OPEN | heck

[wreckers]

Who: Verity and YOU
Where: The crater
When: shruggles
What: Verity sees Cybertron in person for the first time and is not impressed.
Warnings: TBD??

[ One last bullet in the chamber. Had she been any more poetic Verity would call herself the gun in this analogy, now locked and loaded. Ironfist perhaps never intended nor even anticipated for Verity to ever touchdown on Cybertron. Even after exhausting the precious little time left before his number came up to upgrade her suit and entrust her with the backup Aequitas neither of them particularly wanted this one last shot to fire. Neither did she, but when you wake up on a dead planet next to a smoking crater you don't question why. You're just glad you kept the suit. ]

What a shithole.

[ And this was coming from someone who used to hitchhike and pickpocket her way through Phoenix, Arizona. Maybe living in deep space for nearly over two years with a pack of natives given to wax poetic about how great Cybertron used to be she expected something less...desolate. Ghost town didn't even do it justice. Part of her almost felt the same pang of longing she saw behind the eyes of the Wreckers whenever they talked about this place as she kicked a rock into the yawning mouth of the crater.

This place must have really been something. ]

Comments

[wreckers]

I watched him burn.

[ Verity clarified, flatly. ]

[phase6kindofbot]

[The news sends a flicker of some strange emotion over Sixshot's lupine face. Nothing that lasts, however.]

He was going to burn sooner or later, really.

[wreckers]

Change back.

[ Verity barked with impunity through clenched teeth, pointing at Sixshot then at the ground as if that would impulse him to transform back to a common Cybertronian form faster. ]

Changed back and say those words exactly while looking me in the eye as if the Phase Sixers are just a fucking footnote in your four million year snit fit.

[phase6kindofbot]

[Change back?

He knows what she means because for all that the Decepticons have done to take beast mechs under their wings, animal modes were still not the 'true' person. Figures a human would think his bipedal mode his default anyways.

There was the option of being obtuse about it. It was a strange thing to ask of a mech with six forms.

Instead, Sixshot decides to humor her. He was nothing if not obedient, after all. The sound of armor plates unfolding and rearranging echoes out over the crater as he rears up, shrinking as mass is folded away into a pocket space.

He ends up kneeling neatly before her, hands folded on his lap.]

I meant that he would have ended up destroying himself if no one else had done it. But I can see why you'd think I was diminishing our role in the war.

[wreckers]

Fuck you, alright? [ Verity spat - taking full advantage of achieving the closest to eye level she could with his lot. ]

'Diminishing our role' - I've seen the worst of the worst when I was a Wrecker and the worst was when a Phaser got creative.

[ Without fear or hesitance she jabbed her middle finger in Sixshot's face then her index finger prodding his chest in accusation. She was so done. Since Garrus-9 a fire was burning low to reignite with the right trigger. ]

I get it, alright? The irony of it all is that you insulate yourselves, and product of Functionist bullshit, from the depth of what it is to wipe out an entire world because it was how you stratified yourselves until it stopped feeling wrong. But we get - organics get that. No longer being wanted by their creators.

All while you have the gall to think self-destruction in an inevitability even for the likes of him. Everything ends. MAybe he just got lucky enough to call the shit hand he dealt himself.

[phase6kindofbot]

The Phase Sixers were the ones who have saved thousands of Decepticon soldiers from lonely deaths on alien worlds. We were the ones who would burn the rot off of planets and leave a clean slate for new life. We were the final line of defense against the Galactic Council and the Black Block Consortia in their efforts to wipe away all traces of Cybertronians from the universe- and the Autobots who would would willingly choose to put that future in their grasps.

[But that wasn’t how Megatron had used them, had he? He’d pulled Sixshot from his duties to salve his wounded ego on Earth. A toy to be used as he pleased instead of a weapon and servant of the Empire.]

It was so peculiar that Megatron would have chosen Overlord, out of all his loyal and powerful soldiers, to become Phase Sixer. This pathetic, obsessive and selfish little mech who had brought so many mechs under his command to meaningless, avoidable death. It should’ve have opened my eyes.

[The meaninglessness of all the destruction he’d sowed, the fear and isolation from his comrades, the truth that the Reapers had tried to bestow upon him.]

I’ve known Overlord long enough to have seen that he was always on the verge of collapsing. That he’s immolated himself brings me joy, inevitable or otherwise, and I can find my own meaningless ending with some measure of peace.