re_alignment_logs | the world outside is dark. [NARRATIVE/OPEN?]

WHO: Ultra Magnus. Open if anyone wants to visit him for some reason.
WHERE: His office at the enforcer's HQ.
WHEN Sometime after the Glyphless are all dealt with.
WHAT: There's a lot on Ultra Magnus's mind, but the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord never rests. There's always a task to see to.
WARNINGS: Various mentions of character death in various ways.

There's still a tired ache in his joints.

Everything with Ultra Magus concerning things like attention to emotions, how to phrase certain things, how to consider a perspective and maintain a sense of being professional no matter how he might actually want a certain matter -- it boils down to the aspect that he needs to behave a certain way because that is what is needed of him. Ultra Magnus must remain a reliable constant.

That doesn't change what he is internally. Not as he silently handed off Drift's body to Wing. Not as he carefully cradled Tailgate's corpse in one arm despite how energon dribbled down to his wrist because of the shot in the head. Finding Swerve, tending to him, trying to not think of how Tailgate sobbed and apologized. Optimus asking him to keep watch over Smokescreen. Collecting Hot Rod's body from Solus Prime.

Or when he finally stood in Alpha Trion's quadrant, looking at Blurr's hard work, and began to arrange graves.

Alone, he allows himself a long time to just. Hold Rodimus in his arms for one last time. He'd tried to repair some of the external damage, because he couldn't bear to see what he had to do. It doesn't change the fact that the colors are faded now. He knows what he had with Rodimus wasn't meant to be very deep, but it didn't change how fond he was of the young, impulsive, potential-filled captain. For Rodimus, it was purely a good physical interaction. For Ultra Magnus, it got more complicated, despite his own attempts to stifle those thoughts and feelings.

In his silence, he calmly places Rodimus away with the others.

He should, logically, see to his own repairs eventually. He knows that. He doesn't tend to put that sort of thing off until the last minute, but this is different and complicated and he can excuse it. Repairs? No, he'll point the medics in other directions. There are others injured besides him, after all.

No, he wants to feel this for a little longer.

It's silent now that they're dead. Magnus slowly limps his way into the headquarters so carefully crafted by McCrane and his friends, finding himself in his office. A familiar, clean comfort zone where nothing changes.

So he sits, pulls up a datapad, and considers.

Right. He should maybe write a report. That would be suitable. Professional.

The enforcer gets to work, as always.

There is one constant that should never change. Ultra Magnus will be that constant.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wheeljack knows that look. In fact, he's pulled off that look sometimes. So...he'll just take a seat, although the questions aren't going to stop anytime soon.

"Gotcha. And patch yourself up first beforehand. If you won't I will.

And all I got is hull sealant. So you're better off doin' it."

Once Wheeljack shows signs of cooperating, Ultra Magnus nods once and goes to fetch his repair kit from his desk. It's not much and he's not a medic, but he knows enough to keep a mech together.

"I'll be fine. But your offer is appreciated. Now. Hold still."

And the enforcer gets to work.

"After this, do you still have plans to build your ship?"

Wheeljack didn't really like that answer, and his body shifted to dodge that first pass in an attempt to let Magnus know. What do you mean you're fine. He knows what bad injuries are.

"Yeah, yeah..."

After that first dodge, he holds still, wincing slightly. Direct hits from a cannon are nothing to shrug at.

"'Course I do. Why wouldn't I--HEY EASY, Sparky! I need that arm."

"Wheeljack, hold still," he orders him sternly at the first dodge.

No, he's totally fine, okay.

"I hadn't been concerned with the idea of the ship immediately. It wasn't a bad idea, but I didn't think deeply on it right off. ...I think it should become your focus."

If, perhaps, they could leave, then this wouldn't have happened. He doesn't know, but it's a good idea to work with.

Not that he's going to state it again for Wheeljack.

"Relax. I won't give it too much attention."

That grabs his attention. In more ways than one. First off, why the sudden interest? Ultra Magnus said it'd be interested before...but encouraging all his effort into it? Why?

