#tripleglitchwrites

So, now you have quite a few problems. Not only were the ‘robots’ alive, they were also obviously damaged and asking for your help. Your help. Of all people. You still didn’t know where they came from, if someone was piloting them, how they got here, what that blue liquid was, or why one of them only made weird metallic scratching sounds. That one in particular really freaked you out when it first started ‘speaking’. At the time, you immediately assumed there was a metal demon somewhere coming to eat you.

Instead of that, they were just giant robots asking for your help in the middle of asscrack nowhere. Very simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

“I’m… going to get to work.” You told the one apparently named ‘Prowl’. He didn’t make any sputtering noises at you this time, so you took that as your go-ahead.

He was huge. Well, you knew that, but it was still jarring. You had to literally climb him to get to his wounds. Delicately placing your rag to the injured spot on his neck, you could feel the pump of something akin to a heart under the metal. Now that was weird. Wait, maybe it was just a fuel pump of somesort. He couldn’t… it couldn't have an actual heartbeat, right? Robots don’t have heartbeats.

That isn’t possible.

After a bit of cleaning up blue liquid and trying not to cut yourself on shards of metal, a realization dawned on you. These guys were more complicated than you thought. Really, a robot shouldn’t have this much… everything. They shouldn’t have half of whatever parts are in them. What kind of coding was driving them anyway? What fuel did they even use? The blue stuff?

Oh, who are you kidding. They aren’t robots. They can’t be. They can’t just be robots. They fell from the sky, of course they can’t be robots! Your heart picked up its already erratic pace, yet even with shaky hands, your work took priority.

Soon after there wasn’t a hole in Prowl anymore. Not one on his neck, anyway. You counted that as a win. But seeing as there were way more lacerations, dents, and cuts all over both of them, you definitely had the rest of your work cut out for you.

Simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

—---------------------

Jazz, with his sight still mostly busted, anxiously awaited some sort of indicator that the person helping them was actually patching up Prowl. They seemed pretty stunned earlier. Scared. He had assumed they’d run away and get help. That would be a more reasonable reaction, right?

Obviously it was probably better that they didn’t, this was a completely new planet after all. They’d be scrap if it weren’t for this random person helping them out. This person that is native to this new planet. With… no knowledge of Cybertronian biology- oh scrap. This person had no idea what they were doing!

“W – it! Wa– a - i!” Staticy, barely understandable garble came out of his vocalizer. He heard a tiny peep out of the little guy and a kind of ‘hrmph’ from Prowl.

“What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?” They squeaked in a comically high-pitch tone. “I- I’m sorry, I- know mechanics but this is kind of different and I don’t want to hurt anybody I just-”

“Y- yo- u kno- me- c– nics?”

“Um, yeah, it’s what I do. For school.”

“S- – -ry f’r t--e frig–t, I’m j-st co– m– in’ to–my–sen s- s- ses, an’ rel-i’ed wher– we ar’... an’ I don’ kn- kn- kn- – -w… ca—n– ya- re- – -y fi- x us?”

“O- oh, n- now yo- -y questi- on it?” Prowl commented from the sidelines. Jazz deliberately ignored him.

“I mean, I can, I just need some time to figure everything out… i- it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“W- Wha-t’s’t sayi- in- ing?”

“A- askin’ i- if it- it- it- hu- – -ts.”

“O- of co- rs’ it h-urts!”

“Wait, what’s he saying?”

Jazz cringed for a moment, realizing just how taxing it’s going to be on him to keep translating. Of course, he decided to use it to his advantage. Why not have some fun in the face of certain death?

“H- he s’ys h’s t—ckl’sh.”

“Oh, um, okay. Does that mean you guys can’t feel pain? Like, can I go harder with this? I have some power tools I can use back in—” Okay. Bad plan.

“N- N- N-O we C- – -N Fe’L It!”

“Oh, um, can or can’t?”

“C- C- C- C- CAAIIIEEEZZZZzzzt!” His vocalizer gave off a pointedly unpleasant sound just before shorting out.

“Is that… should I know what that means?” Jazz took a second to reset his vocalizer.

“N- n- n- o… b- b’t w– fe’l pa’n… i–t h- – -rts…”

“Can feel pain, got it. Um, is your voice okay? I can try fixing it… if that’s a thing I can fix…?” As much as he appreciated the gesture, Jazz wasn’t ready for that kind of operation.

“N- n - o thn’ks.”

“Alright… I’m gonna keep going here then.”

It was then, nearly offline, cut off from most forms of communication, on a completely alien planet, that Jazz realized this might be a little bit too much to handle.

“Y- y- you—re an ‘di—ot.”

“M- ay’e… bu— ‘least I c’n t- t- ta-k to ou- fr’nd ‘ere.”

“It’s Wh—lja’k, o- of c-cou’se I d- di—-nnooowoowOWW!” Jazz heard a loud crash followed by a tiny scream.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, what did I do? I- I didn’t know, oh my god…”

“Wh—t? —at ‘appe— d?!”

“I- I’m sorry, I think I hit something, I’m so sorry!”

“Pr—ler? P—owl!?”

He got a groan in response. A groan and a new, distinct, clear sound.

“—bbzzzt —- bzzzt ——tobots! This is Optim— —ime. If yo- can hear thi-, heed my call. The Arc is inoperable. Most of you are scattered across an alien world. While I do not know where the Decepticons have landed, I can confirm they are on the planet with us. Do not lose hope here, my friends. For the fate of Cybertron and the remaining Autobots rests in your capable servos. Attached to this message are the coordinates to the Arc, I will be waiting for you there. Good luck—- bzzzt —— bzzzt—-!”

The three sat in silence. While he couldn’t see the hologram that was most likely coming from Prowl’s projector, he heard what the message contained. They were safe. Optimus was safe. And he once again had a goal to achieve.

“Wh- what the hell was that!?”

“Th’nk Pri—us…” Prowl whispered.

“It -as… a- a- f- fri—nd.”

“Oh, okay. What did your friend say?”

“Th— w- we ha— so—me-here t- be.” Jazz attempted to move his body, but was once again denied. “W- we n- n- ne—d to g—-!”

“Hey, woah woah woah! You are not well enough to get up yet! I haven’t even started patching you up!”

“Aau—augh! I- I- kn— Ratc— uh, I- I- I kno—“

“Settle down. I- I’ll be as fast as I can, alright?”

Jazz huffed in halfhearted agreement. Prowl, on the other hand…

—---------------------

He thought this was an incredible waste of their time. Oh, sure, he needed to be fixed, but he was doing just fine now and he did not need help from a mysterious stranger he couldn’t understand. How could he, Prowl of Petrex, need the help of a tiny little creature like this one? There was no such need. The only need he had was to get himself and Jazz functional again, report back to Optimus, and win the war.

He tried to get up. After about half a second of metal creaking, unconscious groaning, and a little squeak from his benefactor, his body gave out. His spark burned with a searing mixture of frustration and stress as he tried to clench a servo. But of course he couldn’t. Of course he was stuck. Injured, vulnerable, and useless. But still, Optimus needed him. Needed them. So he needed to get up!

“C- cal- m d- do— n Pr—‘er… ye’ sca- a- rin’ ‘em…” He could hear panicked chittering from somewhere on top of him. He had half a mind to shoo the thing away, but even if he could raise his servo, he knew this was his only hope. He would never admit that, obviously, but deep in his spark he knew.

