Starflower525 - It is so good to hear that the reveal for how Phage pulled a fast one over Megatron was well worth the wait! I have been nervous for a long time on how that scene would be received.
ChroniclerEnigma - Thank you for all the lovely, lovely reviews! And a big thank you for helping to push the review count for Resonance above fifty! I don't think I could possibly respond to all the reviews, especially the length of some of them, but I thoroughly enjoyed reading them.
Chron - Thank you for pointing the slip up out! It reminded me that I need to spend time in the future to go back over this monstrously long fanfic and edit everything. There are events that I've retconned as I've gone along and I cringe when I go back and see all the errors.
Thank you to Tauni and ChroniclerEngima for favoriting and following Resonance!
Authors Note: I have been very, very nervous about the big reveal in this chapter. I have been nervous about it since I set out to write Resonance. Part of the reason it took so long to get these last two chapters out is because of the two big reveals that I have dropped-the Matrix's true location and what is going on with Phage. This chapter has been rewritten a number of times and originally featured a much more angry Optimus Prime that was taking the 'I have to protect the Autobots' approach. The way it finally came out, that I like much better, is more levelled and understanding. I would love to hear what the community thinks of this, did I do well with this reveal? Before I wrap up this authors note, I just wanted to let everyone know that the next chapter is the final showdown. Lots of fighting between the mindscape and in the Decepticon seabase. There will be craziness, twists and turns.
Sea Spray glanced around the engaged column, then abruptly dived back, shielding Phage with his frame in the tight claustrophobic space as a blast from Megatron's cannon drew too near for comfort. Close enough that they felt the heat from the tight concentrated beam briefly as it missed their area and blew up a column further down the hall, narrowly missing Spike and Bumblebee.
His cranium snapped up, hardly an inch apart from Phage's own. "Pitt!" Cursed Sea Spray. "You're worsening!"
She could see what he meant as her reflection stared back at her from his visor. Her appearance was as ragged and worn down as a virus-stricken Cybertronian. Her azure optics had faded to a shade closer to the deepest ocean hue with a faint blue ring around her pupils, a huge red flag to any 'bot with medical knowledge that the reformat was not going well. Framed by the new sweltering mercurial sheen of her face as her body underwent the reformat, she looked sick and felt it, her core temperature shifting between burning and cold chills.
If Megatron didn't already know, one look at me and he would, thought Phage as she struggled for shallow breaths.
"Quickly, I need you too open—Aharg!"
"Sea Spray!" Phage shouted, her slim servos latching on to the mech to try and drag him flush behind cover, but she could not get him to budge. Sea Spray had rooted himself to the floor, hunched over her and hissing, his muscle cables tense around her as he rode out the worse of the pain from Megatron's blast across his backside.
"Sea Spray! Get into proper cover!"
"It's nothing." He grit, loosening, and chortled to try and shake off the pain. "A glancing blow."
"Sea Spray!" Phage hissed, and Optimus Prime ready to command him, when Megatron abruptly bellowed from down the hall with his impressive voice use to shouting commands across entire battlefields.
"PHAGE!" Roared Megatron, his voice magnified in the narrow confines of the hall seemed to come from everywhere all at once. "YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD DECEIVE ME!?"
The energon ran cold through their burning systems as their fuel pump lodged itself at the back of their mouth. :I am going to die.:
:Optimism Phage.:
:That's easy for you. It's in your name!:
Heckled by Phage's rising panic and unable to retort to Megatron's outburst as he normally would, for his own fear of putting Phage at further risk, put Optimus Prime in a particular mood. In spite of that or because of it, Optimus had to take stock of the battle. He risked a peek around the engaged column, hoping the blanket of darkness Megatron had plunged everyone into would shield them from Megatron's visual. At the end of the hall their optics landed on Megatron's singular large figure, and only Megatron. The damaged lighting flickered ominously, illuminating the silver and black of Megatron's frame in brief nanoklicks. Smoke curled skyward from the barrel of his cannon. His crimson optics burned steadily through the shifting shadows and flickering lights, searching for them. His mouth curled upwards into a snarl as he continued, "There is no place on this planet you can run that I would not follow! No Autobot or ally of yours that I would not tear asunder to reclaim what you have!"
"You can certainly try, Megatron!" Quipped Jazz before he open fired with his photon rifle, swiftly joined by the other Autobots. As Sea Spray rose up to engage, the M.T.O. let rent a roar of a warcry from his vocal processor that was met with equal enthusiasm by Spike and then Bumblebee.
In the midst of the Autobot return fire that lit up the dark hall with a dazzling array of lights, Jazz gave an agitated hand signal to Sea Spray, alerting him to Phage's peeping antic. "What are you doing?!" Hissed Sea Spray as he shoved them back into the corner, shielding them from any further threat of failing debris or weapon fire with his own body. "Stay hidden!" He commanded before rolling back around the column to reengage.
Before Phage-Optimus could muster indignation let alone an argument, another reformat contraction slammed through them. It was Phage's instinct to curl in on herself in the mercy of the corner provided by the engaged column and the wall, gritting against the pain as she rode out the wave. The moment she did, Optimus's consciousness rose up in her cranium, an ancient wall that would not break. :Desist in resisting the reformat, Phage. You are only harming yourself!:
:It hurts so bad...:
:Because you are resisting. You are tightening up when you should relax. If you continue to resist at this stage of the reformat you could break your frame or worse, miss the reformat window entirely and enter the cooling phase.:
:That's...bad?:
:If your body does not configure correctly we will terminate. Phage, it is imperative you listen to me for both of our sake's. You need to start by breathing. Relax your muscle cables-:
:We're in a battle!:
:I've noticed.: Strained Optimus's Send. :Let the Autobots do their job and defend our position while we resolve this situation.:
:Trial by fire it is.:
:Indeed. Now again, find your center. Calm. Relax. Listen to my voice...:
:I could do that all day.:
Within the mindscape, Optimus Prime's avatar tried to suppress the quirk of a smile playing under his battlemask, but it reached his optics nonetheless. :Focus, Phage.: He chided.
"Optimus Prime, sir, do me a favor and guide her through the reformat process while I help Jazz gain us some proper cover to make the exchange!" Sea Spray commanded between bursts of exchange fire.
Their attention retrained on Sea Spray. Between shallow breaths, Optimus replied with an irksome edge, "Already...on that."
:I don't think I can do this!: Squeaked Phage's frantic Send. :I have a decent high pain tolerance but this hurts like hell! I just grew new appendages-wings, door wing panels?-and-and...:
:Yes, you will. You have to. There is no other choice.:
:Damn it.: Came Phage's next Send, a small and frightened thought that was bursting at the seams that she wanted to break down, but between her own pride and Optimus Prime, would not.
:There should be another reformate wave coming upon us at any nanoklik. When it hits, you must ride with the wave rather than brace against it.:
:I don't understand.: Came her stressed and fragile Send.
As Optimus Prime predicted, another reformate wave struck hard. On human instinct, Phage began to tighten and curl against the pain. Recognizing the danger, Optimus immediately seized control and forced her body to relax, practicing what he was preaching as he commanded her muscle cables to loosen and vanquished the knot in their fuel tanks. Gradually, they settled further into the corner, cycling air in calm, even breathes through their systems. The battle grew distant to their senses as Optimus focused solely inward. Phage marveled at the strength of will he called forth to drop so easily into a meditative state despite the battle, her own consciousness forced to calm in the shadow of his own. Eventually, the reformate wave progressed as it had been pre-coded to do. A thin layer of exodermal armor natural to her design solidified in its shape. Color began to tint her frame yet again with the familiar shades of white and teal. Before too long, the wave ebbed and subsided.
Having watched him from the sidelines within her own brain module, Phage became giddy with excitement. :I think I get it now!:
:Good.: Sent Optimus simply. :You'll do the next wave.:
A small stab of anxiety rippled through their fuel tanks. :I will?: She asked dubiously.
