HUNTER [.viii]
Title: HUNTER
Fandom: Transformers
Rated: NC-17
Wordcount: 6914
Pairing: -
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Violance. Robo-gore. Cybertronians with double equipage, period. Reference to past torture. Angst. Devcon in all his glitchy glory.
Disclaimier: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: HUNTER is set in G1 contuinity, exploring Universe 03's take upon "Devcon the Bounty Hunter." It's also my first NaNoWriMo story, which rounded 162+ pages. The story follows Devcon from the end of issue Enter the Wreckers - Betrayal and through The Wreckers - Disclosure to meet up with canon at the start of Wreckers Finale 1. [ Prologue]. [ i]. [ ii]. [ iii]. [ iv]. [ v]. [ vi]. [ vii]
ACID
.VIII
The question was on repeat in Devcon’s processor as he moved out of the huge elevator. Behind him, Caliper walked along with Prisma, whose hovering engines grated on Devcon’s audios and sensors. Acid came last, guarding her back, keeping a watchful optic upon Devcon and the tunnel both.
The hunter walked ahead, scouting, putting some distance between them. He was doing his best to ignore the constant itch that a certain pair of optics caused against his back. It was hard, specially with his programming accomodating to this rather specific hunt. He could taste Caliper’s excitement, could feel the current of air Prisma’s engines scattered about.
Above else, and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, was the weight of Acid’s optics upon his back.
On the way down, a talk of plans had happened. Acid had joined the discussion, sharing bits and odds about the mercs, but hadn’t spoken directly to the hunter. Devcon imagined Prisma prefered it that way, but he didn’t like it. The big mech had restricted himself to answer questions and never came with suggestions or any kind of initiative. He was a tool, basically a drone, but slag it.
Whatever Prisma had done, was far worse than the stunt Rois Hro had pulled.
The captain hadn’t bothered pretending ever since he confronted her with it either. Instead, she’d made sure he would think of her as a threat. Devcon wasn’t stupid. He already knew she meant to capture him later on, once he’d been of use. That slag about him being too difficult to control? Lies, through and through. He still remembered that touch, the cold sensation that came with it, and the absolute obedience it demanded.
Frag…
He cycled a slow intake, refusing to give Prisma the pleasure of seeing him worry. He would keep his poker-face on, and rig his processor every slaggin’ firewall he knew of. This thing? Warfare of a different kind - she’d made her draw, was waiting for him to make his. Too bad he meant to play by different rules. Until he could find what he needed, however, he was stuck with her. What happened once both got what they wanted… Well, it would involve bombs and a lot of reckless flying, that much he already knew.
For time being, they needed each-other. Stale mate. He could deal with this card and better than the captain. He was good at this slag, lived for the thrill of it. This was hardly the first time he’d been between caught between a rock and a hard place. Mastering himself, he rolled his shoulders and let his sensors extend, feel everything.
Tracker protocols activated, enhancing his senses, Devcon moved with a predators ease. On his way into a bigger danger, chasing a mech who could pull so many strings, the trail confused the slag out of him, Devcon still remained a hunter at spark. His own fear tasted delicious, but what tasted even the better, was Acid’s tightly controlled panic.
It was there, held under something else. Something Devcon’s hunter programming had caught the scent of the first time they’d locked optics. He growled, cycling a deep intake, tasting emotions that had been tempered with, but not erased. A question rose in the back of his helm; if Acid truly was under Prisma’s control, why did he stare? If he was completely under her spell, why did his gaze find its way to him?
The hunter rolled his shoulders and stretched, feeling the smuggler’s gaze upon him like a timid caress. There was something deeper too, not just panic, but need. Deep, throbbing need, laced with want and desperation. It filled him, made his programming growl. He almost turned, almost responded to it, almost pushed Acid into the wall, taking what-
Woooha, hunter. Down, mech…
That… was the wrong approach to it. Also, slaggin’ worrying. He was glitching. Oh, for frag’s sake, he should have gotten ’faced before embarking upon this trip. Not that he could have guessed there would be a walking piece of hunk, staring at him, something within him just asking for his attention. Slag it to the Pit! Torn between dissatrous attraction - because, he reminded himself, distractions are bad things in hunt - and his current mission, this might just explode in his face.
He grit his denta and ignored the looks, knowing the silent ex-merch. Acid was spoken for; drone, slave… lover? Whatever he was, he was bound to Prisma and Devcon already gotten the memo. Acid was a possesion, a weapon. He silentely congratulated her. The ex-merc was a splendid choice.
A part of Devcon was sorely tempted to relieve her of her toy. Kill it, more precicely, since she sooner or later would unleash Acid on him. Of that, he had little doubt. She’d picked a close range combatant, bigger than him, stronger. While Devcon had fought bigger mechs, he always made sure of keep the slag out of the ground. Down here, he had no place to escape, no matter how fast he flew. And if Acid gained the upper hand, pinning him to the ground with those spikes, he would end up just like him.
Quantum tunneling, that’s what she had called it. He had no expertise in that area. He wouldn’t be able to fight her off, not if she left a bit of herself in him… Aw, smelt. She’d touched him. Did that mean she could control him? Was she doing it already? He doubted it, since his HUD had been running scans for the better of a Solar. Nothing alien, no hidden sub-routines rnning. No virus.
No nothing.
The sound of Prisma’s voice floated towards him, and Devcon’s optics narrowed, catching up on their conversation. Captain and hacker, happily chatting about their lost crew-mate, behaving as if nothing was amiss. Planning a raid, exchanging small memories of the mech he’d help them get back. The very picture of innocence, right?
Devcon felt his lips curl into a vicious smile as Acid’s panic deepened at the mention of something nobot would get suspiscious of. That confirmed it; they were communicating in codes. He’d expected as much, and just as he guessed, they’d been counting on him being oblivious of it. Biting down on a chuckle, he pulled his sensors back, kept them tightly around his frame, but not before sampling the ex-merc’s dread one last time.
Acid had warned him, or what ever that was left of him under the compulsion of following Prisma’s orders. He was completely submissive to her and that brought yet another question to his equation; how much of it was Prisma’s doing? omThe poor slagger coudln’t have known, a bad Acid had already warned him. Sometimes, he mused, not even knowing about it. He’d already seen how submissive Acid was, the question was; how much of it was Prisma’s doing? Was the poor bastard even aware of her control?
Was Acid fighting it?
Once this mess was over, perhaps he should repay Prisma with his own brand of justice. Pretty as a flower, and so very neat. Competent, business-like. A small snarl followed, but Devcon kept his foul mood in check. The femme was safe for now, since he would gain nothing by killing her. Nor would he attack her, unless she forced him into a corner. If he played his hand correctly, he’d be out before she commanded Acid to take him down.
Devcon cycled a deep intake. Get in, find the lead. Get out. Let nothing - not even Acid - stand in his way. That was the plan, and a solid one. He nodded and put the ex-merc and his captain out of his processor. He would deal with all that slag later on. He needed to concentrate on what lay ahead.
~
There were five other elevators, all leading to different junctions and cross-sections aligned to open rail-roads. Three levels down, past the last elevator, then acouple of open pits down the access ramp…
If the charts were updated, there were moving in the right direction. Devcon hummed under his breath and checked a miniature of the infra-structure, ignoring the warnings the local authorities had attatched to the hologram. The warnings told quite a few stories of locals being crushed, poisoned or simply torn to pieces. He snorted and scrolled past them. It had to be a joke, right?
…perhaps not.
Hard to say. The mining companies seemed to have abandoned all hope of getting more minerals out of the place. Giving the feeds a closer look, he realised that the warnings became worse for each level. This route was one somebot didn’t want others to find, or move through. If they kept it up, continued down this tunnel, they would risk renegade, glitching drones. That was what every mech thought, anyway, if the feeds were right.
Devcon and Acid had both voiced something else; mercs or slavers, not drones, would be found in the lower regions and lonesome tunnels. Prisma had congratulated them after adding a bit of her own experience with the area. The hacker had very little say, more than he would prefer glitching drones. Those he would be able to hack, at least.
Acid had replied that the drones, if they existed, would be like sentries, probably meant to warn the actual guardians of that last elevator. For some reason, Devcon had found it comical that hunters and mercs were so very alike in their processing. He would have done the same, had he been in their position. Besides, he’d always been able to understand his prey and Acid fit beautifully into the profile.
A merc no more, Acid still cut an impressive figure. Taller than Devcon by half a helm, bulky and full of sharp edges, he was a force to count with. His face, pale and serious, was adorned with an old scar across his nasal ridge. In the semi-darkness of the tunnels, his murky, watered down green paint job, let him blend in with the gloomy shadows. Prisma and the hacker had other means of staying alive, but it was obvious that they counted upon the ex-merc’s brutal strength to aid them in a tight spot.