He didn’t respond to Jazz. He didn’t need to. He just focused on the little twinge of pain somewhere atop his chassis and a wound being sealed. A familiar feeling. Not too familiar, not like this, but enough to be comforting.

He imagined the medbay in the Arc. That time when they defeated the enemy and no one had to die. They won, and everyone cheered and celebrated and did whatever people do to express joy during a war.

He was unconscious for cycles. Just because nobody died doesn’t mean nobody was hurt. And he was really, really hurt. But it didn’t matter, not even to him. Moments like that are rare, after all. When one could rejoice without mourning the loss of a friend. He’d only expected Ratchet or First Aid to stay with him during that time. Who wouldn’t want to celebrate the spoils of victory? No one is willing to give up a moment of solace like that. No one is stupid enough to pass up the opportunity for happiness. Except Jazz.

Jazz stayed with him the whole time. He stayed by his bedside, refusing to leave once the required surgery was over. He brought glasses of energon for both of them. To share.

Prowl didn’t wake up then. He missed the party and the congratulations and the relief. He missed Jazz telling him stories and about his day. He missed when the rest of the crew stopped by to check on him. When he did finally come out of stasis, Jazz wasn’t there. Not of his own volition, but because he passed out on the floor due to exhaustion. They both got a long lecture about taking care of themself from Ratchet when it was over.

Movie night. Your favorite time. It just happened to be incredibly difficult to set up with a guy hellbent on working 24/7. Luckily, you knew how to be creative by now. And so when you located a particularly bountiful energon deposit, a plan started to come together.

…

“Don’t.” He rumbled, “Do not touch that.”

Prowl loomed over you like an angry building, but you knew better than to be worried. The mine you’d “accidentally” found was a treasure trove of glittering, luminescent crystals reminiscent of the fantasy worlds in your dreams. It was beautiful, but not your mission. His, maybe, but not yours.

Being about the size of Prowl’s palm, you had to watch your step everywhere you went, else you somehow impale yourself on an energon shard. Of course, you used this to your advantage.

“Hm? Why? You scared?” You teased, just slightly poking the tip of a particularly sharp one.

“No, I’m concerned. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“What’s the problem? I see you drinking this stuff all the time!”

“Yes. Because I run on it, you don’t— it’s not even processed yet! So stop touching it.”

“Oh… I don’t know, it looks pretty delicious…”

“Are you glitched?”

“We’re about to find out!” You just about graze your teeth on a crystal before you are unceremoniously yanked away by a gigantic metal hand.

“Seriously, what in Primus’s name do you think you’re— oh. Oh. You little— don’t give me that, I can see what you’re doing!”

“Oh? And what am I doing exactly?” You grinned. He growled back.

“You have the right to remain silent. We’re going back to base and reporting this to Prime.”

And so you did. And he carried you the entire way back. You didn’t want to stay there for any longer than you had to, as pretty as it was, because tonight was movie night.

Prowl never left a job unfinished when it was right in front of his face. You suspected he would try and execute every procedure ever passed into law when it came to new energon deposits on an alien planet, even if he’d been living there for months now. And he would’ve done it right there. Standing in the equivalent to a cave full of explosives. Like a stubborn idiot.

You also knew that, if he didn’t do it, the rest of the Autobots would. Like they’re supposed to. Because it’s their job. With a mine like that, they’d be occupied for the entire night. How convenient…

…

When you finally arrived back at headquarters, he was already heading to his office. “Office” being a loose term here, as it was really just a room he put a desk, chair, and datapads in. The most basic, bland, boring kind. That was all he needed.

But not you. And you were going to make sure your plans went through.

“PROOOOOWL!!” You yowled right next to his audial receptor. He’d been doing whatever important report, but you figured it could wait.

“AGH!” He jointed up in his head, “WHAT?!”

“It’s almost time! Movie night!”

“Oh- you little fragging scraplet, can’t you see I’m doing something important?”

“More important than Terminator? Or Robocop?”

“Leagues more important than those sorry excuses for mechanical representation.”

“Oh, fine, I’ll just… put on Spaceballs…” He stopped.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And I’d play it so loud that you could never focus on your work.”

“Don’t—” but you had already slid down his desk, racing to the adjacent room.

“YOU— DO NOT PLAY THAT AWFUL FILM!”

“I can’t hear you over the sounds of LONE STARR and his GOOFY GANG of SILLY characters!”

He could never catch you in time. Not because he wasn’t fast enough, no, he could pick you up in a second, but because you already had the trap set. The room you’d ran into was decked out with the best projector tech you could find. (AKA, the best projector tech you could convince Nightshade to make without turning the movie into a 5D nightmare) You had popcorn, energon candy, a mountain of blankets, and quite the wide array of tasteful films.

When he finally entered your snare, you received the most withering death glare known to mankind. But everything that withers must also bloom, and you could see joy behind his optics. Mostly because they were shining significantly brighter than usual. Hah, and he thinks you can’t tell when he’s hiding his real feelings.

The fairy lights you’d set up glowed a beautiful gold against otherwise dark corners. Your face was just slightly visible, especially with how small it was compared to him, but you knew he could see your beaming smile. He let out an exaggerated ex-vent, doorwings forcefully dropping and optics rolling. Still, once he finally sat down next to you, you saw them perk right back up again.

“We aren’t watching that horrendous mockery of a movie, right?”

“Psh, I don’t even have the DVD anymore. You broke it after flipping the table. Tonight, you get to decide what we watch.”

“Wait, I… but I thought you enjoyed choosing the film.”

“Sure I do. But I want to watch what you want to watch tonight.”

And his optics grew bright again, illuminating your wide selection of 80’s, 90’s, and early 2000’s DVDs. Breakfast Club, Mean Girls, Star Wars, The Godfather, Planet of the Apes… everything you could think of he hadn’t already seen.

So you were a little caught off guard when he chose The Princess Bride. Something he’d seen nearly ten times already.

Oh, sure, he played it off as an excuse to ‘get to know human culture’, but the same could be said for every other movie on the planet. You didn’t argue.

As the night progressed, you were eventually able to get him to pick you up. For a guy who claims to dislike soft things, he sure does put up with a lot of pillows and blankets for you.

You tried not to move when he unconsciously ran a digit down your back. Or when he pet your hair. Or when he adjusted himself to make sure you weren’t about to fall out of his fabric covered palm.

You fell asleep long before the movie ended. You couldn’t possibly know that he denied every call on his comm link, shooed away any bot curious enough to crack open the door, and completely forgot about the report that had been oh so important earlier.

You also couldn’t know that, had he wanted to, he could just turn his audials off if he didn’t want to hear you watch Spaceballs. He could’ve left you at the base when he realized you’d stumbled upon an energon mine. He could’ve made you leave his office when he worked on his reports. But he didn’t. He didn’t because the minuscule weight you provided in his servos was everything he needed.

The planet they ended up on was beautiful. It was filled with so much life, most creatures too small for him to hold or see properly, but that didn’t make them any less amazing! The sheer variety in each and every species was astounding. To think they had been here all this time, just waiting for someone to find them.

The Ark had landed near one of the planets many oceans. Water covered most of planet actually, which made for quite a wide array of biodiversity both on land and in sea. The area he’d found himself in had tall trees with only a bush like flourish of leaves on its top, plenty of grasses and flowers, as well as a lot of sand. A lot of sand. Not his favorite, but things like that were common in places unlike Cybertron.