:Yes.: Bit Prime. :I can't guide you through future reformate's you will endure. You have to learn how to do this on your own.:
:But-!:
:Here comes the next...::
The next reformate wave struck sooner and faster than Phage anticipated, hitting like a tidal wave. She tried to mimic the calm disposition Optimus had shown her despite knowing that level of calm and willpower came from eons of practice. She focused on loosening the knot of tension she carried in her shoulder struts, tried to relax and let gravity sink her frame into the corner as the reformate wave burned through her systems. She breathed in, held the breath, and breathed out again.
:Good.: Praised Optimus Prime. :You are doing well. Now try this. Clear your mind. Think of a single flame in the dark. Shapeless. Perfection.:
:Not easy.:. She grit, hearing the firefight going on around them.
:Focus.: Thundered Prime, his patience strained. Phage jumped to do as he demanded. :...Good. Now let that grow. Expand. Feed the flame. Let it consume the dark. Burn away the old so the new can grow. You are doing wonderfully!: Praised Optimus Prime, but the moment Phage felt her body re-configuring her mind began to shift into panic, old human experiences rising in alarm that her body should not be able to move in those directions or grow new appendages. :Do not be alarmed! This is normal. Focus on the flame.:
With Optimus guiding her, she did just that. The reformat resumed smoothly, her body reigniting in a wave of sweltering heat before progressing painlessly. At the first, Prime Sensed Phage's focus break and began to slip back into tight knot of anxiety as she grew new exodermal armor on her arms. He was quick to sooth, reminding her gently that it was normal. :Do not tighten your muscle cables. Do not lock up. Relax...Good. Allow the flame to consume. Let the flame burn away the old to allow new order to grow-Perfect, Alo Ata.:
In the midst of the chaos, Optimus Prime's presence was reassuring, an anchor of security in the midst of the strife. :I love you.: Phage Sent suddenly, the words forming so naturally that she felt nothing could be more true in that moment in time.
There was a moment's hesitance from Optimus Prime, taken aback by the abrupt admission. Then, he simply Sent back warmly, :I know.:
Phage deflated, the moment souring into awkwardness. :Optimus, I-"
In that instant, they felt something in their brain module snap. A micro explosion, of a sort. Reality warped around them, slowing down, while their audio feedback sounded as if it had been submerged underwater. Static snow drifted lazily across their visual. Phage began to panic. Optimus began to worry something had gone amiss. Weakly, they tried to get Sea Spray's attention. His damaged back was too them as he fired volley after volley of laser fire down the hall, stopping only to exchange cell clips or dodge return fire. They tried to reach out, tried to brace themselves against the wall with their opposite servo to prop themselves up, but their frame would not comply. They felt adrift, detached from their physical body. They observed, as if from someone else's optics, as events developed around them. Gradually, their cranium listed on to their shoulder strut and fell back against the wall. Things kept going sideways from there until they found where the wall met the floor.
:Everything's cold...: Phage Sent, feeling that it took an age to formulate the simple thought. :Why is everything suddenly cold?:
:I believe we are cooling prematurely? Focus.: Sent Optimus cool, calm and collected. :Breath.:
:I'm scared. I can't...why...:
:Work with me, Alo Ata, not against. Breath in. Focus. Breath out. Reconfiguration does not have to be frightening.:
:This isn't normal for humans.:
:You have not been human for two Earth years. Now stop thinking like one. We will terminate if you do not cooperate with me. Now breath...Slower. Focus. Think of this like when you shift sizes, if it helps. Do you remember when you first activated your subspace drive? You were anxious then, but you were a natural. Now focus on the flame...: She closed her optics, straining for meditative focus in the chaos. Phage tried to let go of her anxiety and block out the battle all around them but found that ignoring weaponfire was an intensely difficult matter. Then, quite abruptly, Optimus Prime's patience snapped. :Just cede control to me this instant! I was a fool, trying to make this a teachable lesson when you so clearly lack basic Cybertronian instinct.:
Stunned by his outburst of temper, Phage did not demur, but willfully found her conscious shrinking before his ancient one. She felt small and powerless within her own mind and body as Prime seized the reigns. Furthermore, where she had struggled to nurture her flame, Phage marveled as Optimus Prime did not merely conjure a flame in the void, but a sun and let it burn just as terribly. It seemed, within the private confines of the mindscape, that that terrible flame banished every shadow within her Undersea as Optimus used it to feed the flame. A strange mix of emotions and thoughts bubbled through Phage's mental processes, how she felt weak and pathetic that she could not do what Prime had did, that it was not fair given she was not Cybertronian born, and frustration at herself that she could not grasp the concept so fast. As she stewed on her mixed feelings, Prime's iron will had righted whatever problem had arose. The static snow gradually dissipated and with it their senses began to right themselves. The cold spell that had seized her body dissipated and began to reheat.
"Optimus..." Before Phage could give voice to her relief, her fear, her frustration and gratitude all at once and sort it out as she spoke, Sea Spray's full-faced battlemask swam into their view and startled her enough to hold her glossa. He love tapped the side of their face with the flat of his servo, calling her designation over and over again in growing alarm. "-age! Prime! Sir—err, Ma'am...? I have to move you! We're not safe to do an emergency transfer here!" That was the only warning they got before Sea Spray gathered up their reformating frame in his arms and cradled them protectively to his chassis bridal style. Phage's face contorted at the treatment as Optimus was once again embarrassed by his weakened state.
It was then, at a predetermined plan that passed between Jazz and Sea Spray with a nod, that the Autobots sprang around from their corners and laid down heavy suppressive fire. Sea Spray took the moment. Hunkering low, he darted to the back of the extraction group, pass Bumblebee and Spike and slid in behind another engaged column further down. Laserfire pinged his armor, but absorbed harmlessly.
During the harried dash, Phage determined that the mental pop during the reformat must have broke something upstairs, because there was no other explanation for the sudden neon green heads-up-display that was framing her view, or the odd pop up window that was demanding her attention, or even the readouts that were pinging her and telling her useless information such as the name of the mech carrying her. While she was perplexed by the user interface, all at once the half of their consciousness that was Optimus Prime came alert, eager and excited, because there were applications, and he seized on them like an addict. Where Optimus's attention turned to these, Phage tried to practice the concept of the consuming flame as their body passed through another contraction. Phage tried desperately to focus on the concept of a flame in the dark as Optimus had instructed, expanding and growing and consuming, yet Optimus himself became a further distracting force, tearing through the portion of her brain module Phage never realized hid a computer. Her concentration slipped, curiosity drawing her focus away as she wondered if what had just happened to her brain module was how computers felt when they got a factory reboot. Phage wondered if that was what the pop in her brain module had been about. A reboot brought on by the reformat? Had all those apps always been there and, simply, uninstalled? What was all there?
:All the apps I need.: Replied Optimus Prime to her meandering thoughts and Phage, still trying to grasp at that meditative flame, could not find it in her to get upset at herself that she had projected the thought openly and instead responded lazily, :What kind of apps?:
:The usual mundane and military ones. Toggable user interface-:
:Turn it off. It's so distracting.:
:-Internal clock-:
:Nice but don't really need that.:
:Yes, you do. Self diagnostic, integrated comms, assisted targeting, scanners...Focus on the flame, Phage.:
:You and the firefight are distracting!.:
:Focus.: Chided Prime as he went to access yet another file.
:At this point, you might as well finish it.: Phage Sent bitterly, then realized a second too late what the file contained that Optimus was about to open. :No! Don't!: To both of their dismays, it was a master file that unleashed a hoard of memory files.
Phage felt Optimus Prime's elder consciousness reel at the information unloaded, and all Phage's concentration broke as the processor ache revived with a malicious will. Within the mindscape, Phage and Optimus Prime's avatars groaned and stumbled, clutching at their craniums, but it was Optimus who demanded sharply, :What did I just open!:
Phage did not respond, and instead her avatar made a desperate rush to try and command the plethroa of windows to return to their master file with a wave of her servo. But there was too many, and Optimus Prime had regained himself. He was silent as he observed each floating file, taking note of their display image and sample audio. :Phage.: He Sent, the gravitas alone giving Phage's avatar pause, extreme anxiety creasing her refined features. :Are those training protocols for M.T.O.'s?:
Still holding her avatar's cranium, Phage shot him a frightened look. :Training protocols? Are those-no. No! No. They're-I'm not crazy okay?: Phage's Send hit a shrill peak.
