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Cogman screwed in the last light onto the wire he had spread across the base’s walls. Behind him, Classic watched. She was baffled by his actions, the way he walked, the tune he was humming.
“So… what is this?” she asked.
Cogman spun around. If he had a mouth he’d be grinning. “I’ve never had such freedom to do this.” He stated, joyfully. “Every bloody year since they invented this holiday!”
“Holiday?” Classic asked as she looked at him, puzzled. “We’re going on holiday?”
“No! This is a human holiday. You know, like how we celebrate Primus day on Cybertron.”
“Primus day? What’ that?”
Cogman flopped down his arms. “Seriously? Did that die with first Primes?”
Classic shrugged. Cogman sighed and rubbed his face with his hand.
“Unicron…” the Headmaster spoke. “Next you’ll be telling me you no longer celebrate Quintesson season.”
“What season?”
“Please stop talking.” Cogman turned back to the work he had finished. “I think I’ve done a bloody good job. Now, I need a tree.”
“You still haven’t told me what this holiday is.” Classic spat, folding her arms.
“Oh right. Christmas is a holiday where humans pretend they like each other for a few hours. They put up trees and sing about this fat bastard who commits break and entering crimes. It’s fun.”
Classic widened an eye. “Fun? Sounds kinda scary. Does this person break into everyone’s house?”
“Yes. Santa is a god that lurks over this planet from what I’ve heard. He has the ability to travel across a planet in one rotation. He can enter a building no matter its defences; then he leaves a gift.”
“Gift?”
“Yes. He leaves you what he feels you deserve.”
“Shit.” Classic gasped as she began to shake herself, hastily. “We should start increasing this base’s defences! I’ll get Fracture to install a turret, or perhaps Counterpunch could fly us back into space for the time being. We should alert Cyclonus immediately!”
“He’s not real, Classic. Santa was made up by humans to sell coke.” Cogman stated.
“Oh.”
Cogman shook his head before continuing to admire his work. Classic hunched forward. She looked at the last wire that the headmaster had put up; Cogman noticed.
“You like them?” he asked.
Classic looked back at him. “They’re… unique. Cogman, you said Santa leaves gifts. But if he’s not real, how would the humans get them?”
“They give them to each other. But they pretend he got them; it’s fun.”
Classic stroked her chin. “I see.”
On the roof of the tunnel that led into the base, Cyclonus watched over the ocean. The icebergs shined in the distance. Cyclonus smiled, taking in the beauty of it all.
Suddenly, he saw the American Flying Fortress, flying in his general direction. The plane transformed before him. Its wings converted into arms, its back converted into legs, its front converted into a chest while the other parts formatted a head. The brute stood above Cyclonus, he looked down at the purple Crusadercon.
The giant looked restless. “You should get back inside. I’m lowering the tube tonight.” Sky-byte spoke, raspy.
“Why’s that?” asked a now bitter Cyclonus.
“I’ve seen cruisers heading over here. they’ve got lights all over them, they’ll easily spot us in the dark!”
“Why are these ships strapping lights to themselves?”
“I don’t know, I think it’s a ritual.” Sky-byte panicked, slightly. “I know these humans have gods; they must be summoning one! It’s probably that sea one, what’s his name?”
“Poseidon?”
“Dagon, I think.”
Cyclonus sighed as he slapped his own forehead. “Sky-byte, for someone who claims to be fond of this planet, you really are ignorant to its cultures.”
“I’m not ignorant!” Sky-byte snapped. “I have spent countless hours learning as much as I can without attending a human school!”
Cyclonus then grinned. “Sky-byte. You are very ignorant. You’re ignorant of a lot of things.”
Sky-byte folded his arms. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
Cyclonus chucked, thinking of the ex-Autobot that would be awaiting him downstairs. “You’ll understand eventually. I know I did.”
Sky-byte was puzzled, the face that Cyclonus was making was making the ex-Decepticon brute feel insecure. He started to panic a little more inside. Cyclonus was confusing him and he did not like it.
The ex-Decepticon began to scratch the back of his head “Can we not be all metaphorical? I’m not as smart as you.”
“I don’t think that made sense, Sky-byte. Listen, I’m sure these boats will just float by.”
“I’m only asking we lower the tube for a few hours. What’s so great about watching ice cubes?”
