| |
[After his recent conversation with Kagerou, Deckard went looking for Drill Boy again. After all, there's not been anything he can do about the virus running around except avoid catching it. Though he HAS been on-call if anyone needs him. He made sure to tell people he was going out and to call him. In the meantime, he's searched all over Haven. He's searched all along the edges of the wastelands and even into them a little. Nothing. He came back to HQ for fuel and . . . can't help but be sure that he's found his answer.]
[It's not the one he wanted, though it's the one he knew deep in his heart was the truth.]
[The video comes on to him sitting at his desk with a monkey in his arms. He's opened his Link and...it still takes him a second to completely gather himself and manage to speak.]Drill Boy . . . he's . . . I-I think he's . . . [With a sudden scowl and shake of his head, he darts a hand forward to his Link and the video cuts. H-he can't.]
[Sorry . . . this is his first time losing someone. And it's one of his own. He can't help feeling that he's failed his team somehow, even though rationally he knows - he's been told - that this just happens sometimes and that there's nothing he could have done.]
[Several minutes later, there's a LOCKED video to McCrane, Power Joe, and Kagerou. He's regathered himself . . . though McCrane especially might notice that he looks a little too close, emotionally, to places he's been before. The look on his face is...a little on the hard side. He has really poor coping mechanisms for darker emotions like grief and abandonment.]Brave Police, sound in. ...please. | | |
|
[Well, it would seem that someone is finally sounding in. Took him long enough, especially considering that he seems to be using his sleeping back as a blanket, with a cup of something steaming in his hands. He sniffles.]How did this happen, I never get sick. Bah... Everyone should avoid my shack, maybe, I am contagious. It is probably that... whatever that is going around. Though if you happen to have soup I would not mind so much if you stopped by. | | |
|
[It's only been five days since he passed out, but for Bulkhead it's felt like much much longer. Months, probably close to a year if not more, had passed back home. So much happened. Too much happened. Especially the loss of Optimus. It turned a defeat of Unicron into a bittersweet victory.
It was a cruel irony after reviving Cybertron, and life being restored to the Well. But at least the rest of the team had each other. Would help each other through this, like with everything else that had happened.
He gives a groan as his systems power up again, after being down for a days. His eyes lighting up as he sits up, rubbing at his helm for a moment. Before he looks around, hand dropping as he blinks for a moment. Wondering where he is, before it clicks in his mind again. He glances at his shoulder, feeling that comforting weight of the familiar glyph again.
Oh, right.]
Home sweet home.
[He mutters, as he swings his legs over the side of the berth he was on. Other than a little banged up considering he was real recently in a ship crash he's otherwise in good shape physically.
Right, time to locate people, and find out who's still here. He pushes up and stretches, before heading out of the room.
Later, he send out a short audio message.]
Uh, hey. Guess I'm back. Uh...I miss anything? ...how long was I out?
[Feel free to encounter him in the temple, the room, or contact over the comms.] | | |
|
|
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}