11th Transmission -- Commentlog

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Oh yes, by now he knew exactly how to get the pumpkins to stop talking. It would have been smart of him to do so. He would probably have been saving himself a lot of trouble by doing it.]

[But he hasn't.]

[The pumpkins are still whispering and whining. He'd smashed several of them -- Decepticon faces all, and that had felt good. By now... he's tracked on to one in particular. Only centuries of long association have allowed him to tune the words out, listening to the voice. If he shutters his optics, he can pretend he's being lectured, or being made to listen to some science babble or other.]

[His head is bowed, and one of his hands is resting lightly on the pumpkin in question.]

[He can't bring himself to break this one -- not when it has the voice he's been missing for months now. He'd never expected separation to be this difficult.]

[Ironhide can be found solemnly regarding the Ratchet-pumpkin in the early morning hours of the Keep.]

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He looks up only to determine who it is approaching. When he spies Xanth, he seems to relax, his attention dropping back down to the pumpkin before him.]

... You get used to hearing someone for so many centuries... hard to remember what it was like before they started nagging you.

[snowtop]

Y...Yeah.

[In all honesty, Xanth expected Ratchet to be here by now. Granted, no one else from the Elegante has appeared, but... he hoped.]

K-Kind of like it's... a-a-- a part of you, n-now.

[Xanth misses so many people. He misses those gone, and those who are here, but don't remember.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Xanth isn't the only one who hoped that the medic would be here. The absence just gets more and more pronounced as time goes on.]

A part that has been... damaged. With no repair.

[He actually touches the pumpkin as he says that.]

[snowtop]

[For that, Xanth has no reply.

Xanth stares at the pumpkin. It's a perfect likeness of Ratchet, just as the other pumpkins had been perfect likenesses of anyone else.]

Wh-what's... what's he-- s-saying?

[heavyweaponsbot]

Hmn.

[What is he supposed to say to that? Does... he tell the boy exactly what it is this thing is saying? -- That he should be there, with the others, that said he would always return, that they were partners, whether or not Ironhide wanted to run from it... There is so much accusation in that familiar voice, that it hurts just to hear it.]

[He trails a scarred finger over the image.]

Scolding me... for leaving.

[snowtop]

[Xanth tilts his head to the side, staring at the pumpkin.]

B-But... you... y-you didn't. N-- None of us did. W-We got... we got t--taken.

[But what would an enchanted pumpkin care about truth?]

[heavyweaponsbot]

That... is not what it feels like.

[It would probably be easier to ignore the enchanted pumpkin if he didn't already sort of believe what it was saying.]

[His choice or not, he left the others. Left Ratchet.]

Taken, yeah. But... we are still not where we need to be.

[snowtop]

... yeah.

[Xanth sighs. They should be back at the Shore, helping build shelter or gather food or doing something to help recover.

Or even protect those who couldn't protect themselves from those who would take advantage. There were dangerous people among them.]

There's-- th-there's gotta be something w-we can do...

[heavyweaponsbot]

If you can think of something, boy, I... am listening.

[There's not much he can think of. Just more searching. Looking for this "lord". Something.]

My specialty is hitting things until they stop moving. Not... intrigue.

[snowtop]

[There's not much Xanth can think of, either. It couldn't be as easy as searching the library - they'd have to go deep into the Keep. But who's to say there is even anything there? Redd kept his secrets well, and he was a madman. Deior, however, seems sane.

But the question is, does that make his secrets any easier to uncover?

Xanth sighs and rubs his eyes.]

I'm-- I-I'm not-- g-giving up. We'll... f-figure something o--out.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[His fingers trace over the surface of the pumpkin. Over the lines and contours he knows so well. The voice that was supposed to be so full of fondness, even while lecturing him, rolls through his audios. It's wrong... to have his medic mocked like this.]

[He can't give up. If the boy isn't giving up, how can he do any less?]

[His voice is hoarse, almost.]

Miss... I miss him.

[An admission he would not give to just anyone. Or maybe one he wouldn't give at all.]

We have to do something.

[snowtop]

[Xanth looks at Ironhide just out the corner of his eye, and then he reaches up to set a hand on Ironhide's arm. It's not much, but it's all he can do.]

There's-- th-there's something, I-I-- I know there is, th-there... has to be.

[He's just not sure what, yet.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[When Xanth says nothing to his admission, just puts his hand on black metal, he relaxes a little. No pretty words, no empty placating. Just a touch. It's what's right.]

Then we cannot give up.

[Neither is he. He's never known... but now it feels worse somehow.]