#Hexbolt replies

[voidwingsprime]

A message from an unknown and difficult-to-trace sender appears:

//Howd'y thare ..... are yuo hafing a Goode day e ? Pleamse Excuse my interupshoun ..//

Lennox, squints at the message, sighs. And then deletes it. He then adds the address to the spam folder.

"HEY HEXBOLT, YOUR SPAM FILTERS ARE BREAKING AGAIN."

"AUUUUGH, THE FRUMBLES MUST HAVE MESSED WITH IT AGAIN. GIVE ME A SECOND."

[rogue-seeker]

Storyboards for future comic, done for class

Big pic dump under cut.

In which Hexbolt and Silvermaw have one final meeting, before Silvermaw leaves for space. Had to adopt a prose story into a script, then storyboard it.

Original narrative here:

Script not shown to due to personal info attached to it.

first rough storyboards below

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hexbolt

Inspired by my own prompts? Maybe a little bit.

Summary: The former villain Hex makes a desperate choice to escape captivity-- only to realize just what they have gotten into.

CW//Solitary confinement, extreme isolation, attempted self harm, screaming, sensory deprivation, desperation, captivity, crying, syringes, trackers

The cell had been designed for them.

Hex had realized that the moment they’d been thrown in, though the implications hadn’t struck them all at once. The cage was six foot by six foot-- at least, that was how they’d approximated it, considering that when they stretched out, their head touched one wall and their feet brushed the other. It was the same in the vertical direction, giving them enough room to stand, but nothing else.

They weren’t claustrophobic. At the very least, they had been trying to convince themself that they weren’t for the last...

The last...

How long had they been in here?

There was no indication of night or day-- the walls, floor, and ceiling alike were all coated in a thick black rubber, devoid of windows of any sort. Even the single vent had been covered with a thin layer of black, allowing in only the smallest breaths of stale air. The door was the same. They knew there was a door, but it was only visible when open.

Hex had no idea how long their world had been consumed by black. Long enough that whenever the slot on the cell door was opened, it hurt their eyes, making them flinch back.

There were scared of the light, even as it sounded stupid to think about. Well, they weren’t scared of the light. Not exactly. Moreso, they were frightened by its implication.

Light meant attention. It meant that someone had remembered them, here in this hole.

Usually, it only meant this in a minor way: One of the guards had remembered to bring them food, or water. That might have happened on a regular basis, or it might have not. Without light, without human contact, they had no way of knowing. Sometimes, food came. That was all.

Sometimes they would catch a glimpse of a hand, or, even better, a face. Something, anything, to remind them that other humans existed.

They cried, those days. Even as they tried not to think about life before, about life before this little black box, they could not. They only knew the cage.

In a way, they hated just how simple it had been to contain them. With the ability to take hold of technology, escape should have been simple-- a matter of tripping a fire alarm, or, if their captors had been particularly careless, simply opening their own cell door remotely.

But they could not grasp anything beyond a rubber wall, blocking their signals. Their powers had a range, at the moment, of six feet by six feet. There was not so much as a light they could play with.

Only silence and black.

They screamed sometimes. No one heard. Slamming against the walls of their cell did equally little-- the rubber was too flexible to provide any sort of sound or injury.

A stupid little box. That was all it took to contain Hex. They had always thought the League of Heroes to be far too stupid to come up with something restrictive enough, strong enough to keep them contained. But they had. And it was a box.

Did their former foes even remember them? Timeline? Mantas? The Sentinel? Anyone?

Maybe they were dead. Maybe everyone they had known was, passed of old age while they were in this six by six by six foot cube. Perhaps, something in this cell was simply keeping them alive. Prolonging their loneliness.

And no one would ever remember them, ever again.

Hex shifted to a sitting position, back pressed against one of the rubber walls. Which one was lost to them-- they could not see in the dark, and there was no difference between the walls anyways.

They hugged their legs to their chest. When had they become so... thin? Was that it? Or had they simply forgotten what they used to look like? They knew they were getting lost in their own thoughts again, but they couldn’t help it. There was nothing else in here, nothing else to engage with.

