Chapter Two
Donut, Difficulty: Surprisingly Easy
"I just want you to know I hate you," Simmons assured Grif as he dragged the soldier down the enormous hall. "I was going to attend a screening of a classic Cybertronian film tonight. Rewind was showing an alien movie. An alien movie! A historical docudrama!"
"'N you managed t'find nerds here too, huh? All the nerds," Grif slurred. "I can walk fine," he added, while continuing to lean entirely on Simmons's shoulder. "Don't need a doctor."
"Believe me, I'd love to leave your ass in the hallway, but you just puked glow-in-the-dark puke all over me, remember?" Simmons gestured to his armor, dripping with luminescent fluid. "For all I know your alien flu or whatever is contagious and now we're both going to die."
"No one's-no one's going to die. We don't die. We fight wars forever but we don't die. They don't die. They do die but not, um..." Grif paused in the middle of his drunken rant. "What was I doing jus' now?"
"You were apologizing to me for barfing on me."
"What? Naah, I wouldn't 'pologize for things." Grif laughed bitterly. "You know if we have alien flu we're-we're fucked, right?"
"Not if I have anything to do with it! God, you're heavy." Actually, Simmons didn't have much difficulty supporting Grif, thanks to cybernetics. But he wanted to make it entirely clear how put out he was at the moment. "There's a medical team. They said there was a medical team on the ship."
"FOR ROBOTS! For giant car alien robots! Am I a giant robot, Simmons? Can-can I turn into a Puma?...Cuz that would be awesome, don't get me wrong. But I'm not. I am a human, and so are you, and I bet you anything those robots have machine-fixing-thing-stuff. Like whatisitcalled, what's the word. Mechanics. Yeah," Grif said, proud of himself for remembering. "Mechanics."
"Dude, how long were you drinking at that bar?"
"Free booze, Simmonsh! You don't turn that down after Blood Gulch and its alcohol supply of NOTHING. I was there 'til they ran out and Shwerve said I should have water. Fuck that. If we were meant to drink water we'd be, we'd be, we'd be fish. I am gonna throw up again, I think."
This time Simmons stopped and let Grif go as he spilled the ominously-glowing contents of his stomach onto the wall. Only after the gross deed had been done did both realize that wasn't the wall.
That was the foot of a very tall robot, staring down at them.
"Oh-oh fuck," Grif stammered as he wiped his mouth and stared up at the Cybertronian. The huge, scowling Cybertronian with a horned helmet and dark glowing eyes. "Heeeey! Hey, buddy. Tall guy. You're all tall guys. Can I-can I wipe that up for you? Can you not kill me for it?"
"Fuuuck," Simmons squeaked. "Fuck, fuck, we're going to die now..."
The looming Cybertronian gazed down at them for another moment. "Please be more careful with your body fluids, Organic." He had a deep, resonant voice coming out of his skull-like face and oh hell, they really were going to die. A robot demon was going to kill them because of Grif. Simmons somehow knew it would end that way.
"Organic? Whoa, are those the humans?!"
A much smaller shape came out from behind the purple robot, peering around his legs. 'Smaller' was relative, as this one still stood several feet taller than any human, with a white and blue chassis and a visored face. "Hoooly Primus, it is the humans! I didn't get a chance to see them until now!"
He walked out in front of his companion and held out a claw-like hand to the bewildered solders. "Name's Tailgate. I'm kind of a big deal around here. This is Cyclonus, and...eww." He lifted up his foot. "Are you guys melting?"
"Careful, Tailgate," Cyclonus boomed. "The gold human is ill."
"It's orange," Grif said, with much less confidence than usual. "Uh, Grif, that's Simmons, sorry I puked on your shoes."
"I thought you said you don't apologize," Simmons couldn't help whispering.
"To a guy who looks like that?! You fuckin' apologize," Grif snapped back. Then he slumped again, prompting Simmons to catch him.
"Oh gosh! You're not gonna die here, are you? That would be awful! I finally get to meet humans and be taller than someone and they die." Tailgate ran his hands over his angular head. "What should we do? Should we take them to Ratchet and First Aid?"
Cyclonus considered, scratching his chin. "Perhaps so. Ratchet spent some time on Earth and may know something about human physiology."
