#phobia complex

Part Three: Sykosis

I don't want to die.

. . . [Running.Program_//”Hello.World”] . . . . . . 0% 10% ❐ 20% ❐❐ 30% ❐❐❐ 40% ❐❐❐❐ 50% ❐❐❐❐❐ 60% ❐❐❐❐❐❐ 70% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ [System.Error_Code.30689_//”External.Stasis.Lock”] . . . . . .

. . .

When I was forged- The first thing I saw were medical examiners inside a Lighthouse, the glow of their headlamps bleeding into my optics brighter than the sun as my metal was still hot and cooling. A spark of Praxus, one of billions. I remember foreign noises that grew familiar, the recognition of patterns as language centres in my brain module whirred to life and took in passive conversation. Mumbling turned to patterns, turned to words. I still remember the first words I spoke as all of my people’s language flowed freely into my opened head via wiring. “Where Am I?”

I didn’t understand the facial expressions, not then at least, but there seemed to be some level of shock. I was quick to speak, quicker than most. Processing the data at speeds unlike many others. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was far from common. Bluestreak. My name was derived from the connotation of data and communication as “blue” by Spectralist circles. To know, to understand, is an act that comes with tranquility. “Ignorance is a gift” they say, “and it is with great knowledge that sorrow too comes” my name was of my own choice, a first step into personhood even before leaving the Lighthouse. They called me a “he” then, a term that was derived from organic concepts surrounding self identity. It always made my body uncomfortable, always sort of felt *wrong* when applied to me. Arcee was in a similar position initially, my fellow mentee of Indy Heat, but Arcee was braver than me in self assertion, in seeking the self, in understanding the way cultures interact. Arcee had already attained “she” even before I came online. I remember when I saw her and Indy Heat for the first time, as the stars overhead came into view and my hand intuitively waved to the massive crowd before me with lights and plastic shards falling from the sky. I remember my hand moving to that of Nova Prime, shaking his firmly as he looked down upon me with kind eyes, and then there were the two of them. Indy Heat, and Arcee. They were to me a concept which many organic races called “father” and “sister” translating of course. Indy Heat could hardly sit still, his hands moving to my shoulders as his voice filled the air. He hadn’t become a Senator yet, still just serving as the Ibex Cup Champion. His Purple and cyan colours hadn’t tarnished, his eyes hadn’t dulled. He was a shining figure filled with life and energy. Arcee on the other hand, she stood upright, firm, unbothered, keeping a composure that Indy lacked. I had always admired her for it, the capacity to act so self assured in settings like that. Despite efforts towards stoicism, I remember catching her eye only for her to offer a small smile towards me in spite of outward appearances, the kind that a larger crowd wouldn’t see.

. . . [Running.Program_//”Hello.World”] . . . . . . 0% 10% ❐ 20% ❐❐ 30% ❐❐❐ 40% ❐❐❐❐ 50% ❐❐❐❐❐ 60% ❐❐❐❐❐❐ 70% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ [System.Error_Code.30689_//”External.Stasis.Lock”] . . . . . .

. . . “Try to stay safe” His voice was sallow. Indy Heat had long since fallen from his prominence as an athlete, instead finding a seat amidst the senate alongside Metalhawk. They’d known each other longer than I’d been alive, brothers born not of a shared mentor, but of kinship in combat. Indy had been the one to carry Metalhawk out of direct fire when Hawk got his injury. Indy tells me that Hawk never walked the same again, always needing a cane to alleviate his old wound acting up. “Im serious-” My mind was pulled then from the wondering thoughts, made to face him directly, to look into his amber toned optical covers as his worn seafoam palms came to rest atop my shoulders. “I know I’ve always told you that to finish a race, you just need to start driving, but try not to let your wheels fly out from under you, okay?”

It was second nature to nod, happening before my mind could fully process the words he was saying. “Yeah- I-” I remember my left hand raising up in a balled fist before lightly tapping at the worn out number 16 that sat firmly atop his chest “I’ll stay safe. ‘Sides, I’ll have Magnus lookin over me. Could do worse for crewmates than two of the four” I could tell there was still concern in his eyes, even if he tried to hide it away, to push it down and stuff it up. Even after my mentorship ended, he maintained his pride in me, maintained the protective wing. “Alright- enough worrying-” A second voice cut through as the sound of firm footsteps reverberated through the monolithic hanger. Mere moments afterwards I felt the impact of four balled fingers striking my right shoulder, leaving behind a pulsating pain as Indy took a step back from me. “If you don’t come back on that ship with a lit spark, I swear to Motrilus, Bluestreak of Praxus, I will find a way to kill you.” Arcee. She was a role model even if we came online within proximity. Emblematic of the best our race had to offer. She’d grown more unavailable with time, taking on the role of a combat trainer within the Elite Guard. Despite her outward demeanor of a storied veteran, I found it easy to respond “C’mon, ‘cee, Just cause I don’t hold my own with a laser rod doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself. I went through all the firearm training they required and I got top marks. Should be scared of what we end up finding out there-” I wish I could linger a little longer in that head space. Linger in that time, but the more I tried, the more I found it growing dark, and found myself being pulled back to the moment