Cyclonus huffed. “You really need to learn to appreciate the land you see around you, my friend. The sea here is a shimmering sight, it is a symbol of this planet’s life. Every organic runs on water, humans would not survive without it, yet they can also overdose on it. It is fascinating.”
Sky-byte looked at the Crusadercon, dumbfounded. “Since when did you care about any this?”
“I always have had a fascination with those outside of Cybertron. Tailgate used to show me his discoveries about other worlds, his enthusiasm was contagious.”
“Wait.” Sky-byte said, attentive. “Who’s Tailgate? Was he a Crusadercon or something?”
Cyclonus froze, realising what he had just revealed. “He was… someone I knew. Enough of this. Let’s close the tube; I’ll be on my way down.”
The Crusadercon hurried to the elevator and activated it. Sky-byte shrugged.
Late Term awoke to the sound of jazz playing from across her room. It was loud, too loud. The ex-Autobot begrudgingly rose from her bed and clumsily walked to the hall. She followed the noise, reaching the main area where the ships would land, and the elevator led to. She saw Cogman dangling from the ceiling, he was on a star that was hanging there.
“Late Term!” he yelled. “Good to see you awake. I’m about to send Jetfire to get us a tree. I need someone to help me set it up.”
Late Term stared blankly at the headmaster. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We’re setting up a Christmas tree. Jetfire said he’d find a big one. One of those Scandinavian ones, probably.” Cogman spoke, gleefully.
“Christmas? Who’s Chris?” she replied, dumbfounded, yet still only half awake.
“It’s a human holiday, Late Term. Originally created by the old pagans, it’s about gifts and stuff.”
“But who’s Chris?”
“There is no Chris.” Cogman’s bright tone lowered. “It’s just called Christmas because the Christians stole the holiday from them at one point, I try to ignore that part. Anyone who plays God rest ye in this base will be shot!”
“Right.” Late Term let out a grunt, she was done asking questions about Cogman’s tendencies at this point. “So, what are we supposed to do during this… holiday?”
“Buy people gifts, I suppose. We also sing and… put lights on bushes.”
“Gifts? Do we have to buy everyone a gift?” Late Term panicked. Despite the time that had passed since Cyclonus’ arrival, she still barley knew him or his crew.
“No.” Cogman assured. “Just those we care for deeply.” The two were silent for a moment, then he continued. “So… why don’t you get Sky-byte a gift?”
Late Term’s eyes widened. “W-what? I mean- this holiday… I don’t think it’s my thing.”
She was not amused by the dead eyes that Cogman suddenly gave her. Late Term groaned and looked away, but quickly looked back.
“What?” she said, not appreciating the glare.
“Look. I’m not saying you need to spend your entire livestock and get him Unicron’s body. I’m just… recommending, that you… get him something nice. Like… a fish, or the finest human poetry.”
“Yeah… no. I don’t think he’ll be bothered.” Late Term turned and walked away. As she did, she heard Cogman speak.
“But what if he does?” Cogman asked before he saw her stop mid-step. “He might be really upset about it. I mean, imagine, somebody else gets him a gift with such meaning. Whoever that person is will be viewed highly by him, that’s for sure.”
“I doubt anyone here will be that invested.” Late Term replied as he eyes remained glue to the wall in front of her.
“Maybe not.” Cogman continued, almost mockingly. “But that does not matter. You need to get into the spirit of things! But I suppose it doesn’t matter really. Maybe Fracture will get him something.”
Late Term shot him a look of pure dread. Anger filled her eyes as they turned red; she was not taking that comment lightly. “W- why- why would Fracture get him anything? She- she would be more in line to get herself one.”
Cogman jumped off the hanging star and landed on his feet. “I don’t know,” he said, snidely, “she might want to show how much she appreciates his landlordship. She tells me she enjoys it here, I bet she’d like to show it somehow.”
Late Term let out a slight stutter. “That- that doesn’t mean she’ll get him anything! Come on, Cogman. You’re acting like Sky-byte cares about materialised items. All he cares about is what people think of hi- oh.” Late Term let out a deep breath. “Alright. Fine. What does he like?”
At that moment, Sky-byte appeared out of the elevator close by. Late Term immediately looked away, pretending she was rubbing her eyes after just waking up. Once the ex-Autobot heard Sky-byte stand next to her, she suddenly felt tense, though she was not sure why.