:I never said that.: Optimus stared at her intently, optics growing full of suspicion.
:They're not...I don't think...I didn't know you were worried about Lazalt tampering or anything! Optimus, wait!: He had turned sharply away from her and began accessing the files, and was skimming through them with frightening speed. Of the clips of video that zipped by, Optimus caught snippets of Phage when she was still human and called Alicean Witwicky. Those were gone in an instant, replaced by her father Radar and Uncle Sparkplug in American military uniforms when they were young men, then a mother fleeing Poland with her children during World War II that Optimus Prime instinctively understood must have been the great grandmother Witwicky from all the Witwicky family stories, and still further back across cultures and ages: he caught glimpses of knights, Roman soldiers on the march, Greek peoples from Sparta to Athens, Macedonia and further still, splashing across the seas into nordic country with memories so intense he could feel the cold winds and taste the sea breeze, over oceans further still into a barbaric Ireland, and to the east into Asian and the Middle Eastern...and deeper still into an unrecorded past of human history...
Phage's pleading finally broke through his concentration. :Stop it! Turn it off! Those are my nightmares!: Optimus paused the stream, the current video stilled in the midst of a vicious battle between ornately decorated soldiers and disfigured seafarers, none of which he could identify the culture the peoples belonged too nor the age. His avatar turned at the waist, staring Phage's avatar down where she had remained, unmoved, but now a cracked and hyperventilating thing that had buried her servos in her silver synthetic hair. :Turn them off! Please!:
::What. Nightmares.: Clipped Optimus sternly. Her avatar quelled under the intensity in his optics, a flash of something dark and stormy that frightened her terribly.
"-age! Prime! Anyone! Come back to me!"
They blinked rapidly, coming around at the persistent love taps across their cheek that left a smart sting. Sea Spray's face filled their visual, the eerie stoic full face battlemask glaring at them, but his rough voice laced with worry. "There's a good lass! Err, Prime-good, Pri-Uuh-Just stay with us! We have to be quick."
"Quick?" Phage echoed, only then registering that they had made it behind the Extraction Team.
"Yes! Quick!" Gruffly ordered Sea Spray, making them pull a face. "We have to hurry!" Before Phage could say anything, Sea Spray's chest plating shifted and pulled apart, exposing not only his brilliant pulsing spark but an isolated empty cavity for a secondary. In the dark, their small hiding spot lit up with the warm glow as the air became charged by the exposed spark. "I completely understand why you did this, lass." Sea Spray announced suddenly where not even the full battlemask could diminish the solemn note in his words. Labored, shallow breaths marked the rise and fall of their chassis. Propped against the corner of an engaged column and the wall, their optics drifted from Sea Spray's exposed chassis and up to his face.
Within the mindscape, Optimus's avatar still hounded her for answers. :Phage.: Growled Prime's Send. :What. Nightmares.:
:I mentioned it before!: She Sent back frantically.
Their hesitation to open their chassis marked an anxious shift from Sea Spray, who barked abruptly, "Phage! Now! You have to give Prime to me now! We can't wait!" Sea Spray's attention jerked nervously down the corridor and back to them. They had the sudden haunting reminder that Sea Spray was in the same place Phage had been in just that afternoon. "Open your chassis so I can take him now! We're running out of time! ...Phage!"
:Phage! Out with it!: Rumbled Prime as Phage's avatar flinched away from him, while to Sea Spray he managed to weakly voice through Phage's vocal processor. "A...few more nanokliks..."
"Prime?" Sea Spray nearly snarled. "Why the slag-" Began Sea Spray irritably, then said sharply, "Forgiving protocol here, but frag no, sir. Do not make me rattle off your life support readings! Phage—disregard Optimus Prime. Open your chassis or I will."
Their optics grew large and round. After the barest moments of hesitation, her servos slid over her chassis and gripped the panels. Sluggishly, her chest cavity pulled apart...
Further up the hall, as Jazz laid down heavy weapon fire from around his engaged column, he caught a bright radiant haze from the corner of his peripheral nanokliks before his internal scanners registered a new electrical currant tingling the air. Behind his visor, Jazz briefly glanced around to the engaged column where it was coming from and saw only Sea Spray's backside and a brilliant radiant halo ringing his frame.
His mouth set in fierce determination. "Autobots! Hold the line!"
The hallway dissolved into a furious murder hole, but for whose side was unclear. Laserfire flew back and forth in quick succession, more and more coming from Megatron's half of the hall as time stretched on, alerting Jazz that additional Decepticons had arrived to join in their commanders defense of their home. Little by little the Autobots were pushed back down the hall, losing one column after another until they were on top of Sea Spray and Phage all over again. In the delicate process of extracting one of the two sparks from Phage's frame, Sea Spray hissed through his battlemask as his backside was peppered with strafing Decepticon fire.
"Sea Spray!" Worried Phage, but the gruff M.T.O. vented air heavily through his systems and wordlessly finished the operation by securing the secondary spark in his spare chamber. Its protective shielding slid into place, blocking the loose spark in before his chest paneling shifted back into its proper shape. "All secure." Rasped Sea Spray.
"You cannot hide Phage from me forever!" Bellowed Megatron from down the hall, putting such mocking emphasis on her designation to leave no doubt he knew the truth of what she had done. "I will hound her to the ends of this world! I will track her across star systems if I have too!" As the threat rang all around her, Phage scrambled to push herself deeper into the corner of the engaged column and the wall, her chest panels closing over her spark chamber while her pedes kicked the floor to give her the momentum needed to hide herself as best she could without phasing.
"You deserve a damn trophy, Lil' Katt!" Jazz shouted as he fired off a volley of weapon fire around the column and ducked on the return. "I've only ever heard of a handful of mechs earning a personal vendetta from Megatron himself!"
"Man, we really kicked the hornets nest on this one!" Shouted Spike, firing and ducking and repeating the cycle.
"What?"
"Never mind, 'Bee! -Where the hell are the Aerialbots! -Hey!" Hollered Spike, then abruptly cried out as Bumblebee unexpectedly swung his arm around and caught Spike's exosuit across the chassis. The yellow minibot pushed him back as a hail of gunfire rained on their position. A short scream burst from Bumblebee's vocal processor as energon and his exodermal armor exploded off his right arm, showering Spike and the wall in shrapnel and Cybertronian lifeblood. The small self sacrifice saved Spike, who had been hanging out further in the hallway than Bumblebee was, and was only tagged with superficial marks across his cold frame.
"Spike! 'Bee!" Jazz shouted.
"Shit!" Screamed Spike as he desperately seized Bumblebee and threw themselves behind their engaged column. "'Bee are you alright! I can see your muscle cables!"
"Can you move your digits, 'Bee!" Shouted Jetfire from across the way, where he and Jazz were flattened with their backs against the parallel wall as the Decepticons rained down their barrage of weaponfire.
Struggling to swallow the note of distress in his vocals, Bumblebee cradled his right arm at the elbow joint. One digit twitched, and then another. Then, all were moving in cascading synch. "Yes!" Bumblebee shouted back across the way, "But they're lagging!"
"Fragging Pitt!" Jazz hissed.
"Hurts like it too!" Gritted Bumblebee between his denta.
"Can you still fire your gun?" Asked Jazz.
"I think so!"
