Lover 100 - "Help Her" - Discovery
Re-posting some old fics here because the site that used to host them isn't online anymore. Fics feature my OC Pursuit. She is Prowl's creator, hails from Praxus and has a similar physical structure to him in that she's monochromatic (black and light grey), has doorwings and a red chevron.
For more info about her and related characters, and the rest of the completed stories, please see: this entry
Title: Help Her
Fandom: Transformers G1
Characters/Pairings: Flattop, Triage, and a special guest. Mentions of Pursuit.
Table: A
Prompt: #044 Discovery.
Rating: G
Genre: Relationships; family
Word Count: 1,929
Summary: Flattop and Triage go to Cybertron seeking aid for Pursuit. What they find was something completely unexpected.
Disclaimer: Flattop and Triage belong to Tirya.
Author Notes: Takes place when Flattop and Pursuit are based on Earth, and Charade has already been created.
Flattop removed his fist from the fairly large dent he’d put in the nearby wall, barely even registering the pain and the couple of sparking wires now exposed after he’d scraped off the metal skin. His handsome face was creased into a dark scowl, and the only reason he’d punched the wall instead of his creator was because his sister had dragged him away before he could.
Triage sighed and reached for his hand to check on the damage, pulling out a role of magna-tape to bind the wound and keep infection out. He watched her work without a word, noting the small dent on her cheek where the old fragger had tried to hit her. He would have landed a hard one, too, had he not pulled her out of the way so that he just grazed her instead.
“You’re lucky it’s just a scratch,” she said, putting the tape away and looking at him.
“Should have let me beat some sense into him,” Flattop growled.
“Top, whatever he is, he’s still our creator. Besides, what good would it have done?”
“He would have given us the parts, that’s what.”
“It would have made him all the more stubborn, you know that.”
Flattop looked as if he wanted to hit something again.
Triage placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t. Save your anger for later. We can't waste time patching you up for every tantrum you throw. Think of Pursuit.”
That sobered him. His beloved mate was back on Earth, afflicted with what was known as systems corruption. Humans thought that Cybertronians lived forever, but that was far from the truth. Cybertronians lived long, but not forever. They died eventually as well, and systems corruptions was one of the most common forms of termination.
After millions of years in existence, Pursuit’s systems had finally reached the point where they were starting to wear and break down, and as a civilian, she wasn’t entitled to any upgrades. Those in the military were entitled to compulsory upgrades once every few centuries - both sides couldn’t afford to lose fighters after all - but the civilians, they were more expendable.
Not his Pursuit. He didn’t care if he had to storm the High Council to get parts to repair her, he was NOT going to lose her. She meant too much him to just give her up. He’d take on Primus himself if it came down to it.
“I am thinking of her. So what do we do? We can’t get the parts through official means because our glitched-up creator refuses to have them cleared, and I don’t have any other sources to go through.” He spun away and continued down the street, letting Triage catch up with him. “I can't lose her, Tri.” He stopped when she didn’t reply. “Tri?”
Turning around, he saw her standing where they had been, another dark-looking mech blocking her path. Cursing, he rushed back as the two headed into an alley. Just what was his sister thinking following some strange mech into a potentially deserted area? He didn’t have time for this!
Charging into the alley he was about to tackle the other mech when Triage jumped in between them.
“Wait!”
Flattop pulled himself to a stop just in time. “Triage! What the frag do you think you’re doing?!”
The femme flinched a little. “He… he said he could help.” She gestured to the other mech who hadn’t moved.
“Help with what?” Flattop eyed him suspiciously.
The mech was cloaked in a dark hologram that prevented them from getting a proper look at him, or from being able to make out any defining features. Only his face was partially visible, and keen blue optics shone back at them.
“You’re in need of parts repair someone. I can help you,” he said.
“How?” The flier glared at him.
“I have my own connections, lad.” The mech didn’t back down. “The femme tells me you need them for your mate, another femme, down on Earth?”
“How do you know we were looking for parts?”
“I was nearby, I overheard. Her name is… Pursuit?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Top, if he can help her, what have we got to lose?” Triage asked quietly.
The jet’s tensed wings lowered a little, but he still didn’t relax, looking for something that would tell him he could trust the mech. It was clear he was an Autobot, but it still puzzled him as to why a complete stranger would offer to help someone he obviously didn’t know. No one did anything for nothing these days.
“What is your name? And what do you want from us in return for your helping us?” Flattop asked.
“You can call me Guard. As for my payment, I will decide on it once you tell me what it is you really need and how much of it,” the mech replied.
Flattop sighed. He would have liked to check up on this mech more, but time was pressing and Pursuit needed those parts. Maybe she wasn’t going to die in the next couple of Earth decades or so, but he hated seeing her in pain and wanted to heal her as soon as possible. Neither did he want to be away for longer than was necessary, because he missed her.
