re_alignment_logs | happiness is just a word to me. [CLOSED]

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happiness is just a word to me. [CLOSED]

WHO: Gunmax | open to Blurr, McCrane, Drill Boy, Wing, and Kagerou.
WHERE: From the Badlands to the Haven.
WHEN Sometime after Gunmax and everyone else attempt to find Deckerd.
WHAT: The group return from their fruitless search. Gunmax quietly loathes the human heart.
WARNINGS: A CASE OF THE FEELS.

The whispering had been obnoxious to deal with. The strange, closing sense, something dark lingering out there. How empty it all was, barren, stripped of anything... good or existing. The Calling is there, as Wing said, and he hates to think that Deckerd fell to this.

But Prima had said it was true, that Deckerd had been claimed by it. And he knows not to particularly doubt Prima, who reminds him quietly of everything he respects about Deckerd and McCrane. That certain calmness, a balance of kindness but professionalism. There wasn't any good reason to test Prima's boundaries.

So in the end, it'd been pointless to try to find Deckerd, but he had to anyway.

Gunmax, while riding on his motorcycle, thinks of Kirisaki briefly. The friendship he'd formed, the trust he placed in him, and how that'd been tarnished. He'd been determined to work alone, but Yuuta proved himself, the selflessness of the boy touching him. Deckerd equally proved himself when he didn't have to, trusting Gunmax before the feelings were returned.

Deckerd promised to not leave him, if it was in his control.

He'll have to take that at face value, no matter how hard it hurts him. How much he feels like lashing out and just living alone, because maybe. Maybe it'd be better that way.

Instead, he rides in silence, heading as far away from the Badlands as he can.

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Now, he understands the meaning of all those words -- just how bad it was out there. He had experienced it, and now had no desire to return. There had been, briefly, moments where he'd wondered how someone who'd seemed so decent, who'd seemed to genuinely care what happened to those around him, could possibly be drawn to a place like this. But he'd kept that to himself. There was no point in questioning it.

Not now. Not when it was apparent everything they'd done had been for nothing.

And in the end, he was surprised, that force hadn't been necessary when it came time to abandon the search. He'd thought he'd be forced to drag Gunmax out. And he'd been prepared to -- a promise was important, after all. He wasn't sure if he could call it admiration, there was still too much of something else standing in the way to call it that, but the grudging beginnings of a changed opinion were starting to form.

If it had been him... if he'd been the one searching for someone that important... could he have left of his own will?

He stays silent, most of the way. What can he even say to this? What does one say? He keeps pace above, only the hiss and thrum of his thrusters making any noise to mark his passing. Part of him wants to say something, but the rest of him urges silence. Finally, he drops down, low enough to be heard.

"I can go back, later, if..."

"Don't."

The biker lowers his head faintly. He can't bear to think about that, sending someone else to go find him. They've risked enough, and Deckerd wouldn't approve of pushing the others.

No. If he knows the Brave Detective, he'd want them to stick together.

"We did what we had to. We're done with it."

It comes out just as coldly as he intends. No, they won't go back.

They're on their own.

There's a moment in which he bristles -- a very strong urge to snap something in return. That he'll go back if he pleases, that Gunmax has no business telling him what to do. Though, just as quickly, he realizes how little good a fight would do right now.

"As you say."

He doesn't pull back though, instead keeping pace at the lower altitude. He probably shouldn't be flying so low, but doesn't move.

"... Can I ask you what it is we do now?" A pause, before he adds: "Or is this... a time to stay silent?"

He can never tell with this one.

"How am I supposed to know that?"

Deckerd... would know. Someone else. Someone not Gunmax. He doesn't lead, he's more individualized; now more than ever, he wants to function on his own.

There's an angry, tired sigh from him. "We just go back. We work twice as hard. And we don't forget, most of all. Think you can handle that?"

"Because... you have more experience than I do. I thought..."

He trails off. Maybe it's better to leave it at that. Better not to press. He feels as if he owes the other robot something -- something he doesn't know how to give.

"You're asking me if I can keep something in my memories." He shakes his head, though his tone is mild, dry as ever. "I will never forget. I refuse to."

Silence, as he has to climb a little in altitude, avoiding terrain.

