Welcome one and all to Forgotten. I hope you'll all enjoy the wonderful ride I'm about to go on with our dear miners and single Vehicon.
First off, thank you for clicking the read button. I hope that you'll stick with me.
Second, thank you BlueInked for being the inspiring push and an amazing friend!
And last, this story starts two years before Transformers Prime begins. Thank you again.
Pain was a constant.
It flowed through everything within him. It reminded him that he was alive. There had been a time where there had not been the pain, the heat, and the dark. He had tried to remember those times and the pain had faded, a light had appeared far off, and then heat had started to leave him. Desperately, he grasped the pain again. The heat had returned. The light left.
Pain was a constant.
It gave him a thousand sensations, awoke things within him that he had never known about. His life had passed through his optics time and time again. He remembered everything and felt, at first, despair. With the despair, the pain faded, the light came, the heat left. Despair was discarded, but he did not allow himself to hope either. Hope was for fools. He arrived at a middle ground.
Pain was a constant.
The more he clung to pain, the more tired he became. Staying alive in his state was quite costly. It was also difficult. There was little to do, for his optical sensors were completely crushed by something and his audio receptors were shot but repairable. He couldn't even move, not because of the pain, but because his body had been torn apart.
Pain was a constant.
It told him that he was alive.
And he would survive; as long as pain was a constant.
He didn't know what to expect when he woke up. He didn't know anything. But he knew that most of his body was aching.
It sounded far off and in the distance, but there was someone speaking. Whether it was to him or to another, he couldn't tell. He didn't even know what the voice was saying.
His HUD screen was filled with error messages and reports on how long it would take to get his systems running again. His audio receptors were the closest to finished, at 97%. The optical bands would be next, at 91%. His full motor functions would be restored soon as well, at 89%.
He remained laying, trying to access his memory banks for what had caused the damage. His memory banks gave him error signals, claiming that files had been corrupted and were undergoing recovery. However, the recovery was at 0%. He could still store new memories and review them as they would not be corrupted.
There was a ping in his systems as his audio receptors were restored to full functionality. He turned them up slowly, listening to the voices around him.
"He looks like he's in good shape. That makes four."
"Four? Who are you not counting?"
"Despite being up and about, you're missing a whole arm. I'll need to find something to replace that with."
"Not right now, help me access his medical system."
He was aware of something moving him, pushing his head to the side so as to access his neck. He panicked and lashed out, arms flinging, and exclamations of surprise could be heard from the two others. His optical bands reactivated, and he stared at the two before him.
The one on the right was standing slightly, hunched over and looking ready to spring away. He couldn't make out many details in the dark lighting, but he could see that he had a single optical band working, and one above it flickering. His silhouette showed signs of dents and sharp edges, and there were purple glowing highlights below his chest.
The one to his left was sitting on his aft, cradling his head in a hand. Guilt seized him, and he came to the realization that the damage had probably been caused when he had flailed. The mech was the same model as his companion, with similar damage to his frame, except for one major difference: The mech did not have a left arm.
Another ping sounded in his processor letting him know that his motor systems had been restored, followed closely by a second one, telling him that his vocalizer was also ready for use.
"Sorry," he murmured, testing out his new vocalizer and attempting to sit up. He quickly fell back down and received an internal report stating that his balance programs were at 76%. He hummed slightly at the news before speaking again, this time clearly. "I thought you were trying to offline me."
"Why would we do that?" The mech to his right seemed to recoil at this statement, his voice caked with obvious anger and disgust that made him flinch for his excuse. At the same time, the mech with one arm nodded. The left mech's acceptance did nothing to make him feel better. His processor began to try and find an answer to the right mech's question. Why would they attempt to offline him? They were obviously trying to help him. There was no good answer to the right mech's question.
Slowly, the one-armed mech stood up and began to move towards him again. The right mech slowly and cautiously followed his associates lead.
"How are you feeling?" The one-armed mech asked, looking away from his optical band and surveying his damage. Oddly, he felt relaxed with the professional gaze. He quickly became under the impression that the mech with one arm had done such scans before.
"I'm feeling," he paused, trying to decipher his emotions, and then give them an appropriate label. "Lost?"
The one-armed mech nodded as the mech behind him shifted uneasily. The right mech looked him in the optical visor.
"Do you remember your name?" The right mech asked quietly. The look bordered on anxiety. Again, he tried to access his corrupted memory files. Nothing was extracted.
"Not yet," he told him. "Do you know who I am?"
The one-armed mech, who had been holding up his wrist for a closer look, froze. Behind him, the right mech seemed to be jumping in hysteria.
"I don't know who you are, I don't know who Patch is, I don't even know what my name is!" The right mech began to babble. "I woke up and it was dark, everything hurt though not that badly, and I saw Patch a few feet away, bleeding everywhere, trying to hold his energon tubes closed. I thought he was going to die! Then he looks at me and says that I'm wounded. He tries to make his way to me to fix me when he should be worrying about the fact that, oh, I don't know, he's missing a whole arm!"
He sighed at the right mech's rambling and turned to the one-armed mech. "So your name is Patch?"
The one-armed mech shrugged which was a disturbing sight to him. "That's what Brain has been calling me, because I've been patching up everyone we've come across."
"Oh," he whispered, turning back to the right mech called Brain as he had begun to whine down. "Why do you call him Brain?"
Patch chuckled, a nice sound to his audio receptors. "Because the mech can think. We came across this mech back in that tunnel," Patch jerked his head to the left, and when he turned to look in the direction, he could see the silhouette of another tunnel, "poor mech was burned to a crisp, Brain was the one who figured out how to turn remove his armour sensors and how to reattach his touch relays. Mech's resting at the moment in the main cavern. That's where we'll be going, when you feel up to moving."
As Patch said this, his processor pinged again, telling him he could move without stumbling. Slowly he stood again. Then he took a step forward. Patch and Brain, still slightly crouched over, shuffled back a bit before straightening their full height. They were both close to the same size, though he was the tallest by a small degree.
"I can move," he announced to Patch and Brain, "Show me where this cavern is."
Brain gave a high pitched chuckled that bordered on a short, "As you wish, my Liege."
Brain led the way, followed by Patch, and he came shortly after.
His memory recovery still read 0%.
See everyone in the next chapter. Cheers! :D