Title: Revelations have fallout
Title: Revelations have fallout
By Fianna9
Sequel “Discoveries lead to revelations”
Verse: G1
Rating: PG13
Other Characters: Smokescreen, Lancer, Greenlight, Windcharger
Other Pairings so far: Chromia/Ironhide, Wheeljack/Ratchet
Warnings: minor Cybertronian cursing, mention of slash and interface, mpreg (in nongendered mechanical beings)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the universe.
Summary: Everyone was waiting for the other bolt to drop. The cascade has begun.
Well, this took longer than I expected. None of the characters wanted to cooperate. Not a part of a challenge.
A/N:
grounded = seeker slang for Praxian doorwing mechs (flightless descendents of seekers)
wing-spawn = derogatory Praxian slang for seekers
italics = internal thoughts
bold = external comm
--------------
Lancer crouched within the burned-out ruins of the old shop, watching as a small flight of Seekers zoomed overhead towards Shockwave’s tower. After the patrol passed, Greenlight joined the orange femme in the shell. It’s cover had served them well recently as they monitored the activity around Shockwave’s fortress. The Seekers had increased activity all across Cybertron, and the femmes were observing in hopes of figuring out what this new activity meant for the Autobot forces.
Both were aware of a recent communiqué from Earth, but the information in the message was still secret from them. They did know that the commanders were rumored to have exhibited strange behaviors shortly after decoding it. They knew Elita One seemed both concerned and perplexed by the missive, but Chromia broke out in chuckles every time anyone mentioned the message. Strangest of all, Ultra Magnus was rumored to have burst out laughing after he received it. Secretly, both femmes hoped to be included in the joke; they could use a good laugh after spending so long fighting.
------------
Jazz hummed lightly as he headed down the corridor for home, tossing a friendly wave to Beachcomber as he strolled by clutching a large cluster of red and pink crystals to his chestplate. Having just finished his nightly check-in on Bluestreak and Dead End, Jazz was looking forward to spending some time alone with his mate. For once Prowl had actually left his office on time. With a nod to the camera and a cheerful goodnight to Red Alert, he stepped into their quarters.
Jazz paused as the door closed behind him, the lack of light and sound erasing the smile from his face. Even in the darkness he could see Prowl lying facing the wall, one sensory panel hanging over the edge of the berth. Quietly, he walked over to sit on the far side of the berth facing Prowl. Processor crash, love?
“No.” Prowl spoke quietly, optics still offline as he reached for Jazz’s arm. “The current situation requires some final adjustments to my plans, and a few of the variables still in play have my processor and programming in flux.”
“Maybe I can help?” Jazz relaxed, much less concerned now that he knew Prowl hadn’t crashed. “Dead End still a problem for ya?”
Prowl flicked a sensory wing lightly at him. “I have no issue with your promise to Dead End, Jazz. Your methods have helped him recognize his place here and are a milder form of the discipline he is used to receiving giving him some consistency in his existence. I accept that he requires a more aggressive form of handling compared to most younglings at his stage of development.”
With a rueful grin, Jazz chuckled lightly. “Knew that wouldn’t get past ya, mech. You got the rest of the Stunties figured out now?”
“I have determined acceptable caregivers for the other four Stunticons. With proper, timely assistance they should be salvageable as troubled but still productive Cybertronians.” Prowl shifted slightly towards Jazz, frowning as he spoke. “Their group dynamic is extremely dysfunctional and damaging. They will do better in separate, structured environments with carefully monitored contact as they heal and repair their gestalt bond. Unfortunately, one of the critical potential caregivers is not currently available.”
“And the longer they stay with the Decepticons the worse they get.” Jazz concluded. “So is this particular caregiver for a one in particular?”
“Motormaster…yes even Motormaster needs a caregiver, Jazz, stop frowning like that. Megatron either doesn’t care or has forgotten that Vector Sigma mechs still need guidance to develop properly. It has become obvious that the Stunticons have suffered because of his negligence.” Prowl’s engine growled unhappily. “For all his faults Starscream managed to keep the Combaticons mostly stable as they developed their nontraditional gestalt bond.”
