Rules of Disengagement
As the silence stretches on, Pipes just sits there, blinking in the dimness of his room. Scrapper continues to say nothing, and the little mech closes his eyes. He doesn’t know exactly what the lingering pause is meant to signify, but following his words as it did, he draws one conclusion, and that is that perhaps Scrapper does regret having met him.
He knows there’s no logical basis for such a presumption other than this lingering, awkward silence, but his thoughts run away with him. Ever since meeting Scrapper, being charmed by him, Pipes has tried to help him, but it seems that all he ever did, in the end, was cause the other mech distress. It’s a rather cruel mimicry of Pipes’s luck with the universe at large. It seems that no matter what he sets out to do, he doomed to fail.
Even in this.
Finally, Scrapper speaks, and Pipes nods slowly, not opening his eyes, merely concentrating on the memory of the other’s gravelly voice. “Me, too,” he responds quietly. He doesn’t know what else to say. Is there anything he can say? His mind feels full-up with a bitter, burgeoning sadness that leaves no room for thoughts, other than one: prolonging this will just be more painful for both of them.
It’s better, then, to do his friend this one last mercy. “Goodbye, Scrapper,” he says simply. He then falls silent, letting the other mech cut the comm line when he will.
-Scrapper took a deep vent and held it for a moment before exhaling.-
Goodbye Pipes….take care of yourself.
-He cut the comm and slumped forward, feeling weak and drained. So that was it? He’d never speak to Pipes again? The finality of it was suffocating. How could he have grown so attached to someone he’d never even met in person? In another universe? And an Autobot? In retrospect it all seemed rather ridiculous.
But logic couldn’t touch the painful ache in his spark. He felt lonelier now than he had even before, waking up alone without the rest of his team and most of the army missing.
After a moment of dithering about what to do next, he decided to go for a drive. Surprisingly, he wasn’t in the mood to get overcharged, so he calmly exited the room and made his way to the conning tower to exit the base.
Soundwave was usually in charge of authorizing the raising of the tower, but right now he didn’t know if Soundwave was around, nor did he care. Consequences rested in the realm of some nebulous future state that felt intangible at best.
He felt like something was missing, a nagging feeling that he pushed aside. He wasn’t in the mood for introspection.
subvertedarchitect started following you
Oh of course. Naturally I disable their pain sensors, I’m an artist, not a sadist. I’m always careful to install power and fuel cells as well. Would be quite a waste for them to simply offline from starvation after a short time.
Ah like ya. Ah like ya a lot. Ah wanna watch ya work on them. Or anythin really that’ll feel someth– Oh~ Have ya tried humans?
Ah, perhaps sometime if the multiverse is permitting. It could be quite an…educational experience.
Humans? Oh of course.
Alas the Autobots here get rather protective of the flesh creatures. Preserving them has some unique challenges, but they’re rather fragile. Cybertronians are far more satisfying specimens; it isn’t necessary to kill them to make something worthwhile out of them.
Rules of Disengagement
When he hears those words leaving Scrapper’s mouth (you’re wonderful), oh, that felt incredibly good and unimaginably painful, all at once. Part of Pipes wanted to say, You’re wonderful, too, I really think that, but he’s paralyzed, unable to speak, and he knows that saying that would only make what had to come along afterwards harder.
Scrapper’s right. He knows that Scrapper’s right. From the very beginning, Pipes had known that this wasn’t the best idea (he doesn’t think of it as a mistake, refuses to, in fact). Ever since this bizarre phenomena started, his world has been chaotic, even moreso than before. It feels like everything’s changed, and many things have… but some thing’s won’t change. Some things can’t.
Scrapper doesn’t even have the freedom to think what he wants. What made Pipes assume that anything could come from… from what they started? The simple answer was that he hadn’t been thinking. “I understand.” He’s surprised to find he feels ashamed of himself, not for getting involved in the first place, but for letting things progress to the point where Scrapper is faced with the burden of cutting things off. Pipes had kindled this friendship with the intention of easing Scrapper’s pain, but he’d caused him more.
Could he even call what he felt for Scrapper friendship? Yes, but if he’s honest with himself, truly honest, he knows it’s something more, to him at least. “I’m sorry, Scrapper. I’m so sorry that you had to… that I didn’t…” He fumbles, unsure what to say. Pipes, normally so loquacious, is obviously still floored by the unexpected direction their conversation has taken. He goes silent for a few moments.
“But I’m not sorry,” he finishes quietly, “that I met you.”
-As the conversation progressed, so did a swelling feeling that he’d made a terrible mistake. He wasn’t sure if he regretted meeting Pipes, or regretted that it had to end.
