re_alignment_logs | Moving in Reverse [Narrative/Closed Log]

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Moving in Reverse [Narrative/Closed Log]

WHO: Thundercracker, Knock Out
WHERE: Knock Out's medbay
WHEN: Backdated to the 5th following this thread
WHAT: TC's finally gonna do that thing he's been telling himself he should just fragging do for over a year now . . . get the brands removed from his wings.
WARNINGS: None. Will update if needed.
NOTE: If only for my own reference, the convo with Four is here. Also . . . L-LOL sorry, Lylith - this kind of turned into a wall-o'-text narrative to start things off. OTL (and PPS - Yes, I know Fracas is technically no longer here, but at this point in time, TC doesn't know that...)

Thundercracker stood outside of Solus's temple, staring up its sharp, ashy-black outer walls, wings twitching with the intense heat from the gorge. He'd been in and out of this temple countless times - the medbay was here - but this time . . . this time he had to work up to it. To going to the medbay. To talking to Knock Out.

To finally doing what he'd been telling himself he was going to do for . . . how long now? For about as long as he'd been in Haven. If he were truly honest with himself, for countless vorns before that even, if only as a faint pipe-dream hidden down in the deepest recesses of his spark.

He'd come close once. Twice. The first time he'd started seriously considering it, Skywarp had shown up in Haven. Not "his" Skywarp, but at least he felt he had someone he could turn to again, someone who shared at least similar enough experiences, something he'd not had since arriving. It had been enough for a while to quiet the turmoil in his spark, but eventually, he'd started to air his thoughts and concerns to his fellow Seeker. Skywarp wasn't overly happy, but he could see where Thundercracker was coming from. In the end, he'd left the decision in Thundercracker's hands and promised not to harass him about it too much if he decided to renounce - even his own TC had always been disillusioned and malcontent. Thundercracker had finally all but worked up the courage again. But then . . . Four . . . Tarn had branded her. The fragger had branded her! And . . . she'd been so happy, feeling like she belonged to something bigger than herself, feeling like a person, feeling . . . closer to him.

"He said that the Decepticons were about freedom of choice, and that they fought for equality. He said that the Decepticons were the harder path."

"He's right about it being the harder path, especially for some. It has been for me."

Thundercracker was old, easily one of the oldest among those here barring the First-Forged themselves. And he'd been around since before there'd been a civil war tearing his people and his world asunder. He remembered the inequalities and the malcontent with the ruling regime. He remembered the grand plans, the underground campaigning, the master leader that his Megatron had once been. He remembered joining the fledgling resistance shortly after graduating with honors from the military academy in Vos. He was a soldier, one of the aerial elite, and he was going to help change their world. The weak and cowardly merely bowed to the Powers-That-Be, not daring to oppose them. Many of those in power were weak and cowardly as well, in their own way. And the rest were expected to just accept what was handed to them. But no longer. What was truly needed, what was wanted, even the world itself was there for the taking for those with the courage and the anger to dare to take it. Decepticons didn't bow and beg for what they needed, they simply claimed it and made good on that claim.

They'd not been out to create a dictatorship. At least, not by Thundercracker's understanding. But somewhere along the way, the idea of the Right of Rule had crept in, the right of the strong to dominate the weak. Or maybe it had been there all along and Thundercracker had somehow missed it. He no longer knew. Nor cared. It had happened, that was all that mattered. The Decepticons had become ruthless conquerors, with Megatron intent on setting himself up as a dictator - first of Cybertron, then of the whole galaxy. Megatron's soldiers ceased to be freedom fighters or even soldiers acting necessarily for a cause because they wanted to, but rather, more and more, were merely extensions of him, his weapons and tools for his own personal gains. Because it meant wanton destruction, most were perfectly happy with this - their ranks had grown to include largely criminals, sociopaths, and the like. War had lost its glory and its sense of purpose, becoming merely a vehicle for mounting body counts as his fellows mowed down enemies and innocents with equal abandon. The Seeker had learned early on - the hard way - to trust his own companions even less than he might his enemies. Not that he thought all that kindly of Autobots - they were still weak idealists in his mind, but at least he could say he could more or less trust their goody-two-shoes principles to not shoot him in the back as soon as he turned it.

He'd wanted out. Dear Primus, he'd wanted out. War with a purpose was one thing, but the endless, senseless fighting had worn him thin - not only with the Autobots but the ridiculous strife within his own faction. The only thing that kept them all from tearing each other apart from the inside out was a collective terror of Megatron. And it was a terror well-placed. The Supreme Commander of the Decepticon forces was an immensely powerful force himself (regardless of what Starscream said). His own fright of Megatron was one of the two singular things that kept Thundercracker firmly where he was expected to be (and what had that been about the weak and cowardly merely bowing to the Power-That-Be??). The other was his trine . . . he would stay where his trine was, no matter the consequences or the personal cost.

