Chapter 51
"…subsequently the facilitation of the relaying parallel isotopical carbon nullification synathesier is back on the decided upon schedule, however, there was a slight miscalculation which was due to Decepticon involvement damaging several of the components, namely the magnetising stabilising circuitry located in section five, sub-section twenty eight, subsidiary section seventy two, conduit thirteen, line one hundred and sixty four, I am happy to report that locating the damaged component, namely a loananatron surge circuit cut has increased the output of the entire unit by fourteen point six five nine eight two three percent, which I'm sure we can all find mutual satisfaction, however, Wheeljack and I, upon further investigation of the unit discovered several small defects in the malifaxation relays which we have begun the initial replacement of, most of you, I believe, would understand that such a unit can operate efficiently without a malifaxation relay running at peak output, however, as with all damaged parts, there is the heightened chance, namely nine point three six percent, of the corruption of such a damaged malifaxtion relay spreading outwards via the subsidiary motiliation tubing thus causing a catastrophic defragmentation resulting in an erasement of the entire unit's memory core, now, as I informed, Wheeljack and I are working to repair this, and once it is running at one hundred percent we will endevour to move onto the…"
The Prime sat down, and while on the outside looked completely enthralled and attentive, was actually aware of his internal chronometer clicking down the moments humans called seconds, then minutes, then hours. And then there it was, Perceptor had officially broken his record.
After a whooping three hours, twenty seven minutes and forty six seconds, Perceptor finished. And when Prime meant finished, what had actually caused a cessation in Perceptor's esoteric ramblings was Prowl interrupting in that polite way Prowl interrupted to point out that such a malifaxtion relay thingie mah jiggie wasn't going to repair itself while Perceptor stood there telling the officers' meeting it needed repairing. The scientist chuckled good naturedly, unaware he'd actually been "fobbed off" (another human term), excused himself and left.
Of course, now it was Prowl's turn, and that bot, logical or not, could waste time on mindless paperwork and reports. There was something about a security breech within some section near some other section that turned out to not be a Decepticon threat or some cheeky human adolescents out for a cheap thrill, but rather, a family of ducks had found their way in and made their home by a small pool of water that had leaked from one of the cooling pipes, this of course made Jazz "awwwww" and Beachcomber go off on a tangent about the damage their presence was doing to the Earth's eco-system, so how about we start our own little wild life conservation park, dudes, or at the very least, leave those little duckies be. Magnus offered his two cents, which as Magnus always was, was short, sharp and too the point, the point involving a particular disruption beam. There were a few unpleasant words spoken before Prowl pulled the meeting back on track. There were several reports from several other Autobots, Arcee came in and rambled about "sensitivity training" whatever the Pit that was. Then Ratchet, Primus bless him, gave a series of veiled threats about mechs not showing up to their maintenance reviews – this threat seemed directed at the Prime himself who seemed to shrink low in his chair. Ironhide gave a plea for more guns, and to increase the size of the guns they already had, this of course set off Red Alert who demanded that this be done as the Decepticons wouldn't waste time patting cute duckies and their families but were building giant weapons of mass destruction and while such weapons would not be located in some dusty part of the planet, they did, indeed, exist and the Autobots, if they wanted to survive, servos intact, had to take it seriously. Then there was Bumblebee who gave a concerning report on information he had obtained on a scouting mission about the expanse of a Decepticon base they thought had been shut down. Blaster asked for permission, then gave a big spiel about the importance of morale, in that he wanted to start an Autobot radio station dedicated to enjoyment and not who's sneaking up on who in what region and please keep this channel open for emergency calls only, this got Jazz "jawing" as Ironhide commented later to Prime, about a "movie night" where they would all waste a few hours watching bad human movies.
There were a few other points of interest that the Prime did take notice of, but generally it was just another boring meeting... but to the Prime, something seemed off, he couldn't put a servo on it, but he trusted his gut and his gut said something wasn't right.
Prime walked down the corridor towards his office, deep in his CPU still giving contemplation to this "wasn't right" sensation.
"Something on your CPU, lad?"
He turned and faced the old timer who was standing a few steps behind him.
"No, everything is fine Kup".
"You didn't seem fine in the meeting, seemed a little distant if anything".
"There's only so many times a mech can listen to such squabbles and mindless ramblings".
"Perceptor will be pleased he broke his record".
There was a hint of a smile in the Prime's optics.
