capitalh | no one mourns the wicked

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no one mourns the wicked

Who: Optimus Prime and AUTOBOTS
Where: The Autobot campground.
When: The evening/night after the dance off.
What: Orion Pax has been restored to his past and future self. Optimus Prime is NOT HAPPY. Also, very very tired.
Warnings: Injuries, intense robot ass devastation. Angry dad. Angry mom.

Optimus Prime, unlike Orion Pax, leaves no time for argument or complaint. After he's finished dealing with Megatron, he orders the Autobots to roll out, provided assistance to injured comrades where necessary. He takes no assistance for himself.

Which is stupid, because after days of starvation and torture and minus the burst of power from the Matrix he was utilizing just before, he is extremely fucked up. It's less obvious that he's on his last legs than it might be with some bots, but he is very injured and trying hard to pretend that he isn't. He drives back to base by his own means, and doesn't speak but to give the occasional order until they are there.

He wants everyone safe and tended to and organized, and he needs to have a talk with just about everyone on the team, and besides that he needs to catch up with everything he hadn't been paying attention to as Orion Pax...he doesn't see how he could possibly take a rest quite yet, there is too much stuff to do, and if he made it this far he can make it a little bit father.

More than tired, though, he is angry. He's angry at Megatron, angry at some of his team, and angry at himself. He doesn't pause to talk to anyone once they get back to camp, and immediately starts to ineffectually try to organize things with as few words as possible.

[Feel free to tag in as someone at any point in this, including later in the night or the next day. He will probably pass out in the medibay within the hour, though. Either that or Ratchet will get him.]

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This is so frustrating. Rodimus is clearly regretting the things he's done but...none of it was even remotely acceptable. Being sorry isn't enough, not when they are in a war, not when there are lives at stake. It hurts a little, even which how angry he is, to make this worse for him. But Rodimus needs to learn.

"I understand that you did not intend ill," he says, maintaining a forced control of his tone. "However, such is the risk of leaked information - you cannot always see how something might be utilized until the damage is done. If you had had the rest of the Autobots on your side, we could have been prepared for what information would be given. Arcee might have known what to do."

Optimus strains to get up, more fully, venting heavily. It's obvious how weak he still is, how extensive the damage done was. He doesn't blame Rodimus for this, but it is a very physical representation of what can go wrong.

"She could have found the Conquest after I was discovered missing, had she known how she could locate you."

Those days of misery don't mean much to Optimus Prime, not after how long and hard his life has been thus far. But to Orion Pax they had been devastating.

It’s early the next morning when Drift notices that Ratchet’s not in the medibay, or at least not anywhere nearby, and he takes the opportunity to slip out of the ship. Hopefully unnoticed. Not that he’s exactly stealthy about it either – his injuries have been attended to, although they’re still far from being completely better, so his gait is stiff and awkward as he moves.

But he’s determined to find Optimus – to seek him out rather than the other way around. The last thing he wants is to be is an inconvenience on top of everything else.

Still, walking across the base wears him down quickly. The previous night had been rough – Drift had been in and out of consciousness for most of it, and there’re still sharp points of pain across his body. Soundwave’s attacks had been vicious, and Drift had taken the brunt of them. Even so, he finds himself more emotionally drained than anything - almost sick with guilt now that everything’s settling down.

When he finally does spot Optimus, Drift hesitates in his approach. He’d repeated everything he’d wanted to say over and over again before he left, but…now that he’s here…None of it feels right. The words sound rehearsed, even in his thoughts, and Optimus deserves better than that.

He straightens himself up before walking closer, and tires to maintain a careful distance when he speaks. “Commander...?”

Magnus can hardly speak against Optimus on this matter, considering he had done the exact same thing after the last fight with the Decepticons, but it's also going to take more than that to get him to back down on this matter. He lets the Forge set gently on the floor, managing to stand a little straighter and doing his best to hide any sign of additional pain.

"I believe Ratchet's efforts would be of greater help treating those with more serious injuries than myself. I assure you, I can manage until he has seen to the worst of our number." He didn't say outright that he felt Optimus fell in the latter category, but the implication was there.

