Where is my pen?

Phone: What was it?

Phone: WE ARE SO DEAD THIS IS HORRIBLE I ONLY JUST WOKE BACK UP! PRIMO IS GOING TO DESTROY US SO BADLY I AM NOT PREPARED FOR DEATH AGAIN.

“It’s better that people know. If they know then they can prepare.” 

Memephone’s thoughts were cut off as the phone started screaming. Ah, he should have realized that such a thing would not easily go past Primo’s radar. Then again, he’s faced against that guy before. He can do it again. 

“Is that so? I’m not afraid of him.” 

“WE ARE GOING TO DIE- WELL I’M GOING TO TECHNICALLY DIE AGAIN- BUT WE’RE GOING TO DIE JUST THE SAME!!!! HORRIBLE!! HORRIBLE! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT HE’S GOT BREWING- OHH BUT I DO...!!! I DO...!!!” The phone screamed and wriggled before falling on his side. “I am also without limbs. This will be cumbersome. I get to die again...without limbs, fantastic. Great. At least I get to see you again Memephone! And..Uh- you as well orange fellow. Also good to see you.”

“Just give me a bit here; I’m almost done, and then I can help translate whatever it it you’re looking at.” 

The broken phone was looking a lot better already. It was clear that Memephone knew what he was doing when it came to fixing him. 

“Yeah. The sooner we can get his plans out to other people, the sooner they can brace themselves and prepare for one angry asshole.” 

“Sounds good, sounds good.” Scribe set his sketchbook down and gave his full attention to what Memephone was doing. “...Even if they’re braced..Do you think peeps will handle it alright...?” he couldn’t help but question the statement, considering what Primo is capable of.

...Scribe was pulled out of his thoughts when the now fixed phone whirred to life and let out a long beep. “...Khhhhhhhhhhzzzzzzz...” it shuddered and the speaker crackled once it started up.

“Where is this?! When is this?!” The phone wiggled on the ground “Wait was I fixed- I WAS FIXED?” Quite the exciting situation- though they sounded..Fearful?

“It’s been a while since I’ve looked at something from the Great Turf War without it being in a museum. I was there when it happened, you know.” 

Sparks came from the telephone that he was working on. Slowly yet surely he was making progress. 

“If you need something translated, I could probably make out what it says. Being an AI means you don’t forget this kind of thing that easily.” 

“I know you were there. So was boss.” Scribe laughed a little bit as he flipped the page in his sketchbook...Time to draw memephone working he supposes.

Memephone moved backwards slightly as there was a loud screech. He wasn’t exactly expecting that to be inside the old machine… 

“Was that one of the mutants you were talking about? Looks like he was in pretty deep with them.” 

Waiting for a moment to see if said mutant was truly gone before continuing, Memephone processed this information. What exactly would he benefit from working with mutants? It didn’t seem to fit his motive, especially with his attitude towards other creatures…. 

“I-I-I-I...” Scribe mumbled, rubbing his ear. “I really have no clue. Maybe? I never saw the ones he was talking about- so maybe it has something to do with em?” he carefully leaned in and plucked the small bit of tech out of the broken phone. “It left this behind- It looks old- not really..uh..’Old Phone’ Old but..still pretty old.”

As he looked it over, his free hand went to work drawing out a picture of the object. It’s a shame he was thrown out by Primo- Scribe is quite skilled at his job. “Looooks...like Octarian language imprinted onto the metal of this thing..But...” He squinted “I have a basic knowledge on uhhh linguistics stuff for transcription purposes and I’m thinkin’ its an older dialect? Possibly uhh..Great turf war era?” He shrugged, tearing off a piece of paper from his sketchbook so he could set the old piece of tech on it.

“Just leave repairing this to me. I can get it back to a functioning level! When you’re stuck by yourself for 10,000 years you tend to learn quickly how to repair yourself.” 

Sure enough small tools and devices came out of Memephone and started working on the damaged phone before him. 

“It’s not that hard to not be a monster like him. He used his suffering as an excuse to be a terrible person instead of improve upon himself.” 

Scribe set the broken phone down and let Memephone get to work. He then sat down nearby and grabbed his sketchbook and pen from his bag..though honestly he didn’t exactly know why- probably just an instinct built into him for his old note taking/diagram drawing purpose.

“I kinda feel bad for him...Though I shouldn’t. Boss did throw me out afterall..” came his reply as he continued to observe the repair work. The octarian’s drawing hand was quickly drawing and writing out what Memephone was doing. “But I dunno..Something’s just kinda weird with ‘em- Especially the talk about acquiring some outside help from some...mutants? I don’t really remember much of it..Don’t really get what it’s about.”

Within the old phone’s casing, among the ooze stained wires, there was a glob of...something..? It wasn’t the color of the ooze- it was a fleshy pink glob..Upon being inspected, it’s eye opened wide- A lime green sclera with a vivid purple iris glanced from Scribe and then to Memephone...

And then it screamed, a scream that sounded like many voices...Many octarian voices, that scream sent Scribe toppling backward as he recoiled away from the noise. After the scream, it fizzled away and there was nothing left but an old piece of tech...

“I believe that it should be fine. I remember there being a… defective unit that Primo absolutely hated. I’m going to take a hunch and assume that’s the one in particular.”

A pleased beeping noise comes from the phone.

“If this is that same phone, then you’ve got nothing to worry about. It wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Scribe stands with an awkward sway to gather his balance before walking over to Memephone with a small smile. “Oh well..Alright! I’ll just take your word for it uh..So if you can help, that’d be great..!”

“...Ah... you don’t need to worry! I won’t harm you at all, you have my promise!”

Scribe clumsily wiggles out of the too-small cardboard box and sits up.

“Oh uh...You’re different- Uh..” The octarian reached into the cardboard box to carefully pull the broken phone into his lap. “I didn’t think there were others..Though uh- Looking at you..I remember boss mentioning another Tartar with a hat...But uh...”

Memephone was met with a horrified screech as scribe dragged himself and the broken down phone into the small box he was living in.