If their foes had forgotten them, had their friends? All the other villains? Had their inside jokes turned into wistful memories? Their face a fixture in the background of ancient photographs?

They were crying. Maybe if they shed enough tears, dehydration would take them.

The very thought of it brought a warmth of hope to their chest. It was for the sake of that warmth that they allowed their tears to consume them, running down their face, their neck, their dusty grey prison uniform, until, at long last, their own sobs lulled them to a deeper, unconscious darkness.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   

Hex awoke to light. Hex never awoke to light.

So much light, it burned them, even as they scrambled to cover their eyes. They sputtered, trying to speak, but their attempts were of no use. Instead, they could only wait as their eyes adjusted to the new, blazing inferno before them.

It took far too long, but when they could at last see, their field of vision was filled by a figure, taking up the doorway.

“I asked, are you alive in there?” The idea of a human voice was so horribly unfamiliar, it took Hex a moment to remember what exactly speech was.

“I- I” Their throat was so dry, their words came out as a croak. “What’s going on?”

It was the figure’s next words that made Hex recognize them.

“Guess that’s as good of an answer as any. Long time no see, V-23.”

Why was the Chief here? They were always so busy, so secretive, so...

Why would they care about a forgotten, caged animal?

Their next words were stupid, they knew that, but they needed to know.

“A- Are there any others? Is anyone else still around?”

Uproarious laughter.

“You thought that your friends are anywhere near strong enough to take us out?”

No. They thought age would have taken them.

“I don’t know.” Hex whimpered. Even with the insulting, mocking tone with which they were addressed, they could feel tears beading at the corners of their eyes. Tears of joy, accompanied by a blazing warmth in their chest. “I don’t know.”

“Well, 23, have you enjoyed your stay?”

They were still in the box. They were still- and the door was open. The door was open! They could leave, go, and-

Hex could hardly believe that their legs could still carry their weight. They scrambled to their feet, surging forth, only to be struck.

A hand about their neck, a hand large enough to practically wrap all the way around. It pushed them back, making them fall to their back.

“What?” More laughter. “You thought your sentence was over? You thought you were leaving? Give me a break.”

The tears spilling down their face turned cold. Was their any purpose to this visit besides gloating?

“But, I suppose it’s good to see that you can still walk. Now, you know I’m busy, and I know that I couldn’t care less about you. Trust me, I wouldn’t be looking at your face if I had a choice in the matter. You see, I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?”

“Not that I enjoy dealing with villains, but yes. A deal.”

“A deal.” They repeated.

“Great job, you remember English. Crazy how that works.”

“Shut up.” No. Keep talking, please keep talking.

“Well, you do have that option, believe it or not. Let’s make this very, very simple. You have two choices. First option, I leave you alone. I close this door, and you go back to your little dog crate.”

No. Please no.

“Second option.” There was a horrid, wicked grin to the Chief’s face. “Second option, you switch sides. To put it simply for your little brain, we need a spy. A mole. And you’re just harmless enough to fit that role. You will return to your little friends, and report back.”

Hex felt their heart skip a beat, before beginning to race.

Back home. Back to their friends. More importantly, out of this box. Eating food that could be described as edible, instead of moist blocks of something grey. They could go home, again.

But...

It would mean going against everything. Everyone.

But if they were out of this box, they could do anything. They were sure of that. They could fly, breathe fire, pick up a car, anything, just as soon as they were out of this box. They could escape. Then everything could be like it was before!

And they would never again be placed in a box.

“Yes.” They gasped, exasperated.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll work for you.”

“Good.” The Chief smiled. “Come on, then. We will discuss this further somewhere else. But first, doctor?”

The first figure moved aside, making way for a second, less imposing one, draped in a lab coat. Hex skittered backwards, noting the item in the doctor’s hand-- a sort of broad- tipped syringe. They reached the back of the cell far too quickly.

The doctor stepped forth, and Hex felt their heart lurch to their throat. What did they want? In a moment of unprecedented agility, they darted around them, aiming for the door-- only to be caught in a strangling headlock.

Hex struggled, straining against the Chief’s arm with their hands, but their strength was minuscule compared to that of their captor.

“Where does it go?” The Chief asked gruffly.