Then . . . he found himself in Haven.

His trine wasn't here, and the closest approximation was one he rarely to never had any dealings with at all, even to this day. Megatron hadn't been here either. Members of both factions were here but . . . the war expressly was not. Thundercracker had suddenly found himself with no allies, no leadership, no purpose . . . nothing. For the first time in almost longer than he could remember, there was no one to direct him, no one to threaten him, no one to cow him into doing what they expected of him. His time - his life - was his own as it had not been since before his days in the academy so many lifetimes ago.

It took him a long time to accept it, to quit waiting for the hammer to fall. Or the fusion cannon to fire, as the case may be.

It had taken him a long time - probably too long, in others' views - for him to start venturing out . . . interacting with people without expecting to be attacked for who and what he was, seeking some kind of hobby or employment as a means of occupying his time. He'd taken a position at the brand-new bar that Wing had helped build, serving as a bouncer. After helping with the Glyphless mess - and proving himself at the same time - he joined the police force with the encouragement of Blurr, one of the very few friends he managed to make yet at the time . . . and an Autobot at that.

Friend. That alone still blew his mind, that he had any, that he could have any. It was something he'd all but given up when he joined the Decepticons. He and his trinemates knew to trust no one outside of their own trine (and even that could be questionable as often as not). He didn't have that advantage here, but what he did have . . . he still sometimes had a hard time accepting as real. He still found himself questioning and half-expecting to be turned on, cast out, betrayed, abandoned. But then he'd put names and faces on those fears and . . . they'd never hold up. Once he thought of the people behind the ideas, he couldn't hold the belief that they'd just decide one day they were done with him. Blurr, his first friend here . . . white-Megatron, Ventus, Rose, McCrane, Ravage, Fracas . . . more recently Bulkhead, white-Starscream, Axel, maybe Knock Out and Skylynx. Not to mention those who'd been here and since left.

Thundercracker had lost his nerve to wipe his brands as often as he'd decided to go through with it. And that had been even before Megatron had come to Haven - the grey one, the powerful one, the one that reminded him far too much of his own, the one who . . . who terrified him as much as his own. In all honesty, when Megatron arrived, Thundercracker had . . . well . . . panicked, pure and simple. The mech had yet to truly try to force Thundercracker to do anything, or punish him for his choices in what he'd decided to do with himself here, but then . . . the Seeker had hardly given him real opportunity either.

One of Solus's Acolytes came out to meet him, he'd been standing and staring for so long. No . . . no, he was fine, he didn't need anything, he'd be going to the medbay, he just needed another moment. Finally, getting the Acolyte to leave him alone, his gaze traveled back up the Temple, and then to the sky itself, his sparkright as a Seeker and the freedom it had always meant to him. A shudder ran through him, his wings twitching with the thought of Megatron ripping them off for even considering what he was about to do. He remembered Tarn's attempt to document and control any Decepticon who wished to renounce his loyalty to the faction, and Rose's promise that Tarn would not be allowed to keep anyone from doing so if he chose to. He remembered Blurr and white-Megatron both promising that they had his back if Megatron - the grey one - ever tried to force Thundercracker to follow him or otherwise do anything to him. He couldn't remember if McCrane had ever said anything similar, but if not, he felt sure the Earth-bot would back him up, regardless. And others. Maybe more than he thought, even, though that might be too hopeful. But even a few were enough.

Thundercracker was tired. Tired of living in fear. Tired of being at someone's beck and call. Tired of being merely a weapon to point. Tired of the meaninglessness of war and the slaughter of innocents. He was a soldier, not a murderer, fraggit!

"Four . . . I've helped to level whole cities. I've killed countless people, including innocents, in the name of the Decepticons."

He'd told Four that he wasn't a good person, something he still more or less believed. He'd done too much. He'd let himself be cajoled or cowed into doing too much. She'd responded that she loved him the way he was.

What would you do now, little one, if you knew what I was here to do?

He thought she'd approve, actually, now that he thought of it. She'd encourage him. She'd always been so accepting like that. He snorted a soft laugh just then, low and wry. Here he was, an ancient Cybertronian, one of Megatron's ranking officers, an elite aerial combatant, looking for the permission of a tiny, sentient gardening glove. He knew he should probably be disgusted with himself, but all he could feel was wry amusement. And grief. Primus, he missed her. And Skywarp. And others. But he was here, and here he would stay if he had any choice in the matter. Here, he could be himself again. Here, he was free.