. . . [Running.Program_//”Hello.World”] . . . . . . 0% 10% ❐ 20% ❐❐ 30% ❐❐❐ 40% ❐❐❐❐ 50% ❐❐❐❐❐ 60% ❐❐❐❐❐❐ 70% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 80% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ [System.Error_Code.30689_//”External.Stasis.Lo-

“The authorities insisted that until further information is obtained, all parties involved are to be kept in cu-” “I TOLD YOU I DON’T GIVE A SHIT! DISENGAGE THE LOCK. N O W.”

[External.Stasis.Lock_StastusSetTo:Inactive] [Continuing.Program_//”Hello.World”] . . . . . . 90% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ 100% ❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐❐ . . .

My vision was suddenly, and completely engulfed in red. Reactive centres of my neural matrices caught fire as the urge to keep fighting filled me, and my left hand tried to swing forward, only for the high pressure of the liquid my body was engulfed in to stop me. I could feel my body drag as my vision started to clear and my hands slowly drifted forward to the crystalline tube I found myself inside, only for the room to slowly come into view.

Where am I?

I tried to speak, only for my mouth to choke on the high purity energon that my body floated inside. Despite my words not managing to make their way out, the words of my observers made their way in. Stood before me in a deep red hue were that of a disheveled medic, and none other than Arcee. In all honesty I wasn’t aware she was back, last I heard she was on a diplomatic mission with Magnum on Omnitron.

Even though her words were muffled, I knew her well enough to understand what she was saying as she turned back to the Medic. “I am giving you five NanoKlicks to drain the chamber before I use your head to crack it open, Cybertron Beneath Me as my witness.” Clearly not wanting to test her on the threat, the medic’s body moved rapidly to the control panel in front of me, before rapidly deactivating the seal on my chamber. I could hear the venting start as a sudden burst of air filled the chamber, little bubbles of air rushing past me from below only for the fluid level to drop suddenly until finally my head managed to reach above the liquid. It was always jarring having to cough up energon from inside my body, spitting it out so as to drain my vox systems. Thankfully by the time I finished wheezing, my feet met the floor, causing me to stumble slightly before catching myself as the crystal sheet in front of me rolled, not unlike the elevator to my apartment. 

Not a breem after my foot stepped out of the CR Chamber did a sharp pain fill my right forearm from Arcee's punch, only for my entire form to be jerked forward as arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me into the broader room. “YOU ARE SUCH A PRICK!” Arcee snapped as her arms tightened around me to the point where they began to shake… The more I think about it, they were shaking even before she grabbed hold of me. “I am going to kick your fucking ass- Solus Prime-” Before she finished speaking, she pulled back from me and shifted her hands onto the sides of my arms as she looked me directly in the optics. “Do you have any idea what went through my head getting a call from Parsec that you weren’t at work? From The medicentre that you were in critical condition?! I thought I was going to show up and find you in-in-in Parts or cut in half or-”

“I’m fIne-” I managed to mutter in a raspy tone as my voice spiked, still feeling wrong even in spite of having regained the ability to speak, only for her hands to let go of my arms as her hands rose up and flapped in dismissal of the idea.

“FINE? Primes, Blue- you nearly DIED! You had to be put in CR! What the hell do you mean you’re FINE!?” She snapped. Before I could answer however, my attention drew back to the medic answering the door to the CR room, where an earthy toned bot stood in the doorway, clearly waiting for a moment of quiet before speaking.

Once Arcee’s attention joined mine, she folded her arms across her chest as he began to speak. “I’ Reckon yer feelin’ lots better after what happened this mornin’.” He declared with a slight accent to his voice, leading me to think he was forged,lived, or worked somewhere like Helex. As soon as he finished speaking, he shooed the medic out of the room, before approaching myself and Arcee as he held out his left hand to shake. “Tumbler. I work with the Iaconian Mechaforensics Division. Was hopin I could get a word wit the victim ‘n find out why it is pinkie here’s been threatenin staff of this fine med-center.” Neither myself nor Arcee shook his hand, leading him to raise it up and onto the back of his own neck while his right remained firmly planted on his waist. “Alright then- No handshake. First things first- I need a moment alone wit the victim of that little rodeo on the trai-”

“No.” Arcee cut him off as she continued to stare at him with her arms crossed.