"Told you," Simmons added.
"And if many others see them here like this, it may cause a panic about contamination on the ship. For all we know, whatever's happening to-Grif, is it?-may somehow affect us."
At that Tailgate, who was clearly about to poke Grif, pulled back rapidly. "Jeez. I didn't think about it that way. I was just going to say they could ride in my vehicle mode. Humans do that, right? Ride in things?"
"There is no need. I have already been exposed." Without a warning, Cyclonus reached down with hands almost as big as Simmons.
"Oh GOD oh god oh god." Simmons was absolutely not clinging to Grif with anything but sheer instinctive terror as the giant's hands wrapped around them.
"I said I'm sorry! I actually said I'm sorry," Grif pleaded. "I'm just drunk! Puking on someone's shoes is part of the experience! Please don't eat me, please don't..."
He trailed off as he, like Simmons, seemed to realize they were unharmed. Cyclonus had them in his firm but gentle grip and held them as if they were something fragile.
"...Huh. Okay, this is actually kind of cool. Fuck yeah, 'm riding a giant robot! To First Ratchet or whoever. Hey-hey Simmons. Try looking down, it's great."
"I am not looking down," Simmons insisted, scowling at his teammate. He already knew they were in fact, quite high up, and only hoped the stoic Cyclonus didn't drop them as Tailgate darted between his legs and climbed up his back to get a better look at the humans.
"You guys are so teeny and squishy." Tailgate somehow managed to beam without a mouth.
"You guys...suck," was all Simmons managed in response, though his heart wasn't into it.
Tailgate had managed to situate himself on Cyclonus's shoulders, the violet giant showing no signs of irritation at this. "Do you like it here?" "Yes!" Simmons said.
"No," said Grif at the exact same time.
"We've encountered aliens before, but we could barely communicate with them. You guys are just so advanced! You have a rich history and some of you were alive for it! You live for millions of years. That's just so fascinating to imagine." Simmons still had to crane his neck to look Cyclonus and Tailgate in the eye-lights.
"Cyclonus and I are both pre-war." Tailgate nodded his head, and Simmons had the impression of a bird puffing out its feathers. "Though, uh, I kind of missed it? Long story."
Cyclonus peered at the humans in his hands. "There are some among us who wonder what it must be like for you. You experience your entire lives in a blink of ours, yet your society is dynamic and changes rapidly. Though the humans I am familiar with never wore that sort of power armor."
"Yeah, Brainstorm thought we got pulled through a dimensional hole. So we're probably from either a different time or universe!...Probably universe. If you'd made contact with Earth, we'd have heard of you," Simmons noted.
"Yeah, yeah, blah blah." Grif had his helmet back on and was sitting up with some effort in Cyclonus's palm. "You know what I would do if I had millions of years of life? If I didn't have to worry about getting old?"
"Fulfill dreams that would be too expensive or far-off to achieve otherwise?" Simmons suggested. "Travel the galaxy? Read every book in existence?"
"Nope! Nothing. I would do absolutely, completely nothing. Just four million years of nothing." Grif gestured wildly as he talked, due to his inebriation, illness or both. "Just enjoy the longest nap possible."
Simmons sighed. "Why am I not surprised."
"Uh." Tailgate held up a finger. "Speaking from experience, napping for four million years? Not actually recommended. Everything changes without you and...leaves you behind." For some reason he glanced at Cyclonus, who gave him a surprisingly tender look back.
Maybe the little guy was a robot demon too. "Yeah, yeah, don't let life pass you by, seize the diem, whatever. You wanna know why I'd spend that time doing nothing? You wanna know why? Because doing things is bad."
Cyclonus tilted his head, his tone suggesting amusement. "Do tell."
"You do things and people follow you. They get into trouble when you do. Doing things means you gotta leave people behind to do 'em. And then you fuck things up. They fuck things up. People who take action and lead and fight and all that shit? They fuck things up. Look at-look at you guys. No offense, but you live forever and you had a god damn four million year war that messed up your planet, and then you decided to mess ours up for good measure. Cuz you had a lot of time and everyone thinks you have to fill time."
"...Uh." Simmons wasn't really sure what to say to that. "It sounds like it was more complicated than that."