"Freedom and equality . . . our brand did mean those things. Once. A very long time ago."

If he truly wanted that, he had to reverse what he'd done. He had to find the courage and the anger to once more stand up and find the power in himself to take what he truly wanted, what he needed. Before, he'd had his trinemates with him. Now, he felt alone, standing out here on the step of Solus's Temple. But he wasn't. Not really. There were many at his back now, people he trusted, people he knew he was safe trusting.

Every horrific consequence he could think of played through his mind as he pulled his gaze from the sky back down to the doors of the temple. Megatron raging at him, taking his wings, locking him away somewhere until he agreed to submit once more, beating him, playing on his claustrophobia... Would this one, the grey one so like his own, do any of that? He didn't know. He didn't want to know. But...it...wasn't like he'd never been beaten and even tortured before. And if he disappeared for any length of time, he knew there'd be people who would look for him. If Megatron killed him, he'd either find himself waking up on the altar in Alpha Trion's Temple, or . . . or it would just all be over, period. So really, what did he have to lose? Versus what he could gain. No...

What he would gain.

Wings hitched high, Thundercracker squared his shoulders, feeling the fear turn to anger, fueling his determination. One step forward, another . . . another . . . he passed through the doors of the temple and wouldn't stop till he reached the medbay.

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If Knock Out knew what was going on inside Thudercracker's processor he would have smiled sadly at him. He also lost faith in the cause long time ago, long before he changed sides and decided to join the autobot's team. But staying with Megatron was safer, in a way. He knew what happened to those who betrayed him, or just thought of it. He saw it first hand with Starscream and Dreadwing.

However, Knock Out also noticed the growing madness of his former master and how useless the cause had become. Like Thundercracker, he was tired of follow order, tired of not being given any respect or even considered anything else but a pawn. He was, more than anything, a practical mech. There was no point on following a path that lead to nowhere. But that was a story for another day.

Once the seeker arrived, he found Knock Out with his arms crossed, looking not all that amused. "You are late. What took you so long?"

"Something came up." Namely the metaphorical brick wall he hit when he landed on the steps of the temple, but he wasn't sure he wanted to admit to that just yet. Or ever.

He caught himself shifting his weight on his feet in uncertain anxiety, wings flicking, and he made himself hold still. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides. He pulled his gaze away from the medic for a moment in the hopes of keeping Knock Out from thinking he was grimacing at him. It took him another moment to speak again, and when he did, his tone was low and about as serious as the medic's likely heard from him.

"Knock Out . . . how hard is it to remove a brand? A Decepticon brand." Or four.

Knock Out might or might not be able to read the suppressed nervousness in the pinch of his face, the set of his shoulders, the hitch of his wings. He'd never been much good at acting, and he'd been too long in Haven now for his stoic "game face" to be as polished as it once was.

Especially to someone he knows for fact he won't be "in trouble" with . . . if anything, because this is the one mech who'd understand more than anyone else. He was highly aware of this.

Knock Out is a patient person if the situation requires it. He also has been in presence of mechs that had trouble expressing their thoughts often enough to know when to press the issue or when it was better to wait. He chooses the later and when the brand question comes up it doesn't take him much to understand.

"Let's discuss this in my private office."

The clinic is a secure place as far as the employees are concerned. Knock Out is the only medic now that Barricade was gone, Sora couldn't care less about factions and the droids he got from Shockwave weren't smart enough to catch up on the implications of what Thundercracker wanted to do.

But Knock Out can't say the same about his patients. He sees both Autobots and Decepticons and he doesn't want any of them to hear them just in case. The office is big and has a special security system, they won't be disturbed in here.

"I put them on Optimus Prime once and the next time I saw him the Decepticon insignia was gone. It's not hard to remove them but it's a hard decision to take. Are you sure about this?"

Thundercracker glances around again and silently curses. He'd not seen or heard anyone else when he came in. That didn't mean there was no one else anywhere in the clinic. He nods and follows easily, relaxing a fraction when the door closes behind them.

The initial comment shocks him enough that he almost completely misses the question at the end. "Your world's Optimus wore the brand once?" Okay . . . he'd have to ask for that story sometime. Because really. But he scowls and looks away again, fists clenching, as the question catches back up to him. "Yes." No. "I am." …mostly.

Thundercracker is lucky that Knock Out's is almost as paranoid as him when it comes to this sort of subject.

"If we get technical, it was Orion. When megatron and Optimus were inside Unicron he unleashed the Matrix to extinguishing Unicron's spark. His memory got lost in the process." Does that make sense? probably not but Knock Out's not going to explain himself better now.

"Hm." Guess who doesn't sounds all that convinced? This medic right here. "I usually don't care of question my patents decisions, I worked with Megatron and Starscream loge enough to know that sometimes it's better not to ask. But this time I want to know the full story. What's going on? Why this and why now?"

Thundercracker scowled for a moment. He didn't owe Knock Out an explanation. He didn't owe anyone an explanation. Well, except Megatron. Maybe. Even then.

His shoulders sag and he looks away again. He doesn't have to answer, but he . . . he does feel the need to explain himself to someone. To be understood. And who better than Knock Out?

"There's nothing in particular going on, Knock Out. I'm just . . . I'm tired. I should have done this long before now. I couldn't back home, but I can here. And..." And Four wasn't here anymore to support. He shook his head. THAT he was not about to admit to Knock Out. "I refuse to live in fear anymore, out of a place of my own choosing. I am choosing to change that. I want no part of a meaningless war anymore. Especially since it doesn't even exist here. These brands mean nothing but . . . but slavery, in a sense, to me anymore, and I want no part of it. I want . . . I want out."

No, he doesn't but saying things out loud helps to shape them, make them more real, or notice the flaws it might have. And exactly, who better than another Con who joined the Autobots to understand what Thundercracker is thinking?

"Decepticon lost their way in your reality too then? I wonder if that their real curse, to forget why the war started. I can't say I blame you."

Thundercracker hesitated, then nodded. "A long time ago. Or . . . or maybe that was always our real direction and I was just too blind and stupid to see it. To want to see it. We were supposed to improve Cybertron, not destroy it. I'm a soldier, not a murderer. I didn't sign up to slaughter innocents . . . and yet . . . that's about all I've done since the war started. At least . . . until coming here."

"We all had high hopes and expectations." Knock Out did not seek combat and avoided confrontations if he could but he did like power and he knew he wasn't a kind mech. As much as he wanted to blame it all on Megatron and his insanity he couldn't always lie to himself.

"This place is certainly a new opportunity for us all, maybe a second chance to make things right. And ey, if we screw up and get murdered at least there's some hope that we will be back in a week." A weak attempt at humor, get.

As intended, the comment drew a grin from the Seeker –very small, weary, but there. "Yeah, there's that, at least." He vented a cycle of air through too-warm internal systems. "Second chance . . . yeah."

His wings flicked. "So . . . will you, doc?"

Smile smiles are still smiles, that's what counts. "I love those." He really, really does. Also third chances, some people needs them as well.

"I'll go get what I need. You wanted those removed, right?"

He hesitates only an instant more before nodding. Quick but...decisive.

"Yes."

"Good. Your frame will look better without them. I never really liked brands either, no matter which kind."

He glances briefly at his arm. Knock Out likes Solus Prime and knows that the mark serves a purpose but he would get rid of it in a heartbeat if he could. The medic leaves only to be back a few minutes later with the tools he needed.

He could use the welder in his fingers to remove the mark but he needed to smooth the finish under it and fix the paintjob so it looked perfect again.

"Take a seat and lower your wings."

Thundercracker spent those few minutes idly wandering around the office a little. He didn't touch anything, just . . . needed to occupy himself. Lest he started thinking again too much and possibly ~~scare~~ talk himself back out of this. He managed to suppress a flinch as Knock Out came back in the room, but the look on his face for just an instant would give him away. Still, he settled as directed without hesitation.

Thundercracker might notice how Barricade's desk as well as some other of his things are still there and untouched, but nonetheless are being kept clean. Knock Out would hardly call himself a sentimental mech but he did have respect for those who he considered his friends and the memories shared.

When the medic came back he did not only bring the tools he needed but also a small blue and orange dragon perched between his big shoulder and neck. It flied in front of Thundercracker once the seeker sat down, as if he was keeping an eye on the newcomer to make sure he didn't try to do anything weird to his master.]

Relax, will you? [Knock Out said as he started to work.] If you change your mind I'll put them back, no questions asked.

Thundercracker just nodded. He wouldn't change his mind. It was just . . . the consequences that he was uneasy about. But ~~when~~ if those ever came, it'd be because the wrong people noticed, and by then, putting them back on would be a moot point.

He gave the robo-dragon a small grin. He knew Knock Out had one, but this was the first he'd seen it in the metal. Careful not to move enough to shift his wings, he raised an arm to point a bit at the dragon. "What's his name again?"

Knock Out is still worried about the consequences of his own actions back in his world. He hopes that Bulkhead an Wheeljack didn't lie to him about accepting him as a teammate and wonders if they would actually help hem out if he needed it.