“Afternoon, Cogman, what are you up to?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ve just finished decorating. What do you think?”
“Seems nice. This Christmas thing you’ve got going, I like it. Keep at it.”
Late Term slowly turned her head to the ex-Decepticon, the look of him smiling brought her an odd feeling, it was nice. “Hi.” Late Term spoke, quicky.
Sky-byte turned to her. “Hello. What do you think of this holiday?”
“It’s- nice. I don’t know. What do you think of it?”
“It’s… interesting. I like the colours. I think I need to look more into it though, see more about how it works.”
“It’s not a complexed tradition, my lord.” Cogman interjected. “You just give each other gifts and sing about snow…”
“Snow? There’s a lot of that around here at the moment.” The Decepticon specified.
“That’s because it’s winter, Sky-byte.” Late Term stated as she smirked.
“Right. Oh, what if I go out and get some? There’s a lot up in Norway. I could decorate the base in it.”
“I think that would melt.” Cogman replied. “But if you want, go to Norway and grab one of those triangle shaped trees. We need one.”
“Can I come?” The three turned and saw Classic stood behind them.
“Why not?” Responded Cogman, not paying too much attention. “Sky-byte, take Classic with you to Norway, you know where that is. It might take a few to carry it but Jetfire has already agreed to get one so he’ll take you there.
Stood at the other end of the room, Cyclonus admired the decorations that the headmaster had set up. it reminded him of a set he saw many thousands of years ago.
The Lifespark flew across the cities on the final day of Cybertron, watching as Autobots attempted to climb to the city’s towers. One by one, they were shot off by turrets and Starscream’s flying legion.
From the cockpit, Counterpunch piloted the ship while Cyclonus stood next to him.
“Should we help?” the pilot asked
“No.” Cyclonus clarified. “We have no orders. Starscream has this under control.”
The door behind them slid open, Teal Bolt made his way though. “Cyclonus,” he said, “Tailgate is… doing something. I’m not sure how to describe it; he’s shoving these lights across the control room.”
“What?!” the Crusadercon leader growled.
Cyclonus stormed past the Megatron-lookalike and continued from the bridge and into the control room. As the Crusadercon stepped in, he was hit with a wave of light from many different colours wrapped around the cylinder in the centre of the room. On each wall, there was a cube fitted, each beaming a different colour that shined like a star. Abruptly, he saw Tailgate, he was carrying more lights when he noticed the purple Decepticon and placed them down.
“Oh, Cyclonus. How’s everything going for you?” the little one asked. His voice was joyful and optimistic, despite the look of shock emitting from Cyclonus’ face.
“What… what have you done this place?” he said, faintly.
“Oh. This room was just so black and… dull. I thought I should add something to it, y’know?”
Cyclonus rubbed his forehead. “It… looks beautiful, but- it’s not appropriate for this line of work.”
Tailgate lowered his head. “Oh.” His gleeful tone left him, replaced with that of regret. “I’m sorry, Cyclonus, I didn’t mean to ruin anything. I just- I thought- oh Primus.”
The little one started to panic; Cyclonus quickly approached him and crouched.
“Hey. It’s fine.” Cyclonus spoke, softly. “I appreciate it. it’s just… Megatron might not approve. Please understand.”
“It’s fine. I understand. Megatron is high authority. I would hate to ruin the relationship you two have.” Tailgate replied.
“That’s… not how I’d describe it. He’s my boss. He visits sometimes, but he’s not what you’d call my friend.”
“Are… are we friends?”
Cyclonus hesitated. “Of- of course, yes. You know that.”
Tailgate giggled. “Yes. But I like to be told.”
The two looked at one another, Cyclonus’ face remained concerned; Tailgate’s face did not show much emotion since he did not have a mouth. Then, Cyclonus slowly pulled himself up and looked around at the diorama made before him.
“It is pleasant. Perhaps we could put these in a less… essential room.”
Tailgate raised his eyes to Cyclonus. “I- I’ll think about it. You should get back to your squad. I’ll take this down.”
Cyclonus sighed. “Not now. Wait till-”
The Crusadercon was cut off by the sound of someone blowtorching a hole into the ship’s wall. Suddenly, a shape flew across and collided with Tailgate, knocking him to the ground.