“In the neck.” The doctor replied.

They nodded, and Hex felt a second arm wrap about their midsection, holding them still. They could not see the needle being inserted, but they could feel its pinch.

When the Chief finally allowed them to move, they skittered backwards, scratching at the skin that had been pierced. The pinch was only evidenced, now, by the tiniest puncture.

“W-What did you-?” Hex stammered, scratching more forcibly, as though it would remove whatever had been forced beneath their skin. “What did you do?”

The Chief smirked, letting loose a small chuckle.

“Well, we wouldn’t want our little doggy running away, would we? It’s only a tracker. Now, come on. We have a lot to discuss.”

[voidwingsprime]

I see a Megatron is following. Yes?

-Hexbolt

[voidwingsprime]

Racter strode through the darkness with easy confidence behind Koschei, and ahead of Hexbolt and their drones. While he’d taken this route to and from the Heoi terminal many times, he didn’t have to rely on his own innate sense of direction or his memory - Koschei, ahead of him, had the entire route mapped, tiny moonlike reflections from his red optics bouncing off stagnant puddles and the occasional clean patch of metal.

Also, no one in the know from Heoi or its networks would give them any trouble.

“Oh, once upon a time, yes, when I had access to corporate medicine,” he said a little absently. Or it had access to me -. “However, one can’t turn one’s nose up at competent help in the Shadows, regardless of the methodology behind it. And fortunately, Seattle and Gobbet are very competent. And competent in a sphere outside my area of expertise. I may be capable with biotech in a pinch with the right supplies - I was a medic, during my mandatory stint in the army - but none of us would consider going on a run without one of the two. And don’t worry, they’re not too woo-woo about it. Reverence is not exactly something Gobbet holds in high regard. And Seattle is, after all, enough of a pragmatist to have survived this long.”

Koschei froze abruptly enough that Racter almost ran into him, before Racter also froze in alarm. Koschei’s optics all rotated to look at the drone perched on it, and the intricate lenses expanded even further. A disgruntled buzzing sound started up.

Racter made his own disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and very gingerly but very quickly picked up Hexbolt’s drone and lifted it up, holding it with just his fingertips. “Best - best not.”

@evo-corp-dot-aol

“Explain how two shamans are useful in the fie-.”

Hexbolt stiffened as Racter picked up that drone-body of theres. “Okay, drop that part of me. That feels...really weird.Your fingers are sending back tactile feedback to me. And. we. don’t. like. it.”  They gritted out.

The Locust held up by Racter made sad chirring noises. While the rest in Hexbolt’s arms screeched and bared their fangs and squirmed to get out of other body’s grip.

“Calm down!”

[voidwingsprime]

Racter nodded a little stiffly. “One moment, I’ll give Seattle a call.” Which only took a moment - Seattle’s contact was only a gesture away. “- More soykaf?”

spooky_in_seattle: hey, our contact called off for today

spooky_in_seattle: are you there? enjoy your soykaf, buddy.

r: I’ve made contact with a freelancer I would like to suggest we hire. As they are from out of town, I will be escorting them to the boat.

spooky_in_seattle: : ) I’ll make sure madness and folly are off the counters : )

Hexbolt’s human body just nodded as they chugged the cup. Their ears pricked as they heard the entire conversation.

Two of their drones flutter and hover in front of Koschei. “Do you have a name? “

Three more hover in front of Racter. “We’re Hexbolt!”

The one in his hand ended their remarks. “Are we leaving now? Where’s this boat?”

@evo-corp-dot-aol

[voidwingsprime]

SOUP???

“Heated energon with macerated floaters is warm to the fuel-lines and digestive tanks after a long flight out in the cold hurricane winds of a gas giant.” -TC

// “Floaters are a type of xenomech fauna, characterized by inflatable gas-sacs and rubbery tendrils. A form of sky-plankton that Thundercracker’s people are fond of vaccuming up to eat. -Dr. Hexbolt

[voidwingsprime]

“Solves itself,” Racter scoffed gently, trying not to stare too openly at Hexbolt’s human form as his eyebrows knitted together in consternation. Nothing Hexbolt was saying was alien to his own theories - even experience - but yet, but still. “Well. I’ll take that as a good sign for my own experiences sorting themselves out, sooner rather than later.”