This should never have happened in the first place, but he had to deal with the consequences now that it had.
It had been hundreds of years since he’d allowed himself to become emotionally entangled with another mech.
It could have been worse, he tried to console himself. Unlike last time, at least they were both still alive.
Since then he’d cultivated a disinterest in the trappings of romance, not wanting to repeat the same mistakes. Without his team to supervise, he’d been given time to socialise; feeling lonely, he’d let his defenses slip. And Pipes was an incredibly disarming mech. He was so sincere and straightforward, even now Scrapper couldn’t bring himself to lie to him.
He even suspected the little Autobot truck would have even been liked by the rest of the Constructicons.
Time passed and the awkward pause stretched into a heavy silence. Lost for words, he just stared at his hands. He briefly entertained the thought of ejecting himself out the airlock of the ship as a melodramatic solution to his inability to find the right thing to say.
With the amount of emotional torment he now felt, he could no longer deny to himself how much Pipes had meant to him.-
I wish it didn’t have to be this way.
-Did it though? Doubting himself just made the feelings of pressure and pain come back. He made a note to swallow half their stock of recharge-inducing sedatives as soon as this call was done. Maybe he’d feel less strange when he woke up.-
Rules of Disengagement
Pipes is silent for a few moments. The little mech is quietly stunned, and just stares straight ahead, wondering if he’s heard Scrapper correctly. It had been so abrupt, so jarring. In ten words, the other mech had ended something that had been slowly growing and developing over the course of months.
Just ten words… “Oh.”
Pipes realizes he’s been sitting there, like an idiot, with his mouth open. He shuts it with a click. “I… oh.”
He isn’t sure what brought this on, and that’s part of the reason why it hurts so much. Has Scrapper been thinking about this on his own? How long has he been preparing to shut Pipes out? “I… um, well. I understand, Scrapper. I really do.” His tone is shaky. He’s still obviously trying to wrap his mind around the suddenness of this all. There’s a little voice at the back of his head telling him to get a hold of himself, that this can’t be easy for Scrapper—but another voice is telling him that it sure doesn’t seem hard for the Constructicon.
Pipes ignores them both. He needs to gather his wits and proceed gracefully, for both their sake. Instead of saying something insightful, however, he just hears his own voice quietly speaking, “Have I… have I done something wrong, Scrapper?”
-Up until that point he’d felt distracted; as if this conversation was happening to someone else, almost as if following a meaningless script. For some unknown reason he couldn’t bring himself to stop; the compulsion to follow it was too strong.
But when Pipes asked if he’d done something wrong, it hurt. A lot.
Everything felt clearer now, like being woken up too abruptly from recharge. With it came a lingering sense of doubt and guilt, cemented by how defeated Pipes sounded. Despite his reservations he couldn’t stop now though; Decepticon coding whispering that it was too late to turn back.
He tried to rationalize it to himself; it was for the best. Spending time with a Decepticon would hurt Pipes reputation, or worse. If anyone found out about it, it could be exploited. It had to be this way.-
Of course not Pipes….you’re…you’re wonderful.
But this isn’t going to work.
-His voice sounded strained. He wanted this conversation to be over as quickly as possible. Ordinarily a social creature, right now he wanted to be alone more than anything else.-
Rules of Disengagement
Pipes hesitates. He’s never heard Scrapper quite like this, and he isn’t sure how he should approach the situation. His original intentions regarding contacting Scrapper are pushed aside. Despite being physically and emotionally drained, the small mech dredges up whatever energy he has left in an attempt to try and soothe away whatever is troubling his friend.
“Yeah, I hear you about the space travel bit. It’s still kind of new to me, but without some sort of schedule time just… slips by.” He rubs the back of his neck, working his fingers against the cabling that’s usually tucked away by his hood. “With everything getting all crazy here, there isn’t much of a schedule anymore. You kind of have to make you own, I guess.”
His tone is still hesitant, but not at all cold. Pipes is talking to Scrapper with the same casual affection he’d show any of his friends.
-Everything that had been going on…Scrapper was unclear on what had been happening to Pipes lately, but he’d wager it had something to do with Decepticons.
He was a Decepticon, too. And still Pipes found time to talk to him? He didn’t understand. Compassion was something he saw so rarely he’d forgotten how to recognize it; especially not from Autobots.
He vented a deep sigh and rubbed at the side of his helm wearily. The reminder of what Pipes had been through was sobering; extinguishing his anger.
If the Lost Light and/or Pipes were experiencing troubles, talking to him should be the last thing on his mind.-
We shouldn’t even be having this conversation right now.