In the water nearby he spotted splashing, something other than the crashing waves hounding the shore. Out of curiosity he trotted over to investigate. A slick, gray marine lifeform was making arcs leaping from the water into the air. It was too far out for him to truly get a good look at it, but it was a fascinating being even from where he was standing. Just as he stepped into part of the shallows in a vain attempt to get closer, there was a scuttling at his pedes.

A very small crustacean was darting away from him. Unfortunately Beachcomber was a little too big to properly handle the thing without accidentally hurting it. It seemed to have an array of legs with two large pincers on its front. For protection maybe? Hunting for prey? It crawled out of sight before he could figure it out. Beachcomber ex-vented. There had to be something here he could get closer look at….

Oh well. He still had some time before he had to get back to the arc. Optimus had specifically told everyone not to get involved with the local dominant species, but how was he supposed to pass up an opportunity like that? The war had robbed him of peaceful interaction with countless other races. Now that they were hiding here, maybe he’d have the time to communicate with a brand new people!

The time passed slowly. Most of the organisms were either too far in the water or too small to handle. They were all terrified of him too, which made sense, but it was still a bummer. He’d really hoped to make a grand discovery here, it seemed like a great habitat for plenty of species. Turning away for the water, Beachcomber decided it may be time to give up for the cycle. Maybe he’d try a different place next time, or a- OH!

When he came to turn around, something new was standing in front of him. Bipedal, strikingly similar to a Cybertronain, just… smaller, and with… fabrics, and… carrying something. He hadn’t seen anything on this planet wear fabrics before… or approach him willingly, this had to be the sentient species of the planet! How lucky was he to meet one just as he was about to leave!

It- or, they, he supposed, began warbling something at him. This was a fantastic opportunity to communicate! Quickly Beachcomber fell to his knees in order to get closer to the new person, inadvertently causing the ground to shake around them, the person stumbled. They took more steps back in hesitation, obviously weary.

“No, no, sorry, I’m not tryin’ to scare ya.” Narrowed eyes met his own optics. In an effort to connect, Beachcomber held out a digit. “See? I’m not hurtin’ nobody.”

Their little eyes sparkled with curiosity, and though he detected a healthy amount of hesitation, they put both their hands on his one digit after flinging the object they were carrying over their shoulder. The tiny servos were warmer than he thought, it was very pleasant feeling actually. Their lips curled up into a shy smile.

Beachcomber could hardly contain himself. This was the discovery of a lifetime! Well, maybe not a lifetime, but it was still fascinating to witness! They weren’t as afraid of him as the rest of the creatures, they were intelligent, sentient! He’s been over that fact in his head before, yet it still astounded him. Prime might be upset with him if he knew… but no self respecting bot would pass up an scientific opportunity like this. Maybe Wheeljack would want to see… no, actually, on second thought that’s probably a horrible idea. Bumblebee maybe? Or Percy. He wasn’t even supposed to be here though, what is he was found out? What if- a sound coming from below dragged Beachcomber out of his thoughts. The person was doing something with the object they had, seemingly opening it. It’s a carrying device then!

They bent down and set it on the ground, still wearily gazing up at him. From inside the device, they pulled out some small rectangular object with a glass lens in the middle and some other bits and bobs around its front. Of course he didn’t have any idea what it was. Alien technology isn’t something easily understood at first glance.

In his frenzied daze, Beachcomber completely forgot one key component about actually communicating with this new species: language. That didn’t stop him from trying to talk to them anyway.

“Hey, what’s your designation little guy?” The creature raised the object to its optic and pressed a button, causing the thing to make a bright flash at Beachcomber. He immediately went on the defensive and positioned his helm much farther from the thing, ready to use his servos is need be- a product of fighting for so long. However, the flash didn’t seem to have any effect on him or the creature, though his little friend was visibly caught off guard with his sudden movement. Primus, he really needed to stop doing that if he was going to talk to this thing!

Not long after a small white slip of something began to come out of the bottom of the device. The creature grabbed it and began waving it around in the air… was it another attempt to communicate? Or maybe a threat display or some kind? Against his better judgement, Beachcomber brought himself closer once again. This time, he resigned to observation. Studying other species always intrigued him. Organic species especially, he could never get over how soft some of them were! Like this one, their little cheeks were so pinch-able! Oh how he would love to talk to them about it… but at the moment the language barrier was too large.

Or so he thought.

The white slip began to change color the longer it was waved in the air. He hardly noticed it at first, and he couldn’t get a good look at what was appearing before it was turned away from him. To Beachcomber’s surprise, they began warbling at him again, and to his even greater surprise, they showed him what was on the slip.

It was him. It was a picture of Beachcomber.

Needless to say, he nearly shouted at the poor thing in pure excitement. Luckily he was able to contain himself through the power of focusing all his energy into thinking about the implications of this rather than actually moving or saying anything. What is this technology? How did they do that? Did they make it themselves? Oh, the questions he had were making it hard to think!!

“What an interesting lil’ one you are…” He slowly raised one of his digits to them. They backed up, hesitant, but he didn’t chase them. He just kept his digit patiently in place. As it seemed, that patience was about to pay off.

The creature stared at him for a second. Then, after carefully setting down their device, they raised their own tiny servo to his digit. Their squishy little palm radiated warmth. Beachcomber radiated utter joy. Their itty bitty face shifted from what he assumed was fear to an astounded wonder. He could even feel something that reminded him of a sparkbeat behind their digits. He couldn’t hide his smile.

Unfortunately, the bearing of dente seemed to scare them a little. The wonder on their face was replaced with nervous concern as they retracted their servo and took a step back. Beachcomber immediately covered his intake and shifted his weight away from the creature. They were so skiddish! But that was probably how any rational being would react in this situation…

Now what was he supposed to do? He could try again, they responded well to the slow movement before, maybe they would understand he was trying to make a positive connection. Maybe he could find them fuel, they’d like fuel, right? His mind traveled elsewhere as he became lost in thought. Just when he decided on what to do, (try slow moments again) he felt something on the tip of one of his digits- one that was splayed on the ground after he moved back.

It was the creature. They’d made their way towards him while he was preoccupied in his thoughts. The expression of contemplation he held previously dropped like a weight off his chassis. At that, they smiled. It was awkward and unconfident, but it was a symbol of mutual understanding. He didn’t know exactly why… but it felt like an apology.

Beachcomber pulled his lips into a much neater grin. The creature brightened up at that, chirping at him and bouncing in place. He took the opportunity to move his other servo slowly towards them. They acknowledged the change but didn’t shy away. Carefully, as they stood there with wide and curious optics, he rubbed a digit on their helm. He was both ecstatic and astonished to see they didn’t try and push it away or take it as a threat. They just waited until he was done.

When he did finish, he figured it was time to take the next step. Beachcomber slowly brought his servo down palm-up right next to the creature. They were a bit confused as to what he was trying to do, but when he took his other servo and tapped his palm with a gentle metal clink, they seemed to understand. With weary but brave movements, they put one pede on the living platform. Then another. Cautiously, they made their way to the dip of his palm.

Beachcomber gave them a second to find a comfortable position. When they did, he began to move. He began slow enough that they would be able to jump off if they felt uncomfortable. To his delight, they stayed put.

