[You always know there's something wrong with your body. Wheeljack knew that better than anyone right now. He didn't bring it up to anyone--figured he'd just been working too hard getting his ship completed, and the fatigue was finally setting in. Sleep should fix that eventually, right? No. Getting up in the mornings got increasingly more difficult. It went from fifteen minutes...to a half hour...hour... His body just wouldn't work with him. It didn't do what he told it to.
And that scared him.
He fought harder to act normal, mentally pushing himself to seem like everything was like any other day, only to drive away that sense of fear. That something might be happening to him. But now, it wasn't just his physical movement--
Everything seemed muted.
Conversations would echo in his head, bounce through his helm. It was distracting--and almost painful, the way the noises echoed on and on. He gripped his helm, disguising it as just rubbing his head, when he talked to others. But it got worse. Headaches came with it. And everytime he tried to find a way to tell Bulkhead, he just passed it off as an average migraine.
Maybe he'd call Percy. Or see Barricade. Or Ambulon. To put his worries to ease.
With his Link out, he's about to send a private message to either of them, on his way back from the Hub. But his body wouldn't work again, and mentally trying to push himself through it with his migraine just wasn't going to happen. The Link fell to the ground, clicking itself on as Wheeljack is shown, falling to his knees and panting.
If anyone happens to catch him like this, he'll have a few words to say, if he can get them out. Before collapsing on his side.]
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