“Now, hun- that wasn’t a request. This is a very serious matter, and while I’d rather not- I can put you in cuffs if I need to.” Tumbler replied as no hint of emotion washed over his visored and plated face, only the reflection of Arcee’s expression building in the blue surface that observed her.

“You try to cuff me and I’ll break your fingers.” Arcee shot back in the cold stern tone I knew her for. The tension between the two continued to linger only for a set of footsteps to sound from within the hall before a familiar face entered the room, standing with the same disconcertingly proper posture as when I’d first met him.

“Tumbler, I would advise deescalation. For your own sake.” Prowl asserted.

At his entrance my own discomfort began to fade, having at least some level of familiarity with him. Despite that, It was clear Arcee lacked my understanding, now sizing up Prowl just as she had been Tumbler. I had no doubt she could have taken them both in a fight- it would be preferable not to but-...

After a moment’s pause, I finally found my voice again, and shifted my left hand onto Arcee’s shoulder “Hey- It's fine. They just wanna know what happened- right? Stop this from happening again? I told you I’m fine, and we can talk about this later- Lets just- not make this a scene, okay?”

Her head swiveled to face me, as her expression softened, only for her arms to drop to her sides as she relented. “We aren’t done talking about what happened.” she replied, only for her body to move towards the door, offering an aggressive glare at Prowl which he dead panned. Before turning back to me.

“That wasn’t so hard- now was it? Folks like that? Tuhsk tuhsk tuhsk… Say Prowler- how do you do those noises again- the Tuhsk? Is it a mouth thing? I think you said it was a mouth thing.”  Tumbler inquired, before shrugging lightly as he made his way towards the door beside Prowl. “Eh- Reckon I can’t do it-” He paused before looking up at me again and tilting his head to the side slightly “I aint got a mouth- Not that you asked. Just reckon you’d find that nifty. Something to think about during the drive.”

“Drive?” I inquired cautiously as I watched Prowl quietly slip out beside Tumbler.

“Yeah? You didn’t think we’s was gonna question ya in some rinky dink hospital, did’ya? Best make haste not waste, aint to fond a’the thought yer friend might change ‘er mind.” Tumbler added as I followed his lead into the hallway, only for another thought to run to the top of my mind.

“Any chance you’ve got a Burnout COMM I can use?”

. . .

“But Yeah- no, I’m fine-, sorry again about missing work today, Promise I’ll make it up to you- Bye-”

By the time my wheels came to a halt, and I bore witness to the front entrance to the IMD’s Petrex Office, I’d managed to call Parsec and roughly explain the situation, if lacking in due specificity. The buzz of my T-cog as my legs managed to stretch managed to stave off the headache I’d begun nursing- maybe a longer say would have been for the better-.

“Real damn, beaut’ ain’t she?” Tumbler proclaimed as his earthy toned figure slid past me, and began making his way up the massive sets of stairs leading up to the Office’s front entrance. “Ain’t nothin like the one in Rodion, but gosh- aint it just a marvel ‘a modern engineering.”

“Yeah- its- nice i guess” I shot back halfheartedly as my eyes traced Prowl’s movement up the stairs, quickly managing to ascend beyond the point Tumbler had stopped at. Every action he took with deliberate intent, similar to when I’d first run into him, but with far less nervousness to him. My first assumption was grief but- Maybe not.

Before I could think too deeply on it, Tumbler’s hands both shot up in disbelief “NICE!? YOU GUESS!? Tusk tusk tusk. Missy, You surely must be slabbin me with a gaf-”

I must what?

“How can you look at a buildin as well made as this one and not be left in utter awe. Your Architecture mentor during Prime Prog must have failed you, and I’m ever so sorry” Punctuating his remark with a dismissive shake of the head, he soon carried on, walking along side me as the two of us made out way to the automatic sliding door, only to be greeted by the reception office. The room was crowded with officers, enough to make me feel uneasy. Cops were- the last type of person I wanted to be around, ones from Petrex especially. It's part of what drove me to become distant with Phobos.

Just Part.