:This is not looking good!:
:Phage, listen to me. Breathe, find your center. We will make it through this.: She could Sense Prime's waning patience with their situation. :True bravery is when you face your fears and rise to confront the danger.:
:I've heard that gem of wisdom before.:
:Then center yourself and work with me.: Prime snapped as he settled fully into his battle mindset. :You were eager for a fight before. Here we are.:
:And you were complaining about me taking a life before-Hypocrite.:
:Not how you tried.: Optimus bit back. :Where is the honor in what you tried to do.:
:Honor? Pfth! It was precision. It was tactical. Surgical. If you had let me follow through with that swing Megatron wouldn't be giving us grief now! Bumblebee wouldn't be hurt! We will be lucky if no one else is damaged or worse!:
:If Megatron is to terminate, it will be honorably, not some underhanded tactic.:
:Is that so.: She snarked. :And how many times have you had that opportunity?:
There really was no filter to sieve her Sends from her personal thoughts that she was not wholly capable of exercising. The whole experience was new to her, and she still had problems isolating her private thoughts from her Sends to Prime even when she thought that they were. In that regard she wished, too late, that she knew how to properly use the new muscle, as their systems suddenly flooded through with rage from an irate Optimus Prime. Phage's consciousness paled before the flood, giving more ground to Prime than she would have otherwise done.
"Sea Spray!" Optimus practically barked at the M.T.O., full commanding gravitas bolstering their voice. "Give me a gun!"
"But-!"
They shot him a severe glare, one, Sea Spray was sure, that could have ignited his living metal frame on fire if Optimus Prime had so willed. "Now." They ordered, holding their servo out, palm up.
"I've got you covered, Prime!" Jazz called across the way as he summoned a rifle from subspace and dropped it to the floor before kicking it across. The weapon slid effortlessly across the metal floor and Phage seized it up.
"Aah!" Sighed Prime as he quickly became familiar with the grasp, the weight and feel and adjusted the power settings on the cell charges. "This will do!"
Between the laser blasts that lit up the dark hall, the extraction team eyed them over with marked concern. Despite the removal of the secondary spark, the reformat continued, now swiftly with Optimus Prime commandeering a majority of Phage's neural processes as she withdrew before his ancient, experienced consciousness. Phage's frame settled and solidified into a sleek, aerodynamic four-wheeler, with the excess of exodermal armor accentuating the curve of her frame. Her silver synthetic hair, that had been barely contained in the messy braid, coalesced in thick batches and remolded into a multitude of omni-directional, serpentine hair.
"Spires of Iacon," Breathed Jetfire, drawing some attention to himself from his fellow Autobots. The large mech flushed and fumbled to add quickly, "Count your blessings, but it appears Sea Spray extracted Optimus Prime's spark on time. In fact, it appears that Prime's spark jump-started your own preordained function rather than corrupting it."
"Ya look wonderful, Lil' Katt, a real Cybertronian savage beauty, but only Ratchet can say how it affected things beneath the hood." Interjected Jazz, smoothly complimenting and reprimanding Jetfire all in one.
"Ah. Well. Yes. Of course! I was only making an observation!"
"Sure you were."
"What are you going to do, Prime?" Questioned Sea Spray warily. "Err, Phage. Phage...One?" Stumbled Sea Spray, looking imploringly to his peers through the darkness and hail fire of lasers that punctuated the dark like javelins of light.
"Phage-One?" Phage returned, lifting a delicate optical ridge at him. Behind the full faced battlemask, Sea Spray flushed, recalling too late that using the suffix '-One' around Optimus Prime might not have been a good call.
"I meant no disrespect, Prime. I just thought... Well, you're a combiner conscious with Phage right now. Phage Prime or Optimal Phage just...doesn't work. And then I thought, since Phage is Ratchet's medical assistant, the designation just sort of, rolled off the glossa."
"Aha!" Laughed Jazz suddenly from across the way as Jetfire and he leaned back around to return fire on a lull from the Decepticons. "I get it! Reference to her medical career, double reference to phase-one of an operation and triple reference to her outliner ability- Nice one, Sea Spray!"
"It just sort of came to me." Admitted the M.T.O with a humble shrug.
"Tch!" Grumbled Phage, pulling a face of disgruntlement. "Do I not get a say in this?"
"No." Teased Jazz. "It's done. The designation is stuck. Stuck as poor Getaway."
"That's messed up, Jazz." Sea Spray grunted.
"Not my issue. 'Bots earn their designations, and he earned his. Damn coward."
"Oh for god's sake!" Spike snapped off, firing aggressively down the hall and into the gloom where he had noted a burst of light before. "How are any of you alive!"
"Spike, surviving as long as any of us have means keeping a cool cranium and being able to laugh." Countered Jazz.
"Less laughing more shooting!"
"Someone's stressed." Teased Jazz.
"More shooting!" Screamed Spike. "Bumblebee and Jetfire are damaged! Sea Spray's been hit. I'm peppered! Phage-One is...I don't even know!"
"See?" Jazz continued to tease. "Stuck."
"Ugh." Grumbled Phage-One with a roll of their optics.
"If you planned on using that rifle for anything, Phage-One, now would be a good time!" Sing-sang Jazz over the rapport of gunfire.
"Planned? Humpth! Here's a classic." Phage-One countered as they rolled around the corner of the column and immediately began firing not at the Decepticons, but the walls. They could hear Spike and Jetfire begin to protest but cut off when the energy beams reflected and began ricocheting in a haphazard crazy crossfire on Megatron and the Decepticons. Down the hall, there came immediate screaming, and yelling, curses, and orders to fall back under the barrage. A devious grin plastered across Phage-One's face as they kept up the ricochet fire even as the Decepticons retreated further down the hall and dodged behind cover of the engaged columns. With the change in mood, their omni-hair moved of its own accord, snaking and twisting until it had gathered in mass atop their cranium into an tight, professional updo.
From the column just ahead of their own position, Spike threw his cranium back and laughed uproariously. The kind of laugh that aided to release the tension in his nerves. "Hahahaaa! Take that, Decepti-creeps!"
"Good ol' ricocheting trick! Never disappoints!" Jazz crowed from across the way.
"It should buy us some much needed time." Phage-One announced as their chassis swelled with pride in their skill and small victory. Enough, that Phage's avatar beamed in the mindscape, glowing with equal abandon, and teased, :You simply must teach me this trick!.:
:In due time, perhaps.: Her avatar flushed, then beamed at the prospect of learning the trick. :But first and foremost-Nightmares?:
The smile crumpled off their face and into a frown. "Damn your persistence."
Phage's avatar cast about and quickly realized that she was trapped within the mindscape with Optimus Prime. With nowhere she could go to flee him, she ran her servo over her face before settling on toying with her braid ceaselessly in her characteristic nervous fashion. Neither avatar had stirred from their positions, and Optimus's remained fixed, staring her down, with the fragmented files of her nightmares floating around the two of them. She was careful not to look at the files and kept her attention fixed on her pedes. When she projected her next Send, his optics narrowed further still to burning slits. :I thought I mentioned the nightmares before...: Sent Phage faintly, growing meek and still under his dark shift in demeanor.
:Jog my memory.: Whispered Optimus's Send severely. Caught up in the undercurrent of the data she disassembled what had him on edge. With the reformat restoring properties that should have been active at the start of her cyber-ascension, the question arose whether she was or was not a threat. A question that had tormented his processes for two long Earth years, and with the revelation that she had training protocols leaking through into her dreams while she recharged, Phage had no clear answer herself except that she did not think she was. Noting the rising fear in her face, and the anxiety churning the pit of their fuel tanks, and digesting the undercurrent of data in her Sends, Optimus Sensed she meant no harm or ill intention, was being truthful as always, but was, as she often was, an anxious wreck. His features broke. The hard edge relaxed and he broke his rigid stance, shifting his weight between pedes, and implored her with an outstretched servo. :Please, Phage. I was honest with you about the investigation. I opened up to you about us before your cyber-ascension. Be honest with me. What are you not fully telling me? Why are you so distraught?:
Her mouth came unhinged as her optics searched his fiercely bright, worried ones. :I-: She choked on the Send, then cracked and rushed to Send. :Wow. This is hard. How do I say this without sounding crazy?:
:Say what?: Pressed Prime with marked concern.