As the planet’s star began to dip down under the horizon line, Beachcomber held the creature close to his chassis. His spark was filled with complete warmth for the first time in a long time. It was a comfort he’d been missing since the war started.

The two simply sat there in a serene moment of peace and appreciation. This planet wasn’t his home, but it was the home of the friend he made today. No matter what, he vowed to protect this harmony at all costs. But for now, he resigned to watching the sunset and feeling the lightweight creature on his servo tap a soft and gentle beat on the metal.

An idiot would go toward the burning pieces of metal that just fell out of the sky. Of course, you were already halfway there, being the most outstanding idiot ever born. Curse the empathy that boiled in your heart for the people trapped in an imaginary crashed plane. You hoped it was imaginary at least. Really you just hoped this was all some very realistic nightmare.

As you got closer, the smoke in the sky died down. Whatever was up there had probably crashed somewhere else by now. Probably somewhere halfway around the globe if you had to guess.

It was both strange and reliving to see there was no fire burning around the crash site. Though, it was hard to tell what crashed even without a blazing inferno blocking your view. Whatever it was it was metal, white, and… leaking something? It was a strange bright blue liquid, like radioactive cool-aid or something. Oh god, was this thing radioactive?

Well, if it was you were screwed anyway. Might as well figure out what happened before you had heart palpitations or whatever radiation poisoning does to the human body. However, as you got closer, three things became evident.

1. It was definitely not a plane crash.

2. There were actually two giant metal things, not one.

3. Holy shit that’s a giant hand.

It would’ve been smart to run then. You didn’t. The whole ‘most outstanding idiot ever born’ thing became apparent when it finally clicked that the giant metal hand was attached to a giant metal body. Two giant metal bodies. They were pretty far apart, and as a result that blue liquid pooled somewhere in the middle of them.

It was almost hypnotizing how bright it was. You almost forgot how terrified you were. It was so enrapturing you nearly jumped out of your skin when one of the robots (?) made a sputtering noise. It seemed to just be some kind of mechanism that failed in one of them, since more liquid came spraying out. They were both “bleeding” pretty bad, actually. They weren’t alive though. Right? You didn’t see how they could be.

Still, if it wasn’t a plane crash, where the hell did these things come from anyway? Other than the sky.

Hah. Giant robots from the sky. Definitely more entertaining than camping. They didn’t pose any immediate danger, you supposed, maybe if you fixed them up you could prove once and for all your skill in mechanics was all you need. Technically you were sent out here to build something with little resources, why not take advantage of this unexpected opportunity? Your mother would have her mind blown when she saw what you’d done.

On the exhausting jog back to the campsite in order to get your tools, the events you witnessed kept playing back in your mind. Things appearing out of nowhere, black smoke covering the sky, random explosions happening. You were probably in shock, all things considered. There had to be some long lasting mental impacts of all that. But as you arrived at your destination and grabbed everything you could carry, it looked like you’d just have to have trauma and fix up the sky robots.

—————————

The world skidded to a halt. Darkness draped over Prowl like a veil over a mourning widow. Though he wasn’t exactly conscious, so the concept of darkness was lost on him. When the bot was fading out, he didn’t expect to wake up again. Which is why he was so surprised when he did.

Prowl’s energon levels were still incredibly low. Most of his senses were offline. But, despite being close to death, his condition wasn’t getting worse. Had the rest of the Autobots found him? Had the Deceptions found him?

Luckily, it wasn’t long before his optics came back online. His vision was considerably worse than before, with him only being able to make out blurry shapes, light, and colors, but it was better than the black abyss. The ringing in his audials was replaced with a sharp high pitched screaming sound followed by silence. Silence was nice. He liked silence. Why did he feel like it shouldn’t be silent?

Trying his best to run back through his memory to deduce what had happened, Prowl quickly came to the realization he had no idea where Jazz was. Usually he’d be thrilled that Jazz had finally shut his mouth for a bit, but in this situation it only made his spark sink.

He tried to turn his helm to look to the side. After an agonizing second, he succeeded! He couldn’t make out much of anything, but at least he could accomplish slight movement. Though, when he did finally process the blur of shapes ahead of him, he couldn’t quite tell if the moving figure he saw was real or not.

Either way it looked like they were still in the same place they crashed on, so being found by a fellow cybertronian was most likely out of the question.

Any sensors he had to detect foreign creatures were completely offline, so he just had to hope hallucinations were normal when faced with life threatening injuries. He did find the weird warbling noise it made concerning though. Did hallucinations make noise?

Apparently now was not the time to find out, because another definitely not hallucinated noise reached him. The creaking of metal, the groaning of someone in pain, the voice of a friend. Jazz.

“P- p- pr- — -at hap—ned? St- — -sis en—ed e- ea—-ly. E- e- ner- g—n sta— b— le.” Prowl tried to respond, but whatever came out didn’t even begin to resemble a voice. Another high pitched screech assaulted his sensors. A glitch probably. Hopefully.

However, if he did understand what Jazz was saying, they were both experiencing the same thing. They were alive and not leaking energon anymore. There were no mechanical life signs on this planet when they first reached it before the battle, maybe the Arc had faulty scanners…? How could they be even slightly repaired while on a planet with no sentient life?

…unless?

———

Prowl always overthought things. That’s was Jazz made fun of him for anyway. The guy had backup plans for his backup plans, complete with an additional plan C, D, and E just for good measure. But now, missing an arm, most of his energon, and any sort of communication with the outside world, he wished he had those plans.

When Jazz came back online he immediately mustered up the strength to try and contact Prowl, but all he got was a garbled choking sound in response. Strange they were both awake in the first place, Jazz thought, why exit stasis in a state like this? He wasn’t losing anymore energon, had somebody patched him up?

Even with his newfound conciseness, his optics were still out of order. And he was pretty much immobile. Oh, but look, his pain receptors were coming back online. Very helpful. Luckily it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Usually getting a limb removed would hurt a lot more. He would know, this isn’t even the third time he’s lost that arm!

Even with his prior experience with pain and such, he’d be the first to admit the next thing he felt was strange. There was a small but warm touch on his still-attached arm. From what he had no idea, but at least it didn’t feel threatening. It was soft. Probably because they were on an organic planet. That would mean whatever was touching him had to be alive. And it was making noise! Really it was unlike anything he’d ever heard. It was smooth and rounded, no bite to it at all. He wished Prowl would talk like that once and awhile.

Scrap, Prowl. He never actually responded.

“D- do y- — -u rea- m- -e? G- gi— me a s- s- s- ign ‘ere P- r- — -ler!”

“S— -ill f- f- unc— ti- ning.” Jazz instinctually tried to ex-vent in relief, but it mostly came out as hacking coughs.

“H-haha! B- b- arl—y.”

“Y- ‘re o- ne to -alk.” During their brief ‘conversation’, both bots heard something strange from somewhere around them. It was a mix of the screeching Prowl heard and the soft noise Jazz heard. Now it was clear enough for both of them to hear. Actually, it was even clearer to Jazz. Almost like… a language.

“D- do y—u h- — -ar t- th- -t?”

“T- h’s is n- n- n- no ti- m -e to wo- -r- y a- bou- c- cre- t- ure c- ca- — -ls.”

“I- it’s m- mo’e t- th- han a c- ca- — -l. It… I- I t- thi- nk it’s t- tal—in’.”

“I- Imposs- ible.”