The room was laid out not unlike a court, numerous cubical like desks dropped into the floor along the sides of the room, along with plaques and trophy cases. Cops always did love talking about how good they were. Nearing the end of the room was a fork that again forked towards the sides of the room. Two doors left and right sat near the corners of the back wall, with a further door situated to the right wall. As for the left, it gave space for an elevator. The entire room was ultimately topped off with one massive rounded desk directly opposite of the entrance. It was there where Prowl stood, both of his palms firmly against the counter top as he leaned down to speak with the officer sitting behind it. Even from here I could read the plate by his desk “Detectas” Even if I were closer, I couldn’t have made out what they were saying amidst the chatter that punctuated the remainder of the room. The longer I stood there, the more it made me uneasy.

“Eh- whatcha reckon we head on up to a private office? Prowl’ll be a smidge, Likes filing reports like this first.” Tumbler’s body moved fluidly down the central walkway, with mine absently trailing behind him as we eventually came to a halt at the elevator, pausing for a moment as it made its way back down. When its doors finally opened, another person came stumbling out of it with a mess of datapads housed amidst his hands, nearly letting several slip free only to catch them at the last moment. My optics remained locked on him as both Tumbler and I stepped into the elevator. He seemed to be approaching Prowl with the reports, though the face plate over his mouth prevented me from being able to understand what he said that caught Prowl’s attention. Inevitably, the elevator doors closed.

Devoid of music or distraction, Tumbler eventually started to speak as we rode out way up to a more private area. “Well then- Primal Vanguard huh? Musta been nice. When I was lots younger I nearly signed up to see the stars, venture on out to catch a glimpse of the greater universe.”

“Oh yeah?” I found myself replying “Why didn’t you?”

“Circumstance. Used ta have a real bad Syk addiction- type that leads you out into the dead ends with a card’a’creds and death wish. Ended up barrin me from enlistin, knowin I couldn’t hit. Reckon it was for the best though- Doubt it’d’ve been fer me.” The way he spoke felt- melancholic, as if it marked a story untold with a little red flag saying I’ve seen shit, and I did shit. I made note of his left hand raising up only for the ding of the elevator to lead it snapping back into place on his hip. “Worked I.T. Fer mosta my early career- Met Prowl when I finally got greenlit to do some Flatfootin, been partners since, He’s the one who helped me direct my addiction towards somethin else. Mostly help with net analysis on cases but- oh well you know-”

I was the first to actually step out of the elevator, making note of the window lined hallway into the outside world as I did so. Even from here I could see Praxus, A city away and yet its towers still stood on the distant skyline. “Got a question actually- I knew a guy who used to work here- was wondering if you might have known him- his name was Phobos?”

Silence. . .

It went on long enough that I started to feel my head and neck actively ache, like a deep cut into the back of my brain was worming its way back up. It was bad enough that I found my hand raising to my nose to check for leaking energon, only to come up dry. “Tumbler?”

“Yeah uh- Sarry- Knew ‘im, just uh- caught me little off guard- Rather not talk bout ‘im.” He replied as he moved into the hall and began walking leftward. I could see his right hand pressing in on his left wrist as his hand rotated, seemingly some kind of joint pain. I elected not to ask, silently following after him.

By the time we both stopped, he had led me to a well furnished room with a table in the centre of it, with a small sign labeled “Witness testimonial Room P.P-T.H” followed by a string of two number chains. I welcomed myself into it, being followed shortly by Chromedome as we both found seats on opposite ends of the table. I was in a lone chair, and he on the further of two, the second seemingly left open to Prowl.

“Rather than make ya wait- might as well start now- room’s set to record 24-7, audio and visual so everythin’ ya say, ‘less requested to be off it, is on record. So- mind tellin me yer name, residency, and place of employment?” Tumbler requested as his arms folded one over another, and his body shifted into a relaxed position, leaning back in his chair.

“Uh yeah- Bluestreak of Praxus, I at Black Tower Megabuilding D in Praxus, Room two-two-one dash oh-seven, and I work as a senior overseer for the Helix Gardens, second gardener under Parsec of Esserlon to be specific-” As each next word left my mouth, I found my eyes drifting around the room trying to make note of anything significant, tracing the data log shelf to my left, and the powered off screen mounted on the wall behind Tumbler.

Tumbler’s head rocked forward in approval as he listened, only to pause as he began to speak again“Thank ya kindly- now we’ve already combed over security footage, but we always try ta get a full record of events from everyone involved- mind replayin that day fer me?”

