"You got it now, Teach! That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Whirl replied enthusiastically. “So what if you’re a fragged-up mess of a mech? If your life’s got to the Pit, you might as well own it. It’s like you said—people are never going to be happy with you, so just frag what they think and do what you want.” He wasn’t referring, specifically, to Blurr when he soke about being a fragged-up mess, but rather just speaking in general terms. Whirl’s optic curved, mirthful. “Heheh. I knew I’d get through to you sooner or later. Guess the teacher can be taught, right?”
Whirl paused to mull over this info. So far he’d only encountered one Wheeljack who was apparently a Wrecker (he hadn’t met the guy, but rather had heard of him through someone else). It was bizarre. Whirl couldn’t imagine Wheeljack as a gun-toting killer… but then again, Perceptor had settled into the role of Wrecker quite nicely, hadn’t he?
As his mind wandered,Blurr’s words caught up to him. Prototype? Slowly, Whirl was putting two and two together. Blurr had been surprisingly lucid and on-point from the moment they’d started their conversation… and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t heard even one maniacal laugh. “Oh.” He blinked to himself, realization striking him like a fist to the back of his head. “You got fixed, didn’t you? Heh, that would explain why you’re finally catching on to my genius advice…”
Whirl gave a chuckling snort. “I didn’t think you could just… just make something to fix someone. Hell, they’ve been working on me for years.”
"Teachers are taught all the time. The best thing about teaching is that you learn things from your students, too. Pits, I thought everyone knew that." He exvented quietly. "Yes, well, if people can’t accept who you are, you should just stick with the people who do. I don’t see the point in all of it, really. They’re all going to end up dead or serving under my Master anyway." Some things never changed.
Wheeljack was an inventor. And engineer, so to speak. Of course, he couldn’t get ideas off the ground unless they were already hoisted up. This meant that he usually stole ideas and made them to his own liking and style. It was a shame, really.
"Your advice is far from genius, Whirl." He lifted a claw to scratch at his helm finial. "It’s supposed to be for me. It was on my table in the labs. It’s a prototype. It’s supposed to substitute for all the things I’m missing that make my impulse hard to control." He frowned. "I wouldn’t say fixed. It’s just temporary. I think…”
"Like I said. Wheeljack stole the idea from somewhere."