#transformers 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 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:

"Echos By The Mithril Sea" Series

Echos by The Mithril Sea is a generalized name which refers to any Bluestreak focused book. The name is a reference to Praxus being located on the edge of Cybertron's Mithril Sea

Phobia Complex

"Phobia Complex" follows a Prewar Bluestreak’s reaction to the death of a close friend named Phobos, and the investigation surrounding the actions he took leading up to it. It soon becomes clear that Phobos was one of many victims suffering from a condition known as Implant Sickness the origins and causes of which remain unclear.

Part One: Wake

Part Two: Missed Calls

Part Three: Sykosis

Part Four: TBD

Part Five: TBD

Part Six: TBD