“He lucked out with Onslaught being able to corral the others without resorting to Motor’s methods, even if Vortex is a psychotic glitch. So, are you still worried about the sparkling?” Jazz reached over and gently rubbed Prowl’s neck cable.
“Worried, no, however I would appreciate your input in regards to our offspring’s extraction status and development.” Prowl shifted to allow Jazz better access to the tensest spots. “We must finalize our decision soon due to Wheeljack and Hoist needing direction on the new frame specifications. I have been formulating lists of advantages and ramifications to each method for discussion with you.”
“Let’s hear it.’ Jazz pulled most of his attention away from his mate’s frame to focus on their offspring.
“My tactical processor’s analysis is that the new spark will be more useful and have a higher survival prospect if we extract directly into an adult frame with full preprogrammed functionality as was done with the Dinobots. Gestalts have proven successful coming from this method via Vector Sigma.” Prowl paused for a moment. “However most gestalts are renewed sparks using their gestalt connection as a foundation for their finalized development. The Dinobots are successes in regards to survival, but they demonstrate some of the quirks that can develop for new sparks extracted in this manner. Your thoughts?”
Jazz continued rubbing the strained cable as he mulled over this option. “I don’t think we should go full adult, love. The Dinos were special cases, and ya know Hatchet and ‘Jack agonized over doing that to them. The first three had almost no chance of surviving any other way; we both know what kind of shape the army was really in then. At least the second time around everyone knew what we were doing wouldn’t mess ‘em up too badly even if it limited their abilities. If we don’t need to do it to any other sparklings, we shouldn’t.”
“Agreed, although I do not believe they are quite as limited as we initially assumed. As a brooder I would prefer to start this new life as a sparkling and let it grow into its own desired framework as you and I did. Statistically this is the method least likely to cause critical personality problems in individuals, but the survival rate for sparklings in a warzone is depressingly decreased.”
Jazz thought about it for a moment. “We’ve got a lot more troops now, and the little bit should be safe. Maybe we should compromise and do a half-frame. It’d still get to grow but it wouldn’t be as underfoot or vulnerable.”
Prowl onlined his optics. “I am pleased that we are in agreement on a frame. I will begin discussion with the medical team regarding frame construction.”
“Pity we won’t get to use all the sparkling stuff the mechs ’ve been making.” Jazz sighed, glancing wistfully at the new door in their room.
“It is unlikely their efforts will go to waste. In addition to our offspring’s needed frame, we will need to begin leaving a few smaller frames where the Decepticons can discover them.” Prowl reached over and lightly stroked Jazz’s leg. “The wingspawn will start breeding in earnest now that they know they have a brooder to take care of their offspring. Megatron will be more likely to see sparklings as liabilities and be willing to get rid of them by depositing them with us. I would prefer he did not start viewing half-frame younglings as soldiers for his army. It will also be easier on Ratchet if the new sparks start out in decent frames.”
“Right then, we tell ‘Jack to make a lot of frames of different sizes so everyone’s got a choice. Skyfire might wanna spark up too and that’d be a mega-size sparkling. You know Hound would take a little bitlet in a sparkbeat wings or not; he loves this planet and wants to share it. Pit, he’s probably gonna spark up himself given half the chance.” Jazz snickered at Prowl’s glare. “Sorry, thought the ‘no cursing’ rule was only around the extracted young on’s.”
“Since the situation with this sparkling is resolved, I propose we practice creating another one.” Engine growling, Prowl reached up and pulled a very willing Jazz down next to him.
------------
“Happy Christmas grounded!” Skywarp shouted as he leaped out from behind a hill.