Cyclonus’s eyes and mouth widened, he then turned to the hole and watched as a jetpack-mounted Autobot began to board.
Sky-byte flew across the snowy field of Norway in his Flying Fortress form, while followed by Jetfire and Classic in their Beufighter and FW190 forms, respectively.
They transformed and landed in front of a collage of trees. Sky-byte stepped forward.
“This seems to be what he wants.” He analysed the trees. They were an odd shape, definitely not ones he’d seen before.
“How would he decorate this?” asked Classic, bewilderedly.
“Humans put lights around the slopes.” Jetfire explained.
“What’s the sense in that?” the Crusadercon pressed.
“They look good when it’s done.”
As the two talked, Sky-byte continued through the forest, he scanned each tree, giving an internal review of each one. The ex-Decepticon was being selective. He wanted to know when he had the right tree, no matter how long it took. Cogman had been doing way too much for him and he needed to do such back.
Classic watched the grunt stare at the trees. Concerned that the grunt was losing his mind, she picked up a heap of snow and launched it. The snow impacted Sky-byte’s face, directly. He did not fall; he simply turned his head and gave her dead eyes.
“What?!” she said, surprised at his response. “If Late Term had done that, you’d be laughing.”
Sky-byte’s eyes widened, and he gave her a defensive look. “I’d have you know; I’d be giving this response to anyone who did that.”
Jetfire crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Really? I think if she’d thrown it, you would have tackled her to the ground by now.”
Classic snicked, but Sky-byte was not amused.
“Aren’t you going to get her a gift?” Jetfire then asked.
“What?” the ex-Decepticon replied. “What for?”
Jetfire groaned. “Have you not been paying attention? The whole point of Christmas is to give gifts to one another.”
“Well… I don’t know.” Sky-byte began to intensely scratch the back of his head. “I doubt she’s got me anything.”
“So?!” yelled Classic.
“How does that make a difference?” asked Jetfire.
Sky-byte stumbled back. He murmured. “If she’s not… into the holiday, then… getting her a gift would be forcing it on her.”
Sky-byte was not comfortable with how this conversation was going. He just wanted the tree like Cogman asked. Besides, these two had no right in dictating how he wanted to celebrate this human holiday. Why would Late Term need a gift anyway? The only object she ever needed was a canister of diesel, and the drunk had more than enough of that.
The other two walked around him. Classic rested her elbow on a tree while Jetfire stood behind the ex-Decepticon brute, crossing his arms.
“Don’t talk such shit.” Classic spat. “Whether or not she gets you anything is completely irrelevant. You getting her a gift should be thoughtful enough to where it should not matter what she does. It’s the thought, Sky-byte! The thought!”
“And what would I get her?” the brute shot back. “I don’t know what I can get on this planet.”
“You could get her the Matrix.” Jetfire joked.
Sky-byte sighed. “I don’t know. I just don’t think I’d be able to find the right gift.”
Jetfire stomped forward, he kicked a close by tree, straight out of its socket.
“Oh, don’t give me that bollocks. The day I met her, she spent the whole journey to your old cave, talking about you, and only you. Even when she tried to change the subject, it went back to you. First, she tells me about her old gun collection, then she tells me how much she wants to use them on you. Then, she starts talking about why she’s here, but then forgets that because she’s too busy telling me how you both met. She then went on about every single quirk she’d noticed you do since landing. If she can talk about you that much, then you can do the same to her. There is no doubt in my mind that you know more than enough about her to know what she likes. Out of all of us, you should be the one to get her the most appropriate gift.”
Sky-byte pressed his hands against the sides of his head. This conversation was irritating him way more than it should. “I- I don’t know. I honestly… don’t know what to get her.”
“Come one, Sky-byte. Think!” hollered Classic. “What does she like? What’s she into? Apart from you I mean.”
Sky-bye calmed down for a moment and thought. He thought deeply about who Late Term was, the person he’d got to know throughout this last Earth rotation.
“She likes… getting drunk. She likes artifacts, like really ancient ones. She also likes… money I suppose. She had done a few jobs before arriving here. She was in serious debt with the Maximals.”
“You’re not going to find some rare coin around here.” Jetfire commented.
“I know.” Sky-byte sighed. “Look, I appreciate that you guys are looking out for me and all- but- I don’t think this is necessary.”