“Hello? Is ————— there? Anyone there at all? Please, there’s s————g wrong here, these- these ——t metal robots appeared out of the sky and, and I know it s—-nds crazy, I —ow, but if you c— hear me, please get he— — fast as you can. Please.” Jazz definitely heard a voice from those distant noises.

“I- it IS a l—angu—ge!”

“W- wh — t in t- he P- Pi - t are y- yo - u t—king ab- — -t?”

“Wait, who said that? Who’s there?”

“D- do—‘t y- yo-u h- h- ear i- it P- Pro- — -ler?!” Despite his damaged systems, something managed to come through unscathed. Something Prowl never bothered to implement.

“I- it- ‘s a- an a- ani- mal, Ja- — -z. Y- you- r p- pro- ces- sor…. dam- m- m- aged.”

“It can’t be… you? You, are you talking?” The voice asked.

“My p—cess—or -s f- in- e.” He said to Prowl, quickly turning his attention to this strange new person. “D- di- — -ou s- sav- -us, l- lit- le g- guy?”

“It is you… a- are you talking to me?”

“I- ‘s ‘ere an- n- yon- -e el- -s- -e a- a roun- d?”

“W- wh- o a- re y- yo u tal-“

“It’s just me… and the other robot.” The voice paused. “I can’t do this. I- I’ve gotten in over my head. This is insane! This is insane. I need to go.”

“W- — -ait!” Jazz shouted louder than he thought he could. “W- we n- n- ne — d h- hel —p. Y- yo- u stop- pe — th- the e’erg- gon, r- rig- ht?”

“J- Jaz-z, you’ —e hu- rt. P- pl- eas-“ Prowl attempted to cut in.

“Well, I did try and patch up the holes, I got the liquid to stop, but you- you’re alive, and- and talking to me! Mostly.”

“T- th- at’s w- wh- y we n- nee- d h- he — p. Ple- — -se h- he-lp u- us.”

“I can see that you’re hurt, but I don’t even know what you are, even if I tried I don’t know if I could… fix anything.” Again, the voice contemplated. “But I can make an attempt… if it means saving lives.”

“T- th- ank y- you.” After Jazz stopped talking and the noises Prowl heard subsided, his mind was left spinning after what he’d just witnessed. Well, ‘witness’ was a bit of an overstatement considering he could hardly see, but that didn’t staunch his flow of worry for Jazz. Talking to himself- or that noise- there had to be something wrong with his head. He couldn’t lose Jazz now. Not like this.

Not too long after it had gone silent, he felt a strange sensation on his torso. It was soft and warm, two things he disliked, but this touch was different. It was small and tender, almost afraid.

“I’m going to start with you, okay?”

More of those noises.

“T- th- at’s P- Pro - l. P- P- ro- — -l. Pro- wl.”

“Prowl?”

“Y- ye- s.”

“Alright then Prowl, you’re first.” He didn’t have the energy to keep asking Jazz who he was talking to. They both needed to conserve energy. For Prowl that was getting harder with the pitter patter he was feeling. “So… can you talk, Prowl?”

“H- he -an… jus’ w- wo-‘t.”

“W- wh- t? Y- ou- ta — lkin- g a- bo- ut me?”

“—ou r- re- eall- y c- ca- — -t un- d- der—and t- th-em?”

“A- are you talking to, um, him? I- you know I’ll stop… um, interrupting.”

“Y- yo- ‘re da- da- dama - g- ed!” While Jazz fully believed he was completely fine mentally, it was weird Prowl couldn’t hear what the little voice was saying. It could be something with languages, even if they didn’t detect any sentient life on the planet doesn’t mean there was none, so maybe- wait. Wait… oh. Oh Prowl, that stubborn idiot.

“D- d- id y- yo- u t- tak- e Jack- ie’s u- uni- v- — -sal t- tran-ator t- hing— y?”

“W- wh- at? N- no. N- not i- if h- e m- mad- e i-it. Ja—z yo-u n- nee- t-o r-res… t.” Of course Prowl didn’t take it. Even Ratchet took it! But that stubborn ass didn’t.

“I- d- id. I- it a- acti- va- ted o- on i- it’s o- own. I- I c- can un- erstan- d t- the c- calls. Y- yo- u c- can’t.”

“T- th- at isn’t-“

“C- ca- n i- it, t- t- tin c- an. Li- list—n. The- y s- sai-d they— hel- lp u- us. L- let t- the- m.”

“I’m… going to get to work.” Prowl, in fatigued frustration, didn’t reply. He was mostly focused on the small weight on his chassis. It was crawling up to his helm.

He was unable to move- to stop it, scrap, he could be killed right here and now and-

It stopped. Right in front of a terrible gash just near his neck cabling. Whatever was on him slowly put its weight down, slowly getting closer. His already overworked spark began to beat faster.

And yet, he could feel the wound being… sealed. It had been kind of sealed prior, but this time it was being properly healed, not haphazardly patched. If this kept up, he might even get full use of his voice box back sooner rather than later. While Prowl’s trust was thin, and he would prefer if no strange creatures jumped on his body, he didn’t have any other choice.

When the ship was hit, Jazz and Prowl were already on deck and preparing a counterattack. They’d tried everything to cloak the ship from the Decepticons, but unfortunately they failed. One good shot to the Arcs main thrusters and it was starting to look like game over. Luckily that desperate shot gave Prowl a great opportunity to strike back. He landed a near perfect hit on the Nemesis before Optimus ordered a retreat.

Most of the crew were heading toward the escape pods per protocol, which was just fine by Prowl, but the damage to the Arc was severe. Severe enough that without somebody staying behind to keep it flying for a little longer, nobody would make it out with their sparks intact. Now, Prowl was never one to go against orders, especially not from Optimus, but there were little other options he had. As third in command it was his obligation to do everything in his power to save the lives of his crew.

Jazz knew that too. He just wasn’t a hardass.

“Heya Prowler, got cherself in a tangle here, eh?”

“This is not the time for jokes!” He snapped.

“Hey, hey, no joking here. I know what you’re tryin’ to do. And I’m gonna help ya.”

“No, I can keep the Arc up for long enough-”

“Cool it hothead, I’m second in command, remember? You take orders for me. And I say I’m helpin’”

“What about Optim-“

“He’s helpin’ the rest escape. I’m sure he plans to do this himself if we don’t take the wheel.” The ship trembled around them. “I’ll take the thrusters, you protect the pods.”

Prowl mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Please stop cutting me off.” With that the Arc began its final decent. From the windows Prowl watched as escape pods flew out of the ship one by one. He did everything he could to prevent his friends from being turned into scrap midair. In seconds the number of pods still in danger trickled out. Warning signs flashed on every screen in the room, but neither paid much mind. As long as their cause continued, dying here wasn’t so bad, right?

Fate had other plans, though.

As the thrusters finally lost power and the ship began to rapidly descend to the planet below, Prowl and Jazz watched as each system went down one by one. Life support: offline, shields: offline, warp core: offline, escape pods… offline. They could only hope the rest made it out okay.

The fact a stray shot from what they assumed to be the Nemesis was hurtling towards them wasn’t really ideal. Neither bot had the time to react before the entire room was engulfed in flame. The windows shattered from the force, sending everything inside out into the atmosphere, including Prowl and Jazz.

——————————

The Arc was gone. Gone as in nobody knew where it was at least, which might as well be nowhere at all considering this planet was entirely alien. Actually, where was this planet? Where were they? Wait… who’s they? What’s a planet…? Wait, no, wait- what?