I found myself transfixed on his blue visor as I tried to piece together what to say, only to eventually cup my hands together and place them firmly on the table before me. “Woke up this morning- listened to the morning broadcast from Metalhawk- dropped down to the ground floor, and spoke with a street performer playing music in the entrance hall to my megabuilding. From there I drove myself to the nearest metroline to run the circuit through Esserlon and then back into Praxus- I like the scenery, My therapist tells me its good for me- While riding, I was approached by the guy you took into custody, and he was screaming his head off about organics- talking about Senator Megatron, only to eventually get his screws loose and start attacking me. He tried to kill me, and I fought back, ended up digging my thumbs into his optics while he was trying to crush my neck circuitry. He ended up taking on his altmode and trying to gun me down- he blew open the side of the metro-line, and the only reason I’m still alive is because a member of security ended up using a stasis rifle on him. Next thing I know I'm Blacking out and waking back up in Petrex-”

Tumbler sat nodding along the entire time as I spoke, clearly having what he already knew reinforced, before he could continue however, the door to the hallway opened up, and Prowl ended up taking up the doorway. “Tumbler- I need a moment alone with the victim. You can discuss pressing charges some other time.” As much as this took me off guard, it was clear that Tumbler had been moreso. Despite that fact, he slowly stood up and moved to the door, offering a slight wave to me as he approached it, only to pause next to prowl as he seemed to whisper something to his partner, before slipping out into the hall where he waited. Prowl, in turn, took up the room, shutting and locking the door behind him before shifting over to a control panel beside it. “I apologize for the informal nature of this, however it's of vital importance to me.” He muttered as he switched through settings, and deactivated the recording and visual settings of the room, only to eventually sit down across from me.

“I mean- shoot i guess-”

“You knew Phobos directly?” Prowl asserted, immediately changing the tone in the room to one that made my spinal strut shiver.

“We served under Delta Magnus together- yeah-”

“Bluestreak, you are aware that Phobos died by gunfire on the 65th of Zetcaneon after murdering sixty three people, am I correct?”

Up until this point, though I knew what he did, Prowl was the first person to outwardly state the reality of what Phobos did, he made it tangible, real, and calcified it in the world. It might have been the lingering effects of CR time, but I could feel a static rupture through my body as my hands moved to my face and my elbows to the table top. After everything Phobos did, after he died, It didn’t fully register, not when I looked at his corpse, not when I was on the brink of death myself. Only now did the full weight of what he did come crashing down on me. Sixty four people lost their lives that day. Sixty four sparks snuffed out in a single afternoon. Fuck.

“Y-yeah. Yes. I am aware.”

The next words from Prowl’s mouth didn’t come quickly, didn’t sting with the apathetic tone I’d only known him to speak in, he stopped being that machine and started being a person as he slowly stood up, and made his way around the table, kneeling down as he placed his left palm on my right shoulder. “I am-...” There was a long pause as he tried to find the words “I’m sorry. I understand that this is a complicated situation, and that it’s difficult to face someone you thought you knew doing something unimaginable like that- I blame myself for not having seen it coming- but right now I need you to focus, because this is important, can you try to maintain composure just for a bit longer?”

His words didn’t help- not the literal words at least, but the sentiment and attempt towards understanding was a welcomed offering. “Yeah- yeah what do you need to know-”

“I need you to tell me if you know who this is.” He replied as he reached for his side, and pulled free a small plastic card, only to pass it over into my hands.

“I need you to tell me; do you know who G’nur is?”

Part Two: Missed Calls

Please.

“Your Call could not connect”

Please pick up.

“Your Call could not connect”

Please go through.

“Your Call could not conne-”

“FUCK!” I found myself staring at the cracked and shattered screen of my communicator sitting face up near the wall I threw it at, shattered bits of crystalline glass coating the floor of my room and twinkling under my overhead light. I don't- I can't figure out how to think about it. Phobos had been pronounced dead two decacycles ago. His funeral was a cycle ago. His call came in 10 arcs ago, some time after I entered recharge. If I hadn’t slept, if I stayed awake-

An error. That's what it had to be. Likely a signal glitch brought on during the examination or moving of the body. Maybe it was being wiped, maybe it was being scanned, maybe it hit up against something. IMD operatives utilized internal commlinks afterall. Maybe- Maybe- “C-calm down.” I told myself as my hands lifted up to my face, coming to rest upon it as my neck rocked up towards the sealing and I let out a long and throaty groan. It was fine- Fine. Yeah, I was fine, I am fine. Everything. Everything was fine.