And then Hexbolt said something even more surprising. Racter paused for a moment, unsure how to respond politely. “- Speaking from experience, the essence cost you must have paid to interface so extensively with so many drones - I’m not surprised to hear that you haven’t had much interaction with the astral plane.”

He and Koschei will wait politely for the rat to be devoured.

The rat is quickly consumed by the swarm, while Hexbolt just stands to the side, with their human body keeping an eye on their surroundings.

One drone flies in front of Racter, wings buzzing.

“Essence? Our identity never ripped itself apart.”

Hex’s human body just snorts. “Astral plane? The frag does the supernatural have to do with this?”

@evo-corp-dot-aol

[voidwingsprime]

The Status Duel

It’s been a long night and Hex onlines late Tuesday night, they had spent Monday night watching Leverage with the multiversal crowd at Dancitron and then attended a restaurant at New Praxus. It was...enlightening, to see a fully fledged xenomech society, instead of the scrapped remnants of their own timeline.

Hex cracked their backstruts, stretched their neck cables and started working on splicing some Status Duel footage that Specs asked for.

It had been a decade ago, when Soundwave was still fresh out of the Shadow Zone and zir grief at the destruction of zir flock and Lord was raw and bleeding.

And Hex? Well...finding your MIA parent is actually Not Dead?

Rough, extremely rough.

The footage is from Hex’s pov. They are facing a thirty foot tall mirror. It’s in their old satelliteformer frame. The chassis plates are dented and covered in welded scrap metal. There’s slashmarks gouged into their chest and upper arms, all four of them. There’s a bolted on sign saying “BUGS DESTROYED.”

Legs are spiny and digigrade, with  razor sharp prosthetics welded on, the original lower halves long blown off.

Their visor shows a clock ticking down to the duel in red letters.

All of their claws flex in anxiety. They had never fought in a non-lethal duel before against another Xenomech, let alone their adopted parent.  It was always for their life and to avenge the humans harvested.

The next scene cuts to the NEST parking lot. Soundwave stands before them, armor plating polished and shining in the sun. Hex sees their reflection in their adopted parent’s blank visor.  Around them is the hushed crowds of humans in the distance, a painted red circle and Starscream circling both of them.

“Status Duel of Flock Nemesis!” Kha sneers. “What’s left of it anyway.”

“Ex Decepticon TIC Soundwave  vs. Dr. Hexbolt of NEST. To settle Flock Rankings between those two.”

“Due to the mangled frames of both parties and the creator-creation relationship between them...winner will be the one who tosses the other out of the circle! Or to first blood or first destroyed limb. Whatever, comes first.”

Starscream smirks. “Begin!”

The first person pov is extremely shaky.

Hex doesn’t charge at Soundwave. They circle the other mech and both of them merely follow the other, Soundwave is silent, zir pedes hit the concrete but there’s no sound.

Hex’s runner blades scrape against the blacktop. They don’t have their war hammer nor their cannons.

Soundwave slides zir left pede behind zir and moves up zir arm-wings into a defensive stance. Ze beckons a claw.

Hex just stands there, motionless, as they refuse to take the bait.

Zir upper arms slide up, as though to shrug and charges at Hex, zir legs pumping like pistons.

Hexbolt screams, a recorded remixed agony of Humans harvested along with the death keens of insecticon autobots. The crowd of humans cry out in pain. Soundwave falters and Hex dives onto all six limbs and sweeps their razor edged leg blade at the other mech into a low kick.

Soundwave jumps back as the blade misses zir by sheer inches and zir claws dig into the leg. Hex hisses as they are grabbed. All four of their clawed hands slash down at Soundwave.

Metal clangs as Soundwave drops the leg and parries with zir forearm-wing plating.

Hex shoves into zir arm-wings with another uppercut kick and data cables catch the leg and Hex finds themselves flung.

Metal scrapes against concrete as they find themselves tumbling against it.

They pick themselves up and Soundwave just shakes their helm at them.

