re_alignment

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!event: glyphless

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[ He intended for this to be audio, but he's not in the best of ways at the moment. Tailgate's outside, but it's hard to say where with the way the feed keeps juddering about. What is clear is flashes of Tailgate, covered in energon. ]

I-I can't-- I didn't--

No no no no no no no I didn't mean to I didn't want to--

Please make it stop m-make it stop I hurt him I hurt him so bad and I can't stop it I c-can't--

[ He breaks off in a ragged sob, grabbing at his head with energon-soaked hands, curling in on himself. ]

Stop it stop it stop please I wanted to do it I did it and I want to do it again and it won't stop make it stop please please PLEASE!

[ There's another sob and Tailgate takes off, running in some direction. ]

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so fragging sorry please I don't want to do it again I don't--

[ The feed cuts out. ]

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[Okay. Why not.

Ultra Magnus had seen the network post by Tailgate as soon as he'd left to claim Hot Rod's body. But it seems a detour is now needed.

So he's on his way. Once Tailgate is in sight, Magnus transforms.

The enforcer is already damaged. Many parts of his plating have been torn off, melted, or gripped hard enough in various locations to have bent. There's utter exhaustion, but here he is anyway.]

Tailgate.

Magnus--!

[ There's a sharp rush of relief, followed by something darker, that insistent screeching in his processor to rip, to tear, to hurt, to kill.

Tailgate freezes in place, his limbs trembling as he tries to hold himself back. ]

No no no you can't be here you can't I'll hurt you please please I don't want to hurt anyone!

Tailgate.

[Ultra Magnus kneels down and looks at him carefully.]

I know you don't. That it was not your own action.

Whose energon is that on you?

[ Tailgate's voice is little more than a tremulous, pleading whisper. ]

Please Magnus. I want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. I can't-- It won't stop I just want to tear everything apart and--

Please please make it stop I don't want to hurt anyone again I--

Swerve-- I'm covered in-- It's in my head and it won't stop and it won't stop and I can't stop--

[ He sobs, taking an abortive step toward Magnus, his hands grasping at air at his sides. ]

[It doesn't show very much, but his spark. It clenches as he listens to Tailgate.

Reluctantly, he retrieves his pistol with one hand, the other held out to Tailgate.]

I know.

I should have been able to stop this. I will finish it here.

Come here, Tailgate.

[ He takes another step forward, hands reaching up before he can stop himself, reaching for Magnus--

But then he stops, pulling his hands to his chestplate, shaking. ]

I don't wanna die but I hurt him, I wanna hurt more people, I can't stop it--

[ He looks even smaller than usual, chin tucked low, nearly hugging himself as he trembles, trying to suppress the urge to hurt. ]

Magnus, I'm scared.

There is no shame in feeling fear.

[The offered hand settles to Tailgate's shoulder.]

Shut off your optics. I want you to count to ten in your head. Just focus on counting.

[ The hand just makes it worse, at once comforting and urging on the strange compulsion to damage and kill. ]

I'm sorry.

[ His optics offline slowly, his shaking growing worse. ]

I'm so sorry.

It's all right.

[Steady and careful, he aims his pistol to Tailgate's forehead.]

I'll take care of the rest.

[He pulls the trigger.]

Tailgate! Tailgate where are you now!?

I-I'm--

No, no you have to stay away it's not safe I'm not safe I hurt him so bad!

Tailgate I...I know it bad but you can't run away we need to ..eh..lock you somewhere until we find a way to stop it.

You have to stay away from me!

I..I know you are _scared but I just want to help.

I-I don't want to hurt you Blurr but if you come here I'll hurt you like I hurt Swerve and--

Please just stay away!

Swerve!? [Oh Primus...Okay, okay, Blurr clam down.] you didn't do it on purpose I know AND that's why we need to lock you until we find a way to SOLVE it Running away won't help anybody.

[Swerve is nothing if not a mech who works with what he has. What he has now is materials to make straws. What he doesn't have is his lower jaw.