“It’s May, you cross-wired ninny.” Smokescreen dove behind a tree, cursing as the teleporter popped out of sensory range. After a moment, another pop sounded from behind the hill. He could now detect at least three unidentified potentially hostile units in the area as well as the crazy Seeker. Skyfire, what’s your eta?
Arriving with back up in ten minutes. You’re status?
Currently uninjured but outnumbered.
“Then, Merry Brooder’s Day!” Skywarp cried merrily as he took off into the sky.
Straining his sensors, Smokescreen could hear muffled, unintelligible sounds and faint scrapes of metal. After no hostile incoming fire started, he pondered the crazy seeker’s parting words. Carefully, he edged around the tree and made his way towards the signatures, blaster out and ready. Still only hearing faint sounds, he edged around the hill towards the noises.
Looking around, he couldn’t help but stare at the three figures on the ground in front of him. Wildrider was struggling furiously trying to break free from stasis cuffs and thick black cabling wrapped around his limbs. Smokescreen had to admit the bow on his shoulder was a nice but sloppy touch. A gray metal plate welded on his mouth had “to fowl mouthed for little audios” scrawled across it in glaring purple paint.
Huddled a little ways away from the Stunticon were two smaller forms. The half-sized, dull green mech was shielding the other with his slightly larger frame. Almost the size of a minibot, he was clearly the oldest. A slightly smaller white, red and pink femme kept peering out from behind his shoulders, keeping a close optic on both of the adults. After a few moments searching for the remaining spark signal he realized the red on the femme was a tiny sparkling latched firmly onto her chestplate. Smokescreen put his blaster away and carefully raised his arms, keeping a firm optic on Wildrider while he scanned the youngsters to check on their general condition.
Tell the others no weapons out. The wing-spawn have started bring us gifts. Looking at the almost-rusting patchwork armor on the two younglings, he sighed. Prowl and Ratchet are going to blow gaskets over this.
------------
Disregarding the hesitant enthusiasm slipping through the gestalt bond, Blades rose to object but was cut off as Windcharger yelped at Prowl in disbelief. “What do you mean, Brawn and I have a new assignment?”
By Fianna9
Sequel “Discoveries lead to revelations”
Verse: G1
Rating: PG13
Other Characters: Smokescreen, Lancer, Greenlight, Windcharger
Other Pairings so far: Chromia/Ironhide, Wheeljack/Ratchet
Warnings: minor Cybertronian cursing, mention of slash and interface, mpreg (in nongendered mechanical beings)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the universe.
Summary: Everyone was waiting for the other bolt to drop. The cascade has begun.
Well, this took longer than I expected. None of the characters wanted to cooperate. Not a part of a challenge.
A/N:
grounded = seeker slang for Praxian doorwing mechs (flightless descendents of seekers)
wing-spawn = derogatory Praxian slang for seekers
italics = internal thoughts
bold = external comm
--------------
Lancer crouched within the burned-out ruins of the old shop, watching as a small flight of Seekers zoomed overhead towards Shockwave’s tower. After the patrol passed, Greenlight joined the orange femme in the shell. It’s cover had served them well recently as they monitored the activity around Shockwave’s fortress. The Seekers had increased activity all across Cybertron, and the femmes were observing in hopes of figuring out what this new activity meant for the Autobot forces.
Both were aware of a recent communiqué from Earth, but the information in the message was still secret from them. They did know that the commanders were rumored to have exhibited strange behaviors shortly after decoding it. They knew Elita One seemed both concerned and perplexed by the missive, but Chromia broke out in chuckles every time anyone mentioned the message. Strangest of all, Ultra Magnus was rumored to have burst out laughing after he received it. Secretly, both femmes hoped to be included in the joke; they could use a good laugh after spending so long fighting.
------------
Jazz hummed lightly as he headed down the corridor for home, tossing a friendly wave to Beachcomber as he strolled by clutching a large cluster of red and pink crystals to his chestplate. Having just finished his nightly check-in on Bluestreak and Dead End, Jazz was looking forward to spending some time alone with his mate. For once Prowl had actually left his office on time. With a nod to the camera and a cheerful goodnight to Red Alert, he stepped into their quarters.
