[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Can't keep going on like this [ Closed || Optimus / Miko ]
Feb 11, 2021 17:41:16 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2021 17:41:16 GMT -5
Timeline: Week 2 Day 5 ( subject to change )
The Wrecker wasn't one who necessarily kept his cool, but when he felt his temper rise he was usually able to direct it to other projects. At the moment it was probably a good idea he had chosen to isolate himself in one of the storage rooms, away from the ground bridge, control room, and the others. Also, right now it probably wasn't a good idea to be handling anything explosive, even as much as his servos wanted to fidget. They were currently contained within themselves as he sat on one of the many crates off in the back, his frame still as he stared dangerously ahead at the empty space.
Processing everything.
Attempting to calm himself down.
The latter was failing miserably. There was so much going on at once that it was driving him to a point he hadn't felt before and he was trying to sort out how to handle it.
Wheeljack hadn't been invited along to assist with the search when Ratchet had first turned up missing, which was a little insulting. He suspected that this was a 'team prime' problem so it had been deemed as not being his concern. Still, a little heads up from someone- namely Bulkhead- would have been nice, rather than an after-the-fact overheard conversation. Still, word hadn't taken long to spread about the newest blow to the Autobot base, and Wheeljack had been foolish enough to not take it for the face value of how bad it actually was. He'd gone to find Doc himself, to throw in his little quips and make his joke about him being let go for being too grouchy to handle- and it was then that he had gotten metaphorical slap to the face. Who he had seen there- who had returned to base- was no longer Ratchet. The frame may have been there, but the spirit that the Wrecker had grown accustomed to and had so playfully nicknamed 'Sunshine' was missing. It had made him sick to the point that he had to leave. He'd seen those horrors before on Cybertron. He'd dealt with the shells of those who were no longer themselves.
The memories brought a shudder to his frame and he doubled over slightly.
What was the true icing on the cake was what came after. His curiosity got the better of him and he'd gone digging to see just what this MECH was all about. The Wrecker had been blindsided by the lack of action. The severity of the organization swept under the rug. They'd been allowed to work and no one had bothered to stop them. And their side hadn't been the only one to be impacted. A truce? To bring the two sides together, and for what? No one had done anything to put an end to them in that entire time. That wasn't the time to have a vacation, and that was pretty much what he determined had gone on.
There were two in this base he felt an uncomfortable fear for which was only adding to his frustration. Miko was a human, fleshy and... squishy, so there were things that could hurt her that one of his species would otherwise be able to shrug off. Essentially, she was one of his, even if she was on Team Prime in the same way Bulk had opted to go. If anything happened to Bulk or Miko specifically under the Prime's leadership, he'd never forgive himself for not interfering. That was a weight on his shoulders he couldn't bare to have. At this point, he'd rather them be clear of this conflict entirely than to have their lives trusted in the hands of...
As the Wrecker sat there musing over his thoughts, left servo cupping his right, had been clenching them tighter in a vice hold until the strain was too much to take. Joints cracked, and as if the sound itself had caused his anger to finally snap like a twig, he lashed out in a single, violent display. A fist shot out and struck the wall to his side, embedding itself there and remaining until he finally took a breath and drew it back. The resulting damage from the impact had been strong enough to even show the groves and joints from each individual digit, leaving no question to what had caused it.
Then he rose to his pedes and started on his way out of the room as he began his search. There was purpose in his strides, with set shoulders and an expression that had tuned out the world around him. The pointed gaze should have been more than enough to warn anyone who happened to cross his path to just mind themselves. Wheeljack was clearly on a warpath once he started moving, heavy footfalls making him sound impressively larger than he actually was. At this point even the impassable Bulkhead probably wouldn't be able to stop him. A Wrecker with a purpose was a force to be reckoned with on a good day- on a bad day? It was best to keep clear.
