rekindleme | Not before I see this justice done

Who: Krok, Ultra Magnus, other Autobots and/or Decepticons as interested; Krok and Chromedome (that one's private)
Where: Building 1; streets of the residential area (Chromedome only)
When: 5 July, evening.
Summary: Krok confronts Ultra Magnus about what's happened to Fulcrum. Chromedome, meanwhile, takes another step in dealing with the Decepticon infestation.
Warnings: Angry words, angst, memory tampering.

"ULTRA MAGNUS!"

Krok has never been imposing. He's neither tall nor bristling with weaponry, and his position as a strategist doesn't afford him many chances to practise being terrifying. But he has a voice, and it booms through the corridors like cannon fire as he storms toward the door of Tyrest's Chosen. If he holds onto his anger and his outrage, he can keep moving. If he holds onto the anger, he doesn't have to think about the way his spark aches and how he's inches from falling apart.

Fulcrum doesn't even sound like Fulcrum any more. It's like when they first found him. It's like the Fulcrum who made the leap for them is gone. And Krok knows who took him away. Krok knows who's responsible and there will be accountability or he will make his own justice.

He's pounding a fist on Ultra Magnus' door – the hand not clutching a plunger switch that he presses obsessively and repeatedly even as he stands there – before he even realises he's standing in front of it. He can barely see what he's doing; his optics are too bright, filaments overheating, light spilling from the corners in trails that follow him as he moves.

"ULTRA MAGNUS, ANSWER ME!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wait, so Ironhide has missing memories, too? Krok flounders, torn between the rage that Chromedome might have attacked someone else like this – even an Autobot – and the shock, the despair that if Chromedome did this, too, then Ultra Magnus doesn't care at all. He's drowning in it.

He sinks under the weight of it all, dropping to his knees right there in the hallway, shoulders bowed. The broken switch hits the floor with a clatter and rolls a couple of feet towards Ironhide. Krok doesn't even look up at it.

"…I'm sorry," he says quietly, and he isn't even sure who he's apologising to any more.

That... isn't the reaction he expects to get. Not at all. It actually sends him rocking back a step. He blinks, looking down at the thing rolling across the floor.

It doesn't feel good. Any of this.

Broad shoulders heave in a sigh, and the big bot kneels, scooping the object carefully into one hand. He shuffles forward a bit, until he can offer it to the Decepticon.

"Uh... Here."

The apology, he doesn't comment on. He doesn't know how to, really. Short of brushing it off, because, for once, this isn't a Decepticon's fault.

"You got somewhere to stay...?" Because leaving a collapsed bot in the middle of a hallway doesn't sit right -- Decepticon or no.

Edited 2014-07-11 23:00 (UTC)

"Our hab suite," Krok says softly, looking up and staring at the switch in Ironhide's hand. It looks so tiny, he thinks dully. So tiny to hold every fear and anxiety he feels about losing his crew. "The others are there… I- I wanted to speak with…" But he trails off there. He didn't want to speak with Ultra Magnus so much as he wanted to make demands. To be angry and hurt and try to make someone else hurt.

Because, he tells himself, afraid, they won't help.

"I wanted him to do something about… Chromedome. For hurting us. For taking-" he can't finish the sentence, sobbing instead.

"Maybe... you should get back anyway," he says, quietly, still offering the switch. He doesn't mean for it to sound threatening, or angry, or anything like that. He honestly just... doesn't know what to do here. What to say or do.

"I dunno if he's in, I mean." He shakes his head. "I ain't gonna force you anywhere, just... dunno if it'd be better to sit out here or what."

And he looks away, sighing.

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth. We... it ain't supposed to be like this."

At least, he'd never thought it was.

No, Krok thinks, it wasn't supposed to be like this at all. He and his crew were supposed to be safe for once – it's a strange city in a strange world, yes, but they don't risk being stranded should the ship run out of fuel, or break down; they don't have to be wary of DJD or Autobots or any of the countless galactic races who wouldn't think twice about wiping a few pathetic Decepticons off the map. They were supposed to be safe and happy. And now…

"…I need to speak with him," Krok says. With a trembling hand, he finally reaches up to take the switch back.