Jazz paused as the door closed behind him, the lack of light and sound erasing the smile from his face. Even in the darkness he could see Prowl lying facing the wall, one sensory panel hanging over the edge of the berth. Quietly, he walked over to sit on the far side of the berth facing Prowl. Processor crash, love?
“No.” Prowl spoke quietly, optics still offline as he reached for Jazz’s arm. “The current situation requires some final adjustments to my plans, and a few of the variables still in play have my processor and programming in flux.”
“Maybe I can help?” Jazz relaxed, much less concerned now that he knew Prowl hadn’t crashed. “Dead End still a problem for ya?”
Prowl flicked a sensory wing lightly at him. “I have no issue with your promise to Dead End, Jazz. Your methods have helped him recognize his place here and are a milder form of the discipline he is used to receiving giving him some consistency in his existence. I accept that he requires a more aggressive form of handling compared to most younglings at his stage of development.”
With a rueful grin, Jazz chuckled lightly. “Knew that wouldn’t get past ya, mech. You got the rest of the Stunties figured out now?”
“I have determined acceptable caregivers for the other four Stunticons. With proper, timely assistance they should be salvageable as troubled but still productive Cybertronians.” Prowl shifted slightly towards Jazz, frowning as he spoke. “Their group dynamic is extremely dysfunctional and damaging. They will do better in separate, structured environments with carefully monitored contact as they heal and repair their gestalt bond. Unfortunately, one of the critical potential caregivers is not currently available.”
“And the longer they stay with the Decepticons the worse they get.” Jazz concluded. “So is this particular caregiver for a one in particular?”
“Motormaster…yes even Motormaster needs a caregiver, Jazz, stop frowning like that. Megatron either doesn’t care or has forgotten that Vector Sigma mechs still need guidance to develop properly. It has become obvious that the Stunticons have suffered because of his negligence.” Prowl’s engine growled unhappily. “For all his faults Starscream managed to keep the Combaticons mostly stable as they developed their nontraditional gestalt bond.”
“He lucked out with Onslaught being able to corral the others without resorting to Motor’s methods, even if Vortex is a psychotic glitch. So, are you still worried about the sparkling?” Jazz reached over and gently rubbed Prowl’s neck cable.
“Worried, no, however I would appreciate your input in regards to our offspring’s extraction status and development.” Prowl shifted to allow Jazz better access to the tensest spots. “We must finalize our decision soon due to Wheeljack and Hoist needing direction on the new frame specifications. I have been formulating lists of advantages and ramifications to each method for discussion with you.”
“Let’s hear it.’ Jazz pulled most of his attention away from his mate’s frame to focus on their offspring.
“My tactical processor’s analysis is that the new spark will be more useful and have a higher survival prospect if we extract directly into an adult frame with full preprogrammed functionality as was done with the Dinobots. Gestalts have proven successful coming from this method via Vector Sigma.” Prowl paused for a moment. “However most gestalts are renewed sparks using their gestalt connection as a foundation for their finalized development. The Dinobots are successes in regards to survival, but they demonstrate some of the quirks that can develop for new sparks extracted in this manner. Your thoughts?”
Jazz continued rubbing the strained cable as he mulled over this option. “I don’t think we should go full adult, love. The Dinos were special cases, and ya know Hatchet and ‘Jack agonized over doing that to them. The first three had almost no chance of surviving any other way; we both know what kind of shape the army was really in then. At least the second time around everyone knew what we were doing wouldn’t mess ‘em up too badly even if it limited their abilities. If we don’t need to do it to any other sparklings, we shouldn’t.”
“Agreed, although I do not believe they are quite as limited as we initially assumed. As a brooder I would prefer to start this new life as a sparkling and let it grow into its own desired framework as you and I did. Statistically this is the method least likely to cause critical personality problems in individuals, but the survival rate for sparklings in a warzone is depressingly decreased.”