One spindly digit points at the circle. The red paint is marred with skidmarks from them tumbling along the ground.

Hex swears. “Fuck.”

And then ends the video.

[voidwingsprime]

IC Status - Hexbolt

Hex has a new synthflesh body and is breaking it in on stream.

The new body is getting ink of the Scorpio constellation on the chest. Hex doesn’t blink as the needles buzz.

[voidwingsprime]

"Hiya! I got a new voice! Whatchu think?" And Dial has indeed got a new voice, something perhaps close to a certain clown from a movie they watched recently.

“It’s nice, Harley!” Hex smirks and does a thumbs up at Dial.

[voidwingsprime]

“ A-anyone o-o -out there?”

The livestream is glitchy, and shaky, with poor quality.

Clawed hands grip the camera, and a beat up satellite-former stares into the feed with dragged out ventilations. It’s ragged staticky ventilations is far too fucked up and nonrhythmic to sound mechanical.

“So-ome he-e-elp. ----ndwave fo--o-o und us. Re-st of --twork d-e-estroyed.”

The feed dies.

[voidwingsprime]

"Sometimes war, revolution, is the only and last choice." - Hexbolt

[voidwingsprime]

Oh look, another human having angst over loosing their humanity because they got turned into metal against their will. Tch.

Hexbolt shakes their head and keeps scrolling.

They, a transhumanist, doesn’t have time for this.

Sure, they got forced into remote piloting deceased mecha centuries ago, when humanity was facing extinction in the face, but they didn’t angst over it.

Hard to feel sorry for loss of flesh when your entire species was in danger of being extinguished from forced cyberization of Earth’s entire ecosystem and Autobot invasion.

Feh.

The Jack they knew off died centuries ago. Subsumed into the autobot war machine.

[rogue-seeker]

file: mind conflicted, networked bodies

tw: Starscream being bastard and pushing boundaries, Soundwave being creepy Soundwave, body weirdness

Note: This takes place in the NEST base arc of Rogue Seeker before Skywarp and co. show up. Hexbolt is an OC, an uploaded human mind who inhabits a network of drone bodies and fought against the Autobots in the Invasion three centuries prior.

---

"Fascinating, this plethora of bodies."

Starscream grinned and commented as kha purveyed Dr.Hex's collection of drones with gleaming optics. It wasn’t hard to get into the old workshop, after all Starscream was former SIC of the Decepticons and sparkbonded to khyr ship, The Nemesis,  kha had bypass codes for all of nir chambers.

The Organic Intelligence, Hexbolt and NEST had moved into the ship centuries prior, but their inferior tech hadn’t unlocked most of the locked rooms.  Still, their...occupation was enough that places like this drone workshop now existed.

Kha holographic crest pricked up in interest.

There was the near-human replicant frame, winged and tailed. It was curled in a nest of blankets and pillows on a shelf-loft with human-sized tools, furniture and living quarters with a small kitchenette and a bathing area. It’s breathing was shallow and slow. Starscream took a mild note on the differing scales that the Organic Intelligence used for their differing sized bodies

Tucked away into shelves and cubbies on the shelf-loft was the smaller frames. Kha sneered at the drones in the shape of organic Terran insecticons and fictional ones like the creepy food insecticons from Bugsnax. Artificial birds and small mammals stared at khyr with dead eyes.

On the wall above the sleeping replicant, was the unmoving Kafka-esque drone, in the visage of an Earth roach, its wings crowned with a human face.

Starscream’s holographic feathers flattened against khyr helm in disgust and kha swept khyr holo tail feathers over the roach drone in reflex.

[Starscream: Explain presence.]

Soundwave’s private message burned in the lower right corner of khyr HUD.

Starscream spunned on khyr heel and looked in the darkest corner of the workshop. Ah, there.

Soundwave, keeping sentinel. Zir pigment nanites had shifted to be pitch-black and zir biolights was off. Ze was nothing but a mech-sized silhouette, their visor flashed in the darkness.

[I just need to ask them something, Soundwave. Nothing to worry your pretty helm over.]

Soundwave didn’t reply, but kha could tell they were recording.

