Seeing Brainstorm is a relief. Or at the very least, it prevents the dark pall that was pressing down on him from smothering him completely. His helm shifts from side-to-side, mouth working as more words the reject, deny this eventuality come forth. But quiet, stilted, like there’s part of him really does know.
Swerve can’t even entirely process what he’s feeling—it’s still shock and a huge dose of denial—so he has no issue following Brainstorm’s lead. He takes off down the hall after the jet, and when his little minibot legs can’t keep up he folds into his alt, ricocheting off the wall once and then he’s off after Brainstorm again.
He’s right on Brainstorm’s heels as they enter medbay, echoing he scientist’s calls because louder meant better right? The sooner they got all this done with the sooner they could go back to watching movies in the wee dark hours.
He had put Rewind in cold storage, saved Chromedome’s life, and was going to search for Eject, actually — until Dangerous and Dangerous-er burst into the medbay. Well, at least that cut down search time!
However, First Aid’s featureless face fell at the sight of the grey frame in Brainstorm’s arms. That was not good news - he had expected it only due to Rewind’s passing, but it was still unsettling to see a mech he had trusted to guard some of his deepest secrets laying stoic in alt mode, like a piece of useless equipment. It was almost surreal - because Eject wasn’t laughing dryly or telling him ‘Hey First, I’m fine!’.
His vocalizer decided to work only after a few moments of gawking incredulously. “Get him to a berth,” he spat, already running for the drips - and boy, he felt like he was going to be using those things a lot this next week. “Brainstorm, how long has he been like this, do you know? I need as many stats as possible and I won’t be able to get many if his spark pulse hasn’t been reacting for over a few minutes.”
And oh - First Aid knew Brainstorm was smart and collected and of course, worried about one of the most inspirational mechs on the Lost Light — but Swerve looked absolutely panic-stricken, and it nearly broke the young medic’s spark to see the look on his face.
“Swerve, you can take a seat if you feel you need it, I don’t want you up and about if you’re not feeling well,” he urged in a calm tone, even as he rushed back over with hardwire scanners in his hand, wasting no time to prep.
It won’t take First Aid long to see that any attempt at treatment won’t be necessary. The minibot is dead, without even a whisper of a sparkbeat left in him. The antennae isn’t exactly limp—it’s too spindly, with too few joints, to lie flat—but as Brainstorm lays it on the berth, a single data cable comes loose and unspools, dangling over the side of the berth lifelessly and clanking against the floor.
Eject always had a tendency to run cool, not being equipped with an engine designed to propel a mobile alt-mode, and by the time First Aid reaches him and touches his gunmetal-gray plating for the first time, it will be nearly cold to the touch.
The force that made this odd little machine Eject is very simply gone. There’s nothing left but a hunk of nonfunctional equipment.
(Source: unmentionable-genius)
[video]
Eject has been rather quiet as of late.
The minibot has, over the course of the past few weeks, settled into a state of grey numbness. Rewind’s unresponsiveness seems to have flipped a switch in Eject, and he’s spent an overwhelming amount of time working. His routine has consisted of resting, refueling, and assuming his duties. He’s spent most of his time plugged directly into the Lost Light, alternating between obsessively monitoring the hallways and scanning the multiverse’s many-layered communication channels. In some ways, it’s reminded him of his early life.
Eject had been on his way to the mess hall, ready to down half a cube and make his way to the bridge. Maybe he’d find someone there, like Rotorstorm or Rodimus. Maybe he’d stop by the med bay to check in on Rewind before he settled into work, or to remind Brainstorm to get some sleep, once in a while. He hadn’t been in much of a mood to talk, but it would be curiously nice just to be near someone, to feel the frequency of another EM field just beyond the reach of his own—
—the loss hits him in the middle of that half-formed thought.
It’s like a hammer-blow directly to the spark, and it sends the small mech reeling, stumbling, one hand splayed along the hallway wall for support, the other grasping desperately, disbelievingly, at his own chest. He can feel it, feel the startled silence where once there had been a myriad of frequencies that had been so familiar to them he hadn’t even thought of them as anything but his own. He can feel the change in his spark’s own dynamic, feel the wrongness in its balance, in its burn, and he knows without having to think a moment longer that Rewind is dead.
