Title: The One Who Which Binds Us (2/?)
Title: The One Who Which Binds Us (2/?)
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Pairings: This chapter StarscreamxPerceptor. SkyfirexStarscreamxPerceptor.
Rating: Mature. Slash. Slash pairing. Future STICKY.
Summary: Takes place around the time that Episode Seven, ‘Fire In The Sky’. Skyfire is slowly growing accustomed on the planet that took his first mate. But a Decepticon unit somewhere in the Arctic, in search of a way to drain the Earth’s heat, has found something that will test both Starscream and Skyfire, and the bond of a trine.
Author’s Note: I know the Constructicons and certain other mechs were not present about the time Skyfire appeared in Season One of the G1 cartoon, but humour me…
Time units:
Klik: 3 seconds
Breem: 1 hour
Orn: 1 day
Joor: A week
Cycle: 1 month
Stellar cycle: 1 year
Decacycle: 1 decade
Vorn: 83 years
+++++++++++++++
“Rotten filthy fraggers…making me crawl around in here…” Frenzy grumbles, crawling upon his stomach down the tight corridor carved through the ice.
“We’re looking for an energon source. We’re not here to listen to the flapping of your lips!” Skyward shouts from the end of the small tunnel.
“Then you squeeze your big aft down here and help me get done faster..” He mutters.
“I heard that!”
“I meant you to!” He shouts back.
“Frenzy: Continue Survey.” Soundwave intercedes before the argument can heat further.
“Got it, boss,” Frenzy slithers deeper into the tunnel. “Hey, I think its opening up a little bit…” He notes in surprise, squeezing through the end of the tunnel, wriggling his hips and legs free.
“Anything?” Thundercracker’s voice echoes over the Cassette’s comm. link.
“No energon source, sad to say,” Frenzy scrapes the ice crystals off his chassis and legs, planting his hands on his hips, surveying the cavern, “Not much here.”
“Frenzy: Return.” Soundwave’s instructs the red and black Cassette, “Operation: Mute Point To Continue Search.”
“I hear that.” He turns, gritting his denta in preparation to shimmy head first into the tunnel once more, but a flash of color snags his attention first.
He shuffles over in the direction of red, pausing in front of the wall of ice. “Weird.” Scraping his hand down the wall, smoothing away the patches of snow; through the clear glass reflection, red and teal paint peek through the ice.
Frenzy tilts his helm back, curiosity rising. Swiping his hands across as much of the wall as he can reach, he begins to clear away the clotted, dusty snow.
With a final brush of his hand, a light gray face is staring back. Optics dark, the mech’s face settled in a serene mask as if in regular stasis cycle―if he weren’t entombed in ice.
“Holy frag!” Frenzy flops backwards, slipping and crashing onto his posterior.
“What’s going on down there?” Skywarp demands, annoyed by the radio silence and then the startled yelp of the Cassette ringing in his audios loud and clear.
Soundwave is far more concerned by what has startled his symbiote so badly, “Frenzy: Report.”
“T-There’s a mech down here,” Frenzy swallows, lubricating the inside of his dry mouth with a swipe of his glossa, “He’s completely sealed in ice. No faction symbols either, from the looks of things.” He dares to hop back towards the imprisoned stranger, glancing to see if there are any noteworthy symbols upon the mech.
“Are you serious?” Skywarp rises from his crouch over the small mouth of the tunnel. Staring at his fellow Seekers and the technopath, “If this is your Cassette’s idea of a joke, then I’m not amused, Soundwave.”
Soundwave ignores the teleporter, instead switching on his comm. link. “Lord Megatron. Request For the Constructicons Assistance.”
“Have you found my energon source?”
“Negative, Lord Megatron.” Soundwave peers towards the tunnel as Frenzy scrabbles his way free, waving his arms in excitement while the two Seekers look on with mute vocals and dry disbelief, “We Have Found Something Else That May Warrant Attention.”