“It’s extremely necessary.” Classic interjected, waling her arms up and down. “She’s always there for you. You’re the only one here she seems to really like. I know she’ll get you a gift, so you better get her one or I’ll punch out every tooth in your head!”
Sky-byte huffed. He hated how accurate she was. “You’re- you’re right. She is there for me, and I do need show her my gratitude. I need to show her how much I care.” As he spoke, a grin formed. “I’ll get her something, something she will cherish. It will be a staple of what we are; of what we have made.”
Classic grinned in response. “That’s sweet. You two really do deserve one another.”
Sky-byte smiled, he then returned to the trees. “I know. We really are such good friends, aren’t we?”
Sky-byte did not notice the palms that collided with his companion’s faces at that response.
Cyclonus ran to the downed Tailgate. In a panic, he pulled the rubble off the little one, completely ignoring the Autobot that had entered the ship.
In his struggle, he abruptly felt something bludgeon against the back of his head, knocking him forward. But the Crusadercon ignored it. It didn’t matter how much he took, how close to death it might put him, it did not matter. Cyclonus focused on the piece of the ship that laid on top of Tailgate. With all his might pulled it off, ripping his hands apart as he did.
The chunk slammed against the wall. This was followed by Cyclonus taking a hammer to the face from the invading Autobot. Cyclonus collided with the wall and slid down. As energon spurted from his mouth, he heard Tailgate yell for him. But he could not see; his vision had blurred from the impact.
All Cyclonus could see was a distortion of Tailgate standing; from the look of things, it seemed like the defenceless little one was preparing to defend him. This would not stand.
Cyclonus painfully pushed himself back up and clenched his fists. He posed himself, defensively, and though the Autobot attacking was just a blur, he managed to dodge its next swing.
The Crusadercon raised his wings to shield him from the next few swings. As he did so, he noticed Tailgate eject wires from his wrists, the little one attempted to launch them at the Autobot but Cyclonus yelled his name. Tailgate seemed to look at him and stop, however, this also distracted the Autobot. Cyclonus took his chance. He lunged onto the Autobot and snatched the hammer from their hands before whacking onto the top of their head.
The Autobot stepped back before elbowing Cyclonus in the gut. He fell back. To his left, he saw the lights that Tailgate has set up, without much fought, he grabbed the lights and whipped the Autobot down. Swiftly, he then swung the hammer once more, killing the Autobot where it lay.
As his vison slowly began to return, Cyclonus reached for his comms. “Counterpunch, raise the ship! A breach has transpired in the control room!”
“On it.”
Cyclonus felt the ship rise as he began to see clearly. Below him, he saw Tailgate, and though he could not be that expressive, Cyclonus knew Tailgate was horrified. Calmly, he approached and crouched down.
“Are you alright?” the purple one asked, tensely.
Tailgate breathed in an out. “I’m fine. Your eyes!” he screamed, as sparks flashed before him.
“It’s fine.” Cyclonus assured.
“It’s not fine! Your eyes are malfunctioning under code: four-seven-two. That requires a selective energon to heal properly.”
“Tailgate.”
“I’ll have to do some checks on them. I can’t have them turning off during a mission.”
“Tailgate.”
“We should dock on a less hostile spot. I’ll send a request on the right the tools in advance.”
“Tailgate! I’m fine. My eyes will work. I can already make out your face quite well. Not that I’d have a hard time doing that.”
At that moment, Cyclonus rose and adjusted himself accordingly in response to the doors sliding open. With his vison recovering, he recognised Classic and Nightstick enter.
“What happened here?” asked Classic.
“We were boarded.” Cyclonus replied, firmly.
“Looks like Unicron’s oil bath in here.” Nightstick commented. “We’ll need to clean this place up.”
“We shall.” Cyclonus responded. “But… make sure the lights are reinstalled properly.”
“You want us to keep them up?” replied Fracture, widening an eye.
Cyclonus smiled. “Yes. For a time.”
Though he could not see it, Cyclonus could hear the giddiness eradiating from Tailgate next to him. He walked out, leaving Nightstick to help Tailgate clean. Classic followed.
“You really love him, don’t you?” she said.
“I don’t have time for those feelings.” Cyclonus replied, looking away while keeping himself in a calm demeanour. “You should help them.”
