all hail the yap king

Part One: Wake

The funeral was as many often are, silent, solemn, sorrowful. I think it was fitting that so few of us attended his Act of Transition into the Afterspark. Phobos was not a happy man near the end, not cheerful as he once was, not grinning and gallant. Were it not for his place among our numbers, I doubt he’d have gotten a funeral at all after what he did, doubt he’d have been mourned for the man he was. I remember the last time I saw Phobos before today, remember the wave I offered him as he stepped off the metro-line onto the Uraya-4 terminal. It was nearly five kilocycles ago. He still seemed sane then.

“Bluestreak!” I remember him greeting me, “They accepted my application for the IMD!”

I also remember myself responding “That's great!” Only for us to speak about Cybertron in the abstract. I think maybe the signs were there then, the look in his eyes like some parasite was hiding behind their red glow or maybe like there was nothing there at all. Maybe it's just that I want the signs to have been there, that I want to know he could have been helped, that it was in some way deep down my fault. Maybe I want closure over why he did it, what happened to my friend.

They fixed his body… My mind is all over the place- I just know he looks different from when some of us got that initial call. No holes in his torso, and a head attached even if his brain module isn't really inside it. Geosensus once told me that funerals were for the living, not for the dead. That wasn't long before he passed due to the Cybercrosis. A treatment was found a year later. Maybe Geo would have stood beside me today if he held out just a little longer. Before I could think it over too heavily, I felt a pressure on my left shoulder, firm but not forceful. It was a hand large enough to wrap around my arm entirely, cold to the touch and yet warm in its intent. Delta Magnus had always been like that since the day we’d met.

“Blue-”

He whispered in that deep and smooth tone he always had, matched by the big blocky yellow lenses of his optics that glanced down at me from amidst his monolithic form. I had met Delta Magnus at the funeral for Geosensus all those years ago, Geo having been a mutual friend. The first time anyone meets Delta, they always have the same thought; Those shoulders are massive. Delta Magnus is the kind of person who’s form tells you they’ve been a soldier at some point in time, built up into a walking wall adorned in red and blue paint, but his shoulders are like transmission pylons. These massive black obelisks which stand in attention at all times, like an offering to the Spectrum or Primes.

“-Are you alright?”

I think it was those last three words that made me realize where I was for the first time and what was going on around me. There couldn't have been more than thirty of us, a bewildering sight for a funeral. At least two thirds of those in attendance actively worked or had since retired from the Primal Vanguard, myself included. The rest were coworkers from the IMD, the few who knew him and didn't hate him for what he did, at least not openly. The attendance and circumstances led the venue to be set in an old Kalis bar that Phobos’s friend had run back in the day, chairs rearranged and tables moved to the edges of the room with a single one kept next to the coffin to situate a memorial. By sunrise tomorrow his body will have been shipped off for study by medics in Iacon, an effort to find some cure to the cause of his sickness. His damaged brain module, lifecord, and laser core had already been sent. Looking at his upper half in that box, his face was familiar but it wasn't him.

“Bluestre-” Delta began again only for me to cut him off.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I’m… I’ll be fine.”

Seeing through me like glass, Delta Magnus’s voice filled the air again as his hand tightened lightly in an effort to show he was there. “You’ll be fine and you are fine aren’t the same thing- My Comm-Channel is always open if you need to talk.” He replied, only for his hand to slowly fall off of my shoulder as he began to walk towards a group of my other former coworkers. Delta had always cared for us- we were like mentees to him, people who he was charged with guiding and protecting via his role as the head of the Vanguard. It always hit him hard when he brought one spark fewer back from beyond the stars, but this? He placed absolute responsibility on himself for what Phobos did, and for letting him get to that point. Part of me wondered if it was really him that needed someone to talk to, but I was never good with words.