Devcon smirked and nodded; they had a good balance going on, even if he didn’t want to dwell upon the fact that he was fraggin’ cooperating with a bunch of soft-bellied mechs again. Oh, Prisma was feral in her own way, but Lathe must be able to work miracles for her to choose to embark upon such an ill adviced adventure. That or she’d lied about them not ’facing. He shrugged and walked along.
He might just end up regretting this whole charade, but without the three smugglers coming with him, his supposed trade wouldn’t add up. Four passes, right? That-
”Do you really have enough creds for buying a slave?”
Acid’s question took Devcon by surprise and cut through his musings, putting an end to them. The hunter’s optics widened as he turned his helm, cursing himself for not having noticed how close Acid had gotten. A natural sneak, huh…? Interesting. As was the fact that Acid at all had approached him. That also answered the question whether he could talk to Devcon, captain controlling him or not. Perhaps Prisma wanted them to talk?
Either way, he held Devcon’s immediate attention.
Processor racing along, he nodded. He could feel the others watching them, but he couldn’t care less. Right now, they weren’t supposed to hide. Black Market agents would be monitoring these tunnels and it didn’t hurt if the underworld noticed the two mechs leading and guarding the smaller ones. Devcon had suggested that they walked in such a formation, but hadn’t expected Prisma to agree.
”Depends on how much the mercs expect as profit goes,” Devcon said, not even bothering to look over his shoulders. Prisma was listening, her hovering humming closer for every passing beat. ”I have enough to buy a new ship and a whole crew, plus a moon. Does that answer your question?”
The merc gone smuggler snorted, but didn’t hide his amusement very well. Devcon found himself smiling, taking longer strides to keep up with the taller mech. Ignoring the captain trailing behind them, he spent a few klikks getting an opticful of ex-merc. Extending his sensors again, biting his glossa as they enfolded the mech, Devcon tried to read him. And… there it was. His smile grew sharper, and he looked down at his thrusters.
The panic was still there, but so was something much like determination. And the same deep want, the desperate need that made Devcon’s programming glitch. He cycled an intake and dared a quick glance at the handsome face. It was strange… Under other circumstances they would have been either killing or ’facing each-other. Sadly, since both knew what would happen once Lathe was secured, this unasy truce was the best they would get.
Acid’s vocals were soft, so very deep, that Devcon had to lean closer. ”A ship? I hope you know anything about ships, mech. You’ll get swindled out of your hide otherwise.”
Devcon quickly schooled his face into something less surprised. Oh, slag… Acid actually didn’t know? He should have expected it, but it t was a low blow, not finding it necessary to inform Acid of exactly whom he was going up against. Yes, a hunter, that much the ex-merc knew, but he didn’t know Devcon’s identity. A bad move, not letting your pawn know who they were dealing with.
As he tried to find a good answer, echoes reached them, distorted by the many different tunnels they passed by. The shadows seemed darker, bigger, hiding things. He knew mercs hated his kind. Hunters, specially bounty hunters, had always rivaled with mercs when it came to a certain kind of business. He met the other mech’s gaze, dimming his optics, frowning somewhat.
”I’m not going to buy a ship, smuggler.”
A tauting grin spread in the ex-mercs face. ”Can’t blame a mech for asking if captainship is what you’re aiming for. Unless you think that the Lazy Tide is ripe for the taking?”
Behind them, Caliper snorted. Devcon shook his helm, cycling a sigh. ”Ain’t interested in that either. There are other things I prefer to have. Things you can’t really buy, no matter how much you try.”
Endless space, utter freedom.
”Well, there are those who seems to think you’d be ambitious enough. Last Haul said you might try to ursupate the captain and told me to inform you that crew won’t serve any other Cybertronian than Prisma. Trying might just get you killed.”
Devcon stopped, and so did Acid. The tension between them grew, palpable and sharp. What was this about? A warning? Some kind of a joke? Humming filled the air as Prisma hovered along. She watched Devcon with a bemused grin, letting him handle Acid all by himself. Devcon wondered if she even realised how close she was to losing her precious toy. Caliper stared in fascination as he walked pass them.
Frag the both of them. No, scratch that. Frag Acid too.
”…right. As if I’d be insane enough to trade my freedom for the bunch of you. Let’s make it clear; that ship you were stupid enough to board? It’s nothing I want. I prefer deep space and the solitude of the void. Nothing else is good enough for me. Besides, even if I went insane and went after your ship, something tells me I wouldn’t be fast enough to escape your captain’s special touch. Specially not with you as her back-up.”
Which he hadn’t meant to say… glitch.
”So you don’t want it…?”
Now something else had crawled into the ex-merc’s vocals and Devcon’s sensors latched unto a wave of strangled fear. There was wounded pride there too, and something else. Not lust, not want, but need. His base coding roared in response, sensing weakness, an easy kill. Devcon bit his glossa and fought the impuls to react accordingly to his programming. Pushing Acid into the wall and have a little taste of what hid behind those optics would be a bad, bad idea.
In a sense, he was better off like this, bottling it up. It would serve him well once a proper fight broke out. Just not here, and not now.
Acid was waiting for an answer. Devcon frowned and forced his programming back, processing quickly. A gorgeous mech, good with numbers. There would certainly be a market for such a mech. The mercs would demand a nice little heap o’ creds for him, but Devcon hadn’t been lying. In the Black Market, reputation took you further than creds and no trader or merchant would dream of haggling over Ram’s handywork.
He had the creds, and he’d get out. Before this mech had him lose his selfcontrol. He pulled his sensors back again, and for a moment, he thought he saw a shimmer in Acid’s optics. The bigger mech tilted his helm, shuddering all the sudden.
”Hunter…?”
”…all right,” Devcon breathed. ”Listen carefully. I’m not cut out for teamwork. I won’t ask your captain for a bunk, nor will I try to take her place. As soon as we’re done, I’m out. I have a hunt to take care off and no, ain’t gonna share it. It’s mine and mine only. My fraggin’ business, got that? My kill.”
And I’ll break you apart, if you stand in my way.
Perhaps it was the sheer hunger in his vocals, or even the way his frame tensed up with sweet excitement that had the ex-merch shut up. A he moved to take the lead, Devcon was lost in his own daydreams, in which Cyclonus died over and over again, and slowly.
~
Juction 58 was just around the corner when Devcon’s sensors rippled, making him stop in his tracks and alert the others.
Acid moved quickly infront of his captain, a lasercore knife in his hand. Devcon gave the weapon an apprecionate look and revved his engines. Acid shutterblinked and looked down at him, confusement written all over his face.
”Pretty little thing you’ve go there, smuggler,” Devcon purred, keeping his optics on the hall ahead. They walked at the same pace, Prisma’s engines humming away. Caliper hadn’t uttered a word during their descent, which was a good thing. He also kept his distance. Devcon guessed Prisma had been clear with her orders.
”Made to carve a mech in half,” muttered Acid.
”It’s a thing of beauty,” Devcon said softly. ”Ahead,” he continued, nodding at the upcoming junction. ”We have company.”
”How many?”
Devcon’s grin grew. ”Five. Think you are up to a dance?”
”You could let me handle this,” Prisma suggested pleasantly.
It chilled Devcon’s fuel lines to hear her say such a thing. He shook his helm. ”Frag, no… Let’s keep this simple. They attack, we fight back. They want to make business, we let them talk. They want for answers, let me answer. I’ve been ’round a fair share of systems, I’ve encountered slaveres before.”
”What if they are mercs?” Acid said.
”Then you do the talk,” Devcon replied and his smirk died away, giving place for a slight concerned look. ”Will they recognise you?”
”No, they won’t. I left the camp long ago. Most of my old crew ended up in the smelts, and I never had a rich social life to start with.”
The hunter nodded and rubbed his chin, looking at Acid’s knife. Prisma huffed as he turned to give her a flat look. Caliper took a step back, anxious of touching him. Devcon grinned and tilted his helm, taking the hacker in. Well, captain had certainly made sure to keep Caliper in a tight leash.
”Can you fight?”
It took the hacker a few klikks before he realised Devcon had spoken to him. His faceplates went dark and tinted, his hands restless.
”Yes. Lathe tought me to shoot…?”
Devcon rolled his shoulders, checking his own weapons quickly. He saw Acid do the same, then turned to Caliper with a frown. ”That’s not what I asked you,” he growled. ”What I want to know if you’ve been in a raid.”
