raisedbymoogles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbymoogles) wrote2021-08-12 01:02 am
raisedbymoogles) wrote2021-08-12 01:02 am
Entry tags:
More Magical Girl S3.
I guess this 'verse is sticking around a while.
“Perceptor… do you remember Optimus Prime’s last words?”
Ultra Magnus was not the type of mech who paced. He did not fidget, did not run his engine, or any other of the many nervous tics Autobots displayed when agitated - but he was pacing now, measuring the length of the small common room over and over, seeming heedless of Perceptor’s bewildered gaze.
“I will never forget them,” Perceptor answered at last, not unwilling but even now the recollection hurt. “’One day an Autobot shall rise from our ranks, and use the power of the Matrix…’”
“…to light our darkest hour,” Magnus finished. “I’ll never forget them either.”
“Why do you ask?” Perceptor wanted to know. “Was it just to confirm your memory’s accuracy?”
Magnus paused in his pacing to lean against the chair opposite Perceptor. He still seemed too keyed up to want to sit down, which was just as well, because the chair he leaned on was not rated for his weight class. “Something like that,” he admitted.
Despite himself, Perceptor was growing concerned. Ultra Magnus did not display uncertainty like this, either. “…is there anything I can do to help?” he offered.
“Oh, believe me, if you can tell me where the Matrix is now, or produce that ghost Prime…” At Perceptor’s befuddled blink, Magnus withdrew again, body language becoming much more closed-in. “I apologize,” he said. “That was a bit uncalled-for.”
“It’s quite all right, Commander,” Perceptor was quick to assure him. “Believe me, I have wondered the same thing.”
As had most of the Autobots, he suspected. A new Prime, shining with the wisdom of the ages, speaking with a hundred voices. He appeared when all seemed lost, unleashed the power of Primus on the vast and ancient being that threatened their very world, and then disappeared as suddenly as he’d appeared. Perceptor was almost sorry he’d missed the spectacle.
Ultra Magnus, by contrast, looked like he’d much rather archive the whole business in memory storage. “I just… I suppose I want to believe that I haven’t lost the Matrix. That I haven’t failed Optimus Prime.”
Old friend, it is to you… Perceptor shook his head. “I know it’s easier said than done, but please try not to blame yourself for what happened. You did everything you could.” Magnus’s gaze slid away from him and Perceptor knew he was right, it was easier said than done. “…Prime himself would say the same,” Perceptor added in his own defense.
Magnus visibly stifled a laugh. “That he would. And the way he said it I would almost believe it.” He surrendered to the inevitable, then, finding a chair that would take his frame and sinking down into it. “But the fact remains that the Matrix is - out of our hands. Either it’s with a mech who may not exist, or it was destroyed, or flung into space.”
“Perhaps it considers its ultimate purpose served?” Perceptor wondered. “Not that I’ve ever come across any records of the Matrix being sapient enough to make that determination, but you have to admit, it did light our darkest hour.”
“That it did,” Magnus agreed. “But if that were the case, then the other half of Prime’s prophecy, an Autobot from our ranks…”
“…then the question becomes, who is this Autobot, why do they not reveal themselves, and is the Matrix still in their possession?” Perceptor realized. “…oh dear. That’s three questions.”
“Three among many,” Magnus muttered.
Perceptor had clearly not cheered Magnus up in the slightest. He fidgeted a bit - and he was the type of mech to fidget - before venturing, “Had Optimus Prime ever made any other prophecies? Forgive me, I only knew him for a short while.”
Magnus’s optics grew dim, faraway. “…none, so far as I know,” he answered quietly. “He’d always said he’d been spared that particular gift.”
“Then… this is rather unkind of me to say. But… if this was his first prophecy, perhaps he’d gotten some details wrong?”
Magnus looked up, startled, and Perceptor had to fight the urge to duck his head like a sheepish student getting the answer wrong. “I’m no expert on the subject, of course!” he defended himself. “How visions of the future might come to a Prime and how much interpretation one might have to do-” He halted, torn between frazzled and gratified, when Magnus started to laugh.
“I don’t have a clue either!” the Commander declared. “Perhaps I really am spinning myself in circles. Thank you, Perceptor, I needed that perspective.”