After the wake ended, and people began to leave back to their jobs and homes, I found myself a lingerer, sitting down rather than standing by the back door, and soon I found I wasn’t alone. Desecrus, the Bar’s owner, and Outrigger, a fellow Ex-Guardsman, had found their way to my table, sitting shoulder to shoulder with bottle in hand. Desecrus was the type of guy you know saw things, the kind which were best spoken about without law enforcement in the same room. Between his green, yellow and mauve colours and the brim of his helmet structure he could easily blend into a crowd of average Cybertronians. The only thing exceptional about how he looked was the scanning fixture hooked onto the top left of his head with a wire plugging directly into the side. I could feel it watching me and trying to skim for details and files on who I am and what I do.

Bluestreak

It surely said

Former Member of the Primal Vanguard, fluent in 23 alien languages, 11 time winner and record holder of the Intraformers Sharpshooting Competition, active staff in Praxus Helix Gardens.

I didn’t like that faint red light strobing as it watched me, pulling public details on medical procedures and affiliations. Indy Heat, Metalhawk, Arcee, Parsec, I could feel each of them being ported directly into this guy’s brain as he lifted a glass of Old Corroder to his mouth and threw back the fluid. By the time his glass hit the table again, he leaned forward, placing his arms on the table top as he began to open his mouth, only to be cut off by Outrigger.

“Long time no see, eh?” He cheerily blurted through chipped teeth as he poured a glass and slid it across the table to me. “It's been what- One? Two megacycles since we drank together? Been keeping up with my channel on the Nexus?” Forward he leaned, only for his cheek to rest on his left palm as he looked me in the eyes waiting for a response.

“I have-” I haven't.

Overjoyed, Outrigger sat up straight as his attention then swung rightward to Desecrus “see, i told you I was popular! Ruddy wonderful seeing the ol’ gang again- shame Hound couldn't make it.”

“It's a funeral-” Desecrus murmured bitterly as he pulled away from Outrigger’s body, clearly not as fond of the large brown guardsman as he was of him.

Hound. Outrigger was right- it was a shame he wasn’t here, at least then I’d have had someone to speak to. Rigs’ wasn’t a bad guy but he never seemed to listen. Maybe focusing on “could” and “what ifs” really was a bad idea, but I always find myself back there at the end of the day. It was starting to feel numb watching them talk in front of me while I thought to myself. They didn’t get along, but who was I to make them- “I really should get going- Parsec’s short staffed and I dont wanna leave him running the facility alone-” I lied again, just the most simple way to get out of this interaction.

Outrigger’s head swiveled back towards me as he leaped upwards placing his hands on the table before him, clearly still as exaggerated as ever. “Oh come on! We barely ever see you!”

He wasn’t wrong- I’ve been avoiding them, my old co-workers ever since I left the guard. It wasn’t like I hated them, they were still my friends, but I needed time and distance after Falcia’s… yeah. “I know- I know- Look- I promise I’ll call when I have a few days off and we can get some drinks, okay?” He didn’t seem entirely happy with the idea, but it was enough to settle him down and get him to retake his seat. In reflection I found myself rising as I slid the glass of Old Corroder back towards him.

I gathered my thoughts, my regrets, and my memories all one on top of another, and moved back towards the body of my dead friend one last time before I left. Where once lived a red face and bright yellow plating, now sat nothing but the grey shades of rapid depigmentation. It still didn't feel real to me, to be stood at yet another funeral in my life for someone so close, and to be forced to leave some part of myself behind with the death. The only small consolation was his peace, and the hope that if god or gods existed, they could offer him a better life in the afterspark. Just as I made for the back exit, I took free a small vial from a compartment built into my right leg, before setting it down alongside others, marking a payment and reminder of death’s toll.

