Losing Momentum
Fanfic by Jixie (written 10/2009)
Transfomers Animated © Hasboro
In truth it took only a scattering of seconds.
What would have been a few terrifying moments to any Cybertronian, were a hundred stellar cycles to Blurr.
There was the sound of metal buckling and bending. At first, he'd tried to run. He'd escaped far worse before by simply out-racing danger. When that failed, he'd tried to force the enclosing walls apart, using some imagined strength. They were more powerful by far. Blurr was built for flight, not fight— but not even Ultra Magnus himself would have been able to use brute force to stop those walls.
stop
The plating of his external shell bowed inward, folding into itself. There was a sharp crunch as the circuitry boards underneath were crushed. He's tried to transform, to reform himself into something smaller, as if it would help.
Nothing would help. No one would help. No one even knew he was on Cybertron, save the traitorous bastard who—
stop
His optics went with the pop of glass. He could still hear, though, every creak and groan of twisting metal.
He'd run across the galaxy. And now— trapped. Stuck, motionless, slowly crushed alive as the walls came in tighter and tighter.
Indescribable, this sickening knowledge of hopelessness. Even if someone was to find and rescue him now, he was irreparably damaged. There was nothing left but to wait for the end.
and
it
was
taking
forever
Then after several more long seconds— nanoclicks, he'd been on Earth too long— the internal power supply was ruptured. There was a fraction of a moment of agony and abruptly, nothing.
In an indeterminate time later, there was the existence of something that had once been the Autobot Blurr.
It was, in essence, a recovered spark within a blank protoform. When they would try to bring it online, it was blank as any new form, and Wheeljack would go back to work.
"Welcome back."
There was, instantly, recognition without knowing. It was the Autobot Wheeljack.
"Do you remember how you got here?"
He shook his head 'no'. There wasn't much left for him to remember.
Wheeljack walked around him. They were in the infirmary. No, a protoform chamber.
"You were compressed into a little cube about this size." He held his hands out and gestured. "By some miracle your spark survived, which set off the safety sequence in the incinerators. There was nothing recognizable left, so it took us a couple cycles to find you."
"Thank you." It was flat and insincere, but Wheeljack didn't seem offended.
"Sorry, it was a while before we could really work on putting you back together. The war's made it difficult to really have the time for major rebuilds."
They were at war again? "How bad is it?"
Wheeljack shuddered, ever so slightly.
"It's over now." Then, changing the topic, "Most of the boards and drives weren't salvageable, which is why your memory's spotty." He paused. "Now, wait here."
With that he headed out of the room. The bot, who had once been Blurr, carefully looked around.
He knew this place, what it was for, how it looked. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been here.
Compacted? How gruesome. It made the emptiness of his mind almost a relief. Almost.
Wheeljack returned with another bot, who was simultaneously casual and intimidating. Autobot Jazz. Once again, he was aware of who this was without knowing who he was.
"What's happenin', brah?" He wore the joyful expression of someone who'd just discovered their old war buddy had returned from the dead.
How could he tell him the truth? How could he explain?
Blurr was speed itself. From his aerodynamic build to his overclocked processor to his dynamic character, he was the very personification of 'fast'.
This new bot, with the recovered spark and carefully salvaged, marginally-average body, had only the vaguest perception of what true speed was. It was a specter, a half-forgotten life shuffling aimlessly along. Blurr was long dead.
He forced a smile. "It's good to be back, Jazz."