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Post by Springer on Sept 24, 2009 10:59:08 GMT -5
OOC: Pirvatey thread be private, arrrrrr. It be takin' place around Day 10.
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Something had been nagging at Springer on the way back from the encounter in the swamp. The memories were still very vivid in his mind, and Perceptor seemed to catch the worst trauma of the lot of the group.
And...well, he may not be the Perceptor he knows, but he's similar enough. The concern is still there in the back of his mind.
So Springer finds himself stepping into the lab, rapping on the door frame with a knuckle. "Anyone home?"
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Post by Perceptor on Sept 24, 2009 11:53:08 GMT -5
Springer has come to the correct place to find Perceptor; the scientist may technically have a room assignment, but he has yet to set foot in it. After all, he finally has a real laboratory assembled to his very exacting specifications from equipment which had always been purposed for scientific inquiry rather than scavanged from detritus and pressed into use. It will not matter, now, where the Autobots go in whatever multiversal shadow they currently inhabit.
Perceptor is already home. He doesn't need blue skies or long stretches of desert roads or carefully hidden tunnels. Perceptor just needs a Mass Spectrometer and a place to keep his test tubes and petri dishes. Everything else is a partially congealed, animal protein based, flavor-enhanced fluid typically used to garnish portions of animal protein and ancillary starchy meal components.
"Springer?" he calls, peeking out from around a storage rack with a welcoming, if faintly perplexed, expression. "What may I do for you? Is everything all right?"
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Post by Springer on Sept 26, 2009 0:41:53 GMT -5
OOC: Mmm....gravy... <3
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Springer's at home too, but he wishes his roommates would come home sometime.
In the meantime, he'll work on getting to know his current reality-displaced roommates better.
"Ah, yes. I was, er, actually coming to ask -you- that," he says, making sure the door was closed. "Y'know, after the whole issue back on the planet..."
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Post by Perceptor on Sept 26, 2009 6:43:52 GMT -5
"Issue?" Perceptor asks, his expression creased with a slight frown of confusion as he steps out from behind the shelving rack, dusting his hands off against each other. His processors are whirring quickly, sorting through his memorybanks for possible occurances that Springer might possibly referencing.
It takes him a few seconds to parse "Springer", "planet", and "issue" together to find the event which is undoubtably in question... because he has been dilligently attempting to forget it.
"Ah... w-what, ah, issue do you mean?" he stammers nervously, not meeting Springer's optics as he looks around for a cloth for his hands to wipe off imaginary dust with.
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Post by Springer on Sept 26, 2009 21:12:18 GMT -5
Springer frowns, feeling a sick twinge in his spark. Perceptor apparently does not care to recall the incident - then again, neither does Springer. He just wants to make sure the scientist is doing okay after it.
Springer's tone grows soft, solemn even. "You know which one - the swamp, Perceptor. I know it's not pleasant to recall. By far, that was one of, if not the most terrifying missions I've undertook. I just wanna make sure you're holding up alright."
Springer asks because he's stared down the apocalypse of his home planet - twice, and this little incident rattled him to the frames. He doesn't know what Perceptor's witnessed, but given the things that happened out there, he's worried a bit for his comrade.
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Post by Perceptor on Sept 27, 2009 14:17:15 GMT -5
Busted. Perceptor heaves an unhappy sigh, the tension that had swiftly built up releasing from his frame as he seems to wilt. "Ah," he murmurs quietly.
No, Perceptor doesn't care to recall that incident. "Not pleasant" is an understatement to having the Prime he failed turn on them. To having that very failure shoved before his optical sensors at the point of that formidable rifle.
To losing one of his best friends all over again.
Perceptor winces as the memory of the pain of Wheeljack's hand digging into his scope mount, of Wheeljack attempting to rip it free, looms up and ghosts along his relays.
"I am fine," he lies quietly, still refusing to meet Springer's gaze as he looks around for something to occupy his hands, his attention, his mind. There isn't much, though. He hasn't started anything really involved just yet, and even if he had not just completed organizing his equipment, such a simple task does not offer much chellenge to keep his processor engaged. To keep it from wandering. To keep the memories at bay. "It was..." Not frightening. Just an adventure. A simple field exercise that got exciting. Just...
Perceptor isn't even believing himself right now.
"My Prime."
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Post by Springer on Sept 29, 2009 10:18:20 GMT -5
Springer wilts a bit as well, upon seeing the effect the inquiry had on Perceptor. He steps away from the door, resting his hands on a counter, even leaning on it a bit.
"He looked...oddly like mine. There was something odd about him, though..." Springer's tone is low. "I thought he was attacking me at one point like the others, but after he knocked me down, he caught a blast from the Megatron there." Springer glances up at Perceptor, having been staring at his hands for the past bit. "I've half a mind to think that even if he was being controlled, there was still some of some semblance of him in there..."
