The Voice Won't Go Away - A Transformers Prime Fanfiction

It's getting annoyingly scary

The voice was back. Mumbling still. It would say a word that Prime could hear every once in a while. Just a random word. Some words that not many people know about, maybe!

But it distracted him. A lot.

Typing away at his personal datapad, trying to type normally, but his processor traced towards the voice. He didn't remember much of what he was typing to begin with, probably a report, or his own personal 'diary', or some random message to not a single soul or spark in particular. But soon, he began to type the words he'd hear from this voice, maybe he'd try and make sense of what it was saying, but his report slowly turned into a mix of words; Good Coal Queer Tune Phone Seventeen Lily Vanquish Ban Montana Wizard Joke Banana- You get the point. It made no sense. And it went on for... what was literal hours of typing random words. Unfazed by what he was typing. Then it seemingly got... cryptic. Mood Moody Murder Kill Knife Blood Energon Helm Destroy- He snapped out of it once he noticed. The voice vanished immediately, and he stared down at the text he made. Words filled the blue, glowing screen in an almost orderly but messy pattern, you'd have the word Win next to Psychology, with Kill next to Nuts? It was concerning. He scrolled up for five minutes and he was only a quarter of the way back up through this mess of text. He kept scrolling, his optics widening as he realized he might have a serious issue from just how long this random typing droned on. He finally got to the top, and he'd only written a few lines of actual report. He deleted the entire file altogether, rubbing his helm in confusion.

He layed down on his berth, turning on the light, and pondering the complications of his issue. This already seemed serious. Maybe it could distract him like it just did, to a point of loosing focus. Maybe if he was trying to listen to someone like Ratchet or Fowler, he'd have heard nothing due to the voice distracting him constantly. Maybe during a fight, it would knock his senses off their hinges, and he'd be overthrown by his opponent, just trying to stop the voice so he could focus on not dying.

That last thought was scary. He thought about consulting Ratchet, but he doubted the old medic would believe that he was hearing voices. He's a field medic, not a therapist. His final decision was that unless it nearly got someone killed, he'd consult Ratchet, but for now, he'd try to ride out the storm of chaos that he was unknowing about to get thrown into by just making the consecutive decision not to consult Ratchet, unless someones life was dragged away from the horrid distraction that was his own sanity slipping away, without him even knowing it was happening.

Before he knew it, he was in recharge, not even the Prime could predict what would happen tomorrow, his worst fears realized.

(508 words. I tried to drag it on a little longer to get more words out I'm SORRY-)