"I'm telling you. That's the secret. Never do anything ever." Somehow Grif didn't sound as smug and easygoing in his assertion than usual. Maybe that was the illness too.
"Hey! You can't disrespect the war heroes of Cybertron like that," Tailgate snapped. "You don't know what they went through. When you're faced with injustice and tyranny, you have to do something! Otherwise you're just as responsible as the tyrants. You know what I would have done if I had a chance to do something all those years? If I still had them?!"
"Tailgate. It is alright," Cyclonus said, voice surprisingly level. "These humans have known war. And he is not the first to suggest anything would have been a better alternative than death and suffering."
Tailgate sighed. "I guess, but...it's not right."
"And we do take action on behalf of good causes! For instance, the Blues..." Simmons trailed off. What were they capturing the flag for? What was the cause? Why was he thinking about this so hard? Why hadn't he before?
Grif, meanwhile, had fallen quiet. At first Simmons thought he'd passed out. But the orange soldier was still sitting up, sulking.
"Well! Uh, this is an awkward subject," Tailgate said, shaking his head. "How about I ask you questions? Is it true you guys have big sticky tongues for catching your food or is Whirl lying about that?"
Simmons rubbed the bridge of his nose and hoped the medical bay wasn't too far away.
"Are you sure these are just holograms? They're so realistic!" Donut sat cross-legged behind Whirl's avatar, braiding his blue hair. "But you've got split ends, I'm sorry to say. I don't suppose you can make hologram hair treatments?"
"Nah, though I bet if you ask Brainstorm he'd try. I'm not allowed in his lab most of the time." The actual Whirl had been assigned to stay in his quarters after making some kind of joke that flew over Donut's head but made the captains uneasy.
But for all the robot had a reputation, Donut found him very easy to talk with. One just had to listen. "So what happened to all the baby robots in the planet?"
"Baby robots? Oh, Sparks aren't really babies unless you, uh, well the process is confusing and probably boring. I guess they're still on Luna 1. I dunno."
"I can tell you what we need to do to make babies!"
"Nah, I saw that in an Earth movie once. It's hilarious, by the way. The movie, I mean, but also how you guys reproduce."
Donut blinked. "Oh, you like watching our movies?"
"Sometimes. We got kinda entangled with Earth. Swerve's really into it. I think he might be a closet Humie."
"A what?"
"You know, has a humansona." Whirl seemed to be considering something, then shrugged as if changing his mind. "Never mind. It probably wouldn't be as funny to you. But I like Earth movies alright."
"What's your favorite?"
"Let's see. I got a few." The avatar counted off on his fingers. "Apocalypse Now, Ichi the Killer, Falling Down, and...what was it called? Oh, yeah. Strictly Ballroom."
Donut beamed, barely containing a squeal. "I love Strictly Ballroom! I'm so glad we can connect across time and space like this! Have you seen any other Baz Luhrmann movies? Tell me you've at least seen Moulin Rouge. I mean, it's not his best but it's worth seeing at least once before you die. Oh, and finished!"
"Moulin Rouge, huh. I'll remember that." Whirl floated up and examined one of the Swiss Miss braids Donut had tied off with pink ribbons. "Hey, l like it! It's pink, like spilled Energon."
"Exactly!" Donut couldn't remember what that was, but his new friend was happy. That was what mattered.
That happiness seemed to evaporate the moment the great doors slid open and a broad-chested silver robot lumbered in. Donut couldn't quite remember which one he was. There were so many different robots here, and they'd be insulted if Donut admitted he had trouble keeping track of them.
Whirl obviously recognized them, his avatar's smile taking on a more sinister, sarcastic tone. "Oh, hey! You guys said nothing about holomatter avatars, so eat my tailpipe."
But no harm came of being nice. Donut jumped to his feet and waved, looking up and up at the newcomer. "Hello! I think we met before but not one on one yet, right? I've tried to introduce myself to everyone but I lost track and almost collapsed from exhaustion yesterday, so now I'm under orders to make one friend at a time. Name's Donut." He held out his hand.
The silver robot stared at it as if he didn't know what to do with it. "Oh, right," he rumbled. "This is a greeting gesture." He held out a finger for Donut to shake. "I am Megatron, captain. And hello, Whirl. You are correct. We neglected to mention that."
