The Broken Window

Repair Bay- &lt;Autobot City&gt; - Outskirts of San Francisco

This is the main repair bay for the Autobots. Several operating tables lie in a row here, and a long bench lines one wall. On the bench are assorted tools used in repairing damaged Transformers. Scattered throughout the room are various repair bots, awaiting the arrival of more wounded to repair. The room gives you the perception of being immaculately clean, not a tool out of place.

On the left side of the operating arena are wide sliding doors that open into the recovery ward. Less frantic than the busy repair bay, it consists of two rows of immaculate beds on opposite walls for those needing peace and quiet to rest and recover from their repairs. The sounds of quiet conversations between medic and patient, or between visitor and patient, are about all that disturb the quiet.

Contents:

Pink Saturn Sky &lt;Arcee&gt;

Sunstreaker

Dr. Autobot

Obvious exits: North &lt;N&gt; leads to First Floor Lobby. Southeast &lt;SE&gt; leads to Munitions Bay. West &lt;W&gt; leads to Lounge. Down &lt;D&gt; leads to Training Chamber.

Sunstreaker is still plugged into a number of machines, offlined for the time being as scans are being run to see if he's dealing with shell shocked or...just off his rocker or...something.

Arcee is on a medical table awaiting some minor repairs. She looks like she's probably gotten into a recent scuff, but she's online and relaxing in a reclined position.

Apocryphacius is so very, very happy to be back on Earth, even if it is only for a while. Assigned to... the Autobot City repair bay. Oh well. He pokes in and starts to look over the charts, greeting. "Good cycle, Su - oh, he is unconscious," he pages down and then looks back up, "Arcee! Autobot Arcee. Yes."

Arcee smiles, and sits up. "Oh, hello!" she greets cheerfully. "If you need to know anything about Sunstreaker's condition, just ask. I'm not sure how he is now or what the scans indicate, but...I witnessed his strange behavior."

"An optic-witness account would be quite useful, Autobot Arcee," Apocryphacius says softly, and he wonders - do Transformers have the same problems that human witnesses do? He hopes not. Apocryphacius checks over the scans of Sunstreaker, and he logs himself into a medical workstation, and he tries to pull up if there are any past scans of Sunstreaker for comparison.

"OK, well I walked into the repair bay, and there he was, training," Arcee recalls. "And we had a little discussion, then he asked me if I wanted to spar with him. Sounded good to me. Plus -- and this I can remember quite clearly -- he was being really...mmm, 'reserved', I suppose is a good word for it. He wasn't bragging, acting like a jerk, talking about his paint job...he was quiet and it was like something big was on his mind. Then, we began training...and this is where things got REALLY strange."

Apocryphacius listens intently, though his faces switch around. He starts a cautious physical exam of Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker may be unconscious, but some of his reflexes should still be working. Apocryphacius checks for reflexes, which might indicate some kind of wiring deficit or damage. He also looks for any obvious surface damage... and for tiny little holes. He prompts, "Yes?"

Apocryphacius transforms into his Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; mode.

His reflexes are quick and accurate, right in time with what his charts say they should be. The scars he received from his last assignment are almost healed over and it seems strange that he wasn't fussing about them or doing what he could to disguise them.

Arcee still gets the creeps when she sees a Quint change faces. She KNOWS Apoc's a special case, but she has a long memory. "Hm? -- Oh, right! So we're training. And suddenly, he gets this really murderous look in his optics, and it's as if he's in a kill ring, you know? He begins seriously attempting to harm me, instead of going through the motions. I knew nothing was really going to happen while we were IN the training room, but I was VERY concerned that he would run around me and get out into some other part of the base. I called in Magnus, and Solstice. We managed to get him in here, but he was completely in this 'kill' mode for a little while. Then whem he switched back, he was annoyed that I even suggested he had a glitch. It was as if nothing ever happened, and he didn't believe any of us."

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; checks over the scars again, and then, grudgingly, he starts work on opening up Sunstreaker's head. He says aloud, "I am going to do a search for cerebro shells. Standard procedure in case of personality abnormalities. The situation definitely sounds unusual. Do you know who he last fought in battle, Autobot Arcee?"