Jazz was running dangerously low on energon. And his left arm, apparently. That was definitely gone. His optics were offline for the time being, as were most of his senses. Luckily that included pain! Unluckily, he could be literally anywhere right now. And so could the rest of the crew…. and Prowl.

Prowl landed hard upon a canopy of trees that immediately gave under his weight. He couldn’t hear much outside of the ringing in his audials. Maybe that was lucky, maybe he wasn’t actually falling through trees on a faraway planet. Maybe he was getting chewed out by Jazz for being stupid, or tuning out Swerve for being Swerve.

…Deep down he knew that was wrong. He should be dead. Maybe he was. Maybe death was better than whatever going on now.

No. No, that was the cowards way out. Get up, Prowl, open your optics. One step at a time. You’re a soldier, you’re a commander. This is no time to be sitting around and- HACK — his body lurched as he spit up energon.

Alright, ok, slower then.

He could feel his entire frame creak. Slowly his optics sparked to life. The world was dim and glitchy. Objects around him moved in ways nothing should ever move. He wished Ratchet were there. He wished anyone were there. Wasn’t there somebody else that was supposed to be there?

“Prowler?” A weak but familiar voice sounded from somewhere far, far away. Or was it very close? It was hard to tell. “P- Prowler, my optics- are you there?”

“Jazz…” He replied almost unconsciously. “A- a- affirmative.” Most of his professor was screaming system failure, warning him of what he already suspected. He couldn’t see Jazz, not in his immediate line of sight, but knowing he was there was comforting. Knowing he was there for the end.

“W- we need h- help, com’on, we n- nee-”

“It’s o- okay. I- it’ll be okay, J- Jazz.” It wasn’t often Prowl was willing to talk so openly to others. Not about how he really felt at the moment. But who was around to witness this anyway? Who would be there to see his vulnerability? Rules, regulations, laws, sanctions, they didn’t matter anymore. His job was done now, right? He’d done well?

“B- big talk for a b- bot that soun’s l- like a g- g- glitch ‘ouse.”

“Haha. F- funny.”

“We must b- be in b- b- big trouble if t- the mighty Prowl is l- laughin’.”

Warning: System failure imminent

“W- we m- must be j- just f- fine if you c- can still crack j- jokes.”

Stasis mode will activate in 5…

“G- got me t- there, P- Prowl- ler.”

4…

“…W- who gave you p’mission to c- call me Pr- Prowler…”

3…

“A- ah, there’s t- the tightass I kn- know.”

2…

“Y- you’re r- really g- going to go out like t- th- this, J- Jazz?”

1…

“N- no b- better way, Prowl- Prowl- Prowler.”

Initiating stasis…

“Goodnight.”

“G- Goodnight…”

Procedure successful.

——————————————

Camping. Frankly, you hated it. It sucked! It all sucked. You’d much rather be back in the garage working on whatever project you had going on at the time. Cars were your specialty, though you chose to believe you could fix anything if enough effort was put into it. Unfortunately, out here in the middle of NOWHERE, you were out of luck when it came to machinery.

It was still bright out when you went to set up your tent. A beautiful, clear sky. You picked some random clearing near a small stream to lay your things down. While camping wasn’t your strong suit, building definitely was. That’s why you were even doing this in the first place- “no better teacher than experience”, your mother told you. You didn’t see what kind of mechanical experience you’d gain from this bullshit, but you also knew better than to question her.

Whether you wanted to be here or not, time still kept marching forward, and you wanted to save every bit of daylight you could before the forest got too dark to traverse. It took about an hour to get your campsite set up enough to be livable. You were expected to do much before time was up, but you had a couple days to complete that. Ugh, days. You had to spend days out here.

The sky darkened a little earlier than you expected. Sunset was in an hour, yet the perfect blue you’d been enjoying before was slowly being dimmed. When you looked up you saw black clouds. The kind that roll over the sky when a thunderstorm happens. The forecast didn’t call for rain, and even if it did it’s not like you weren’t prepared, but those were definitely no good omen.

A strange, low droning noise became more apparent the darker the sky got. You were trying to ignore it before, maybe the forest just made that sound sometimes. But no, when you looked up, you could make out something else strange.

Those clouds were coming from… nowhere, it seemed. Like two very very very tiny planes were producing enough smoke to cover the sun like a volcano.

Then it got weirder.

Strange little black things begun to jet out from thin air. They went in all different directions, some producing smoke themselves. You finally came to your senses when something up there definitely exploded. Whatever the hell was happening in the sky was not normal and you were not going to be in a random forest when the apocalypse or whatever came. More sounds crashed above, each getting louder by the second. While most of the black things were headed far from your location, you didn’t want to be there when one landed.

The campsite was left abandoned. Your legs felt like someone put them through a taffy puller. Your brain was so focused on getting back to civilization you didn’t notice the glaring issue right above your head.

Well, it was less glaring and more hurtling. Hurtling towards you. From the sky.

Needless to say, you were not very happy when the ground shook and a shockwave of dirt and ash blew past you. You were surprised there wasn’t a crater or a forest fire or something. No, instead there was… well you were too far to see, but it was strange. White metal, maybe.

A terrifying thought passed through your panic stricken head. Somebody could be over there. Maybe it was a plane crash, maybe people were dying, or- or worse! Whatever you were witnessing wasn’t normal, obviously, but hell if you were going to sit on your ass while (assumed) people were in danger.

Ah, the junkyard. A beautiful array of scrap metal glinting under the sun day after day, perfect for welding and crafting. For the longest time the atmosphere of the place put you off, but your drive to create overtook your fear and replaced it with passion.

The day your life changed was no different than any other. You took your time packing your things, preparing to scavenge once again, though the evening sun was already threatening to advance further down the sky. You didn’t need much, it wasn’t a far trip and certainly not a difficult one. You left in good time, pushing down the uneasy feeling you got when you stepped outside the house.

There was a specific piece of metal you were looking for, one you saw a couple days ago but wouldn’t fit in your cart due to how full it had been. It was the perfect size and shape for what you needed, of course you had to leave behind the one thing you needed now, though it couldn’t hurt to pick up some other materials while you were at it. Masterfully navigating your way through the junk was a special talent of yours, one you were quite proud of, so it struck you as odd when a random truck showed up in the middle of the yard.

It was red and blue, one of those trucks that carried huge cargo boxes and were scary to drive next to. It was pretty beat up, though you can’t imagine why someone would leave it here of all places rather than a used car lot or something. Well, you thought, it wasn’t your problem, so you didn’t treat it as such. You simply continued your search. There were so many great pieces of metal, you ended up staying there until dusk, yet you still couldn’t find the one you were looking for.

Now that you think about it, it must’ve been where that truck was now. Maybe somebody moved it, or worse, took it. It would be a huge bummer to lose such a perfect piece to your puzzle, so you figured staying out to look near the truck wouldn’t hurt anybody.

After around ten minutes of picking through trash, you heard a sound. It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was unnerving to say the least. It sounded like metal scraping together so you brushed it off as the wind blowing on some light metal or something. Five minutes later it happened again, this time louder. Not long after it happened again, and by now you were getting pretty freaked out.

