That is NOT a vampire. It sparkles. Ergo, it's obviously a fairy godmother.
Title: The Nine Rings of Vos: Defection
A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: The best cover is one that is true. That doesn't make doing the job any easier though.
Timeline: More fic here.
=/=
(In which Hound receives orders.)
When the news about the disappearance of the Decepticon Seekers was announced, Hound had a hard time containing his reaction. Never before had it been so difficult to keep himself within the limits of ‘Autobot Hound’. The tracker Seeker wanted to leap, to dance, to scream his exhilaration to the skies, but instead Hound sat in the rec room and listened to the gossip, unable to bring himself to join in. Hound knew where to Seekers had gone, and that knowledge had plunged his existence among to Autobots into uncertainty. The Seekers had pulled out of Decepticon territory, a signal Hound had long been waiting for. The endgame was beginning. If Hound knew his Winglords, the Flightless scattered among the Decepticons would gradually pull out as the opportunities arose, until a few volunteers were left behind to keep an optic on Megatron. They were so close. They had been working towards this time for so long…
“Hey Hound!” Bumblebee plopped down into the seat next to the green tracker. “Did you hear about what’s been happening with the Cons? Starscream stole most of Megatron’s air forces! Now nobody knows where the Seekers are. What do you think about that?”
“Aw, Starscream probably got tired of taking slag from Megatron and ran away.” Hound said with a snort and a mental apology to his Winglord for impugning his honour. “I’m actually surprised it didn’t happen sooner! You have to be some kind of crazy to stick with a mech that would shoot you soon as look at you.”
“Oh yeah!” Bumblebee snickered. “That makes so much sense!”
“I know.” Hound finished off the energon he had been meditating on for the past few breems and stood up with an apologetic grin. “Sorry to cut out on you Bee, but I should probably get some recharge while I have the chance.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal.” Bumblebee waved Hound off with an understanding smile. “Go get some rest. I’ll see you later Hound.”
“Sure thing Bee.” Hound said amicably and turned to leave. Cliffjumper caught his optic on the way out with a questioning look. A quick shrug let the mini know that there was still no news from Vos. Cliffjumper’s scowl deepened. The disguised Gregale did not enjoy flying blind any more than Hound did.
The waiting was worse on Cliffjumper than on Hound. At least when Hound had joined the Autobots as a deep cover agent he had known that there was a possibility of divided loyalties. Even thought his first loyalty was to his Winglords (as was only proper) Hound was truly loyal to Optimus Prime as well (which, painfully, was also proper). After so long as a member of the Prime’s handpicked crew, it was impossible to deny the attachment Hound felt towards the Autobots. Poor Cliffjumper had joined simply because Optimus had given him a good feeling. The mini mostly operated on instinct. Luckily for his continued function, Cliffjumper had good instincts. Even with all his training, it was hard for Hound to keep things from the current Prime. He wanted to go up to Optimus and explain everything. Unlike many Cybertronians, the inherently empathic nature of Seekers left them more aware of certain issues that other mechs would remain blissfully unaware of. Hound had seen Sentinel Prime all of once, and then only from a distance during a public troop address right at the beginning of his mission, but he could still remember how wrong the mech had felt. The Matrix had been crying, like a Creator torn from their offspring. It had made Hound sick to his spark, to witness the perversion of the position of Prime. Then came Optimus, and Hound’s mission had at once become far more enjoyable, and far more difficult. Optimus was what a Prime should be. The Matrix fairly sang with joy, bound to the spark of a mech worthy of it. It tugged at Hound’s spark, linked to Seekers who had long since passed on to the Well. Optimus took good care of the Ancestors Wisdom, and every Seeker he encountered could feel it, in their sparks. There would be no issues about Optimus taking over Cybertron once the War ended. Optimus knew his duty, and the Seekers would honour and respect that dedication. It would be telling though, when it came time to explain things, exactly how much the Winglords would inform Optimus Prime off. If they deemed him worthy of learning the full truth… hm. It may still well come to that in the end, in order to get the Autobots to let the Seekers be.