"Negative, only that he was on some long assignment, and it seemed to take a terrible toll on him," Arcee says, shaking her head. Sunstreaker (Sunny) pages: He was sent to Cybertron (according to his files) to secure locations for supply drops in some of the unsecured areas where unsavory 'things' dwell and creatures and things that aren't even 'mechs' any more. He came back with physical damage all over him after being gone for almost a year.

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; shakes a little, when Arcee alludes to whatever Sunstreaker may have been doing. He takes a moment to collect himself. He says softly, "Ah. A pity. Details would help."

He pauses in opening up Sunstreaker's head to see what his access will let him pull up on Sunstreaker's files. "...oh dear. There are a... large number of... different things that could have happened to him."

The Quintesson resumes his work on opening Sunstreaker's head. He also looks at Sunstreaker's scans again. Specifically, he looks at Sunstreaker's active processes. What's he running? How much RAM is he using?

Arcee looks on from her own table curiously. "I do remember he was so *angry* when he first returned, he crashed a meeting in Decagon in a rather shocking way. They still talk about it..." She frowns slightly. "He felt as though he'd been abandoned, and he told Fort Max as much. I really wish I had more details for you."

"Abandonment, real or imagined, can have powerful effects on the psyche," Apocryphacius murmurs. "He seems to be running on... survival programming. Looks like some of his earliest routines."

The Quintesson looks over Sunstreaker's files some more, going way back to Sunstreaker's pre-war days. "...Sunstreaker was a pit gladiator? Does that sound right to you, Autobot Arcee?" Apocryphacius seems a bit taken aback.

"Sure. In fact...I would say that makes perfect sense. Fighting him in the training room was exactly like fighting a gladiator. No-holds-barred style brawl," Arcee says. "A *really* ugly fight. Not the way you would train with a friend. I really thought he was going to attempt to kill me, that's how completely crazed he was."

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; cautions, "It may have seemed 'crazy' to you, but I suspect his behaviour seemed perfectly rational to him at the time. Do not be too hard on him, Autobot Arcee. Sunstreaker needs help. As dangerous as he may be to others, he is also a danger to himself, and we must keep his well-being foremost in mind. He may feel extremely guilty about his actions later, and we need to be certain that we do not hinder his recovery with recriminations. As such, I must advise against using the term 'crazy'. He is ill, simply put. Now, with your consent, Autobot Arcee... I would like to get to the bottom of this situation. I would ask your consent as an able-bodied Autobot, sound of mind, in pulling up some of Sunstreaker's memories during that away mission." Tapping memories is a very tricky business. Apocryphacius has tapped dreams, before. This won't be too different. He's in a fully stocked repair bay. There's no time crunch and no pressure. Tricky or not, he thinks he can do it and that it will help him and Arcee understand the nature of Sunstreaker's illness.

"Well...okay..." Arcee gives Apoc a sideways glance, indicating that she's not too sure about this...but for the betterment of Sunstreaker, she decides to do it anyhow. She slides off the medtable, strolling over to where Apoc is examining Sunstreaker. "What will I need to do?" she asks.

"All I need you to do is report that you signed off on this..." The Quintesson says lowly, laying out his electrical engineering tools on a tray. A few more leads are attached to Sunstreaker's core and then attached to a screen.

Apocryphacius does quite a bit of fussing. There's static. There's bad elevator music. There's more static. There's a commercial for carnauba wax. There's nonsensical geometric shapes.

It seems like it takes forever of moving the leads and tuning. And then, on the screen, there is:

''Think of the deepest darkest rottenest smelliest dingiest dirtiest place there could be deep within Cybertron. Those that aren't even really mechs anymore crawling around, scavenging, cannibalizing on each other and anything they can get their servos on. Sunny is stuck there trying to survive, killing again and again and again and they keep coming, trying to kill him. He gets one place secure and has to move onto another, only to have to go back there again later and clean it out again. He'd been dropped off on the mission to start but an early accidental shot to his Subspace took out most of the monitoring equipment and beacons he was supposed to use to mark off things. He tried getting in touch with others to send messages but no one ever responded or left him things at drop points.''

