Autobot Interim: Morgue Scene

[Long Haul]

The scene is set. Days? No, more like weeks after the Autobots have returned to the city by the river. Repairs are as done as they are going to get with the materials on-hand, and they're left with that which has to wait until new tools are constructed. People brought off-line during the battle are back on-line. The receiving station on the edge of town, discovered by Perceptor, Xaaron, and Long Haul on their first night on this world, has been found to once more be receiving power, although the source is still a mystery. Finally, the building, the sort of car garage with a helo-pad on top, where Xaaron and Long Haul first found Tiny (who has finally, perhaps to the regret of the other Autobots, been named) has begun its conversion into a temporary base. Several internal floors have been knocked out, allowing for the Autobots to stand upright, but the place is still in very rough condition.

Near where the medical tables have been set up is another section where somewhat shoddy metal walls been welded in place, and even a basic door has been hinged on. The room sees rather more use than some Autobots would prefer. It serves as the morgue, but, though it goes against the grain for many of these Autobots, they are not yet in a position where whey can be very particular about where they get their spare parts.

Long Haul entered the room alone, and he thinks he still is. He may or may not be wrong. He's been standing in silence for some time, thinking, but feeling guilty even over that. Like everyone, he's been busy almost non-stop since arrival, but there's still so much more work to be done. He can bare afford these few quiet moments.

The transport sighs as he looks at the large, grayed out body. He was the one who had suggested it, and while no one blamed him for it, he could tell they weren't entirely comfortable with the matter. Some were - still are - worse than others. He's stayed silent around the others, even managed to avoid slipping up and mentioning to someone line Slingshot that he was the one who proposed that they scavenge the body of Optimus Prime.

But now, it's time to break that silence.

"Erm... hi, sir," he addresses the corpse. "Uhm. Optimus Prime. My name's Long Haul. I've never met you, but from what I'm hearing, you've met me. And I wanna apologize for that. I... hope to see to it that things don't go down like that twice."

"I... ain't gonna apologize for suggesting they use you like what they did. I'm hearing stories about how you're set to come back and all, but... I'm not going to gamble these people here now against a maybe. And... and if even a part of what I keep hearing from the others about you is true, I don't think you'd want us to, neither."

The Constructibot tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling. "Besides... Scrapper... one of the things Scrapper always told me was, if you really want to honor the dead, you make it a part of the living. We Transformers... we ain't good about death. We live for so long, we can get to pretending it don't never happen, 'least not until we come face to face with it. And then when it does happen... well, if we just shove away the evidence,¹ we can go and forget about it again, right?" Long Haul shakes his head. "I don't agree with that. It don't sit right with me. Most everyone here has known a someone named Optimus Prime, 'cept me and Swerve and Wheelie, I think. And all of 'em, the way they all speak of you..." he trails off, and sighs. "Well, their words is better than mine. I've never been too good with words, anyway. But anyways... if you're even part so good as they all say you are, you deserve more than forgetting."

"So... I'm not here to apologize for that, sir. I'm not going to say I'm sorry. But I did want to say... thank you. You're gonna be honored properly, sir. We're gonna honor you by living."

He falls silent for a moment longer, and begins to turn to leave.

---

¹ In Dark Awakening, the Autobots had apparently forgotten the location of the space-borne memorial, and Rodimus Prime speaks of it as a place he had hoped he would never see again. This strongly suggests a culture that does not deal well with death, and goes out of their way to forget about it.

OOC note: This scene is open to any Autobot who is in the Interim phase of the game. Any unconscious Autobots can be assumed to have been returned to an online and mobile status by now. All you have to do is decide at what point your character just happened to be passing by/started overhearing/peeked your head in/stepped in quietly, figure out how much you heard, and post your reactions as Long Haul started to turn. If no one joins this thread after a couple of days, it can be viewed as a private moment that happened ICly.

[Synapse]

The days after the battle fly by, filled with endless hours for Synapse to get further acquainted with this city on the river. His time occupied by quiet patrol sweeps of the area and unobtrusively observing, when he can, the actions of the other Autobots. He’s better acquainted with them now, or rather, he’s better acquainted with the idea of them. It’s a comforting fact, if not entirely practical. After all, what good is being comfortable with the idea of others if he still can’t feel that way when actually around them?

Thus, Synapse finds himself padding softly down the corridor of their temporary base. His meandering steps taking him somewhere he meant to have visited much earlier, but just couldn’t bring himself to.

Optimus Prime is—was a sort of mythical, iconical figure in his own mind. The idea of paying his respects to the somehow fallen leader makes some sort of sense. Paying respects and showing a bit of gratitude for some of the parts that he’s been repaired with. Maybe in his mind, Synapse has the idea that if he stares long enough at the, in his opinion, great leader, he’d learn something about this mech who is—had been leading the Autobots back on Cybertron before Synapse’s appearance on this Gillenan III.

