Chapter 2: 'Ant' that the Truth
Fixit rolled off into a quieter part of the junkyard, near some of the stasis pods. He didn't want any of the other bots to see his distress. His optics just couldn't calibrate right, so they were blinking at random intervals making his dizzy. His vents were also panting like systems were failing to boot up correctly. The problem was … he didn't even recognize half these systems.
Moaning in distress, he immediately collapsed onto an old bucket car seat and started whining in agony as he took his helm into his servos.
His helm was killing him. He almost wanted to cry with how horrible the constant ache had become. He knew he should tell someone, anyone, but he also knew exactly what was wrong.
Last week he had had a breakdown and had confessed some pent up agonies to Russel and Denny. With each revealed truth a thousand agonies came pouring forward. So many memories. So many thoughts had bobbed to the surface of his mind like driftwood rising from the bottom, a sunken ship slowly being revealed piece by piece. He wanted to hyperventilate with each corrupt memory file that presented itself to him, especially if Bumblebee ever found out about … what he had done.
'symPathiZEr.'
Fixit shook his helm, whining as he tried to keep the memory at bay, to dislodge its hold on him.
"No, no, no!" whined the small mech. "I don't want to remember. I d-d-don't want to!"
The memories came nonetheless like a rising tide inland, flooding everything with its deep dark waters. Thus, Fixit was swept under.
...
'He dIdn't knOw why … but there weRe no other mInibots on this ship. Part of hiS Mind whispered ThAt there had been. Had been. Had beEn? When he weNt to question where they had Went … he woUldn't want to rEmeMber. Instead, he would leaVe the command deck, the only sound beSides his own turning tires waS the dulled ruMbLe of the star ship's Engine floors and floors bElOw. It was like a juGGernAut was groWling up At him … saying he didn't belONg.
He wandEred the half lit halls regArdleSs.
He didn't KnOw why he dId this. Why he roamed thE halls. He wouLd stop at ranDom stasis chambErs and pull up the Data file for the mech inSide. Over time, he leArned all of theIr names. Every sinGle oNe. He diDn't care any more For one of the othEr. The mech … mechS … he had been loOking for weren't on this sHip. At least he didN't think so.
He coulDn't remember who he had been looking for.
Why Was he looking fOr anyone to begin with?
His optiCs would then glitch aNd he wOuld find himSelf in a completely different hallway, a groon of time missing. He would tHen sigh … hating his glitCh and brokenness. But At lEast it waSn't all bad. It wasn'T all bad he had to tell himself in thE dim And quiet. He had Plenty of mechs to talk to. Lots of … friends.
Reading theiR files, their caSe reports, he Felt he knew them. He felt that He Had just had A conversation with them.
And slowly … ever so slowly he gOt the urge to open the containment units and speak tO them. To ask abOut THe mechs he waS looking for. To hear a voice, just a siNgle oNe to chAse awaY the slowly growing maw in his spArk, the acHe that alwaYs seemed to be there … but he didn't Dare. There was Something moRe important to do. he kneW he was suPposed to do something moRe than Guard these frOzen statues.
But wHat?
Since hE couldn't reCall. He would tell thE frozen spaRks about his day. The systeMs he fixed, the interestiNg files he had rEad, the coLor of the star they had paSsed and anything else he cOuld think oF. It didn't help with the Gaping hole in his spark tHough. It didn't seTtle The glitch … the whisPer in the back of His helm just told hiM again to search and to tEll his friEnds wHat neededto be said.'
…
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Fixit twitched, slowly coming online … to something pocking on his helm. He batted it away, thinking it was Russel poking him online again. He didn't know why the human did that, but apparently he did it to everyone. Denny said he would grow out of … someday... and then the man would tiredly poor himself another coffee.
Despite himself, Fixit was slowly growing used to the smell of coffee and found he liked the rich, poignant scent. It was grounding and consistent each and every morning. His mind could always count on the smell to drag him back.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Fixit moaned and waved his servo in front of his face as if trying to shoo away a fly. His optics weren't even fully online yet and his helm was already killing him. Couldn't they give him a few more kliks to online properly?
"Mhhh, still booting up," slurred the minicon, optics blinking off and on rapidly as he tried to speed up the process. He couldn't even remember the last time he had recharged so deeply that he had to actually slowly boot-up. He couldn't even remember when he had went into recharge. All he knew was his helm ached when he tried to pull up the most recent memory files.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Vents huffing, figuring this was probably Sideswipe more than Russel taunting him, the minicon finally snapped and growled, "I said I'm booting up! G-give me a klik!"
Vocals failing him a moment later, the minicon immediately regretted his words. He was supposed to know better than to snap at his superiors. He was supposed to keep his helm down. He was supposed to be unseen … forgettable.
"Now, now little warden. Don't yah know its not nice to yell at mechs that are just tryin' to help yah out? After all, its not safe to nap out here … never know what kind of folks yah might run into," came a smooth memorable voice.
After all, how could Fixit forget that voice? He had been all but taken prisoner by him.
Optics coming completely online, the small mech slammed against … a tree? How? What? Was he in the forest? When had he gotten out here? But more concerning … why was Chop Shop here?!
Vocals whining, Fixit took in the sight of the maroon mech kneeling over him. It was as if … the mech had been assisting him moments ago. He even had a data cord in his hand as if he was about to up-link with the minicon's systems. What was trying to do? For that matter, how had the thief freed himself? All his combiners were in the stasis pod last time he checked.
Swallowing, armor clamping down as he made sure every data port was locked tight, Fixit tried to gather himself. He was terrified … though the whisper, the one that always hid on the static of his glitch, was telling him there was no reason to be afraid. None at all.
He swore the glitch was out to get him killed.