He makes a soft sound, once, very much like a sob.
Then he steps forward.
It’s a losing battle, but Eject has never backed down in the face of a fight he thought he could win before, not from anyone or anything. His body is shot through with a curious cold tingling, but he pushes on, visor burning with determination, willing his limbs to move by sheer spite. He has to get to Rewind. It doesn’t matter that his brother is lost. In the churning confusion of his thoughts, he can only think that he should be there, should be wherever Rewind is, and his shuddering, stubborn frame carries him yet another step. He almost falls, but he grips at the wall, his fingertips scoring the metal and leaving shallow scratches.
The numbness spreads. It has only been a few moments since Rewind’s spark snuffed out, but Eject feels like he’s been struggling for hours. There’s no energy left in his limbs, and his mind feels suddenly very… distant, detached, from his increasingly-unresponsive body. A surge of rage and frustration unexpectedly rise in his dying spark. No, speech is beyond him, but his thoughts burn with a clarity lent by anger, I didn’t live through millions of years of war for this. There’s too much left I have to do, too much for me to leave behind. I haven’t made it this far to die like this, and I won’t. I am not going to die here, alone, in this hallway.
He dies anyway, of course.
Eject’s last act as a living mech is to take a last step forward, and then finally collapse, his vents giving one last shuddering sigh. The glow behind his visor fades, and he goes still. His first act as a dead mech is to immediately shift, his body entering rigor morphis and changing into its preferred form: his alt mode.
That’s where he will be found, still and limp on the floor like a piece of discarded equipment.
When he’s content, Swerve can sleep like a brick. In that way it’s good that he’s a minibot, because Brainstorm has little issue just levering Swerve’s slack recharging form off himself and depositing the minibot back on the berth—all without little more than mumbled groan—when the weapons engineer decides to time to get back into the lab.
And even if there’s a deep quality of contentment to his current situation, there’s also an underlying thread of concern that extends past himself. And it’s by the thread that Swerve pulls himself through the fuzzy haze of recharge when he feels the EM field near him stir with emotional activity.
He hums his contentment as he wakes slowly, stretching a little before flopping back against the mech next to him again. Swerve raises his head, a flat broad smile on his face and his optics shutter open…awfully close to Eject’s face.
O-oh…
Brainstorm’s recharge goes by peacefully and without much event. Sleep is one of the few times where his busy processor calms itself, and he rarely ever dreams. This time is no exception.
Since he was so exhausted the night before, it takes a several sudden movements to wake him from his deep slumber. The jet finally begins to ease out of recharge after Swerve stretches himself out.
At first, Brainstorm doesn’t online his optics simply because he feels too comfortable to get up just yet. He lazily inches himself closer to the smaller body next to him, slinking on arm around it in a loose embrace and curling in until he’s struck by the thought that something feels…off. He can feel the familiar sensation of Swerve’s EM field with his own, but it’s farther away than it should be and mingling with yet another field between the two.
His half-aware and hazy mind is confused by this, and curiosity wins over contentment as the weapons engineer turns on his optics and looks down next to his chest plate, only to find that he’s currently clinging to Eject’s tiny frame.
…Wait, Eject?
While the two smaller Autobots stare at each other, Brainstorm’s processor is flooded with the events of the night before. Quickly realizing that he’s unknowingly gotten himself into an embarrassing position, he quickly removes his arm from around Eject’s midsection and places it on one of the satellite bot’s shoulderplates instead in what he hopes is a more appropriate gesture.
“Umm, good morning.” Brainstorm’s vocalizer manages to croak out. “How’re you feeli— I mean, uh, did you get enough rest?”
The scientist’s awkwardness is practically tangible at this point.
Eject is a little startled by Swerve’s proximity when the other first goes limp against him, and then wakes. His expression is largely hidden by his battle-mask, but the gentle prickle of surprise can be felt skittering through the outer frequencies of his EM field. And then Brainstorm is—cuddling him? Eject’s visor flickers as he blinks, limply submitting to the shift in his position. He’s too startled by the gesture to move, and anyway, Brainstorm is very comfortable and warm at the moment.