She squeezed her optics shut and exhaled air noisily through her mouth. :Iiiee...have-had nightmares.: Her servos viciously twisted and pulled at her braid. :Every night since I woke up as-as this.: Her left servo gestured to her avatar's body that echoed her android self, though now reformatted her avatar did not yet reflect the change. :Every. Night.: Phage reiterated, locking optics with him. :It got so bad that I dreaded sleeping and tried to get the bare minimum or even less of what I needed. Of course, everyone started noticing. Spike, Uncle Sparkplug, Ratchet, Wheeljack and Jazz. Huffer reprimanded me for carelessness, Ratchet for forgetfulness, Ironhide seemed pleased that I was working out my issues through training though, all because of it...I'm sure you must have noticed too.:
:Yes, I had.: Clipped Prime. :But your recharge deprivation goes back to the incident with the Insecticons in Washington. Before that even, to Radar's death.:
:Don't remind me.: Phage murmured and her optics darted to account for the dark caverns of her mindscape as if she half expected to hear the chittering memories again. Sympathy pierced Optimus Prime for the deep psychological scars that had yet to heal despite the years between then and now.
:Did you do anything about the nightmares?: Prime asked gently. He was eager to draw her attention away from the dark memories. :Did you tell anyone?:
:Spike and Uncle Sparkplug asked if I was having nightmares about what happened to me by, well...the Lazalt.: Phage answered freely as her optics slowly drew away from the back of the cavernous Undersea and retrained on him. :And no. I don't have any recollection of that, not even nightmares. Thank god. So I...just...said the usual. That I was fine. That I was having difficulty adjusting to being Cybertronian. Which was true. I...: She paused to gather herself before rushing to blurt it all out. :I felt I couldn't say what was really happening. How do you tell your family-or anyone really-that you're having nightmares every night about the lives of dead men from antiquity?:
Prime blinked hard. :Wait.: Then, unexpectedly, he stepped back as if he had been dealt a physical blow. Stunned by the abrupt change in his behavior, Phage watched him with wide optics as he glanced back around at the floating files, analyzing each individual one with critical care, then back at her. His optics swept her over from cranium to pede and back, an air about him that he was really truly seeing her for the first time. Phage shifted uneasily under the scrutiny. :You're having nightmares about what?:
:See!?: Phage deflected, stepping away from him and gesticulating towards him. :It sounds crazy! You even think so. Why the hell would I open my mouth and admit it to-:
:Phage.: Stressed Prime, cutting her off as he held his servos up in a placating gesture. :I never said that. You know I am not even processing it. I can clearly see your nightmares. I do not think you are crazy. There are a few explanation's for this. M.T.O. training protocols are the first to come to my processor. There is also cerebral shell implantation and Shadowplay tactics.:
:You said Ratchet said I was clean of that.:
:I did.: Stressed Prime. :And I do not think it is any of those.: Phage's face scrunched up at his admission of his suspicions, but before she could ask what he meant, Optimus continued. :So please, talk to me. What are the nightmares about?:
:What are they about?: Phage hesitated, and shuffled between her pedes, clearly agitated that any of this had come up at all as she tugged at her braid. :It's crazy.:
:You keep insisting that, but in my long life I have heard crazy and I have heard truth. And there are times that the two overlap, more so than you may realize.: Optimus Sent diplomatically. :So try me.:
Phage worried her bottom lip. After a brief spell within the mindscape's distorted sense of time, she came to a conclusion. She Sent swiftly and tersely. :Dead. Men. From Earth's antiquity. And women. Both.: She rushed to continue before she gave her decision a second thought. :Every night is the same.: Phage continued softly. :Battles and death and politics and...other more private affairs...Don't ask.: She blurted out. :It's like watching a virtual reality documentary of whose who in history except I can't shut it off until I'm killed in the dream. Not like I messed up and got a game over in a training simulation, mind you, but as in I'm Julius Caesar reliving his military career and it ends with him-me-getting stabbed by the Senate twenty-three times.: At the admission and further description of what her nightmares had been about, Optimus Prime's optics grew wider and rounder the more she trusted to divulge. :In another, I was reliving the life of the wild and fierce warrior Cu Chulainn. That ended with him getting his stomach cut open by a spear, taking his innards and tying himself up to a rock so he could die on his feet in battle. That one, Cu Chulainn was a bit of a badass but, um, still not fun that one. Or there was the one where I was Alexander the Great, again reliving his military career and observing political issues, and eventually dying of poison in bed while his greedy generals watched over him. Fucking bastards.: Phage snarled suddenly, the pupils of her optics flaring neon green briefly as she tossed a vicious side-eyed glare at nothing. The reaction had Optimus's thick optical ridges shooting up high. Her attention shifted back to his, and for the first time the notion struck him hard that her gaze was not just tired, but old and guarded and, perhaps, bordering sick. :Getting set on fire as Joan of Arc wasn't a fun one either. I woke up screaming and ran for the shower rack. I sat there under the cold for two hours at minimum until I could calm down and couldn't feel the fires licking at my skin anymore.: As she wound down she took stock of Optimus's reaction of her tale and could not decide if his wide optic stare was one of deep concern or astonishment. She settled that it had to be the former because the latter was too strange to contemplate. Phage became meek, her cranium drooping towards her pedes as she finished desperately. :All of it feels so real, Op. Every time I'm stabbed in a dream I feel it stab through me and I wake up with the pain. I can't elaborate enough how real it all is. I would ask if you had any concept of what that was like, but that seems rather insensitive, given all that you've lived through, doesn't it?:
:Primus, Phage.: Optimus Sent, his thought a breath of wonder that took her by surprise. She looked up, curious, desperate but still anxious. :You run from everything, including yourself!:
:That...wasn't the reaction I was expecting.: She Sent back, more than a bit puzzled.
:I try not to be too predictable. It can get one terminated.: For once, his dry humor left her baffled. Phage canted her cranium, her refined features squished together as Optimus turned sharply away from her and accessed an additional program, muttering to himself all the while. :Why didn't I realize it before? It has to be!:
Stunned by his aloof reaction, Phage asked cautiously. :Optimus...I can't believe I'm about to ask this, but - Are you alright?:
:I am functioning as well as can be, given our circumstances.:
Confounded by his behavior, Phage gaped at the back of his avatar as he busied himself by skimming through the new program window he had opened. :Definitely not the reaction I was expecting-at all, I might add. What are you doing?:
:Accessing self diagnostic.: Replied Optimus crisply.
One of her fine optical ridges arched high on her forehead. :How did we go from me getting interrogated about my nightmares and their potential to be Lazalt training programs too accessing self diagnostic?:
Prime's servos stilled between swiping through features within self diagnostic to give her a cheeky glance over his shoulder strut. :You mean to tell me you do not know why I opened self diagnostic?:
Phage bristled at the slight dealt to her intellect. :I presume you are attempting to backtrack the energy outbursts. They have been bothering you since the start of all this.:
Before she had even finished speaking, Optimus turned his attention back to the current screen and was absorbing the information contained therein. :That is correct.:
:But why? Why now? I thought you wanted to know if the nightmares are Lazalt training protocols:
:After hearing your relation of events, and seeing them for myself, I know for a fact that they are not training protocols for Made-to-Orders. In fact, the nightmares were the penultimate piece of the puzzle to what has been plaguing you: the energy outbursts, your passive rapid regeneration ability, it is all related to the same root cause. All of it. I just wish you had opened up to me about the nightmares. I wish I had pressed then. Moreover, I cannot comprehend why Ratchet did not say anything. He should have said something to me when the situation was of such significant magnitude!:
Baffled, Phage blinked, stunned all for half a nanoklik before she Sent, :What?:
Optimus turned fully around to address her, his large frame blocking the diagnostic window he had summoned from her view. In his optics shown a kind of awe she had not seen in his optics directed at her since Reactivation, when he first laid optics on the small, carbon-based organic alien creature that was hurt and lost in the Ark. :Training programs for M.T.O.s do not have you live out the lives of military generals, politicians, leaders, or even the life of the average solider. Do you think Sea Spray or any other Autobot received training programs that followed me through my optics?:
Her avatar gawked as the revelations sank in. :No...No, that would be foolish. They would be tutorials. You know, I've never actually seen an Autobot training video. But-What the hell are those then?: She demanded, pointing to the myriad floating files.