+++++++++++++++
The Constructicons were arrayed throughout their lab, ringed around their offline patient, efficiently running the precise and delicate procedures to remove the hard crystals of ice, carefully and patiently warming the fragile frozen plating. Too rough, and the plates could crack and possibly shatter. Too many vorns underwater, and then encased in a frozen tomb of ice, had begun to wage havoc on the Cybertronian, no matter how advanced his dermal plating was in comparison to this miserable planet’s minerals and materials.
“Haven’t seen this model since before the War,” Scrapper shut off the portable heater shaped like a dryer, using a large durable cloth to wipe away the condensation from the melted ice.
Scavenger grunted, tugging at the microscope tray. Trying to pry it open, the latches snapping free, lined with thick ice. Carefully he snapped the ice off piece by piece, peering into the mech’s internals. “His systems must have locked up when the frigid water began to breach his seams. Look. There’s so little ice in here. When he shut down, he must have initiated a sequence to pressurize and seal his transformation seams in order to prevent further contamination.”
“Check everywhere just to be sure.” Long Haul muttered, using a thin utensil to guide a long sliver of ice from underneath the thin plating of the mech’s calf, “I’ve found enough shards on him, and if there are more tangled are certain bundles of wires and energon capillaries, then it is more work for us.”
“Stop nagging.” Bonecrusher growls, assisting Mixmaster by holding a larger beaker while the chemist carefully pours the mixture, the tonic being prepped to flush the red and teal mech’s internals of any contaminants.
“Would all of you shut up?” Hook hissed from the head of the berth, fingertips pressed to either side of the microscope’s helm. Wires connected into the small data ports of the mech’s skull frame and neck, the data readouts on the tiny computer screen reading from the equipment at his elbow. The Constructicon uses his fingers and palms, brushing the hypersensitive sensor clusters against their patient’s temples, listening to every hum and hiccup of the mech’s CPU and bundles of neural networks and hardware drives, “I am trying to work here.”
His brothers echo an apology, continuing their painstaking work, the heavy medical dishes slowly filling with the crystal shards of ice. Mixmaster inserted the syringe and intravenous drip, expertly sliding the long needle into the thin energon cable tugged and clamped securely from in between the two plates of the microscope’s forearm.
Hook murmurs in consternation when his fingertips again brush the minute depression on the microscope’s temple, hand sliding downward, following the injury, probing the dimple of metal across a red collar and teal shoulder. “Something hit him. Hard. Probably knocked him offline with one blow.”
“Didn’t break the dermal layer,” Scrapper agrees, “But had a sharp enough edge to leave a faint mark.”
“The culprit could have been any sort of equipment or cargo then.” Hook sighs with annoyance, “Still, there doesn’t appear to be damage to his mainframe. The blow probably dislocated his shoulder joint, however. I’ll repair that along with the concussed area on his temple. Might as well make him look presentable for when Lord Megatron honors us with his presence.”
+++++++++++++++
“I demand to see him!” The Seeker nearly stomps his pede in distemper, “You have no right to bar me from entering the labs!”
Megatron growls, nursing the beginning of a migraine, “Leave my Constructicons with some semblance of peace and sanity. Lest your shrieks blast their audio drums.”
Starscream hisses and spits, pacing like a feline on a hot tin roof. He turns a dark glower in the warlord’s direction.
Megatron mirrors the Seeker’s scorching glare.
“For once, use your processor.” The Decepticon leader sighs, reclining on his throne, staring down, unmoved by the mech’s piercing look, and speaks slowly, as if lecturing an indolent youngling, “You and this mech have a history…One not too dissimilar from your old ties with that Autobot Skyfire.”
“Are you implying that my loyalty is under question?” The Seeker’s lips ripple with an ugly snarl.
Megatron’s ruby gaze flares. His distemper heady amongst the tense air.