And then they’re both staring at him and he suddenly feels quite bashful about the whole affair for reasons he can’t quite pin down. Under different circumstances, Eject would probably beeven more flustered, but his processor is full of heavy thoughts, and he responds with a light chuckle. “Sorry, I… heh. Yeah. I rested fine.”
He lets his gaze shift sideways, willing himself not to let the shame creep in. His friends are here because they want to be here, and he does feel bad for having drawn them here, for having kept them from their proper berths… but it’s outweighed by how glad he is that they stayed with him.
“I…” There’s so much he wants to say, and he has absolutely no way to say it. He inhales deeply, retracting his mask and his visor, looking first to Swerve, and then to Brainstorm. Words fail him. It seems that will never change, but at least his friends will be able to see the sincerity in his expression. “Thank you. Just… you’re the best. Both of you.”
He looks away, down at the floor. “The best,” he repeats quietly.
(Source: readyforsomefootball)
themightyhelicopter asked you: “A new face” Springer offers a nod to the small mech in a polite greeting. “How are you doing?”“Springer? You don’t…?” Eject stops himself mid-sentence. By now, he’s had enough experience with the erratic nature of the tears not to be surprised that a familiar face doesn’t seem to find him familiar.
He just nods. “Hey, Springer.” The minibot’s voice is rather flat, conveying little emotion. “I’m… well. I’m here.” He doesn’t really want to unload the severity of his current circumstances on the Wrecker, not right off the bat. “How’re you? Anyone fill you in on our current situation yet?”
“I’m fine, a bit confused about everything but fine. And yes, Rodimus has cleared some things. I don’t know much about that virus but it sounds really nasty.” Springer instinctively grimaces, he doesn’t want anyone to suffer such illness.
Eject nods. “It is,” he says quietly. “It really is. We’ve got a quarantine goin’ on right now, so there ain’t gonna be any leavin’ the ship for a while. Sorry. We think we got it contained, mostly…” but there are a few mechs that Eject hasn’t seen in a while that he’s worried about. When’s the last time someone checked on Red Alert? he thought to himself.
“But hey, all things considered, it’s good to have you back. We could use the firepower, mech.” And the morale boost that having the indomitable Springer aboard would bring.
Really? A symbiont putting these two in their place? Gasket had to bite his upper lip to stop from chuckling, doesn’t like to be rude after all. Sorry, he just doesn’t really know Eject, or the things he’d do. “I’ve never asked Perceptor either. Like you say, not my bussiness. I’ve seen that sort of dynamic before where I came from, you know? hence why I’m thinking of keeping Perceptor in our ship, far from that mean jet.” Honestly, this kind of discussions usually ended in blows, then again Gasket doesn’t really expect a pair of huh, educated mechs to resort to that sort of thing (you never know!). “Ah? No! Percy isn’t on your ship, thankfully.”
Eject gives a subdued chuckle. “Might be a good idea. ‘Mean jet,’ eh? I’ll be honest with you, fella. Ace can be a downright gearstick when he wants to be. But… that ain’t all there is to him. He’s…” Eject’s tone softens, and a warmth enters his voice. “He’s right capable of being a good friend. The best, really.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“But yeah, someone has to look out for those two nimrods. You’d think, with them bein’ hotshot scientists, they’d know how to behave, right? I’ll look out for Ace, and you look out for Perceptor. Deal?”
Eject has made no attempt to make this frequency private. Unless Gasket has gone through means to do so, then Eject’s rather blunt summation of Brainstorm and Perceptor’s behavior would be plain for both of them to hear—and it doesn’t seem to bother him one bit.
(Source: nekolalalalala, via nekolalalalala)
readyforsomefootball said: “That hate each other. Ace is… he ain’t a -bad- mech, he just ain’t real good at the whole ‘manners’ thing. And Perceptor knows how to get under his skin, and he gets him goin’, They do it to each other, really.”
I see… I mean, it’s kinda funny to watch them argue. But I’m worried of what would happen if they were locked in a room… or a lab for too long. I just think that this Brainstorm guy is pushing his luck a bit too far with Perceptor… idk, that’s just me.