”Three raids,” the mech answered him, keeping his optics low. ”I’ve killed trice and I’ve held my own ground.”
”Against mercs too?”
The hacker shot the ex-merc a bland look and nodded.
”What he means is that Lathe lets him train with me,” Acid shrugged. ”He’ll do okay, unless a sniper is around. Aint’t that fast, but I’ll be able to keep both him and the captain safe. That leaves you to kill whatever would get through me.”
”High praise,” Devcon murmured and turned his helm. ”Well then, time to move.”
~
The juction was empty and severly trashed. At some point there had been trains coming all the way down, but not any more. Now the place had an abandoned atmosphere, but Devcon’s tracking programm saw through the trap. Somebot had outdone himself to fool visitors.
Lovely.
”Welcome, welcome!”
Devcon’s cannon trained itself on the tall figure ahead. He flexed his fingers and kept himself from aiming with his blaster. Three, no, four mechs crawled out of the shadows, bu this proximity sensors told another tale.
No less than seven signals were spread over the spacious station. Devcon more felt than saw how Acid turned his helm towards the east; two were there. The hunter nodded and the ex-merc gave him a small, pleased grin.
”Welcome yourself,” Devcon called out. ”Now, what would such a gentlemech as yourself be doing down here?”
His vocals held a sharp tone and not so little sarcasm. The mech gave a mocking bow and put his hands upon his hips, looking a bit too pleased with himself. Must be those hidden signals that made him so cocky. Devcon purred; he liked them that way, made the killing so much sweeter. His engines thrummed as his hunter programming was activated.
”Ohh, one could ask you the same, big bot. You have any business down this tunnel?”
”Damn right, pal. I have business and if you stand there, I’ll just have to pick you apart and sell your spares to a friend of mine. She’d love to have a look at your innards.”
Acid’s grin grew wider, and he was having a hard time not laughing. Somehow, that made Devcon grin like a glitch.
”That’s big bot words, Autobot. You sure you don’t want to turn around and leave these tunnels be? Won’t ask you again, see.”
Sentries.
”More than trouble,” Acid said to his audios alone. ”We’re fighting our way through this one, aren’t we?”
Devcon nodded and Acid shifted again, their shoulder touching. It sent a nice little tingle down Decvcon spinal struts. His sensors encircled the mech as he revved his engines again. A moment later, he leaned closer, then froze as he realised what he was doing. Oh, frag. He needed to concentrate on something else…
”What do we do?” Prisma’s vocals were barely a whisper and Caliper almost clinged to her.
”We do nothing,” Devcon replied just as low. ”Acid, those two you spotted earlier? They might have long range weapons. Let me take care of them.”
”What? This wasn’t what we planned!”
”Can you move fast enough to escape snipers? Is your amour dense enough to survive lase rcores? No? Didn’t think so. Listen, their leader is trying to draw our attention from those over there. It means they are the heavy duty. I want you to throw your knife when I say so. Once you do it, there will be much happening at once. That nice cannon of yours?”
Acid nodded then tilted his helm in a silent question. ”What about it,” he said eventually.
”I want you to shot the roof. It’ll come down on them-”
”It might trap us!” Acid protested, not entirely wrong.
Devcon patted his curled fist and offered him a wicked grin. ”I can pulverise it later, pal. Just crush them and concentrate on giving Caliper time to take those still standing. I’m sure your captain can watch your back, aiming her own arsenal at their leader.”
The ex-merc made a surprised sound and regarded him with respect. He swallowed and turned to his captain, but Prisma only agreed with Devcon. The hacker seemed awed and looked like a silly glitch, staring at him with his mouth open. Devcon turned to the sentry and offered him a loopsided, cold grin.
”Know what? I’m still gonna have my little walk down the tunnels you are trying to keep me from. I may be an outlander, but I have passes and acces codes to get through those doors. If you still stand in my way, mech, then you are responsible for what happens with those under your command. Either way, I’m still taking my party to the market.”
The sentry shook his helm.
”You are not from this place. I haven’t seen you around. What makes you think the market wants you?”
”Oh, pal… It wants my creds, believe me. It wants my creds. Now, either you move or I make a short process out of this.”
Silence was all answer he got. That and the unmistakable pressure of being targeted. Devcon ran, making himself a moving target for the snipers. As long as Acid wasn’t’ at the end of their aim, allw as well. He felt rather than heard how the ceiling came down with a roar, his helm aching as the sound tore a yelp out of him.
In the distraction Acid had created, he kicked his thrusters to life and jumped up, getting airborne. He aimed both weapons at the rundown building and blasted away. He was in the line of fire for every mech right now, but moved in irregular patterns, shouting and laughing as he was zinged but not critically harmed.
Pain became sweet, just as always when his programming fully set in. He craved a fight, needed it to hurt, anything that would clear his processor.
He kept the snipers busy with his own attacks, always making sure to stay out of their aim, yet forcing them to follow him lest they wanted him to find his way into their hiding spots. He growled as one of the grounders hit his left thruster and for a moment, he lost his balance and was thrown into the ruined building. He slammed into it, groaning, pain exploading all over his frame, but managed to stay up.
Good.
There were screams from the world below, but he couldn’t see more than dust and debris exploding all over the place; Acid’s work. Caliper was keeping his own ground as well, and the captain kept the leader of the pack busy, forcing him to reatreat behind the remains of what used to be the ceiling. Devcon laughed loudly, excitement making him unpredictable as always. He was a wild card, but a fraggin’ good one.
Devcon heightened his sensors, hissing as everything become a physical sensation like nothing else; tracking devices activated, searching. His HUD informed him of the harm done to him, but Devcon ignored it pointedly. The fight wasn’t over and he would have much more than these scrapes if he didn’t manage to take the snipers down, one after the other.
He broke a window with a well aimed kick and flew out of the way; the shots that came gave him a fair angle of where they were. He felt them, could taste their fear and anger. This had not been what they expected, this could not to be! He laughed silently and hit the wall with both cannon and blaster, leaving a nice whole in which the mechs inside could have a fair chance of escape. Too bad it was three stores above the ground. Depending on how agile they were, they actually would be able to leave.
The bloodshed turnd into something to desire, to lust after. He snickered madly as the hunter’s high came over him, leaving him thirsty for more. Moving higher still, Devcon waited, blasting his signal for them to find. He shook with restrained power. Soon there would be one foolish enough…
”Where is the flyer?”
”There is no flyer! This is just a trap, don’t go near that hole!”
”For frag’s sake, Bulb lied! He said they were a bunch of weak slavers, not pros!”
”Stay put, fraggit!”
Devcon shivered and moved around the building, killing his signal. Leaving them in the dark. The wispers returned, drifting to him through cracks in the walls. He could feel their despair and the bewilderment when they lost him completely. Any moment now and they would track him by spark energy, but then he would be behind them.
There was a shriek from below as Caliper was hit, but the others would have to see to him. Devcon was tempted to fly down and have some fun, but changed his processor when he felt movement from within the building. They were moving, crawling, closer to the blasted hole. The hunter found a broken window and fired his blaster right through it, bringing down walls as he manuevered his way inside, climbing as he killed his engines. The snipers returned the fire, but Devcon was already huddled against a wall, vents filled with dust. He coughed, a hand over his mouth and refreshed his optics, sensing his quarry creep closer.
There was a buzz in the air, or rather, a frequency being used, a comm. channel. The mercs, no doubt, communcating. He grinned and bit his lower lip, tasting energon. There was the risk of them closing in on him, cornering him. He needed another strategy, one that would be explosive enough for his tatest. A beat later, he cycled as sigh. Even though he cared little for the concussion missiles, he still had them. There would be no time to doubt once they entered, but if he could detonate a couple of those and throw himself out as the building exploded, he would survive.
It was the snipers who made the dicision for him. One of them aimed in his general direction and threw a grenade. Devcon yelped and was halfway out when the other shot him squarely in the back, forcing him to turn and return fire. What he fired, however, wasn’t his blaster or his cannon; he threw a missile and ignited it with a blast from his aching turbine.
There was a scream and then pressure brought the whole damn thing down, pushing Devcon away, sending him howling out of harms way. The rumble hurt his heightened senses, scraping against his audios, frame shivering as the waves rippled and threatened to hurl him onto the ground. He barely escaped being crushed against pillar and gripped it, hiding behind it, processor almost splitting.
When silence finally settled, he managed to glide down, putting a damper on his sensors. The world return to it’s normal state, dull, tasteless, boring. He sighed and brought his hands to his helm, swallowing a moan. Frag, frag, frag…
”Hunter? You there?”
”Was he inside the building?”