:Imprints.: Optimus said simply, glancing aside to the files, then closed them with an indifferent wave of his servo.
:Imprints?: Phage echoed as she stared after the windows as they disappeared. :What are imprints?: And there again, behind the battlemask, was the same secretive smile Optimus gave every so often. The one that crinkled his optics ever so slightly. But this one was extra special. This secretive smile held a unique gleam in his optics that was filled with the same wonder and awe that she could not comprehend was directed at her or why Optimus would be so enthused by any of her news.
:Amuse me.: Optimus Prime said suddenly.
:Amuse you?: Phage echoed incredulously.
:Yes. Back in the washracks, when Rumble and Frenzy were grilling you on your designation, you admitted that you were torn between Phage or Pandora. That you chose Phage because your face did not fit the latter designation.:
:Yes...: Concurred Phage slowly. :What does this have to do with imprints?:
:Patience, Phage. I am getting there. First, what did you mean by that?:
:What did I-Nothing. Just, I felt Pandora was a strong name fit for someone of equal mettle. That's all. Phage was easier, simpler.: Her optics squinted at him. :I don't see how this is related.:
The Prime's optics were intent on her, never wavering, and she felt the intensity of his stare was hyper aware of her and saw through her and into her soul. :How is the designation Pandora strong? You never explained that. The designation belonged to the first woman of Greek mythos,:: remarked Prime, understanding this as he drew from her own memory, ::which is a tragic telling. Furthermore, the designation does not mean 'first,' but 'all gifted.' Ironically, given the revelation of your dual outliner abilities the designation seems more suited to you now than ever before. But why is it strong?: Phage's avatar seized up of all agitated motion. Her optics grew round, her mouth parted. Between them passed an instant understanding that Phage had tried, and nearly succeeded, in slipping something important pass Prime as something less than. A breadcrumb trail that he had at last taken stock of. The look he gave her then was a surprisingly deferential attitude from one wily processor to the next. :Phage...What was the second half to the designation?: Her agitation became palpable. She shifted her weight and scrubbed at her face. Prime's avatar bloated with an aura of victory. His next Send was teasing, :You still have not told me what it is.:
:I don't see how this topic pertains to the imprints or why it is important at all. Why don't you just tell me what you found?:
:Poor misdirection tactics, Phage.: Optimus continued to heckle good-naturedly, then sobered up rather quickly. :Should I even continue to call you that? Or is it Pandora...?:
:Stop! Just...drop the subject, alright. The name doesn't matter!:
:You are getting flustered because it does matter. Significantly. And you do not want to acknowledge it.: Optimus replied stubbornly, his Sends becoming firm and his stare intense once more. :All of it, in fact: the energy bursts, the regeneration, especially the imprints. Especially that. I should have realized sooner. I suspected, of course.: Prime began to ramble, :But I had to confirm my theory. As it has proven true, I cannot comprehend why Ratchet kept it a secret.:
:What's true?: Snapped Phage. ::And what does Ratchet have to do with this?::
::Let me counter with an observation of your own: why has Ratchet resumed drinking? What would push him to return to such a dark habit?::
::I...cannot fathom. Stress?:: But when Optimus just shook his cranium in the negative, Phage fidgeted between her pedes.
::Ratchet has withheld vital information from high command and myself. Vital information about you.::
Her face crumpled up in anger and incredulity. ::Me? He's drinking because of me!? That is such a messed up accusation, Op!::
::I am not a gambling mech, but I could safely bet that Ratchet resorted to drinking to deal with a heavy conscious. I have the proof.:: Prime's optics bored into hers, challenging. Daring. Optimus Prime canted his cranium ever so slightly towards the self diagnostic window behind him. :If you want answers, you could have a look and see for yourself.: A sudden wave of fear swamped her as her attention jumped from Prime and then towards the hint of the window poking out around his frame, and back to Prime again. A war raged across her face, Optimus could see it clear as the sun. Micro tension flickered here and there, an optical ridge, a quirk at the corner of her mouth. Then, her features tanked as one would when hearing the knell of mourner bells. In an instant, the battle was over, and Optimus knew before she spoke what she had decided as she tried to backpedal from him, a step that would carry her in a desperate flight back to the Undersea if he allowed her. His mood soured almost immediately. :You cannot run from yourself, Phage!:
Her face contorted into an impertinent frown. :Just watch me!:
:How long?: Optimus challenged, bringing her to a stop before she could get going. :How much longer do you think you can keep going?!:
She ran her servos through her synthetic hair in an agitated fashion and fairly screamed in frustration. :The name doesn't fit me!:
:It does if you just let it.:
Phage blustered up. :You don't even know the full name! You don't know what you're saying!:
:Phage!: Optimus Sent, the authority and calm and understanding and love all contained in the undercurrents caused her to seize up. In the brief quiet, Optimus gestured towards himself. :I could not run from my designation. You cannot either. It is a part of you. You cannot run from this.:
Cautiously, Phage lifted her tentative gaze and found his. :What designation are you talking about?:
Unamused, he Sent sternly, :You know which one.: Her face grew lean at his response. Cautiously, he made a ginger step towards her. :I have only ever had two designations in my long life. I could not run from Optimus Prime no more than you can run from yours.:
:Op...: Posed Phage delicately, the edges of her Send stressed, and reflected in her optics. :What you are implying is impossible.:
:I know more about what is going on with your own body than you comprehend at this moment in time. I just want to help you. And for that, I need you to trust me. Please. Entrust me with the full designation. In return, I will share everything with you.:
Phage stuck her bottom lip out in a cheeky pout. :I don't need you to tell me. I can just look it up myself.:
Optimus shook his cranium. :You do not comprehend the enormity of my offer. I was not talking about the diagnostic report, but to that, I know you will not. You are running from your true designation and will not preform a deep scan on your own systems now that I have warned you, in fear of what you will find.: To the look she gave, Optimus followed up quickly. :I know you, Alo Ata. You are afraid of who you are. You have been for years. That is why you kept the designation Phage after learning it meant a trojan virus. You were and are afraid of what you are. I am here to tell you you do not have to be. You are not alone. Please, trust me with this. It is the final piece of this puzzle. We both need the answers to this. For once and for all.:
:Ooh.: Moaned Phage as she ducked her cranium to pinch the bridge of her olfactory and rub at her optics. :Why me?:
Rumble, Shrapnel, Soundwave and Megatron crouched low behind their respective, damage riddled engaged columns, shielding their craniums with their arms as laserfire ricocheted every which direction. The beams were not powerful, Megatron knew, not enough for one individual shot to seriously damage unless someone were foolish enough to get caught in a hailstorm of it. In addition to the ricocheting shots being a fools trap at worst and a pinning tactic at best, should one even avoid getting caught in the crossfire, the rebounding blasts would confuse and obscure the true location of his enemies from his visual. Because of that, he was not willing to break cover and charge down the hall.
"Oh, come on!" Wailed Rumble from near Megatron's pedes, where the minicon was pressed close to Megatron's larger frame for protection from the laser bursts and shielded the rest of his exposed half with his arms. "I thought only Optimus Prime knew that trick!"
"It was his staple, yes." Concurred Megatron with a low key growl. His attention narrowed dangerously, focusing across the hall on his Communications Officer. "Soundwave!" The telepath's cranium jerked around to Megatron, yellow visor flaring briefly. In the quiet exchange, Megatron jerked his cranium in the Autobot's direction, his mouth curling into a snarl. "Deal with them."
Soundwave simply nodded and slid down the engaged column, making himself as small as possible without activating his transformation cog or subspace drive. Kneeling in the corner, Soundwave stilled, visor dimming. A calm in the eye of the storm.
