the promised land

[Grimlock]

Grimlock stayed close as Toolbox was given the two cubes of energon, shakily draining both cubes of their contents as he filled himself with the wondrous substance. Just by watching him alone, the Dinobot could tell he had been seriously under fueled, but not to what extent. All he knew was that it was a bad thing.

He plopped down onto the ground, looking to the two Mini-Cons as the injured one finally introduced himself by name. Now that Grimlock knew it, now he finally could talk to the two of them and say which one he wanted the attention of. If only it'd really been that simple though. The moment Toolbox were to be fixed, then the poor Dinobot was going to struggle to be able to tell the difference between them both.

Nodding alone, he looked to poor Toolbox as Fixit informed him that he could talk whenever he was ready. The poor guy was already so over stressed. He didn't need any more damage to his psyche.

"I'll just stay here and keep an optic on ya both." Best to be prepared in the event that the Decepticons invaded the base.

[Deleted]

His worries at being perceived as dreadfully rude (most unbecoming for a minicon: his time in captivity must have dulled his manners) were soothed by Fixit’s understanding words. His fears of Decepticons were likewise eased a little by Grimlock’s assurances that he would stand guard, though he was still visibly wary of the Dinobot. Old habits died hard, especially when those habits previously kept one alive. Toolbox perked up then at the verbal tick, concern crossing his face. “Your memory? Are your internal databases damaged? Is there anything I can do to help?” Minicons took care of their own as well as others, after all, and he was first and foremost a caretaker bot. “P-Perhaps you are familiar with my batchmates? Flowchart, Schematic, and Rundown. We received our upgrades together.”

Toolbox was grateful for the chance to rest, for he did not know if he was emotionally able to recall his tale. The weary minicon had settled into the command centre (which he took an immediate liking too, purely because it was a defensible and secure spot that doubled as an excellent place to hide if needed) to rest and recuperate and allow himself to be fussed over. Perhaps luckily for Grimlock but unfortunately for Toolbox, the inhibitor collar that marked him apart from his fellow minicon did not budge, even with the resonating frequency. Toolbox did his best to hide his disappointment: he would bear the sign of his subjugation longer, it seemed.

It wasn’t until later on in the day after tucking himself up in the command centre with his back in a defensible corner that he felt ready to talk, and he was glad to also know that there would be no judgement. He shuddered, took a deep breath, and finally began to tell his story. “I was in the main section of the ship when it crashed off the coast of this continent." What followed then was a brief but harrowing tale of how the prisoners in the main section of the Alchemor took advantage of the chaos to enslave their mini-con jailors, before forcing them to labour endlessly to repair the ship and make it flight-capable once more. It was clear that there were many more details to the story, but he’d pared it down to the important parts. “... They fitted us with inhibitor collars so that we could not transform or access our weapons systems. They b-beat us if we did not work fast enough. And those of us th-that did not have the strength t-to go on…” The grief and trauma upon poor Toolbox’s face was evidence enough of what happened to those unfortunate souls. Their Decepticon overseers saw no use in keeping slaves who could not work any longer.

"Please, I cannot leave the rest of my brethren back there! You m-must help me!"