”No! He’s… wait, he’s over there, by the pillar!”
Caliper and his creepy hacking. Devcon rested his arms upon his knees and made sure to calm his systems, ignoring his HUD as it flashed feeds, ran diagnostics and generally annoyed the living crap out of him. He growled and rolled his shoulders, looking up as Acid came around the pillar. The mech had seen worse Solars, Devcon was sure, him being an ex-merc and all, but for some reason, the mech beamed at him. His vocals sounded too loud for Devcon anyway and he winced when the other started.
”Primus, mech, that was beautiful!”
”I think our resident hunter is a maniac and a walking fraud,” Prisma said, laughter in her vocals, ”but yes. Brilliant!”
Devcon snorted and shook the last weakness off, checking his damaged thruster. It wasn’t more than a surface wound and that was good. Hurt like the pit, but it wouldn’t keep him grounded. A good thing, considering what he was up against. As he got onto his toes, checking his equilibrium he noticed the hacker watching him with something close to adoration.
”You… I… That was awesome!”
”I’m sure,” Devcon muttered and vented a few grains out of his midsection, touching the vents gingerly. He watched the mechs, taking in their appearence. ”Anybot hurt?”
Prisma shook her helm, getting some dust out of her face. She looked strangely out of context in this place, with debris and litter laying all over. Devcon snorted at himself; she sort of looked like a glamorous femme from old times. Classic looking, expensive lifestyle. The blaster in her hand, however, stopped any further processing along that line. She met his optics and lifted an optic ridge, pointing at the hacker.
”The leader managed to hit Caliper, but other than that, not really.”
”You all right?” The concern in Devcon’s face was real and the hacker’s optics went wide just as his faceplates became dark and tinted.
”Yeah, I… I can go on, it’s nothing, really,” Caliper murmured. ”I was mostly surprised, since he came practically out of no where.”
He shuffled his peds and looked away, suddenly shy again, albeit smiling softly. Devcon regarded him, taking in the mess the other mech had made of his shoulder.
”…right, if you say so. There will be medics in there anyway, if you need it. I wouldn’t trust them with anything too crusious, though.”
With most of the dust gone, Devcon saw the destruction he’d left behind. He whistled and shook his helm at the rubble surrounding them. He scanned the area for spark signatures but there was nothing there. Just silence and the odd boulder falling from the big hole in the ceiling the ex-merc had blasted away.
Acid stepped forward and kicked a rock out of the way. He grinned and grabbed Devcon’s shoulder. It sent a warm current all the way to his ’panel, but Devcon managed to bite down on the moan. Frag…! Thankfully, nothing else was said or asked. When the ex-merc took his hand away, he even remembered how to draw an intake.
There was a tiny humming as Prisma moved around, shaking her helm in wonderment. The magnitude of the destruction made her shutterblink. She turned and pursed her lips, openly staring at his thrusters in a way that made Devcon uneasy.
”I knew it,” the smuggler said airly, ”but I hadn’t expected it to be true. Those rumours? All true, aren’t they? A flyer and one fast enough to keep away from snipers? You are quite the mech, hunter. Too fraggin’ bad you aren’t in my crew. I’m sure even Acid would love to have you as a crewmate, now.”
The hunter scoffed and turned his helm to face the merc gone smuggler.
”I would,” the ex-merc confirmed with an easy grin, once again touching him. This time Devcon hissed, but since he was damanged, nobot even suspected what actually made him react that way. Acid grabbed his helm and smiled, shattering Devcon’s resistance.
”Flyer or not,” the bastard said, ”that was among the best plans I’ve seen a mech spew forth within a klikk. Frag, you brought the whole building down upon those snipers! How the frag did you do it?”
Devcon shrugged and stepped out of Acid’s too friendly grasp before he forgot why it was a bad idea to kiss him. He shot Prisma glare and rubbed some grit out of his face. He was running hot, ugh, but yeas. He had to admit it; it had been a good, albeit short fight. He took a couple of steps forward, watching beyond the debris. All over the place, bits of roof and were visible. Oh, it was some beautiful destraction he had brought upon those mercs, all right. There was just one little thing that irked him, no matter how unlikely it would seem. He frowned and turned to Acid.
”Did we get all of them?”
”We found the remains of five mechs,” the big mech answered him, sensing his sudden worry and giving the possibility of a mech escaping a second chance. ”Of course,” he continued with a dark look upon his face, ”there’s always the risk of one of them having gotten away, leaving a subspaced arm to fool us. I would have done so, if I’d been in the same pinch.”
They exchanged a look, communicating without uttering a single word. For their sake, Devcon truly hoped nothing of the sort had just happened. He frowned and shot Caliper a look as he balanced on one thruster, moving his damanged leg in a circular pattern, easing some of the pain with the slow movement.
”What do you think?”
”I know their leader is dead,” the hacker as he checked his shoulder with ginger, elegant fingers. ”But, even if one of them escaped, they won’t know it was us. I made sure to disrupt our spark signals and, uhm, while I didn’t mess with your sensors, I surely messed with their.”
Prisma shot the hacker a fond smile and then looked at Devcon’s thruster. She lifted herself over a piece of wall and moved closer to the hunter. ”Will you be able to transform with that ped?”
”Yeah,” Devcon replied. ”It hurts like a dip in the smelt, so let’s get into that elevator.”
The others nodded and spread out around him as he moved towards the tunnel.
~
The ride down was rather boring.
Devcon did nothing much but favour his thruster and give his self repair free reins. He’d accepted the high grade Acid gave him with a thankfull smile, not even aware of his courteous ways until the smugglers stared openly at him.
”…what?”
”You always this difficult to read?” Prisma complained. ”Frag mech, you are more unpredictable than any slagger I’ve met, and it was my job to predict reactions. I swear I’ve never met a mech to be this… this…”
”Messed up?” Devcon’s vocals were soft, almost hushed.
The light was dim here as well and as the elevator took them closer to the depths of the mine, he simply relaxed. Even if the others thought him to be strange, he was just making sure his systems were fully charged. A mech did what a mech had to do, even if it meant temporarely teaming up with smugglers. He snorted inwardly; had anymech told him he would be teaming up with the Wreckers and their semi-tame Decepticons he would have shot the offender.
Had anybot told him he would be fighting along with smugglers, he would have laughed long and hard and then shot the fragger.
”I wouldn’t call you a mess,” Prisma commented. ”You are just a bit… unusual.”
Acid was leaning against the wall, on the opposite side of the resting hunter. His bulk made the elevator shrink but Devcon found it strangely soothing to have the silent, reliable mech around. Specially when he was quiet.
”That only covers half it it,” Caliper said under his breath. He was propped against the door, fiddling with some gadget.
”Oh, shut it,” Devcon snorted. ”Listen… I’m just relaxing after a good kill, that’s all. I would have us all happily drunk if I had any Liquid Death.”
The captain shook her helm.
”Liquid Death? You want to melt my components? Who’s dumb enough to drink that? Well, you ain’t feeding that to Caliper and I’ll say ”nay” to it.”
She made a face at Devcon as he grinned and vanished the last tension from his sweetly aching frame. A soft rustle made him look up. Acid was looking at him again, only this time, Devcon let himself wink. It happened fast, but the ex-merc saw it. Acid’s grin grew warmer, almost intimate. Once again, both knew what the other was suggesting. Had there been time and a place for it…
Devcon smiled, silently kicking his glitch into submission. He stretched and stood on his thruster, testing how much weight he could put on it. As nothing worse than some lingering ache happened, he drew a deep intake and cycled it slowly. He turned and offered the ex-merc a shit-eating grin.
”You up to some sweet wrecking, smuggler?”
”You mean invade the Black Market, fool the mercs, possibly steal a crewmate right under the slavers noses and actually get away with it?”
”Frag, yessss…”
The smuggler wiggled his optic ridges and nodded, fully aware of the sweet tension between them, something tangible, palpable, smouldering. It had been a nice fight and he obviously knew what the hunter was experiencing; bloodlust. He licked his lips and pulled his full height, matching Devcon’s vicious grin.
”You sure you aren’t staying around after we mess the place up, hunter?”
Devcon’s grin widened. ”Pit no...”
”So, you are aiming to hard, short and sweet…?”
The hunter threw his helm back, laughing hard. Prisma merely rolled her optics and killed her hovering engines, stepping softly onto the floor.
”So, what’s the plan, hunter?” she asked with a serious, almost placid face. ”We won’t get another opportunity later on, so spill.”
The hunter nodded and held her optics as he talked them through no less than five different plans until the elevator shrieked and slowed down. When it stopped, Devcon smiled softly.
”Showtime,” he said and stepped out.
Fandom: Transformers
Rated: NC-17
Wordcount: 6914
Pairing: -
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Violance. Robo-gore. Cybertronians with double equipage, period. Reference to past torture. Angst. Devcon in all his glitchy glory.
Disclaimier: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: HUNTER is set in G1 contuinity, exploring Universe 03's take upon "Devcon the Bounty Hunter." It's also my first NaNoWriMo story, which rounded 162+ pages. The story follows Devcon from the end of issue Enter the Wreckers - Betrayal and through The Wreckers - Disclosure to meet up with canon at the start of Wreckers Finale 1. [ Prologue]. [ i]. [ ii]. [ iii]. [ iv]. [ v]. [ vi]. [ vii]
ACID
.VIII
The question was on repeat in Devcon’s processor as he moved out of the huge elevator. Behind him, Caliper walked along with Prisma, whose hovering engines grated on Devcon’s audios and sensors. Acid came last, guarding her back, keeping a watchful optic upon Devcon and the tunnel both.
The hunter walked ahead, scouting, putting some distance between them. He was doing his best to ignore the constant itch that a certain pair of optics caused against his back. It was hard, specially with his programming accomodating to this rather specific hunt. He could taste Caliper’s excitement, could feel the current of air Prisma’s engines scattered about.
Above else, and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, was the weight of Acid’s optics upon his back.
On the way down, a talk of plans had happened. Acid had joined the discussion, sharing bits and odds about the mercs, but hadn’t spoken directly to the hunter. Devcon imagined Prisma prefered it that way, but he didn’t like it. The big mech had restricted himself to answer questions and never came with suggestions or any kind of initiative. He was a tool, basically a drone, but slag it.
Whatever Prisma had done, was far worse than the stunt Rois Hro had pulled.
The captain hadn’t bothered pretending ever since he confronted her with it either. Instead, she’d made sure he would think of her as a threat. Devcon wasn’t stupid. He already knew she meant to capture him later on, once he’d been of use. That slag about him being too difficult to control? Lies, through and through. He still remembered that touch, the cold sensation that came with it, and the absolute obedience it demanded.
Frag…
He cycled a slow intake, refusing to give Prisma the pleasure of seeing him worry. He would keep his poker-face on, and rig his processor every slaggin’ firewall he knew of. This thing? Warfare of a different kind - she’d made her draw, was waiting for him to make his. Too bad he meant to play by different rules. Until he could find what he needed, however, he was stuck with her. What happened once both got what they wanted… Well, it would involve bombs and a lot of reckless flying, that much he already knew.
For time being, they needed each-other. Stale mate. He could deal with this card and better than the captain. He was good at this slag, lived for the thrill of it. This was hardly the first time he’d been between caught between a rock and a hard place. Mastering himself, he rolled his shoulders and let his sensors extend, feel everything.
Tracker protocols activated, enhancing his senses, Devcon moved with a predators ease. On his way into a bigger danger, chasing a mech who could pull so many strings, the trail confused the slag out of him, Devcon still remained a hunter at spark. His own fear tasted delicious, but what tasted even the better, was Acid’s tightly controlled panic.
It was there, held under something else. Something Devcon’s hunter programming had caught the scent of the first time they’d locked optics. He growled, cycling a deep intake, tasting emotions that had been tempered with, but not erased. A question rose in the back of his helm; if Acid truly was under Prisma’s control, why did he stare? If he was completely under her spell, why did his gaze find its way to him?
The hunter rolled his shoulders and stretched, feeling the smuggler’s gaze upon him like a timid caress. There was something deeper too, not just panic, but need. Deep, throbbing need, laced with want and desperation. It filled him, made his programming growl. He almost turned, almost responded to it, almost pushed Acid into the wall, taking what-
Woooha, hunter. Down, mech…
That… was the wrong approach to it. Also, slaggin’ worrying. He was glitching. Oh, for frag’s sake, he should have gotten ’faced before embarking upon this trip. Not that he could have guessed there would be a walking piece of hunk, staring at him, something within him just asking for his attention. Slag it to the Pit! Torn between dissatrous attraction - because, he reminded himself, distractions are bad things in hunt - and his current mission, this might just explode in his face.
He grit his denta and ignored the looks, knowing the silent ex-merch. Acid was spoken for; drone, slave… lover? Whatever he was, he was bound to Prisma and Devcon already gotten the memo. Acid was a possesion, a weapon. He silentely congratulated her. The ex-merc was a splendid choice.
A part of Devcon was sorely tempted to relieve her of her toy. Kill it, more precicely, since she sooner or later would unleash Acid on him. Of that, he had little doubt. She’d picked a close range combatant, bigger than him, stronger. While Devcon had fought bigger mechs, he always made sure of keep the slag out of the ground. Down here, he had no place to escape, no matter how fast he flew. And if Acid gained the upper hand, pinning him to the ground with those spikes, he would end up just like him.
Quantum tunneling, that’s what she had called it. He had no expertise in that area. He wouldn’t be able to fight her off, not if she left a bit of herself in him… Aw, smelt. She’d touched him. Did that mean she could control him? Was she doing it already? He doubted it, since his HUD had been running scans for the better of a Solar. Nothing alien, no hidden sub-routines rnning. No virus.
No nothing.
The sound of Prisma’s voice floated towards him, and Devcon’s optics narrowed, catching up on their conversation. Captain and hacker, happily chatting about their lost crew-mate, behaving as if nothing was amiss. Planning a raid, exchanging small memories of the mech he’d help them get back. The very picture of innocence, right?
Devcon felt his lips curl into a vicious smile as Acid’s panic deepened at the mention of something nobot would get suspiscious of. That confirmed it; they were communicating in codes. He’d expected as much, and just as he guessed, they’d been counting on him being oblivious of it. Biting down on a chuckle, he pulled his sensors back, kept them tightly around his frame, but not before sampling the ex-merc’s dread one last time.
Acid had warned him, or what ever that was left of him under the compulsion of following Prisma’s orders. He was completely submissive to her and that brought yet another question to his equation; how much of it was Prisma’s doing? omThe poor slagger coudln’t have known, a bad Acid had already warned him. Sometimes, he mused, not even knowing about it. He’d already seen how submissive Acid was, the question was; how much of it was Prisma’s doing? Was the poor bastard even aware of her control?
Was Acid fighting it?
Once this mess was over, perhaps he should repay Prisma with his own brand of justice. Pretty as a flower, and so very neat. Competent, business-like. A small snarl followed, but Devcon kept his foul mood in check. The femme was safe for now, since he would gain nothing by killing her. Nor would he attack her, unless she forced him into a corner. If he played his hand correctly, he’d be out before she commanded Acid to take him down.
Devcon cycled a deep intake. Get in, find the lead. Get out. Let nothing - not even Acid - stand in his way. That was the plan, and a solid one. He nodded and put the ex-merc and his captain out of his processor. He would deal with all that slag later on. He needed to concentrate on what lay ahead.
~
There were five other elevators, all leading to different junctions and cross-sections aligned to open rail-roads. Three levels down, past the last elevator, then acouple of open pits down the access ramp…
If the charts were updated, there were moving in the right direction. Devcon hummed under his breath and checked a miniature of the infra-structure, ignoring the warnings the local authorities had attatched to the hologram. The warnings told quite a few stories of locals being crushed, poisoned or simply torn to pieces. He snorted and scrolled past them. It had to be a joke, right?
…perhaps not.
Hard to say. The mining companies seemed to have abandoned all hope of getting more minerals out of the place. Giving the feeds a closer look, he realised that the warnings became worse for each level. This route was one somebot didn’t want others to find, or move through. If they kept it up, continued down this tunnel, they would risk renegade, glitching drones. That was what every mech thought, anyway, if the feeds were right.
Devcon and Acid had both voiced something else; mercs or slavers, not drones, would be found in the lower regions and lonesome tunnels. Prisma had congratulated them after adding a bit of her own experience with the area. The hacker had very little say, more than he would prefer glitching drones. Those he would be able to hack, at least.
Acid had replied that the drones, if they existed, would be like sentries, probably meant to warn the actual guardians of that last elevator. For some reason, Devcon had found it comical that hunters and mercs were so very alike in their processing. He would have done the same, had he been in their position. Besides, he’d always been able to understand his prey and Acid fit beautifully into the profile.
A merc no more, Acid still cut an impressive figure. Taller than Devcon by half a helm, bulky and full of sharp edges, he was a force to count with. His face, pale and serious, was adorned with an old scar across his nasal ridge. In the semi-darkness of the tunnels, his murky, watered down green paint job, let him blend in with the gloomy shadows. Prisma and the hacker had other means of staying alive, but it was obvious that they counted upon the ex-merc’s brutal strength to aid them in a tight spot.
Devcon smirked and nodded; they had a good balance going on, even if he didn’t want to dwell upon the fact that he was fraggin’ cooperating with a bunch of soft-bellied mechs again. Oh, Prisma was feral in her own way, but Lathe must be able to work miracles for her to choose to embark upon such an ill adviced adventure. That or she’d lied about them not ’facing. He shrugged and walked along.
He might just end up regretting this whole charade, but without the three smugglers coming with him, his supposed trade wouldn’t add up. Four passes, right? That-
”Do you really have enough creds for buying a slave?”
Acid’s question took Devcon by surprise and cut through his musings, putting an end to them. The hunter’s optics widened as he turned his helm, cursing himself for not having noticed how close Acid had gotten. A natural sneak, huh…? Interesting. As was the fact that Acid at all had approached him. That also answered the question whether he could talk to Devcon, captain controlling him or not. Perhaps Prisma wanted them to talk?
Either way, he held Devcon’s immediate attention.
Processor racing along, he nodded. He could feel the others watching them, but he couldn’t care less. Right now, they weren’t supposed to hide. Black Market agents would be monitoring these tunnels and it didn’t hurt if the underworld noticed the two mechs leading and guarding the smaller ones. Devcon had suggested that they walked in such a formation, but hadn’t expected Prisma to agree.
”Depends on how much the mercs expect as profit goes,” Devcon said, not even bothering to look over his shoulders. Prisma was listening, her hovering humming closer for every passing beat. ”I have enough to buy a new ship and a whole crew, plus a moon. Does that answer your question?”
The merc gone smuggler snorted, but didn’t hide his amusement very well. Devcon found himself smiling, taking longer strides to keep up with the taller mech. Ignoring the captain trailing behind them, he spent a few klikks getting an opticful of ex-merc. Extending his sensors again, biting his glossa as they enfolded the mech, Devcon tried to read him. And… there it was. His smile grew sharper, and he looked down at his thrusters.
The panic was still there, but so was something much like determination. And the same deep want, the desperate need that made Devcon’s programming glitch. He cycled an intake and dared a quick glance at the handsome face. It was strange… Under other circumstances they would have been either killing or ’facing each-other. Sadly, since both knew what would happen once Lathe was secured, this unasy truce was the best they would get.
Acid’s vocals were soft, so very deep, that Devcon had to lean closer. ”A ship? I hope you know anything about ships, mech. You’ll get swindled out of your hide otherwise.”
Devcon quickly schooled his face into something less surprised. Oh, slag… Acid actually didn’t know? He should have expected it, but it t was a low blow, not finding it necessary to inform Acid of exactly whom he was going up against. Yes, a hunter, that much the ex-merc knew, but he didn’t know Devcon’s identity. A bad move, not letting your pawn know who they were dealing with.
As he tried to find a good answer, echoes reached them, distorted by the many different tunnels they passed by. The shadows seemed darker, bigger, hiding things. He knew mercs hated his kind. Hunters, specially bounty hunters, had always rivaled with mercs when it came to a certain kind of business. He met the other mech’s gaze, dimming his optics, frowning somewhat.
”I’m not going to buy a ship, smuggler.”
A tauting grin spread in the ex-mercs face. ”Can’t blame a mech for asking if captainship is what you’re aiming for. Unless you think that the Lazy Tide is ripe for the taking?”
Behind them, Caliper snorted. Devcon shook his helm, cycling a sigh. ”Ain’t interested in that either. There are other things I prefer to have. Things you can’t really buy, no matter how much you try.”
Endless space, utter freedom.
”Well, there are those who seems to think you’d be ambitious enough. Last Haul said you might try to ursupate the captain and told me to inform you that crew won’t serve any other Cybertronian than Prisma. Trying might just get you killed.”
Devcon stopped, and so did Acid. The tension between them grew, palpable and sharp. What was this about? A warning? Some kind of a joke? Humming filled the air as Prisma hovered along. She watched Devcon with a bemused grin, letting him handle Acid all by himself. Devcon wondered if she even realised how close she was to losing her precious toy. Caliper stared in fascination as he walked pass them.
Frag the both of them. No, scratch that. Frag Acid too.
”…right. As if I’d be insane enough to trade my freedom for the bunch of you. Let’s make it clear; that ship you were stupid enough to board? It’s nothing I want. I prefer deep space and the solitude of the void. Nothing else is good enough for me. Besides, even if I went insane and went after your ship, something tells me I wouldn’t be fast enough to escape your captain’s special touch. Specially not with you as her back-up.”
Which he hadn’t meant to say… glitch.
”So you don’t want it…?”
Now something else had crawled into the ex-merc’s vocals and Devcon’s sensors latched unto a wave of strangled fear. There was wounded pride there too, and something else. Not lust, not want, but need. His base coding roared in response, sensing weakness, an easy kill. Devcon bit his glossa and fought the impuls to react accordingly to his programming. Pushing Acid into the wall and have a little taste of what hid behind those optics would be a bad, bad idea.
In a sense, he was better off like this, bottling it up. It would serve him well once a proper fight broke out. Just not here, and not now.
Acid was waiting for an answer. Devcon frowned and forced his programming back, processing quickly. A gorgeous mech, good with numbers. There would certainly be a market for such a mech. The mercs would demand a nice little heap o’ creds for him, but Devcon hadn’t been lying. In the Black Market, reputation took you further than creds and no trader or merchant would dream of haggling over Ram’s handywork.
He had the creds, and he’d get out. Before this mech had him lose his selfcontrol. He pulled his sensors back again, and for a moment, he thought he saw a shimmer in Acid’s optics. The bigger mech tilted his helm, shuddering all the sudden.
”Hunter…?”
”…all right,” Devcon breathed. ”Listen carefully. I’m not cut out for teamwork. I won’t ask your captain for a bunk, nor will I try to take her place. As soon as we’re done, I’m out. I have a hunt to take care off and no, ain’t gonna share it. It’s mine and mine only. My fraggin’ business, got that? My kill.”
And I’ll break you apart, if you stand in my way.
Perhaps it was the sheer hunger in his vocals, or even the way his frame tensed up with sweet excitement that had the ex-merch shut up. A he moved to take the lead, Devcon was lost in his own daydreams, in which Cyclonus died over and over again, and slowly.
~
Juction 58 was just around the corner when Devcon’s sensors rippled, making him stop in his tracks and alert the others.
Acid moved quickly infront of his captain, a lasercore knife in his hand. Devcon gave the weapon an apprecionate look and revved his engines. Acid shutterblinked and looked down at him, confusement written all over his face.
”Pretty little thing you’ve go there, smuggler,” Devcon purred, keeping his optics on the hall ahead. They walked at the same pace, Prisma’s engines humming away. Caliper hadn’t uttered a word during their descent, which was a good thing. He also kept his distance. Devcon guessed Prisma had been clear with her orders.
”Made to carve a mech in half,” muttered Acid.
”It’s a thing of beauty,” Devcon said softly. ”Ahead,” he continued, nodding at the upcoming junction. ”We have company.”
”How many?”
Devcon’s grin grew. ”Five. Think you are up to a dance?”
”You could let me handle this,” Prisma suggested pleasantly.
It chilled Devcon’s fuel lines to hear her say such a thing. He shook his helm. ”Frag, no… Let’s keep this simple. They attack, we fight back. They want to make business, we let them talk. They want for answers, let me answer. I’ve been ’round a fair share of systems, I’ve encountered slaveres before.”
”What if they are mercs?” Acid said.
”Then you do the talk,” Devcon replied and his smirk died away, giving place for a slight concerned look. ”Will they recognise you?”
”No, they won’t. I left the camp long ago. Most of my old crew ended up in the smelts, and I never had a rich social life to start with.”
The hunter nodded and rubbed his chin, looking at Acid’s knife. Prisma huffed as he turned to give her a flat look. Caliper took a step back, anxious of touching him. Devcon grinned and tilted his helm, taking the hacker in. Well, captain had certainly made sure to keep Caliper in a tight leash.
”Can you fight?”
It took the hacker a few klikks before he realised Devcon had spoken to him. His faceplates went dark and tinted, his hands restless.
”Yes. Lathe tought me to shoot…?”
Devcon rolled his shoulders, checking his own weapons quickly. He saw Acid do the same, then turned to Caliper with a frown. ”That’s not what I asked you,” he growled. ”What I want to know if you’ve been in a raid.”