A rough guffaw of laughter from the other subordinates standing inside the large chamber, Blitzwing tosses his head, one hand on his hip, sneers at the proud Seeker, “You hardly need an excuse to stab any mech in the back. Why should I not assume that you will stray, too concerned to think with what’s between your audios, than what is between your legs.”
“How about I show you what’s between your audios!” Starscream shrieks, raising a null ray, swinging the nozzle in the triple-changer’s direction, “Starting by repainting the walls of this war room with the sludge that you call a processor!”
The other Seekers and Coneheads snarl, eager for a scuffle. Astrotrain backing up the other triple-changer, while several other Decepticons rally, hissing and baiting the hierarchy of wing-born mechs with crude slurs and taunts, eager for a reason to lay down a fight and break denta and struts.
“Enough.”
The soldiers and officers shrink at the warlord’s command, hunkering down with their proverbial tails between their legs as their leader rises to his pedes, Soundwave loyally flanking his superior.
“It would be inappropriate not to include my second and third in command while I investigate this conundrum of our guest. I expect you to behave.” Megatron aims a sharp look at the Seeker commander, “Try not to disappoint me.”
Huffing at the idea of following the warlord’s beck and call, Starscream acquiesces, but not without throwing a haughty jeer and twitch of a sneer in the triple-changers’ direction. “Don’t wait up.” Starscream laughs, cocking his hip as he strides after the warlord and technopath.
+++++++++++++++
“Switch on the second pump.” Hook administers another set of directions, frowning at the spike in readings, “we don’t want to warm him too quickly.”
Scavenger confirms his instructions by switching online the indicated equipment. Monitoring the feed, the Constructicon frowns, “Should it be taking so long?” He asks.
“Depends on how quickly his systems are integrating the energon.” Scrapper checks the intravenous lines, calculating the units of fluids being transferred into the inert form, “There aren’t any cracks in his fuel tank or any other leaks. His systems are sucking the energon down as fast as they can receive it.”
Bonecrusher snaps closed the microscope tray, wiping down the last of his tools. “I’ve removed the last contaminate,” He says while shucking the cloths into the bin prepped for the incinerator, a separate container for the kilos of ice and debris removed from the surrounding and interior of the mech’s frame. Long Haul moving the containers away once they are filled, so that the heavy canisters are not too close to their work station.
Mixmaster scowls as he preps another bag of fluids. “We need him online soon. Too much energon and you’ll either flood his tanks, or poison him, whichever comes first.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Hook scowls.
“Hold on.” Scrapper intercedes, his sharp gaze focused on the monitors, “Something’s happening.”
A blip, a hiccup in the graph of readings, steals their attention.
Long enough for the Constructicons to miss the flicker of azure light that pulses from the depths of the offline mech’s optical sockets.
Scavenger squeals in shock when the mech suddenly balks and arches off the berth. Mixmaster curses and knocks over a short table of tools as he leaps away.
The red and cobalt mech’s face twists into a silent howl of agony, a seizure trembling up his frame, hands curled and clawing at the bed of the berth whilst he shudders and twists.
“HOLD HIM!” Scrapper shouts and throws his bulk over the convulsing mech, “He’s coming online too fast! His memory files are looping the last bits of data feed that he remembers before he offlined!”
Wide blue optics twitch left and right as the smaller mech twists and kicks, his voice warbling with panic, a slur of words pouring from his lips, “Starrrrrrr…..” He moans, “…Sk…..Sky!…li…ling…Falling! I’m falling!!” His words rise into a terrified wail, the microscope’s frame flooded with a sudden desperate pulse of adrenal which strengthens him with enough desperation to buck Scrapper and Hook off him.
The confused reawakened mech’s wails escalate when he tumbles off the berth and lands upon the floor with a clang, the unexpected fall and the shock of the frigid metal floor upon his stinging shoulder and face stirs another wave of panicked confusion. The Constructicons’ labs ring with the bouncing pitch of the frightened mech’s screams as he tries to curl into a ball away from the grabbing hands and strange unrecognizable faces.