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Post by Perceptor on Sept 29, 2009 12:45:41 GMT -5
Perceptor isn't quite sure how he feels about that. It is, on one hand, comforting to know that he had not been the only one to have seen that... that spark of Optimus rear up within the animated corpse. It is comforting to know that, even in death, even after such desecration, that Optimus remains there, somewhere, that his strength cannot be conquered.
And yet... that makes his failure all the more terrible.
Not only did he fail his Prime by being unable to repair him when he had fallen during that fateful battle at Autobot City, he failed his Prime again by allowing Optimus to fall again in the swamp.
"He was my Prime," Perceptor murmurs softly, shaking his head. "He might have appeared familiar to you, but I know those wounds he carried. I failed to repair him when he received them."
Perceptor's gaze has slipped down to stare at his hands. "I saw, too. He was more than a drone there, Springer. Even nif for but a few moments, he broke the control. He lived."
Somehow he lived. After Perceptor had failed him.
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Post by Springer on Oct 1, 2009 16:57:14 GMT -5
Springer's face stays solem, still leaning on the counter. "I see..." he says quietly.
The Wrecker's grip on the counter tightens a bit, Springer all too reminded of his own failure with Kup. "...I know it hurts, feeling helpless like that, but sometimes... Sometimes you should just let things go. Even if you have the resources, the capability to do something, that doesn't always mean you should. It might not work out like you think it should."
Springer is currently glad that Prowl isn't here. He can just see that smug spawnuvaglitch's face right now, leering and saying 'I told you so'.
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Post by Perceptor on Oct 5, 2009 19:01:01 GMT -5
Perceptor is silent for several long moments, just staring down at his hands. How can he know, truly know with total certainty, that Optimus Prime would have been able to open the Matrix as Rodimus Prime had? How can he truly know that Optimus could have destroyed Unicron as Rodimus had?
Not to put too fine a point upon it... he cannot.
"But they were depending upon me, Springer," he finally murmurs, but there is doubt in his voice. "He['i] was depending upon me."
He isn't talking about Optimus, though. Unfortunately, Springer probably won't know that.
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Post by Springer on Oct 7, 2009 17:48:24 GMT -5
Springer stays quiet, hands going limp, and sliding off of the countertop. He doesn't know who Perceptor refers to, but the words still strike a chord.
He wonders if there was any semblance of Kup left in what was recovered to have been depending on his fellow Autobots for rescue... Springer does know that his crew was there, depending on him to make good decisions on the mission, to wait for Trailbreaker, but he got too impatient..!
He grips the counter again. "I..." He sighs, clenching his jaw. He's kinda in over his head at the moment, with this situation.
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Post by Perceptor on Oct 22, 2009 19:55:53 GMT -5
Springer's tone finally penetrates briefly Perceptor's self-recrimination. Springer had come to check on his welfare after that... horrible nightmare. Not his physical welfare, but his emotional well-being. There is concern there.
Perceptor is not used to that concern. He is accustomed to being the conveneint problem-solver that is removed from his box when he is needed, and then as conveniently ignored and forgotten when he is not. Ratchet and Wheeljack had really only ever been the ones to concern themselves with ensuring that he had been recharging and receiving his fuel allotments as needed, as Long Haul is prone to doing here. And Springer?
The Springer of his reality would never have made the effort to beard the scientist in his own lair where the triple-changer would have to risk a conversation with the scientist! He would have been too preoccupied with Arcee and Rodimus. And yet, here Springer stands, concern in his voice.
And loss. And sorrow. And something more, something familiar. It is the familiar echoes of guilt that shake Perceptor out of his self-centered fugue.
Belatedly, Perceptor recalls how Springer had grown suddenly more subdued in the swamp after retrieving some of those parts. The armor, and the helmet. The bits that were accidentally left behind. Was it accidentally?
"Who was it, Springer?" he asks gently, regarding the Wrecker with softened optics as he takes a step closer. "Whose ghost was sent to haunt you then?"
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Post by Springer on Oct 24, 2009 7:08:49 GMT -5
"...I don't know. I honestly don't know. It could have been one of many," Springer answers quietly, staring at his hands. "I never got a look at who was in the armor - I had to frag him before he drug me under the swamp. I... Before I came to this universe, I had just wrapped up a rescue mission. The Kup of my world had been long lost, but we found him on a planet full of weird crystals. They'd fried his processor with radiation, so the guys I sent down had to use the anti-rad armor."