Optimus can't really argue with that part. He is presently on his feet and conscious due to some kind of pixie dust and nothing else. Almost every plate on his body creaks when he moves, and his torso has been beaten the point of cracking metal in places. There is a hairline fracture running up the side of his face plate.

He feels it, too. He feels awful. But his processor feels so much worse that he's almost forgotten how much his body hurts. All he can think about is bringing some order to this situation, and then maybe sitting down.

"I will report to Ratchet after I have..." He looks around, with bleary optics. "When...everyone else is...where they need to be."

At the sound of Optimus' slowed speech Magnus' expression dropped, legitimately concerned for his commander. They'd been in dire straights before, but it had been a very long time since he had last seen Optimus this frayed, this physically and mentally drained. He had to get Optimus to the medibay before he crashed.

"With all due respect, sir, it would be irresponsible for you to pursue any sort of labor at this point, physical or otherwise. The best way to help the others now is to ensure Ratchet is able to complete his work as quickly and efficiently as possible. I'm certain he would agree that your health is of greater importance than whatever tasks you have determined require immediate attention." If anyone could get Optimus to actually sit down and rest it would be the medic, and Magnus was perfectly willing to guilt Optimus to the medibay if that's what it took.

Optimus honestly doesn't really know what he's hoping to accomplish, even, after what he's already done. The few orders he gave are perhaps useful, but he seems to have imagined some kind of followup action to them that basically amounts to staying on his feet until everyone else is off their feet. It is a deeply irrational state of affairs, and even without intervention he would probably not be staying on his feet for long.

He nods, like he's considering that, but then looks at the Forge.

"Yes. But do...we have a secure location that we might put the Forge of Solus Prime?" He blinks tiredly. "We cannot...allow that to be compromised again."

If this is absolution, Arcee's not quite sure she's ready for it. She doesn't quite know how to react to so genuine and warm -- for Optimus, anyway -- a relief from her duties, and she buckles under it, her optics dimming. She's not sure what to say to that, in what context to take his words. There could be layers and layers of meaning, or there could be very little to it at all.

Things were supposed to be easier once Optimus came back.

"Thank you," she says, and she does mean it. "It's...good to have you back, sir."

She means that too, but differently. It's too hard to sort out all the tangled tendrils of feeling about Optimus and Orion and who she'd missed more, who and what she misses now and why. It's not for here or now. There are more important things to worry about, she tells herself. That's an armor, in and of itself.

"Now that you're back," she says then, although the choice of words doesn't seem quite right, but she straightens up again, military discipline always an easy fallback, "maybe you can debrief us on what happened with Unicron." Orion hadn't known anything about it, and getting the Matrix back had seemed a bigger concern at the time.

"It wasn't as if I wanted to!" he bursts out, growing increasingly frantic. "The Decepticons, they... they are my charges as much as his, and Megatron was not doing right by them. I was desperate, I needed to do something! As a fellow leader, surely you of all people can understand that." He tucks his head down, keeping his stance low and non-threatening, and peers up at Optimus with wide optics. "Besides, in a way you really have me to thank for the successful return of the Matrix to its rightful bearer, so alls well that ends well, right?"

Primus. He is as stressed about Unicron as he is about everything else, if not more so. It was months ago, now - so much time to act lost. That damned Megatron has really ruined everything.

He sounds very weary talking of this.

"I came face to face with Unicron - I intended to use the Matrix's power to destroy or disarm him. I do not know what would have followed."

Ironically, perhaps something similar to what ended up happening anyway. But he has never used it that way before.

"But I was followed...by Megatron." The angry in his spark easily rises to the surface again at that, showing powerfully in his optics. It's not as if he hasn't been angry at Megatron plenty of times before, but there is something ragged and raw about the fury he has now - anger without the resignation of the years.

"He took that moment of vulnerability as an opportunity to pry the Matrix from my chest. I can only assume that the planet I sought to protect was left to be consumed."

