The Burden Hardest to Bear

Which of Henry VIII's wives are you?
this quiz was made by Lori Fury

I'm sure there's a cultural reference here that I'm not getting.

What with one thing and another, it's been a busy few days for me... I almost missed a certain anniversary. Does it make me a hopeless dork that I still remember the exact date?

Well, anyway, skipping my medbay appointment for a date with a cube of high-grade seems like an appropriate way to celebrate, in his persistent absence.

*contemplates his cube, sighs and hoists it up*

To Galvatron - may he continue to be a danger to everyone around him for millenia to come.

*drinks*

Dare I say it... I look positively kickass.

Wayward does good work.

*headdesk* *headdesk* *HEADDESK*

I'm going to the Pit. In a rickety slagging cargo skiff.

*goes back to trying to blot out the memory via the time-honored standby, blunt-force trauma to the cranium*

Attention all:

My kitten mode does not, in any way, resemble Puss in Boots. I would very much prefer that in the future when you encounter me in kitten mode you refrain from attempting to shove me in little boots and a hat.

That is all.

Never should have sponsored that field trip to see Shrek the Third...

This gives me ideas.

*heads over to eBay*

((Typist note: I am so, so sorry.))

Just when I thought it was safe to go back out in the halls...

...somebody took the crew out to see 300.

The halls ring with declamations of ancient Greek city-states. And I do mean that literally.

And I thought Spartacus was bad.

*To avoid inter-faction complications, Rodimus is using his own shuttle to get back to Autobot City. Rather, he's borrowing a shuttle that the Dis 'borrowed' from some other unfortunate.*

*After verifying his identity with the EDC and setting the autopilot to get him into orbit without mishap, Rodimus gathers his courage and opens a comm line to Metroplex's intercom to address the Autobots.*

//Autobots; Rodimus here. I'm coming home. I trust everything's been running smoothly while I'm gone... For a change. *audible grin*//

//I've got souveneirs for everybody; stop by my office sometime. *pause* I also owe you all an apology. I shouldn't have run off like that, so soon after another crisis. You all made me - would've made Optimus proud. And you deserved better. I'm sorry.//

//If you'd like to yell at me, again, drop by my office. The door's always open.//

*That done, Rodimus sits back in the pilot's chair and watches the solar system flash by.*

I'm back. And un-human-ified. Finally.

Springer: *from offscreen* Let's go, Rod! Those kids at the hospital aren't getting any sicker!

...-_- *shouts back* Springer, you are so getting coal in your stocking! *grumbles goodnaturedly and gathers up his beard and hat for his role as Roddy Claus*

...Anyway, joyful greetings, everyone. *ahem* I mean, ho ho ho.

((Okay, Rath, I did it. Now it's your turn. ;P











Well, now we know why Roddy and 'Boots get along so well. ^_^;; ))

*Yes, the slaves get bathroom breaks. Carefully monitored and strictly controlled and with no pretense made at privacy whatsoever, but there comes a certain point where your body does not care who's looking.*

*Roddy's picked up a few habits from the humans he works with, though, so on the single bathroom break he gets per day - the other two having been taken away as punishment for various infractions, real or imagined - he faces the wall, hands covering himself as best he can from the flinty black eyes of the Skuxxoid guard on duty. He sighs and tries to relax.*

*Trying to relax, of course, has always been counterproductive, and in the meantime there are voices coming down the hall. Rodimus stills out of habit, listening for orders or the crackle that heralds a punishing shock from his collar. His head bowed, he catches blue trader-legs out of the corner of his eye, along with a gray blur...*

"As you can see, production is progressing smoothly. Slave rebellion is quelled..." "Reports of worker loss and productivity lulls suggest otherwise. I want to see discipline, Daru." "Ah - of course, Celebrexa..."

*All possibility of relaxation is gone. Roddy's jaw clenches as he fights not to attack the pair right then. Can't put himself, can't put the others in danger, but that was a Quintesson...*

*thinks* Autobots do not work for Quints. Not now, not ever.

((Continued from here.))

*Rodimus enters his office - stalks would be more like it, as he's still quite pissed off that someone has screwed with one of his.* Metroplex, enact all available security measures. I want this room locked down.

*Without waiting for a response, he activates his personal comm and speaks into it tightly.* Spike, Carly, report to my office, please. Immediately. *It's not often that he pulls rank with the humans, especially these particular humans, but he'll bake them a cake as apology or something later.*

Void's defeated (and now I'm glad I found those silicon crystals), and his forces are captured and/or defected. Galvatron still has his head, and I mean that in both senses, but it was a near thing for a while. We lost friends in the doing... I'm sorry, Dreadboots. Would your flock mind if I sent the convincelings over to visit them? They've been giving me sadfaces all day.

I've... been thinking a lot since we got home, about how the Autobots and Decepticons worked together. There was a lot less friction than I was expecting... we actually seemed to get along for the most part. I can't help but wonder if it's possible to extend the truce we have now into something more.

We made a good team, didn't we?

*If anyone asks, Rodimus has the fact that he's been coordinating repairs between the Dis and the EDC as an excuse for why he's driving slowly. The fact that Galvatron's half-slagged, limping along in midair at his bumper has absolutely nothing to do with his pace whatsoever.*

*Nevertheless, he's never been so glad to see the massive gates of Metroplex. He quickens his engine just a little before catching himself, forcing himself to continue at the same slow, steady pace until they reach the bridge.*

Metroplex, stand down.

*As the doors yawn open, Rodimus transforms and scans the sky over his shoulder, waiting for a familiar blue shape.*

*Rodimus Prime stands at the edge of one of Autobot City's top-level landing pads, fist raised level with his chest as if in salute. A panel on his forearm lifts away and he begins to speak, steady and strong.*

Attention, Autobots. This is Rodimus Prime. I'm sending out a Class One Alert, so everyone to their stations and gear up. My - *bitter smile* alternate is in the area and if he doesn't come after us, then we're going after him. I want all scanners to full, I don't care where you get the power from. If you see him or his servants, shoot on sight. The truce does not apply to Void - repeat, the truce does not apply.

Rodimus Prime out.

*He shuts his comm off, then turns back to his companions - Galvatron, Cyclonus, Scourge, Dreadboots, and Scourge's alternate from the Voidverse - all Decepticons for whom the truce does apply - as well as a rather worried Ariel.*

All right. *nods* Let's get started.

((The typist runs by holding a sign that says "This way for Void Saga Part One."))

...yep, it's my birthday. Against all odds, I have survived another year.

^_^;;

*Rodimus Prime's everpresent typist enters his quarters, cautiously when she sees that the light is still off.*

Typist: ...Roddy?

*Atop the berth, Rodimus stirs painfully. The moogle trots over and pokes his hand where it hangs over.*

Typist: Roddy, you're missing a staff meeting.

Rodimus: ...mrf. Good. *stirs, lifts his head up and blinks* ...oh, ow. *winces*

Typist: ...are you okay?

Rodimus: *turns one of his obviously-false smiles on her* Just overdid it a little last night. I'll be okay. Tell Magnus... *winces again and sits up slowly* ...well, make something up.

Typist: *pauses, worried, then sighs* Will do.

*exit typist. Rodimus doesn't move except to put a hand to his forehead*