”Three raids,” the mech answered him, keeping his optics low. ”I’ve killed trice and I’ve held my own ground.”
”Against mercs too?”
The hacker shot the ex-merc a bland look and nodded.
”What he means is that Lathe lets him train with me,” Acid shrugged. ”He’ll do okay, unless a sniper is around. Aint’t that fast, but I’ll be able to keep both him and the captain safe. That leaves you to kill whatever would get through me.”
”High praise,” Devcon murmured and turned his helm. ”Well then, time to move.”
~
The juction was empty and severly trashed. At some point there had been trains coming all the way down, but not any more. Now the place had an abandoned atmosphere, but Devcon’s tracking programm saw through the trap. Somebot had outdone himself to fool visitors.
Lovely.
”Welcome, welcome!”
Devcon’s cannon trained itself on the tall figure ahead. He flexed his fingers and kept himself from aiming with his blaster. Three, no, four mechs crawled out of the shadows, bu this proximity sensors told another tale.
No less than seven signals were spread over the spacious station. Devcon more felt than saw how Acid turned his helm towards the east; two were there. The hunter nodded and the ex-merc gave him a small, pleased grin.
”Welcome yourself,” Devcon called out. ”Now, what would such a gentlemech as yourself be doing down here?”
His vocals held a sharp tone and not so little sarcasm. The mech gave a mocking bow and put his hands upon his hips, looking a bit too pleased with himself. Must be those hidden signals that made him so cocky. Devcon purred; he liked them that way, made the killing so much sweeter. His engines thrummed as his hunter programming was activated.
”Ohh, one could ask you the same, big bot. You have any business down this tunnel?”
”Damn right, pal. I have business and if you stand there, I’ll just have to pick you apart and sell your spares to a friend of mine. She’d love to have a look at your innards.”
Acid’s grin grew wider, and he was having a hard time not laughing. Somehow, that made Devcon grin like a glitch.
”That’s big bot words, Autobot. You sure you don’t want to turn around and leave these tunnels be? Won’t ask you again, see.”
Sentries.
”More than trouble,” Acid said to his audios alone. ”We’re fighting our way through this one, aren’t we?”
Devcon nodded and Acid shifted again, their shoulder touching. It sent a nice little tingle down Decvcon spinal struts. His sensors encircled the mech as he revved his engines again. A moment later, he leaned closer, then froze as he realised what he was doing. Oh, frag. He needed to concentrate on something else…
”What do we do?” Prisma’s vocals were barely a whisper and Caliper almost clinged to her.
”We do nothing,” Devcon replied just as low. ”Acid, those two you spotted earlier? They might have long range weapons. Let me take care of them.”
”What? This wasn’t what we planned!”
”Can you move fast enough to escape snipers? Is your amour dense enough to survive lase rcores? No? Didn’t think so. Listen, their leader is trying to draw our attention from those over there. It means they are the heavy duty. I want you to throw your knife when I say so. Once you do it, there will be much happening at once. That nice cannon of yours?”
Acid nodded then tilted his helm in a silent question. ”What about it,” he said eventually.
”I want you to shot the roof. It’ll come down on them-”
”It might trap us!” Acid protested, not entirely wrong.
Devcon patted his curled fist and offered him a wicked grin. ”I can pulverise it later, pal. Just crush them and concentrate on giving Caliper time to take those still standing. I’m sure your captain can watch your back, aiming her own arsenal at their leader.”
The ex-merc made a surprised sound and regarded him with respect. He swallowed and turned to his captain, but Prisma only agreed with Devcon. The hacker seemed awed and looked like a silly glitch, staring at him with his mouth open. Devcon turned to the sentry and offered him a loopsided, cold grin.
”Know what? I’m still gonna have my little walk down the tunnels you are trying to keep me from. I may be an outlander, but I have passes and acces codes to get through those doors. If you still stand in my way, mech, then you are responsible for what happens with those under your command. Either way, I’m still taking my party to the market.”
The sentry shook his helm.
”You are not from this place. I haven’t seen you around. What makes you think the market wants you?”
”Oh, pal… It wants my creds, believe me. It wants my creds. Now, either you move or I make a short process out of this.”
Silence was all answer he got. That and the unmistakable pressure of being targeted. Devcon ran, making himself a moving target for the snipers. As long as Acid wasn’t’ at the end of their aim, allw as well. He felt rather than heard how the ceiling came down with a roar, his helm aching as the sound tore a yelp out of him.
In the distraction Acid had created, he kicked his thrusters to life and jumped up, getting airborne. He aimed both weapons at the rundown building and blasted away. He was in the line of fire for every mech right now, but moved in irregular patterns, shouting and laughing as he was zinged but not critically harmed.
Pain became sweet, just as always when his programming fully set in. He craved a fight, needed it to hurt, anything that would clear his processor.
He kept the snipers busy with his own attacks, always making sure to stay out of their aim, yet forcing them to follow him lest they wanted him to find his way into their hiding spots. He growled as one of the grounders hit his left thruster and for a moment, he lost his balance and was thrown into the ruined building. He slammed into it, groaning, pain exploading all over his frame, but managed to stay up.
Good.
There were screams from the world below, but he couldn’t see more than dust and debris exploding all over the place; Acid’s work. Caliper was keeping his own ground as well, and the captain kept the leader of the pack busy, forcing him to reatreat behind the remains of what used to be the ceiling. Devcon laughed loudly, excitement making him unpredictable as always. He was a wild card, but a fraggin’ good one.
Devcon heightened his sensors, hissing as everything become a physical sensation like nothing else; tracking devices activated, searching. His HUD informed him of the harm done to him, but Devcon ignored it pointedly. The fight wasn’t over and he would have much more than these scrapes if he didn’t manage to take the snipers down, one after the other.
He broke a window with a well aimed kick and flew out of the way; the shots that came gave him a fair angle of where they were. He felt them, could taste their fear and anger. This had not been what they expected, this could not to be! He laughed silently and hit the wall with both cannon and blaster, leaving a nice whole in which the mechs inside could have a fair chance of escape. Too bad it was three stores above the ground. Depending on how agile they were, they actually would be able to leave.
The bloodshed turnd into something to desire, to lust after. He snickered madly as the hunter’s high came over him, leaving him thirsty for more. Moving higher still, Devcon waited, blasting his signal for them to find. He shook with restrained power. Soon there would be one foolish enough…
”Where is the flyer?”
”There is no flyer! This is just a trap, don’t go near that hole!”
”For frag’s sake, Bulb lied! He said they were a bunch of weak slavers, not pros!”
”Stay put, fraggit!”
Devcon shivered and moved around the building, killing his signal. Leaving them in the dark. The wispers returned, drifting to him through cracks in the walls. He could feel their despair and the bewilderment when they lost him completely. Any moment now and they would track him by spark energy, but then he would be behind them.
There was a shriek from below as Caliper was hit, but the others would have to see to him. Devcon was tempted to fly down and have some fun, but changed his processor when he felt movement from within the building. They were moving, crawling, closer to the blasted hole. The hunter found a broken window and fired his blaster right through it, bringing down walls as he manuevered his way inside, climbing as he killed his engines. The snipers returned the fire, but Devcon was already huddled against a wall, vents filled with dust. He coughed, a hand over his mouth and refreshed his optics, sensing his quarry creep closer.
There was a buzz in the air, or rather, a frequency being used, a comm. channel. The mercs, no doubt, communcating. He grinned and bit his lower lip, tasting energon. There was the risk of them closing in on him, cornering him. He needed another strategy, one that would be explosive enough for his tatest. A beat later, he cycled as sigh. Even though he cared little for the concussion missiles, he still had them. There would be no time to doubt once they entered, but if he could detonate a couple of those and throw himself out as the building exploded, he would survive.
It was the snipers who made the dicision for him. One of them aimed in his general direction and threw a grenade. Devcon yelped and was halfway out when the other shot him squarely in the back, forcing him to turn and return fire. What he fired, however, wasn’t his blaster or his cannon; he threw a missile and ignited it with a blast from his aching turbine.
There was a scream and then pressure brought the whole damn thing down, pushing Devcon away, sending him howling out of harms way. The rumble hurt his heightened senses, scraping against his audios, frame shivering as the waves rippled and threatened to hurl him onto the ground. He barely escaped being crushed against pillar and gripped it, hiding behind it, processor almost splitting.
When silence finally settled, he managed to glide down, putting a damper on his sensors. The world return to it’s normal state, dull, tasteless, boring. He sighed and brought his hands to his helm, swallowing a moan. Frag, frag, frag…
”Hunter? You there?”
”Was he inside the building?”
”No! He’s… wait, he’s over there, by the pillar!”