-After a too long pause as if he hadn’t really heard what Pipes had just said, he opened his mouth to say ‘affection is a sign of weakness’ but stopped himself, mumbling something dismissive instead. Admitting what he felt for Pipes would have been an embarrassing faux pas.
They were in the middle of a war, and evidently that flame had also been rekindled in Pipes universe. If the war was still active, then any kind of relationship between them was simply unacceptable.
The solution seemed clear, like a shining beacon slicing through the odd, thick haze in his mind.-
I don’t think we should talk to each other anymore.
subvertedarchitect started following you
“Well, it’s not right to judge others if I don’t know them. Although most Decepticons from my universe have committed serious offenses and I dislike them because of it, I do not know what you have done. That is why I cannot judge you yet. I have no reason to.” He sighed. He had never let anyone know this before, and others might find it odd, but he had never judged anyone that way.
-He snorted through his intakes.-
I’ll have to keep my resume to myself then. Most Autobots tend to find it…disagreeable.
But war brings out the worst in people, I suppose.
I would say that I miss the Halcyon days of pre-war peace, but that’s a terrible trap to fall into.
Rules of Disengagement
Pipes hesitates uncertainly, frowning slightly under his mask. Part of him wonders whether or not this is a bad time, and part of him wonders if something has happened to Scrapper. It’s a bit absurd for him to feel protective of a Decepticon from another dimension, but if Motormaster is making trouble for him… well, he’s sure Scrapper will tell him.
“Okay,” he replies, shifting a bit on the floor and tilting his head. “If this is a bad time, Scrapper, I can call back later. Unless you want to talk about it?” He adds, his voice’s pitch rising uncertainly. He’s evidently concerned, but quite timid about it all. He’s never heard Scrapper sounding so annoyed.
I spend all my time under the ocean. It’s like space travel. Time becomes just a meaningless number without a solar system to give a point of reference.
-…Or anyone else to talk to, or any kind of stable routine. He thought to himself but didn’t say out loud.
He ground his dental plates together. Why did Pipes have to be so compassionate? It was so…Autobot-like. So unlike anything he was used to among his fellow Decepticons and their power-based hierarchy. Something about the uncertainty in Pipes voice annoyed him even more. Such an open display of vulnerability. He felt a growing pressure in his processor, much like a headache but without the pain.-
His stiff wings twitched slightly at the mention of their former leader and just offers a smirk in return.
“Unfortunately our ‘lord’ has disappeared eons ago once we all fell into the deep slumber at the bottom of the ocean. Noone knows where he is just like we failed to find most of our Decepticon brothers.” He sighed deeply, almost a bit too dramatically. “Probably they are locked in their emergency stasis, slowly rusting to death. What a pity.”
Starscream shrugged. Even if he wanted he couldn’t do much with such limited resources right now, of course he hoped that it’ll change soon (but still locating Megatron wasn’t anywhere near the top on his list).
“Of course,” He turned to Scrapper again, noticing his doubtful look. “we did what we could, but as you can probably see we are not exactly in the most advanced human era, hence the problems with locating each other.”
Hmm. And here I thought the humans of this dimension were rather unrefined. I would hazard a guess from your appearance that they haven’t even discovered nuclear power yet?
And I wouldn’t count on it. Mechs can last quite a long time in emergency stasis.
What’s the status of the conflict in your realm? Any Autobots, or Decepticon comrades to rally?
-Scrapper shrugged, not making any assumptions about Ripclaw’s intelligence just yet. One could expect a similar reaction from Ravage if he was feeling aloof. Underestimating the Jaguar-cassette was a grave mistake.-
Very well. If you need anything, you have my frequency.
Tracks. Has anybody stepped on that juvenile fleshling you’re so attached to yet?
Don’t tell me you’re another one of those ‘warriors for Primus’ like Sunstorm.
April Fool’s Day
roflcopterbot submitted:
“I found something important you’ll have to click in order to see.”
If this is a ham-fisted attempt at sending me a virus, you’ll have to do better than that.
subvertedarchitect started following you
Oh I assure you if I was feeling creative I could do much more with their bodies than something as mundane as a target.
Although I have a penchant for furniture, it depends on the mech in question. Perhaps something functional, like a turret, or decorative, like a statue.
J likes yo tastes.[He sounds intrigued and hopeful, in a twisted sense.] They still be alive an’ aware when ya take’em apart?
Oh of course. Naturally I disable their pain sensors, I’m an artist, not a sadist. I’m always careful to install power and fuel cells as well. Would be quite a waste for them to simply offline from starvation after a short time.