My hand felt a jolt of pain as it made contact with the wall, denting its surface slightly before I felt my left elbow give out and my grip begin to loosen. Phobos was my friend, even if we were distant. Seeing that missed call it- I don't want to think about it. I’m not gonna think about it. Relax Blue- you have things to do this cycle, you have a life, responsibilities, duties, plans. Relax

. . .

By the time I had finished cleaning up my busted communicator and removing the database from its dented body, the Early cycle announcements had begun playing. I remember seeing it light up from the table in my habitation suite’s central room, this giant form of Senator Metalhawk lighting up in bright pink light that flickered and shifted like on horizontal rails.

“Most affluent day, my fellow Praxus Denizens.” Metalhawk always said that. It was the calling card to any speech he offered. Ones like this were done in advance, operated not as live performances but as carefully rehearsed scenes intended to uplift.

“The following are public service announcements for Cycle 06-081 of K0984-M0014 Post Fourth Conflict. As a reminder, the Spectral Solstice is 19 cycles away, and with it comes the Annual Tri-Torus State Advancement Showcase taking place within the Assembly on Cycle 06-100 starting at ARC 10 and running through Arc 45. For those who have not already submitted booth requests, the end date for applications is 06-086. In other news, the winners of the Helix Garden Private Tour raffle for Zetcaneon are as follows; Heavywait of Kaon, Borehole of Vaporex, Kaskade of Vaporex, Desecrus of Kalis, and Orion Pax of Rodion. Authentication of your ticket numbers are to be organized with High Gardener Parsec of Esserlon within the next two cycles. The following announcement comes from the Uraya Patterners Guild-”

At some point though- it became more of a white noise, drowning out my initial energon intake. Sitting there, staring out the window into my home- it was routine- it was cathartic. It was something I used to do with others more often. I don’t invite people over anymore though. Instead I opted to just look out my window for a little longer, watching as the deep grey sky moved along with a risk of rain. Besides- If there was anything important, Parsec would fill me in… Probably.

Sitting up, I moved back to the control panel for my windows, letting them shutter down before turning the lights back off and moving into the hall. Far down at one end I saw neighbors talking with one another, one tall and lanky, another more rounded and average height with these red external sight aids. They were both nice, the tall one, Syphon, frequently asks me to help unjam her door or fix the air circulation in her hab where as the other, Wavelength, sometimes invites me to a Eucryphia-Esque Poetry club down at the Sonic and Surge on 55th street. They hold them on Zero Nights bi weekly so I try to make time if I can. Right now though, nice as they may be, I was glad they were distracted with one another. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, not after whatever the hell it was I woke up to. Better for me, the elevator sat in the other direction. I could see its rolling door starting to close the moment it came into view, with a blue fellow with a pair of handle bars sitting up off of his back standing inside. He, having seen me, moved to press the open door button on the panel, stalling the descent long enough for me to step aboard.

“Morning.” He muttered rather coldly as he slowly shifted off to one side of the elevator, leaving me with room on the other. G’Nur, that was his name, pronounced like “Gunner”, G’nur was another of the people on my floor, a deeply insular type who didn’t often reach out to the other tenants. I didn’t blame him, some of the others could be pretty forward. G’Nur was a bike as far as I could tell, and he worked as a Bar Tender for the Sonic and Surge that Wavelength’s poetry club frequented. Likely more than a coincidence there. 

“Mornin-” I said back, looking out the window onto the crystal spires, and disk shaped buildings set alight under Hadean. We didn’t speak much more than that, pausing at one point as a group of three came in from the workout room on floor 150, only for the five of us to all scatter once we hit the ground floor. The lobby was formal looking, benches, tables, and several massive reception desks. An indoor mithril fountain sat not that far ahead of me with someone sitting on its edge with an Aghartan electrobass in hand. It was- common enough to see street performers in Praxus performing music. The laws were lenient when it came to arts like that, with even graffiti being generally legal. I could still remember the two month deadlock Metalhawk found himself in trying to push for full decriminalization back in M0005.

I myself played music- served as a guitarist in a niche band called “Closer Than It Appears” or “CTIA” pronounced “City-uh” as Glitch likes to call us. Maybe it's for that reason I approached the person playing bass and took a seat beside them. Maybe that's why I pulled my S-Card from the compartment on my hip and transferred over credits via a hand held terminal. The musician, though I didn’t ask her name, offered me a slight nod as her optics looked over at me through a triangular visor. Most of her paint job was a pristine white colour, highly reflective, with the caveat of a blue stripe running down her chest off to one side, situated with a red one beside it. We had similar kibble formats, headlights built into our chest, decorative crystal screens situated on our backs emulating the glass that some organics looked through, wheels sat on the bottoms of our feet. Unlike me though, she had twin exhaust ports situated on the outsides of her legs pointed towards the knees and a pair of nodes situated on her head that seemed to pivot as a method of emoting from a distance, perhaps as compensation for the visor covered optics that were only visible up close. 