It was from there that I moved, around the bar and towards the back room, making note of the surroundings and the unopened shipping crates left around the room before finally managing to make it to the back door, and slide it open. In an instance my face was struck all at once by the rigid and frosted air. I had forgotten for a moment how it felt being so far south. Kalis wasn’t a city I visited often. Its Senator was, from what Metalhawk told me, not the kind of guy you want to be around. Part of me blamed his rhetoric for what made Phobos finally snap, but it was just another of a thousand mistakes we all made. Stepping into that back alleyway only to look up and see shadows and dusk filled sky made me remember when I was younger. Indy used to leave Arcee and I waiting outside of the Ibex race course while he was left signing autographs from adoring fans. One time we left and ended up breaking into a decommissioned sub-surface Metro-Line. She took a liking to the place and eventually managed to convince Indy to file proper paperwork to allow it to be renovated into something approximating a system of Bunkers for use in emergencies.

But that was a long time ago, cities away, instead I found myself walking down a small set of steps before dropping onto the ground level in the Alleyway. To my surprise, I wasn't the only one out there, another person sat slumped against the opposite wall to the door with a hand on his face, clearly not entirely picking up on what was going on around him. I paused for a moment as I looked at him, only to realize it had been several minutes of me just standing there before finally speaking. “You uh-... You good?” Inquired, kneeling down slightly to make myself less imposing while I watched the bot before me.

In any case, this attempt at conversation managed to make him finally look up at me, pulling his hand down to just cover his mouth, until even that was made visible. The look in his matrix blue optics was hollow and worn out, filled with a sense of regret and responsibility as he looked at me. “Apologies- I am typically more observant.” trailed his voice as he began to move. The way he spoke was filled with a monotone, dripping with a lack of charisma or personability, ever formal. “I will leave now.” He added firmly as he began taking strides towards a Skydart parked at the end of the Alleyway near the main roads.

“Y-you’re fine man! I don't work here, I was just leavin myself!” My voice reacted before I could think, only for my hands to rise up and wave in sync at him. By the time he stopped walking, I had moved back towards the railing of the steps, using it to brace my tired body as I looked at the ground beneath his feet. “Were you-” I began, not entirely sure if the question I had in mind was right to ask “... Did you know Phobos, or?”

“Phobos was my- Coworker, yes.” The white and black bodied Cybertronian replied, standing just a smidge taller than me with a rounded head adorned with deep red paneling above each eye that bent with the curvature of his head. “I assume you knew him from his prior occupation.” He asserted. Between his posture and vocal mannerisms it was clear that he was stilted and the type of guy who was operating in a perpetual state of formality. It made him sitting in a back alleyway all the more unsettling and questionable.

The longer I stood, the more I leaned on that railing, trying my best not to look him in the eyes as I spoke. “Yeah- We were friends- just long out of touch- I never thought he’d… I didn’t think he’d ever do something like that, he was always really cheerful and… I'm sorry, you prolly knew him better than I did at this point. Like I said, long out of touch… You’re Iacon Mechaforensics, right?”

Even though I was mostly looking at his feet, I could see his hands tighten at the question, only to loosen up as he spoke once again as they moved up and folded across his body. “Yes. I should have known him well, but in retrospect I can’t say anyone did.” It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to tell me about our dead mutual coworker, but nothing came out. Instead, he reached to his side and pulled free a white card with his department and an address on it before holding it out. “Informal as this may be- I would appreciate it if you could offer information on your past experiences with Phobos. I recognize that the subject is emotionally loaded given his death, however any further information surrounding victims of Implant Sickness allows further treatment and attempted mitigation.”

For a split second the way he was talking started to upset me. Made me want to slap the card out of his hand for being so calm while my friend laid dead in the building behind me. The fact someone can maintain their composure in a situation like that and operate like all is fine lit a fire below me, but it extinguished the moment I looked up at him, and saw the weary and burnt out glare in his optics. “Yeah I’ll- We’ll see if I have time. Thanks I guess.” My left hand lifted and took hold of the plastic card from him before looking down at it, only to hear as he began walking towards the main street to my right. “You got a name for me to ask for you by?”

He stopped just as he got seated on his skydart, and looked back at me over his shoulder, the lower part of his face being obscured by one of two panels flaring off of his back like wings. It was the small blue light of his optic amidst the shadows of his body backlit by streetlights, even from this distance I could see the regret in him as his skydart kicked to life and he offered a single word answer before speeding off into the night “Prowl.”