Overcoming the whisper in the back of his helm, Fixit's vocals shook with static as he tried to understand the situation. "W-what are you doing here? What am I doing here? How did you even get out again? If … I … did you bot nap me again? I am not going to be one of your limbs, so you can forget it!"
Rearing back slightly as if surprised, the maroon mech's optics seemed to brighten with understanding. He immediately sighed and grumbled something about horrible timing before he rolled up the jack in his wrist, the up-link disappearing from sight. He then looked Fixit up and down as if disappointed, vents huffing.
"Meh … bot napped yah? If that's what yah want to think little warden," said the ant combiner faking a hurt expression as he brought a hand up to his chassis. "I was merely trying to help a minicon out, liberate yah from those Autobots. We own yah one after all. For liberating us."
Fixit, slowly pushing away his near panic, got to his wheels, his vocals almost glitching, "L-liberate? I don't k-know what you are talking about. And i-if you are taking about the ship crashing … that was an accident."
Fixit's plating flared in irritation. He wasn't that bad of a pilot. It had been an accident? He … ugh. Yes, that's what the ship black box said. Regardless, he knew he should say something more, comm for help, freak out, bring his weapons online … wait. He didn't have internal weapons. No. No. He was mostly a maintenance worker. He didn't have anything like that. Why else would he need the Decepticon Hunters. Besides, only war-models had internal weapons unless a mech got upgraded for it.
He wasn't important enough for an upgrade. That's for sure. They basically left him to die on the prison ship if there was a prison break after all.
'THis is a vEry impoRtant mission: YOu mUst not fail,' came A sOft voice,a rare vOice, visor Bearing doWn on Him.'
He blinked again, nearly back pedaling into the tree with a yelp a klik later. Chop Shop was now squatting in front of him, a inch away from touching his helm. Sweet Primus! How had he gotten closer?! Had he another time lapse? No, no, no! He couldn't handle new memories right now. He had to concentrate. He had to get out of this! Primus, why hadn't he called Bumblebee yet for assistance?! It wasn't like Chop Shop had control over his systems like last time!
"Your glitching hard right now, ain't chay?" said the ant-form, frowning deeply. "Your rememberin' though, aren't cha, little warden?"
Fixit started slightly … How did, how did this mech know he had forgotten anything? Yes, Chop Shop might have been able to take over his systems, but not his memories. Those were his … and his alone.
Right?
"I-I don't bow-low-know what you are talking about!" he finally spat defensively, if only to chase away the silence of the question.
Pit. Why was he still standing here?! Why wasn't he calling Bumblebee? It was like part of him wanted to talk to this mech.
Watching Fixit's expression pinch into one of ever growing confusion, the larger mech's engine huffed in irritation, but Chop Shop smiled slightly regardless. "My little mech, you might not remember me … yet … but I remember you."
Fixit did not like how Chop Shop said that. Those words were loaded and … it was like he was talking about an entirely different minicon.
"But," added the thief, "maybe this will remind you. Now, let me ask you a question, my little mech: why haven't you ratted meh out yet? Why isn't the yellow chap and his cronies not bearin' down on me right now? Or, better yet, why didn't yah call Cybertron when the ship crashed? Even if the comms were damaged, yah are resourceful. Aren't yah? I mean, I see that yah have even started building a space bridge while I've been sleepy eyed and dead to the world. A radio is not a leap or bound compared to that, now is it little warden?"
Fixit's mouth opened and then closed again. He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't even have an excuse it seemed. Why hadn't he done anything like that?
Chop Shop, watching Fixit's armor pull close, chuckled darkly before rising to his peds. He then gibingly smiled like he knew something and wasn't about to tell.
Speaking as if speaking to a compatriot and not the opposite fraction, the maroon mech added, "Well, when you recall what's important, yah can come to me. The lads and I will be around. Can't have yah hurting yourself, now can we?"
To add to the insult, Chop Shop then tapped his helm.
Swallowing, hating himself, but not knowing what else to say, the small mech couldn't help but ask, "Wait. I … umm … H-how do you know what's going on? T-the memories, I mean. I haven't t-told anyone. And why aren't you trying to bot nap me again? Is this all some kind of trick?!"
There was a pregnant pause, a cicada howling somewhere in the woods with its lonely song. Chop Shop's optics seem to stare into Fixit's very spark though as if contemplating what to say. Then, like a bad omen, the mech spoke softly, "Well, I was plugged into yah. I saw the things that you no longer can, and like old Soundwave used to say … it always good to have some optics on the inside. But yah would know all about that, wouldn't yah?"
Without another word, the larger mech was turning away, peds light and almost soundless on the soft earth. Apparently he had said his peace and there was nothing more to be said. To Fixit, watching that larger form disappear into the growing gloom offered by the forest trees, it was as if Chop Shop was death himself and the little mech had just had a close encounter the entity fading away.
He would live another day, but be haunted all the more for it.
Fixit, not knowing what else to do, felt the first tear fall. Then another and another, coolant dripping down his face plates in frustration. This was all so … surreal. What was going on? What was happening to him? Had Chop Shop put some kind of spyware or virus into his systems when he was out. Had it always been there? What was he talking about? Better yet ... What was wrong with him?
But none of this encounter, the memory loss, the terror in his spark … nothing compared to the horror of Chop Chop's last words. They seemed to hold so much weight, so much power … and now they were starting to eat at him. Those words were eating at walls built so long ago in his mind.
He … He ... didn't want to remember.
XXX
Paw07: Yes, the title is a horrible Chop Shop joke (given his lads are ants apparently instead of spiders) and I regret nothing. Also, woo me! I figured out how I wanted to end this little beauty. Somehow it turned into a little mystery and instead of being two chapters, it is now five chapters. The outline is done so it shouldn't take too long. The end … is going to be beautiful. I can't wait.
Mmmmm, angst.