“You’re… welcome,” Perceptor said, rather warmed by the praise, though he couldn’t resist adding, “…I think.”
“Perceptor… do you remember Optimus Prime’s last words?”
Ultra Magnus was not the type of mech who paced. He did not fidget, did not run his engine, or any other of the many nervous tics Autobots displayed when agitated - but he was pacing now, measuring the length of the small common room over and over, seeming heedless of Perceptor’s bewildered gaze.
“I will never forget them,” Perceptor answered at last, not unwilling but even now the recollection hurt. “’One day an Autobot shall rise from our ranks, and use the power of the Matrix…’”
“…to light our darkest hour,” Magnus finished. “I’ll never forget them either.”
“Why do you ask?” Perceptor wanted to know. “Was it just to confirm your memory’s accuracy?”
Magnus paused in his pacing to lean against the chair opposite Perceptor. He still seemed too keyed up to want to sit down, which was just as well, because the chair he leaned on was not rated for his weight class. “Something like that,” he admitted.
Despite himself, Perceptor was growing concerned. Ultra Magnus did not display uncertainty like this, either. “…is there anything I can do to help?” he offered.
“Oh, believe me, if you can tell me where the Matrix is now, or produce that ghost Prime…” At Perceptor’s befuddled blink, Magnus withdrew again, body language becoming much more closed-in. “I apologize,” he said. “That was a bit uncalled-for.”
“It’s quite all right, Commander,” Perceptor was quick to assure him. “Believe me, I have wondered the same thing.”
As had most of the Autobots, he suspected. A new Prime, shining with the wisdom of the ages, speaking with a hundred voices. He appeared when all seemed lost, unleashed the power of Primus on the vast and ancient being that threatened their very world, and then disappeared as suddenly as he’d appeared. Perceptor was almost sorry he’d missed the spectacle.
Ultra Magnus, by contrast, looked like he’d much rather archive the whole business in memory storage. “I just… I suppose I want to believe that I haven’t lost the Matrix. That I haven’t failed Optimus Prime.”
Old friend, it is to you… Perceptor shook his head. “I know it’s easier said than done, but please try not to blame yourself for what happened. You did everything you could.” Magnus’s gaze slid away from him and Perceptor knew he was right, it was easier said than done. “…Prime himself would say the same,” Perceptor added in his own defense.
Magnus visibly stifled a laugh. “That he would. And the way he said it I would almost believe it.” He surrendered to the inevitable, then, finding a chair that would take his frame and sinking down into it. “But the fact remains that the Matrix is - out of our hands. Either it’s with a mech who may not exist, or it was destroyed, or flung into space.”
“Perhaps it considers its ultimate purpose served?” Perceptor wondered. “Not that I’ve ever come across any records of the Matrix being sapient enough to make that determination, but you have to admit, it did light our darkest hour.”
“That it did,” Magnus agreed. “But if that were the case, then the other half of Prime’s prophecy, an Autobot from our ranks…”
“…then the question becomes, who is this Autobot, why do they not reveal themselves, and is the Matrix still in their possession?” Perceptor realized. “…oh dear. That’s three questions.”
“Three among many,” Magnus muttered.
Perceptor had clearly not cheered Magnus up in the slightest. He fidgeted a bit - and he was the type of mech to fidget - before venturing, “Had Optimus Prime ever made any other prophecies? Forgive me, I only knew him for a short while.”
Magnus’s optics grew dim, faraway. “…none, so far as I know,” he answered quietly. “He’d always said he’d been spared that particular gift.”
“Then… this is rather unkind of me to say. But… if this was his first prophecy, perhaps he’d gotten some details wrong?”
Magnus looked up, startled, and Perceptor had to fight the urge to duck his head like a sheepish student getting the answer wrong. “I’m no expert on the subject, of course!” he defended himself. “How visions of the future might come to a Prime and how much interpretation one might have to do-” He halted, torn between frazzled and gratified, when Magnus started to laugh.
“I don’t have a clue either!” the Commander declared. “Perhaps I really am spinning myself in circles. Thank you, Perceptor, I needed that perspective.”
“You’re… welcome,” Perceptor said, rather warmed by the praise, though he couldn’t resist adding, “…I think.”
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Aw, poor Ultra Magnus, glad Perceptor's able to give him some perspective <3
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