Taking metal from the scrapyard wasn’t particularly illegal, after all you’d learned how to do it properly from your law-abiding friends, however it came with a certain set of risks. Getting cut by rusty metal, stepping on a stray nail, or even getting robbed by someone who preys on scrap pickers like yourself. You didn’t want to know what the sound was and you weren’t about to find out, perfect piece be dammed. It was time to cut your losses.

You didn’t take two steps before it happened.

A strange, mechanical, alien sound rattled from behind you. You whipped your head around despite your survival instincts telling you to run immediately. Before your very eyes the red and blue truck started pulling itself part, little pieces forming a much, much larger figure. It looked nearly human really, if not for being impossibly large and also a robot truck.

A gobsmacked look etched itself on your face, not that you noticed it. You were a little preoccupied at the time, with the giant robot reaching a giant robot hand at you. Just then you realized there was a giant robot hand reaching at you, and you screamed louder than any horror movie victim ever could. The hand froze for a second, taken aback by your sudden noise, but when you remained frozen it continued its pursuit.

It was already too late by the time your body agreed to let you move. Incomprehensibly large fingers wrapped around your comparatively small form, gripping you tight enough to stop any struggles you tried to make. The thing held you up to its face, bright blue eyes shining like headlights in your vision. There were plenty of words that came from your mouth at the time, none of which were at any point comprehendible. To your utter shock, the robot seemed to notice this.

“Perhaps I have downloaded the wrong language pack… or I have found the wrong species…” It said to itself in a distinctly human voice.

“Wh- what the- what are- what are you?” Hooray! You got a sentence out. Your heart was not as excited though, as it felt more like it was going to pound out of your chest.

“So you can speak.” The voice boomed, knocking any hope you had of replying out of your throat.

“What?? What???” You rasped out, two words was better than none, you supposed.

“Did I… break you?”

“Did you- no, no you… didn’t. Please don’t.”

“I do not intend to bring you any harm, little one.“

“Then… stop squeezing… me” The grip immediately loosened. You took in a deep breath of air. “Thank you…”

“My sincerest apologies, I did not mean to hurt you.”

“That’s good to know… but, um, what exactly are you? I asked it before but… you know.” The robot nodded with you, a thoughtful motion but a generally unwelcome one because even the smallest moments it made caused you a bout nausea.

“Yes, introductions. My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots.” Optimus Prime… a strange name. Though it’s not like your current situation was any more normal.

“…I’m Whyen, nice to meet you. Could you… put me down, by any chance?” Optimus nodded, gently setting you down. He stood up again, but realized how much you had to crane your neck up to see him, so he resolved to a kneel.

“What are you.” However tough he looked on the outside, you would feel the sheer curiosity oozing off his voice.

“Uh, I’m a human.”

“Human… and you’re the dominant species on this planet?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I see. I was lucky to find a vehicle mode with your language on it.”

“I… don’t really know what that means but ok. So, what are you?”

“I am Cybertronian, from the planet Cybertron.”

“Huh. Another planet.” You kicked by the oncoming existential crisis in hopes of more answers. “Right… so, if you’re from space, why are you here?” His face suddenly shifted from curiosity to a grim look of remembrance.

“There is a war on my planet. Me and my team have ended up here on accident, I’m afraid.”

“Oh… well, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I have no intention of staying here longer than we have to, doing so could endanger this entire planet.”

“Wait, what? The- all- the whole planet?”

“Yes,” He responded in a low, distant voice. “Our enemies, unlike us, would not hesitate to destroy any planet if it meant winning the war.” You started at him in shock. In an attempt to avoid further panic, you decided to take a different route on questioning.

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“The Autobots, my friends.”

“So you’re saying… you’re leading your side of the war? Like a general?”

“Yes, to put it simply.”

“Wow… this is… a lot. How are you going to find your friends?”

“I… do not know. I was attempting to contact them before I noticed you.“

“Oh…”

“Do not worry. If the Deceptions attack this planet, we will protect it with our very sparks. A young species such as yourselves do not deserve to be punished for our mistakes.” Your expression softened. As this metal titan spoke to you, in gentle, deep tones, you felt strangely at peace. You felt silly for ever being afraid of him, like you’d known this alien for ages. He didn’t even know you, yet he was willing to risk his life for your home.

“…Thank you.”

“Do not thank me now, young human, I have yet to get your people out of harms way.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going to be okay?” Optimus’s eyes widened for just a second before his face broke into a warm smile.

“…I will be just fine.”

“Well, if it’s my planet at stake… I want to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yeah. I know more about this planet than you do, so I can show you how things work around here. It’s the least I can do.”

“That is very kind of you, you have my thanks.”

“Well, first I have to get home and sleep- my house isn’t too far from here, and I live alone so you don’t have to worry about anyone else freaking out. Not many people live around here.”

“That is good. I… apologies if I am too bold, is it okay if I carry you back to your home? It would be in our best interest to get to your home as fast as possible.”

“Ah, true. Well, I guess so.” He laid out his hand. It took you a second to climb on a stabilize yourself, nodding when you were ready for him to move. And he did, and you guided him all the way home. You hardly even noticed the junkyard and forgotten scrap metal you’d spent the night collecting.

You’d made pretty good time all things considered. The lightheadedness and constant nausea were a mere annoyance now. You were going to find where that noise came from and you were going to get help and you were going to survive this. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Trying to get places with a broken leg and a dwindling supply of adrenaline was not your best idea. To be fair, neither was agreeing to go on a hike alone in an unfamiliar forest. For hours you clawed your way through the leaf padded forest floor (thank god for autumn), but as the sun began to set a familiar sense of dread crept into your psyche.

You could die here.

Keyword: Could. You’re too stubborn to sit in place and wait for a rescue or call for help in dense, unpopulated woods. Bursts of perseverance refused to let you lay down. Not long after your thirteenth short spout of energy, you began to regret your bullheaded pursuit. Not because you were tired or losing hope, but because you may have just found what you were looking for. And it was fucking huge. At least that’s what you could tell from the earth splitting footsteps and overarching shadow beginning to cast itself over you.

The thing towered above your already crumpled body. It didn’t even seem to notice you at first… until you involuntarily screamed very, very loudly. Then it looked directly at you. Shit.

Bright blue lights beamed down at you like the sun through a stained glass window. Not like a beautiful sunset, of course not, it was like the kind of light that blinded you and only you when you went to sit down. Its eyes alone pinned you in place, but once you regained your vision its face came into view. A realization came to mind, it was decidedly not a giant. That would be too easy. It was a giant ROBOT. Because normal mystical creatures were apparently too last century so you were stuck with this. And all that adrenaline you had so badly needed earlier came flooding back.

First, you screamed again. Then, in your frenzy, you tired to run away, immediately remembering why you hadn’t done so before. You kept trying though, and you kept failing. Its hand, which was bigger than your entire body, began to descend down on you. Before it could get halfway though, a very helpful bought of more screaming and one-legged kicking seemed to deter it. Good news! You weren’t dead. Bad news! It was making awful metal grinding noises now.

You could feel your heart pick up in speed and your breathing quicken to dangerous levels. Attempting to back away again you noticed its face scrunch up into a weird shape which was not what you expected for something made out of metal.

Inside you something snapped when it reached out again. Some primal fear ignited by pain and panic. More screaming lurched its way out of you, this time with an animalistic undertone you didn’t even know was possible. You tried to claw and fight against its fingers as they eased their way under your back, but they were too strong. Or you were too weak. Either way, the thing was lifting you up, images of kids with dolls flashed in your mind as you got closer to its face. You felt scrutinized, but it didn’t last long as another hand was placed on top of the one you laid on, sealing your fate in darkness.

