Hurt: A Symbiote Droid Tale

Chapter 3

Roller onlined to messages scrolling across his HUD. He was getting sick of seeing the errors. He didn't want to admit that they also scared him. Surprised, but grateful, Roller found at least one of the errors had disappeared.

Energon Levels: 81%

Some mecha had topped it off?

"His chances of living are slim, my Lord." An unknown voice proclaimed.

"I won't take that as an acceptable answer." A deeper, rougher voice said. It was familiar, calling out to Roller.

"My Lord, most of his internals are either rusted, corroded, or fried. Replacing all those parts- custom parts, would take too long. His spark would go out from insufficient sustenance before everything could be replaced."

The deeper voice hummed, thinking. Roller took the opportunity to online his optics. They flickered on for a klik before powering down. Roller tried again, same thing happened. Frustrated, Roller tried rerouting his already limited power supply.

"What about a spark transfer?" The deep voice queried.

The other stayed silent for a moment. "It could work, but... sparks are delicate. Especially symbiotes. There are specifications that each requires. Just some new generic frame won't work. As close to the original would be for the best. But... my Lord, what exactly is he, I've never seen-"

"Thank you, Pharma, that will be all." Roller finally got his optics to work and turned his helm. It was hard, a little jerky. It put a strain on his neck cables. But, nonetheless, he was able to see a gun metal mech. He was big, a part of Roller's processor tagged him as a war frame. Scars overlay all over his plating. Roller feels like he should be scared, but he finds the sight of the mech oddly comforting.

"Lord?" He crackles out through his vocalizer, remembering what the other mech called him. Roller wanted to get confused because his coding registered him as the safe unit Megatronus. But instead he got stuck on the stabbing sensation that went through his vocalizer.

The red optics turned to him, staring intently for a breem. "You are dismissed, Pharma." The other mech fluffed his wings before leaving. Lord/Megatronus started forward.

"Roller..." The war frame said, sitting down on the berth. Roller realized how small he looked in comparison. The mech's EM field flowed over him, strong and awed.

Roller tried to lean into the field, finding comfort. "Megatronus-" he spit out, wincing (or attempting to) when the pain stabbed through him again.

That field wrapped throughout him like a warm mesh blanket. "Calm yourself." Lord/Megatronus said in a gentle commanding voice, just as comfortable as his presence. "You are safe. And no longer alone." He paused. "Are you in any pain right now, Roller?"

Roller pinged back affirmative.

"Okay..." Lord/Megatronus turned away before almost coming immediately back with a small square in his hand. "I'm going to apply this to the back of your helm. It's a pain patch... should give you some relief."

Lord/Megatronus lifted Roller's upper body. The pain patch applied in kliks. Roller immediately felt it take affect, numbing his receptors. He felt some tension in his frame relax. He laced his field with gratitude, the other's fused with his, sharing in his comfort.

"Roller... you are very damaged, Roller. It is... not good." Lord/Megatronus said, almost hesitating.

Roller understood what his safe unit was trying to say- or not to say. He didn't really remember the trek here, but he remembered his onlining, digging himself out of the scrap. Before, transforming had been easy. Any movement had been easy. Rust was rare. It was not like that anymore.