Arcee doesn't know why she expected Unicron to be an easier topic, but the weight of what Optimus says hits her all at once and she slumps, looking hopeless. She's close enough to the berth to wrap her hand around the edge of it and she leans against it, heaving air out through her vents.

"I didn't think -- oh, Primus." She looks a little sick; she'd known Megatron had interfered in the worst of ways, but she hadn't ever imagined he'd done so when Optimus was so close. She should have, though. She should have known. "So Unicron's...still out there. Somewhere. Because of Megatron."

She looks angry now, too; Optimus's anger is something she can sympathize with, something she shares to a degree, although it could never be so personal or run so deep for her. But it wasn't that long ago that she had attacked Megatron outside city hall, fueled by rage and spite and bitter upset for what he'd done to Orion, to all of them; if there's one thing she has no trouble understanding, it's that.

"Through some wonder he must have escaped Unicron presence without being destroyed, and - without realizing the effects the loss of the Matrix would have - attempted to take me captive."

Optimus finally looks up, towards the heavens, some piece of that anger replaced with terrible melancholy.

"Through some trick of destiny, Unicron still lives. And I believe that this planet - Earth - is his next target. Soon enough after that...it will be Cybertron itself."

Watching Optimus try and get up, struggling against his many injuries drives home Rodimus' guilt further. He would like to crawl into a hole and die, please and thank you.

Even still, if it were anyone else lecturing Rodimus on the details of how and why what he did was in very poor judgement, he would tell them go fuck themselves in a nanokilk, but considering it's not anyone else, he keeps his mouth shut until Optimus finishes.

"Forgive me if I'm not particularly confident in the likelihood of high command doing what needs doing," Rodimus says with an undisguised note of bitterness. Arcee would have never let him go in the first place had he told her his plan...nevermind that his plan had completely fallen apart. It was the principle of the thing.

"Besides...It's easy to say what should be done when you're not actually there."

Rodimus doesn't intend that statement as a jab at Optimus but it ends up sounding like one and he doesn't bother correcting himself.

Arcee grips the edge of the berth a little more tightly, shaking her head. It's hard not to be angry right now, and more than that, it's...easy. It's easier than being this confused mess, anyway.

"At least we're here," she says, anger making her voice fierce. She meets Optimus's gaze for the first time since she walked in, her optics bright and hard. "We'll stop him this time, Optimus. You're not alone this time."

Focusing Unicron instead of the unspoken tension between them is easier. If this were Orion, Arcee might have reached for his hand -- but things are different, how she doesn't know, but they are, and she hesitates now.

Both of those statements are somewhat insulting, and Optimus is not in the mood to be as good about tolerating that kind of crap as he'd usually be. There is no sudden flash of anger as his optics narrow - more like, for a few moments, he tries a little less hard to force his emotions into check.

"Do you doubt my ability to do what is necessary, then? Are you really so arrogant as to assume that you know better?"

His voice is a rough growl - he doesn't raise his volume, but he's rarely needed to in the history of his command.

"You underestimate the burden of command, and to so willingly make such a task harder for your fellow bot demonstrates not only selfishness, but a pivotal weakness of spark. Arcee had the weight of the world placed on her shoulders regardless of her own desires, and you disrespected both her as your commander and teammate, but me as her appointer."

"This is no minor betrayal you have taken part in, Rodimus. And you will be penalized accordingly."

Optimus has spent most of his time recently in the medibay as well, but it's only now that he has been out and about a bit. Checking on criminals, evaluating resources, the like. He is still looking to be in quite poor condition, but he's recovering. He is all too eager to be as busy as he'd like.

When Drift approaches, he looks to him with a cool, distant expression, like he is in business mode and isn't in the mood for any messing around. He is still walking with a limp.

"Drift," he replies. It's obvious Drift has something to say, and he's going to let him.

He looks back at her, and then down at one of his hands. He seems less certain than her about that. He's glad that she doesn't try to get any more familiar than she has been, honestly - he is more vulnerable that way that he'd like. Ancient wounds feel like they've been torn open anew.

