Beeps and Buzzes

⚔️ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6

　　　

“Cogman, the last Hunting Scene is missing. Did you break it?”

“I have been a butler to the Aristocracy for the past seven hundred years, you are the worst I've ever worked for”

English manors seem to always share a few common traits, it seems; there must always be some kind of trophy (weapon or otherwise), highly polished floorboards and an obnoxious amount of classical paintings nailed to every readily available wall like a private art gallery.

Painted eyes judged your pitiful existence with each and every step, figures donning impressive wigs to men holding shotguns stood over a Stags corpse basking in the afterglow of a good hunt. There were a fair few other stereotypical paintings, one of many being a depiction of a serene lakeside, however what truly piqued your interest was how much Transformers memorabilia had been stuffed into one space.

Especially somewhere trapped in the Victorian period.

Undeterred by everybody else's astute silence caused by the brewing tension triggered by Cade and Vivian, something possibly stirred up by stress of all varieties hence why you weren't going to think too hard on it. Your fluctuating civility with Cogman made walking near him hazardous, keenly aware of there being a high probability things will turn to fisticuffs should he even breath on you.

Meanwhile, Edmund contentedly lectured you all on his fascinating family history. Treating this like some obscure get together of mutual parties, showing no agency towards matters.

“These are all my predecessors, they're all Forgans. That's my great, great, great auntie there. Polished my great, great, great uncle for some reason. She's barking mad, she's an absolute bitch; my Grandfather over there, Aloysius, and that's my third cousin Arnold. He drunk sewage water for some reason, committed suicide, he was quite mad - we're all mad, really”

Drawn towards a cast iron statuette depicting a lone Cybertronian sentinel, hands laid firmly atop the sword's hilt staring seriously ahead. Bending down for closer examination, head tilted, uttering a confused ‘huh’ at how uncannily similar to Optimus Prime this model was. You knew it to be impossible as, when compared to others, the infallible leader hadn't been on Earth that long.

Not long enough to result in sculptures, anyhow. 3D printing, though, definitely. You'd seen some hand sculpted action figures on Ebay once.

“-- That was the watch that killed Hitler. Don't screw with it”

Totally normal thing to have in your possession.

Your brain scrubbed away the strangeness of Edmund’s statement at record speed, no longer inspecting the vast assortment of Transformers memorabilia and focusing more so on this tiny means of assassination. Trudging over, tracking each tiny bullet hole, raising a hand atop the bell jar watching as the disturbed critter began chittering away in a highly complex spectrum of Cybertronian.

What cruel things it was saying completely skipped your notice, too squeaky and warped to translate. Its bullets, hissing and vicious shaking overall painted a better picture of this creature's mindset.

Acting more on a whim than anything, following some half brained idea that it might just be starved and cranky hence why it was so irritable, lowered a finger to the base of this makeshift case and expelled a shock of Energon. Expression adopting uneasy undertones as it wheezed, slackened, lost all self control and proceeded to exist in a half transformed state.

That's… not what you expected, but okay. Cool. Awesome. Not that you'd been expecting anything, really, backing off and pretending you hadn't interfered with its strange little existence.