(It’s Megatron’s voice that cuts through the fog, and it’s his that he shrieks back at.)
PLEASE! Please stop! Make it stop! I already know! I KNOW! Please stop! You’re hurting me!!!
The voice is faint through the comms, but Megatron is summoning a bridge before the transmission even finishes. He’d known something was wrong! Weeks he’d been gone and no word? Nightmarish cenarios ran through his mind as he stormed through the swirling green vortex, his friend abducted by some hulking beast, or worse yet his own political enemies to punish the minibot for his association.
Bumblebee is nowhere to be found inside his house, but the signal didn’t come from anywhere unfamiliar. He had to be somewhere close and as Megatron opens the front door to search he finds the usual scenery… gone, devoured by something new. His vision instead is filled with some kind of dark amusement park, off-kilter music winding its way through the air, its gate mere feet from his friend’s front door.
Megatron enters with no hesitation. ::I’m on my way.::
::I am online, calm yourself. My reconstruction put me offline for longer than anticipated, but everything seems to be in its proper place now. Have there been many new arrivals?::
::Your reconstruction? So- so, wait, are you back to normal? LIke- your old frame, or-? Can I visit you?:: Smokescreen’s already driving over! He’s pretty excited to hear from him, he is able to get past the idea of driving alone for just a short trip, to check on his friend.
::Well, yeah! I think more and more groups come each time, and it’s really good to see. I’ve been organizing some of the housing while you were out, and I tried sending in a request for more temporary housing to be made? But- but there’s still more Decepticons coming in compared to Autobots, and the Autobots that do come here are happy to see me, but seem kind of… Anxious, I guess? I’m doing my best to make things relaxing for them, since I understand their feelings, but- I’m not sure what to do to make it better, you know?::
::As ‘normal’ as I can be, but a visit would be welcome.:: Anyone who isn’t his medic, who is all but glued to his side running diagnostic tests. He’s nearly knocked the mech over several times just in turning slightly, and none of it is doing anything to jog the last few hours of his memory before surgery. He is grateful for the distraction.
::I can’t say I’m surprised. If I were them, I wouldn’t trust the opposing faction’s leader, either. They may refuse to be convinced that I’m not out to hunt them down.::
::I am online, calm yourself. My reconstruction put me offline for longer than anticipated, but everything seems to be in its proper place now. Have there been many new arrivals?::
Megatron himself doesn’t answer, but he overhears the transmission and clears the ship with a smirk. By the time the foreign ship lands, the former warlord has made his way down to the flight deck.
“A voice I haven’t heard in some time. Why the sudden visit?” It may sound like an interrogation, but he’s yet to drop the smile.
Megatron stepped freely outside of the medbay for the first time in ages, and nearly tripped over a collection of decorated energon cubes.
Each one was different, etched with words of hope and well-wishes and names of so many of his soldiers… He’s very nearly taken aback. All of them left with little to no explanation of his absence and rather than move on or claim abandonment, such concern… Yet in all the time he’s been gone, not a word from those who are always checking in.
Something is wrong.
A wakeful state is brought about in stages. Nerve clusters re-learn to fire in the correct order and a gentle breeze is felt. As his optics recalibrate and flicker online, Megatron finds his red filters have been replaced. With a growl of irritation, he blearily finds the command to slide them away. His chronometer says he’s been in stasis for two weeks, earning another irritated groan.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to put me under, Singer…” The vehicon’s voice replies from behind him as he starts to sit up. Everything is at its proper height again, at last.
“My Lord, I would never do so without your permission! But the sedative code took to your neural net very fast, I’m not surprised you don’t remember what happened right away- b-but you should recover from that soon too! Nothing to be concerned about…” At this point, the medic shrank into himself. “Do you… remember what we discussed about Soundwave, sir?” Megatron’s helm whipped over to where Soundwave had been laying, only to find an empty medical berth. Singer ran to stand in his Lord’s view, hands raised in defense.
“He’s still alive still alive, only moved! He’s in your room, still being monitored, but… sir, please take some time before you go. Let yourself remember and then… then consider your choice.” Megatron glared at him, frustrated both at the medic’s maddening indirectness and at his own spotty memory.
Sensing the static fury building in the air, Singer bowed his helm and stepped out of sight again, returning to his station to give his Lord some time to cool off.
A more familiar titan begins to stir on the central medial berth.
Rung reads the message and hears his voice and it’s like his spark is filled up with warmth and his plating actually tingles. Having a moment alone, he curls himself up on a chair to respond. ::And I’ve been thinking of you, dear spark. I can hardly wait to see you again.::
Such simple endearment, but Megatron can’t keep himself from smiling. ::I am hardly myself again, though moreso than I was.:: His helm falls back against the berth, servo resting idly on his chest.
::I almost feel you here with me, but these mere glyphs lack your warmth. May I join you there soon, and feel it once more? In exchange I would to show you… what of me remains unchanged.::
Megatron's back up 