“Yes, it’s for a femme,” he said at last. “My mate, Pursuit. She’s… she’s started systems corruption, and I have to save her.”
Guard’s optics brightened a little. “Follow me.”
… He led them to a sector of Iacon that soon became all too familiar to Flattop, and instinctively he placed an arm around Triage’s shoulders, weapons at the ready incase he needed to draw them. The High Council preferred to think this sector didn’t exist, but the place was a reality and thriving.
“You sell parts on the black market,” Flattop said.
“Not everyone is as lucky to be in the military, or as privileged to be able to bribe someone for them, lad,” Guard replied. “As I’m sure you know.”
The jet nodded. “Are they good?”
“We pool our resources to get the best genuine materials we can, though now and then we mix a couple of substitutes in to stretch it as far as possible across the market. Genuine stuff is hard to come by these days.”
“How long will they last a bot?” Triage asked. She stayed close to Flattop and eyed the surroundings warily.
“Fairly long. At least a few more millenia.” He smiled at her - a warm, friendly smile. “You needn’t be afraid of harm here. As long as you’re with me, no one will dare try anything on either of you, if they value their hides.” He turned a corner. “So this femme of yours, you love her?”
Flattop gave a bit of a snort. “I’d die for her. She’s everything to me.”
“And they have a son, too,” Triage added. “Well, it’s her second son, but her first with him. Her first son she created on her own. You may have heard of him - Prowl.”
“I see. Yes, I think I have heard of Prowl. Part of Optimus Prime’s crew.”
She nodded. “That’s him.”
“Must be a very special femme then.”
Flattop smiled fondly. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, maybe I do.” He stopped in front of a small building and ushered them in. “Here we are.”
Inside was a small manufacturing plant that produced a wide variety of parts, but Guard led them right past the mass produced ones. He stopped in front of a group of mechs who were working on a series of machines and got their attention.
“Alright, listen up. I need a complete set of 100% genuine material parts. Do NOT stint on them or I’ll use your hides as target practice, and I want them packed and ready to go as soon as possible. Now cut the slag and get to it. This is what I need.”
Guard started to call out parts, and Flattop found himself frowning deeper and deeper with every named piece. Triage looked a little shocked as well. As soon as the older mech was done, Flattop grabbed him and pulled him over to a corner, optics shining dangerously.
“Alright, what are you trying to pull?” he snapped. “How do you know what parts we need when we haven't even showed you her schematics?”
To their surprise, the mech laughed. “Lad, I don’t need to see the schematics of a femme that I put together all those years ago. I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to.”
Flattop was floored. Triage let out a squeak of surprise. Guard deactivated the cloak and they saw his true form. The doors, the bright red chevron and the mostly black and dark grey coloration. There was no mistaking who’s creator this was.
“You… you’re Pursuit’s father!” Flattop managed.
“I am. The name’s Patrol. I’m sorry about the secrecy, but I had to be sure I could trust you as well, before revealing myself and the location of this place. For all I knew you were another Official,” he said. “Now what’s this about my little femme being sick, and who’s the fragger that’s being refusing her parts?” A rather large shotgun appeared in his hand.
Flattop gulped. “Doesn’t matter now, I mean, you’re taking care of it right? Who better than her creator?”
Patrol eyed the mech. “So you’re the one she mated in the end hmm? How has she been? You treating her right, keepin’ her happy?”
“Yes, sir.”
Triage stifled a giggle, watching her big brother cower slightly before the very mech he was threatening only a moment ago. “He adores her. We wouldn’t have come all this way if he didn’t. And he saved her life.”
Patrol regarded him. “Did you now?”
“Y-yeah. I’m sure you know about Praxus. I found her, got her to help.” Flattop looked back at him.
The older mech grunted. “Had to fall for a flier, but… as long as she’s happy.”
“Patrol, I love her. She’s my life.”
The mech sighed. “I know lad, I can tell, that’s why I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you get those parts to her.”
“Thank you.” Flattop paused for a moment. “Wont you come back with us? She’d love to see you again, I know.”
“Nothing would please me more than to see my little one again, but there’s things that need to be done here. This place needs to be looked after, and I need to make sure I can trust the person I leave it to before I can even think of heading off-planet. I will try though, as soon as I am able, now that I know where she is.”
“We’ll look out for you then.” Flattop held out a hand.
“You do that.” Patrol took it and gave it a firm shake.
Triage watched them, half-amused and half-concerned. This was something as old as the universe itself - the rivalry between creator and the creation’s mate over a common love. Either way it was going to be interesting to see how Flattop and Patrol would co-exist.
END.