"... All right."

He doesn't move his hand, or try to jerk it away or... anything. Just keeps it steady until the Decepticon takes his item back. Only then does he straighten, and, creaking in the joints, press his back to the wall, arms folded.

He glances up and down the hall a few times.

"Used to be a bodyguard, y'know?" he drawls, seemingly out of nowhere. "Go on. Wait for 'im. I'll play furniture."

It takes Krok a second or two before he catches on to what Ironhide says, and then he just stares at the big red Autobot for a moment, speechless, too stunned even to finish standing. It's a gesture he certainly never expected.

"You… you don't have to," he murmurs, humbled, looking down to the broken thing in his hand. After all the shouting and the accusations, Ironhide still intends to stand by? For him? It's like Ironhide and Ratchet have some plan to completely dismantle Krok's long-held opinion of Autobots by treating him with decency. "Stay, that is. I'm…." Fine on his own? Able to defend himself? Really, he could argue self-defence until the sun burns out and he's still relatively certain he'd be found at fault. Finally, he just says, "I don't want to impose."

"I know I don't."

He says it flatly, but does his best to keep his tone from turning harsh. He's still... trying to sort this all out in his head. Without much luck. He leans back against the wall -- a solid weight -- his optics still flicking up and down the corridor.

"But Autobots're supposed to be lookin' out for the little guys. Protectin' people," he says, barely glancing down at the Decepticon. As if doing so is going to shatter his resolve. "Supposed to, anyway. That's what I signed on for."

A beat passes, and the big shoulders lift and fall in a shrug.

"That ain't changed. Not for me. I'll stay."

"I–" Krok is at something of a loss for words. He's never been good with them, so now he just fumbles even more. Anxiously, he worries the broken switch between his hands for a moment.

It isn't as though he can make Ironhide leave… not even if he wants to.

"…Thank you," he says as he climbs unsteadily to his feet, and he means it. His knock when he goes back to Magnus' door is more circumspect.

"Yeah."

He doesn't know what else to say. He... really doesn't. Words aren't his strong suit, anyway. Never have been.

He'll do better, acting. Even if acting is just staying put, standing guard.

At least it's something.

Krok waits… maybe an impolite length of time, knocking periodically, before he finally gives up. Maybe Ultra Magnus really isn't in, and now he's too tired to go searching. He just wants to snap his fingers and make everything… not horrifying again. Of course, he can't do that.

But he can try and put a bandage on something. He turns back to Ironhide when he lets his hand drop to his side.

"Thank you… again. For staying," he offers, very quietly, awkward. He's still not used to thanking Autobots for anything. Nothing sincere at least. The next part is even more uneasy. "And I'm – I want to apologise. For shouting at you."

He really doesn't expect anything else. Standing guard -- it's familiar. He doesn't mind it. To say the least. Anything familiar at this point is a bonus. Though he does blink when he's addressed again.

"Huh?"

A... thank you? Really? He can only stare for a long minute, dumbfounded. His jaw works, and he shakes his head.

"It's the right thing to do," he says, simply. "An' don't worry 'bout the rest. I got a temper on me, too. So... yeah."

"Not many would do the right thing for someone like me," Krok says, unabashedly bitter for a moment. Ultra Magnus and the other Autobots couldn't be bothered to step in and stop Chromedome, and now look what's happened.

But Ironhide doesn't seem to be part of that. In some ways, Krok needs that little bit of decency right now as much as he wants justice.

"War's over," he grunts. "None of your guys ever did nothin' to me."

That, and memory loss is a touchy subject for him. But -- really. Fighting amongst each other after everyone says things are said and done? It makes no sense. They wanted things to end. They wanted the war stopped...

... why keep fighting?

"Don't really see why I shouldn't do somethin'."

Not before I see this justice done

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject