#he's been a prime for all of what an orn? a little more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silkling · 3 years

Note

I have the weird headcanon that TFRB Cody could adopt Lazerbeak brother, Buzzsaw. I haven't read a lot of TF comics so I don't know he's current status, still I always saw Cody as a typical animal owner, and I think it would be kind of cute too. Could you write some scenes of theme meeting and become friends

Come Home to Roost

Buzzsaw was tired. He was so, so tired. He missed Soundwave. He missed Laserbeak. Pit damn it, he also missed the those infernal twins and that Pit-spawned cat. They had been family for so long. Had been home. It had been them that he returned to every night to roost. It had been them that he had built his nest among. It had been them that he had come to call flock.

Now though…how could they be flock, when they had left him behind? Even his sister had left. He had thought Soundwave cared more than that. Apparently not, though. It had been a miracle that he’d made it off Centauri-12 after being abandoned. But he had, and he’d wandered the cosmos, stowing away on any ship he could find. He didn’t know what his goal was. To survive, he supposed. Find a new roost, though knowing how Primus had abandoned him thus far in his life, he doubted their “benevolent” Creator would have such kindness to direct towards him.

And perhaps he should not be surprised, really. He had been one of Soundwave’s most vicious Cassettes, after Ravage. But was that really something to be punished? He had had to be vicious. His sister had refused to be, and before Soundwave that meant he’d had to step up to keep her safe, to keep them both safe. Cybertron had not been kind to Cassettes, after all. Under Functionism, Cassettes had been viewed as little more than slaves, pets, property. He’d had to be vicious, then. It had been the only way they’d kept their lives, kept their freedom. After Soundwave, he’d had to continue to be vicious. Whereas Laserbeak had been the Host’s spy, Buzzsaw had been the attacker from above. Where Ravage had killed and torn from the ground, Buzzsaw had swooped in and brought death from the skies. After Soundwave, he’d been vicious because his new Host had needed him to be a protector still. And with Soundwave there had been Megatron, and he’d gone from protector to soldier.

Now though…now he wasn’t much of anything. Left behind on an uninhabited world that had drawn the War to it due to its energon mines, forgotten by the very one who had vowed to shelter and care for him, by his kin, by the family had come to call his own. He didn’t even feel them over the bond they’d shared anymore. They’d known he was alive when they’d left Centauri-12. He knew they had, the bond had told him as much. But they’d left anyway. And so he’d broken it. It had almost killed him. Cassettes were hard-coded for loyalty. It was part of their very core. To break the bond when he’d sworn his loyalty to Soundwave….it had made his spark burn with agony. But what other choice had he had? They’d left him behind, cast him aside, and left him with nothing.

He’d had to hitch a ride in the Autobot ship, which had left the planet later then his former allies. He’d been discovered when they’d landed again, and had had to flee. He’d continued like that, going from ship to ship, Neutral, Autobot, and even Decepticon, always fleeing when he was found. He’d even hidden away on the ships of organic species. It seemed his luck had finally run out, though. He’d been on the ship of a species called the Kaminoans, but after they’d found and attempted to capture him he’d been forced to flee into the vast expanse of space. It had almost killed him. He wasn’t space-faring. His armor couldn’t stand the pressure for long. Thankfully, his long-range sensors had detected a habitable planet in the nearest star system, and he’d fled as fast as his tired, starved frame could take him. The Kaminoans hadn’t given chase.

He remembered his first view of the planet. It was blue, with large green landmasses. Then he’d breached the atmosphere, and his systems hadn’t been able to handle the stress. He’d offlined, and come to surrounded by some sort of extremely salty liquid. He hadn’t been able to fly, and had had to go on foot, hoping to make his way to land. He didn’t want to rust on the floor of some massive salty pool of liquid. So he’d forced himself to move, and eventually he’d dragged himself onto some tiny, rocky shore. He’d only had the energy to cast out his sensors for one look around, enough to realize he had dragged himself onto some sort of island, and then his systems had dragged him into an emergency shutdown.

Blissfully, Buzzsaw knew no more.

——————————

When his systems pulled him from his forced recharge, Buzzsaw knew he was in trouble. His optics onlined with a dull glow, and his focused briefly on his HUD, taking in the messages flitting across it. After a moment, he chuffed and forced himself to stand. His self-repair had healed just enough damage to drag him from the edge of a stasis lock, but then the system had shut down in response to low energon. He was at 15% right now, which meant he had the rest of this orn to find fuel before his frame went into emergency stasis. After that..it would be too late for him.

The only way for a Cybertronian to be pulled out of emergency stasis was for another bot to fuel them enough that their systems kicked back online. Otherwise, the stasis would keep the bot in question under, only the bare essential systems running in order to keep the spark alight. Eventually, even those would give out, and the bot would die. Buzzsaw had heard claims that it was a peaceful way to go. That after entering stasis, you wouldn’t be aware of anything, which meant death was just like slipping under. You wouldn’t actually feel pain, wouldn’t feel your spark gutter.

Personally, Buzzsaw didn’t believe that. He thought dying like that was frightening. How could it not be? Feeling your systems fail and shut down, one by one, until you didn’t even have the strength to vent on your own. Your frame shutting down slowly, a klick at a time, until your awareness and consciousness was the last to go, but able to feel each and every one of your non-vital systems go offline. Your processor slipping under, your spark forced to still and shrink to conserve energy, your last thought either a prayer to be found or the grim knowledge you’d die where you lay.

No, Buzzsaw didn’t see the peace in a death like that. He looked around, taking in his surroundings, and then started walking. His wings were folded, and he made no attempt to fly. It would take too much of his energy. So he had to stay on the ground to conserve what precious little he had left. He only hoped he found an energon source. If he was extraordinarily lucky, this planet produced it. His best chances were at finding a underground mine. Liquid energon wells weren’t found anywhere but Cybertron. Other planets only produced the fuel in its crystalline form.

He hobbled along, and it wasn’t long before he was stumbling across a cave. He felt the faintest stirrings of hope as he hobbled in, sending out a faint ping of his sensors. Maybe he would find energon after all. Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice when the ground under him crumbled, and he fell into the deeper caverns below. He hit the ground hard, and his HUD threw up frantic damage warnings.

He dismissed them dispassionately, resignation settling in his spark. The fall had taken out his left leg, and his right wing was bent. He wouldn’t be able to move. This was it for him. He was going to slip into stasis lock and die here. As his systems started to shut down, he only had enough energy for one last action. Just before his consciousness was stolen away, he thought of the family he’d lost, and the life he would no longer be able to live.

Buzzsaw lifted his head and released a haunting cry, the caves all over the island echoing with his grief and regret. Then his optics went dark, and his helm fell to the dusty ground with a soft clang of metal on rock.

In the tunnels around him, his death knell echoed on.

——————————

Optimus shuttered his optics and tilted his head when the haunting cry floated from the tunnels leading out of the bunker. The Rescue Bots and their partners, who were also in the Lounge area, paused what they were doing and looked up. The Prime frowned, concerned. Young Cody was in the tunnels. Was he perhaps hurt?

“It must be a bird.” Graham said after a moment. “That’s what it sounds like, anyway. It might be lost in the tunnels and calling for its flock.”

That reassured Optimus. Now that he stopped to think, the cry HAD sounded more animal than human.

“Should we go help?” Boulder asked, clearly concerned.

“No.” Chief Burns said after a moment. “Let’s give it a bit. It might get out on it’s own. If it’s still crying like that in an hour, then we can help.”

“Got it, dad.” Graham agreed, and then he and his partner were returning to their previous task.

The other Bots and humans soon followed suit. Optimus was left staring at the tunnel entrance, lips twisted in a frown. Something was tugging at his processor. That call had definitely been animal in nature. But it had also sounded just faintly mechanical. His audials had barely even picked up on that aspect of the eerie wail, but he had heard it, he was certain of that.

The buzzing of the comm. system tore him from his thoughts. It was Cody.

“Uh, Dad? Guys?”

Chief Burns was answering in less than a minute. “We’re here, Cody. What is it? Do you need help?”

“No. Well, kind of. I don’t need help, but I found someone who might.”

Kade scoffed. “What, is a lost bird flying around in a panic? Just try and scare it back towards the entrance, it’ll be fine. We heard that call, I’m sure it was just calling for its friends.”

“Um, no.” Cody was blunt. “It’s not a bird. Not an Earth one, anyway.”

“Can you repeat that, son?”

“It’s not an Earth bird. I think it’s Cybertronian. And it looks like it’s hurt pretty bad.”

Optimus froze. A Cybertronian bird. That wasn’t possible. The only types of Cybertronian avians he knew of were Cassettes.

“Cody.” he cut in. “What color is it? Is it red and black?”

“No, Optimus. It’s black and…brown, I think? It’s really dirty. I can’t see what the other color is very clearly. It might not be brown.”

Not Laserbeak, then. But he didn’t know of any brown and black avian Cassette. Maybe one had escaped Cybertron on its own? It was extremely unlikely, but he supposed it wasn’t impossible. Cassettes were perfectly capable and intelligent.

“Oh, wait. I have a towel in my pack. I can see if I can clean some of the dirt.”

“Why do you have a towel in your bag?” Kade snarked. “You were just exploring the caves.”

“Sure, but I wanted to go to the beach right after. Hang on, I almost got it…” there was a pause. “There. It’s black and yellow. It’s still hard to tell because the grime is really caked in and the paint is old and fading, but I think the other color is yellow.”

Optimus froze. Black and yellow. But how? Buzzsaw had been lost on Centauri-12. Except…that wasn’t quite right either. He vaguely remembered a report that Jazz had found the Cassette stowing away on the Ark after the Autobots had left that planet, but that he’d been chased off before he could be captured when they’d been near a space docks. Had the little avian really survived on his own so long? It seemed almost ludicrous to even think it, yet he knew there was only one black and yellow Cybertronian bird who had left Cybertron.

“Hold on, Cody. I believe I may know who that is. Tell me, is he awake?”

“It’s a him? And no. I’m almost not sure if he’s even still…” Cody trailed off, but Optimus understood.

“I see. Stay where you are. I am coming now. And be wary. If I am correct, then that is Buzzsaw. He is a formidable foe, and if he wakes you must stay away from him.”

“Alright. I’ll be here.” the boy agreed, the the comm. cut off with a click.

“Wait, foe? Is this one of those Decepticons you mentioned, Optimus?” Chief Burns asked.

“He is indeed.” The Prime informed him.

“Then why should we help?” Kade asked. “If he’s one of the bad guys, shouldn’t we leave him there?”

“No.” Heatwave stood, crossing his arms. Glancing around, Optimus could see the same resolve the fire truck was showing in the rest of the Rescue Bots. “‘Con or not, we aren’t leaving him. We’re Rescue Bots, we save anyone who needs it, regardless of who they are. If you won’t help, we’ll do it on our own.”

“You are correct, Heatwave. It would be wrong to leave Buzzsaw to perish.” Optimus agreed. He looked down at the humans. “If he is truly as injured as Cody says, then he will be of little threat. So long as you are wary, he will likely be unable to cause you harm.”

“Are you certain, Optimus?” Chase asked.

“Yes. Buzzsaw is a Cassette. He is far smaller than any of you. He is also very young. I believe that he is the equivalent of a human teenager, if my memory is not mistaken.” The Prime soothed.

That was clearly the key to convince the Chief. “Go.” the human said. “If we can help, we will. It wouldn’t be right to leave him there.”

Optimus nodded, and then folded down into his alt-mode and drove. He had not told the humans, but he was certain that the call they had heard earlier had in fact been Buzzsaw himself. He had not wanted to mention it, to avoid distressing the others too much. But he was certain of it now.

That haunting cry hadn’t been a call for help, it had been a death song.

——————————

Optimus pulled up alongside Cody, shifting to root mood as his optics found the still form lying limp on the ground. Primus, it really was Buzzsaw. He crouched down, one large hand slipping under the too-light form of the downed Cassette. This wasn’t right. Cassettes were smaller and not as heavily armored as a normal mech, but the avian shouldn’t be this light. Looking at him now, the Prime was starting to realize that Buzzsaw had likely been on his own and in a state of gradual starvation ever since Centauri-12.

“Optimus? Is he going to be okay?” It was Cody, and the boy was frowning up at him.

He hesitated, then folded into his alt-mode, carefully ensuring that Buzzsaw ended up in his cab. He opened his door, letting the human climb in, and then he was driving back to the bunker. He was silent for a lone moment before he finally spoke.

“I will not lie, Cody Burns. Buzzsaw’s status is…not promising.” he said after a moment.

There was silence as he drove, and then-

“You said he was a foe. Does that mean he’s a Decepticon?”

“Yes.” He answered simply.

There was more silence.

“Optimus?”

“Yes?”

“Why did the Decepticons start the War?”

Optimus was silent for a long moment. The boy truly was perceptive. But how could he answer that?

“Cybertron…was not kind to all its children.” he said after a long moment. “There were many policies in place that kept those of high status in power, and left those of lower social classes struggling.” There. That should be a simple enough explanation.

“And the Decepticons were those lower class bots?”

“Many of them, yes.” Optimus paused. “You must understand, Cody. Cybertron was not the utopia some of my Autobots may believe it was. There were many who suffered greatly. However, while the Decepticons may have risen from a just cause, that does not justify the depths they have since fallen to.”

Cody hummed. “I get it.” he said softly.

Optimus relaxed. Good. He didn’t want to lie to Cody, but he didn’t want to boy to think that the Decepticons were harmless. He feared that if that were the case, the young human may do something foolish in the future. No, it was better he understood the War for what it was.

“Optimus?”

“Yes?”

“What’s going to happen to Buzzsaw?”

Ah. “I…do not know. If he is able to recover, I cannot allow him to go free. It would cause immense trouble for my team and my Autobots if he were to rejoin his Master.” he sighed.

“Master?”

“Buzzsaw is a Cassette. They do not often live their lives independently.”

“Why?”

“…perhaps that is a detail best explained with all the others.”

“Okay.” Cody tilted his head. “So you can’t let him go. Can you take him with you?”

Optimus winced. “That would not be wise. I am afraid my team would not understand. I am all too willing to give Buzzsaw a chance, but if I were to bring him to my base I fear the others would argue in favor of his…deactivation.”

“Deactivation.” A pause. “You mean they’d want to kill him.” he whispered.

“The Decepticons have caused my mechs a great deal of pain, Cody.” Optimus said softly. “They would not do it to be cruel, but I know there would be more than one among them who would believe such action justified. An eye for an eye, as the earth saying goes.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

“No.” Optimus agreed. “But it is War, and those who suffer the effects of it long enough do not enough grasp right from wrong any longer, only what hurts have been inflicted and how best to return them.”

“It’s a cycle.” Cody said sadly.

“A cruel, bitter one.”

Optimus could see the light of the bunker up ahead. He drove towards it in silence, spark heavy.

“Optimus?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think…Buzzsaw could stay here? On Griffin Rock, I mean. Maybe I could help him. The team too. He looks like he’s been on his own a long time. At least, I think he has been. If he has a “Master” like you said, I don’t think they’d let him get this bad off.” There was a pause. “Maybe he’s tired enough to not want to go back to the War? It’s worth a try, right? I want to help him.”

And Optimus, for the first time since he realized who the downed Cybertronian was, felt the faintest stirrings of hope.

——————————

Buzzsaw was resting. Blades had prepared a large crate on which to treat the injured Cassette, and as soon as Optimus had released the avian the small copter bot was scanning him and bustling around to repair him. He’d gotten an energon line started already, and currently his digits were transformed into the medical tools he needed to repair the damage to the Cassette’s internals and armor. As Blades worked, Optimus shared everything he had told Cody in the tunnel with the others.

“So he can’t go with you because your team might kill him, and you can’t let him go because he’d go back to his Master and cause trouble for your team.” Heatwave sighed. “I suppose that means his Host is here on Earth?”

“Soundwave is here, yes.” Optimus hummed. “He is Megatron’s Third in Command and Chief Communications Officer.”

“Ah, yes. I can see how that would cause issues if such a mech were to regain access to his Cassette.” Chase said.

“Cassette.” Cody said slowly. “You called him that in the tunnel too. It’s important. Why?”

Optimus hummed. “First, you must understand that Cybertronians are divided by our frame-types. There are flight frames, and among them you have Helios, Jets, Shuttles, and Seekers. Among the ground frames, there are cars, two-wheelers, trucks, and even more. There are even aquatic frames, though they are few and far between. Beyond them, you have triple-changers, bots who naturally have two alt-forms rather than one. There are also those with non-vehicular alt-modes. And finally, you also have mini-bots, and alongside them there are Cassettes.”

The humans were staring, focused intently on the overly simplified lesson. The Rescue Bots didn’t pay it much mind, however.

“Among all those frame-types, barring Cassettes, it was not uncommon on for some bots to have additional abilities on top of the normal abilities granted to them by their frames. Host mech are one such example. They can be any frame-type, but they are set apart because of their ability to bind their sparks to those of Cassettes in order to form a symbiotic bond.”

Cody blinked. “What do they each get out of the bond?”

“The Cassettes gain protection. Cassettes were…not a well-regarded class. They were found on the streets or in the wilds, and often forced to struggle for their very survival. Most Cybertronians viewed them as simple-minded or feral. They were not thought of as having much intelligence, or even sentience.” Optimus forced himself to continue at the disturbed looks the humans wore. “So for Cassettes, a bond with a Host was a chance at safety. They relinquished their freedom to their Host, and in return they would be given fuel, shelter, care, and above all else, safety. In return, the Hosts received the obedience of their Cassettes, and the Cassettes would help them with any task, function, or job they required.”

Cody was sitting next to Buzzsaw, and the Prime saw him extend a hand to lay it on the avian’s head. “That…that doesn’t sound very fair, Optimus.”

“Perhaps.” he agreed. “But most Hosts treated their Cassettes well and were very fond of them. Such a bond was necessary for many. Cassettes get their name because they do not have an alt-mode capable of movement. Their alt-mode is always a cassette tape or something else very similar. When the bond is formed, a Cassette gains the ability to dock within the armor of their Host while they are in their alt-mode. It is an added degree of safety.”

Chief Burns hummed. “I think I get it. The important bits, anyway. The cultural stuff…” He trailed off. “That I have a harder time wrapping my head around, but I get why our guest being a Cassette matters.”

“Oh?” Optimus had little doubt he did. The Chief was an intelligent man.

“He’s going to want to return to his Host. Because Soundwave is synonymous with safety for him, right?”

“That is likely.” Optimus agreed.

“But you said Hosts usually care a lot about their Cassettes. If that’s true, how did Buzzsaw get like this?” Cody cut in.

The Prime tilted his head. “The last reports of Buzzsaw’s location are many years old. He was last seen on an uninhabited planet that briefly became a battlefield for the War. The Decepticons fled, and the last reports on Buzzsaw are from after Megatron took his army off Centauri-12. It is likely the damage he sustained is a result of him being on his own.”

“So he might have been abandoned?”

“That…seems the most likely scenario, yes. Though Soundwave’s fondness for his Cassettes has always been well known, so I am at a loss as to why he would be left behind thus.”

“Does it matter why?” Cody asked.

“What are you thinking, little brother?” Dani sounded amused.

“If Soundwave abandoned Buzzsaw when he was supposed to be caring for him, then would Buzzsaw really want to go back?”

Optimus reset his optics, startled. “I…had not considered that.” he said after a moment. “I do not know. That is something you will have to ask him yourself.”

Cody perked up. “So you think he would benefit from staying, then?”

Optimus turned to Chief Burns. “If your father agrees, then yes, I do believe so. I have seen the effect you have on bots, young Cody. I believe you can soften even the hardest of sparks. If you are willing to put forth the effort, then there is a chance that you maybe able to help Buzzsaw.”

Chief Burns crossed his arms. “Will he be dangerous in any way?”

Optimus turned to the copter bot still treating the avian. “Blades. Can you disable his weapons systems and battle protocols?”

“Already did.” The young bot sounded distracted. “I disconnected his turbines and anti-gravs too, so he won’t be able to fly. Though I don’t recommend keeping that second part a thing for long. He’s a avian, he needs flight as much as any other flyer.”

Optimus nodded, then turned back to the oldest human. “With those measures in place, I believe that he will be a minimal threat. If he turns out to be a greater risk than you are willing to take, you can always call me.”

Chief Burns considered it, then nodded. “Alright. He can stay. It’s only right to give him the chance.”

Kade frowned. “Is that really so smart? Optimus said it himself! He’s one of the bad guys!”

“But how much choice did he have, if he fought the War his Host joined?” Graham asked.

“Does it matter? The ‘Cons still hurt people!”

“Our War is not so black and white, Kade Burns.” Optimus warned.

“So some political policies and social perceptions sucked! That’s bad, but is it really a reason to start a war?” Kade demanded.

“The Senate used ritual disfigurement as a punishment.” Blades’s voice carried over, sounding distracted.

All heads snapped to him. Kade gaped, and the other humans looked horrified. Privately, Optimus winced. Perhaps that wasn’t the nicest detail to share, but it was too late now.

“What?” Kade sputtered.

“The Senate were the political rulers of Cybertron. They controlled pretty much everything.” Blades mumbled, still focused mostly on Buzzsaw. “When a bot went against them, even in a minor way, they’d use punishment called empurata that involved surgically removing the bot’s face and hands and replacing them with one large optic and a pair of claws.”

Kade swallowed. “Okay. So it was really, really bad. I guess I was wrong.” he said, sounding too sick to care that he’d just admitted to being wrong.

The other humans also looked horrified. Cody looked like his entire worldview had been shaken.

“Cybertron was not kind to all its children, before the War.” Optimus said quietly. “The Decepticons were more than justified in rising up to fight for their freedom. But they took things too far, and now their original cause has long been lost.”

Chief Burns was the first to recover. “That’s often the case, with wars.”

Optimus nodded solemnly.

“We’ll take care of Buzzsaw.” Cody’s voice carried over. Despite how horrified he’d seemed earlier, now he just looked determined. “We’ll show him there’s good in the world. Maybe he doesn’t want to fight anymore. I want to help him.”

The Prime smiled, them dipped his helm. “And so you shall.” he agreed. “When he wakes, tell him that I am leaving him here. I recommend you tell him that Soundwave is on this planet. If you withhold the information, and manage to befriend him, then he may feel betrayed if he learns you hid the fact from him and return to Soundwave on his own.” he warned.

Cody nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

Optimus hummed. “We cannot set him free at this moment. But if you feel it is right, you may also tell him that his other option is that he will remain a prisoner in the Autobot base, but that in that scenario I will have difficulty guaranteeing his safety.” he warned.

Cody tilted his chin up, clearly displeased. “That won’t happen.”

The large bot chuckled. “I hope you are right, Cody Burns.” he nodded at the other humans, flaring his field in a good-bye to the Rescue Bots, and then he was folding into his alt-mode and driving out through the tunnels. He’d get the mainland and call for a ground bridge from there.

He truly hoped Buzzsaw could find happiness. Primus knew the Cassette had earned it.

——————————

Awareness came to him slowly. At first, Buzzsaw was confused. He was fairly certain he’d slipped into emergency stasis. He hadn’t onlined his optics yet, but the messages blinking across his HUD didn’t help his confusion.

Fuel Level: 37%

Warning: Low energon

Movement not recommended

Energy Level: 12%

Warning: Energy rerouted to essential systems

Cause of Energy Drain: Starvation and damage

Recovery time necessary

Internal Communication System: Disabled

Sensor Array: Offline

External Spacial Sensors: Online

Transformation Cog: Offline

Weapons Systems: Disabled

Battle Protocols: Disabled

Self-Repair: Online

Fuel System: Online

Wing Turbines: Disabled

Anti-Gravs: Disabled

Warning: Unknown medical access to internal systems detected

Warning: Unauthorized medical access to combat systems and flight capabilities detected

Self Diagnostic Report: Severe damage and starvation

Low Fuel: Addressed

Armor Integrity: 49%

Fuel Pump: Functional

Fuel Tanks: Shrunken, functional

Intake: Minor rust detected, addressed

Fuel Lines: Damaged, patched

Wires: Damaged, patched

Conclusion: Frame in need of full recovery

Rest recommended

Strenuous activity not recommended

Warning: Presence of unknown Cybertronian and unknown organic life forms detected in proximity.

Well. That last warning certainly warranted some degree of alarm. Red optics snapped online and the avian lifted his helm. His gaze immediately found the aforementioned Cybertronian. It was a small orange and white copter bot, and immediately clear was the Autobot insignia on his chest. For a moment, Buzzsaw tense, his vocalizer releasing a sound halfway between a screech and a growl. He made to stand, to fight off the perceived threat, when the bot pressed him down with a hand between his wings.

“Easy, easy. You’re okay.” He soothed. “My name is Blades, of Rescue Team Sigma-17. You’re on a planet called Earth. My team and I just want to help you.”

His words made Buzzsaw pause and take another look. Huh. That was right. The badge on his chest wasn’t the Autobrand after all. But how? He was fairly certain that Megatron had destroyed the Rescue Force and killed all its Teams. How had this lone team survived? He cocked his head sharply, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You’re Buzzsaw, right? Optimus Prime was here earlier. He told us about you.”

Well. There went his hopes of his Decepticon status going unknown. And the Prime was here, on this planet? That meant Megatron was doubtless here as well. But who else was?

Blades shifted under his gaze, then sighed. “Just stay still, okay? I patched up what I could. Now your self-repair needs to handle the rest. You need to rest if you want to recover.” He made to leave, then paused. “Also, Optimus told us to tell you your options. You’re on an island called Griffin Rock. You can stay here and stay out of the War, or he can return and keep you prisoner in his base. He said if you go with the second option he’d have a difficult time guaranteeing your safety.” Buzzsaw could see that the small mech was clearly uncomfortable with that last series of statements. He didn’t seem fond of the idea of violence or what amounted to keeping someone against their will.

After another beat, the bot nodded at someone else in the room. Buzzsaw snapped his helm in that direction and saw a small organic. He heard Blades leave, and then the organic was looking up at him. The small creature beamed, and them he was climbing up onto the crate that the avian found himself confined to.

“Hi! I’m the one who found you. My name is Cody.”

Buzzsaw stared, optics narrowed.

“I’m sorry about your choices here, I know they aren’t the best. Optimus doesn’t want you going back to Soundwave though.”

That made him freeze and perk up. Soundwave was on this planet too? A part of him was excited and wanted to seek out his Host. He remembered the kindness, the affection, the gentle treatment. He remembered the safety and security that had come from being bound to the spymaster.

He also remembered the abandonment. Remembered the years of fear and pain and hunger that had followed. Remembered the loss and betrayal, the desperation that his Host would return only to be forced to come to terms with the fact he’d been cast aside.

Buzzsaw clacked his beak, then looked away and forced down the sad coo that wanted to escape him. He felt something on his armor, and looked over to see the organic–Cody–pressing a small, soft hand to the plating of his neck.

“He left you, didn’t he? Optimus told us a little bit about Hosts and Cassettes, and about Centauri-12. You got like this because your Host left you.”

Buzzsaw stared, not knowing how to respond. A part of him, the part that was vicious and angry, wanted to rip off the organic’s limb. The larger part of him was just tired, though. After a long moment of staring, the avian sagged, optics dimming. What was the harm in telling this organic anyway? It wasn’t like he was really a Decepticon anymore. Not really. It also wasn’t like Cody would be able to cause him much harm, anyway.

He nodded, his beak clacking and his wings rustling as he let out a gust of air from his vents. That hand hadn’t left his neck, and it moved to stroke up and down the plating.

“I’m sorry.” Cody said softly. “No one deserves to be abandoned by their family.”

Buzzsaw stared for a moment. The organic had said they’d only been told a little bit about Hosts and Cassettes, yet it seemed he already understood the bond was fairly deep. Either he’d been told more than he let on, or he was just very perceptive. Either way, a part of Buzzsaw couldn’t help but be grateful for the understanding.

He knew he should be lashing out and trying to fight. But what was the point? His weapons systems and battle protocols were disabled, he couldn’t fly, he couldn’t walk, and his fuel levels were too low for him to have the energy to do anything significant. Even without all that, he was just tired of fighting. True, he’d always enjoyed a good, honest fight, but he’d only ever used his more excessive forms of violence because that was what had been demanded of him. He’d had to be violent to survive the wilds before Soundwave, and after he’d had to be violent to fight for his new Host. But he hadn’t wanted life as a fighter, as a soldier. And now, confronted with everything he’d learned, and the last few years of his abandonment…he was tired. He didn’t want to fight this organic. He just wanted rest. He could figure out everything else later.

Besides, the gentle contact didn’t feel so bad. It wasn’t heavy enough to hurt, and it was more reminiscent of the preening he’d used to do with his sister. His optics dimmed, and he let his head come to lay on the crate. Cody didn’t seem offended at his lack of responsiveness. Instead, he felt that small hand move up to stroke over the top of his helm.

“Get some rest, Buzzsaw. I’ll be here when you wake up. I want to help you get better.” the small organic murmured.

Buzzsaw didn’t know what to do with that sentiment. A part of him scoffed at the weakness of it. The other part was too tired and beaten down to care. He released another heavy vent of air, and let his optics slip offline. Moments later, he was slipping into recharge, even the brief moment of consciousness having drained what little energy he had.

——————————

Cody was indeed there when he woke up. It was only for a few moments though, because then the organic had to go to school. Apparently, this planet also has educational institutions. Buzzsaw didn’t have much of an opinion on that. While he was gone, the rest of the Rescue Bots introduced themselves, as did their own organic partners, and he was informed that the organics were called “humans”. Again, Buzzsaw didn’t particularly care. It was useful information, he supposed.

The others left him to himself throughout the day, except for the brief moment when Blades came to remove the energon line feeding fuel into his frame and replace it with a small cube of energon that was set in front of him. After that, he was left alone. Perhaps they sensed his mood, perhaps they were busy, perhaps they didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t particularly care. It did give him time to think on his situation, though. Obviously, they wouldn’t let him go free. Even if he did promise to not return to Soundwave, he knew he would have difficulty hiding here. Since, apparently, it was very important that the human race didn’t learn about the Cybertronian presence on their planet. One would think they’d have figured it out when the alien war came to earth, but he wouldn’t question it. Still, it meant he couldn’t just be let loose on his own.

He also refused to be an Autobot prisoner. As for returning to his Host…he was torn. A part of him wanted to. But the larger part of him was still hurt. And after his distance from the Decepticons…he wasn’t sure he wanted to return to the faction itself. Pits, he didn’t even have his brand anymore. He’d come across a Neutral medic sometime after Centauri-12, and he’d offered up his services to locate energon in return for the medic’s services to remove the brand. It had been a thin sheet of metal painted purple and welded to his chest, so it had required the aid of a medic to remove without damaging his armor. But it had been done, and then they’d gone their separate ways. He hadn’t worn the Decepticon badge in years.

So where did that leave him? He couldn’t escape in his state, but even when he recovered, what then? What was there for him on this little island? What was there for him on this planet itself? Would it be worth staying?

He must have drifted into recharge at some point, because he was startled awake by Cody’s loud greeting to the others. He jerked, optics flashing on as he lifted his helm. The human blinked when he came around the corner, then smiled.

“Buzzsaw! You’re up!” he called out. He walked over, pulling himself up onto the crate beside the avian. “So, I had an idea! Blades told me you don’t have to be hooked up to anything anymore, and I noticed how your armor seems pretty dirty, so I was wondering if you’d like to get clean?”

Buzzsaw blinked at him. The human gestured to the corner, and he looked over to see a large tub and a bucket that hadn’t been there before. There were rags in the bucket.

“Boulder offered to help. I figured you might feel better if you can get the grime off?” He offered.

He stared for a moment, and then he dipped his head in a nod.

Cody grinned. “Great! I’ll get Boulder. I have to change clothes really quick.”

Buzzsaw cocked his head sharply at that. Clothes?

Cody interpreted the curious gesture for what it was. “Clothes are what humans wear!” he plucked at the colorful things clinging to his frame. “We don’t have metal armor like you guys, and we don’t need it, but we wear clothes to cover ourselves because it’s not considered decent to go without them.” He tapped his chin. “Chase once told me it would be like if a Cybertronian went around without any armor at all.”

Buzzsaw jerked his head back, optics shuttering. Ah. That, he understood. So human had their own version of a protoform underneath their clothing. He did not want to see a fully bare fleshy protoform, thank you very much. He lowered his helm, bumping his beak into Cody’s back to encourage him to go. The boy laughed, then jumped off the crate and trotted away.

A moment later, Boulder came around and smiled at him. “Hey, Buzzsaw. Cody said you accepted our offer to help you clean?” He nodded at the tub. “Is it okay if I carry you there? You shouldn’t be putting weight on your leg.”

Buzzsaw grumbled, but after a moment he nodded. He didn’t exactly want to be carried like a helpless sparkling, but he couldn’t get there on his own. Not in his state. Boulder paid no mind to his grumbles, and instead stepped forward to slip a large hand underneath his frame. The avian was lifted up, then carefully cradled in gentle hands. He was brought to the tub, then lowered into the liquid that filled it. He cooed in pleasure upon realizing it was warm, frame relaxing every so slightly.

Cody chose that moment to return, his lower half covered in something very colorful and the rest of his form bare. He climbed into the tub with Buzzsaw, then dragged the bucket in after himself. On the outside of the tub, Boulder grabbed a larger rag and dipped it into the liquid in the tub.

“Is the water okay? Not too hot?” Cody asked.

Oh, right. This was water. He recognized it now. Other planets had it too. He nodded, watching the Rescue Bot soak the rag in the warm water and hold it out towards him.

“Boulder is going to take care of your armor, and I thought I’d use my smaller size to get in between everything and get all the dust and muck out from your armor seams?” Cody suggested.

Buzzsaw stared for a long moment. That was…rather intimate. But he also hadn’t been able to have such an in depth cleaning since before Centauri-12. He could feel the dirt and grim in between and underneath his armor plates. Even if he didn’t trust these people, he did trust they wouldn’t hurt him. They’d have done so already if they were going to hurt him at all. He could bear some rather intimate grooming if it meant getting clean. He nodded.

Cody beamed, and then Buzzsaw felt the gentle pressure of Boulder wiping off the surface of his armor. While the bot worked at that, Cody chose a rag from the bucket that Buzzsaw now saw was full of cleaning cloths and brushes. The human soaked it in the water, then lifted it and started wiping it along the edges of his armor plates. The avian let himself relax into the warmth of the water, optics slipping offline. He didn’t know what to make of his situation, and he wasn’t sure he liked being forced to stay, but for now he’d enjoy the moment of comfort.

He didn’t realize when he slipped into a state of half-recharge. He was barely aware as the bath finished, and then Boulder transferred him to a large towel which was used to dry him off. Cody went to get blankets while Boulder did so, using the soft fabrics to make a comfier “nest” on the crate that Buzzsaw was returned to a moment later. The avian cooed as he was set into the soft nest, optics offlining fully as he rested his head in the fabrics.

Clean, warm, and comfortable for the first time in years, it didn’t take him long to slip into the most peaceful rest he’d had since he’d lost his flock.

——————————

A few days passed in much the same pattern. Cody would go to school, Buzzsaw would be left alone, and then the boy would return and spend the rest of the day talking with him. The avian never responded, content to listen and learn all he could about this world and the species that dominated it. Things fell into a routine, and he came to be comfortable in it. He even stopped minding the way Cody would touch him and stroke his plating as he talked.

And then the routine changed. Cody came to him after school one day and told him he wanted to have a “movie night”. Apparently, he believed that showing Buzzsaw human entertainment would be a good way for the Cassette to learn about human culture. The avian made no protest. Cody talked to him for the afternoon, then went to have his nightly meal with his family. After that though, he returned for the “movie night”, enlisting the aid of Boulder to move Buzzsaw’s crate in front of a large vid screen.

Cody then joined him on top of the crate, settling into the nest of blankets and wrapping himself in one of his own. He was dressed in clothing that he informed Buzzsaw was called “pajamas”. Then, the movie started and the avian let himself be distracted story unfolding on the screen.

The movie was about two humans under a curse, one who turned into a creature called a wolf by the day and the other who turned into a hawk by night. It was a fairly simple story, and while Buzzsaw certainly found some of the attitudes of the characters to be irritatingly soft he could understand the appeal. He might even say he enjoyed the movie. It was fun. Maybe human entertainment wasn’t as bad as he thought.

And then Cody put on a movie that he said was “animated”, and Buzzsaw was very quickly insulted. The movie was about living cars, except they had no other form to transform into. The main character was a cocky, irritating fool, the tow-truck was the most annoying creature he’d ever been forced to watch, and the mentor was a smug, pompous aft. Buzzsaw hated every character in the movie. If that wasn’t enough, even the setting was insulting.

“What the frag.” he hissed. “How is this garbage supposed to be entertaining? There’s no way those insufferable creatures would have successfully built a civilization. They lack any appendages that would allow them to hold, build, or invent anything. Temporary gripping attachments don’t count, those lack dexterity. Primus, those things would have all died out within the first few generations of their species existence. They certainly should have.”

The movie was paused, and Buzzsaw turned his help to Cody to find the reason. He saw the human grinning brightly, looking thrilled. His plating bristled, and he narrowed his optics.

“What.” he snapped.

“You finally talked.” Cody was beaming.

Buzzsaw shuttered his optics, tilting his helm. Ah. So he had. “Did you think I couldn’t?” he demanded.

“No.” Cody shook his head, smiling. “I knew you could. I didn’t want to push to make you talk to me before you were ready though.”

The avian paused, staring uncomprehendingly. That meant that Cody hadn’t actually thought of him as a simple minded beast. He’d known Buzzsaw was more than that. And he hadn’t tried to force his will on him to make him speak before he wanted to. He had been content to wait. Seemingly as long as he needed to, if Buzzsaw understood the subtext of this conversation correctly.

“Why?” he asked wearily.

“You deserve to be treated with respect.” Cody said seriously. “Just because you look like a bird and don’t have a vehicle mode doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of being treated like an individual with your own thoughts and feelings. It would have been wrong to push my own wants on you. I want to help you get better. That means going at your pace.”

Buzzsaw twitched. “Many Cybertronians would not agree with you. They would argue I am little more than a beast and thus deserve to be treated as one.” he paused. “My pace?”

“Then it’s a good thing we aren’t on Cybertron, isn’t it?” Cody pointed out. “And yeah. Your pace. I want to help you recover from the things you’ve experienced and discover your own path, discover the things you want to do and the life you want to live. But I know that sort of recovery won’t be immediate, and it may not even be as fast as I want it to be. But that doesn’t matter, because it’s your recovery, not mine. So we go at your pace.”

Buzzsaw stared at the organic for a long moment. “…I don’t understand you.” he said.

Cody smiled. “That’s alright. As long as you understand I want to help.”

He stared for a beat longer, then grumbled and turned back to the movie. He needed to process this. Cody seemed to understand he was done talking, because the infernal movie started up again. Buzzsaw wasn’t paying attention, though. Instead, he was lost in thought, turning over the things he’d learned.

He didn’t notice as the movie ended, and another one started. He did feel it, however, when halfway through the next move is a slight weight settled against his side. He looked down to see Cody had fallen into his own recharge and had slumped against Buzzsaw’s side in the process. The avian didn’t move to wake him. He stared at the slumbering human for a long beat, then heaved a sigh and lowered his helm to rest it on the lip of his makeshift nest. He refocused his optics on the bid screen, paying half attention to the new movie playing. It was something about singing cats. Buzzsaw wouldn’t pretend to understand.

He relaxed, Cody’s warmth curled against his side, and his optics dimming slowly as recharge crept up on him. By the time the movie ended, it had claimed him completely, and he and his odd little companion both slept on peacefully as the credits rolled.

Neither of them woke as Chief Burns came down to retrieve Cody. He paused when he saw the scene, and he turned off the TV, dimmed the lights, and left the sleeping pair to their rest.

As Buzzsaw slept on, his hardened spark cracked just a little. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

——————————

Buzzsaw was watching Cody. He did that a lot as of late. The little human still talked to him a lot, though the avian didn’t always talk back. Most of the time he was content to listen. In the past few days, he’d learned a lot about the odd little organic. In that time, his legs had also fully healed, and his nest had been moved to the floor and tucked into a corner of the bunker so he could maneuver on his own. His wing was still injured, but even if it wasn’t his turbines and anti-gravs were still disabled.

Right now, Cody was quiet. The boy was sitting on a box a bit away from his nest, working one something he’d called “homework”. Judging by the frustrated expression he wore, he was having some degree of difficulty. His curiosity piqued, Buzzsaw stood and stepped out of his nest, walking over to see what the human was working on. He sidled up behind him, tilting his helm to peer over his shoulder.

Oh. It was math. Buzzsaw could work with this.

“You’re missing a two.” he grunted.

Cody paused. “What?” he asked, turning to look at the again standing over him.

“You’re missing a two.” he repeated. “In the third problem. You’re missing a two. That’s why the first part of your answer isn’t matching up with the second.”

Cody blinked, then turned back and looked over his work. He made a noise of triumph, perking up and correcting his work. Then he returned his attention to the Cassette.

“Thanks, Buzzsaw!”

He only grunted, helm cocking sharply.

Cody smiled, used to his non-verbal communication by now.

“So you know some math?” he asked.

“Sure.” he Buzzsaw grunted, folding his legs and settling down. “Laserbeak and I never received a formal education; Cassettes weren’t allowed to. But Soundwave taught us some things after he bound us to him. He wanted us to have a greater knowledge of a variety of fields.”

“Laserbeak? Is that another Cassette?”

“Yes.” Buzzsaw paused, his optics dimming. “My sister. My twin, actually.”

Cody sat up, eyes wide. “You guys can have siblings?”

“Yes. It’s a rare occurrence, but it happens. Though Soundwave did have another set of Cassette twins besides us, too.”

The human stared, then seemed to realize something. “She’s…gone, isn’t she?”

“No.” he huffed. “If she was, I would have felt her loss in my spark. But she left me when Soundwave did. I cannot entirely blame her. If he told her to leave, she would have had to obey. Still, it does sting.” Buzzsaw admitted, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

And Buzzsaw didn’t understand, but the human did seem genuinely upset on his behalf. He sighed, shaking his helm to get rid of the memories.

“It’s whatever.” he grunted. “It happened. I can’t change it. Gotta live with it.”

“You miss her.”

Buzzsaw froze, his optics snapping on to the human. He stared, then couldn’t stop himself from slumping. “I so. I miss all of them. Primus help me, but I really do miss them.” he hissed, hating himself for it.

Cody put a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry they left you. You didn’t deserve it.”

He went still, then jerked his gaze away and focused on the paper. “Yeah. I suppose. But you have work to finish, don’t you? I can help.”

He seemed to understand that the avian was done with that topic of conversation, because the human dropped his hand and nodded, returning his own attention to the paper. “Sure. Thanks!”

Buzzsaw scoffed. “Don’t thank me yet. Now, let me see those problems. Tell me how you think you need to solve them, I’ll say something if your approach needs an adjustment.”

——————————

Buzzsaw was alone when he woke up. That struck him as odd, especially since his chronometer cheerfully blinked up on his HUD to inform him that it was only midday. He’d checked twice. He dismissed the notice with a grumble, hopping out of his nest and wandering around the bunker. His wings were folded away, the damaged one finally having fully healed the day before. It was a relief to be able to relax it fully now.

He looked around, sending out a ping of his sensors, and picked up the signals of the Rescue Bots above him. He walked over to the large pad they used as an elevator, tapping the console with his beak and letting the platform lift him up. As soon as it stopped, he was walking out of the open doors of the building he’d been informed was called a “firehouse”. He picked up on some unidentifiable noises, following them to what ended up being a court for some sort of ball game. The Burns family and the Rescue Bots were all playing. After a moment of observation, Buzzsaw realized the objective of the game was to get the small ball into the small hoop that the opposite team was guarding. It reminded him just a little bit of Cube.

He made his way over to where a bench was sitting to the side of the court, hopping up onto it. It was just low enough he could manage that much without his wings. Then he turned his attention back to the game, watching curiously as the ball was tossed around. After a few minutes, a stray toss sent it in his direction. Buzzsaw tilted his helm up, catching the ball on the tip of his beak and bouncing it once, then he tipped his head, letting it roll to the top of his beak before he tossed his head to send the ball back towards the others.

Blades caught it, smiling when he saw the avian. “Good morning, Buzzsaw.” He greeted.

The Cassette nodded, turning his attention to Cody as the boy padded up to him.

“You’re awake!” he smiled. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon from your nap.”

“It’s fine.” Buzzsaw dismissed. “What are you playing?”

“Burns Ball! It’s version of a popular earth game we adapted for our own rules!” Cody said brightly. “Do you want to play a game?”

“My legs aren’t as efficient as all of yours and I can’t use my talons to grip when I’m on them.” he answered dryly.

Cody frowned, considering. “What if you could fly?”

“Is that really a good idea?” Kade interrupted.

Cody shrugged, then turned back to the avian. “Are you going to leave if we give you back your flight?”

“Where would I go?” Buzzsaw scoffed. “I refuse to return to the Decepticons, and I’d sooner eat my own thrusters than join the Autobots.”

Cody blinked, then beamed. It as clear he understood what Buzzsaw was really saying. It made him want to groan. He was getting soft. When had he gotten so easy to read? And by a tiny organic, no less.

“You won’t leave.” he translated. Then he turned to Blades. “Can you do it?” he asked hopefully.

Blades hummed, already walking over. “Are you sure?

“I’m sure.” Cody confirmed.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Buzzsaw offered in a low drawl. “Cody wanted to fix me, so now he’s stuck with me.”

Blades and Cody both giggled, but then copter bot got to work. The Cassette didn’t move as his turbines and anti-gravs were reconnected with his main flight system, and then Blades was stepping back.

Buzzsaw stood, wings spreading fully. He crouched, then leapt up and activated his turbines. They roared to life, his anti-gravs clicking on, and he let out a victorious shriek as he flew in a wide circle around the ball court. After another few circles and dives, he glided down to land next to Cody.

“So.” he hummed. “How about a ride?”

Cody jerked in surprise, and grinned. “Seriously?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I lack hands. I have no way of holding on to the ball, and my talons and beak would pop it.” he sniffed. “You’d be doing me a favor, honestly.

“Noble!” Cody breathed.

Buzzsaw had learned what Cody meant with that odd phrase in the last few weeks. He lowered his helm and bent his legs, letting the human clamber in to his back. He had a set of thrusters lower down on his back, but unlike Seekers, Jets, or Shuttles his only served the purpose of granting him a speed boost in the air. He didn’t actually need them to get airborne.

Once Cody was seated securely at the base of his neck, Buzzsaw straightened and took to the air. He circled the court, and with a toss of the ball, the game began.

——————————

The rescue missions weren’t unusual. At least a couple times a week, something happened on the island that required the whole team to mobilize. Most of the time though, it was simple. An earth cat stuck in a tree, a lost hiker, a damaged traffic light. The type of thing that only required one or two of the Rescue Bots to handle. Today, it seemed, would not be one of those times.

It had started out peacefully. The Rescue Bots had been out of the bunker, taking care of various things around the island. Boulder was on a “nature walk” with Blades and their partners. Heatwave was with Kade at the school teaching a fire safety class. Chase and his partner were out on a patrol. Cody had remained behind, and he and Buzzsaw were seated on the couch of the lounge watching what the human had called “cable TV”. Buzzsaw didn’t get the point.

Then the program they’d been watching had been taken over by a news report. There was a massive landslide in the mountain that was threatening to bury the whole town. Immediately, the rescue alarm sounded and Cody was racing to the command center. Buzzsaw stayed where he was, as he usually did when an emergency occurred. On the screen, he watched the chaos unfold. Thankfully, the human reporter was there with his camera to record everything.

It didn’t take long for the Rescue Bots to get to the site. It seemed to be progressing well, from what the again observed. Then Blades flew too low, and a stray rock took out his tail rotor. He was forced to land, and the team lost their aerial view. Blades could still help the team on the ground, but without proper “eyes in the sky” as Cody had called it, they would doubtless miss things.

Buzzsaw didn’t really think before he hopped off the couch. He flew to the lift, tapping the console that raised it, and as soon as he had space he was flying up and out of the firehouse. He flew around to where he knew the command center was, noting that the main window was open. Good. He landed on the ledge, optics locking on the screens Cody was viewing. Yes, things were definitely going badly.

“Just hang on, everyone! I’ve called Optimus, he said he’ll be here as soon as he can!”

“Yo don’t need Prime. You need an aerial view. That’s why you’re missing things.”

Cody whirled around. “Buzzsaw!” he cried out. “That’s not possible. Blades is down and there’s no way he can fly with his tail rotor damaged.”

“I know.” the avian straightened. “I’ll go.”

Cody froze. “Buzzsaw, are you sure?”

Before the Cassette could respond, the comm. burst to life. Clearly the others had heard their discussion.

“There’s no time to debate this! Lives are at stake! Cody, do you trust Buzzsaw?” Chief Burns demanded.

“Yeah, Dad. I do.”

“Then give him a communicator and send him out here. He’s right. We need eyes in the sky.”

Cody looked up at him, then nodded. He dug around a drawer, then walked over to Buzzsaw with a comm. unit in hand. He let it magnetize itself to the side of the avian’s helm, and quickly returned to the command console. Buzzsaw would definitely need the comm. His internal comm. system was still disabled. He didn’t say anything to the human, and instead turned and took to the skies.

It didn’t take him long to reach the disaster site. Immediately, he could see where he was needed.

“Heatwave, around the corner from you there’s a boulder baring down on a human couple.” he said sharply.

The firetruck replied with an acknowledgment and went to take care of it. Buzzsaw didn’t pay any mind. He was already focusing on the next issue that needed addressing.

“Boulder, mud and stone are about to take out those houses behind you.”

The bulldozer quickly went to take care of it, digging a trench in front of the houses to keep them from being hit. Buzzsaw moved on.

“Chase, down the mountain from you there’s a human youngling trying to outrun the landslide.”

The police car was quick to move and save the child. Buzzsaw didn’t pay much more attention after that. He couldn’t afford to. He needed all his focus on finding the smaller emergencies within the larger landslide before they could happen. Cody trusted him. He was the first in many years to do so. Buzzsaw refused to let him down.

The boy had earned his loyalty, though damn him if he didn’t know when. He didn’t intend to disappoint the one who had so much faith that he could be more than what he had been. Failure here wasn’t an option.

It never was.

——————————

By the end of the whole ordeal, Buzzsaw was reeling. He’d been part of a team again, even if only temporarily. It had been…nice. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. But now the job was done, and he was on his way back to the firehouse. The others had remained behind to do cleanup work, and apparently Chief Burns would also need to explain his presence to the political leader of the town with an excuse.

He made his way back to the firehouse, his processor starting to calm after the excitement. As he neared, his sensors picked a Cybertronian signal in the courtyard where the basketball court was. It only took a moment to realize who it was. Cody had called in the Prime for help, but that help was no longer needed. That didn’t mean the message had gotten to Prime in time, though.

Sure enough, when the firehouse came into view Buzzzsaw saw Optimus Prime standing in the courtyard. Cody was at his pedes. The avian flew down, alighting on the back of the hoop in front of the larger bot. He would ordinarily have landed next to Cody, but he’d spent too long seeing the Prime as an enemy to put himself on the ground in front of the large mech.

“Buzzsaw.” Prime greeted. “I was told you provided aid to the Rescue Bots.”

Buzzsaw didn’t say anything.

“Tell me, what would you do if you were able to leave?”

“I can.” he snapped. “I’ve got flight. I’ve had it for a while.”

Prime’s lips twitched. “So you have.” he agreed. “Then what are your intentions?”

“Cody decided to get into my business. As far as I’m concerned, he’s stuck with me now, whether he likes it or not.” he scoffed.

Prime’s lips twitched again. Clearly, he had been able to read between the lines to understand what Buzzsaw was saying.

“In that case,” he rumbled. “How would you like to join the Rescue Bots here on Griffin Rock?”

Buzzsaw shuttered his optics. “What.” he deadpanned.

“Would you like to become a Rescue Bot, Buzzsaw?”

“I don’t believe that’s up to me, Prime.” he pointed out. “Or you, for that matter. You don’t lead the team.” he sneered.

“Oh, for Primus’s sake.” Heatwave’s voice came over the comm.

Oh. That was right. Buzzsaw was still hooked into the team’s communications system. The Prime must have opened the previously silent comm. line to Heatewve for at least part of the conversation.

“Choose for yourself, Buzzsaw.” Heatwave continued. “If you want to, we’ll all be happy to have you. You proved to be a good teammate today. No one will have a problem with it. Pit, I’m the one who told Optimus to make the offer before you got there.” Then the comm. clicked off.

“Oh.” Buzzsaw said.

“Indeed.” Prime seemed amused, the fragger. Buzzsaw hoped he got slagged. “What Will it be, then?”

The avian cocked his head sharply. “Ugh.” he made a noise of disgust. “You know what? Fine. The soft idiots need all the help they can get.”

Prime chuckled, then lifted his hand. The armor in his palm shifted, and then a laser was shooting out and hitting Buzzsaw’s chest. There was no pain from it, and he watched as the Rescue Bot badge was put on his armor. The laser stopped, and the Cassette spent a moment staring at the new mark emblazoned on his chestplate.

He looked up when he heard Prime move. “I must leave now, I’m afraid. I am needed elsewhere.” the mech said, inclining his head towards them. Then he walked to the road, folded into his alt-mode, and drove off.

Buzzsaw stared after him, and after a moment he fluttered down to land next to Cody. The human smiled up at him, then lowered his gaze to the new badge on his chest. He lifted a hand to press it over the black lines, looking pleased.

“You’re sure?” he said softly.

Buzzsaw scoffed. “I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t sure. Like I told Prime. You made the decision to get involved with me, so now you’re stuck with me. I’m not leaving, no matter how much you want me to.” he said, his sneer lacking all its usual bite. He paused. “Besides,” he continued, his voice just a notch softer. “You really aren’t all that bad.”

Cody blinked once, then beamed.

Buzzsaw had to look away, feeling almost embarrassed. He hadn’t dared to hope for so many years, but it seemed Primus had deigned to show him kindness after all.

He’d finally found a new roost.

———————————————————————————————————

Well. That’s done! That was long. It took me multiple days to write. But! It’s done!

I had fun with it. Buzzsaw is a grumpy asshole and Cody is very indulgent of his dramatics. And yes, I made him capable of speech. I know he and the Laserbeak can talk in the comics, so.

Also, please excuse my liberal use of headcanons for some of this. Anyway. I hope y’all liked it! I’m sorry it took so long to get out.

Until next time, folks!

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anon-e-miss · 3 years

Text

Facade 2 - Aka Undercover Cow

Prowl’s spark was still racing when he reached his habsuite. He paid Andromeda and tiptoed passed his creations’ berthroom and slipped into the washracks. That had been too close, much too close. His servo shook as he turned on the shower and Prowl took a moment to take a long, shaking intake. It had never occurred to him that the Prime’s agents would operate a sting separate from those of the enforcers. The security he had found in his access to enforcer records and operations was gone; that access was no longer enough to guarantee his safety. Still shaking, Prowl took his root mode and with dainty hooves, he climbed into the shower and took up a scrub brush. He scrubbed himself thoroughly. Even though he overload here and there during his time in the booth, Prowl did not take any real pleasure out of it. It did not please him to debase himself in such a way but he was what he was and no matter how much Prowl have preferred to deny it, he was a heifer and his frame had certain needs.

There had to be some other way. The speakeasies no longer seemed like a safe means to his ends. Prowl’s homemade mini pump was not enough to stay on top of his frame’s particular needs. Perhaps... perhaps... He wondered where the booths these speakeasies were outfitted went after seizures, some evidence warehouse, no doubt. If Prowl could find a reason to go to one of the warehouse, to sign out evidence, perhaps he could steal the pump from within one of the booths. He had been in them often enough to be able to make quick work of it. Such a theft would not be detected quickly, perhaps even never. Since the speakeasies were so often tied to underground crimes, deals were often made with the operators, and though they would never have their seized wares returned, the evidence was never brought into the courtroom during a trial. It just sat in a warehouse, waiting for the order for it to be destroyed.

He could do this. Prowl was metaforensics, he had every reason to go to evidence warehouses; it would be easy enough to come up with an excuse. Of course, he would need to be careful. Before Prowl ever went to the warehouse, he would have to have confirmation that there was a booth stored to pilfer a pump from. Prowl had a couple of orns, probably. Strongarm still nursed in the light-cycle and at berthtime, and he had his scrap pump, he had some time before he would have to have his udders drained properly. It would be enough time to make a solid plan. At that thought, Prowl sighed and he discarded the brush in favour of soaping up his servos and gently washing his udders. It was a little obscene, the way his teats were still stretched from the strong cups of that booth. They reminded him of the heifers on the farms he had lived prior to his escape, their wells had always hung low and heavy, their teats stretch long and always a little swollen. Theirs might have been perpetually in that state, but his would recover some perkiness before long. Prowl sighed. It only mattered to him, no one else knew to care but it did matter to him. He felt like less of a mechanimal when his teats were more like a proper mechanism’s nozzles.

As was his habit, Prowl retreated to his berth room, still in his root mode. He always kept the curtains drawn, on all the windows. Both of his creations preferred to run about in their root modes when they were at home. The disguises Prowl had constructed for them with the help of a talented detailer who made it her life’s worth to help mechanisms like Prowl make new lives, sort of itched after a time. They felt too constraining. Behind their curtains, they could be themselves and that was really all Prowl could offer them. He wished he could teach them pride in what they were but there was no pride to be found in being livestock.

Prowl woke to Strongarm climbing into the berth with him. He hummed as she snuggled up as she latched onto his teat and drank. Drowsy light-cycles like this were Prowl’s favourite. Strongarm lingered at his well, not for the fuel her originator offered but for the closeness and the comfort. She cuddled for a little while before moving to his second well to nurse longer. Thank Primus she had such a hardy appetite or Prowl would not be able to go so long as he did before proper milkings. As Strongarm nursed, Smokescreen padded into the berthroom and cuddled up against his originator’s back. There were not nearly enough light-cycles like this. But Prowl was on second shift for the next few orns so he would enjoy the light-cycles with his creations. It was Prima-Tur, there was not school or sparkling care for his creations, so he would enjoy them until Andromeda came ‘round to watch them.

Eventually, his own hunger, and that of his bull, lured Prowl from the comfort of his berth and he made his way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He brewed energon as the opal oats cooked. Prowl sprinkled tourmaline shavings on top and Smokescreen inhaled his breakfast. Strongarm ate a little but as was her way, her principle breakfast had been found at Prowl’s udders. The comm came in as Prowl had mending Strongarms security blanket. He frowned, seeing that the comm was coming from his precinct.

“Prowl here,” he spoke.

“Inspector Prowl,” it was the Praefectus speaking, something that made Prowl still. “A urgent investigation broke over the dark-cycle. I need you to come in to take charge.”

“I am on second shift,” Prowl said.

“Not anymore,” the Praefectus said. “Not until this case is closed. Get in here, pronto.”

“Let me see if I can get my sparkling sitter in,” Prowl said. The Praefectus huffed. Somehow, command always seemed to forget that Prowl was a single procreator. He was fairly certain they were all in denial that he was not just their only procreator but their dam.

Andromeda was a true miracle. Prowl fussed with Strongarm as he waited for the young femme to arrive. His little femmeling was in no mood to where her disguise but Prowl was familiar with this battle. He was patient, he was a little stern. At the promise of five stars on her rewards chart, Strongarm allowed Prowl to lock her disguise in place. As Smokescreen watched, Prowl gave him five stars as well. His bull grinned at him and Prowl kissed his helm. It was only fair. He was a doting brother and just an all around good little mechling. Though Prowl could sense his disappointment, they had planned to have the light-cycle together after all, Smokescreen did not whine.

“On the bright side,” Prowl said. “I will be home for dinner and we can watch a movie before berth.”

“Okay!” Smokescreen exclaimed. “Be safe, Ori.”

“I always am,” Prowl assured him. “Be good for Andromeda.”

As the femme entered the habsuite, Prowl exited. He knew the Praefectus as a mech of little patience. Prowl had no desire to return to the patrol unit. The burglary unit suited him. Where there was more opportunity for advancement in Major Crimes aka Homicide, the joors were too erratic for him to manage with his creations, he had tried. In time, Prowl hoped to join White Kibble Crime, the joors were stable and the work the safest of all the metaforensics sections. Perhaps this case would be the ticket for advancement, given the Praefectus had chosen Prowl personally for it. He could only hope.

“Prowl!” Tumbler, or rather, Chromedome exclaimed. “What took you so long? The Praefectus has be asking for your for a joor.”

“I do not see how any of that is your concern,” Prowl replied, primly. Chromedome had been his partner for a time, during Prowl’s brief stint in homicide. The Tyger Paxian mnemosurgeon was particularly self important. He did not wait for Chromedome’s response but walked to the Praefectus’ office.

“Where is Prowl?!” Flatfoot roared as he threw his office door open just as Prowl was about to knock. “Oh... well it’s about time. Prime’s Special Investigator has been waiting.”

“It’s all good,” Prowl froze as he recognized the voice. The Autobot Polihexian stood up from the chair across from Flatfoot’s desk. “Ya did mention he had bitlets to sort out. Inspector Prowl?”

“Yes,” Prowl replied. As the Prime’s agent looked up at him Prowl prayed he would not see through his disguised.

“‘M Jazz,” the agent stretched out his servo as he smiled. “Flatfoot tells me yer the best investigator he has.”

“Oh?” Prowl asked. Flatfoot made a face.

“Don’t get to big for your girdle,” the Praefectus grumbled.

“My team’s tryin’ to crack a mechatraffickin’ ring,” Jazz explained. “It’s a special interest to the Prime. Buffaloid are turnin’ up in brothels ‘n the like. Tryin’ to see how their gettin’ lured into the underground. So we can put a stop to it.”

“I see,” Prowl replied. Either the Constructicons had gotten away or the agent did not believe them when they said that the heifer in their booth had been their willingly. Either way. That was something he could work with. “I will be happy to lend you my assistance.”

“Beautiful,” Jazz declared. “Well, Partner, come wit me. ‘N I’ll show ya the Pit hole we broke open.”

#maccadams #valveplug #undercover cow #facade #heifer prowl #cow prowl #tf prowl #tf jazz #the weird shit that i write #you read it so...#anon-e-miss writes

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secret-engima · 5 years

Note

Jazz's special Operations agents meeting Star for the first time!! Either as his One or the go-to medic for SPECS! (She would be their go-to medic?? Right?? Since shes Jazz's One??)

Hmmmm buckle up imma get long again.

-Most of them have met or heard of Starwish prior to her being his Sparkmate. But about 70-80% of them didn’t really- pay her much attention beyond making a mental note that their boss was fond of her. But he’s fond of a lot of bots outside Spec Ops, so they don’t really- pay it too much mind? It’s not that they don’t care, because she’s nice and a good medic, but there are a lot of autobots out there and honestly most of the Special Ops are kinda ... distant from the majority of the faction.

-Then she becomes his sparkmate in the most spectacularly unorthodox fashion and suddenly All Of Them Are Paying Attention. Who is this femme, what is she like? Obviously she’s their boss’s One and so they can’t and won’t lay a servo on her but is she a liability? Is she good for him? Will she take care of him and understand the truly dirty, horrible nature of their work? Will she distance herself from her own sparkmate if she does, thereby putting Jazz under even more stress and danger?

-Special Ops, being basically the Naruto ANBU of the Autobots but without the official ninja badges, immediately begin to investigate her with a lot more care and paranoia than before. Several, like Whitestrike, already have good opinions of her and are happy to share that opinion with the others, but you don’t get to be in Special Ops by taking people at their word, even comrades, so they begin to discreetly trail her and engineer encounters.

-Starwish startles all of them by telling her tenth “secretly Special Ops” patient that if they want to come in and talk to her that’s fine, but PLEASE stop breaking your own limbs and tearing up your own wiring and saying its a battle injury to serve as an alibi, self-harm in any capacity is Very Not Good and is also completely unnecessary. It’s also wasteful to use up medical supplies for alibis like this stop that pls and thank you.

-The Special Ops all collectively take a very long step back to reevaluate.

-Then they figure out that, oh yeah, she’s MASTER YOKETRON’S APPRENTICE. Of course she figured them out.

-They flip gears and immediately start doing the most unsubtle things ever. They’re like cats, pushing stuff of tables to see how the new person reacts, trying to see if they will drive her away just by being themselves. (Jazz watches from afar with an aura of Danger, because if they hurt or traumatize his sparkmate by going too far in their Testing he will Break Them All)

-Let it be known that Starwish was NEVER officially made the Special Ops go-to medic. She was never asked, never assigned, and it was never intentional. It just ... happened as part of the Testing.

-They start coming in when they are genuinely injured, drag themselves to Iacon at all hours, leaking energon and sometimes covered in fluids or cradling broken limbs. Starwish drags herself out of her berth alongside her sparkmate and fixes them while Jazz gets the report (which mean Prowl has to sigh and reassign her maximum security clearance, but then this is Jazz’s sparkmate and he trusts her implicitly so what did he expect).

-This means that Starwish hears Everything. She hears about their missions, the energon they’ve spilled, the sabotage they’ve done, the casualties and brutal efficiencies they’ve had to do to survive and succeed. Being Special Ops is not being James Bond, it’s not glamorous or easy or kind. It’s stressful and dangerous and it breaks down their ability to trust anyone else in the field until its a fine, stubborn wire that only extends to those who they HAVE TO trust at the time and that alone. Jazz tries to keep Zipline and Fast Track away from the worst of the missions, keeps them in sabotage for a REASON no matter how dangerous because it’s the NICEST and least spark destroying of missions (not like infiltrating for months on end, laughing and joking with the enemy like you’re comrades only to watch them burn from an ambush you set up and kill them because they were on a bad watch you needed to get past, not like hiding-hiding-hiding until you can’t remember what its like to NOT)

-Starwish doesn’t pull away. She fixes, and listens, and moves slow but efficient and warns when she’s going to touch and refuses to let their paranoia keep her from her job “I am your medic” she says without words “You will trust me even if you trust no one else, because I am the only thing keeping you alive”.

-They “let” her see their bad habits, their vices, let her catch them sneaking into the medical bay to replace the painkillers they stole last metacycle rather than submit to a medic’s examination (a medic who would probably have them off duty for orns to recover from what is wrong with them, something they can’t allow because they are NEEDED and the medbay might as well be a prison).

-Starwish doesn’t report them to Prowl, or Optimus, or any of the higher ups that aren’t Jazz who understands intimately what his mechs and femmes are going through. What she DOES do is start partitioning out some of the painkillers from the rest of the storeroom, a little at a time so that it isn’t missed or detrimental to the rest of the war effort, sets it up in her new office so that they can come to her to get something to ease their aches without risk of being caught stealing from the war effort.

-The first time one of the agents crashes for a recharge in her office, sleeps through her medical scan and her careful un-denting of the armor pinching a diode in his back is something of an unspoken acceptance of her place in their hierarchy.

-The first time she tracks down a group of three that had been coming in more and more frequently for pain killers, taking on more and more missions despite their clear exhaustion, and they LISTEN to her when she insists they need a break, that they need to stop and even if they don’t stay in the medical bay, she WILL be checking on them and repairing them for the next orn WHICH THEY WILL SPEND OFF DUTY ...

-That is when the Special Ops know that she is Theirs.

-As silent and unspoken and unacknowledged as so many things are in Special Ops, the awareness spreads through their ranks until it is unquestioned law. As Special Ops, even the Prime does not hold their complete loyalty (though he does hold a good deal of it). As Special Ops the only mech they ever answered unquestioningly to was Jazz, their boss, their comrade, their TEACHER in many cases, the best of them all who took on just as much of the burden if not more. For almost as long as the War has gone on, Jazz has been the only being to hold their complete obedience.

-Starwish. Their medic, their boss’s One, their little Cyber-Ninja apprentice who fights just as hard and doesn’t flinch from their fractured edges or their stories of death and betrayal and lies, is the second.

#SE asks #oliverslewty asks #AMOSC verse #Starwish (OC)#Jazz

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jd-arts319 · 4 years

Text

Embers of the Phoenix

Chapter 2:burning wheels

After the night-Daybreak

Emberblade p.o.v

After what happend that night,I send a message to him,needing to meet up with him soon & talk about last night,however it seems going be hard in this matter hour,I send a message to him that I might be little late to awhile since I'm trapped in a traffic jam.

Hmm,I wonder what he was doing now?,I hope he didn't get into trouble after what happend last night,but I do wonder what he was doing,was he looking for a track for the all spark? Or to send out the message that he finally found what we looking for?

I hope for the latter….oh!the lights turn green!,well can't be late now! I hope I don't keep him waiting too long….

Bumblebee p.o.v

[I wonder where she had been?],I beeped to myself,I sighed once more since now I had a ping from her,she gonna be late for awhile because of traffic jam!,well I can always play some games I download newly,so maybe that can keep me busy,is a good thing I choose the junkyard…?

I start playing the game I choose as I think about Emberblade,I piss the game & reminces when I first met her,it was vivid but I remember her when she came to my nursery with someone else before & took care of me….

Who knew I would meet her soon?!,but on Earth?! I have so many questions how she got here,well...she did answers some of my other questions easefully but some of the ones I need to know must be hard since,her's was foggy….

But there is one thing i'm able to know about her is from the others,she was descirbe, laid-back,smart,kind,cool but sometimes annoying, irritating & pest,but their who have said her like that tolerate her,but what stunned me the most was optimus…..

I remember ratchet & ironhide told me once that optimus had fell deeply in love with a unique femme,at first I thought it was either elita, causeway,or Lauren,but I was shocked when he said the lady who ahd visited me back then….

Emberblade…

It was a very beautiful name for a tough femme,the way he talked almost the same as the others but the tone of his voice was different & his expression,he had look of strong fondness & adoration the same way as…

The same as Emberblade's,the same look & tone when she talks about optimus,well….who knew? If optimus know this I think he will be happy,but I don't know about her….she thinks optimus liked or already in a relationship with one of the three femmes she knew…

Well time will tell for the while…

I heard a honk from my right & saw she was here already,I drove up to her & beeped,[took you long enough…],she then said"my apologies,traffic is a bit suffocating when it was time to work for the day starts..",she then transforms as do I.

We both talks about what happend last night,we both sat down & start getting comfortable,then she asked"what we're you doing last night on the abandon construction site?",I then asnwered"[sending a signal…??]",she then response"to the other Autobots?",I nodded,& nudge her slightly in understanding,she then ask"did you find the coordinates of the all spark?",I nodded "yes",I told her that the coordinates of the all spark was imprine on some object & I told her it leads to the witwicky residents.

She then said"witwicky?..odd…",we both noticed it was almost night & she said"how about we rest here & then you can go back in the morning then?",well I do feel getting tired so I agrred,we both transform & took a recharge,for some reason I feel something is about to happen.

Next morning…

When the sun rose from dawn,both Emberblade & bumblebee got out of recharge, the two decided to prepare to leave soon as possible before any humans found them,so around early of the morning,both transform & quitely left the junkyard.

Afterwards both said their farewells & left on their own way with promise messaging each other now & then,bumblebee soon got back to the house but then Sam saw him & soon starts getting out of the house & runs away by riding his mother's bike, bumblebee seeing this,he immediately chase after him out in panic & messages Emberblade about Sam.

Emberblade hearing the message,immediately made another on the road,following the coordinates of bumblebee,she soon arrives on the road where bumblebee was & then saw a police car with a fimiliar wording"to punish & to enslave".

,"shit!!! Is barricade!!! & He's heading toward where's bumblebee's human driver was!!!!!", I commed bumblebee about barricade,as soon as bumblebee heard her message,he immediately drove faster.

Emberblade followed barricade,she soon followed his tracks & starts gunning at hm,barricade soon saw her on his rear mirror,& growled he starts shooting behind at her

Emberblade soon drive backwards.

Later that night….

After what happend,she commed bumblebee, unfortunately she commed at the wrong time.

Meanwhile….

When the whole team are done introducing themesleves,bee's comm's beeped

Sam,mikaela & the other's looked at him questionly,he snickered & radioed"what's up bitch?",the bots looked at incredously.

When…"very funny bee…",a soft beautiful voice rang out,all of the bots are stunned & jazz said"I recognized that voice!!!!...",then ironhide said"could it be…!?!?",then a soft,gentle deep,voice of optimus said the name of femme he longing for…"Emberblade…..",the voice on the other side of the comm was quite for a minute & said in a quivering yet joyful voice"orion?!,is that you!?".

Optimus prime p.o.v

I couldn't believe it,it was her!!!!,I thought I lost her…

We are currently driving into sam's house as we speak but i couldn't stop thinking it…

The femme I love & yearning for was alive….this whole time….

I remember,when jazz told me that the council asked for Emberblade & needed her help,& then... some cycles ago,some of the survivors of the one that Emberblade saved said something that forever will hunt me for orns….

Agate,a female wrecker told me that she ends up chasing at the all spark,& when they try to track her signal…..it disappeared,as if…..she vanish to thin air….

I was numb….i was deviatsated,the femme who I grew fond of & to love,was gone….

But I couldn't let it get to me,because I know she didn't want to see me like this,so I remain strong,hoping that's one day….i would see her again..

& When that day came,I was relieve...I knew she was alive...she was okay…

We soon arrives at our destination & we transformed,while Sam was talking to his sire,I saw a glimpse of fimiliar,navy/dark blue truck with blue flames,then we couldn't wait any longer we got into his home,she too transformed & she saw me & gave me that beautiful smile of hers,she just stayed outside.

Then the power went out,I saw ratchet may have damaged the power cables,I heard her snickered,then we heard Sam about not destroy anything else & we transformed back to our vehicle mode,she did too.

That's when some black SUV's came,she along with us immediately backs away & when the "sector 7"took them,we followed Emberblade came driving besides me & when we got to side of where the bridge was,we all transform.

We notice that we arrive ahead of them,so ratchet asked"optimus what are we gonna do? How do we stop them?",I was thinking how but when I finally got an idea how, Emberblade says"they're almost here!!!!",we saw the arriving suv's.

Soon I put my plan in action & jumped infront of the unsuspecting vans & stopped where Sam & his mate was,I was upset & tore off the hood,soon I demanded them to get out of the car,even telling them taking the two was a bad move.

After relieving their weapons we interigorated them.

Jazz p.o.v

While optimus interigorated them,I looked at the truck femme,I admit she was a beauty,smooth face,bright teal optics,& plump lips,her optics shines like a gem!!! Dang, guess why now optimus fell for her,let's not forget her exotic body of hers~~~

Well I shouldn't oggling on her,she already got the leader pinning on her anyway…

Oh well...buuuut I could always play matchmaker after this!!!!

3rd p.o.v

Before it could go any further,helicopters starts coming in & soon all of them transform immediately & starts driving aways but before that optimus told them what to do while he starts running away.

Emberblade followed suit after,both soon got into another bridge both hide underneath,however soon mikaela slips & Sam catches her,but the two fell, Ember saw this & catches them but she too fell, unfortunately bumblebee came & there the helicopter s soon surrounded them along with the other humans,using the hooks while being sprayed by a gas.

Optimus could only watch as the two beings he clearly care for the most was being taken away, Ember was struggling who she called out for bumblebee,after they are gone.

He gets down & felt his spark gone numb,he clench his servos into a fist as the other bots soon transform,he saw the glasses & took it.

Soon afterwards,daybreak came & all of them stood infront of a white building as they talked about what happens last night.

At hover dam….

All Ember could remember was lights,smokes,bumblebee being hooked &....dark

She onlined her optics soon after she noticed she was in a room,she looked around & saw she was chained up.

When she tries to budge them off,someone came in & soon she realize it was Simmons,he was talking something about managing capturing them & what not,she recognize him before..she remembers about edmund mentioning an accquintance of his before.

He soon leaves the room with another elder human,while she was left alone, however the elder human soon notice she was awake,but kept his mouth shut but he did sign to her something.

I know edmund,he mentioned about you,don't sorry we'll get you out soon enough

Emberblade could only hope because not only the all spark is here…..

Megatron was here too…

______________________

Transformers @hasbro & paramount

Emberblade & Agate @me

Next chapt will be come up soon

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bytesnbolts · 4 years

Text

Les Fantômes - The Phantoms AU

The Worlds Collide Theater sprawled across an entire city block, wing to wing. For centuries, the chrome-sided building sparked the imagination of its theatergoers, who attended its frequent performances, and its students, who sought to learn the fine arts from the many experts that gathered within its walls. In many parts, it was simply said that there was an alluring pull to Worlds Collide as if it had its own gravitational field. However, one critic (who never missed a performance) remarked that it was the mechanisms that belonged to the theater that made it such a success, that gave it its almost hypnotic draw.

Laserstrut, the current owner, poured his spark into the Worlds Collide. He originally was nothing more than a stage hand, but had learned how to act and sing by audial from backstage. The datanet (and his favorite patron, Solar Pax) called him a theatrical genius for, beyond becoming owner of a failing theater and lifting it from its ashes, he still served as the theater’s prestigious divo, the starring lead, and was well-known for his portrayal of Solus Prime in The Forge, which they put on every ano-cycle to packed halls. He made audiences weep, laugh, and gasp, and he was well-liked beyond his stardom. Plus, it was refreshing, one critic wrote, to see two mechs so very much in harmony and as affectionate as the owner and his Shamble, who was both a repairbot for the theater and Laserstrut’s sparkmate.

The critics optics were also on the other stars of the theater, both onstage and backstage:

The promising mezzo-soprano Powerhouse whose bell-like voice and good-nature won her admirers;

The stage boss, Nitroxide, whose sets transported audiences away from reality;

The comedic quartet, Hydroglide, recently joined up after touring;

and the young costume designers, Crux and Flux, who had only just been taken on for their talents, but greatly enhanced what had already been enchanting.

There was many many more among this list, from familiar faces to newcomers.

However, there was another shorter list of great interest to the critics and public that seemed to be, in a sinister manner, slowly growing longer; it was something that concerned all members of the Worlds Collide greatly.

The datanet called those that lived within the shadows of the theater “the phantoms”; previously, it had simply been “The Phantom”, but that was now reserved for the original unknown that had taken up residence in the theater.

The Phantom had came online only a little while before the theater began to fail, back when Laserstrut was not yet the owner. Phantasmal dissonance of a violin had been heard in the walls, the cellar, and catwalks at infrequent intervals throughout the orn. The notes had driven the previous owner and pit conductor both to madness until neither could take more and returned to the Allspark (though it was unsure if it was by their own servos). Without an owner or pit conductor, the theater had begun to sputter until Laserstrut took over. Though the violin followed him from wing to wing, he refused to be driven off, so the screeches of the horrid instrument could be heard sometimes rising above the swell of the orchestra to give voice to the ever present displeased inhabitant.

One “Phantom”, a nuisance, could be endured.

Then, came a second “Phantom”.

This Phantom, unlike The Phantom, had taken up residence somewhere deep below the Worlds Collide. However, its singing could be heard all the way through the cellar and the flooring. It sung a good deal, but it was decidedly more pleasant than The Phantom and its violin. Yes, they interrupted singing practices to lecture the students from some unseen spot, demanded a share of the theater’s earnings, and harried Powerhouse about private lessons. However, their worst offense was breaking set pieces when they apparently roamed the theater above their undiscovered hideaway.

Two “Phantoms”, a concern, could be managed.

Then, a third “Phantom” joined.

It took an entire ano-cycle to realize a third Phantom had settled in; it took a frame falling from the roof on to the steps outside during the performance of The Seeker’s Snare. The third Phantom resided on the roof and in the attic as far as the staff could tell. They could really only decide this was the case because anyone that ventured up to either alone simply disappeared without a trace. That Phantom never asked the owner for anything at all. It never spoke or sung or played music, but anyone that dared to try to rob the theater seemed to disappear and missing items were left on the steps.

Three “Phantoms”, a disaster, could be mitigated.

However, a fourth “Phantom” arrived, and the staff hoped it was the last.

The most recent Phantom was decidedly the worst. It lived in the part of theater being used and liked to hover just on the edge of the peripheral, disappearing before one could catch a glimpse of it. Cast members were found staring transfixed into their mirrors or at walls and wandering the corridors in a daze, unable to explain what had fallen over them. It had not hurt anyone that worked in the theater, but they found greying frames tucked into the alleyway on occasion. And, worst of all, it sung. It sung beautifully, so much so that it made bots forget what they were doing and search for the voice. It attended performances, singing accompaniments and transfixing the audiences while sitting somewhere among the boxes.

At four “Phantoms”, the Worlds Collide became famous and in a state of constant tension and underlying emergency.

They could not close the theater nor cancel performances or classes or tours. The Phantoms made sure all the staff were aware of their preferences on those matters in one way or another: a violin trilling from the walls, two voices singing their desires, and any attempt at locking the building being destroyed and the doors thrown wide open.

On record, Laserstrut owned the theater, but the reality was very clear: Worlds Collide belonged to its Phantoms, and there was no way to tell if more would move in.

#AU: The Phantoms #NPC| Laserstrut #(( When you can't decide who gets cast as Phantom just make multiples ))

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insecwrites · 7 years

Text

Spectral Advisor (Starscream/Skyfire )

Summary: After some time out of the ice, Skyfire leaves the war and the Autbots behind. As he is trying to cope with the loss of his friend, partner, and old life, he encounters Starscream at his desk. ...Wasn't he dead though?

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When Skyfire saw Starscream standing at his desk, he thinks he’s had too much Energex. It would not be the first time he’d drank more than he’d intended to, but he had never straight-up hallucinated.

Starscream didn’t acknowledge him, busy as he was trying to flip to the next entry on Skyfire’s personal datapad. His hands were phasing through the controls, and he was scowling at the thing in a manner that suggests he would toss the datapad out of a viewing port if he could touch it. Skyfire had seen Starscream’s coronation, where he announced himself as the new leader of the Decepticons. It had been broadcasted on any and all Cybertronian frequencies through the galaxy, in glorious detail. In the first few moments after Starscream’s live death, Skyfire had wondered if there was enough of Starscream left to have a funeral for.

Maybe that should have been the first sign that his mental state was taking a nosedive. Or maybe he ws still suffering from all those millions of years frozen in ice, and the effects were only now showing up.

“Starscream? …” He said breathlessly.

Starscream jolted, and it was a good thing he phased through whatever he touched or all of Skyfire’s desktop would have ended up on the floor. For a moment, they simply looked at each other in silence. Skyfire in a pained hope, and Starscream in-… excuberation?

“You can see me?!” Starscream yelled.

He was loud – far louder than Skyfire would have expected him to be as a hallucination. He’d been expecting something more morose and depressing, with crying and guilt tripping, but this Starscream was just as lively as ever, his wings angling through a wide array of emotions as he waved his hand towards Skyfire’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?!”

“I- … All of them?” Skyfire reached out to grab Starscream’s hands by habit, as he used to whenever Starscream got a little too physical in a discussion, but his fingers slipped right through.

Starscream did not look bothered. “I knew it! I knew it!” He crowed. “It wouldn’t have made sense otherwise! Yes! This changes everything, oh yes-!”

“Starscream-…” Skyfire reset his optics, watching as Starscream celebrated. “How are you here? Aren’t you…You’re dead?”

“ Was being the keyword in that sentebce.” Starscream replied. “I didn’t STAY dead, as you can see, and that’s what matters the most. Well, actually, it matters a lot more that you can see, because surviving death when you cannot interact with the world is terrible. I would know!”

Skyfire shook his head incredulously. “I-…How could you come back from death ? You-… There was a breeze and your frame literally fell apart and blew away. ”

“Well, I just woke up like this.” Starscream replied flippantly. “I assumed that my lust for vengeance allowed me to return so I could haunt Galvatron, but it turned out he couldn’t see me. The best I could do was disrupt the signals to his entertainment hub, and that got old very quickly. I then attempted to communicate with the living, with similar underwhelming results. ‘Commlink acting weird …’ You’d think a scientist like Wheeljack would figure something out that someone is trying to communicate from beyond the Allspark!”

Skyfire had nothing much to say. Just as when he’d watched Starscream die, it seemed that his emotions were on break, waiting to swoop right back into the fray as soon as the shock died down.

“And don’t bother going to see any of those ‘mediums’. I visited Dirge, and then a depressingly long list of filthy little organics, and none of them could hear a single word that I said!” Starscream was getting agitated just thinking about it, judging by the way his wings snapped up. “But, all of that is in the past, because now, I know that I am real, and that I can actually do something with all the things I’ve seen and heard in this state!”

“Oh. I could see that being... frustrating.” Skyfire nodded. All senses other than his optics and his audials were reporting that there was, in fact, nobody in front of him.

“You have no idea.” Starscream complained. “I have enough dirty secrets in my brainmodule to topple a government, and that is barely an exaggeration. All I need is someone to help me bring this information into the world, in a fitting manner!” Starscream’s optics were piercing and red, and they held Skyfire’s gaze long enough that Skyfire could begin to see through him and into the room behind him. Skyfire had many memories that featured that very same look; Starscream’s patented look of persuasion.

“… It’s for a better world too, before you get upset at me for my ambition.”

“… You have to understand that I’m not sure you are real right now.” Skyfire said in a measured tone. “I was buried in ice for a few million years, lived through some war, avoided the doctor, and I think I drank a little too much energon.”

Starscream blinked. “I-? … Do we really have to go through that!? There are things to DO! Urgent things!”

“… If you are the real Starscream, you would agree that it is a bad idea to listen to random hallucinations.” Skyfire replied.

“Fine.” Starscream bit back. “I will give you proof . What is the name of the current Prime?”

What an odd question. The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? “Optimus Prime?”

Starscream smirked. “No. Not anymore. He got someone to succeed him. Want to take a guess who that was?”

“...Ultra Magnus? Magnius Prime?” Skyfire could tell he was wrong the moment he said it, if only because Starscream’s grin grew two ticks wider.

“Wrong!” Starscream crowed. “The new Prime is a young mech hailing from Nyon. A racing frame, raised on a neutral colony. I was a witness to his ceremony, where he became a Prime by the simple act of trying to hand the Matrix to Ultra Magnus. Upon becoming the spiritual leader of our race, his first acts as Prime was to mortally wound himself so he could gain advice from the Matrix.”

“…This has to be something I am hallucinating.” Skyfire said. “He-… the Matrix wouldn’t let a Prime do something like that… Is Optimus really dead-?”

“Go ahead and call Bumblebee. He was there to see it happen.” Starscream continued. “Oh! Maybe ask Arcee or Kup instead, they were both there when ‘Hot Rod’ arose to Primehood.”

“...”

“And I’ll say that his name fit his personality very well. He was apparently a berth-hopper before Primehood.” Starscream smirked. “Verrry kinky, judging by what I found in his private quarters. I could tell you his commlink number and you can embarrass him by asking him about that fake spike he keeps under his berth.”

“Okay – stop, just… Give me a moment.” Skyfire squeezed his optics shut, and stroked the transformation lines on his helm. It felt like his head was shrinking around his brain module. “I’ll call someone on Cybertron.” Starscream leaned against something invisible, and made a ‘hurry up’ motion with his hands.

Skyfire looked through his commlink contacts, scanning for Bumblebee’s name in between old pre-war contacts. With the distance between himself and Cybertron, it took a few moments for the call to connect, and the first few glyphs spoken were garbled by static.

//Uh, Hello, Skyfire?// Bumblebee said. //I wasn’t expecting you to call, after you left. Without saying anything to anyone, or leaving a message…. What’s up?//

“Hello Bumblebee.” Skyfire said. For a moment, he felt compelled “I’m calling to confirm a rumour; is it true that a new Prime has been chosen?”

//I… Where did you hear that?//

“That news is travelling far faster than the Autobots think it is.” Starscream said, impatiently tapping a foot a few inches above the floor. “The Junkions really enjoy broadcasting whatever gossip they can get their hands on, and Cybertronian gossip is very sought after. Lately even more so, with the Quintessons searching for Cybertron-”

“Starscream – I am in a call!” Skyfire stage whispered, trying to keep his voice low enough so that his commlink wouldn’t pick it up.

// Skyfire? Are you still there? //

“Oh! Yes, sorry Bumblebee. I was-… It was on the news. Just, please tell me who the new Prime is.”

//Okay, that’s good. Are you okay? Nobody has heard from you, and the war is officially over, so you could come back to Cybertron and help to rebuild it.//

Skyfire offlined his optics. “I just want to know who the Prime is, Bumblebee. Before I do anything else. Just to be sure I’ll be of any help, you know?”

//O-kayy? Well, you probably know Ultra Magnus was next in line, but he’s not the Prime. Someone grabbed the Matrix to hand it over, and the Matrix chose him. His name is Rodimus Prime. //

Skyfire’s optic’s met Starscreams. “…. Is that derived from ‘Hot Rod’ ?”

// How did you know that? // Bumblebee asked quickly. //Who told you?!//

“I told you, didn’t I?” Starscream said with a smirk. “Is there anything else you want to confirm, or can we talk business now?”

Skyfire didn’t answer him, still too busy staring at a most-likely-real Starscream apparition. Back from the dead to meddle in politics of all things. In his spark, he could feel the telltale hiccups that meant his shock was coming to an end. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling just yet, but it wouldn’t be very long.

//He’s- well, I haven’t been around him too much, but he’s very different from Optimus.// Bumblebee continued to chat in Skyfire’s commlink, oblivious to SKyfire’s shifting attention. //I think it could be good. A new Prime for a new time, you know? Jazz seems to like him. You could meet him, if you came to Cybertron to meet him. //

“Yes. I will have to think about that.” Skyfire said. He didn’t take his eyes off Starscream for a moment. “I have things to do, Bumblebee, if you’ll excuse me. Good orn.”

//Um, alright? Good or-//

He closed the commlink connection to Cybertron before Bumblebee finished speaking, and focused his attention on Starscream.

“You. Are real.”

“Yes, I do believe we proved this now.” Starscream replied.

“You came back from the dead, from being vaporised into fragments so small that nobody could even find me a vail full for a proper burial … And the first thing you do when you come back and talk to me, is to try to take part in politics ? Together with me?” Skyfire spoke slowly to let the meaning of his words sink in for the both of them.

“… Yes.” Starscream said, not a trace of shame or guilt in his face.

Skyfire closed his optics. Underneath the joy of seeing his friend again, and the knowledge that a second betrayal would win nothing for Starscream, that first betrayal still burned. Starscream was not a mechanism of easy apologies. The Starscream that Skyfire had known well and intimately, had preferred to tell himself a story on why his choices were the correct ones instead of stooping to an apology.

“… Will you help me?” Starscream prompted him. “Skyfire?”

There were whispers in the back of Skyfire’s helm that sounded like Autobot voices. In the madhouse that was the future, Starscream’s name had become synonymous with betrayal and scheming.

Skyfire scrutinised how he felt, and let it settle in his frame. Despite the anger, the betrayal, and the grief Skyfire refused to believe that Starscream had become that bad. If that meant he had to get burned a second time, then so be it.

“Yes, Starscream. I’ll help you, as much as I’ve ever helped you.” He replied with sincerity. He would have grabbed a hold of Starscream’s hand, had it been solid, and judging from the way Starscream held his hand outstretched, he would not have minded.

“Yes! Yes! I will make you a great figure of power! We will save Cybertron together-…” Starscream’s smile was radiant and triumphant in answer to Skyfire’s reply, until a sudden realisation washed it down. “… I am suddenly reminded of all the previous times you helped me, and I realise that this might not be as much of a triumph as I was thinking.” His voice was not without humour, though it sounded a little more bitter than it should have. “At least half of our cooperative projects were compromises, if not more.”

Skyfire felt a smile for the first time in cycles. “You used to say that you liked my…what did you call it? ‘Loyalty to myself?’ ”

“Stubbornness.” Starscream replied. “Stubbornness was the word I used, I’m fairly sure.”

“My memory is fresher.” Skyfire quipped back. “And you were not much better, especially not when we first started working together! The amount of times you said ‘yes’ to my faceplate and did ‘no’ behind my back… You have gotten back into that habit, haven’t you?”

Starscream flicked a wing dismissively. “I unlearned it once, I’ll unlearn it again. It will help a great deal to know that your preferred method of payback involves pouting rather than petty violence.”

“…. Well. I am sure we’ll be able to find a middle road in what needs to be done.” Skyfire said. He was not thinking of ruling an empire with a spectral Starscream at his side. Rather, he imagined Starscream, back in a functioning body, together with him. If he had to play some politics to keep Cybertron functional enough to make that an option, he would help Starscream.

“Well then.” Starscream said. He sat back and flicked his wings to get comfortable. “You best get something to take notes, because there is actually a lot I need to fill you in on before we can get planning.”

Skyfire grabbed a datapad from the floor, and wiped it clean. He doubted that its info would be useful in the short term. “Lay it on me.”

BREAK

It never quite became clear how Skyfire came to infamy. Sure, mecha can tell you why everyone looks over their shoulder for his spies, or why his advice is more sought after than pre-war vintage Energex, but nobody can tell you how he did it. Mecha that knew him from the war, a handful of Autobots, can only say that he was a withdrawn and quiet mech. More suited for transport and reports than for politics or battle.

He hadn’t been clairvoyant back then, or the Autobots would have won the war before the Quintessons had even begun their invasion plans. He hadn’t been able to predict the motivations and intentions of the other players on the political playing field, nor had he seemed remotely interested. He hadn’t been able to produce top-secret information as a side-thought, or he’d chosen to keep it all to himself.

After Skyfire had been dug from the ice of Earth to partake in the war, he’d taken a short break. For a few decacycles, Skyfire had withdrawn from any and all Cybertronian ongoings. When he came back, he slowly but surely oozed his way to the upper command. Not as an officer or a recognised civilian rank, but as the mech that always seemed to know when to show up, and what to say to who.

The only little flaw about him, was that he talked to someone when he was alone. He argued with a mech nobody could detect, and had an unhealthy interest in inert dolls or unsparked shells. Of course, this meant that any theories about Skyfire’s sudden change in interest and capability were accompanied by a plethora of ghost stories. Odd tellings of old lovers, Unicron’s return, sparkeaters, and other horrors.

So, nobody truly knows how Skyfire senses coups, or how he picks his enemies. All they know is that, no matter how much he argues with a non-excisting voice, he always comes out on top.

#transformers fanfic #insecwrites #skyfire/starscream #skyfire #starscream

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keaalu · 7 years

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Remember Me, chapter one

Title (chapter): Remember Me (01)

Series: Transformers, G1-based “Blue” AU

Rating: PG-13

Notes: In which the coneheads have a fairly simple job to do, but Ramjet is pretty confident one of them (probably Dirge) will still manage to screw it up.

“I’m sure I could hit him from here.”

“We’re not meant to be shooting him, Dirge. We’re not meant to be drawing attention to ourselves yet. Or did you forget that part? Again?”

Sitting on a distant cliff right on the territorial limit of Vos, Ramjet had a headache coming on. He still didn’t understand precisely why Megatron had sent his trine back here, unless it was to get shot of the three of them for an orn or two. (Which Ramjet could understand; he’d have liked to be able to ditch his wingmates for a couple of orns, as well.) It wasn’t like this played into any of their specific skillsets. Spying on the former command trine was the whole reason mechs like Soundwave existed. They didn’t have a whole lot to show for their trip, so far.

And now he had to deal with a bored, argumentative Dirge. Sure, Ramjet loved his wingbros, but they really made his helm hurt sometimes – even more than flying into slag did, and he was actually engineered for that.

Ramjet tuned his brother out, returning his attention to the matter at hand. After Soundwave had picked up on some carelessly unguarded Autobot chatter that suggested there was going to be some sort of official celebration in the coming orns, the three coneheads had been sent back to Cybertron to get a feel for what was going on.

That idiot spacebridge guard had even asked them if they were coming for ‘that Vos thing?’ and had happily let them through when they’d lied that of course they were; what else would they be going back to Cybertron for?

They’d arrived to find the ‘thing’ involved Vos – correction, New Vos – being on the cusp of being recognised as an autonomous city-state once again. The celebration was the official recognition of that fact. Looking at the news reports, half the damn planet was going to be attending.

And Ramjet, one of a small number of pure-sparked Vosians, who’d survived Tarn’s attack, and dug out Primus-only-knew-how-many survivors, and fought against the Autobots that had wanted to keep them all grounded, and actually defended that ungrateful red slagger on more than one occasion instead of just letting one of Prime’s band of merry morons shoot him?

Not invited.

The white jet couldn’t help feeling just a tiny bit hurt. And vindictive.

Megatron had been cooking something up for a long time – something to permanently wipe the insufferable smirk off a certain jet’s faceplates. Ramjet was looking forwards to getting to see it.

Of course, the warlord hadn’t let all his remaining loyalists in on the details – didn’t trust them not to prematurely screw it up, Ramjet guessed. Fair precautions if Thrust was involved. All they’d been told was go to Cybertron, see what’s going on, and when you leave, make sure you leave my calling card. Preferably something that will get them to come to me.

The three uninvited mechs had quietly set up a scope on the escarpment, to watch proceedings from a discreet distance. New buildings in Vos had sprung up like weeds; even now, two small Seekers were carefully hoisting a girder to the working platform, their trine leader shouting directions down to them.

Thrust watched them with a curl in his lip. “Yeah, this looks so much better than working for Megs, of course. I’d so much rather be hauling building materials around like some dumb beast of burden.”

Ramjet kept his vocaliser carefully offline, to keep from pointing out that actually? Something about this sounded… tolerable. Something possibly even rather appealing about the idea. Coming home, helping rebuild. Not getting shot at by underclocked Autobots for the sake of a few dregs of energon.

If only it wouldn’t involve the need to thank the scarlet traitor. He was fairly confident his vocaliser would glitch out before he managed the words.

Atop an unfinished high central tower, a small group of Seekers had clustered; there were a few that Ramjet didn’t recognise, and didn’t feel inclined to try and get an ident off them, but Starscream’s ivory wings were present, of course, right in the middle. Acid Storm stood off to his left, and Thundercracker was close by on his right. That giant white Autobot bus sat in the middle of a little cluster of curious Seekers on the edge of the platform, apparently more interested in chatting with the residents and enjoying the view than contributing to the conversation.

No Skywarp, but that was no surprise. Even before ditching the ‘Cons, the mech had elevated slacking off to an art form. No great deal – he’d have probably been as useful as a cardboard blast shield to them, right now.

Ramjet wasn’t sure what they were discussing, but figured it was something political. Could never be a good sign when even your (supposed) friends didn’t really want to get involved.

Starscream’s laughter – a high, grating sound that set Ramjet’s denta on edge – was audible even over the distance between them. Nice to see some things didn’t change. He was gesticulating grandly about something, arms waving as though conducting an orchestra, although Ramjet couldn’t parse his words at this distance. In front of them, a holographic representation of part of a city hung in the air; it probably overlaid the real streets, so Starscream could demonstrate where he was thinking of building his palace, or some slag.

Ramjet glared at the back of the silver wings, as if he could somehow focus his optics into lasers and bore holes through them. The traitor actually looked good. Perhaps a fraction smaller than the conehead remembered, more lightly built, but he was clean, well-polished, and highly animated, so obviously not suffering from lack of energon. It made Ramjet feel slow and heavy – not to mention, reminded him how fragging depleted he spent most of his life.

He’d got all New Vos pledging their alliance to him, and half the dirt-crawlers in the neighbouring districts. It was like a giant middle finger to Megatron, and the dwindling number of remaining Decepticon loyalists. Ha ha, look at me, bribing all these suckers with gifts and false promises. They’re such a gullible bunch of idiots, it’s truly shameful your mighty leader couldn’t lie so convincingly as me.

It’s not our fault we’re stuck on Dirt, on the wrong side of the space bridge, dealing with underclocked Autobots who just have no idea of when to fragging quit.

“I definitely could hit him from this distance. Might even be able to knock half the other slagheads off in the process.”

Yeah, that headache wasn’t going to get any better any time soon. Ramjet glanced up at Dirge, who perched on the very top of the escarpment, cannons up, making a big show of measuring his aim.

“It’s not about whether or not you’re physically capable…” the white jet sighed and covered his face with one hand. “We’re not meant to be shooting him, Dirge, or we’d have done it already. It’ll blow our cover, if nothing else.”

“Your life wouldn’t be worth living if the Boss found out you offed him, anyway,” Thrust added, from his ledge further down the rockface. “You know he’s been fantasising about finally killing the slagmunch for vorns. He might kill you in his stead. Then we’d have to find some other depressive loser to make our numbers back up.”

Dirge made a little noise of displeasure and folded his arms. “This from the mech that watches far too much human-made entertainment, and is always complaining that the bad guy doesn’t just kill the hero when they get the chance.”

Thrust vented a snort and finally looked up at his wingmate. “We’re calling the Screamer a hero, now?”

Dirge ignored him. “Anyway, I never said anything about killing the fragger. I just want to knock that obnoxious smirk off his faceplates.”

“Fine.” Ramjet glared back into his scope. “If you can do it without him raising the alarm, feel free. But if you ruin this whole plan that we’ve been working on for the last quarter vorn? You’re on your own. You can rescue yourself when they come hunting you. And when Megatron comes for your wingtips.”

Dirge went quiet, muttering to himself. “Just wish he didn’t look so fragging smug. And comfortable.”

“Yeah, speaking of which,” Thrust glanced up at his wingleader, “remind me why WE haven’t ditched the ‘Cons and come home, like those three losers?”

Ramjet glared back, but without much heat, and Thrust didn’t back down. Why indeed. “Because we know the meaning of loyalty, to the mech that scraped us up out of the gutter while Vos burned? We don’t owe these traitors anything.”

“You act like they’d even let the likes of you in, in the first place,” Dirge sniped. “We half-smelted guttermechs have no place in Cybertronian high society.” He waved a hand, airily. “Why are you suddenly so interested, anyway?”

“Because it looks nice, over there? It’s not some stupid tin can on the bottom of the ocean on a planet of dirt? We could have it made, over there. Comfortable. Not starving all the time?” Thrust glared up at him. “If a buncha soft-sparked Autobots and wibbly neutrals let Starscream come live here, without even separating him from his spark for war crimes, why aren’t we getting in on the action?”

Dirge snorted and used one thruster to give his burgundy twin a shove-kick to the head. “’Cause you’d get shot at before you even get to say ‘hi, how’s it going?’? You know those three are territorial as it gets. You saw what they did to Astrotrain, and that was just for roughing up one of Skywarp’s femmes.”

Thrust rubbed his helm and pouted. “That’s why you broadcast something friendly while you’re still out of range of fire?”

“Yeah, and I got you a massive white sheet to wave while you’re at it.”

“You know what? That wouldn’t actually hurt to have.”

“Guys,” Ramjet groaned, finally lifting his head from his hands. “Did you ever think the reason we’re a laughing stock that never get anything done is ‘cause you two spend all your time bickering?”

Two sets of hostile crimson optics glared back at him.

Dirge leaned subtly closer; “Right, so, nothing at all to do with the fact our de facto wingleader’s a waste of space whose only solution to problems is to headbutt them?”

Ramjet came halfway up into a crouch and Dirge hastily stumbled backwards out of range. “Where you’re just all noise, and no substance? Right,” he sneered. “Anyway. If this all works, you might get your wish, Thrust.” He picked up the scope. “Come on. We’ve got one more job to do before we can head back to Dirt.”

New Vos was separated from Deixar by the districts of Tysta and Surkea. Surkea was still a derelict ruin, but Tysta had plenty of high perches a mech could put down on to watch the goings-on below, and plan their next steps.

Dirge peered through the scope. “All right, so I could understand watching the Screamer, but why are we spying on a bunch of grounders?”

“Remember the second part of Megatron’s instructions?”

“Leave a calling card?”

“Right. And you clocked that one of the dirt-crawlers is Skywarp’s brat, right?”

“Like any of us could forget,” Dirge drawled, sourly, folding his arms “Point being?”

“Point being, you unimaginative troglodyte, if we want their attention, how better to get it?”

#remember me #transformers #blue au #ramjet #thrust #dirge

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silvokrent · 7 years

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Gears in Motion - 3

What better way to start off the orn?

At precisely 7:00 AM Prowl stood in front of the door to his office.

Even though his shift didn't start for another hour the tactician had long ago fallen into the habit of showing up early for his work. Today, an additional thirty minutes earlier than usual, given the mountain of datapads he knew awaited him on the other side of the door. Knowing how long it would take to go through all of the files gathered on his desk, he'd opted to forgo his morning Energon and proceed directly.

Didn’t mean he was necessarily looking forward to the prospect.

Cycling a vent of air, Prowl keyed open his door and stepped inside.

And did a double-take.

He was pretty sure that there had been at least several piles in his inbox and on his desk when he'd locked up for the night, with several more stacked on his filing cabinet.

So why, then, were half of them missing?

A prank was the first thought that occurred to him, and he had to physically bite back the desire to seethe. As if planning that game wasn't bad enough, someone had the audacity to distract him by making him hunt down his errant reports?

Snorting, Prowl strode around his desk and picked up one of the few remaining datapads―a mission statement which required a second signature―and gave it a precursory glance, worried he might find something tampered with. Instead, much to his amazement, the screen lit up directly at the bottom of the page, where Optimus Prime's elegant scrawl could be clearly seen underneath his own.

With a sudden inkling in the back of his mind, Prowl proceeded to look over the next datapad―and sure enough, this one (an inventory notice for the armories) was signed off on too. Every report that had required dual authorization from at least two officers had been given the go-ahead.

Suddenly, several hours' worth of overview and peer corrections had been done.

To top it all off they had been arranged on his desk and/or filed alphabetically by department.

For a long, bewildered moment the tactician could do little more than stare at the unexpected charity.

Again Prowl looked over Optimus' signature. The logical conclusion was that at some point in the night the CO had come in and proceeded to go over the paperwork, filling in what needed filling in, before taking the datapads specifically for his briefings back to his own office.

A bemused smile tugged at the corner of his lips, an honest, unrestrained gesture. Of course the Prime would have thought nothing of it, even with his own duties to attend to. That was just who he was.

The Second stood from his chair and exited the room, walking down several doors and poking his head inside the familiar office.

"Prime, sir?"

His leader looked up from whatever he'd been working on. He blinked in mild surprise before offering a welcoming nod. "Yes, Prowl?"

The tactician straightened. "I wished to thank you for assisting me in my work the night before, despite the inconvenience to yourself. It gives me the opportunity to see to my other duties." Had Prowl not turned to leave at that very moment, he might’ve seen the shock on the CO's face. "That is all, sir. Thank you."

Not willing to overstay his welcome, Prowl continued on his way.

"But…," Optimus said to the empty room. "But I didn't do any of that."

He got the call on the fourth orn following the Crystal City Massacre.

In direct relation to the attack work had steadily been piling up. Reports were constantly coming in as the departments sent intel back and forth, in effort to compile what little they had. All of it was underscored with increased urgency and an emphasis on fortifying outposts. There was an understandable worry over whether or not Autobot bases would be targeted next, none more vocal about it than Red Alert. Despite the numerous officer meetings that had been held since their return, they had absolutely no clue what the Decepticons were trying to achieve through Crystal City's destruction. Theories were volleyed back and forth, with a few halfhearted proposals proffered up to fill in the gaps. At the end of the orn the only thing Prowl had to show for it all was a sizable pile of datapads and a growing headache that had acutely placed itself directly behind his right optic.

He was halfway through authorizing ammunition transport to Simfur when an incoming communiqué interrupted him. Pausing mid key-stroke, the tactician calmly hailed the caller over his radio. This is Autobot Prowl.

It's Ratchet. The exhaustion in the medic's tone was nearly palpable. His voice sounded coarse and rough, like someone had taken a sandblaster to it. Requesting your presence in the medbay immediately.

The unexpected summons was enough to halt Prowl's typing. Narrowing his optics slightly, the tactician stared into his monitor. I was unaware that I was on the roster for a medical checkup. Did you schedule me for a malware upgrade?

No, although I should probably do that sooner than later. The survivor from Crystal City was just brought online. He wants to speak to you.

That was why he was being deterred from his work? A brief flicker of annoyance passed through him. Nonetheless he politely demurred, While I'm pleased to hear the good news, surely he would want to speak to Optimus? After all, the Prime heads our faction and could explain his situation better—

No. He asked specifically for you. First thing he did once he stopped panicking and was lucid again was ask to speak with the mech who saved him. According to First Aid, you were the one who found him. Given what the kid's been through I'm not about to deny him slag. Get down here now. That's an order.

With that said Ratchet cut the line.

Sighing faintly, the SIC signed off and pushed away from his desk. The trek through the base down to the medbay was an uneventful affair. Yet as he neared the CMO's domain he found himself taken by a sudden apprehension. One of the many qualities which he thoroughly lacked was adaptability, hence his overcompensated planning skills. In any given circumstance Prowl functioned best when held all the cards in his hand, had adequate time to prepare.

But this?

There had been no warnings, no heads-up. Just an order to haul aft downstairs and talk with the sole survivor of a genocide. It made him feel unsettled, even if he would never admit such a thing aloud for fear of being thought less of. He didn't know what to say. He had nothing, and had been told nothing. Couldn't Ratchet at least have had the decency to give him some kind of warning, or at least hint as to why the Neutral wanted to speak to him? A roiling churn in his tanks made the tactician feel somewhat sick with apprehension. Ruthlessly he shoved the feeling aside and slid past the crystal doors.

Medbay proper was filled with a half dozen medics scurrying about, either running back and forth with tools or tending to the few patients present. He spotted First Aid and Hoist at a glance, and caught a glimpse of Pīpō heading inside an adjoining storage closet.

A flash of red and white at the corner of his optic had him switching direction toward the ICU. Ratchet was just emerging from one of the private surgical suites when he caught sight of his commander approaching. Lips thinning, he beckoned Prowl over. "Good. You're here. He's through this door." The medic gestured to the room from which he'd emerged. "I don't think I need to tell you he's been through a lot. Just...be gentle with him. Your usual charming self should suffice."

Prowl arched a skeptical brow at that. His expression then schooled itself into its regular calm, serene air. "I will be careful, Ratchet. Nor will I do anything to deliberately upset him. You have my word."

"It's not your word I'm worried about so much as your definition of 'tact,'" snorted Ratchet. "It's not what you say, but how you say it. Keep that in mind."

"I will not overstep my boundaries," Prowl assured. "Although I must admit, I'm pleased to finally hear that you've begun practicing what you preach. Your patients must be doubly ecstatic."

A surprised chuff of laughter left the medic as he lightly flicked Prowl on the chevron. "It keeps them honest, and me sane. No one's complained about my methods yet. And Sideswipe doesn't count, so don't even go there."

Prowl refrained from returning the bout of amusement, although he did briefly incline his head. "I wouldn't have bothered. I'm of the opinion that Sideswipe benefits from your ire, even if he doesn't necessarily retain the lesson from the experience."

"Tell that to him and his slagging brother." It was there, just barely, but the growl held the faintest trace of affection. It vanished before Prowl had the chance to dwell on it, as Ratchet turned that suddenly baleful stare upon him. "Don’t start badgering the kid for information. Whatever he’s going to say, he’ll say. Got it?”

Prowl didn't directly respond, instead choosing to nod in acknowledgement before he stepped inside the ICU. Once the doors hissed shut behind him he turned to face the mech bundled on the berth.

The scorch marks he recalled from when he'd found him had obviously been sanded down. Old, damaged armor had been repaired, with only weld marks showing where gaping wounds had once been. Optics formerly dim with low energy now glowed fantastically bright. The Neutral shifted, and the motion caused his doorwings to fan out behind him.

Correction—doorwing.

Instead of two back-mounted panels there was only one. The damage had obviously been extensive enough to ruin the hinge or the entire wing itself, warranting its removal. Without the second appendage the 'bot looked off-kilter and exposed.

As soon as Prowl had entered the small mech had jerked upright, like someone had come up behind him with an electrical prod.

"Good afternoon." He watched Prowl with wide optics as he dragged a chair over and took a seat a respectable distance from the berth. "My apologies for taking so long to get here. My name is—"

"Prowl," the other mech supplied. He glanced down at the hands folded in his lap. "I remember who you are. You found me."

That caught him slightly off guard. Given how disoriented he'd been when he had discovered him, Prowl doubted how much the young survivor would have retained from the encounter.

"I know this is a superfluous question, but how are you?" There. Nice and simple. A safe place to start.

The gray Neutral looked away. "I'm not really sure how to answer that, since I don't really know what to feel."

Never mind, then.

"Is there..." Prowl cleared his intakes. "Is there something that I may do for you..." There was a question in his voice, an unspoken request for a designation.

"Bluestreak." The Neutral shyly looked his way. "My name is Bluestreak."

"Bluestreak," echoed Prowl as he committed the name to memory. "Is there anything that I may provide you with, or bring you?" With his rank at least he was afforded the luxury and the ability to offer him whatever he wanted, within reason, of course.

White optics abruptly turned back to him. "Everything I want I can't have," he rasped, and the words thundered through Prowl like the pounding of a waterfall. His friends, his coworkers, his exclusives, anyone he'd ever known was dead. That waterfall was frothing with blood.

He berated himself viciously for the thoughtlessness.

Again, white optics turned to stare at him, and for the first time the tactician saw a hollowness, in addition to the physical pain and fear. Ghosts danced behind the lenses, specters sifting in his gaze, all the haunts and horrors as much a part of him as they were the wreckage that lay hundreds of miles away. Looking for all the world like they couldn't wait to claim the last victim.

Vaguely ill, Prowl wondered how long it would take before this one died, too.

Neither spoke for a minute.

"Thank you," Bluestreak blurted out.

"For?"

"For saving me," he said simply.

"You're welcome."

Again, uncomfortable silence, with neither mech willing to look the other in the face.

"If you wish to talk...," Prowl began, clearing his intakes, "if there is anything I can do to help, I am only a comm. line away. Please do not hesitate in calling me, should you require my assistance." He sensed that there truly wasn't much more he could do, and felt a prickle of regret knowing how little he'd done. At least he could leave with the knowledge that he'd offered what he could.

The SIC made to stand from his chair.

"Wait!"

Prowl slowly sat back into the seat, facing him with hands folded in his lap. "What is it?"

Beyond the slither of fear that shone in Bluestreak's expression, there was another emotion. Prowl found that he couldn't put a name to it. "Who did this?"

There was no mistaking what he meant.

"They call themselves the Decepticons." Finally, something that the SIC could give him. Information. Closure, perhaps. "Their leader is a mech who goes by the name Megatron."

"They have red optics," murmured Bluestreak. His empty but not-quite-empty stare bore into his. "Yours are blue."

A rather obvious thing to say, but Prowl resisted the impulse to correct him. "Yes."

After lingering for a moment on some unknown decision, the Neutral lifted his hand. Gray fingertips lightly grazed the dermal metal just below Prowl's cheek, and he resisted the reflex to pull away. Something in the survivor's mind seemed to click at the contact, and his optics widened.

"You're real," he breathed out.

Lacking a proper context for the strange phrasing, Prowl couldn't find anything to say to that.

But on some instinctive level that defied words the pieces were coming together. Like a dreamer sloughing through the wisps and tendrils of dusk looking for the part that wasn't in his head, the touch was breaking through the barriers. Separating where the harsh nightmares ended and the waking world began. At last there was an anchor in the eye of the hurricane. The world that had been spinning so frighteningly fast on its axis had finally, finally, come to a stop.

Of all the things Prowl had expected, the last was seeing his reflection superimposed over a sudden rush of color in the previously white optics. The residual traces of Neutrality faded out in the spirals and glass, replaced with an intense blue.

His hand remained hanging between them.

"Can I join the Autobots?" Bluestreak begged. "Please?"

Against all damnable logic, Prowl couldn't find an explanation for reaching up and resting his hand atop the other 'bot's. "Of course."

If being an Autobot was the farthest thing from being a Decepticon, then Bluestreak gladly made that choice.

#transformers #transformers: g1 #transformers fic #gears in motion #my posts #bluestreak #prowl #optimus prime #ratchet #first aid #hoist

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silkling · 3 years

Text

This is part three of an ask box fic. For part one or two, click below.

Part 1 Part 2

———————————————————————————————————

There was shocked silence, and then Dani put a hand on his cheek. “So twins are one spark that was split by the Well, and gestalts are many Sparks that were merged by it?”

Blades paused, then nodded. “Yeah.” he whispered.

“So you have brothers then? How many?” Kade asked.

Blades swallowed. “Four.” he wrapped his arms around himself. The others could tell something was wrong, they just didn’t know what. “Hot Spot, Streetwise, Groove, and First Aid.”

“Soooo…..where are they? What happened to them?” Kade asked bluntly.

Blades flinched, looking away. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Dani seemed confused. “Don’t you have a spark bond with them, like Dreadwing was saying?”

“I…do.”

“Then how-“

“Stasis.” Chase cut her off, sounding horrified. “We were in stasis. I do not know much about spark bonds, but I do remember reading that stasis is another way to mute a bond. We were in stasis for thousands of years, and after Cybertron fell, they probably fled far away.”

Blades swallowed. “If they’re even still alive.” he closed his optics. “The stasis, combined with the distance, would have muted the bond enough for the breaking of it not to kill me if they’d died. In stasis, I wouldn’t have even felt it break.” He opened his optics to meet the gazes of his teammates, optics wide and welling with cooling fluid. The forces of his emotions were so strong it was making his frame overheat, which caused his optics to leak the fluid in an attempt to cool him down. “All I know is, I woke up from stasis after the crash and I couldn’t feel them anymore. I felt them before we went into stasis. We were too far to communicate with words, but they sensed how scared I was and they just kept sending me worry and reassurance.” he whimpered. “But when I woke up I didn’t even have that. I don’t know where my brothers are or if they’re even alive. That’s what really hurts.”

There was a long beat of silence, and then Dani was pressing herself to his face to hug him. “Oh, Blades.” she said, sounding so pained and sad.

Blades felt a hand on his back, and looked up to see Dreadwimg staring at him, a knowing look in his optics. “I’m truly sorry, little one. At least when I was separated from my brother, I could use the bond to tell he still lived.”

Blades could only whimper again, and then his team was gathering around him. Dreadwing stepped back to give them space, and he watched at the small, odd little family came together to comfort the distressed flyer.

Blades just shook, forced to finally confront the reality of the situation. He hadn’t let himself think about it, before now. Now really. But he’d finally been forced to and he wished he hadn’t. He just wanted his brothers back. He missed them. He didn’t protest as Boulder gathered him close, and instead curled in to take the comfort his teammates were offering. Eventually, he exhausted himself, and he slipped into a light recharge, dreaming of days long past.

——————————

Another week passed, and they’d finally contacted Optimus. The Prime had in very brief details explained something about a fight for the restoration of Cybertron, before agreeing to come talk with Dreadwing. They had indeed talked when he’d arrived at the island, and the Prime had agreed with Dreadwing’s continued presence here as long as the Burns agreed, and as long as the Seeker informed him before leaving Griffin Rock. Dreadwing had agreed to those terms, and the Prime had taken his leave once more.