"When I inherited the Matrix I didn't think long meetings and stacks of paper work would be such a heavy focus of the war".
"Wars are seldom fought on battlefields, son".
"Perhaps. But I have to wonder if Megatron is buried under the same mound with similar complaints from equally boring mechs".
"Well, something tells me Soundwave is a little short when it comes to descriptive and Megatron would just pummel Screamer to shut him up".
"…they have been quiet, lately, I don't like it when the Decepticon's are quiet, Kup".
"No, Lad, none of us in the know like it".
"Kup, this is a burden only few will ever know, and I am not glad I am part of that few, especially when Beachcomber starts harping on about ducks and Jazz wants to be able to screen Kung Fu Panda in the rec room".
"What harm can ducks and Pandas do, Optimus?"
"You weren't here for the Karate Kid debacle, ask Prowl about it".
"I'll have to do that, Lad".
He chuckled.
"Well, I best be off, Prime, I have a few things I need to look into, I'm planning on having a crack at Percy's record".
Prime gave a small laugh and bade the older mech a temporary farewell.
…wait, did he just call me Optimus?
Prime stood quiet for a moment in the hallway staring down after the grey elder.
Nah… just must of heard wrong.
The Autobot commander turned and headed back to his office.
He received greetings and pleasantries from any and all who past him in the corridors until he reached his office. Inside he discovered a naked femme sitting on his desk.
Not any naked femme.
The naked femme.
Pink, with accents of white and a hint of black and grey, with deep blue optics that welcomed him to more then just stacks of paperwork and digipads – which he noted were now strewn about the floors.
"Hello… Prime. Back from your meeting so soon?"
She spun around slowly and carefully with more intention then was needed, uncrossed her legs giving him a view he could have done without.
"Elite-One!"
He gasped, taking a step back until he knocked a vase off a pedestal that took pride of place next to the entrance. The vase fell; he spun around and caught it, before the priceless antique, the last surviving relic of a civilisation the Decepticons had destroyed, smashed on the ground. He looked sheepishly as he replaced it on its home.
"Ah… hah… ha… what are you doing here?"
"Oh, Optimus, you can be so cheeky at times. I like it".
She slid herself off the desk in a motion that was both alluring and disturbing.
She… she just called me Optimus!
The femme walked towards him and wrapped those long tapering arms about his shoulders and pressing her naked form against his, nuzzled her face into his neck.
"Oh, Optimus, I just needed to be with you, for just a small amount of time… take me here, now… before Chromia gets wind that I'm no longer in my office".
Prime pushed her backwards the force unravelling her slender arms.
"What?"
She asked, more out of annoyance that he would reject her then from any nuisance that she was physically chastised.
"What's going on?"
"What's it look like?"
She asked, irritation seeping into her tone.
"Primus! Op! I fight my way past that maniac Shockwave, I reprogramme the space bridge, I fight my way through 'Con guards, then sneak in here. Do you have any idea how paranoid that security officer of your's is? Red Alert's defences are insane! And for what? So you can push me off and play the my CPU is on the fritz game?"
This was a side of the femme commander Prime had never been seen before…
He was confused.
"I'm not…"
Not what? Not Prime? Not Optimus? Holy shit, what's going on?
"Prime, what's the matter?"
Elita's voice was suddenly calm, soft, gentle, she approached him again, with a concern that was juxtaposed by her bare form's once sexual overtones.
"I… I don't know… guess, guess I must just of bumped me old noggin'?"
Would Prime talk like that? Would he say that? She seems to be buying it.
"Do you want me to get Ratchet?"
Elita asked as she touched him tenderly on the upper arm.
"No… no. I should be okay, just need to get mah head down on that there berth and have a good old fashioned re-charge".
Okay, now you're pushing it, that's more like how Ironhide would jaw.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Yeah… maybe its best you do, we can finish this up later, there little lady".
She didn't seem annoyed, maybe a little suspicious. The kind of suspicious that ended with a visit from Ratchet. She smiled, picked up her armour, reattached it, then left, leaving behind only her scent.
"Wait…"
Prime muttered to himself.
"Ratchet… Prowl… Wheeljack…"
He paused.
"They're all dead".
Another pause.
He sat himself down in his… Optimus'… chair.
"Optimus is dead".
Something caught the attention of his optics. He picked up the didgipad and turned it over in his hands so the shiney mirror like back stared up at him. And in that mirror like back stared the face of Optimus.
"And I'm Optimus".