Hound cycled his optics in a blink, having made it to his quarters while lost in thought. Glad to have reached his room without incident, Hound vented a quiet sigh of relief when the door closed and locked behind him.
Pausing after only a few steps Hound carefully looked around his quarters, frowning thoughtfully. Something was off. Small warnings were pinging his processors. Optics narrow, Hound prowled around the room, looking for a clue as to what setting off his alarms. It came in the form of a datapad full of images of Cybertronian landscapes and wildlife from before the war. A faint, familiar scent lingered in the air, stronger on the pad. Hound smiled, optics lighting up in relief.
~Foxglove…~ Hound sat on his berth, the sudden relaxation of tension stealing strength from his legs. Hound’s phase-shifting Imprinted did not often take the risk of bringing Hound’s rare orders all the way into the Autobot base, but it was good to have tangible proof that he had not been forgotten in all of the excitement that was taking place on the other side of the battle line.
Keying in the appropriate code, Hound watched as the image of a pile of turbo-fox cubs was replaced with the elegant, interconnected glyphs of the written Seeker language. As with all manner of Seeker communication, the written form was as much artistic as it was functional. To a non-Seeker it was gibberish. Pretty, but still meaningless babble. A human reading it would mistake it for poetry. Isolating each glyph to be read as an individual as was common practice was useless. Even were it translated into Standard, each glyph had many different meanings. Each glyph was dependent on which glyphs came before and after it to provide the proper context, which in turn yielded the meaning. Unlike the Cant, the written form was not instinctive. It had to be learned. Reading Seeker glyphs required being taught how. There was little risk in keeping the pad. It would not look suspicious for Hound’s character to keep nature files. Mostly though, Hound wanted to hang on to the little reminder of home and his parents. Most of the scenery was from the Highlands of Vos.
Once finished reading, Hound shut off the pad with a relieved sigh.
Hold the course. All is proceeding as planned.
It was good to have orders, Hound mused. Not having a goal was slightly frightening. It gave him too much space to think. About how he was on the most basic level lying to his Prime. Deceiving his lovers. Betraying his friends. He was doing it for what he truly believed to be good reasons. It was really for the best. Yet Hound knew that very few of the Autobots would see it that way. All they would see was a Seeker who had tricked them into trusting them. If things went badly, Hound knew that he might never be able to recover the relationships he had built among the Autobots. Still, the Endgame had begun. The first moves of the final maneuvers had been played. It was too late to turn back now. It was up to Hound and the other Seeker agents in influence to Autobots into the right frame of mind. When Megatron was disposed of, the Seekers were going to play a major role. Hopefully, it would be enough to make the Prime sympathetic to their requests. Hound had a feeling that once it was all laid on the table Optimus would be an easy sell. They had more than enough proof of the Senate’s abuse to satisfy even Red Alert’s finickiness. The rest of the Autobots, however, were not so open-minded. After fighting as enemies for so long it was going to take a lot of doing to change the popular opinion of Seekers. That task was in large part up to Hound and his fellow Seekerkin.
~You don’t ask for much, do you Winglords?~ Hound huffed and chuckled, tucking the pad away. As well, a Seeker agent’s job is never done. At least the work was never boring.
(Word Count: 1454)
=/=
Mwaha. We're getting into the fun stuff now. XP And by fun stuff, I mean the reason why the Seekers know that they're going to get away with all the slag they've pulled during the war. *glees!*
So my eye hurts like a bugger. I don't know if it was my contact drying out or something getting stuck under it or what, but the white is all red and vieny and it hurts to blink. Plus, my ankles are all swollen and sore. Mum says the ankles thing is lymph drainage malfunction, which can be fixed by exerciseing more. I think my mother believes that getting sweaty is the answer to everything. Still, I hopped on the eliptical for a half hour anyway, since that was the plan all along. (Must stop jiggling when I walk! Ninja go!) I have an appointment with my cranial sacral therapist tomorrow, maybe she can so something to help.
Here there be dragons! So... does anyone have one of the four new eggs that they are willing to provide me? Reward is, once again, one post updating the fic of your choice per egg. Also: Legendary Trio's Summon feature giving you the cool new Legendary Egg. Is nifty? Yes. Is frustrating when it fails? HELL. YES.
