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TRANSFORMATION Act V sc. ivIf You Want to Read This With All The Correct, Easier-to-Understand Formatting, PLEASE GO TO
It wasn't that Prime advertised his failure. But even the most oblivious of bots could see that he carried a new weight of guilt. They sensed it especially when he announced the new crackdown on femme-spark experimentation, in the wake of Scrapper and Perceptor's incapacitating accidents.
A team of engineers cast and fit new plating to the Contructicon's singed protoform, and while the Decepticon still moved with wincing tenderness, it was hoped that he would soon return to full function.
But Ratchet remained reticent about Perceptor. His spark was still not fully healed, even after a quartex. It sputtered weakly, almost as if it felt pain, in the offline scientist's carefully-monitored core.
The mechs of Cybertron worried, wondered, and gossiped; but no further information was forthcoming. And the En
TRANSFORMATION Act IV sc ivIf You Want to Read This With All The Correct, Easier-to-Understand Formatting, PLEASE GO TO
"That's it," said Hook with finality. "It'll work, or it won't; but there's nothing more we can do."
He turned to frown at the two Autobots who'd labored alongside him to refit the little Cassetticons, and crossed his arms. "Now, just to make sure we understand each other," he growled, "I don't want any problems, if these two frag your stupid bot's circuits, when he tries to incorporate them into his systems.
Wheeljack responded with a shrug. "I'm just hopin' I've configured the power adapters correctly, and that Rumble an' Frenzy here won't be blown to scrap when they get their first jolt o' Blaster's energy," he said. "No hard feelin's if that happens, either, got it?"
"All right, you two, time to transform," Ratchet commanded.
Their movements were much slower and more awkward than usual, due to the
TRANSFORMATION Act IV sc iiiIf You Want to Read This With All The Correct, Easier-to-Understand Formatting, PLEASE GO TO
Prime dropped the facemask he'd been holding, and ran stumbling across the room to his bondmate. He lifted her in his arms and cradled her to him. Then with tender hands, he touched the many welds that criss-crossed her light chassis, testing each seam's strength.
When he was satisfied that she was healing as well as could be expected, he let himself fall down onto her berth, and buried his face gratefully in her neck. Her smooth, cool plating felt strange against the untarnished sensors of his lips and chin. His new-found mouth opened in a soft, wordless cry of losing, finding, and relief.
"Optimus..." Gently, Elita pushed him away, and stared at his denuded face. For a long, long moment, she was silent. "Why?" she asked at last.
Prime's lips twitched in an awkward smile. "You think I look like an i
TRANSFORMATION Act V sc. iiiIf You Want to Read This With All The Correct, Easier-to-Understand Formatting, PLEASE GO TO
Prime might have chosen otherwise, if he had realized the true breadth of the 'other options' which the mechs around him were willing to explore. For even as the Autobot Commander and his longtime bodyguard conversed on the bridge, dozens of the craftier bots from both factions were toiling away in hidden rooms all across Cybertron.
Those mechs worked in secret, driven by an unspoken sense of shame. After uncounted eons of warfare, when battle-skill, power, and weaponry were the paramount measures of an individual's worth, it seemed disgraceful to want a transformer whose strength lay in creation and ingenuity instead. But still they strove, earnestly drafting and tenderly shaping shells that were decidedly feminine in appearance.
However, with the Key to Vector Sigma lost and the programming of the
Two HalvesA/N: THIS IS ENTIRELY CHROMIA'S FAULT! Next thing, she'll be getting me to write a blinkin' sparkling story in my universe, and then life as we know it will collapse...
THIS STORY IS NOT REAL, DOES NOT HAPPEN IN ANY TIMELINE, AND SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. I almost made it into a dream sequence, but there are only so many times you can get away with flogging that particular horse...
I just had to get it out of my system, because, as Chromia said it, her voice rising up at least a full octave, "Oh, he'd be such a woobie!" And I was like, "Yeah. They both would."
Here it is, warts and all. Warning for angst by the swimming-pool-full.
Optimus was dead, to begin with.
And to end with, too, whispered an insidious voice from within his mangled, aching spark. Wouldn't it be easier just to go out with him, not to have to face a life alone?
But he wasn't alone.
Elita-One curled against his frame, her arms wrapped tightl
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