Hope prompt tf_ic_prompts
Rumble lies stretched out on the roof of the Cabin. His optics are fixed on the night sky in a mixture of sullen glaring and wistful gazing.
The soft cycling of his fans blends with the sounds squishy creatures are making in the woods.
His internal chronometer says he has been up here for a joor.
A joor of waiting, listening, switching through all the frequencies he has known Soundwave to use and sending time and again pings… As if he doesn’t have a perfectly comfortable berth in the cabin! As if the reception would be better on the roof!
With a disgusted snort, he diverts his optics from the sky and the invisible something keeping them imprisoned in this place.
As if he isn’t always tuned in to Soundwave’s frequencies and ready to receive…
Rumble is very aware that he is being ridiculous.
Even worse, he is being melodramatic. Worse than Swindle with his sparkmate grief woes, possibly. On his way to becoming a loony Autobot. He’s already started to feel pesky pangs of conscience, after all…
His lips shape into a disgusted sneer at the thought. Should get that checked out, too. It’s either a virus or a malfunction and both tend to get worse if left untreated. But it’d mean going to Scorponok and… yeah. Not gonna happen. He might be melodramatic, but he’s not masochistic. As long as he doesn’t act on the icky moral urges, they’ll just be his dirty little secret. He can handle it. Nothing easier than that!
He sends another ping on the secure team-only frequency.
For a moment, barely an astrosecond, he still feels hope every time he sends a ping out or attempts to comm Soundwave. There is still that moment when he is certain that any moment now, he will reply or block him or do something else to prove to Rumble that he is in the Nexus and receiving.
Just as all the times before, nothing but silence answers him.
The disappointment hurts every time, too.
Every time it hurts less, though. Rumble wishes it didn’t. For with every attempt to make contact, the hope lessens, too. The output from his emotions chip has become so faint his processor barely registers it anymore.
He opens the comm. to Soundwave’s frequency, no encryption, just in case Soundwave has lost access to his decoding files - and if he receives it, certainly he will respond to tell Rumble off for being so careless?
//Boss?// It feels odd, transmitting into a void, no connection to a receiving comm. unit. Feels pathetic, actually. Rumble turns off the alert flashing an error message. If he wants to pretend, he fragging well will pretend!
//You’re gone, boss, aren’t you? I think you are. I’ve been thinking it for a while.//
He idly activates his battle programming and targets a tree, just for the feeling of familiarity it provides. It had felt so good to blast the door to Chromia’s bunker.
//I was still hoping you’re around somewhere, on some secret mission for Megatron. But he’s gone and you haven’t returned… I don’t even know if our Ravage is still here. I think he’s gone, too. Maybe he found the way out you used.//
If only the truce would be over already… Everything will be better when the war has restarted, that is the one hope Rumble clings to. But even war is so terribly complicated without Soundwave to tell him what to do and think. Swindle seemed determined to restart the war, even if he has to go against Cyclonus’ orders. Rumble hadn’t paid attention to it right away, he’d been too busy being outraged at the time, but he’d thought about Swindle’s words later. He’d put two and two together then and he still isn’t sure how to feel about it. Because helping Swindle commit insubordination and restart a war is pretty big stuff. Too big for an “act, don’t think” cassette. It’s frightening.
//I’m not supposed to make big decisions on my own, boss! Come on, gimme a break! Please. I can’t do this. I’m not programmed for that kind of slag!//
Rumble’s fans cycle faster in agitation. He’s been doing a lot of stuff he isn’t programmed for ever since coming to the Nexus. He made more decisions than he liked to on his own without Soundwave to guide. He learned to consider consequences - well, occasionally - since there was no one to bail him out. He’s even been desperate enough to learn how friendship with non-teammates works, though it’s still trial and error - mostly error. Tried getting himself substitute teammates as well, unintentional as it was - and consisting of even more errors than the friendship slag.
//I don’t like what the Nexus has made of me, boss. Not just because it’s turned me broody and makes me send comm. calls to nobody, either! I hate this fragging place! I hate it more than Autobots and cleaning duty and Skywarp’s bucket pranks! Royalty Beyond, I hope you’re fragging listening!//
“Launch… Slag!” He cancels the prepping sequence of his missile launchers and rubs a heated winglet. No fooling around with the targeting systems when he’s fragged off. Alright. Lesson learned.
//I miss you, boss.//
He listens into the void, waiting for an answer, for anything. Squishies had this funny term of ‘deafening silence.’ Rumble hasn’t understood it.