♠
♣
♠
♣
♠
♣
A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: The best cover is one that is true. That doesn't make doing the job any easier though.
Timeline: More fic here.
=/=
(In which Hound receives orders.)
When the news about the disappearance of the Decepticon Seekers was announced, Hound had a hard time containing his reaction. Never before had it been so difficult to keep himself within the limits of ‘Autobot Hound’. The tracker Seeker wanted to leap, to dance, to scream his exhilaration to the skies, but instead Hound sat in the rec room and listened to the gossip, unable to bring himself to join in. Hound knew where to Seekers had gone, and that knowledge had plunged his existence among to Autobots into uncertainty. The Seekers had pulled out of Decepticon territory, a signal Hound had long been waiting for. The endgame was beginning. If Hound knew his Winglords, the Flightless scattered among the Decepticons would gradually pull out as the opportunities arose, until a few volunteers were left behind to keep an optic on Megatron. They were so close. They had been working towards this time for so long…
“Hey Hound!” Bumblebee plopped down into the seat next to the green tracker. “Did you hear about what’s been happening with the Cons? Starscream stole most of Megatron’s air forces! Now nobody knows where the Seekers are. What do you think about that?”
“Aw, Starscream probably got tired of taking slag from Megatron and ran away.” Hound said with a snort and a mental apology to his Winglord for impugning his honour. “I’m actually surprised it didn’t happen sooner! You have to be some kind of crazy to stick with a mech that would shoot you soon as look at you.”
“Oh yeah!” Bumblebee snickered. “That makes so much sense!”
“I know.” Hound finished off the energon he had been meditating on for the past few breems and stood up with an apologetic grin. “Sorry to cut out on you Bee, but I should probably get some recharge while I have the chance.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal.” Bumblebee waved Hound off with an understanding smile. “Go get some rest. I’ll see you later Hound.”
“Sure thing Bee.” Hound said amicably and turned to leave. Cliffjumper caught his optic on the way out with a questioning look. A quick shrug let the mini know that there was still no news from Vos. Cliffjumper’s scowl deepened. The disguised Gregale did not enjoy flying blind any more than Hound did.
The waiting was worse on Cliffjumper than on Hound. At least when Hound had joined the Autobots as a deep cover agent he had known that there was a possibility of divided loyalties. Even thought his first loyalty was to his Winglords (as was only proper) Hound was truly loyal to Optimus Prime as well (which, painfully, was also proper). After so long as a member of the Prime’s handpicked crew, it was impossible to deny the attachment Hound felt towards the Autobots. Poor Cliffjumper had joined simply because Optimus had given him a good feeling. The mini mostly operated on instinct. Luckily for his continued function, Cliffjumper had good instincts. Even with all his training, it was hard for Hound to keep things from the current Prime. He wanted to go up to Optimus and explain everything. Unlike many Cybertronians, the inherently empathic nature of Seekers left them more aware of certain issues that other mechs would remain blissfully unaware of. Hound had seen Sentinel Prime all of once, and then only from a distance during a public troop address right at the beginning of his mission, but he could still remember how wrong the mech had felt. The Matrix had been crying, like a Creator torn from their offspring. It had made Hound sick to his spark, to witness the perversion of the position of Prime. Then came Optimus, and Hound’s mission had at once become far more enjoyable, and far more difficult. Optimus was what a Prime should be. The Matrix fairly sang with joy, bound to the spark of a mech worthy of it. It tugged at Hound’s spark, linked to Seekers who had long since passed on to the Well. Optimus took good care of the Ancestors Wisdom, and every Seeker he encountered could feel it, in their sparks. There would be no issues about Optimus taking over Cybertron once the War ended. Optimus knew his duty, and the Seekers would honour and respect that dedication. It would be telling though, when it came time to explain things, exactly how much the Winglords would inform Optimus Prime off. If they deemed him worthy of learning the full truth… hm. It may still well come to that in the end, in order to get the Autobots to let the Seekers be.
Hound cycled his optics in a blink, having made it to his quarters while lost in thought. Glad to have reached his room without incident, Hound vented a quiet sigh of relief when the door closed and locked behind him.
Pausing after only a few steps Hound carefully looked around his quarters, frowning thoughtfully. Something was off. Small warnings were pinging his processors. Optics narrow, Hound prowled around the room, looking for a clue as to what setting off his alarms. It came in the form of a datapad full of images of Cybertronian landscapes and wildlife from before the war. A faint, familiar scent lingered in the air, stronger on the pad. Hound smiled, optics lighting up in relief.
~Foxglove…~ Hound sat on his berth, the sudden relaxation of tension stealing strength from his legs. Hound’s phase-shifting Imprinted did not often take the risk of bringing Hound’s rare orders all the way into the Autobot base, but it was good to have tangible proof that he had not been forgotten in all of the excitement that was taking place on the other side of the battle line.
Keying in the appropriate code, Hound watched as the image of a pile of turbo-fox cubs was replaced with the elegant, interconnected glyphs of the written Seeker language. As with all manner of Seeker communication, the written form was as much artistic as it was functional. To a non-Seeker it was gibberish. Pretty, but still meaningless babble. A human reading it would mistake it for poetry. Isolating each glyph to be read as an individual as was common practice was useless. Even were it translated into Standard, each glyph had many different meanings. Each glyph was dependent on which glyphs came before and after it to provide the proper context, which in turn yielded the meaning. Unlike the Cant, the written form was not instinctive. It had to be learned. Reading Seeker glyphs required being taught how. There was little risk in keeping the pad. It would not look suspicious for Hound’s character to keep nature files. Mostly though, Hound wanted to hang on to the little reminder of home and his parents. Most of the scenery was from the Highlands of Vos.
Once finished reading, Hound shut off the pad with a relieved sigh.
Hold the course. All is proceeding as planned.
It was good to have orders, Hound mused. Not having a goal was slightly frightening. It gave him too much space to think. About how he was on the most basic level lying to his Prime. Deceiving his lovers. Betraying his friends. He was doing it for what he truly believed to be good reasons. It was really for the best. Yet Hound knew that very few of the Autobots would see it that way. All they would see was a Seeker who had tricked them into trusting them. If things went badly, Hound knew that he might never be able to recover the relationships he had built among the Autobots. Still, the Endgame had begun. The first moves of the final maneuvers had been played. It was too late to turn back now. It was up to Hound and the other Seeker agents in influence to Autobots into the right frame of mind. When Megatron was disposed of, the Seekers were going to play a major role. Hopefully, it would be enough to make the Prime sympathetic to their requests. Hound had a feeling that once it was all laid on the table Optimus would be an easy sell. They had more than enough proof of the Senate’s abuse to satisfy even Red Alert’s finickiness. The rest of the Autobots, however, were not so open-minded. After fighting as enemies for so long it was going to take a lot of doing to change the popular opinion of Seekers. That task was in large part up to Hound and his fellow Seekerkin.
~You don’t ask for much, do you Winglords?~ Hound huffed and chuckled, tucking the pad away. As well, a Seeker agent’s job is never done. At least the work was never boring.
(Word Count: 1454)
=/=
Mwaha. We're getting into the fun stuff now. XP And by fun stuff, I mean the reason why the Seekers know that they're going to get away with all the slag they've pulled during the war. *glees!*
So my eye hurts like a bugger. I don't know if it was my contact drying out or something getting stuck under it or what, but the white is all red and vieny and it hurts to blink. Plus, my ankles are all swollen and sore. Mum says the ankles thing is lymph drainage malfunction, which can be fixed by exerciseing more. I think my mother believes that getting sweaty is the answer to everything. Still, I hopped on the eliptical for a half hour anyway, since that was the plan all along. (Must stop jiggling when I walk! Ninja go!) I have an appointment with my cranial sacral therapist tomorrow, maybe she can so something to help.
Here there be dragons! So... does anyone have one of the four new eggs that they are willing to provide me? Reward is, once again, one post updating the fic of your choice per egg. Also: Legendary Trio's Summon feature giving you the cool new Legendary Egg. Is nifty? Yes. Is frustrating when it fails? HELL. YES.
♠
♣
♠
♣
♠
♣