The sound of voices, no, just one voice makes him pause in mid-step outside of the morgue. Long Haul? Keeping his approach as silent as possible, Synapse edges towards the doorway. Yes, it’s Long Haul. He seems to have gotten here first. Synapse moves to slip away, but the Constructibot’s words catch his fleeing attention, drawing him back.

"Besides... Scrapper... one of the things Scrapper always told me was, if you really want to honor the dead, you make it a part of the living. We Transformers... we ain't good about death. We live for so long, we can get to pretending it don't never happen, 'least not until we come face to face with it. And then when it does happen... well, if we just shove away the evidence,1 we can go and forget about it again, right?"

Death, yes, Synapse is familiar with it, he can’t pretend that it doesn’t happen. But Long Haul’s words ring a bell in that…shoving away all signs of it is a way he’s used to dealing with its encroaching presence. The way that he’d glaze over the bodies of dead Autobots and Decepticons while on patrol runs back on Cybertron (a risky and silly thing to do, but…he did it), the way he always buried himself away in base whenever they did bring bodies back from sudden firefights on the surface.

He edges around the doorway to peer at Long Haul’s back, listening with a curious aptness to words that probably are not meant for his hearing. Honor him by living. ‘By living’? What does that mean?

Synapse ponders too long, as he’s caught unawares as Long Haul turns around. He might be a microsecond too late when he tries to pull back away from the door unnoticed, a guilty expression on his face.

[Long Haul]

Long Haul finishes his turn, and his optic band flashes as he catches motion. His blue optic band flashes. He thought he was alone! He calls out, "Who's there?" and walks quickly to the crude hinge door in the hopes of catching a glimpse of them.

[Synapse]

Stealth and escape may be somethings that Synapse excels at, but at the moment, these skills seem to escape him as he's instead left frozen nanoseconds that tick by much too slowly. Long Haul's too close for Synapse to escape unnoticed, but that doesn't mean he won't try as he edges as quickly and quietly as he can down the hall. His escape is brought to an end at the Constructibot's query and the sound of the other's footsteps.

Once again paralyzed, he presses himself into the wall as if hoping that somehow, it would just swallow him up, saving him from this embarrassment. The words spill out before he can stop them. "I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to...mean to eavesdrop!" The plaintive look that had been cast in Long Haul's direction is exchanged for an abashed stare at the ground.

[Long Haul]

Long Haul shrugs. "Well, if you din't mean to, there ain't nothing to be sorry for, right?" Then he straightens a bit and adds, perhaps a touch defensively, "Not like I was doin' anything wrong, anyways.” He shrugs. "So I was talkin' with a dead guy. What of it?"

He then hesitates, tilts his head, and considers. "Any reason you're here, Synapse?"

[Synapse]

"No, n-nothing," murmurs Synapse, mind racing. Had he perhaps made his apology too accusatory? What's he supposed to say now? Would it sound absolutely ridiculous? Still peppered by these thoughts, Synapse tries to answer Long Haul's last question. His response simultaneously being formulated and and torn down in his mind as he stands there jaw working soundlessly.

When something not half ridiculous does come, Synapse carefully draws himself away from the support of the wall and says, voice a little calmer. "I...just wanted to tell him 'thank you'" That's not too bad, is it?

[Long Haul]

Well, it's why Long Haul is here, after all! The Constructibot tilts his head. "Why you so scared alla the time, Synapse? Ain't no one here gonna hurt you! Just me and these guys." His head jerks back towards the contents of the room.

Long Haul reaches a hand towards the timid Autobot, but doesn't touch him, then he gestures inside, welcoming him. "Yeah, c'mon in. You know more about this guy than I do, anyways."

[Synapse]

Synapse isn't sure of how to respond. Scared? Well, there's no telling when situations turn sour and things can go wrong. How can Long Haul be so confident and at ease? There's no telling when a Decepticon raid is going to go down, or when one's comrades are going to jump out of shadows to string you up for the next base joke. But then again, this isn't Cybertron and this isn't back home. Synapse carefully relaxes his servos, shoulders dropping a couple degrees.

He doesn't flinch back at Long Haul's hand, though he does keep a very close eye on it as he steps forward back towards the room. "I only know bits and pieces from word of mouth and holo records." Synapse enters and stops has he gets a view of Optimus Prime's corpse. Looking more in one piece than the two he had seen back in the desert makes the Prime even more recognizable. "I never expected to meet him in this fashion..." He never expected to meet him at all.

[Long Haul]

Long Haul only strings people up when he really, really likes them! He doesn't know Synapse that well yet.

"Well, y'know, most people don't say to themselves, 'Hey, he's a really great man. Maybe I'll meet 'im while he's dead!'" He steps back to give Synapse his space - sure is a nervous fellow, isn't he? Then he admits, "Holo records and whatnot is more'n I had. If he was around when I was taken, word hadn't got out too far."

[Synapse]

A smile, a small, shaky one, but definitely a smile, slips out at Long Haul's words before Synapse knows it. "No...I suppose they don't," he approaches the body and stops a few feet away. He reaches out a hand and carefully passes it lightly over Prime's greyed shoulder, barely skimming its surface. He pauses when the idea that this possibly might not be the right thing to be doing enters his mind. His attention darts back to Long Haul, searching the other for any reaction before quickly withdrawing his hand as if caught snatching energon goodies.

"Ah well...I could loan you some holos," he says, catching interest in the floor. "He's--was--a really great individual. Compassionate, patient, strong. I'm--I'm sure he would have..." Synapse struggles and fails to find the proper words. "...liked you?" Yes, definitely wrong words, but he just can't find the right ones. No one ever pegged Synapse for a smooth-talking mech.

[Long Haul]

Long Haul doesn't appear to have any problems with Synapse going touchy-feely on the corpse. While he may have not had to deal with dying as often as these robots who have seen so much war, he seems on somewhat more casual terms with death itself. In fact, he fully intends to argue for the continued use of parts from these sources once the ability to fabricate new ones is gained. Part of it is efficiency and compatibility. But to his way of thinking, part of it is respect.

It's at the 'liked you' part that Long Haul does look up, a bit sharply. He has, after all, every reason to believe that Optimus Prime has met him, and did not like him. But, after a moment of looking silently at Synapse, he chooses not to voice his thoughts on that matter. Instead, he shrugs. "Yeah, I think I'd like to see the holos, if you don't mind."

[Synapse]

It's not as if Synapse has some fetish for feeling up dead shells. It's just that, familiarization by touch is something he's more attuned to. The thing is he usually doesn't want to familiarize himself in such away with the people around him.

The sharp look is enough to cause Synapse to recoil a bit. If he had known what was running through Long Haul's mind, he'd be quick in trying to explain that Optimus meeting Long Haul is somewhat different than Optimus meeting this Long Haul. The Long Haul right in front of him. But...he doesn't.

"Ah...alright," Synapse murmurs softly as he reaches to pull a few disks from subspace. He closes the gap between himself and Long Haul hesitantly and reaches out to hand over said objects. "Just--just return them whenever you're done."

[Long Haul]

Long Haul sighs at the wince. "Look, I didn't mean... s'just kind of a touchy subject with me. Gonna... gonna have to learn to make it not, I s'pose. If folks keep arriving, I'll have to get used to it, right?" He accepts the holos, and, for all that his is rough and not graceful, he makes an effort not to contact Synapse when the other hands them over. Little guy's skittish enough as it is. "I'll get these back to you. I... I appreciate that you're loanin' 'em, really. Be nice to look 'em over, next time I have down time." Which is... unlikely to be real soon.

[Synapse]

The withdrawing look that had begun to develop on Synapse pauses as he listens to the other. He can't say anything but reluctantly nod. Long Haul is probably right. After all, how resistant was Synapse in the beginning to finally give himself over to the fact that Long Haul wasn't the Constructicon Long Haul that he's used to?

There's a relieved loosening of Synapse's motor functions when the Constructibot retrieves the holos without any contact. If Long Haul keeps up this usually overlooked courtesy, Perceptor's not going to be the only one that Synapse is going to be comfortable trailing around. "It's no problem," he already has most of them committed to memory. "...take your time."

No, that's actually not nervousness making Synapse halt at the moment.

[Jazz]

And there's noise from out in the regular repair area. Like someone's walking through, and not with any great care or stealth.
Not that he could if he tried. Or that the simple walls around the morgue could keep sound out or in.

The only reason that Jazz comes back into this area voluntarily, is that he's looking for someone. Most likely Perceptor, who let him go test his legs once they were reattatched. Well. Long after they were reattatched, along with a whole lot of other things.
To paraphrase 'Get smeared, almost die, and they're going to want to keep an optic and a few sensors on you for a good long time.' At least until you irritate the everliving crud out of them.
He's still happier that he's alive right now.

"Anyone 'round here?" An almost cautious call. Hopefully there's no one, and he can go back to doing whatever it was that he was going to do today. Helping buid. Helping find stuff. Going and exploring the little town, and maybe finding a bit better quality paint equivelent...
Jazz is almost twitching with the anticipation of going out to do some of the middle. Exploration. Yes. Standing still... Noooooooo. He's started pacing within the few minutes it's taken for the words to hit the other side of the room.
"Ok then--"