The doctor looks up for a brief second, a shadow obscuring his optics.] I don't really use his name all that often...[He goes back to look at the task in front of him, avoiding's Thundercracker's optics.] ...it's Breakdown.

[At the view of the arm pointed at him and after hearing his name, the little dragon lets out a small 'Craaw' and flaps his wings.]

[He'd hit a nerve. Not one he'd meant to, but...it's pretty obvious he did anyway. And by the way, he /had/ noticed the meticulously-maintained other desk, yes. He finds himself covertly studying the medic for a moment. Finally, he nods.]

I see.

[He doesn't know who Breakdown is, but he can guess who that /was/ to Knock Out. He puts out his arm, offering it as a perch to the robo-dragon.]

[He did. It's a sore issue but Knock Out only showed that in front of people who won't make fun of him for it. First time he shows it in front of another ex-'decepticon'.]

Do you have a firelizard too?

[And to that arm Breakylizard goes. He makes himself comfortable and wiggles his tail.] Crraaaw.

[Make fun or otherwise use such knowledge against Knock Out. Thundercracker won't do either. Honestly, he wouldn't have even before Haven, but then he's always been "odd" like that.]

[TC's careful to keep his back upright, his wings still for Knock Out to work on them, only moving his arms. He offers the little dragon a small grin as he shifts his other hand to pet at it.]

Yeah. Four actually. I have one named Numbers that I originally got for...well, Four. I don't know if you ever met her...that tiny, mute, animated doll? And the other three were . . . they were a gift. [a soft snort, somewhere between amused and...something else] They're named and loosely modeled after me and my trine. I don't...use their full names all that often either. I call them Screamer, Crackers, and Sky. I'll bring them all by sometime, if you'd like.

[pet pet love on Breaky]

[Exactly. It's a good thing that Thundercracker is trustworthy because Knock Out doesn't get mad, he gets stabby. Odd mechs are the best mechs.

The medic is already done with the right wing, time to work on the otehr insignia.]

Craaaaaaa. [Pettings! The firelizard loves those and he never has enough.]

Yes, I knew four, she was a lovely lady. We got along well. That's nice of her. [There's a chuckle coming from Knock Out.] Sound like a fitting present. Tell me, is your Screamer firelizard always bossing the others? If you can promise me they won't make a mess, then fine, bring them when you feel like.

[That gets a low chuckle.]

Yeah, he's a bossy little fragger, but he's learned to mind me. I can't wholly promise that, but they're generally well-behaved, and they will be dealt with if they cause trouble.

It can't be worse than the grey firelizard I have. It was from the Starscream of my universe, he got it when he was here and left it behind when he disappeared. The poor thing doesn't seem to be alright in the head.

[Meaning, it's the simple dog of the firelizard. Knock Otu hasn't seen a more stupid creature in his life.]

Hmn. Yeah, I remember him. Wouldn't surprise me if he'd abused and damaged the thing.

[And that threatens to start his mind down avenues he REALLY doesn't want to go right now. Knock Out will see/feel his wings /twitch/ at that before TC realizes what he's done.]

Sorry about that. [He glances over his shoulder.] How's it coming?

Me neither, Starscream always had a talent for taking advantage of the weak.[Which is basically why Knock Out keeps the beast around instead of kicking it out and letting it feed for himself. He's not even sure it would survive on its own.]

S'okay. [Knock Out's tempted to ask about the twitch but he decided it's better not to do that now.] Only a few seconds more and...yeah. I'm done now, do you want to keep those for sentimentality's sake? I suggest going to Megatronu's quadrant and throw them into eh hottest lavapit we can find.

[Thundercracker scowls for an instant, about to say that, no, he wants nothing more to do with the slagging things. But that last? Gets a grin on his face.]

That sounds like the best plan I've heard in some time. Care to join me?

Knock Out always have great ideas, didn't you know?]

Let's not waste more time talking then. [He grinned, patted the seeker on the back and then called his firelizard. Soon enough the little blue dragon was perched on his shoulder.] Ready to go?

[Thundercracker had stood by then. He gives the medic a jaunty mock-bow.]

After you.

[Knock Out smiled and left the room, giving order to a drone to watch the clinic while he was gone.

It's been an interesting day and he's someone relieved that he's not the only one who decided to change sides. They'll see how things go from there.]

[If the Seeker is honest, he's quite terrified at what he's done . . . but he's also resolute. He's just glad there's one other person who at least has an idea of where he's coming from…and where he's been.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Moving in Reverse [Narrative/Closed Log]

That was beautifully written, hon <3

^,^ Thanks! Been actually wanting to do something like this for...uh....months. orz

Aww. It was great really!

<3

♥

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