He whispered. He flicked the digipad to the floor where it joined its brethren and he rested his head down on the desk.
"I'm supposed to be dead".
--
Prime wasn't sure what time it was when he came out of recharge, his internal chronometer had been giving him issues since that meeting yesterday… was it yesterday? The banging on the door told him he was missed, he barked permission for whomever to enter and in walked Ironhide.
"Ironhide!"
Prime stood and walked to him, grabbing at his upper arms with his hands in a friendly gesture. He wasn't sure if Optimus was the kind to initiate a hug or if Ironhide was the type to accept it.
"I'm dead, Prime".
The weapons specialist stated rather bluntly.
"What are you talking about?"
Prime replied.
"I'm dead, Prime. Ratchet is dead. Wheeljack is dead. Prowl is dead. Brawn is dead. Windcharger is dead. Megatron is dead. Starscream is dead…."
He continued.
He paused.
"You are dead".
"Is… is this the Matrix?"
"No".
"But I'm Rodimus!"
"No. You're Optimus, and you're dead".
"No! I swear to Primus, I'm not Optimus Prime, I'm Rodimus Prime, I took over after Prime died".
"You lie".
"What?"
"No Autobot would give the mantle of leadership, the Matrix to a murderer, a usurper".
"WHAT?"
"Rodimus is a murderer. He murdered Optimus. He stole the Matrix. You are not Rodimus and you are not in the Matrix. You are Optimus and you are dead".
"No, that's insane! I can't be dead! If we were dead why are we talking!"
"Because".
"Because why?"
"Because you are Optimus and you are dead".
Ironhide's once bright blue optics dimmed and then they were black and the black oozed from now empty sockets, the ooze dribbled down his face, and as it passed the plates of metal they rusted, the rusted plates gave way to reveal swiftly degrading circuits and pistons and other internal mechanisms that Rodimus did not know the names of. The ooze soon had spread all over the once friendly old timer until there was nothing but dust, and that dust blew away, the voice that was no so foreign to his audios whispering hoarsely:
"You are Optimus and you are dead".
He was back at his desk, the puddle of black ooze gone, the dust gone a knock at the door and Ratchet was standing before him.
"You are Optimus and you are dead".
"No! I'm Rodimus! DO YOU HEAR ME! I'M RODIMUS PRIME AND I'M ALIVE!"
"No. You are Optimus and you are dead".
Prowl was there now, holding up a rusting finger, the ooze smearing itself over his form as well, the accusations against who he really was coming thick and fast.
"Rodimus is a murderer. He killed Optimus. You are Optimus and you are dead".
Wheeljack had no mouth to move but his head fins flashed with black light as he joined in the cold hearted statements.
"You are Optimus and you are dead".
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Rodimus, who was, Optimus – for all intents and purposes of this rut, screamed, he gripped at his head trying to make it stop, it didn't, the bodies of those once brave Autobot soldiers continued to dissolve, continued to whisper, he ran past them to the door, he got out into the corridor and ran. The voices of those around him echoed towards his audios.
He came around the corner and bumped into a naked Elita One. She fell back, her body exposed in a way no woman should be exposed in public. She looked up at him, pointed her finger and whispered:
"You are Optimus and you are dead".
The ooze came from her optics and spread over her body, dissolving all but the feminine nakedness that he'd once so often fantasised about. He turned to run in the other direction and found himself facing Arcee, naked, and accusing him of the same. He pushed her out of the way; she slammed into the wall and slid down, still calling those awful words after him.
Naked femmes lined the corridors, their bodies mocking him with their sexuality, a sexuality he'd once so often desired. The mechs stood pointing, the same comments over and over and over.
You are Optimus and you are dead.
"NO! I'M RODIMUS!"
He dropped to the floor, his head against the wall, his hands on his head, rocking gently back and forward, his forehead knocking against the wall, tap, tap, tap, tap.
"I'm not Optimus. I'm not dead".
"No. You're not Optimus, and you are not dead".
"What?"
"You're not Optimus and you're not dead".
"What?"
"You deaf?"
Rodimus, who was Optimus, turned to face who had spoken, who had said what he had been thinking, what he knew, what he had started to scream.
"Sparkplug!"
"Yip".
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to get you out".
The naked femmes and the oblivious mechs were approaching him now, standing around him like mindless zombies, uttering the same chant over and over again.
"Rodimus, come with me".
"But they'll…?"
"They can't do shit unless you let them. Now tell to get the hell out of your way, I don't' have all afterlife to help you, you know".
Rodimus found some strength, mainly from the sudden appearance of someone who knew he wasn't Optimus and that he wasn't dead.
"Get the frag out of my way, you whore".
He growled at Elita.
She stepped to the side, her voice still chanting, but she, and the others, didn't follow.
--
"Look out mountain? What is this, some sort of Christmas Carol slag?"
"Hey, don't blame me, this is your hallucination".
"I'm wigging out?"
"Well, that's certainly one way to put it".
"What's going on, Sparkplug, are you really Sparkplug?"
"Maybe, like I said, its your hallucination".
"I don't particularly like this, how do I make it stop?"
"I don't know".
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"Well…"
"Oh no, stop, wait, let me guess, this is my hallucination".
Sparkplug touched his nose. Rodimus sighed and slumped into a cross legged position.
"Rodimus, there's a part of you that is Optimus and a part of Optimus that is you".
"But Optimus is dead".
"He is. And so am I, but Spike is half of me, but he's alive".
"Are you saying Optimus is my dad?"
"No, of course not, that would be too simple".
"I like simple, mind you, life is not simple, so I guess that's my big problem. Okay, realisation over, can I go home now?"
"Doesn't work like that, and you're wrong".
"What doesn't work and what am I wrong about?"
"You're not here to have an epiphany, and you're wrong about life. It is simple. It's the crap people throw into it that makes it complicated".
"So being Optimus, being dead, being in some dream wig out world, that's a complication".
"Only if you want it to be".
"I thought you were here to help. This isn't helping".
"That's because you're not thinking simple".
"Okay, why are you here, to help me, right?"
"Yes".
"And since I'm here, being Optimus and being dead, I obviously need help".
"Yes".
"Of course, I don't' know why I'm here and why I'm Optimus and why I am dead".
"Yes".
"But Prime is dead so that's one issue addressed".
"Yes".
"And since Prime is dead that would mean Prime is in the Matrix and this is not the Matrix and that would mean I'm not dead".
"Yes".
"So, where the hell am I?"
"Where the hell do you think you are?"
"Well, its not the Matrix, that much I'm sure. And since I'm not dead, this can't be the Pit".
"Yes".
"But you're dead, and humans who are dead don't go to the Matrix, so again, more evidence this is not the Matrix".
"Yes".
"Am I in my own brain? You said this was a hallucination".
"Yes and yes".
"So, how do I get out, you said its not about a realisation".
"Yes".
"So do I have to do something, figure something out?"
"Yes".
"This whole fragging debacle started with ghosts and hauntings and crazing goings on".
"Yes".
"You say Yes a lot, don't you?"
"Yes".
"And all those hauntings and stuff – Kup said it was because of the Decepticon Matrix".
"Yes".
"Am I in the Deception Matrix?"
"Yes".
"But then if you have to die to go to the Autobot Matrix then how am I, not being dead and all, being in the Decepticon Matrix? And for the matter, how does a dead human end up in the Decepticon Matrix?"
There was no answer from the deceased mechanic.
"What's that?"
Rodimus pointed over towards the horizon where a large ball of red light burned in place of a sun.
"Is that the centre of this Primus forsaken thing?"
"Yes".
"Will I find my answers, or at least a way out of here there?"
"Yes".
"And here I was starting to think you weren't helpful".
"Rodimus, I can only give you so many answers about so many things in so many ways. I came here to help you because you have my son with you".
"So you really are Sparkplug".
"Yes".
"Sparkplug?"
"Yes".
"You won't be going with me to the centre of that thing?"
"No, Rodimus. We are both on the outskirts of the Decepticon Matrix, if I venture in any further with you, I will be lost to it".
"Do I run that risk?"
"Sometimes the only way into a place is the only way out, and sometimes, if you go into a place, the door locks from the other side".
"I could get locked in here?"
Sparkplug nodded.
"Well, I guess I better get on my way, anything's better then being followed by naked femmes who are rusting and accusing me of being someone I'm not".
"Rodimus, the minds of those that reside here, that make this place what it is, they can see into yours, they know what upsets you, what frightens you, and they will use that against you".
"I'm not afraid of anything".
"Of course not".
And Sparkplug was gone.
Rodimus pondered what had been said, but only for a minute and only half heartedly, his way was forward now, towards the centre and towards hopefully escape and not entrapment.