Well, at least if you survive you’ll have one hell of a story to tell. Unfortunately that didn’t seem very likely, because you felt gravity abandon you as the thing walked away.

——————————

Ratchet felt horrible about the way it struggled and cried, but there wasn’t much he could do for comfort. He just needed to get back to the pod, maybe he could find some sort of anti-bacterial spray or something to seal the wounds, maybe a splint for that limb. Pit, he’d even just take some fresh water to clean it up.

Thing is he didn’t know much about treating organics, especially not ones he was unfamiliar with. In this case “unfamiliar” was putting it lightly. Eventually he stumbled back upon the pod, immediately looking around for something to help. There didn’t seem to be anything of much use, not if these things couldn’t withstand intense welding, and he highly doubted they could.

Quickly he looked back at his scans. There was some sort of water source nearby, if he could purify it maybe he could at least wash out its injuries. With no other option he strode off toward a small creek. He took a medical blowtorch with him to kill off any harmful bacteria that might be in the water.

Once there he got to work. Well, he would have if he had the hands for it. Very carefully he set the thing down on the ground, creating a quick storage container out of scrap from the ship and his blowtorch. Soon after the water was boiling, and he was ready.

The thing, in fact, was not ready. As evident by the painted screams it let out when he tried to wash out the wounds. He would just ignore this as more struggling, but its skin turned a shade of pink where the water had touched it.

Of course, the heat! This thing didn’t have the metal to protect its squishy body, he was burning it! Luckily he hadn’t done much, only a drop of the water really. Ratchet got to cooling the liquid off immediately, but when he went back to check on the thing its little optics were closed and it wasn’t moving. Frag, frag, frag. He did a scan of its body- and to his intense relief it was only unconscious. He had a lot to learn about this species, but for now he’d have to focus on making sure this one didn’t offline.

Some time later it looked a bit better- at least with all that grime off. He didn’t remove the coverings it wore, for all he knew that could offline it. Though, he did scan the things skeletal structure. It was… strange, and honestly quite impractical. Its denta showed it was most likely an omnivore, which would be helpful in getting it refueled later. The back molars were flat yet it still had sharp incisors, Wheeljack would be enamored. But Wheeljack wasn’t here, he remembered, and neither was anyone else he had ever known.

His spark dropped, but was subsequently interrupted by the things stirring. Its optics opened in a dazed confusion, at least that’s what he assumed anyway. Scrap, he hadn’t had the time to make a splint! When it fully woke up it seemed awfully aware of that fact, again attempting to move away but falling back all the same. He realized words weren’t going to help, so maybe actions would.

Ratchet knelt down lower to make himself look smaller- a behavior he’d observed in other wild creatures. He was a bit disappointed by the lack of a positive reaction but soon caught it glancing at his servos. It must not want to be grabbed again, and he couldn’t blame the thing for it. He only raised his servos up slowly with open palms, and placed them behind his back. This seemed to get a reaction, as it stopped trying to back away. Instead it tilted its helm and finally tore its optics off him.

After the initial heart attack that was the last 48 hours or so, you began to feel more comfortable with this giant alien. He was kind, which was something you figured out after he saved your life, and he assured you he wasn’t going to kill you.

Now you were cupped in his hands while he walked back to this pod of his.

“So, what’s this pod thing we’re going to? Is it like a space ship?”

“Escape pod.” Ratchet remembered the crash. Well, he remembered what he could of it. Suddenly an old worry popped into his head.

“Right, right, escape pod.”

“Your injury, it wasn’t from… the crash, was it?”

“Oh, no, I fell down a cliff. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” Ratchet stifled an ex-vent of relief. “I was on a hike but I got lost, and then I started to panic because I don’t know how to survive in the wild, and then I panicked too hard and tripped in the worst spot imaginable.”

“You went out into an unknown area with no experience on how to survive there or any contingency plan if things went wrong?” He said with a mix of worry and vague frustration.

“Well there was a path… but there was also cool flowers off the path, and then I saw a rare bird, and then the path was gone. I really don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to come out here, I should have known better. I was doing fine at home I just… I don’t know.”

“Does your kind usually do things like this?”

“No, not really. Just me.”

“I see. Are you… no offense, but are you the dominant species on this planet?”

“What? I mean, I guess, we’re the only ones that can talk and all. That we know of. Actually, it would probably be a shock to the world if they found out about you. Knowing us we’d probably start attacking or something.”

“Attack? Why would you do that?”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, but I’ve taken enough history classes to know as a whole we can be… violent. I hope no one else saw you crash, things could get nasty if they see you as a threat.”

“Thats… quite primitive.”

“Oh, gee thanks.”

“No offense.”

“Probably should have led with that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Ratchet hummed to himself for a second, and then he began to think out loud. “If they do find me at least I’ll be able to get away…”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well- I- I wouldn’t think your technology is exactly…”

“Not up to par with your superior standards? Well don’t worry about that. We have weapons that can wipe out the world in a span of hours. Every country has their hand over the big red launch button, and if they see you as too much to handle, somebody is going to get blown up.”

“What? That’s- that’s crazy! You mean to say your leaders would sacrifice… how ever many there are of you in a given area just to take me out?”

“They probably wouldn’t do straight to the nuclear option for one of you, but if there were more and they were killing people, then probably yeah. If things work like they do in the movies that is.” Ratchet paused, about to make some snide remark about the primitive violence of the human race, but he stopped when he remembered the history of his own people.

“…I’ll keep myself hidden then.”

“Oh, um, good. I wasn’t really expecting you to accept that so fast.”

“If my own history were any different I might not have.” He sank deeper into thought. “Doe, is there a medical station anywhere near here I can drop you off at?”

“Wait, I thought we were going to your pod?”

“We are, I just… I got caught up in healing you and… look, I’ll be honest, I don’t want you to get hurt. How many of you are there on this planet?”

“I- I don’t know, 7, maybe 8 billion?”

“Billio- scrap.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing. Let’s just… talk about something else.”

“Well, alright I guess.” After you said that, both you and Ratchet stayed silent for an agonizingly awkward minute. You felt the sway of him walking waft through your entire body, a feeling you haven’t even began to get used to. He seemed largely unaware of this, at least to your knowledge, and instead looked forward with a serious expression.

“How about we talk about… the weather. It certainly is sunny today! And there are… uh, a couple clouds… wait, no that’s just a weird tree.”

“You aren’t great at small talk.”

“How about you try then?”

“…no.”

“Oh I see how it is. Fine, you’ll just have to deal with my terrible communication skills.” You took a deep breath, preparing to go on a rant about whatever was on your mind.

“Oh please don’t.”

“Unless you’re going to say something I will.”

“Alright, alright. What do you want me to talk about?”

“That’s up to you, conversation expert.” You smiled smugly up at him. He huffed in return.

For the next five minutes he talked about his life up to this point. His friends, his enemies, glossing over assumedly painful details. In your mind a picture started to form about all of this. He wasn’t just an alien, he was a person. A person with real relationships, real love and loss, real war, real family. You felt silly having not seen it before.

A friend. You’d like to think that’s what you were now, though it was tough to tell based on the way he acted. You wondered who all of his other friends could be, where they were, and you even went as far as to silently wish them well.