Chances, New Friends/Friendship, and Squishies
A good friend of mine recently suggested that if I have a problem, I should express it through writing it out. The problem is I've spent so long writing about other bots and events that I may have almost forgotten how to express how I feel. Ironfist seems so distant. I've spent so long simply writing as "Fisitron", the fictional biographer. But here goes nothing.
Chances
I count myself fortunate in life, for the most part. I've had so many chances given to me, but I've also had some cut short. The Autobots may have been the best thing to ever happen to me. I could never have imagined being allowed, even encouraged to build what I do without restrictions. Of course, there may be some regret there, but... Probably the best chance I ever received was the chance to work as the galaxy-renowned inventor Wheeljack's apprentice. He expanded my knowledge so greatly, and taught me how to look at and tackle problems from a different angle. Maybe one of the most life-altering changes I ever received was getting a spot on the Wreckers. It seemed like such a no-processor decision for someone like me, who has devoted so much time to studying and chronicling the exploits of the Wreckers, to join them, but I can honestly say I have regrets about saying yes.
New Friends/Friendship
In a setting of war, making new friends/maintaining friendships seems like both your best idea and your worst idea. It is good to have someone watching your back, someone you know you can count on. It's great to have someone you can find solace in, or revel in a victory with. But at the same time, friends in a time of war hurt. I cannot even count how many acquaintances I've seen offlined by the Decepticons, and I've had no less then eleven of my closest friends' sparks fade while I held them in my arms. Each time, it hurt a little less. The best bet for any soldier is to let the natural desensitization come, and stop making friends, because in the end, either you'll hurt them, or they'll hurt you. It's just what war is. Still, there are a few that try to reach out, and their efforts are commendable. I had the good fortune of crossing paths with just one such individual...
Squishies
Verity was the first and only human I have ever come into contact with. I was worried when I first saw her. Her structural integrity didn't seem very sturdy, but apparently humans are as adaptable as we are, and she quickly donned a suitable exoskeleton for battle purposes. She was so full of life, so concerned for all of us, and she was the first person in a while who I felt I was able to be comfortable around. Weird, isn't it, that a Cybertronian could find comfort in a human? Funny that while at first I thought she was the one who needed protection, she ended up championing me! If Verity is any indication of what other humans are like, I would hardly call them squishy. That moniker fits only in physical make-up, not in the mettle of their personality.
Well, I think I've divulged enough for now.
Fisitron Ironfist out.
Ironfist set down the datapad, reflecting on the last entry, pondering what had happened to his friend. Heaving a sigh through his vents, he leaned back against the wall, letting his optics unfocus as he lapsed into a deep thought process.
Chances
I count myself fortunate in life, for the most part. I've had so many chances given to me, but I've also had some cut short. The Autobots may have been the best thing to ever happen to me. I could never have imagined being allowed, even encouraged to build what I do without restrictions. Of course, there may be some regret there, but... Probably the best chance I ever received was the chance to work as the galaxy-renowned inventor Wheeljack's apprentice. He expanded my knowledge so greatly, and taught me how to look at and tackle problems from a different angle. Maybe one of the most life-altering changes I ever received was getting a spot on the Wreckers. It seemed like such a no-processor decision for someone like me, who has devoted so much time to studying and chronicling the exploits of the Wreckers, to join them, but I can honestly say I have regrets about saying yes.
New Friends/Friendship
In a setting of war, making new friends/maintaining friendships seems like both your best idea and your worst idea. It is good to have someone watching your back, someone you know you can count on. It's great to have someone you can find solace in, or revel in a victory with. But at the same time, friends in a time of war hurt. I cannot even count how many acquaintances I've seen offlined by the Decepticons, and I've had no less then eleven of my closest friends' sparks fade while I held them in my arms. Each time, it hurt a little less. The best bet for any soldier is to let the natural desensitization come, and stop making friends, because in the end, either you'll hurt them, or they'll hurt you. It's just what war is. Still, there are a few that try to reach out, and their efforts are commendable. I had the good fortune of crossing paths with just one such individual...
Squishies
Verity was the first and only human I have ever come into contact with. I was worried when I first saw her. Her structural integrity didn't seem very sturdy, but apparently humans are as adaptable as we are, and she quickly donned a suitable exoskeleton for battle purposes. She was so full of life, so concerned for all of us, and she was the first person in a while who I felt I was able to be comfortable around. Weird, isn't it, that a Cybertronian could find comfort in a human? Funny that while at first I thought she was the one who needed protection, she ended up championing me! If Verity is any indication of what other humans are like, I would hardly call them squishy. That moniker fits only in physical make-up, not in the mettle of their personality.
Well, I think I've divulged enough for now.
Fisitron Ironfist out.
Ironfist set down the datapad, reflecting on the last entry, pondering what had happened to his friend. Heaving a sigh through his vents, he leaned back against the wall, letting his optics unfocus as he lapsed into a deep thought process.