“Oh, I will. We’ll make sure to ask him the right questions.”
“Actually, on second thought, you stay with me. I need someone to proofread my next report.”
“Sure…”
As he watched Cogman set up a the newly delivered tree, Cyclonus sat around a fire that he had set up with his group as well as Jetfire. Classic had put a torch under her face.
“I don’t think this is part of Christmas.” Jetfire commented.
“Nonsense.” Classic replied. “I must tell this terrifying tale of a ship full of Megatron clones, and of course, the evil clone of Optimus: Ooptimus!”
Cyclonus and Jetfire immediately got up and walked away, leaving her to share her insanity with the others.
“These lights,” Cyclonus spoke, “they remind me of Cybertron’s final day. Someone I know put up similar one’s in my ship.”
“Really?” asked Jetfire. “Which one is he?”
Cyclonus bit his lip. “He’s… not here.”
“Oh… oh! Nice one. Is he… alive?”
Cyclonus shrugged. “I hope so. I don’t like to think something bad happened to him. I… miss him.”
“Did you two… become official?” Jetfire asked, awkwardly.
“Yes.” Cyclonus chuckled. “Eventually. Took us a while. I… I think Megatron knew… knew what was going on. We got together after Megatron went missing, but… I think he saw it.”
“That’s nice. Megatron’s more progressive than the people of this planet.”
Cyclonus turned to Jetfire, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s… not talk about it. You’ll understand what I mean once Sky-byte lets you out again.”
On the roof, Sky-byte sat. He was not sure how this was going to go down, but he had high hopes. The thoughts went in and out of his head. He felt like he might screw this up. If he were optimistic, it would go wrong, that’s how it always went. Sky-byte just hoped he would not be ridiculed for what he was about to do.
“You wanted to see me?”
Sky-byte looked up and saw Late Term looking down at him. She had a box.
“Y-yes,” he replied, awkwardly, “I wanted to… sit.”
“What?”
“Sit down… please.”
She sat, and the two looked at the moon.
“Can you imagine if Cybertron had a moon?” said Late Term.
“It would be odd; it would also make our days longer. Weird.” He replied, inelegantly.
There was a moment of silence; then Sky-byte spoke.
“I- I got you something. I… know it’s not much but… it’s this planet’s tradition and all. I thought- I thought it made sense. Like if I did not give you something, it would be rude, but if I did get you something it might be weird. I’m sorry, what I mean is I got you something, yes, I got you something!”
Late Term looked at the brute, puzzled. “You… got me something?”
The ex-Autobot was now flabbergasted.
“I… yes.” Sky-byte reached into his compartment and pulled out a canister of some kind. “You always have that diesel… and I thought it would be- suitable if you had a container to carry some round with you. I made it out of some spare parts and moulded it together with adhesive. It’s not much but… I’m sorry; this was dumb.”
The ex-Decepticon turned his head away, scared of what her face may show.
Late Term placed her hand on his arm before taking the canister with her other. “This is… beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Sky-byte turned his head to face her; she was smiling. He could not believe that she was smiling. Late Term’s face beamed pure happiness, not something he saw very often.
“I- I got you something too…” she said.
Sky-byte watched as she opened the box, revealing some sort of ball. Sky-byte took the ball and felt it; it was squishy.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s a stress ball. You squeeze it; it can calm you down. Humans have them; I got Cogman to get me the right materials so it would fit you.”
Sky-byte looked down in disbelief. He squished it in his hand. “Thank you. I love it.”
Slowly, Late Term slid down and rested her head on the brute’s shoulder. The two continued to watch the sky. In the distance, Sky-byte saw human vessels light up. He no longer felt the need to lower the roof down. If they ended up seeing him, it would be worth it so the moment can last.
Later, Sky-byte woke to find himself and his friend wrapped up in wires. He yelled, waking Late Term up. the two had been tied together, tight enough that neither could move their arms.
“What the-” questioned Sky-byte.
They two looked up and saw Cogman and Classic, smirking with their arms crossed.
“What’s the point?!” yelled Late Term.
“We couldn’t resist.” Classic stated, holding in laughter.
“It was too easy.” Cogman added.
“Funny. Now let us out!” roared a now angered Sky-byte.
Classic and Cogman laughed and walked away, leaving the two to get out themselves.
“It’s not… that bad.” Late Term commented.