Springer sighs, looking up at Perceptor. "Kup...was so far gone, he had become hostile - lethally so. My guys went in at night to try and sneak up on him, but he'd catch on and flip out, and take out a whole squad hand-to-hand. They couldn't risk weapons fire because of the unstable crystals, and Kup's shaky spark... I was waiting for a specialist to show up - Trailbreaker, had fancy forcefields he could use. I was too impatient, though, figuring with the right bit of luck we could grab Kup and bring him home, but every group I sent down there..." Springer's head dips low, as does his tone. "...none came back... Except for the last one - Siren came back, the only one of his group. Shortly after, Trailbreaker did arrive, and we got Kup back - only to put him on spark-support."
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Post by Perceptor on Oct 25, 2009 14:53:15 GMT -5
Perceptor is glad that he is not a leader. He is not certain that he has the abilities to make difficult decisions about the fates of others.
"I do not think that I would have been able to stand idly by and simply await Trailbreaker's arrival, either," he offers quietly.
Who would he be willing to trade for Ratchet or Wheeljack? What choices would be find himself willing to examine, to consider, for their lives if, somewhere in this refelction of a universe, they were to stumble upon his former comrades in need of rescue themselves? Would he be willing to trade new friends, familiar faces shielding unfamiliar concern, for the shadows of old friends now passed? Old friends who might not even be the entities whom he recalls?
"What if I had remained with Wheeljack that day?" he muses half to himself. "What if I had not left him to find Ultra Magnus, to pass along intelligence which the City Commander would have discovered for himself but mere moments after I had told him? What if I had been in a better position to assist Optimus Prime that day? What if I had not stopped Brawn from shattering Megatron's central processor long before that, when the tyrant would have had no ability to defend himself? What if I had not given them Corrostop?" He shakes his head and sighs, turning to retrieve something from a cabinet a few steps away.
"I... am not very, ah... skilled at this sort of endeavor... however, I can see you asking yourself 'what if', Springer. It's madness, you know," he observes, stepping over to the small work table that separates them and setting down a receptical of very bright energon, before pouring one for himself. He takes a sip, a thin shudder rippling through his frame as the potent blend hits his receptors. "To wonder about events in the past that can no longer be altered. Such pensive introspection is little more than a slow poison that corrodes away the very things which our friends depend upon from us."
"I..." he pauses, staring sadly down at his hands curled around the beaker he's poured his own energon into. "I could not repair Optimus. I... lacked. I am a skilled repair technician, however... it was Ratchet who was our chief medical officer. He was the one who seemed able to reach into the worst chaos and bring order to it. To, for lack of a less melodramatic turn of phrase, pluck a very spark of life from the precipice of oblivion and hold it there until its vessel could be made whole enough to contain it once again."
"I am not Ratchet. I do not have that... that ability, and Optimus died because of that. Because Ratchet had already been slain, and I am a scientist, not a medic."
"And yet, despite this, Rodimus Prime was born from those events, and has led the Autobots beyond our war for the first time in... well, nearly in my living memory. I cannot be certain that Optimus could have done the same, though it feels a bit like betrayal to even think such a thing, much less say it."
"You, though... You could see that Kup was in dire need of assistance. Yet, did you know that he would be so badly off once rescued, before you and your team had succeeded? Did any whom you sent ever refuse the mission you set to them? Or did they accept the responsibility you entrusted them with, with the understanding that it was fraught with danger? Did they, too, wish to rescue Kup, despite the risk?"
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Post by Springer on Oct 26, 2009 5:40:32 GMT -5
At first, Springer gives a half-hearted chuckle to Perceptor. "If it's a madness, then are we forming a support group for it?" His tone is a bit teasing, since Perceptor seems to be doing it just as much as he does.
As Springer listens more to Perceptor reflect on his past, the Wrecker offers a bit of thought on it. "I... Where I'm from, Hot Rod is still Hot Rod - I'd never even heard of a Matrix or even thought about Hot Rod ever becoming a Prime. He just seems too reckless, but I suppose it takes some sense of recklessness - from what I gather from the files, Optimus did that to stop Megatron in your universe, and to set that chain of events up that you speak of. And during the cataclysm in my universe, Prime refused to just stand by while we took on both Bludgeon's little cult and Thunderwing himself. Hell, Prime is the one that wound up bringing Thunderwing down in the end..."
Springer looks away as the question is proposed to him. "I... We knew he was in a degree of bad shape, given the time there and the radiation levels, but we--I couldn't just leave him there!" Springer clenches one hand closed. "He meant too much, trained almost all of us - Optimus included! And if he knew about the situation, he would've been down there himself, without a single plate of anti-rad armor on."
A low sigh leaves him. "And all for him to be shackled to life-support." Another sigh preceeds him taking the other receptacle of energon, with a small glass-raising gesture in silent thanks. He then adds. "I suppose it's easy to say that "what's done is done, nothing that you can do about it now", but that doesn't keep you from dwelling on it, or falling into the what-ifs."
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