Now understanding dawns and with it, the little piece of his processor that clung to the belief that Soundwave is still here lets go at last.
Holding on to hope has become impossible.
The soft cycling of his fans blends with the sounds squishy creatures are making in the woods.
His internal chronometer says he has been up here for a joor.
A joor of waiting, listening, switching through all the frequencies he has known Soundwave to use and sending time and again pings… As if he doesn’t have a perfectly comfortable berth in the cabin! As if the reception would be better on the roof!
With a disgusted snort, he diverts his optics from the sky and the invisible something keeping them imprisoned in this place.
As if he isn’t always tuned in to Soundwave’s frequencies and ready to receive…
Rumble is very aware that he is being ridiculous.
Even worse, he is being melodramatic. Worse than Swindle with his sparkmate grief woes, possibly. On his way to becoming a loony Autobot. He’s already started to feel pesky pangs of conscience, after all…
His lips shape into a disgusted sneer at the thought. Should get that checked out, too. It’s either a virus or a malfunction and both tend to get worse if left untreated. But it’d mean going to Scorponok and… yeah. Not gonna happen. He might be melodramatic, but he’s not masochistic. As long as he doesn’t act on the icky moral urges, they’ll just be his dirty little secret. He can handle it. Nothing easier than that!
He sends another ping on the secure team-only frequency.
For a moment, barely an astrosecond, he still feels hope every time he sends a ping out or attempts to comm Soundwave. There is still that moment when he is certain that any moment now, he will reply or block him or do something else to prove to Rumble that he is in the Nexus and receiving.
Just as all the times before, nothing but silence answers him.
The disappointment hurts every time, too.
Every time it hurts less, though. Rumble wishes it didn’t. For with every attempt to make contact, the hope lessens, too. The output from his emotions chip has become so faint his processor barely registers it anymore.
He opens the comm. to Soundwave’s frequency, no encryption, just in case Soundwave has lost access to his decoding files - and if he receives it, certainly he will respond to tell Rumble off for being so careless?
//Boss?// It feels odd, transmitting into a void, no connection to a receiving comm. unit. Feels pathetic, actually. Rumble turns off the alert flashing an error message. If he wants to pretend, he fragging well will pretend!
//You’re gone, boss, aren’t you? I think you are. I’ve been thinking it for a while.//
He idly activates his battle programming and targets a tree, just for the feeling of familiarity it provides. It had felt so good to blast the door to Chromia’s bunker.
//I was still hoping you’re around somewhere, on some secret mission for Megatron. But he’s gone and you haven’t returned… I don’t even know if our Ravage is still here. I think he’s gone, too. Maybe he found the way out you used.//
If only the truce would be over already… Everything will be better when the war has restarted, that is the one hope Rumble clings to. But even war is so terribly complicated without Soundwave to tell him what to do and think. Swindle seemed determined to restart the war, even if he has to go against Cyclonus’ orders. Rumble hadn’t paid attention to it right away, he’d been too busy being outraged at the time, but he’d thought about Swindle’s words later. He’d put two and two together then and he still isn’t sure how to feel about it. Because helping Swindle commit insubordination and restart a war is pretty big stuff. Too big for an “act, don’t think” cassette. It’s frightening.
//I’m not supposed to make big decisions on my own, boss! Come on, gimme a break! Please. I can’t do this. I’m not programmed for that kind of slag!//
Rumble’s fans cycle faster in agitation. He’s been doing a lot of stuff he isn’t programmed for ever since coming to the Nexus. He made more decisions than he liked to on his own without Soundwave to guide. He learned to consider consequences - well, occasionally - since there was no one to bail him out. He’s even been desperate enough to learn how friendship with non-teammates works, though it’s still trial and error - mostly error. Tried getting himself substitute teammates as well, unintentional as it was - and consisting of even more errors than the friendship slag.
//I don’t like what the Nexus has made of me, boss. Not just because it’s turned me broody and makes me send comm. calls to nobody, either! I hate this fragging place! I hate it more than Autobots and cleaning duty and Skywarp’s bucket pranks! Royalty Beyond, I hope you’re fragging listening!//
“Launch… Slag!” He cancels the prepping sequence of his missile launchers and rubs a heated winglet. No fooling around with the targeting systems when he’s fragged off. Alright. Lesson learned.
//I miss you, boss.//
He listens into the void, waiting for an answer, for anything. Squishies had this funny term of ‘deafening silence.’ Rumble hasn’t understood it.
Now understanding dawns and with it, the little piece of his processor that clung to the belief that Soundwave is still here lets go at last.
Holding on to hope has become impossible.