“What are you doing to him?!”
The Constructicons jerk away from the patient, guiltily shuffling away as the Seeker bursts into their labs, “He just woke up!” Long Haul bites out, angrily defending him and his brothers, “It’s not our fault that he’s a little bit scared and disorientated!”
Perceptor catches a familiar glimpse of red, white, and azure through the forest of green and purple legs and torsos. The microscope throws his hand forward in the Seeker’s direction, begging, “Starrrr…scream!”
They are quick to abandon their positions in haste when the infuriated Seeker rushes towards them like Unicron incarnate, null rays scorching hot and ready to sear their faces.
The Seeker yanks the petrified microscope into his arms, a snarl and a grimace of sharp denta aimed at the wary circle of Constructicons while the Seeker backs into a corner with his smaller partner clutched tightly within his embrace.
“Starr…” Perceptor moans against the Seeker’s cockpit, hands curled tightly around the taller mech’s shoulders, hunkered within Starscream’s arms and bracketed by firm white thighs.
Megatron scans the room with disapproving distaste, ruby optics taking note of the overturned medical berth and scattered tools and utensils, Soundwave following loyally at his side as the warlord enters the labs.
“Why do you hesitate?” Megatron’s chilly demand causes the Constructicons to shrink and hunch their shoulders, “You have done well to awaken our guest. I would like to take a better look at him for myself without the distraction of your dithering,” The warlord’s gaze narrows and his head turns to lock with the Seeker’s, “Starscream. Step away from him.”
“Fuck you!” The Seeker verbally punches the air with the human explicative. His arms only tighten further around his partner.
Megatron sighs, huge shoulders collapsing with the weight of annoyance. He addresses the Constructicons, “Bring our guest to me so that Soundwave and I may have a better look.”
The Constructicons delay for only a few seconds. Fearing Megatron’s fury more than they feared the Seeker’s shrieks and indignation, the mechs rush the Seeker and microscope pair.
+++++++++++++++
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Pairings: This chapter StarscreamxPerceptor. SkyfirexStarscreamxPerceptor.
Rating: Mature. Slash. Slash pairing. Future STICKY.
Summary: Takes place around the time that Episode Seven, ‘Fire In The Sky’. Skyfire is slowly growing accustomed on the planet that took his first mate. But a Decepticon unit somewhere in the Arctic, in search of a way to drain the Earth’s heat, has found something that will test both Starscream and Skyfire, and the bond of a trine.
Author’s Note: I know the Constructicons and certain other mechs were not present about the time Skyfire appeared in Season One of the G1 cartoon, but humour me…
Time units:
Klik: 3 seconds
Breem: 1 hour
Orn: 1 day
Joor: A week
Cycle: 1 month
Stellar cycle: 1 year
Decacycle: 1 decade
Vorn: 83 years
+++++++++++++++
“Rotten filthy fraggers…making me crawl around in here…” Frenzy grumbles, crawling upon his stomach down the tight corridor carved through the ice.
“We’re looking for an energon source. We’re not here to listen to the flapping of your lips!” Skyward shouts from the end of the small tunnel.
“Then you squeeze your big aft down here and help me get done faster..” He mutters.
“I heard that!”
“I meant you to!” He shouts back.
“Frenzy: Continue Survey.” Soundwave intercedes before the argument can heat further.
“Got it, boss,” Frenzy slithers deeper into the tunnel. “Hey, I think its opening up a little bit…” He notes in surprise, squeezing through the end of the tunnel, wriggling his hips and legs free.
“Anything?” Thundercracker’s voice echoes over the Cassette’s comm. link.
“No energon source, sad to say,” Frenzy scrapes the ice crystals off his chassis and legs, planting his hands on his hips, surveying the cavern, “Not much here.”
“Frenzy: Return.” Soundwave’s instructs the red and black Cassette, “Operation: Mute Point To Continue Search.”