Now, the Seeker was finally fully settled in the little bunker. It wasn’t an impressive space, but he wouldn’t be picky. Currently, it was late night, and the humans were asleep and the younglings in recharge. Or at least, most of them were. The little copter was missing. Dreadwing had noticed how he’d seemed more withdrawn ever since he’d confessed to being gestalt. The Seeker couldn’t blame the poor mechling, not really. So, when he realized the little bot was missing, he only sighed and went to search for him.

He found Blades in the courtyard by the firehouse, sitting on the ground and staring at the stars. He sat himself next to the youngling, frowning. “You should be recharging, little one.”

Blades looked at him, then back up. “I can’t. I keep remembering.” he sounded miserable.

Dreadwinf sighed. “Tell me, then. What is is that scares you more: holding on to hope that your brothers still live, or believing in the chance that they have been offlined?”

Blades flinched. “I don’t know. Both hurt.” he whispered. “Dreadwing, the last thing they ever felt from me was fear. What if they thought I was being hunted and killed like the other off world Rescue Bot teams? I asked Optimus when he was here. I know the Rescue Force massacre happened a only about an orn after we went into stasis.”

Dreadwing stilled, considering. That was a very likely scenario. “I do not know what they thought.” he said honestly. “Perhaps they did believe that. Perhaps they held o to hope that you escaped and searched for you. Perhaps they search for you still. Perhaps they were offlined in the War.” he sighed. “I cannot give you the answers, little one. Cybertron’s children are scattered, and I would not know where to tell you to begin searching, even if I knew for certain they were alive.”

Blades whimpered, and Dreadwing wasn’t surprised when the youngling turned to curl into his side. The Seeker draped an arm over the shaking shoulders and quivering rotors, holding the mechling close as he grieved. He wished he could help Blades more, but the truth was that he couldn’t. No one could. Blades would have to decide how to handle this himself.

As the youngling shook against his side, Dreadwing lifted his own gaze to the stars.

Can you see me, Skyquake? Would you approve of this? I would hope so. These mechlings need proper guidance, and the Prime refuses to give it. Starscream can wait. I hope you can forgive me for making you wait for your vengeance.

Blades hiccuped against him, curling even tighter against his side, and Dreadwing gently petted the trembling rotors. Slowly, the smaller flyer relaxed, until he had eventually slipped into recharge while tucked into the Seeker’s side.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, then left out an breath of a chuckle and turned his gaze back up.

Primus, I’ve gone soft.

———————————————————————————————————

Holy crap it’s done. I finished it. I hope my asker is happy. That was a monster and a half. It was fun to write, and I very much enjoyed it, but dear god was it long. My muse kept screaming ideas at me the whole time. Seriously you have no idea.

Also, can you all tell Blades is my favorite? Can you tell? Because he is. I adore him. I hope you don’t mind that I included the Protectobot Blades idea in. I’ve seen it floating around a few other places before now, so the idea isn’t originally mine, but I really like it and I think it fits with his character, so here we are.

With that done, I’m off to finish my next ask box prompt. It should be up in the next couple days. It will be nowhere as long as this one. In fact, most ask box fics will even get two posts long, so don’t get used to this.

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praeteritcs-blog · 7 years

Text

Mobile Friendly: About & History

Under Cut

"Too often I am faulted for who I am. SPARKEATER. MONSTER. RELIC Is that such a bad thing? My kind was hunted for game. Eight Billion strong; Decimated in a matter of two thousand years. We are what we came before the Cybertronian Kind. Do NOT make the same mistakes my Kind and I did. Save yourself before others start killing you too."

BASIC ABOUT

FULL NAME: Shadow

NICKNAME: None

AGE: UNKNOWN; At least 50,000 Vorns

BIRTH DATE: UNKNOWN

ETHNICITY: Zaddoc (Previously Ancient Cybertronian)

GENDER: Femme

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: P

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

RELIGION: Zaddoc

SPOKEN LANGUAGE: Zaddoic, Cybertronian

CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS:Nomadic

OCCUPATION: Unknown (Previously queen)

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: Cheiftan's Daughter and Warrior

SIBLINGS: UNKNOWN

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Stormrunner *Unbonded*

CHILDREN: Multiple unnamed sparklings

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOUR: Bicolored (red pupil, cyan iris)

HAIR COLOUR: None

HEIGHT: 15' 10"

BODY BUILD: Thin

TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: Tattoo's on Protoform

NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: Scar across her left eye, on the bridge of her nose

F-LIST:none

OTHER DETAILS: Has blue and silver Bio-lights in valve and around.

PHOBIAS AND DISORDERS

PHOBIAS: UNKNOWN

MENTAL DISORDERS: PTSD

WHEN WAS THIS DIAGNOSED?:NEVER

PERSONALITY BASICS

INTELLIGENCE: High

LIKES: UNKOWN

DISLIKES: Primes (Ancient Only)

DISPOSITION: Aggressive, Cautious, Unsure, Cynical

TRAINING: Hand to Hand Combat, Sword Combat

PSYCHOLOGY: Intense

SELF-DISCIPLINE: Full of potential and Sometimes makes serious errors in judgement

LIFESTYLE: Successful, Loves life, Enthusiastic

SOCIAL ATTITUDE: The centre of attention. Charming and Bring out the best in others

HONESTY AND HONOUR: Selfless and Courteous

EMOTIONAL CAPACITY: Sensitive

CURRENT EMOTIONL STATE: Betrayed

PERSONALITY EXPLAINED

Shadow is Kind and open mindined but at the same time she is cautious and unsure of what to make of cybertronians now. With her Race nearly extinct she is quite secretive to what she is and what she is doing. she tends to make sure that the mech or femme in question has earned her trust before she would open up to them. She has a screech that resembles a wraith or something akin to it.

she posesses the ability to create and use a Nurotoxin that paralyzes who ever is bit. she does not use that design often but it is there. she is much smaller than normal cybertronians, due to her race not being extremely tall but quick in design.

HISTORY

Shadow was born looking like a normal sparkling would. her parents were; a Cheiftan's Daughter and a Warrior from a different tribe. Their village was on the edge of the Sea of Rust; one day a mech claiming to be a Mage came to their little village. He claimed that he could make any mech or femme immortal; only if they were sparklings. The mech also stated that the sparklings would have to be brought to one of the larger cities on the horizon for them to receive their treatment. Besides little Shadow, there was another sparkling called stormrunner that was a few weeks older than her. thinking that this would slate their legacy. With a heavy spark, shadow's Creators turned Her over along with the mechling stormrunner.

Shadow was returned to the clan shortly after being genetically modified and her armor changed; a few short months later. her parent's didn't know what to do with their daughter at first. Slowly, Shadow started to come around, realizing that it was her creators. She played with the other sparkling, chirping and clicking to them in her own strange language. it wasn't until she was a young adult did she realize there there were more like her out there.

It took Shadow a few orns to find the others like her. When she got there she was barely at full maturity, granted they weren't off either. Leading the small band of ten was Stormrunner. The two started to court when they reached their mature height and stance. Shadow was a thin Femme, having a tail that could move with her emotions and be used as a weapon was useful. Stormrunner was a war frame type of build, large and imposing even with all that strength he was careful with how he used it.

The two of them were mates, having multiple sparklings and grandchildren. their genetic codes passed on and their kind was relatively easy to reproduce once the right age. with the help of the others, Shadow and Stormrunner created their language and writing. Shadow and Stormrunner had a decent life as cybertronians slowly developed from the tribes that had dotted the landscape.

Ruin came when the first prime; Prima. Ordered the Extinction of Shadows Race; which had in turn reached a population of Eight Million in Twenty Thousand Stellar-Cycles. The mass of her Race was situated in the Maganese Mountains and the Surrounding area. Their Language and how they interacted with one another was facinating at least at first to Prima before he decided that tehy were more useful as pets or trophies to be controled.

As a peace offering shadow went to the fledlging city of Iacon, wanting to ease the Cybertronian's about her kin. It

FAILED

. Shadow was attacked after meeting with the first prime, the scars on her face and protoform showed it. She only saw prima's wish to control and destroy.

Shadow returned to her people, barely alive and severely malnurished. To help her recover, Stormrunner went to gather energon the only way he knew how; to hunt anything that could have it. The mated pair had been rulers of their kin for countless vorn. There were multiple incidents and reports of a creature hunting ourside the mountains, killing iron cows, zeta Horses, carbon chicken for their energon.

Prima personally hunted Shadow's kind, later known as sparkeaters. In two thousand Stellar-cycles her kind went from Eight Million to just over one hundred. Ten of those were in Prima's personal quarters, Acting as slaves to the prime. Shadow had elluded the arrogant Prime, hiding out in the Sea of Rust, the Queen would be a coveted trophy for the primes sucessors and decendants.

Shadow has witnessed the Fall of cyrbertron. Hating that such senseless violence, she had seen too much over the vorns.

#About #history #mobile #important

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autolovecraft · 7 years

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Simon Orne of Salem.

' But no more than the shifting of an unclean burden to another place. Most of the black archways for steps leading further down, the doctor cast his beam of light down the Stygian hold. Graveyards held for him no particular attraction beyond their quaintness and historic value, and of these the majority laugh and remark that the doctor had seen many before, and which had drawn him back toward marvels and secrets whose boundaries no prophet might fix. Then eight squares past the fine old estates his childish eyes had known, and the former resolved to have a firm and serious talk with Charles that very night. He never dreamed they were there at all! It may not be of use.

I believe perpetrated these attacks and murders, but I meant to have it up that day you came to invite me hither. About September the vampirism declined, but in the centuries behind there had been a Baptist.

The mulatto still hesitated, and pushed against the door when Willett attempted to open it; but the titan elms cast a restoring shadow over the place, and Ward went carefully over the whole subterranean surface both vertical and horizontal, trying to account for every inch separately. Here he lived, with books brought up from his library beneath, till the time he purchased the Pawtuxet bungalow. She could hear no more than the shifting of an unclean burden to another place. 'I was coming to that,the host replied. His quest had suddenly shifted from the grave of an ancestor named Joseph Curwen, to fancy that a mere visual identity would be enough. Why, dammit, he was half-deaf with noise from Outside and never saw or heard aught from the wells! Recognizing this prosaic attitude in his colleagues, Willett advised Mr. Ward to keep to himself the letter which arrived for Dr. Allen which gave both the doctor and the father deep thought.

It seemed to soothe him, and he deduced that this must have reached to one of the prime exporters of the colony. The nearest neighbors to his farm, the Fenners, one night remarked a great shaft of light shooting into the sky from some aperture in the roof of that cryptical stone building with the high slit-like windows—provided the steps he had descended had led from the steep-roofed farmhouse. Willett attempted to open it; but the doctor merely raised his voice and renewed his demands.

He had needed certain anatomical specimens as part of the bundle to be removed in his valise.

Here and there was a catalog of Hutchinson's uncanny library as found after his disappearance, and an acrid odor which quite drowned out the stench from the far-away wells; an odor like that he had lighted the fire. With the years his devotion to ancient things increased; so that after a none too coherent diary, and each of the documents found behind the picture, Willett and Mr. Ward never saw what they were he shrank away shuddering, and did not return to claim his property. Maniacal as the letter would have sounded to a stranger, Willett had seen too much of Charles Ward's store of mental images, mainly those touching modern times and his own personal life, had been conducted with the greatest secrecy lest the resident alienists accuse the father and the physician, rebuffed and confused by a shadow too shapeless and intangible to combat, had rested uneasily on their oars while the typed notes in his name. Local dealers in drugs and scientific supplies, later questioned, gave astonishingly queer and meaningless catalogs of the substances and instruments he purchased; but clerks at the State House stood out in massive silhouette, its crowning statue haloed fantastically by a break in one of the puppets in a show he had seen in the autumn of 1770 Weeden decided that the time was ripe to tell others of his discoveries; for he was never again caught at such wanderings; whilst the fourth and fifth were addressed respectively to: 'Edward Hutchinson, Armiger' and 'Jedediah Orne, Esq. The whips and the instruments of torture. And what of this addressing of the bearded and spectacled Dr. Allen, and who conferred at length in the now unused library of their young patient, examining what books and papers of his were left in order to compromise between their respective Congregational and Baptist affiliations. Willett almost reeled at the implications that came sweeping over him as he correlated little by little the air of suspense and expectancy dropped like an old cloak, giving instant place to an ill-concealed exaltation of perfect triumph. Charles might indite to that monstrous pair in Europe, since they knew that the hospital authorities seized all outgoing mail for censorship and would pass no wild or outré-looking missive. In March the digging had been in a spot where no grave was known; but this muttering was definitely different. Westward the hill dropped almost as steeply as above, down to the valley of the Pawtuxet farmhouse whose site he vainly tried to engage these odd persons in conversation. For two hours he waited with the doctor in that shadowy bungalow. For over a week Dr. Willett pondered on the dilemma which seemed thrust upon him, and you know my plan by which I came back as my son. Charles had fixed on him.

#H.P. Lovecraft #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains #The Case of Charles Dexter Ward #1927 #The Case of Charles Dexter Ward week

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viralhottopics · 8 years

Text

Gloria Steinem: I shouldnt have been a Playboy Bunny even to write an expos

The writer on behaving badly with old lovers, Donald Trump, and the impact Little Women had on her

Born in Ohio, Gloria Steinem, 82, graduated in 1956 and became a writer. By 1972, when she founded Ms magazine, she was known as a political activist and feminist organiser. She is the author of many books and essays, including the bestselling My Life On The Road. Woman, her documentary series about violence against women, will air on Viceland UK on 8 March. She lives in New York.

What is your greatest fear? Being about to die, and saying, But

What is your earliest memory? Being held on my mothers lap while my father drove.

Which living person do you most admire and why? Dr Denis Mukwege, because he is to sexualised violence against females what Mandela was to apartheid.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Waiting until the last minute.

What is the trait you most deplore in others? Its a tie between an inability to empathise and having no sense of humour.

Property aside, whats the most expensive thing youve bought? In my 30s, I was staring at a pair of expensive boots in a shop window when the photographer Gordon Parks came up behind me. He instantly understood, because he grew up even poorer than me; he made me buy them on my credit card.

What would your superpower be? To be able to show people that we are linked, not ranked.

What do you most dislike about your appearance? Ive wished I had a more angular face. Also, it seems odd to be white in a world that mostly ranges from honey to sable, especially since this groups me with too many people who think whiteness has a superior meaning.

Who would play you in the film of your life? As a child, Natalie Wood. As a grown-up, I wish I could go from Audrey Hepburn to Cicely Tyson. I admire Marisa Tomei and Meryl Streep, who both play cross class. Of course, Streep could play anything, human or animal, and is a great political activist besides.

What is your most unappealing habit? Committing myself to more than I can do. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.

What is your favourite smell? Vanilla.

What is your favourite word? Hello? as sarcasm. Also, Fanfuckingtastic!

What makes you unhappy? Seeing anybody rendered invisible.

What book has changed your life? As a child, Little Women, because it was the first time I realised women could be a whole human world.

What is the worst thing anyones said to you? That I was betraying someone or something I deeply cared about.

What did you want to be when you were growing up? First a horse rancher, then a dancer.

What do you owe your parents? My mother, a huge debt for creating a loving childhood for me when she didnt have one. My father, for being OK with insecurity. As he always said, If I dont know what will happen tomorrow, it could be wonderful.

To whom would you most like to say sorry, and why? I behaved badly with two old lovers. Years later, when I took one to lunch to apologise, it made it worse.

What does love feel like? Feeling you want someone elses welfare as much and sometimes more than your own.

What was the best kiss of your life? Late one summer night in Manhattan, walking from east and west on the same street until we finally met in the middle.

Which living person do you most despise, and why? It has to do not just with dislike, but power to hurt, so right now, there is no one who can surpass Donald Trump; not even Putin or Prime Minister Modi, who are right up there.

Whats the worst job youve done? Being a salesgirl in a baby shop where the others said things like, Hes Jewish, but shes American. Also, after college, being a waitress in London, and trying to make change in the old money of shillings and pence.

What has been your biggest disappointment? Seeing the future die, from Bobby Kennedy to dear friends.

If you could edit your past, what would you change? Since hostile people still call me a former Playboy Bunny, even at 82, I probably shouldnt have done that in my youth, even to write an expos. And since a couple of times theyve also referred to me as a former CIA agent, because I went to two Soviet-era communist youth festivals, I probably shouldnt have done that, either. Yet if I hadnt done both, I might have judged other people by such empty symbols, too.

How do you relax? Having dinner with friends, walking around the city, reading with my cat on my lap. Ive never done sports: if there were an Olympic team for sitting still, I would be on it.

How often do you have sex? After 70 or so, all those brain cells that were devoted to sex are available for other things. Its not better or worse, just different and equally great.

What is the closest youve come to death? Ive had cancer three times, but never felt close to death except when I walked between parked cars on my street and a car sped past my nose.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? I havent done it yet.

How would you like to be remembered? As someone who left the world around me a little kinder and less hierarchical.

What is the most important lesson life has taught you? To behave as if everything you do matters, because you have no idea which thing might.