Prime had drew his cards with a losing hand. His team consisted of mechs and femmes who had lived through this war relying on their skills to keep them alive and so far it had worked out for them. Now? Now there were questions that needed to be asked. When teammates started to drop off for one reason or another you had to look hard at the circumstances. One loss on a small team was a blow, but it was usually overlooked as a bad draw. Two was a little bit of a stab in the base of your backstrut that made one raise a brow at and usually got others talking. But three? You had to question the highest level in the immediate chain of command- the head honcho giving the orders. In this case, Optimus was a double whammy. Not only was he the Commander of this little band of merry Autobots, but he was also the ultimate figurehead as well. There was no one above him to question his actions, so it was left to the ones under him. So why wasn't anyone doing it? Why was this being looked at as a 'learning curve'? This was not a training session! These were lives that were being decided.
The confrontation came after he finally found the Prime. A loud thud and the sound of cement and metal shattering and breaking then hitting the floor resonated within the room. There was nothing said right away, as if the brief time lapse would allow him a chance to formulate words instead of just jumbled, angry sounds.
"Are you satisfied yet?" Wheeljack finally blurted out after coming to his senses enough to recognized he'd been just standing there with his servo clenched to the doorframe, which was probably the only thing his subconscious mind could do to keep him from advancing. He was angry, not stupid, and his processor knew that even if his spark and frame felt otherwise. As much as he would have loved to settle this going toe to toe with the Autobot leader, the Wrecker knew the career suicide that would come if he allowed his fists to do the talking. That didn't mean that deep down he knew how much Optimus Prime deserved a good snap to reality in the form of good old-fashioned five digit justice.
"How many more of your troops- no, of your team- are you going to risk testing how long you can push this passive agenda scrap you've been spewing?" Disgust was laced in with those words, making the frigid way they were spoken even more cold. While he may have been able to keep his pedes planted right where he stood, his mouth was a different story, and that was more than free to spew what it wanted to without a filter to keep himself civil. Still, he'd give Optimus time to answer, to defend himself- even if he did just want to pour out everything that he wanted to say in this state of ready and revving to go. That was almost more than Wheeljack even felt that he deserved with everything that was going on.
The Wrecker wasn't one who necessarily kept his cool, but when he felt his temper rise he was usually able to direct it to other projects. At the moment it was probably a good idea he had chosen to isolate himself in one of the storage rooms, away from the ground bridge, control room, and the others. Also, right now it probably wasn't a good idea to be handling anything explosive, even as much as his servos wanted to fidget. They were currently contained within themselves as he sat on one of the many crates off in the back, his frame still as he stared dangerously ahead at the empty space.
Processing everything.
Attempting to calm himself down.
The latter was failing miserably. There was so much going on at once that it was driving him to a point he hadn't felt before and he was trying to sort out how to handle it.
Wheeljack hadn't been invited along to assist with the search when Ratchet had first turned up missing, which was a little insulting. He suspected that this was a 'team prime' problem so it had been deemed as not being his concern. Still, a little heads up from someone- namely Bulkhead- would have been nice, rather than an after-the-fact overheard conversation. Still, word hadn't taken long to spread about the newest blow to the Autobot base, and Wheeljack had been foolish enough to not take it for the face value of how bad it actually was. He'd gone to find Doc himself, to throw in his little quips and make his joke about him being let go for being too grouchy to handle- and it was then that he had gotten metaphorical slap to the face. Who he had seen there- who had returned to base- was no longer Ratchet. The frame may have been there, but the spirit that the Wrecker had grown accustomed to and had so playfully nicknamed 'Sunshine' was missing. It had made him sick to the point that he had to leave. He'd seen those horrors before on Cybertron. He'd dealt with the shells of those who were no longer themselves.
The memories brought a shudder to his frame and he doubled over slightly.
What was the true icing on the cake was what came after. His curiosity got the better of him and he'd gone digging to see just what this MECH was all about. The Wrecker had been blindsided by the lack of action. The severity of the organization swept under the rug. They'd been allowed to work and no one had bothered to stop them. And their side hadn't been the only one to be impacted. A truce? To bring the two sides together, and for what? No one had done anything to put an end to them in that entire time. That wasn't the time to have a vacation, and that was pretty much what he determined had gone on.
There were two in this base he felt an uncomfortable fear for which was only adding to his frustration. Miko was a human, fleshy and... squishy, so there were things that could hurt her that one of his species would otherwise be able to shrug off. Essentially, she was one of his, even if she was on Team Prime in the same way Bulk had opted to go. If anything happened to Bulk or Miko specifically under the Prime's leadership, he'd never forgive himself for not interfering. That was a weight on his shoulders he couldn't bare to have. At this point, he'd rather them be clear of this conflict entirely than to have their lives trusted in the hands of...
As the Wrecker sat there musing over his thoughts, left servo cupping his right, had been clenching them tighter in a vice hold until the strain was too much to take. Joints cracked, and as if the sound itself had caused his anger to finally snap like a twig, he lashed out in a single, violent display. A fist shot out and struck the wall to his side, embedding itself there and remaining until he finally took a breath and drew it back. The resulting damage from the impact had been strong enough to even show the groves and joints from each individual digit, leaving no question to what had caused it.
Then he rose to his pedes and started on his way out of the room as he began his search. There was purpose in his strides, with set shoulders and an expression that had tuned out the world around him. The pointed gaze should have been more than enough to warn anyone who happened to cross his path to just mind themselves. Wheeljack was clearly on a warpath once he started moving, heavy footfalls making him sound impressively larger than he actually was. At this point even the impassable Bulkhead probably wouldn't be able to stop him. A Wrecker with a purpose was a force to be reckoned with on a good day- on a bad day? It was best to keep clear.
Prime had drew his cards with a losing hand. His team consisted of mechs and femmes who had lived through this war relying on their skills to keep them alive and so far it had worked out for them. Now? Now there were questions that needed to be asked. When teammates started to drop off for one reason or another you had to look hard at the circumstances. One loss on a small team was a blow, but it was usually overlooked as a bad draw. Two was a little bit of a stab in the base of your backstrut that made one raise a brow at and usually got others talking. But three? You had to question the highest level in the immediate chain of command- the head honcho giving the orders. In this case, Optimus was a double whammy. Not only was he the Commander of this little band of merry Autobots, but he was also the ultimate figurehead as well. There was no one above him to question his actions, so it was left to the ones under him. So why wasn't anyone doing it? Why was this being looked at as a 'learning curve'? This was not a training session! These were lives that were being decided.
The confrontation came after he finally found the Prime. A loud thud and the sound of cement and metal shattering and breaking then hitting the floor resonated within the room. There was nothing said right away, as if the brief time lapse would allow him a chance to formulate words instead of just jumbled, angry sounds.
"Are you satisfied yet?" Wheeljack finally blurted out after coming to his senses enough to recognized he'd been just standing there with his servo clenched to the doorframe, which was probably the only thing his subconscious mind could do to keep him from advancing. He was angry, not stupid, and his processor knew that even if his spark and frame felt otherwise. As much as he would have loved to settle this going toe to toe with the Autobot leader, the Wrecker knew the career suicide that would come if he allowed his fists to do the talking. That didn't mean that deep down he knew how much Optimus Prime deserved a good snap to reality in the form of good old-fashioned five digit justice.
"How many more of your troops- no, of your team- are you going to risk testing how long you can push this passive agenda scrap you've been spewing?" Disgust was laced in with those words, making the frigid way they were spoken even more cold. While he may have been able to keep his pedes planted right where he stood, his mouth was a different story, and that was more than free to spew what it wanted to without a filter to keep himself civil. Still, he'd give Optimus time to answer, to defend himself- even if he did just want to pour out everything that he wanted to say in this state of ready and revving to go. That was almost more than Wheeljack even felt that he deserved with everything that was going on.