“I hear that.” He turns, gritting his denta in preparation to shimmy head first into the tunnel once more, but a flash of color snags his attention first.
He shuffles over in the direction of red, pausing in front of the wall of ice. “Weird.” Scraping his hand down the wall, smoothing away the patches of snow; through the clear glass reflection, red and teal paint peek through the ice.
Frenzy tilts his helm back, curiosity rising. Swiping his hands across as much of the wall as he can reach, he begins to clear away the clotted, dusty snow.
With a final brush of his hand, a light gray face is staring back. Optics dark, the mech’s face settled in a serene mask as if in regular stasis cycle―if he weren’t entombed in ice.
“Holy frag!” Frenzy flops backwards, slipping and crashing onto his posterior.
“What’s going on down there?” Skywarp demands, annoyed by the radio silence and then the startled yelp of the Cassette ringing in his audios loud and clear.
Soundwave is far more concerned by what has startled his symbiote so badly, “Frenzy: Report.”
“T-There’s a mech down here,” Frenzy swallows, lubricating the inside of his dry mouth with a swipe of his glossa, “He’s completely sealed in ice. No faction symbols either, from the looks of things.” He dares to hop back towards the imprisoned stranger, glancing to see if there are any noteworthy symbols upon the mech.
“Are you serious?” Skywarp rises from his crouch over the small mouth of the tunnel. Staring at his fellow Seekers and the technopath, “If this is your Cassette’s idea of a joke, then I’m not amused, Soundwave.”
Soundwave ignores the teleporter, instead switching on his comm. link. “Lord Megatron. Request For the Constructicons Assistance.”
“Have you found my energon source?”
“Negative, Lord Megatron.” Soundwave peers towards the tunnel as Frenzy scrabbles his way free, waving his arms in excitement while the two Seekers look on with mute vocals and dry disbelief, “We Have Found Something Else That May Warrant Attention.”
+++++++++++++++
The Constructicons were arrayed throughout their lab, ringed around their offline patient, efficiently running the precise and delicate procedures to remove the hard crystals of ice, carefully and patiently warming the fragile frozen plating. Too rough, and the plates could crack and possibly shatter. Too many vorns underwater, and then encased in a frozen tomb of ice, had begun to wage havoc on the Cybertronian, no matter how advanced his dermal plating was in comparison to this miserable planet’s minerals and materials.
“Haven’t seen this model since before the War,” Scrapper shut off the portable heater shaped like a dryer, using a large durable cloth to wipe away the condensation from the melted ice.
Scavenger grunted, tugging at the microscope tray. Trying to pry it open, the latches snapping free, lined with thick ice. Carefully he snapped the ice off piece by piece, peering into the mech’s internals. “His systems must have locked up when the frigid water began to breach his seams. Look. There’s so little ice in here. When he shut down, he must have initiated a sequence to pressurize and seal his transformation seams in order to prevent further contamination.”
“Check everywhere just to be sure.” Long Haul muttered, using a thin utensil to guide a long sliver of ice from underneath the thin plating of the mech’s calf, “I’ve found enough shards on him, and if there are more tangled are certain bundles of wires and energon capillaries, then it is more work for us.”
“Stop nagging.” Bonecrusher growls, assisting Mixmaster by holding a larger beaker while the chemist carefully pours the mixture, the tonic being prepped to flush the red and teal mech’s internals of any contaminants.
“Would all of you shut up?” Hook hissed from the head of the berth, fingertips pressed to either side of the microscope’s helm. Wires connected into the small data ports of the mech’s skull frame and neck, the data readouts on the tiny computer screen reading from the equipment at his elbow. The Constructicon uses his fingers and palms, brushing the hypersensitive sensor clusters against their patient’s temples, listening to every hum and hiccup of the mech’s CPU and bundles of neural networks and hardware drives, “I am trying to work here.”
His brothers echo an apology, continuing their painstaking work, the heavy medical dishes slowly filling with the crystal shards of ice. Mixmaster inserted the syringe and intravenous drip, expertly sliding the long needle into the thin energon cable tugged and clamped securely from in between the two plates of the microscope’s forearm.
Hook murmurs in consternation when his fingertips again brush the minute depression on the microscope’s temple, hand sliding downward, following the injury, probing the dimple of metal across a red collar and teal shoulder. “Something hit him. Hard. Probably knocked him offline with one blow.”
“Didn’t break the dermal layer,” Scrapper agrees, “But had a sharp enough edge to leave a faint mark.”
“The culprit could have been any sort of equipment or cargo then.” Hook sighs with annoyance, “Still, there doesn’t appear to be damage to his mainframe. The blow probably dislocated his shoulder joint, however. I’ll repair that along with the concussed area on his temple. Might as well make him look presentable for when Lord Megatron honors us with his presence.”
+++++++++++++++
“I demand to see him!” The Seeker nearly stomps his pede in distemper, “You have no right to bar me from entering the labs!”
Megatron growls, nursing the beginning of a migraine, “Leave my Constructicons with some semblance of peace and sanity. Lest your shrieks blast their audio drums.”
Starscream hisses and spits, pacing like a feline on a hot tin roof. He turns a dark glower in the warlord’s direction.
Megatron mirrors the Seeker’s scorching glare.
“For once, use your processor.” The Decepticon leader sighs, reclining on his throne, staring down, unmoved by the mech’s piercing look, and speaks slowly, as if lecturing an indolent youngling, “You and this mech have a history…One not too dissimilar from your old ties with that Autobot Skyfire.”
“Are you implying that my loyalty is under question?” The Seeker’s lips ripple with an ugly snarl.
Megatron’s ruby gaze flares. His distemper heady amongst the tense air.
A rough guffaw of laughter from the other subordinates standing inside the large chamber, Blitzwing tosses his head, one hand on his hip, sneers at the proud Seeker, “You hardly need an excuse to stab any mech in the back. Why should I not assume that you will stray, too concerned to think with what’s between your audios, than what is between your legs.”
“How about I show you what’s between your audios!” Starscream shrieks, raising a null ray, swinging the nozzle in the triple-changer’s direction, “Starting by repainting the walls of this war room with the sludge that you call a processor!”
The other Seekers and Coneheads snarl, eager for a scuffle. Astrotrain backing up the other triple-changer, while several other Decepticons rally, hissing and baiting the hierarchy of wing-born mechs with crude slurs and taunts, eager for a reason to lay down a fight and break denta and struts.
“Enough.”
The soldiers and officers shrink at the warlord’s command, hunkering down with their proverbial tails between their legs as their leader rises to his pedes, Soundwave loyally flanking his superior.
“It would be inappropriate not to include my second and third in command while I investigate this conundrum of our guest. I expect you to behave.” Megatron aims a sharp look at the Seeker commander, “Try not to disappoint me.”
Huffing at the idea of following the warlord’s beck and call, Starscream acquiesces, but not without throwing a haughty jeer and twitch of a sneer in the triple-changers’ direction. “Don’t wait up.” Starscream laughs, cocking his hip as he strides after the warlord and technopath.
+++++++++++++++
“Switch on the second pump.” Hook administers another set of directions, frowning at the spike in readings, “we don’t want to warm him too quickly.”
Scavenger confirms his instructions by switching online the indicated equipment. Monitoring the feed, the Constructicon frowns, “Should it be taking so long?” He asks.
“Depends on how quickly his systems are integrating the energon.” Scrapper checks the intravenous lines, calculating the units of fluids being transferred into the inert form, “There aren’t any cracks in his fuel tank or any other leaks. His systems are sucking the energon down as fast as they can receive it.”
Bonecrusher snaps closed the microscope tray, wiping down the last of his tools. “I’ve removed the last contaminate,” He says while shucking the cloths into the bin prepped for the incinerator, a separate container for the kilos of ice and debris removed from the surrounding and interior of the mech’s frame. Long Haul moving the containers away once they are filled, so that the heavy canisters are not too close to their work station.
Mixmaster scowls as he preps another bag of fluids. “We need him online soon. Too much energon and you’ll either flood his tanks, or poison him, whichever comes first.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Hook scowls.
“Hold on.” Scrapper intercedes, his sharp gaze focused on the monitors, “Something’s happening.”
A blip, a hiccup in the graph of readings, steals their attention.
Long enough for the Constructicons to miss the flicker of azure light that pulses from the depths of the offline mech’s optical sockets.
Scavenger squeals in shock when the mech suddenly balks and arches off the berth. Mixmaster curses and knocks over a short table of tools as he leaps away.
The red and cobalt mech’s face twists into a silent howl of agony, a seizure trembling up his frame, hands curled and clawing at the bed of the berth whilst he shudders and twists.
“HOLD HIM!” Scrapper shouts and throws his bulk over the convulsing mech, “He’s coming online too fast! His memory files are looping the last bits of data feed that he remembers before he offlined!”
Wide blue optics twitch left and right as the smaller mech twists and kicks, his voice warbling with panic, a slur of words pouring from his lips, “Starrrrrrr…..” He moans, “…Sk…..Sky!…li…ling…Falling! I’m falling!!” His words rise into a terrified wail, the microscope’s frame flooded with a sudden desperate pulse of adrenal which strengthens him with enough desperation to buck Scrapper and Hook off him.
The confused reawakened mech’s wails escalate when he tumbles off the berth and lands upon the floor with a clang, the unexpected fall and the shock of the frigid metal floor upon his stinging shoulder and face stirs another wave of panicked confusion. The Constructicons’ labs ring with the bouncing pitch of the frightened mech’s screams as he tries to curl into a ball away from the grabbing hands and strange unrecognizable faces.
“What are you doing to him?!”
The Constructicons jerk away from the patient, guiltily shuffling away as the Seeker bursts into their labs, “He just woke up!” Long Haul bites out, angrily defending him and his brothers, “It’s not our fault that he’s a little bit scared and disorientated!”
Perceptor catches a familiar glimpse of red, white, and azure through the forest of green and purple legs and torsos. The microscope throws his hand forward in the Seeker’s direction, begging, “Starrrr…scream!”
They are quick to abandon their positions in haste when the infuriated Seeker rushes towards them like Unicron incarnate, null rays scorching hot and ready to sear their faces.
The Seeker yanks the petrified microscope into his arms, a snarl and a grimace of sharp denta aimed at the wary circle of Constructicons while the Seeker backs into a corner with his smaller partner clutched tightly within his embrace.
“Starr…” Perceptor moans against the Seeker’s cockpit, hands curled tightly around the taller mech’s shoulders, hunkered within Starscream’s arms and bracketed by firm white thighs.
Megatron scans the room with disapproving distaste, ruby optics taking note of the overturned medical berth and scattered tools and utensils, Soundwave following loyally at his side as the warlord enters the labs.
“Why do you hesitate?” Megatron’s chilly demand causes the Constructicons to shrink and hunch their shoulders, “You have done well to awaken our guest. I would like to take a better look at him for myself without the distraction of your dithering,” The warlord’s gaze narrows and his head turns to lock with the Seeker’s, “Starscream. Step away from him.”
“Fuck you!” The Seeker verbally punches the air with the human explicative. His arms only tighten further around his partner.
Megatron sighs, huge shoulders collapsing with the weight of annoyance. He addresses the Constructicons, “Bring our guest to me so that Soundwave and I may have a better look.”
The Constructicons delay for only a few seconds. Fearing Megatron’s fury more than they feared the Seeker’s shrieks and indignation, the mechs rush the Seeker and microscope pair.
+++++++++++++++