Arcee covers her mouth, looking stunned at the images. "By Primus, what kind of horrible mission did they send him on? *Alone*?? ...It's no wonder he was so damaged when he returned." She shakes her head, hardly believing what she's seeing is real, and actually happened to Sunstreaker.

Sunstreakers right servo twitches and his body armor seems to tighten automatically to his body as if in reaction to the memories.

Apocryphacius's faces flicker around. His whole bearing sags as he watches the screen, tentacles going limp. He says, very, very quietly, "Autobot Arcee, I think... these are the sorts of things that the rank and file are not meant to know."

They are the sort of things that happen to Apocryphacius. Sometimes.

"Nevertheless... this matter should perhaps be raised with Sunstreaker's superiors. Officers have a... duty to their troops. To look after them."

The screen shows:

'Over time, in the dark, he seems to not care any more about the way he looks. He's slipped into survival mode. He has a mission to complete. Find places to secure for supply dropoffs and restock depots. Once he knows the places he's set up will stay secure, he can finally return, but only to find that no one seemed to know about his mission or give a crap. Everyone else was too busy with petty, non-essential trivial matters that were honestly something best left to times of peace, not of war.''

Apocryphacius eyes the twitching, and he starts pulling sedatives out of his medical kit, thinking, not doing anything quite yet.

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; transforms into his Darkness &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; mode.

"This is so sad...how could he have been forgotten?" Arcee asks. "That's not how the Autobots I know behave. That's not how we function. We're a team. We don't forsake our teammates."

Darkness &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; knows some Autobots who would do worse than just forget someone, Arcee, but he isn't about to say that. "I have to wonder who Sunstreaker's handler for this case was. If only his handler knew Sunstreaker has been assigned to this mission - and if the handler unexpectedly died, communication could have been broken."

Setting the sedatives aside, Apocryphacius adds some more leads to Sunstreaker's lasercore and tries to enter some input to try to see if he can steer this recall at all. Who was Sunstreaker's handler?

Arcee is very idealistic when it comes to the Autobots, but...that's just how she is. Perhaps some day, some mech she encounters will tell her the truth. "That very well could have happened, and I think that either Rod or Fort Max would have that information," she says.

Sunstreaker seems to still again and as the memory file is steered back towards how it started, it appears as if Fort Max may have been the one to be the initial contact on this but it is perhaps not the original mech to have him assigned to the job.

Order are orders and passed down to be given to the one able to do it, is all that is required to get the job done.

Darkness &lt;Apocryphacius&gt;'s faces twist around, and the Quintesson's expression turns distinctly sour. "Well. Well, then. I suppose we know of whom to inquire with regards to this situation."

Apocryphacius doesn't actually feel comfortable walking up to Fortress Maximus and demanding to know why no one checked on Sunstreaker, though. That seems like a good way to get murdered in the middle of the night? The squeaky wheel gets *replaced*.

"It looks as though Sunstreaker has relapsed into his old kill or be killed gladiatorial ways as a result of his abandonment, be it accidental or intentional. Shut out emotions; avoid pain. React to any stimulus as a threat. Sunstreaker is going to need a great deal of emotional support, and I am going to submit a formal request that Sunstreaker be kept away from potentially triggering situations. No more solo missions. Nothing too deep behind enemy lines."

Darkness &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; transforms into his Wrath &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; mode.

"Well, you certainly have my support, for what it's worth," Arcee says sadly. "And if they don't make this some sort of priority, I'll do some hell raising, as Daniel likes to say. Sunstreaker needs someone to advocate for him -- to raise some hell. I'll do it. I'm not afraid to do it," she exclaims. "This is a terrible injustice, and it deserves to be addressed."

Wrath &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; makes a sound like a sigh, faces clicking around again. He advises, "Do be careful, Arcee. Sunstreaker deserves justice, yes, but deserves to be well most of all."