Jazz thought about it for a moment. “We’ve got a lot more troops now, and the little bit should be safe. Maybe we should compromise and do a half-frame. It’d still get to grow but it wouldn’t be as underfoot or vulnerable.”
Prowl onlined his optics. “I am pleased that we are in agreement on a frame. I will begin discussion with the medical team regarding frame construction.”
“Pity we won’t get to use all the sparkling stuff the mechs ’ve been making.” Jazz sighed, glancing wistfully at the new door in their room.
“It is unlikely their efforts will go to waste. In addition to our offspring’s needed frame, we will need to begin leaving a few smaller frames where the Decepticons can discover them.” Prowl reached over and lightly stroked Jazz’s leg. “The wingspawn will start breeding in earnest now that they know they have a brooder to take care of their offspring. Megatron will be more likely to see sparklings as liabilities and be willing to get rid of them by depositing them with us. I would prefer he did not start viewing half-frame younglings as soldiers for his army. It will also be easier on Ratchet if the new sparks start out in decent frames.”
“Right then, we tell ‘Jack to make a lot of frames of different sizes so everyone’s got a choice. Skyfire might wanna spark up too and that’d be a mega-size sparkling. You know Hound would take a little bitlet in a sparkbeat wings or not; he loves this planet and wants to share it. Pit, he’s probably gonna spark up himself given half the chance.” Jazz snickered at Prowl’s glare. “Sorry, thought the ‘no cursing’ rule was only around the extracted young on’s.”
“Since the situation with this sparkling is resolved, I propose we practice creating another one.” Engine growling, Prowl reached up and pulled a very willing Jazz down next to him.
------------
“Happy Christmas grounded!” Skywarp shouted as he leaped out from behind a hill.
“It’s May, you cross-wired ninny.” Smokescreen dove behind a tree, cursing as the teleporter popped out of sensory range. After a moment, another pop sounded from behind the hill. He could now detect at least three unidentified potentially hostile units in the area as well as the crazy Seeker. Skyfire, what’s your eta?
Arriving with back up in ten minutes. You’re status?
Currently uninjured but outnumbered.
“Then, Merry Brooder’s Day!” Skywarp cried merrily as he took off into the sky.
Straining his sensors, Smokescreen could hear muffled, unintelligible sounds and faint scrapes of metal. After no hostile incoming fire started, he pondered the crazy seeker’s parting words. Carefully, he edged around the tree and made his way towards the signatures, blaster out and ready. Still only hearing faint sounds, he edged around the hill towards the noises.
Looking around, he couldn’t help but stare at the three figures on the ground in front of him. Wildrider was struggling furiously trying to break free from stasis cuffs and thick black cabling wrapped around his limbs. Smokescreen had to admit the bow on his shoulder was a nice but sloppy touch. A gray metal plate welded on his mouth had “to fowl mouthed for little audios” scrawled across it in glaring purple paint.
Huddled a little ways away from the Stunticon were two smaller forms. The half-sized, dull green mech was shielding the other with his slightly larger frame. Almost the size of a minibot, he was clearly the oldest. A slightly smaller white, red and pink femme kept peering out from behind his shoulders, keeping a close optic on both of the adults. After a few moments searching for the remaining spark signal he realized the red on the femme was a tiny sparkling latched firmly onto her chestplate. Smokescreen put his blaster away and carefully raised his arms, keeping a firm optic on Wildrider while he scanned the youngsters to check on their general condition.
Tell the others no weapons out. The wing-spawn have started bring us gifts. Looking at the almost-rusting patchwork armor on the two younglings, he sighed. Prowl and Ratchet are going to blow gaskets over this.
------------
Disregarding the hesitant enthusiasm slipping through the gestalt bond, Blades rose to object but was cut off as Windcharger yelped at Prowl in disbelief. “What do you mean, Brawn and I have a new assignment?”