Phage shuffled from pede to pede, embarrassed, as she glanced between Optimus Prime and around the mindscape. :It's a silly thing.:
Optimus was the measure of patience. :Somehow, I do not think it is.: Phage continued to shuffle uneasily, tugging anxiously at her braid of synthetic hair. :Please, Phage. I need you to trust me.:
:I do.:
:Then tell me what it is. And its significance to you. Why are you hiding from it?:
::I thought you already knew what was going on.::
::Do not smart off at me! I want to help you, Phage!:: Thundered Optimus, then calmed. ::I have a very good idea of what is going on, but I want all the pieces. All of them. And for that I want you to trust me, like you use to, Phage. Before everything went wrong. Before Ratchet's apparent deceit. Before the cyber-ascension. I was under the impression you missed the rapport we use to have.::
::I do. Of course! It's just...I can't comprehend what would drive Ratchet to do what you're claiming. Or why it has to do with me. What could be so terrible?::
::If it is as I all suspect, then it is not all terrible. I could hypnotize on Ratchet's actions all day, but it would be best to question when when we return. Until then, please...the designation. The full designation.::
She dodged about uncertainty, mulling over his request. Finally, far above her and at the back of the cavernous Undersea, an acidic green will-o-wisp sparked. The burning flame bounced about, as though it were the pensive hand of a writer, before it set to its task. Optimus Prime's attention fixed to the wisp as it began to carve out the first letters against the darkness.
P-
Subconsciously, Phage's digits carded ceaselessly through her braid until she had undone the bottom half. All the while, her focus was intense on Optimus Prime's avatar. :What is its significance? Why am I hiding from it?:
-A-N-
:The name was there when I activated.:
-D-O-R-A
Optimus's attention riveted to her, his optics round and wide and full, once more, of that certain wonderous emotion Phage could not place the why of, and it only made her worry more. :Two years ago? When I rescued you from the Lazalt?:
:Yes.: Admitted Phage. :The moment I activated it was there. Burned into the back of my mind. It seemed to...Call to me. If that makes any sense. Taunting. I couldn't shake it, but I felt I couldn't acknowledge it either. The name is all important and grand and...I didn't fit it. Part of me was afraid that it had something to do with the Lazalt, so, I...tried to deny it. But, every day I have feels like I've been cutting off my own limbs.:
Prime's optics jumped back to the dark sky of the Undersea where the will-o-wisp had began to write out the first letters of the second half of the designation. It seemed a small eternity that the wisp took to carve out the first syllable...
E-
:I can never shake it.:: Phage elaborated further. Almost painfully, as if admitting this was a deep and difficult secret to tell. :No matter how far down I try to bury it, it rises back up with a vengeance.:
-N-
:As with the energy bursts?:
-D-
Pensive reflection captured Phage's features as she thought over Prime's suggestion. :Something similar to that. Yes.:
-U-R-
:All of this, I must sound mad.:
:Maybe to some. Most. But, not to me. Not at all. I understand completely.:
Phage's optical ridges crinkled together. :You... do?:
:More than you realize.:
-U-S
Optimus Prime's focus was on the full designation, now written in the night sky of the Undersea for him to fully see...Pandora Endurus.
Just then, a unique brand of excitement took root in Optimus Prime that Phage had never witnessed before and could not grasp the why of. She grew silent, studying him intently, but could not breach the ancient confines of those sturdy walls to understand him. As her only outlet for her nervous energy, her digits still carded through her now loose synthetic hair. :Optimus...?:
:Designations have an interesting cultural importance to my people. Did I ever say? They reveal a clear, true facet of your character. Some Cybertronian poets would romanticize that a designation is a window into your spark. I wonder then, what does this designation, that has been calling to you, your real designation that you have been hiding from, what does it mean? Truly and wholly? You told me the importance of the first half. Pandora to you means 'the first.' What of the second half? What does it all mean together? Could you explain why the designation is strength:
After a long contemplative moment in the mindscape, Phage's Send came, and when it did it came as a quiet admission. :The significance of the whole name...the meaning behind Pandora Endurus is, 'the first too endure,' or, 'the first of us to endure.': The Prime's optics dropped from the designation illuminated in Phage's Undersea and fell upon her in question as she elaborated at great length. Her digits picked at the silver strands of her hair with less agitation and with a ponderous, innocent manner. :Endurus is... so important. The title draws from humanity's tenacity to endure through any and everything thrown our way: through famine and war, hardship and prosperity, plagues and near extinctions, to our more private hardships day-to-day...forces great and small. Humanity is young by Cybertronian standards, but we have survived so much in such a sort amount of time and will continue to endure for long into the future, no matter the odds set against us. It is inspiring. It is in the name of humanity's spirit that Endurus is derived. Combined with Pandora, what else could the full name be but strength?:
:Endurus is a title?:
Phage blinked owlishly at him and responded impatiently. :Yes, yes, of course. What else could it be?:
A feverish excitement came over the whole of Optimus then. A genuine and rare glee stealing over his optics and shining through the whole of his face. He turned his overwhelming excitement on her. His Send cracked with a laugh. :I knew it! And it is still hard to believe!:
Baffled, Phage Sent, :Well you have certainly been bragging that you do. But what, I cannot say.:
:Phage!: Optimus barked with a laugh. :You're a Prime! A Prime of Earth!:
Phage blinked back hard. On a list of things she had expected, his announcement did not even register on the bottom of the list. :What?:
In three long strides Optimus's avatar was on her. Phage gasped as Optimus seized her up with with his giddy energy and spun her around once, declaring over and over again with a wild, abandoned laugh. :You are a Prime! You are a Prime, Phage! The Lazalt manufactured you as a Prime!:
:What?: She echoed again in mounting shock and disbelief. Then, certain she was beginning to sound like a parrot and worried about that, she added hastily, :I can't be a Prime! I'm not Cybertronian!:
Optimus sat her back on her pedes but refused to let go of her shoulders. :You have all the signs!:
:Signs?!:
:I said I would explain!: Optimus Sent in a rush, his whole avatar vibrating with his zeal. While he kept one servo tightly on her, the other gestured in abrupt motions. :Where do I start? How...? Imprints! Yes, there! Your nightmares are imprints! Imprints are psychic impressions impressed upon the Matrix when any mech comes into contact with it. I mentioned to you before that the Matrix contains imprints of Cybertron's previous Prime's whose experiences and wisdom I draw upon for guidance. Your imprints are of the same caliber-perfect, undistorted lens for which you may view history through the optics of your predecessors and learn from their mistakes and victories.:
:That, just...I- Why, why the hell do I have imprints? Of Earth's prominent whose-who!? That doesn't make any sense! The Matrix was with you while everybody was in stasis on the Ark! It never left the ship for four million years! The Matrix couldn't have imprints of humans! And I don't have the Matrix! You know that!:
:I do.: Admitted Prime. The grin that reached his optics must have been wide and denta-flashing beneath his battlemask.
:But-:
In his feverish excitement he cut her off. :Your passive regenerative ability – The Matrix grants me that gift too! And more! You know the Matrix grants me the ability to heal and grant life.:
:I can't do those things!:
:You have yet to try.:
:...!:
:The energy outbursts.: Continued Prime. :You were suffering them because you were not fully formatted for your function! You were having a short! Taking my spark helped reignite the process, completing what should have already been. And the designation! Pandora Endurus! You said it was there, burned into your brain module upon your activation. The same was true for me! Only that it happened to me after I was reconstructed during the First Siege of Iacon. Upgraded from my civilian frame to warrior class. When I was brought back online, the designation Optimus Prime was seared into my brain module. I could not escape it no matter how deep I buried myself in my duty. I carried the designation Orion Pax for some time after that, until I could deny the calling no more. Destiny found me and I was forced then to follow the call.:
:..Optimus, I...: The Send trailed off with Phage shaking her cranium, unable to fully process or express her thoughts.