"Main focus? Not that I don't agree with ya, Magnus, but...any special reason? Solus says I can't get too close to the Lambda, or it'll go down. So a way home ain't happenin'."

Nevertheless, he rolls his shoulder.

"Won't let ya down."

"Not for now. But if the Lambda can be dealt with, we'll need a method of getting out of here. Or perhaps we can find a way to build a resistance to the Lambda. We can't ignore possibilities."

Ultra Magnus exhales heavily, going silent as he works on the basic repairs. Eventually, he lowers his helm faintly. "We don't belong here. Plain and simple."

The repairs he performs are basic. Field patches at best. He's not a medic, never forged for it. But he's meticulous, at least, focusing on the finer details when he can.

"One moment." He steps away to go back to his desk before he returns with some rags. "Hold still again."

"Resistance, huh. Sounds like something Ratchet and Percy would be more into. Maybe you should give them a ring on it. But I'll take care of the ship, at least. It can only hold two, but it can take a punch."

At that next part, his head dips down. Yeah, he kind of got the feeling that despite this being Cybertron, it just wasn't...cut out for them. Not in the least. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

The repairs would do. Wheeljack wasn't one to complain about the quality of a repair. Basically, as long as he could walk, he was good.

And then Magnus comes back with a rag.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold it right there. What's that for."

"It's a start. I'll inquire Perceptor about his interest in the matter. I don't know Ratchet's scientific capabilities outside of mech repair jobs. We'll see."

The enforcer raises an optic ridge at the question, then gestures to all of Wheeljack. "You're filthy and your swords are dripping with energon."

It has been said that Ultra Magnus is an OCD Control Freak.

It's often correct.

...

He holds his hands up in defense.

"Whoa, ya sure know how to compliment a bot. I'm fine, Magnus. Ya don't need ta-"

He had a feeling that this wasn't going to convince him.

"Quiet and let me work."

A hand goes to Wheeljack's shoulder, the other holding up the rag. "...Please."

He isn't going to explain it. No point. So, he just gently dabs up some of the energon.

He fidgets, but then again, could you expect anything less from him? That doesn't mean he's going to uncooperative, more or less letting Magnus clean him up.

"...okay."

His legs swing idly, looking up at the ceiling.

"Didn't peg you as the nurse-bot type."

The fidgeting is anticipated, true to Wheeljack's behavior in general. As Ultra Magnus tends to the energon wiping, he pauses at the remark.

"I'm not, really. I just."

This is going to get awkward quickly. Uncomfortable. Complicated. Unacceptable.

"You're getting energon in my office."

No, he. Doesn't really care about that right now, but it's not as if Wheeljack needs to know that.

Wheeljack looks up at him at that, head tilted slightly. His demeanor seemed...entirely different. Although he's not sure if he should bring the change up. Chances are Magnus would just deny it anyway.

"'Pologies. Won't happen again."

That head dips down again, looking at the floor as Ultra Magnus worked.

"Mm."

Silently, he focuses on this. A menial task, able to get his mind away from things for a moment. It's not meant to be doting or nagging, but it's something for him to do.

He pauses, pulling his hands away when he's done. Ultra Magnus glances aside.

"There. You're finished."

It kind of felt nice. To be...well, given attention too. He knows it's probably not the smartest idea, but Magnus seemed dead set on it. When the bot finishes, he hops to his feet, rolling his shoulders.

"Thanks. I'll...I'll uh...keep in touch. I suggest ya start fixin' yourself up, before I do it for you."

Threatening finger point.

"I mean it."

The enforcer holds up his hands in a faint defensive motion.

"I will. I know it's not wise to put it off for too long. ... Take care of yourself, Wheeljack."

That finger slowly lowers itself as he starts to head out, picking up his swords and slinging them over his shoulder.

"You too...sir."

And with that, he's gone.

the world outside is dark. [NARRATIVE/OPEN?]

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