"Why don't they do something about this place?"

"All I know is that we need to keep going. No matter who's here... and who isn't. And who's lost for good."

It hurts him, deep into his damned heart. Knowing that Deckerd is lost for good. No amount of hoping or reaching or searching will change that. And if he sees Deckerd again, it may not be him.

He hates feeling this. This loss. He's sick of it.

"Maybe they can't. Or maybe they don't care. I don't know, ask Prima. He's the only one that ... doesn't bother me."

"Starscream came back. You don't know it's for good."

No, he doesn't really know why he's fighting this. He's not even truly part of this group. He shouldn't feel this way. Shouldn't feel obligated to say anything -- since it likely won't be helpful anyway.

... He got to you, didn't he. If you lost someone out here...

"I will. If he answers..."

"I know that he was found when Wing and the others went out into the Badlands. We actively looked for Deckerd. That's different."

He wants to hope. Really, Gunmax does, but he's not going to waste time on something pointless.

Not that he wants to give up on Deckerd, but Prima sounded so sure...

"He should. He's the only one that gives a damn, I feel like."

There's not much he can argue in the face of that. Much as he doesn't want to admit Gunmax has a point... Gunmax has a point.

"Then we go through him. This... can't happen to another."

Maybe it's too little, too late. But -- honestly he feels as if he should be filling this silence, strangely enough. It feels like there's a lot unsaid, and something hanging on an edge.

Maybe he shouldn't be the one who came.

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth."

"We won't."

If one of the others were pulled. McCrane, Yuuta, Drill Boy, even Kagerou-- Gunmax couldn't forgive himself. Frankly, he isn't sure how he'd function, losing another person to that place. Sure, Breakdown came back, but with no memories. Deckerd...

Maybe they'd get lucky, but Gunmax isn't betting on it.

When Kagerou apologizes, Gunmax slows down his bike to a stop, staring at him. Then he practically snarls, "Sorry? What the hell do you care, about how I feel? Since when?"

He ends up passing the motorcycle when it slows and stops. He has to double-back, landing a few feet away. His head tilts, looking, for a second, embarrassed, before he smooths his expression out of habit.

He was right -- he shouldn't have come. Or opened his mouth.

"I didn't know what else to say."

It's the truth, at least.

"Do you really want me to answer the rest? Out here? Right now?"

"There's nothing else you could possibly say to make me feel worse right now, Kagerou."

The biker steps off of his motorcycle, approaching the ninja. A finger points at his chest, and he practically snarls out the next set of words,

"So just get it over with. This isn't for me. We don't like each other, remember? And if you're doing this for Deckerd, don't give me that crap."

"That wasn't..."

Wasn't what he'd intended. He trails off, watching Gunmax approach. He doesn't move, doesn't step back when he's pointed and snarled at. There are a lot of things he could say to that... if they hate each other, why assist each other? What is he expected to say right now?

"I'd go out there anyway, wouldn't I? For someone else. That's how important... this is..." He shrugs a shoulder.

It's not the same thing -- he can realize that. Yet, he feels the understanding is there, in its barest form.

"That was what you told me. And... that was why I did this."

"...Because you'd go out there for Shadowmaru. It always comes back to that, doesn't it?"

Why wouldn't it. Really, Gunmax shouldn't be surprised. Kagerou's downright obsession with Shadowmaru in his perspective is really starting to get borderline creepy. But it's true. Kagerou would do anything for him, wouldn't he?

The difference is that Gunmax would do just about anything for his teammates. Deckerd was jut the one he--

Yeah.

He stiffens at that, shoulders drawing up. A defensive posture.

"That... yes." There's exasperation in his voice, and he can't keep it down. "You said that yourself. Before we left."

He feels defensive, suddenly. It wasn't his choice of words. He hadn't even brought up the other ninja in that conversation -- so why is Shadowmaru suddenly being thrown back in his face?

"You asked me a question. I'm trying to answer it."

In the only way he knows how.

"Why is it wrong for him to be a part of the answer?"

He'd waited, tense, knowing what was going to come when Gunmax finally was in range to communicate again. There had been no good news, thus far. There would be no good news tomorrow.

It didn't stop him from hoping. It didn't stop him from working, either, tracking down clues and talking with others in Prima's temple, eventually sending Gunmax a text about which direction an acolyte had seen their fellow officer departing in.

That hadn't helped.

He simply couldn't believe that Deckerd could be gone, or that one of them could slip away almost unnoticed like that. He couldn't believe that this world could hold such a terrible place, or that it could claim them, the Brave Police, who had faced all obstacles together. He couldn't believe, and yet he had to.

Deckerd would not be going home with them.

In the distance he could see Gunmax, his bike kicking up clouds of dust as he drove across the planes, the rest of the group with him. He'd come up to watch from Prima's temple each day, breaking away from work on the recreation center, hoping...

But he'd be down at the entrance before they arrived, to meet them, still.

It's hard to want to let himself care about anything right now. It's easier to consider in terms of what Deckerd would do rather than how he feels, how he actually rawly feels right this moment.

When Gunmax finally makes his return towards Prima's temple, Gunmax doesn't even put his motorcycle into park. He turns off the engine, lets it fall to its side, and he marches up the steps. Him, not caring about the state of Gunbike -- that's not typical behavior.

He only pauses to look at McCrane and mutter, "Yeah, it's just us."

In case it wasn't obvious.

That's it, then.

Even having expected those words, they're difficult to take. It hadn't been so long since the last time Deckerd had effectively 'died' to them, and it wasn't any easier then. This time, there's no Duke trying to nudge his way into command. This time, losing one of them means losing one of them, with no hope of salvaging even the AI unit.

He wishes to go look. He wishes to see this for himself, but there's nothing to see, so he only nods, and reaches out a hand to catch the motorcycle detective's arm. "We'll be more careful from now on."

It wouldn't happen again. Not now. Not since they'd learned it was possible.

It's worse in some ways. Last time, both he and Shadowmaru tried to protect Deckerd. Sure, they failed, but they fought with everything. All of them did. They threw everything they had to protect and bring Deckerd back to himself.

This? They just... lost him. They lost him what feels like effortlessly. What is he supposed to tell Yuuta?

He almost jerks his arm away from McCrane, but a stupid little selfish fit like that won't help anything. So, he remains still and reluctantly looks up at McCrane, all too glad to have his shades on.

"Yep. Guess so."

It is worse, having nothing that they can do.

It is much, much worse.

"It would be best to establish a system. Not just for us, but for everyone." Not wanting to dwell on this occurrence, he considers what needs to be done to prevent it, instead. "We'll need to pair off, to have someone to check in with each day. If anyone fails to check in, they can report it and we can investigate. We'll keep records." Of everyone who came, and of everyone who went. It's easy enough to plan.

It's harder to plan, knowing that Deckerd won't be a part of it. Deckerd had liked things neat and orderly and recorded.

His fingers tighten on Gunmax's arm, the only indication of the support he needs right now. He doesn't look at him, not yet. Not exactly. His eyes focus, instead, on Gunbike.

Left out.

"Do you need some time alone?" He asks, presuming the default for 'Gunmax in stress mode.' It would be hard for McCrane to be alone right now, but if it was what Gunmax needed...

Well.

It just wasn't usual for him to leave the bike like that.

"Sure. A system," he responds, voice stiff and distant. No, he gets it, what McCrane is saying, but he can't process it completely. It's important, but right now, all he can conclude is what's missing. Who is missing.

The tightened grip earns a glance.

The automatic response to the question is a quick, "Yes."

Then he hesitates and makes a strained sound, his helm lowering. "...No."

How the hell did he become so dependent?

The hand on Gunmax's arm is gripped by the biker's free hand, as if to suddenly needing to assure himself that McCrane is there.

McCrane isn't expecting to hear a no.

He's not expecting this, either, and the sudden touch back on top of his hand shocks him out of the daze he hadn't even known he was in. His eyes move from the bike, finally, to Gunmax, catching the way his visor is shadowed, catching the almost imperceptible sound, catching that slight trembling of Gunmax's hand--

No.

No, that's his own hand that's trembling.

He doesn't know what to do about that. He doesn't know what to do about any of this, but he can't admit that out loud right now. Saying it...saying it would make it real.

But he has to say something.

"Me either," he manages a whisper, and shifts his grip to take the hand lying on top of his, holding it tightly, willing himself to be steadier, to not shake. There won't be Deckerd. They can lose anyone else, at any point. Yuuta is going to be sad.

And he, right now, has to find some way to cope with these barely recognizable emotions.

They all will.

"I'll help you bring gunbike inside," he offers, softly, feeling only slightly more resolute. He doesn't let go of Gunmax's hand yet.

He doesn't want to.

The tremble is felt and-- hell, he can't afford to selfishly feel upset, because it's not just him who hurts. It's all of them. Deckerd is precious to all of them, he knows that, and they have to try three times as hard for Yuuta.

"Damn it, McCrane."

He yanks a bit at the Combat Detective sharply by the hand to pull him in, throwing one arm around his shoulders for a tight embrace.

This kind of affection isn't typical of him, but he realizes quietly that it's sort of important to have right now. Because Gunmax is usually busy being a jerk to admit he might need it and McCrane's preoccupied with being strong and clear-minded and looking out for everyone else.

"Gunmax..." He says, but it isn't the beginning of a question or an admonition or a denial. It is just a name, one that is familiar and important, right now. Even if he's surprised at the contact it doesn't stop him from wanting it, and it doesn't stop him from appreciating it, and it doesn't stop him from reaching out to reciprocate awkwardly.

Humans hugged.

Yuuta had hugged feet, when overridden by his emotions.

McCrane is more reserved than that, less prone to giving into whims and more stict at guarding his actions and reactions, always careful lest his desires get the better of him once again.

But desires aren't all bad. His desire for Deckerd to return is strong. His desire for Gunmax to stay, right now, is also strong. He can acknowledge that, and he can chose to give in because he needs it, and because someone else needs it, too.

"The Decker room is close to completion. We should stay there, tonight," he murmurs, looking at his grey hand against Gunmax's dark green, feeling a little less hollow for the embrace. A little more human. "All of us."

Although boundaries mean a little less to Gunmax, he has his own boundaries, few as they are. He guards himself strongly, wary of others to some degree. McCrane, though... right now, he can't think of anyone else he can rely on. Right now, it has to be him.

So he holds tight for a moment, sighing angrily. Tired and frustrated.

"Heh. Like normal?" Gunmax murmurs quietly. "All right. All of us."

The idea, suddenly, that he might end up losing McCrane or Drill Boy frightens him. It's a strange surge of emotion sparking over his Super A.I. and Gunmax flinches a little. It's been several close calls for them, but after losing Deckerd, it's a very real possibility now.

No. He can't let that happen.

Drill Boy was quiet and contemplative. He had been hoping most that they would find Deckerd, maybe a bit worse for wear, and get him back home. It was almost worse that there was nothing for them to find, as if that area of the planet had swallowed him up, and any trail they could have followed.

For once he conserved his energy, not kicking around his soccer ball, or running a head, or even chatting idly. They had failed to find Deckerd and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Having Drill Boy be quiet is worrisome. Maybe any other day, Gunmax may have teased what a miracle it was, what's the matter Drill Boy cat got your tongue, and what not but no, he gets it, he knows.

The search was worse than when Deckerd seemed to die before their eyes, then made his miraculous return in a new body after such a hard fight. Duke isn't here, though, and they couldn't even find Deckerd.

He wants to ride off somewhere, just to deal with what he's feeling on his own, but that's not going to happen. Not right now.

"Drill Boy," he calls out, slowing down his motorcycle.

He looked up and picked up his pace just a bit so that he could catch up to Gunmax a little sooner. He had been trying not to show just how upsetting this was to him, considering it had to be at least as upsetting for Gunmax if not more, even if the motorcycle detective wasn't one to show it much.

"Yeah?" He asked in return as he got into a comfortable speaking distance, his own voice sounding loud to him, the quiet from before feeling broken.

"You..."

How does he approach this? Maybe he should just wait until they reach McCrane and then the Combat Detective can be reasonable and of sound mind like always. But Gunmax debates a bit more before sighing.

"You wanna. Pause for right now? Get our bearings."

"Um... yeah, sure, I guess."

It's not what he really wants, but what he really wants isn't going to happen, and him being a child about it and whining at Gunmax, who was already dealing with everything else about this, wasn't fair. His first big lesson after coming online for the first time had been learning to respect others feelings, and he needed to do that here.

"Gunmax do you... want to talk?" Gunmax is important to him, has been for a long time. Not just because he is one of the only other Brave Police here, but also because he felt comfortable and protective in his own way. Drill Boy didn't want his friend... his family, to hurt, not that he could undo what had happened but maybe he could help, somehow.

The entire way there he'd patrolled the skies, using the advantage his fast and maneuverable altmode to strafe a broad search pattern around the group, keeping watch for hostiles and anything that might resemble the lost Brave Police detective.

During the return trip however, he hugged the group, matching the ground group's pace from above, tucked in close to Kagerou.

On one hand he'd known it was likely fruitless. But on the other, the one he entertained more, he'd hoped they'd find him. It'd happened with Starscream. Why not Deckerd?

He still doesn't understand. Maybe Deckerd had been more troubled than any of them had realized. In the early days he'd seem at a loss as to what to do with himself. Wing thought the addition of the police force would help. But perhaps not?

Wing realized he'd never know. Never understand why.

It was a frightening concept. And though he'd had a secondary motive for taking this trip: the literal tempting of fate to see if any bit lingered of his dark side--for surely he'd succumb to the calling if so--the realization that they truly didn't understand the pattern of who was seized by the calling was a startling one.

Or worse, that there was no pattern at all.

Which meant anyone could be taken at any time. He shuddered at the thought. It was worse than war...there was no enemy to fight. Worse than disease...no cure to cultivate.

It makes him tuck even closer to rest of the group, as if symbolic of valuing friendships while one still could.

"Do you want to do something...to remember him?"

"Sure," Gunmax mutters bitterly, "maybe I can handcuff myself to someone. Some good memories right there."

That wouldn't make any sense to Wing, but to him, that's where it mainly started for his friendship with the Brave Detective.

With Wing, at least, he gets that he was also Deckerd's friend. But Gunmax ... wants to lash out at something or someone irrationally, because he's tired and he's hurt and he feels abandoned in the worst possible way and he hatefully does not want to ever compare Deckerd to Kirisaki.

"I don't want to think about or feel anything," Gunmax tells him honestly. "I like having a heart, but it's being kind of a pain in the ass right now."

It's true that Wing doesn't get the reference, but he assume it has some hidden meaning and takes it for what it's worth.

Gunmax was a complicated mech, one Wing was only just starting to understand. But like he was with Drift before, Wing is patient, used to mechs needing to lash out and willing to listen.

"Sometimes it seems like being numb would be easier." It probably goes without saying. But the message is clear, that at least Wing understands what it means to lose someone.

"Yeah. Yeah, it does. I'm..."

The biker folds his arms, taking a moment to pause and try to hide the tremor in his own body. Nothing, he wants to feel nothing. He hates this. The strange grinding sensation in his chassis. It's horrible.

"I'm done. I'm sick of ... of this."

It's not exactly like the way Kirisaki turned his back on him. There's a lot of differences. Deckerd's nothing like his human ex-partner, thankfully, and Deckerd didn't leave of his own free will.

And. There are other more emotional matters that he can't deal with right now. Or ever, if he has his way.

"Some robot I am, huh? Getting all worked up like this."

"But it never works that way. If we stop feeling, we stop being who we are."

It's something Wing wishes he could heal, the way medics repaired bodies. It's never that easy thoguh, so Wing will offer what comfort he can.

"Done?" It's more than a query for elaboration, it's an opening, and offering, a willing ear should Gunmax need it. "I feel like there should be more we can foot prevent these things..."

Wing can't exactly relate to the idea of being a 'robot' without emotion, but in this situation he can understand why one might think it preferable. Even if he, himself never would. "You may be a terrible robot but you're a great Gunmax. And getting worked up over something like this just shows how much you honor Deckerd's place in your life. It's fitting, even if it's painful."

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happiness is just a word to me. [CLOSED]

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/throws self back into this!