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“You know-” Rodimus huffed, exhausted. He stood up high on the support beams of some man-made warehouse. Peering down below where red smoke, and ensnarled optics stared up at him. He shifted his pedes and tilted himself over the edge.
“Everyone else got bored of this rather fast- what's so special about me, Ultra Magnus?”
The response from Ultra Magnus was a breathy snarl, the mech- inflicted by Hate Disease- slammed into one of the support beams. Too big to simply clamber up after Rodimus. His Second’s plating seemed to quiver with the uncontrollable anger the plague inflicted. Although, how much of it really was just the disease, and not Ultra Magnus' own frustrations boiling over for his sorry excuse of a leader, Rodimus wasn’t sure.
There was no legible response from Magnus, aside from a few curses and shouts for Rodimus to get down and face him. Rodimus sighed, pushing himself into the hook of the metal. He just had to wait, trusting Wreck-Gar or some other hero, free from the disease, would find him.
“You always run from your problems,” the mech spits. Rodimus bit his tongue. The action didn’t matter much anyways. This time Magnus managed to finally slice through the beam, and Rodimus- still distracted on catching his breath- didn’t have the time to grab onto something else. He went crashing down. Hissing as his spoiler wings caught on collapsed splinters of wood, dust and bent metal.
He attempted to get up, slip out from where he’d first entered, but Magnus was already there.
This was it! A servo had pressed up against his chest dragging him up out of the debris, Rodimus waited for the red to envelope him. Waiting for the heat of anger to frenzy his processor- but nothing happened.
He raised his own two servos and pressed them against Ultra Magnus. Heat radiated from the mech. He forced Magnus backwards, but still nothing spread. Ultra Magnus shut his mouth with a snapping noise. Stumbling over the collapsed debris.
It didn’t affect me.
His Second came at him again, but this time Rodimus caught him.
“You are weak,” Ultra Magnus snarled, and Rodimus flung him to the side. He cursed himself on picking such a formidable Second when Magnus used the momentum to catch himself and launched right back at Rodimus.
“Tell me something new! This is your big shot Magnus, the only time it’ll be acceptable to bad-talk me,” He was stalling with no direction, but maybe the attention appeased Magnus, for he slowed. Circling Rodimus with wide movement, like animals preparing to strike. “Besides, you can’t get me. I’m immune.”
Somehow, unless it's late. Still running through my systems.
“Wasting time. All you do is talk! It’s not how a Prime should act!”
“Really? I didn’t see that in the manual.”
He watched as Ultra Magnus shuddered. Digits reaching up to grab at his own helm. Rodimus took the moment of pause to distance himself further.
“Undisciplined, reckless, crude! Nothing you say ever makes sense- it’s not right! No one before you ever acted in such a manner, someone like you… you desecrate the honour that comes with such a role. I should have stopped this- I should have taken your place.”
Rodimus sought not to flinch, “I know… I know that Magnus, I wish the Matrix had chosen you.”
A digit subconsciously raised to press against his chest. The hum of power responded underneath it. Of course. That was it, the Matrix was somehow blocking the plague. Killing the virus before it could reach his systems. He ex-vented, relief flooding his circuitry. If the Matrix could reverse it for him, that meant it held a cure. If I could just get away from Magnus’ I could try and figure out how to use it on the others.
Magnus began to lurch towards him again, so he threw up his servos in retreat.
“Alright… What else do you hate about me?”
“Hate.. you?” Wide optics narrowed.
Rodimus flashed a smile, “Or you could confess something nicer, it’s your call, old friend.”
“That!” Ultra Magnus snapped, “Your smile! All you do is smile.”
Rodimus let his optics glance upwards. The torn pillar he had once held onto for support had tugged metal and wiring out from the roof. It all looked loose, dangerously close to collapse. His spoiler wings flicked up and down as he stepped backwards, trying to gauge the distance between one of the dangling support beams. Ultra Magnus followed him, shaking his helm.
“-and those wings.”
“My wings?” He repeated dumbly, tuning back into the mechs rambling.
“They’re distracting.”
Rodimus blinked.
“Huh?”
That seemed to invigorate the mech further, “It’s always a distraction from you, Prime,” he spat, shuddering against the disease “you worsen me, weaken me. Your voice, your smile, your wings. They’re so- they- they glint, they’re pretty, shiny, like gold. I hate it.”
And Rodimus froze, nearly tripping over himself. Pretty? Was the disease becoming terminal? Hate frying Magnus’ processor? Ultra Magnus found him pretty? He shook his helm. For Primus' sake, the disease was meant to anger its afflicted victims, not pull out inner truths.
Still... He wanted to question further, find out what other things Magnus might spill while frenzied but the older Mech had finally grown tired of his stalling. He took the pause to lunge towards Rodimus, servos out like claws aimed at grabbing him. In an instant Rodimus fired up at the roof, startling backwards. He fell over himself onto the ground, just as one of the steel beams fell directly onto Ultra Magnus' back. Trapping him beneath the metal.
When the dust cleared the mech was already clawing at the metal. Trying to kick it loose. “Face me!” Ultra Magnus barked, “Fight me, I'll put an end to this!”
The moment had passed, bitterly, Rodimus turned to flee.