Starscream shook khyr helm and turned around. Kha paid zir no heed, let zir go back to being the silent one.

The network was silent, each drone body had empty eyes and dim optics.

Starscream wasn't sure if anyone was home.

Just because the near-human replicant was breathing, didn’t mean there was a mind to pilot it.

Soundwave's presence had a way of ensuring that Hex wasn't around, let alone in what was their private quarters.

There was only one way to find out.

Starscream picked khyr way past several old mechframes, while Soundwave's helm slowly turned to watch khyr movements.

Sitting against the wall was an old familiar drone frame, it leaned against the wall, its four hands clasped in its lap as its legs were outstretched before it.

"Ah, I remember this one. The satellite-former that my darling Skywarp once built, based off that ancient extinct codeline. You used to own this as a drone, Soundwave."

Ze did the barest of nods.

Khyr talons reached out to caress the side of the helm.  Kha remembered Skywarp craving violence and metal to grow that frame.

It's faceless visor flashed and its engines rumbled and its vocalizer crackled.

DESIST

The frame boomed out, sounding exactly like Soundwave when angered.

In the corner, Soundwave's data cable unfurled.

In a flash, the Satellite frame leapt to its feet and slapped the data cable away, its own talons glinted.

DESIST

"Ah, so someone is home!" Starscream smirked, khyr own denta flashed in the dim lighting.

"You're an ass. The hell you want!? I was sleeping." Hexbolt said.

"Ah, is that anyway to speak to your elders? After how I settled the status issues between you and Soundwave here?"

Hexbolt turned on their heel and tilted its helm, EM field tense and tight against their frame.

Starscream just cackled.

"You really are like Soundwave, even moving your helm like zir."

Hex just flexed their claws. " Yeah and without me, you wouldn't even be awake with a working body. I doubt you came here to compare the two of us. What is it?"

Soundwave nodded in approval in the background.

Starscream knelt down and picked up the toaster body from its cubby on the shelf-loft. It warbled in annoyance. "I see this little one's currently connected."

The toaster pouted on its screen.

Its little nubby legs flailed.

Soundwave's data cable snaked its way from zir corner to the back of Starscream's neck, kha could hear the slow spin of its tines whir menacingly.

Heh.

Hex folded their arms, all four of them, and silently watched, the visor had the recording mark. No doubt they were studying the dynamics between khyr and their adopted parent.

Starscream gently ran khyr talons over the toaster body and handed Hexbolt's small drone body to the satellite frame. Handing them back to themself.  The toaster warbled in appreciation at being back with theirself.

Soundwave's threat didn't relent.

Behind a giant isopod body, several fryder drones watched warily. Kha reached out for them and they skittered underneath.

Another data cable reached out, this one aimed for the base of khyr helm, the tines on this data cable spun even faster.

The old satellite frame ex-vented as the toaster body wriggled itself free. It nubbled its way over to Soundwave, who picked it up with gentle spindly digits.

It chirruped happily.

The satellite frame's claws started to crackle.

"Both of you get out. I went to sleep. Alone for a reason." Hexbolt turned to look at Soundwave, both faceless visors stared straight at each other.

The toaster whined sadly.

Both satellite-mech and toaster eyed each other, a silent battle of wills.

Starscream chuckled.

"Mind conflicted, aren't you? A part of you wishes to stay with Soundwave and recharge like a good sparkling, the rest of you is determined to stay independent and free of flock and adopted creator."

Whirring tines started to slow.

Soundwave's grip on the toaster tightened and the toaster nestled in zir grip.

The satellite frame backed away from both of them and turned their back on both of them.

"Out."

The toaster beeped.

"Yes, that includes you!"

Hexbolt's satellite frame looked over their shoulder. "Well?"

Soundwave nodded, and zir data cables withdrew back into zir now glowing frame. Ze picked up the toaster to its helm and it nuzzled the Voidwing's chin.

Soundwave stalked out the doorway, zir e-m field flickered happily.

"Fascinating. With your network, both your wishes came true. Independence and a good snuggle." Starscream laughed.

"I told you to leave."

"Ah, I need a favor of you."

"Right, when you harassed me awake." Starscream purred and khyr tone became silky.