"...I am uncertain about my initial tactic. The full loss of the Matrix seems less viable than it had before. I had...not expected to return, but this absence, if anything, has proven to me how much my presence is still needed."

Optimus is no so convinced. But there is something about those assertions that interests him.

"And what would you say that he was doing incorrectly?" Megatron is a lot of things, but a poor commander is generally not one of them.

Magnus glanced down the the Forge, doing some quick thinking. The sooner Optimus' concerned were put to rest, the better chance of convincing him to see Ratchet.

"The storage lockers aboard my ship are outfitted with additional security to transport confiscated equipment. The Forge should be safe enough there until we can determine a more permanent solution." It wasn't perfect but it would certainly do for now. He could hardly imagine the Decepticons launching an attack on their base tonight.

"I will secure the Forge once I've seen you to the medibay, sir."

Slowing down is going to mean that he really has to stop and think about everything that's just happened, and he isn't looking forward to it. He presses a hand over his optics.

"Very well, Ultra Magnus." Progress, sort of. "I must speak with Ratchet, at any rate."

"Of course, sir." Magnus replied with a nod, lifting the hammer again in preparation to follow Optimus to the medibay.

"If you would like, I can compose a prioritized list of our most pressing concerns while you are otherwise occupied. It can be ready for your review once Ratchet has cleared your injuries."

He's pretty much been keeping such a thing on hand since he arrived at earth, it wouldn't take much effort to update and annotate for Optimus.

The stark admittance that he'd never intended to survive in the first place, in spite of the conversation they'd had before he'd left -- it weighs heavily on Arcee, and the fierce anger drains partially from her face. Arcee hadn't even been in command very long. If he'd never returned, what would have happened to the Autobots then?

"We'll find another way," Arcee says, the firmness of her tone surprising even her. It's full of more conviction than she is right now. "There's always another way, Optimus. And I -- we can't afford to lose you again, not now."

He looks at her then, his optics distant, but searching. They are both aware of the conflict, here. It's an unspoken truth that lingers between them uncomfortably.

"...The inhabitants of Earth have diverse and useful skills. If we are able to communicate effectively with the local government, I believe they will aid us in protecting their planet from this threat." He vents, slowly. "I can only pray that they heed us. My encounter with Unicron has likely only given him a taste for my destruction."

"It won't happen, not on my watch."

Arcee's conviction only grows as she speaks, unfolding from within itself, and she sounds earnest and determined, if not the slightest bit desperate. Now things seem more grim than ever, somehow; but whether he's Orion or Optimus, whatever the nature of their relationship, Arcee needs him here. She knows that much.

"I swear, Optimus, it's not going to happen. The people on this planet won't just sit by and let Unicron consume them. They'll work with us -- they've started to already, at least. We'll find another way."

He does indeed move towards the medibay, though he takes his time about it, his optics flickering around the camp ground tiredly as if he is trying to analyze any immediate threats. There aren't any, but he is finding himself especially paranoid.

"That would be of great use," he says, after a moment. "...Do you know how secure our location is from Decepticon intel? This is a very disadvantageous situation."

Optimus’ distant demeanor doesn’t come as a surprise to him, though that doesn’t make it sting any less. His own expression is somewhat neutral in attempt to suppress the weariness - hints of it still showing through regardless. Drift’s about to ask Optimus if he’s feeling alright, but it’s clear as day to both of them that he’s not. So instead, he elects to just skip to the point.

“I, umm…I’ll…try not to bother you for too long.”

It’s hard to keep his optics from shying away. He’d been expecting the truth coming out to be something of a relief, but it’s only intensified the guilt, if anything.

“I just…I don’t want to sit around and make excuses about what’s happened. No matter the reasons, I still abused Arcee’s trust.” He shifts on his feet – clearly uncomfortable, but managing to maintain a steady gaze. “Any punishment you think I deserve, I’ll accept it. No arguments.”

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no one mourns the wicked

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OH NO THAT ICON

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