“I ‘ppreciate the generosity.” She said to me quietly as her left hand rose up slightly, offering the back of her palm to me. I returned the gesture with my right, tapping the back of my palm up against hers before nodding in response.

“Course, S’no problem.” I added before sitting a moment longer as she began to strum on hardlight strings with one hand while she fluctuated their density using the other. It sounded soothing, some sort of reinventive Magna March that added more of a reverberation to the typical sound. As much as I would have liked to listen longer, work called to me- and so with a faint wave goodbye, I stood up and made my way to the exit, heading off towards the nearest metro-line using my alternate mode.

. . .

“You are being deceived!” A voice declared, as a black and red Cybertronian moved towards me. The way he walked held a certain sway to it, the kind that indicated being not so sober. It wasn’t uncommon to see people dunk on metro-lines, it was far safer than traversal by altmode on account of being track based afterall.

“Uh- okay- Thats uh. Thats the Senator of Kalis’s motto, right?” I asked in response. It sounded familiar, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

There was a delay before a small spark of acknowledgement built in his eyes, only for his head to begin nodding as he steadied himself using one of the handles attached to the ceiling. “Megatran! Yeah. yeah… you a fan? I-I’m a fan. A Senater that- that tells it as is.” His left hand began to strike against his chest only for his entire body to twitch in a sudden jolt.

“Not in particular- no- you good man?” I responded. In all honesty, I disliked Megatron. Even if it weren’t for having additional information from Metalhawk, the way he presented himself in public felt- disconcerting. His platform was built upon fear of organics, often unfounded, often overt lies about people from planets I'd visited during my time in the Vanguard. He used fear to rally the people, to move for expansion, colonization. Some would argue conquering. Despite that most people thought he was charismatic in his own way. Mix that with his military background and it became clear why so many people saw him as an embodiment of the people.

Evidently however, my fellow passenger took offense to my response, letting go of the railing as he once again experienced a full body twitch and began to speak. “Oh I- I see. Yuh- Y-y-you’re one of THEM. One of those- those GANIC supporters.”

“Hey- chill-” My hands rose on their own, trying to convey a sort of defenselessness as his body moved towards mine. I couldn’t back up, and before I could get up, his right hand slammed down into the backing of my seat, essentially pinning my method of escape to one side that he carefully guarded with the rest of his body as his face neared mine. His lips twitched aggressively as though under strain as his deep red eyes gleamed into mine, staring with utmost intensity

“YOU. YOU ARE! I’M TELLING YOU THEY’RE LYING TO YOU! THEY’RE PUTTING CAMERAS IN YOUR HEADS DURING MEDICAL VISITS AND BOMBS IN YOUR SKULLS! THEY ARE USING YOU AS THEIR EYES!” He shouted, spit being flung into the air with each word as his wild eyes spun and struggled to remain locked on mine. Increasingly he kept getting closer to me, until moving his left hand to grab at the side of my face forcefully turning my head as he tried to examine me. My body, in response, moved on its own. Up my left hand swung, as I slammed my palm into the bottom of his jaw causing his teeth to crash into one another and for him to stumble back, offering me a moment to stand up. Before I could move on into another one of the Metro-Cars, he slunked back up, spitting out deep blue fluid before grabbing hold of my head and slamming it by the side into the window, causing it to crack as I felt a splitting pain run through my mind.

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!” I snapped back as I tried to raise my right leg, only for him to grab hold and yank me forward. In my loss of balance my body came crashing down with my left side slamming hard and fast into the seats, only for my head to follow suit as bits of pink fluid trickled down around my body and onto the floor from my head wound. I had been in fights before but this wasn’t those, I could feel neural pathways opening and a sense of deep and carnal fear flooding in. This was not a fight in a controlled environment, and this man before me wanted to actively harm me. My vision on the left side began to fade and blur together as the stinging feeling in my head continued to pulse, only for him to slowly crawl on top of me as he began throwing strikes directly into my face. The first few got through, but I managed to get my arms up to block the further barrage. Each strike was like a typhoon rocking down into my circuity, and I could feel the metal plating in my arms begin to lose its form, denting inward as my body was warped under the assault.