He spends the first few minutes after Tailgate runs off horrified with what has happened choking on his own energon. He passes out. He wakes up wondering what's happened to Tailgate, then chokes some more. He reaches for the dresser and passes out again. This goes on for a while, either him passing out from energon loss or pain. It takes him some time, willpower, and a sharp piece of glass from who knows what to slice into himself and rig up tubing so he doesn't end up flooding his systems and somehow managing to extinguish his spark with his own lifeblood.

He cuts. He twists in piping. He passes out. He wakes up and remembers what went on and what happened. He starts again. By the time Magnus finds him, whenever he finds him, Swerve has managed to pass out in the middle of starting to try and fix whatever passes for the electrical wiring of his lower jaw.

He is nothing if not a resourceful mech.]

[Tailgate is dead. That much is certain. Ultra Magnus then had to make a choice. Run off and drop off Tailgate's body to the lab and hope Swerve was still alive, or go right to Swerve after killing the small mech.

He chose to carry Tailgate, gently deposit him outside, then rush in to tend to Swerve.

The enforcer peers down quietly, optics glowing remorsefully before he's kneeling down. That is sincerely impressive work, he finds.]

This will hurt, Swerve.

[So he reaches in, to complete what Swerve was attempting to accomplish.]

[Swerve is twitching, groaning and choking a little when Magnus starts. Eventually he's conscious and tense, hands clenching and un-clenching. The pads of his fingers press into the floor and as he digs in and culrs his hands into fists, they stat to leave long scratches and red paint transfers. He's trying his best not to panic in a way that makes him want to scream. Screaming, he has learned, is not a good idea when your jaw is mostly comprised of tubing.

Speaking isn't something he can manage now. Not like this. Instead he lifst a hand and shakily traces a question mark in the air before letting it drop back to the floor with a 'clunk'.]

Put your hands--

[He stops what he's doing, if only to force Swerve's hands onto his own wrists. He doesn't want to have another repair job for his hands as well; Ultra Magnus's wrists will work better. More plating.

The enforcer gets back to his work, focusing best he can.]

I'll get you to Ambulon and First Aid soon.

This was. ... Clever, your self-repair.

[Talking and comfort? Not a skill of his. But he feels a responsibility in this, all things considered.]

[Swerve lets out a few hisses of pain and resists the urge to push Magnus away. Things tend to hurt less when done by the person who's damage it is, but he's been passing out on and off for quite some time. It says a lot that he's not sure if he can trust his hands, which are digging into Magnus' wrists pretty hard. They loosen when he becomes conscious of the pressure, and he eventually settles for a repetitive squeezing motion.

He tries for a coherent word at least once and hacks up a bit of energon instead, then traces the word 'sorry' onto Magnus' plating. Now that he gets a good look at Magnus through all the haze of pain and energon-loss, he's seeing how badly the other mech is damaged. That garners a look of sympathy and a small pat on the wrist. A poor consolation, he knows, but it's all he's really in the position to offer.]

[The pressure is notable, but it's not enough to keep him from working. He figures it'll be easier to put the pressure on something than one's own hands, at any rate.

He glances down at the writing, then frowns a fraction more. Not in disapproval, just -- the situation.]

You owe no apology to me.

[The patting makes him pause, briefly. His optics shutter, then he refocuses on arranging the repair Swerve's made for himself.]

I. Will be fine.

There. That's all I'm about able to do. I'll take you to the medbay.

[Without any warning, he's just going to scoop up Swerve up into one arm. He's small enough and Ultra Magnus is certainly large enough.]

[Swerve looks at him in a way that is supposed to convey 'that's not what I meant by sorry', but it's not exactly the easiest thing to pull off with just his eyeridge and visor. It's only been a few hours at most, and he already misses talking.

A somewhat screeching sort of noise is really the only thing he can manage in protest and Swerve curls himself up into a ball, trying to look indignant and failing. Possibly because he isn't upset and does appreciate the effort Magnus is going through on his part.

He tilts his head, wincing when he pulls tubes and wiring too far, and reaches out to lightly trace 'what happened?' onto Magnus' chest, followed by 'Tailgate?']

Easy.

[Carefully, he cradles the smaller mech in his grip and begins to make the trek on foot. Ultra Magnus should go back for Tailgate's body, but he isn't about to subject Swerve to that.

He pauses at the writing on his chest, then looks straight ahead. Frankly, he can't bear to look at Swerve with what he has to say next.]

I approached Tailgate. He was going mad, like the others.

I... took care of it.

[There's no simple way of explaining that he had to shoot Tailgate in the head.]

[He vents a sigh and his eyeridge slants into a 'V' shape before snapping back the opposite way. It's a lot for him to process in his state, but he gets there.

He gets that others have been going insane. He figures it's probably the Glyphless, which means he owes Alpha Trion an apology. He gets that this happened to Tailgate most of all, considering he's missing his lower jaw and whatever goes with it.

Vague phrasing doesn't exactly fly with him. He's a prankster and a chatterbox, but Swerve is far from being an idiot. He can piece things together well enough, and he bunches up tighter and puts his face in his hands.]

Swerve...

[Usually, he can detach himself personally when it comes to these things. Deaths of comrades and the like. Even if he feels a certain bond with them, he keeps himself in line because he has to.

He's never had to deal with anything like this. It's hard. And he feels a certain responsibility for it now.]

I'm sorry. I couldn't do much else for him.

[The heels of his palms dig into his tubing, and no matter how much he hates himself for not listening, for not taking anything seriously, he's never been fond of pain. Even if he thinks he deserves it. He uncurls slowly and pulls his hands from his face, clenching them into fists in his lap. His brain module is working a mile a minute thinking up something to say, something he can't say. Instead he tries to trace it onto Magnus' plating, but it's too much and too fast and he gives up.

Swerve settles for tracing 'you did what you had to', followed by 'what about the others'. He wants to trace something consoling. Something that will make this alright, but he doesn't have anything that would cut it. He wouldn't even believe his own words if he did.]

[Carefully, he observes Swerve, ready to take action if he has to. Fortunately, that doesn't appear necessary. No doubt Swerve is feeling frantic; who could blame him?

His head lowers slightly. What he had to. He supposes so; what other option did he have?

The others...]

Rodimus went insane and killed Drift. I killed Rodimus.

[Every time he says it, he feels himself growing more numb, his voice flat and exhausted.]

I don't know about everyone else yet.

[At the news, Swerve cringes. He cannot say he was as close to Rodimus, or even to Drift, as Magnus was. To him they were always sort of the in-command trifecta, even if they didn't always seem to have a plan.

And now two of them are dead.

There is a clenching feeling in his chest, and suddenly he feels utterly lost.

Swerve settles into a monotonous tapping and a blank stare before hesitantly writing out 'I'm sorry you had to do that'. He trails off into more tapping. He wants to say that it isn't fair that Magnus had to kill Rodimus. That it isn't fair that Drift died. But when has anything ever been fair?]

[One hand clenches faintly; he tries to not think too much on the matter, how he feels. Otherwise it'll be harder to keep moving.

Which is what is needed of him.]

So am I.

[Grimly, Ultra Magnus looks out ahead as he continues on.]

Try to not waste your energy right now. We'll be at the medbay soon enough.

[It's sad that Magnus has to push his grief aside, and it's sad that Swerve is willing to let him so that he might soak in his own, but that is apparently what's happening. Sometimes that's the way life is.

Swerve doesn't really drift off completely, partially because he's scared of reliving memories in his sleep. He's drowsy though, dizzy from injuries and pain. Mechs of his make weren't really built to endure this sort of thing and stay conscious. He doesn't idly tap anymore, but he does manage to trace out a 'Thanks for coming to find me'.

There is a pause and then he finished his thought.

'You didn't have to, but you did. So thanks.']

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WARNING FOR MILD GORE | POST-A BUNCH OF THINGS HAPPENING

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