Caliper and his creepy hacking. Devcon rested his arms upon his knees and made sure to calm his systems, ignoring his HUD as it flashed feeds, ran diagnostics and generally annoyed the living crap out of him. He growled and rolled his shoulders, looking up as Acid came around the pillar. The mech had seen worse Solars, Devcon was sure, him being an ex-merc and all, but for some reason, the mech beamed at him. His vocals sounded too loud for Devcon anyway and he winced when the other started.
”Primus, mech, that was beautiful!”
”I think our resident hunter is a maniac and a walking fraud,” Prisma said, laughter in her vocals, ”but yes. Brilliant!”
Devcon snorted and shook the last weakness off, checking his damaged thruster. It wasn’t more than a surface wound and that was good. Hurt like the pit, but it wouldn’t keep him grounded. A good thing, considering what he was up against. As he got onto his toes, checking his equilibrium he noticed the hacker watching him with something close to adoration.
”You… I… That was awesome!”
”I’m sure,” Devcon muttered and vented a few grains out of his midsection, touching the vents gingerly. He watched the mechs, taking in their appearence. ”Anybot hurt?”
Prisma shook her helm, getting some dust out of her face. She looked strangely out of context in this place, with debris and litter laying all over. Devcon snorted at himself; she sort of looked like a glamorous femme from old times. Classic looking, expensive lifestyle. The blaster in her hand, however, stopped any further processing along that line. She met his optics and lifted an optic ridge, pointing at the hacker.
”The leader managed to hit Caliper, but other than that, not really.”
”You all right?” The concern in Devcon’s face was real and the hacker’s optics went wide just as his faceplates became dark and tinted.
”Yeah, I… I can go on, it’s nothing, really,” Caliper murmured. ”I was mostly surprised, since he came practically out of no where.”
He shuffled his peds and looked away, suddenly shy again, albeit smiling softly. Devcon regarded him, taking in the mess the other mech had made of his shoulder.
”…right, if you say so. There will be medics in there anyway, if you need it. I wouldn’t trust them with anything too crusious, though.”
With most of the dust gone, Devcon saw the destruction he’d left behind. He whistled and shook his helm at the rubble surrounding them. He scanned the area for spark signatures but there was nothing there. Just silence and the odd boulder falling from the big hole in the ceiling the ex-merc had blasted away.
Acid stepped forward and kicked a rock out of the way. He grinned and grabbed Devcon’s shoulder. It sent a warm current all the way to his ’panel, but Devcon managed to bite down on the moan. Frag…! Thankfully, nothing else was said or asked. When the ex-merc took his hand away, he even remembered how to draw an intake.
There was a tiny humming as Prisma moved around, shaking her helm in wonderment. The magnitude of the destruction made her shutterblink. She turned and pursed her lips, openly staring at his thrusters in a way that made Devcon uneasy.
”I knew it,” the smuggler said airly, ”but I hadn’t expected it to be true. Those rumours? All true, aren’t they? A flyer and one fast enough to keep away from snipers? You are quite the mech, hunter. Too fraggin’ bad you aren’t in my crew. I’m sure even Acid would love to have you as a crewmate, now.”
The hunter scoffed and turned his helm to face the merc gone smuggler.
”I would,” the ex-merc confirmed with an easy grin, once again touching him. This time Devcon hissed, but since he was damanged, nobot even suspected what actually made him react that way. Acid grabbed his helm and smiled, shattering Devcon’s resistance.
”Flyer or not,” the bastard said, ”that was among the best plans I’ve seen a mech spew forth within a klikk. Frag, you brought the whole building down upon those snipers! How the frag did you do it?”
Devcon shrugged and stepped out of Acid’s too friendly grasp before he forgot why it was a bad idea to kiss him. He shot Prisma glare and rubbed some grit out of his face. He was running hot, ugh, but yeas. He had to admit it; it had been a good, albeit short fight. He took a couple of steps forward, watching beyond the debris. All over the place, bits of roof and were visible. Oh, it was some beautiful destraction he had brought upon those mercs, all right. There was just one little thing that irked him, no matter how unlikely it would seem. He frowned and turned to Acid.
”Did we get all of them?”
”We found the remains of five mechs,” the big mech answered him, sensing his sudden worry and giving the possibility of a mech escaping a second chance. ”Of course,” he continued with a dark look upon his face, ”there’s always the risk of one of them having gotten away, leaving a subspaced arm to fool us. I would have done so, if I’d been in the same pinch.”
They exchanged a look, communicating without uttering a single word. For their sake, Devcon truly hoped nothing of the sort had just happened. He frowned and shot Caliper a look as he balanced on one thruster, moving his damanged leg in a circular pattern, easing some of the pain with the slow movement.
”What do you think?”
”I know their leader is dead,” the hacker as he checked his shoulder with ginger, elegant fingers. ”But, even if one of them escaped, they won’t know it was us. I made sure to disrupt our spark signals and, uhm, while I didn’t mess with your sensors, I surely messed with their.”
Prisma shot the hacker a fond smile and then looked at Devcon’s thruster. She lifted herself over a piece of wall and moved closer to the hunter. ”Will you be able to transform with that ped?”
”Yeah,” Devcon replied. ”It hurts like a dip in the smelt, so let’s get into that elevator.”
The others nodded and spread out around him as he moved towards the tunnel.
~
The ride down was rather boring.
Devcon did nothing much but favour his thruster and give his self repair free reins. He’d accepted the high grade Acid gave him with a thankfull smile, not even aware of his courteous ways until the smugglers stared openly at him.
”…what?”
”You always this difficult to read?” Prisma complained. ”Frag mech, you are more unpredictable than any slagger I’ve met, and it was my job to predict reactions. I swear I’ve never met a mech to be this… this…”
”Messed up?” Devcon’s vocals were soft, almost hushed.
The light was dim here as well and as the elevator took them closer to the depths of the mine, he simply relaxed. Even if the others thought him to be strange, he was just making sure his systems were fully charged. A mech did what a mech had to do, even if it meant temporarely teaming up with smugglers. He snorted inwardly; had anymech told him he would be teaming up with the Wreckers and their semi-tame Decepticons he would have shot the offender.
Had anybot told him he would be fighting along with smugglers, he would have laughed long and hard and then shot the fragger.
”I wouldn’t call you a mess,” Prisma commented. ”You are just a bit… unusual.”
Acid was leaning against the wall, on the opposite side of the resting hunter. His bulk made the elevator shrink but Devcon found it strangely soothing to have the silent, reliable mech around. Specially when he was quiet.
”That only covers half it it,” Caliper said under his breath. He was propped against the door, fiddling with some gadget.
”Oh, shut it,” Devcon snorted. ”Listen… I’m just relaxing after a good kill, that’s all. I would have us all happily drunk if I had any Liquid Death.”
The captain shook her helm.
”Liquid Death? You want to melt my components? Who’s dumb enough to drink that? Well, you ain’t feeding that to Caliper and I’ll say ”nay” to it.”
She made a face at Devcon as he grinned and vanished the last tension from his sweetly aching frame. A soft rustle made him look up. Acid was looking at him again, only this time, Devcon let himself wink. It happened fast, but the ex-merc saw it. Acid’s grin grew warmer, almost intimate. Once again, both knew what the other was suggesting. Had there been time and a place for it…
Devcon smiled, silently kicking his glitch into submission. He stretched and stood on his thruster, testing how much weight he could put on it. As nothing worse than some lingering ache happened, he drew a deep intake and cycled it slowly. He turned and offered the ex-merc a shit-eating grin.
”You up to some sweet wrecking, smuggler?”
”You mean invade the Black Market, fool the mercs, possibly steal a crewmate right under the slavers noses and actually get away with it?”
”Frag, yessss…”
The smuggler wiggled his optic ridges and nodded, fully aware of the sweet tension between them, something tangible, palpable, smouldering. It had been a nice fight and he obviously knew what the hunter was experiencing; bloodlust. He licked his lips and pulled his full height, matching Devcon’s vicious grin.
”You sure you aren’t staying around after we mess the place up, hunter?”
Devcon’s grin widened. ”Pit no...”
”So, you are aiming to hard, short and sweet…?”
The hunter threw his helm back, laughing hard. Prisma merely rolled her optics and killed her hovering engines, stepping softly onto the floor.
”So, what’s the plan, hunter?” she asked with a serious, almost placid face. ”We won’t get another opportunity later on, so spill.”
The hunter nodded and held her optics as he talked them through no less than five different plans until the elevator shrieked and slowed down. When it stopped, Devcon smiled softly.
”Showtime,” he said and stepped out.