Eject gives a weary sigh. “I dunno. I met Ace before I met Perceptor. Apparently they have a history? I dunno. What happened in the past ain’t my business. But I think they both know better than to let it come to actual blows. And if they don’t, then I’ll knock ‘em both upside the head.”
Exactly how he would reach that high, he doesn’t deign to explain. Eject knows Perceptor only by reputation. Though he would never admit it out loud, he’s always looked up to the scientist-turned sniper (and possibly, at some point, even entertained a silly, very minor crush on him), but that doesn’t mean it spares him from the minibot’s dreaded fist… especially considering that Brainstorm has become nothing less than a very dear friend to Eject.
“I wouldn’t worry. I wont let ‘em hurt each other. I don’t think Perceptor’s even on our ship right now…?”
(Source: nekolalalalala)
themightyhelicopter asked you: “A new face” Springer offers a nod to the small mech in a polite greeting. “How are you doing?”
“Springer? You don’t…?” Eject stops himself mid-sentence. By now, he’s had enough experience with the erratic nature of the tears not to be surprised that a familiar face doesn’t seem to find him familiar.
He just nods. “Hey, Springer.” The minibot’s voice is rather flat, conveying little emotion. “I’m… well. I’m here.” He doesn’t really want to unload the severity of his current circumstances on the Wrecker, not right off the bat. “How’re you? Anyone fill you in on our current situation yet?”
/Seeing Edgie down like this felt really bad. Red would probably hug him if he could, would give him a solid, friendly hug. But it’s not possible and he knows that his presence would be very unwelcome in the place where Eject was. He smiles lightly again and just nods./
Oh, I’ve been listening to everything. Every word has been saved and processed. /He taps the console again./ You know… sometimes you think you can’t do anything but that’s not true. You do something even if you don’t know about it.
/Red chuckles and already sent a ping to the right mech. If he’ll play his cards right maybe there’s still a chance. That is, if his guess was right. He was tempted to say Eject about his plans but then, he didn’t wanted to give the small mech any high hopes. It was all a theory after all, but he possibly knew where to look for the clues for the cure. He shifts on his chair more comfortably./
Don’t lose hope. /He vents and smiles sadly./ It’s a very bad thing when you lose one.
Eject shakes his head. He doesn’t really know how to reply to Drift, but he also doesn’t understand the double meaning of the words being said to him. He’s not a doctor. He’s not a scientist. He’s very, very good at what he does, but his technical knowledge can’t help Rewind.
When the other mentions hope, Eject just shakes his head. “If you say so.” He can’t deny that he’s seen hope do great things—nigh impossible things—but hope is not infallible. Hope dies, and hopeful mechs die. He doesn’t have any reason to hope now. “I’m glad I got to talk to you, though. I… I should probably be wrappin’ it up. You take care of yourself, okay?”
(Source: readyforsomefootball)
The affection radiating from field and bond gave comfort to Blaster as he smiled faintly. With all of his spark he returned the sensations, feeling that words weren’t needed anymore and that simple gestures were what they needed. The loss that was sure to come wasn’t going to be made any easier, but he was ever so thankful to know how much he meant to Eject. He knew he would have to see Rewind soon, before things got even worse.
“I’m glad you feel that way, Ej… It means a lot to me.” The communications officer said quietly, the embrace tightening a little. He didn’t want to leave so soon. Didn’t want to let go of the minibot, but he would have to. “I wouldn’t have changed anything about things before… before…”
Eject seems content to remain in Blaster’s embrace. He doesn’t pull away or speak for a few moments, simply focusing instead on the silent feelings swimming back and forth through the host-bond. When Blaster struggles to finish, Eject twists in his grip, nudging the underside of the other’s chin with the top of his helm. “It’s okay, Boss. It’s okay.”
Once more, he falls silent, and this time the silence lingers for even longer. “You’ll do fine, Boss. No matter what. You’re one of the strongest mechs I know.” Blaster has been an inspiration to many Autobots—in fact, it’s what he’s known for—and he’s been a particular inspiration to Eject.