“THEY SENT YOU! THEY SENT YOU DIDN’T THEY! I KNOW THEY SENT YOU! I SAW YOU ON THE SCREENS! ONE OF THE ORGANIC TOOLS! I WONT LET YOU! I WON'T LET YOU CORRUPT MY MIND LIKE EXARCHON!” He screeched in a rabid and disjoined tone of voice, his mouth twitching as it stretched into a scowl filled with gritted teeth. “IF I DESTROY THE HEAD THEY CANT SEE ME!” He raved on as his hands stopped swinging at me, and instead gripped down into my forearms, denting the metal with each finger as he pulled my arms away and slid his left hand down onto my throat, holding me down by it as he pushed his other hand onto my face.

I could feel the pressure building on my neck, It felt like he was going to pop my head off. I could feel my chest beginning to burn as my vision blurred and I reached for his hands, grabbing at them and trying to pull them away in whatever manner I could fashion. I could feel the pressure building in my neck as the cables were stressed and pulled at one another, threatening to snap under continued strain. I could feel my voice box being moved out of place in the process, the sudden shortness of breath, the inability to speak

I tried to yell for help.

I tried to fight.

I tried to make him stop.

I could feel my head pounding harder and harder

Iamgoingtodie.

    I  don't   want    to          die.

        I'm        not         ready           to                 die.

          I

             DON'T

                    WANT

            TO

          DIE.

I WILL                NOT                         DIE

A carnal feeling built inside my fleeing consciousness as my hands rose up like waves from the tide and gripped down onto the sides of his head. I could feel them shaking with the amount of pressure that I moved them with, only for my thumbs to press in on his optical lenses till they broke. I didn’t stop, I kept pressing, kept digging even as he began to scream. I pushed further blinding the fucker and continuing forward till he let go and fell off of me. I continued to fight, even as the deep blue fluid of his body coated my hands. I forced myself up and moved on before slamming my fist as hard as possible into the emergency aid button, causing a deep red light to light up throughout the car. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him starting to get up.

Step by step I moved closer, feeling my body swaying as I did so, only to grow near enough to slam my foot into his jaw, causing him to spit out a lump of energon that spilled onto the floor. Even as he fell back to the ground, the image of Phobos’s body laying in that bar filled my mind, the shade of grey that his metal became. I refused to look like that. I refused to go out. I wanted to live, so again I slammed my foot into his head, breaking his jaw clean off as the metal splintered and dug into my leg. It might have been the pounding in my head, but I swear I could hear the rolling of his Transformation cog as his body began to shift, taking on a new form and in doing so offering him new sight through the sensors of his alternate mode. Treads unfurled from within, and a massive barrel soon extended before heating up as it took aim at me. Though slower than my normal speed, I closed the gap, and pivoted my body out of the way before placing one foot on the base of his tank mode, only to hoist myself up and onto the generalized platform besides the turret.

In the very next moment the sound that I heard was deafening as I felt hot air bloom around my back and arm, only for the sudden shockwave to hit, followed by the recoil of the turret flinging me forward over my attacker and back onto the floor. All I could hear was a high pitch whine inside my head as cold air flooded the Metro-car. By the time I pulled myself up, I could see the hole blown open into the outside as our car continued to move.The embers burning at the edges as smoke and ash were rushed away by the momentum. The red warning lights being drowned out by the natural sky outside. For a moment I considered leaping out down onto the buildings or streets below, taking my chances with an impact. Before I could come to a consensus again, I could see the turret of his tank mode beginning to spin as his form rolled forward on its treads, clearing intent on taking aim at me once again, only for the car door to swing open.

Finally, Finally someone else. Finally someone answered that PIT FORSAKEN EMERGENCY SIGNAL. Gold, silver, and purple paint came moving forward with a modelock rifle in one hand, and a handgun in the other. I think I actually knew her- this member of security. We had spoken once a long time ago about preferred firearm types. Highroller? Was that her name? At the moment I couldn't care less what her name was, she might as well have been a Magnus. I could see, even as my body began to give out, and i collapsed down towards the floor, that my attacker’s aim had switched to focus on her, however mere moments after her arrival, she took aim and repeatedly fired into his alternate mode, stopping only once the turret stopped moving and the barrel slumped down.

I can’t say I was happy with the blacking out that I was experiencing, the visual distortion and the onset of a deadpixel generation in my left optic. Much less the feeling of dread washing over me as I watched her attention drift onto me as she moved closer and knelt down.

“Hey! Hey don’t stasis lock!” I think she said. “Stay online focus! Look at me! Hey! Eyes up here!” I wanted to listen. I really did.