:Pandora Endurus...: Sent Optimus Prime as he tested the designation carefully, studying it this way and that until, finally, it had passed his scrutiny. :The First to Endure. It is a beautiful and strong designation fit for the first of a new linage! There could be no title better suited for Earth's Prime's than the Endurus!:
:But...: Sent Phage yet again and all in a daze. :All that, the imprints, the energy bursts, the designation as you describe... I would need a matrix. You have thee Matrix. I just took that from your frame in the battle, I don't have it! You know that! None of this makes sense! I cannot be a Prime!:
:You are not.: Concurred Prime flippantly, a roguish glint in his optic. :You are an Endurus. You said so yourself.:
Phage blustered up. :How can you make light of this? I am no 'Endurus' of Earth! That's-it's ridiculous! The title itself is meaningless and without power!:
:It does not have to be that way forever.:
:Ugh!: Raged Phage, frustrated with the turn of events and Prime's uncharacteristic ecstatic mood, and buried her face in her servos. :There has to be another explanation!:
:Phage...Humor me.: Optimus Sent. She peered between her digits to glimpse the same warm smile in his optics. :Why do you think I opened diagnostic?:
:To backtrack the energy outbursts, clearly.: She Sent impassively. : We've already covered this!:
:We've been riding on an outburst while reformating, and it isn't fading, is it? The energy is still flooding your circuits. You feel it, Phage?:
:Of course I do! It's like being hyped up on too much caffeine while listening to dark metal orchestra.:
Optimus belted out a rare laugh. :It burns, doesn't it? This...energy, is potent and wild. A raw, untouched well of energy. By comparison, Matrix energy is so refined. Reserved, even. I have to coax the Matrix energy forth to do anything, but yours...it leaps and bounds eagerly at the slightest chance to be used and show off.:
Her servos fell away from her face as the reality of what Optimus had Sent dawned on her. Phage openly gawked at Prime. At length, she managed to Send with a hesitant and cautious edge, :I... have my own matrix?:
The exhilarate sparkle would not leave his optics. He shifted aside, permitting her view of the diagnostic window he had pulled open earlier. With a wave of his avatar's servo the window flew across the way and halted in front of Phage. Carefully, she glanced at Prime, who gestured for her to look with a nod. Full of apprehension, she glanced, and quickly looked away. Antsy, she closed her optics, exhaled and looked again. She found the diagnostic window displayed the internal workings of her chassis and quickly scanned the readout. A fuel pump, spark, air compressors...
Her cranium popped up, flabbergasted at what she had seen. Her optics locked briefly with Prime's. :I have a matrix chamber?: She gushed, flabbergasted, and did a double take. :I have a matrix chamber!: She confirmed for herself as she performed a third take. On the third, her servo flew to her mouth and stayed there as she just stared and stared at her own self diagnosis that displayed a very clear matrix chamber safely tucked away behind her spark chamber, hidden from view.
:You have a Matrix chamber.: Concurred Optimus Prime. :And within it, you have your own matrix. That is what has been empowering you. Your regeneration stems from that-Primus, Phage. It is what has saved you from phase rot! Your matrix is the cause of the energy outbursts, the cause of the designation Pandora Endurus burned into your processes-It has Chosen you.: She kept gawking at the readout. Optimus brushed loose strands of her hair behind her audio. :You do not have to keep running, or hiding. You can come into the light, Pandora Endurus.: Phage just kept staring at the readout, mouth agape and servo over her mouth. Gradually, the feverish excitement slowly eeked out of him when Phage was silent too long. Optimus prodded gently, :Phage?:
:Sorry.: She Sent dully. :I feel like you've just announced I have a benign cancer. This is...I...: She became lightheaded. :This is...impossible.:
:Nothing is impossible, Phage, merely improbable.:
:A matrix?!:
:Hm...Yes. There was a point during the War when Megatron poured Decepticon resources into spearheading research into photonic crystals. The fruition of their labor resulted in the Heart of Cybertron, a powerful photonic crystal that gave Megatron increased power and a rapid healing factor. He used to brag that the only difference between the Heart and the Matrix was undiscovered science.:
:Megatron has a matrix!?:
:In a loose sense of the word.: Optimus stressed. :He had the Heart. But he had to use the Heart to power the Nemesis just to leave Cybertron and chase us here, to Earth. Like the Nemesis, the Heart has been lost ever since.:
Phage grew quiet, having returned to staring at the readout. :The Heart didn't have imprints?:
:That is correct.:
:That is the only difference?:
:Megatron never created life with it. Nor could he heal others. And as far as I know, he never gained a designation from it.:
:But this...crystal.: she Sent delicately, careful not to use the word Matrix because it made her uncomfortable. :It has imprints of humans spanning thousands of years.: She tilted her cranium up to catch him in her view. :By your example, it doesn't sound manufactured. How is that? Why cyber-ascend me so that I can-What? House it? Where did it even come from?:
He shook his cranium in the negative. ::I do not have the answers you seek. However.:: Optimus Sent, his optics reflecting his sympathy and understanding to her plight, one only he could grasp the magnitude of. She looked up to him imploringly, and his large servos cupped her face and thumbed at her cheeks to sooth the rising anxiety and worries away. :I will make this promise to you, Phage: so long as you will allow me to share this road with you, I will help you to find the answers. I will never leave you.: He Sent, never once taking his optics off of her that were shining with ever increasing wonder.
:Why are you so excited about this?:
:Why?: Optimus Sent, surprised by her question. :I am not alone!:: His blunt admission left her speechless. ::Megatron's attempt with the Heart of Cybertron was just a pale shadow of what the Matrix truly is. What you have, whatever you chose to call it, it is the real thing. I can feel it. I can know it. I am enthused because, well...: He lent forward and pressed his forehead against hers. :I am not alone anymore. For once, a Prime is not alone. It is a sad accepted tradition that a Prime terminates before another is Chosen, and sometimes it takes the Matrix an age before it does so. Each true Chosen Prime is guided by the imprints within the Matrix. Just...just trying to relate that is...monumental. I cannot talk to anybody about what I experience as a Chosen. Nobody would understand. Worse, as you feared, I would come off as unhinged. I cannot have that in my position.: His Sends softened to a gentle, exhilarated tone. :Every time I think I have had a last first, your planet throws something new at me. Now, there's you.:
:Here's me.: Phage echoed dizzily.
Prime pulled back and viewed her critically. :Phage?: Optimus Sent worriedly, his thumb stilling. A wave of guilt washed over him. :You are in shock.:
Her Send was monotonous when it came. :I have been beat up, shot at, nearly blown up, assaulted, reformated and currently living through a live firefight. I don't have the energy to process any of this right now.:
Optimus stared at her, gauging, reevaluating his own excitement and came to an abrupt conclusion. He neatly packed it away and squared off, the warrior and leader, laser focused and determined. :I am sorry. You are correct. We do not have time for this. Not here. Not now. But I promise, once we are back at the Ark, and everything has settled down, I will explain everything. Every question you have, any advice I can give. What I cannot answer, I will help you hunt down the answers you require, if they can be obtained. ...You are not alone, Phage.: Reassured Optimus. :I am here.:
Phage had no words to express everything that she was going through. Instead, she closed her optics and leaned into the palm of his servo, as she placed her right servo over his. :Optimus...I...?: She opened her optics and almost immediately they wondered over his shoulder strut. Her optical ridges crinkled in confusion. Prime turned to figure out what had distracted her and saw only her aurora borealis thought patterns. The lights alternated in hue between magenta and purple. The bouncing points of her thoughts and the shades were absent, replaced by the flick of a fluffy cat's tail fading in and out between the hues, yellow glaring eyes, and the pompous gait of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Phage's features grew lean and hollow. :...How long have the patterns been replicating a cat?:. Optimus shook his cranium in the negative. :Why am I thinking of cats in a firefi-:. Abruptly her optical ridges shot up high on her forehead. :Oh, god! My early warning defenses!:
:What?:
:It's Soundw-Ahieeeee!: The scream ripped from Phage's avatar as she abruptly and violently pitched forward and hit the metallic surface. Still screaming, she was dragged with hideous haste across the Cybertronian firmament straight back to the cold oily oceans of her Undersea - far away from the security just offered in Optimus Prime's arms and the shadow of his city-sphere. Phage's slim digits desperately clawed at the surface for purchase, terrified of the fate awaiting her in the dark, shadowy depths of the Undersea.