Whirl crossed his arms. "What, so I have to cool off in my quarters, air quotes, but you get to wander freely?"
"Because I am Captain, and reassured Ultra Magnus and Rodimus I would do no harm. And you joked about playing human hockey."
"Joked! I was joking! Jeez. Well, what do you want?"
"I would like to speak with Donut for a moment." Megatron gave Whirl a pointed look.
"Nooooot going anywhere. I just got my hair done and I am gonna sit here looking pretty and watching you." Whirl stuck his pinkies out. "See? That's how it goes, right Donut? Am I doing it right?"
"That's exactly the proper English way to drink tea! Perfect, Whirl." Donut gave Whirl a thumbs-up and craned his neck back up to Megatron. "So what can I help you with? I can't do your hair unless you show me an avatar, but I bet I could suggest some touch-ups. Silver looks fantastic with purple."
Megatron's red eyes flickered. "No, that will not be necessary. You are Red Team, correct? I assumed, since you wear pink."
"That again? It's lightish-red!" Donut huffed. Even aliens couldn't tell the difference? And wouldn't everything look red through tinted optics?
"I see. I knew of one warrior who wore...lightish-red. It is the color of our life fluids, and of your organs and viscera. A fitting color for one who killed so many of my soldiers. You must be a formidable warrior as well, to bear it as your own."
Donut had the impression color theory and association worked very differently for Cybertronians. "Uh, thank you!" He didn't want to be rude. "So what do you need to know about Red Team?"
"I wish to know more about your goals, your conflict and your leader. I will not use this information to assist your enemies, I assure you."
"Oh, good! Because I love sharing, but if secrets made it to the Blues Sarge would be really upset with me." Donut decided to climb up onto a stack of boxes so he could at least sit a little closer to Megatron, who apparently had no intention of sitting down. A little rude, but Donut let it pass. Alien etiquette might have different rules.
"So," he continued, "let's see. We have this really nice base over at Blood Gulch, though thanks to a really complicated incident involving teleporters we got separated from it. And Blue has a flag, and we need to capture it."
Megatron stood patiently. After a second, Donut realized he was expecting more.
"Uh, I think that's about it."
"You need to capture their...flag? And what does the flag grant you?"
"Uh, victory, obviously! Then they have to try to get their flag back or steal ours. I have the record for successful flag-stealing for the entire canyon, by the way!" Donut posed dramatically, chin up. "One."
Megatron didn't say anything for a few seconds.
"Haha, humans are fun." Whirl floated behind him, chewing on holographic bubble gum.
Megatron's optics blinked once, then twice. "I see," he finally said, in a very forced neutral tone. "Well, my respect for your record."
"Thank you! We really are a great team. I love that you guys have red badges, by the way! Excellent color choice."
"It does grow on one," Megatron said, absently placing a hand over his badge.
"And as for Sarge, if you really want to get to know him you should just talk to him yourself! He's very sociable and he'd probably love making friends with another solder. Especially someone like you, who's kind of reserved."
"You are the first person in four million years to call me 'reserved,'" Megatron said with a hint of a smile.
"Compared to Sarge, anyway! He gets so, so intense. I like him a lot but I worry that's not great for his heart. Really, everyone on Red Team could stand to adopt some healthier habits. Sarge is always tense, Simmons stays up all night reading comics in dim light and likes energy drinks too much, and Grif really needs to look into quitting smoking."
"War has a poor effect on health," Megatron said. "I admit I am puzzled by every aspect of your so-called war."
"Oh, same."
Megatron blinked again. "Well. Donut, this has been informative." There was a faint buzzing noise around the robot, who seemed to notice it and look around. "Ultra Magnus is asking for my attention. I believe I should say enjoy the rest of your stay?"
"Oh, he gave us the nicest presentation when we arrived! A little dry, though. Say hi to him for me!"
As Megatron lumbered off, Whirl floated back to the ground. "You know who he is, right?"
"I think so."
"And you had a civil conversation with a guy who's killed a lot of humans? Like, a lot?"
Donut paused and frowned. "I think I do have some of you mixed up after all. But if you're all willing to give him a second chance, who am I to judge?"