"It's for science."

Hexbolt's turned around and leaned against the wall, arms crossed and right leg planted on the wall behind them. Their faceless helm cocked in interest.

"Okay, you bastard, I'm listening."

"This frame, you built. " Khyr claws swept over khyr frame. "It's flawed."

Hexbolt sagged a little as they hunched over and their most outer two arms tapped their claws against the wall.

"....I'm not surprised. You are the first and only Cybertronian I've tried to revive. My old mech prototypes fell apart, until that modified Thunderbolt jet came together."

Starscream's smirk grew.

Khyr holo tail feathers slowly curled around the once human drone network in front of khyr. The lack of belligerent debate was surprising but welcome. So different then from dealing with Megatron.

"Yes, you see the problem then."

Their faceless visor recorded the hypnotic movement of khyr holo feathers.

"At least that works, eh? I got the holographic feathers down. That took a while."

Starscream tsked. "Actually."

Hexbolt's helm dipped down.

"It's missing a whole spectrum of color, in the UV range. Among others that don't come naturally to your biological cameras."

"...I see. I was guessing from old video and simulations ran on my network. You understand. The few surviving cybertronian appliances  aren't really interviewable."

Starscream nodded. "Still impressive for a species with your limitations. But you know." Kha said, airily.

"It's limiting your communication opportunities. The missing range is a disability. Though....do you even need that to communicate with Soundwave?"  Hexbolt's helm looked straight up at Starscream, it bored into khyr, despite the younger network being half khyr size in that form.

Starscream scowled and khyr holo feathers flashed neon blue, the color of life, energon, and rage.

"No. Zir codeline didn't rely on holographic displays for communication."

The ex-Winglord reached out with a claw and gently tapped on the face-screen.

"This? They used."

Hexbolt raised an arm and pushed away khyr claws as Starscream laughed softly.

Hexbolt straightened their back and looked straight up at Starscream, with that eerie blank face. Unlike Soundwave, they never displayed anything to the adult Cybertronians. Kha had only seen them display to other humans and khyr shared creations with Soundwave. 

"I'll send you some textbooks on human consent and you send me what you need fixed.  Display an understanding of human consent culture and I'll start on your new improved form."

Starscream's optics shuttered.

Hexbolt continued, "Deal? Can't be that hard, Winglord. Just some simple reading you need to get done, while I have to build a whole-"

Starscream scowled. "Please. While your work is quite admirable for your species, I'll still be supervising and giving aid as needed."

"Of course, such supervision and aid doesn't need face tapping. Unless there's some form of cultural meaning, I'm not aware of." Hexbolt looked Starscream up and down. "Now get the fuck out of my workshop, unless you want to know why I survived the Autobot Purges."

Starscream's optics narrowed along with the glowing optics on their holographic feathers.

Khyr crest flattened against khyr helm, streaked with irritated grey. "This will be a fruitful venture, yes? I'm more then happy to let Soundwave know of your progress and emotional state."

Hexbolt stiffened.

"Yes, ze will be quite pleased to know that you agreed to work with me on this." Starscream smiled and slowly sauntered out of the workshop.

The door slid behind khyr as Hexbolt's blank face screen recorded khyr.

-end-

[voidwingsprime]

What do you think is soundwaves favorite human song? Or does he not care? What is YOUR favorite human song? Is it stayin alive by the Bee Gees?

Skywarp face-screen flickers into a

(´･(´･(´･(´･(´･(´･д･`) ･`)･`)･`)･`)･`)

on the video reply.

--

“All ze listens to, earth-wise, is the music that zir um, dead humans liked or made.

It’s pretty depressing. Hexbolt may have mixed some new songs, but, ah don’t think they’ve shown it to zir.

Dunno. ‘Wave always goes silent every time I try to ask. Just stares at me with a blank screen.  ”

Skywarp’s face-screen flickers again into

“This would be a good song to hunt to. If there was anything left to hunt, other then bad-tasting human vehicles.”

Skywarp doesn’t mention how hunting mecha that no one would miss in the multi-verse has been extremely tempting. And sha has done it a few times, usually in war-torn dimensions left in ruins.