Protectobot Snippets #2
Mmmm, yummy - it's a lovely, rumbly, thunderstormy night. Being a little crazed and caffeinated at work today, this is the song we were singing (for the record, I don't condone gratuitous worm-smushing, although I do dismember them for turtle food on a regular basis.):
I used to think worms were all slimy, now I know that it's true
and I can spend my whole life just to step in the goo-oo
now I don't want to squish for a weekend
don't wanna squish for a day-ay
I just want the worms 'neath my feet and I want them to stay
I'm walkin' on worm slime, yea-ah, I'm walkin' on worm slime yea-ah ah ah (repeat ad nauseam)
More snippets, a couple are a bit angsty:
1.
“Look at them,” Hot Spot murmured, enchanted, as Optimus introduced them to the native organic inhabitants. “They’re so tiny!”
“Their little faces, and look at their hands!” Groove whispered softly, and they all smiled at one other for a moment in agreement. Adorable. Optimus was laughing at them, they could tell, somewhere behind his battle mask, but they didn't mind.
2.
First Aid didn’t say anything, but Sideswipe could almost see the repair protocols for “what to do if Sideswipe falls off the table and dents his aft” running through his processor.
“Aid, c’mon, relax,” he said, bending down precariously to tug on First Aid’s arm.
“I am relaxed,” First Aid replied, steadying Sideswipe with his other hand as he almost overbalanced. Sideswipe expelled air through his intakes noisily and flopped down on the edge next to him.
“No, you’re not,” he complained. “This is supposed to be your party. Come on, at least have some high grade.” Sideswipe pushed a cube over in First Aid’s direction. “It’s the good stuff.”
First Aid shook his head, preoccupied, as he eyed the rest of the mechs swaying and shouting on the table. “It’s a very nice party, Sideswipe. Thank you.”
“Aid, you’re hopeless! Have you even tried high grade? You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I’ve tried high grade, Sideswipe,” First Aid replied equably, still watching the other mechs. “I tried everything, for awhile. I was desperate. I tried anything that might make it stop hurting. Ratchet knew, I think, but he never said anything.”
Sideswipe shifted on the table, uneasy, not sure what to say. “Aid…”
“Nothing helped, really, except the high grade. It took away all the pain.”
“Well, if it helped, then…why not…” Sideswipe waved a hand hesitantly at the untouched cube.
First Aid looked down and nudged the cube with a finger, so it was a safer distance from the edge. “Because it took away all my joy, too.” First Aid looked up and met Sideswipe’s gaze, his optics smiling, deep quiet blue behind the visor.
3. (this one's been up before, but it was awhile back - here's the slightly extended version)
Optimus laughed. “How is it all of our meetings about the Protectobots turn into discussions of how to keep them from working themselves into stasis lock?”
“You have meetings about them?” Silverbolt asked.
“Not as many as we do about you guys,” Ratchet smirked. “Except in Aerialbot meetings we’re usually discussing how we can prevent you from working us into stasis lock.”
“Hey!” Silverbolt protested, “I thought we agreed, no rubbing it in.”
Optimus was looking at him, still smiling, but a little thoughtful. “It’s never easy, being the first one.” Silverbolt tilted his head, inquiring. “The Protectobots, while certainly unique in their…precociousness, have also reaped the benefits of all of your mistakes, and in many ways their path has been easier because you have walked it before them. I don’t think any of us fully realized the difficulty of the task we asked of you, to be a gestalt leader with no blueprint, no training manual of how such a thing could be done, but you paved the way down an unknown road. You should be proud, of yourself, of your team, and of what you have become.”
4.
He moved at last, cautiously, feeling a web of mingled joy and pain move with him, not certain, exactly, how to exist in this new space. It was if the bonds with his brothers, in breaking, had determined instead to bind him to every particle in the universe. Groove, he thought, with a slight smile. Groove would understand this, but at the name grief and despair crashed through him again, merciless as a cannon blast. I can’t take them with me, the thought floated free finally, reluctantly. Not even their names.
5.
The next thing Hot Spot clearly remembered he was trying to hand First Aid to Silverbolt and he was telling Silverbolt over and over “get him out of here, get him back,” only he couldn’t seem to let go of First Aid, and First Aid was whispering in his audios, “I’m ok, it’s alright, Hot Spot, I’m ok, shhh, calm down, it’s alright now.”
“I’m fine, Aid,” Hot Spot said, in his far-too-calm voice, completely failing to loosen his death grip on First Aid.
“Here, let Skydive take him. I’ll carry you and we’ll get you both back together,” Silverbolt tried to get through his friend. “Hot Spot? Are you hearing me?”
“You’re kind of hurting me, Hot Spot,” First Aid said softly. “Can you loosen up a little?”
Hot Spot immediately let go of First Aid, looking horrified, and First Aid wrapped both of his own arms around him. “Stop that! It was just a little tight, I’m fine.”