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

[thehardway]

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.

Comments

[thehardway]

"I don't..."

The sentence trails off and dies as he looks at the sizable cube. Gradually, Ultra Magnus slumps back into his chair, exhaling heavily.

"I haven't had highgrade in a very long time."

It's not a statement of refusal, but he certainly is giving the energon a look. Not quite of certainty, that he'll take it or not, but he debates.

A day or two ago, he would have immediately declined the offer. At least he's considering it.

"...Sit. If you'd like."

[warborn]

"Hn."

Most wouldn't consider Magnus touching highgrade at all. For the most part, they'd be right, but...even the strictest soldiers can be affected by war. Or whatever you want to call it.

They're all just steel and servos, though some sparks can take more than others. But even those have times, when, well...

"I brought more'n that,' Max slowly says, taking the seat. He wasn't sure if Ultra Magnus would actually 'accept' it - though he'd been planning on leaving it anyway - but moreso, he wasn't sure if the commander would prefer to be alone. While he's predictable at his best...

This isn't his best.

[thehardway]

It is as First Aid told him. They're synthetic, but they aren't just machines.

"Thoughtful," is all Ultra Magnus has to murmur in regards to knowing that there's more. He still looks at the cube, mentally battling himself over what to do.

Professionally, he should give it back.

Then he thinks, how unlike others, Rodimus had no chance of coming back. He is dead. For good. Ultra Magnus had to shoot him. After how much they-- for a week, and how much emotion he let himself feel even if it was foolish.

And in the end, he had to kill him.

With a heavy sigh, he takes the cube and drinks. Its smoothness and the spark the goes with the fuel matches his memory. And if Fort Max brought more, that.

That's good.

"How much more?"

[warborn]

...apparently, Ultra Magnus can drink when he damn well wants to. Maximus tilts his head, optics blinking once; that wasn't exactly the lowest highgrade he has. Quite the opposite, really.

"I guessed how much it'd take to get a gestalt drunk, then brought more."

Okay, maybe not quite that much.

But close.

(That /was/ supposed to be funny, though, not that Magnus'd appreciate it.)

[thehardway]

Although he has no problem putting it away, it's been awhile since he'd let himself indulge at all like this. Still, as soon as the cube is finished, he sets the empty container onto his desk and sits back in his chair.

"An appropriate amount." Magnus rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'll need it."

It's not a permanent solution, but he needs... something. Talking to Rung has helped a little, and others who have come by.

He's far beyond the breaking point, though he'd never say it out loud.

"You're not having any?"

[warborn]

Good to know he didn't bring too much, at least...eh. He'd have had it himself. Maybe not all at once - he's getting better at that.

He leans back in his chair, shrugging a little.

"Depends on if you're gonna need all of it, or if you're willing to share." Far as he's concerned, you need it a hell of a lot more than he does right now.

[thehardway]

"I'm not sure," he mutters, on the subject of whether or not he's going to need all of it. Maybe. He really isn't sure yet; it's been a long time since he's been drunk last.

So long that he isn't sure if he remembers when.

"It just seems... strange, to drink alone, I suppose. Even I'm aware of that."

[warborn]

On the bright side, Magnus has a wonderful opportunity to make more memories now. With company, because Max is nodding and taking a cube of his own.

"So you won't be alone. Figured I'd stay unless you told me to get out, anyway."

Also figure it's probably a good idea to unsubspace the rest at this point. Like he said, he's brought quite a bit; maybe he was exaggerating a bit, regarding a gestalt, but...

"We toasting anything?"

You know. In case Magnus has something in mind.

[thehardway]

A second cube is in hand and peers into the contents quietly. Something to toast? He really can't think of anything. Nothing positive. He's had hell of a week, and while Ultra Magnus has never been good about considering the silver lining to most matters, it seems harder now than before.

"I don't know. Suggestions?"

Here's to them, the ones left over. That's all he can think of.

Because there's not much more that's brighter than that.

[warborn]

Suggestions, huh? Fort Max shrugs a little. He's only got a little bit of one, but...

"Sometimes, after a battle, we'd- you know. Tell stories. 'Bout the whole thing, and the ones who didn't make it, only-"

He makes a slight face.

"We didn't cry about it. We just...remembered them. You know." He can't bring himself to say those lost ideals like 'valor' or 'courage', but the memories- yeah, he's done plenty of that lately. Just...

"I'unno, Magnus. We can do it without, if you want."

[thehardway]

"I'm not crying." It's not even spoken in anger. He's... exhausted. Mournful, maybe. Rung told him it was normal. Why shouldn't it be? But Ultra Magnus has never really dealt with this sort of thing normally.

But he considers the suggestion.

"I didn't know Tailgate enough to discuss his achievements. I know that he had more skills than one would predict at first glance. Hound was quite possibly more overlooked in his skills and reliability than most, but he never complained. Not a bit. Rodimus..."

There, he stops. He looks down at his own plating, how melted and off that it is. Worn and raw and aching.

"I can't." He shakes his head. "So. To those who died, and those left with the consequences."

There, Magnus focuses on his second cube, eager to finish it.

[warborn]

"That's not..." He makes a face. He didn't mean to accuse Magnus of doing that, just meant to suggest- there was other things, right? However way you did it was fine. "'Sfine."

Even if he was, it's fine. (Hell of an image, though. Quite frankly, Maximus is just as glad Magnus isn't.)

Fort Max watches the commander for a long moment...then nods. "Sounds good to me," he agrees, shifting his cube- and then taking a mouthful of it.

Burns on the way down - just like he's gotten used to.

[thehardway]

He doesn't take it personally, not really. Maybe it's just weariness, maybe it's just knowing that he'd done plenty make things the way they are now. Or at least that's what it feels like right now.

When the cube is done, he peers down at the empty glass, swallowing the leftover burn lingering in his mouth. The taste wakes up some older memories. Celebrations he silently attended. When he was, some might daresay, a slight bit more lenient.

Now he can't be bothered with things like rules.

Is it going to be like this everyday from now on, he briefly wonders. The misery, remembering what had transpired. Letting it haunt him. He's never let anything linger that closely before. Things are different now.

Did he make the mistake of getting too close? Maybe.

Who the hell knows.

Silently, he reaches for cube three and looks at it first, to dwell.

[warborn]

Frankly, for Magnus's sake, he hopes not. For all their sakes, he hopes not. Magnus is...somewhat of a backbone to them, a pillar of strength, and if they got to see him like this...

But Maximus knows damn well that strength can only take you so far.

Finishing his cube, he pauses, noticing Magnus's hesitation. "All right?" he asks, lowering the empty vessel.