The Quintesson carefully and meticulously puts away all the leads and the scanning equipment. He checks that Sunstreaker is securely strapped down. Then he keys up a reboot sequence, and he hovers away to a 'safe' distance.

Wrath &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; transforms into his Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; mode.

Hound has arrived.

Arcee backs away from the medtable, taking a cue from Apoc who has just backed away from where Sunstreaker is being reactivated.

Sunstreakers systems begin to power up, moving at a higher pitch to indicate that his processor has started to activate protocols. Finally his optics flicker on, then off, then back on and stay on. He stares at the ceiling for a moment and then attempts to move his arm. When he realizes he can't he trys the other one, with the same result. "Wha...the frag?"

Only moments after Sunstreaker comes back online, the door to the medbay opens and Hound walks through. "I heard about what happened with Sunstreaker, and I thought I'd come to help," he explains, heading over to the operating table. Seeing that his old comrade is awake, he offers a friendly, reassuring smile. "Hey, how are you feeling? Everything okay?"

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; really does not think that he is the bot for this job. Especially because he is not actually a bot. No Transformer wants to hear a Quintesson telling him that there is something wrong with his behavior. Apocryphacius really wonders *why* he has to be the medic on duty, for some of these cases. Sanguine would do a much better job, he thinks. Torque, too.

Brainstorm might just install a black hole in Sunstreaker, though, so there is that.

He tries to sound soothing, "Auto - er- Sunstreaker. This is the repair bay in Autobot City, on Earth. You are among *friends*. Arcee has been very *worried* about you, and she is looking forward to talking with you.

Sunstreaker cycles his optics and frowns as he tries to look at is restraints. "Why am I tied down? They were just supposed to check for some hickups in my systems...then I'd be fine and could go home."

Arcee knows that the last time she tried being civil with Sunstreaker, he wasn't having any of it, so she's going to take a calmer approach this time. Especially now that she knows for certain what Sunstreaker's been through. "Listen...we've seen what you've seen...where you went...we've seen it. We believe you. *I* believe you."

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; tries to be diplomatic, "Due to certain events, you were restrained for your own safety, Sunstreaker. We need to discuss treatment options for your condition, if you feel up to it."

Sunstreaker looks between the two that spoke then back to Hound. His helm thunked against the exam table with an exhale of vent air. "I don't...I do't need treat...treatmentt..t..." says Sunstreaker as his optics start to dim. WIthin moments he's back out of it, sedatives still in his system making it hard for him to wake up all at once.

Sunstreaker has disconnected.

Arcee glances over at Apoc. "...Didn't much seem like he was ready for a treatment plan," she opines, as 'Streaker passes out.

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; cringes, faces flipping around. "...I was afraid he would say such a thing. I will type up my recommendations, but keep in mind, we cannot force him to comply."

Judgement &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; transforms into his Darkness &lt;Apocryphacius&gt; mode.

"You do what you can do for him," Arcee says, "And in the meantime I'm going to make some noise in the higher eschelons of Decagon, to get some answers. I may not have rank, but...I've got connections."

Hound looks down at Sunstreaker a few seconds longer, then over at Apocryphacius. "Thank you for your help, sir," Then, to Arcee, "So what do we do with him now? Want me to stand guard in case...whatever it was hits him again?"

Arcee looks over in surprise as Hound walks in. "Sunstreaker is locked down pretty tight, until Apoc here can get him to agree to a treatment plan," she explains sadly. "What he's been through...you just wouldn't believe it."

You post your note about 'Case File: Sunstreaker' in group 3 (Autobot) as message #191

"Must've been pretty bad. What exactly happened? Do you know what caused it?" Hound asks.

"I am no 'sir'," demurs the Quintesson. "In any case... what Sunstreaker *really* needs is a therapist, not a guard, but I am not sure when Autobot Command will be able to have one reassigned. I would caution against treating Sunstreaker as if he is dangerous. He will likely pick up on the fact that you are treating him oddly and distrust and resent for it. You must keep in mind that he is your friend and ally. What happened to Sunstreaker is... his story to tell, if he chooses to tell it. I need to write up the case file. Excuse me."