. . .

Not long after that, I myself left, driving to the nearest Metro-Line to Uraya before transferring over onto the Tri-Torus Loop back to Praxus. It took several hours, all of which I spent mulling over details which stood out to me. I thought about the day I first met Phobos, the day we first boarded the Steelhaven. I thought about all those days away from Cybertron amidst the distant stars, and what it meant to be a Cybertronian, the words of people I've worked beside like Codexa or Alpha Trion. The wisdoms given to me by Indy Heat, then later Geosensus and Metalhawk. I remembered all the shame I felt when Falcia died while I was worlds apart, and that on the same day I told Delta Magnus I was done with the Vanguard. For the time being. Done walking among stars in search of answers to questions the Senate didn’t want answered.

I remembered all the regrets and missteps, and yet I found myself in the same old elevator up to floor 221 of Black Tower Megabuilding D, watching as crystal pillars and massive buildings shaped like disks passed in the distance out of its glass walls. It was always nice, always the same, always uniform. On days like these? I hated it. I Wished it would rain acid more heavily, would be filled and offset by the sound of static storms. I wished the world would mourn for my dead friend, and yet all he would be was a name. One of billions in Cyberton’s past, one which would be remembered for his final act and the harm he brought. I just wish I could understand why he did it.

The elevator finally stopped at my floor, and the glass door rolled open, allowing me to move forward into the hallway until I came to door number 07, and placed my hand on the access panel, only for the door to slide open in response, welcoming me back into the dark embrace of my habitation suite. The only active light in the room was bleeding over my back from the hallway, casting a narrow beam before me and coating my living room in a hazy gold glow. It was spacious- my home. Four rooms between sanitation, living quarters, a storage closet and the main room. As I had a million times prior, my right hand drifted to the inside wall, flicking on the low-lights causing the room to become lit ablaze in a hazy blue glow, only for my body to move inside more fully as my left hand slid the door closed behind me.

Not long after entering I moved to a control panel near the far wall, raising up the shutters to the outside allowing natural light to slip in amidst the Praxus skyline. I could see the assembly from where I stood, its monolithic form having once been planned as a stadium only to later be adopted into the facility it’s known as today. Winglights and billboards lit up the dark sky, moving with the nightlife of the city. “Senator Mirage of Ibex in SHAPLESS” one declared, accompanied by an image of the young racer holding a T-cog up into the air. Another was that Delta Magnus, Hound, Ambit and Senator Crosscut stood facing a sunrise with the words “Join the Vanguard today and visit distant stars” scrawled below in neocybex. Not long after I saw it, it flickered out and was replaced by an image of senator Metalhawk and a janitor bot shaking hands titled “Dirty jobs keep Cybertron spinning.”

It was at that ad that I had stopped looking out the window and moved to my living quarters, sliding open the door, stepping inside, and closing it with the rotation of my body in one fluid motion, only to move towards my recharge slab. As I had so many times before, my right hand moved to my side, and pulled free my communicator from my hip, flipping it open before plugging it in and placing it on the low sat indented shelf in my wall. It flashed a couple times indicating it was charging, only to fade to black in its lack of use. I would soon follow suit, sitting down on my recharge slab before using my right hand to slip open the cable box. As I had a million days prior, I took hold of its head with my left hand and twisted to unlock it before slowly pulling it free. Through internal systems, I popped the panel on my right side, allowing it to slide down to showcase my recharge port, only to jam the cable’s head’s three prongs into my lower right side. It was always cold, and stung a little bit via the sudden pulse of electricity, but it aided in stabilizing stasis cycles and offered life monitoring data.

As the chilling feeling in my side slowly grew warm and the initial pain quickly faded, I laid back and deactivated my Optics, listening to the cooling systems of my room as my mind drifted into a slow and repetitive thought cycle, fading into black. It's for that reason I didn’t see my Communicator spark to life with a notification, and it's for that reason I didn’t see what it said until the next morning: