Fic: Designation, part 1
Hi all! Back from Norway and defrosted I give you some fic :) Have fun reading!
TITLE: Designation, part 1
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis
Sam snarled, quite aware what was happening. Barricade’s presence was sharp and black and cutting into his own mind. He knew the shock-trooper so well, he knew what was going on inside him. He knew that he was close to losing all restraint.
Sam had had a lot of time to think. The Arctic was a very good place to lose himself in work and not get distracted by everyday life. He spent hours in the labs, tinkered with one thing or another, let his mind roam through the well-known and very familiar systems of the base, and he sometimes reached out just to check on the mechs assigned to Arctic.
Currently Prowl and Jolt were here. Jazz had left with the last transport plane for Nevada once more and aside from maybe a visit by Ratchet, no one was expected. The Ghost-2 was currently being overhauled for her next flight. Finch and his team were trying out the new shields designed by Hook to keep the ship invisible to human scanners.
Another project, the Wisp, was being constructed at the Ark. She was a large exploration vessel, twice the size of the Spook, which was already bigger than any of the two Ghosts, and she would take a while to complete. Arctic was helping out when it came to constructing parts, but the main work was done by the Constructions in space. A crew of humans was now permanently at the Ark to assist. Sam knew that Finch and Laura were scheduled to fly to the Ark by next weekend, leaving him alone at Arctic.
Not that he really cared. He needed some alone time. It was one reason why Bumblebee wasn’t here. He had to work a few things out and he didn’t need a worried mech in his head.
Someone who was at the base, who hadn’t left when Jazz had, was Barricade. Sam didn’t mind at all. Barricade kept back, simply watched, and wouldn’t interfere unless called or unless he decided things had gone the way they had for long enough. So far he was a shadow, mostly outside, or sitting in the main hangar. No one approached him; no one actually paid him much attention. People here had gotten used to the former Decepticon.
Currently Sam sat in one of the observation lounges and gazed into the foggy morning. It was cold outside, but winter was still a few weeks away. Right now fog was turning visibility to almost nil.
But his mind wasn’t running on nil; it was running on high.
He was a Prime.
He was an equal to Optimus.
But he wasn’t! He wasn’t!
He was Sam Witwicky. Engineer. Human. Okay, technopath. Screwed-over-by-the-Allspark. Freak.
But not a Prime!
Scrubbing a hand over his face he shook his head.
He and Optimus shared something. They had something in common. A heritage. The Allspark had changed him, his genes, and now… now he was a Prime. Rodimus, too. And Will. Not to mention Tony, who no one had mentioned that particular new development to, it seemed.
“Deep thoughts, I see.”
Sam turned and smiled up at Jolt. “Not too deep. Just reflections.”
The silver and blue mech walked to him, joining Sam in his contemplation of the fog outside.
“The landscape is good for that. It’s peaceful,” Jolt said.
“Yeah. Kinda.”
It got him a brief smile. “We didn’t have landscapes like this on Cybertron. Your planet has a certain beauty, a wildness, you wouldn’t find on my home.”
“Probably.”
Jolt’s optics briefly darkened. “As much as it pains me sometimes, I believe that I’ll never see my home again, so I have adopted your world. I like being here. It’s different enough to forget what happened sometimes.”
Sam shot him a curious look.
“I’ll sit here and watch the clouds or the snow, or I’ll drive outside and watch the animals. I can let my thoughts drift.”
The technopath nodded.
“And sometimes there’s a revelation.”
“Revelation?”
Jolt smiled. “Back on Cybertron I wasn’t a high-ranking officer or someone otherwise important or well-known. I was a thinker. I liked exploring. I liked to read through the archives and discover the old anew. When I had too much knowledge in my systems I just let things… run. I sat there, watching nothing in particular, letting thoughts run. Like you're doing now. Sometimes I had a revelation about a problem. Sometimes it just cleared my processor.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s a solution to what I’m thinking about. It’s there. It happened.” Sam sighed. “I’m apparently a Prime.”
Jolt had settled next to him, looking at his human friend. “Not apparently, Sam. You are. You might not be Cybertronian by birth, but your heritage isn’t any less potent, any less strong. What it means exactly you’ll have to find out.”
“Wait for the revelation?”
Jolt chuckled. “Yes.”
“And if there is none?”
“You at least let thoughts run their course. Bottling everything up inside is painful, Sam. Letting thoughts run in circles, unable to process matters because you crowd your systems with too much input, is harmful. You’ll shut down one day.”
Sam nodded. “It’s why I came here. To get matters into perspective, be alone, have no one in my head.”
Jolt regarded him curiously. “Am I interrupting?”
He chuckled. “No. I can block you guys just fine.”
And with the base emptying slowly of people as the holidays approached, Sam would probably be almost on his own by the end of the week.
“Prowl and I will be up at the Ark by tomorrow,” Jolt told him as if reading his thoughts. “Finch and his team will accompany us. Apparently, the Constructicons have pushed the schedule ahead a little more. They worked really fast.”
“Okay.” Sam shrugged. He didn’t mind a few days with barely anyone around.
It had been the perfect time for Sam to retreat to the mostly empty base for some peace and solitude. It was also a time he could freely work on his skills. Technopathy wasn’t something you mastered, like a language. You had to train; Sam had to flex his mind and do something.
So he did.
Jolt rose. “I plan to drive a last round outside. Want to come?”
He shrugged again. Why not?
Sam got to his feet and went to grab his weather gear, then joined Jolt in the main hangar. A few hours in the wilderness outside actually sounded rather nice.
* * *
Sometimes weather forecasts came true. Sometimes the truth was even worse than the predictions could have made it.
Just before Christmas, Arctic base had emptied of the last personnel that had been released home for the holidays, to return after New Year’s.
The problems began after the base had been emptied, except for the core personnel. It was the weather, which had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Fog was coming in so thick that no more planes could land. The last one out had been the day before the sudden weather change, and the last one in had never meant to be here for more than a lay-over. The transport had been scheduled to pick up some stuff, then continue to Australia.
As it was, it hadn’t. The crew was forced to stay at Arctic.
Aboard the plane had been Blades. The former Protectobot had been on his way back to Australia after visiting Nevada, and now not even his aerial form would brave the weather outside. No one was crazy enough to fly in this storm. The snow, ice and hail made conditions highly dangerous, not to mention the gusts of wind and the blizzard heading their way.
That’s when trouble had really started to brew.
Blades hated Decepticons. He hated them with a vengeance. Even Ironhide was more reasonable than the Protectobot.
With snow piling up outside, temperatures lower than all winter, and more snow storms on the way, Arctic was cut off from civilization and from transportation. There was enough food for the few humans still present and with the arc generators running everything, heat and electricity wouldn’t go out either.
But there was not enough room for Blades and Barricade to really avoid each other - aside from going outside and no one would dare that at the moment.
While Barricade remained passive, almost docile, Blades used every moment to taunt the other mech; to fling insults, to try and get a reaction. So far flares of red optics, flexed talons and low growls had been all Barricade had allowed himself.
But things were getting worse.
And blows would be not far now.
Sam felt like hitting his head on the cupboard door repeatedly as voices floated over to him. His head ached and he was close to throwing a hissy fit.
Well, maybe he should.
He was at the end of his rope.
A spike of emotions hit him, going through his leaky shields, and he growled. His shields, which had been up for the past three days and nights. Outside the base the storm of the century was howling over the bare land, and everything was keeping a low profile.
Not so Blades.
Even technopathically speaking he was right in the middle of everything. Sam perceived the mechs differently when he opened his mind. Jolt, for example, was an even, very grounded presence that could serve as an anchor in an emergency situation, should no one else be around. He was young, but he wasn’t volatile, erratic or shifting constantly. Sam found himself at ease in the mech’s presence.
Blades was… he had a sharp, metallic tang to himself. He was… a blade. He was all cutting edges and spikes and pain. Sam had mostly kept his distance to him, glad he was at Australia. Even Sideswipe, who had experienced so much pain and had possibly lost his twin, was less painful than the Protectobot. Blades wanted the hurt; Blades wanted the pain. He was looking to keep his hatred alive with every molecule of his being.
Sam had gone as far as asking Ratchet about the Protectobot and Ratchet had supplied him with a file that gave him a little insight.
“Before he joined the Protectobots, Blades was known as a dirty, underhanded street brawler,” the medic had told him. “He got into whatever fight there was. He usually started it, too. Medics saw him a lot. Then Hot Spot saw him and somehow got him to join the Protectobot forces. I don’t know what he saw in him, but it had to be something. It worked, too, but Blades was always looking for trouble. He did his job and he was very good at his work, but off duty he hadn’t changed.”
Then the war had happened. Blades had been the one to come after the fights, saving survivors. It had grated on him. He had wanted to be there first, gut a Decepticon from antenna to tailpipe.
“So he looked for fights again,” Ratchet had continued. “He headed into areas with known Decepticon presence and tore apart those who got in his way. You think shock-troopers were hard-assed fighters? Blades was, too. I think if it hadn’t been for Hot Spot bringing him into the Protectobots, he might have ended up something a lot worse. Blades did his job and did it darn well, but if there was a way to get his hands dirty in the process, you could bet your processor he'd find it.”
And so he was going at Barricade every moment he could catch the Decepticon and Sam knew that after two days of non-stop aggression coming from the Protectobot, something was going to give.
It gave an hour later and the technopath gave a cry of anger and frustration. He pushed back the chair and stalked out of the room.
Someone rushed past him, looking alarmed.
Sam snarled, quite aware what was happening. Barricade’s presence was sharp and black and cutting into his own mind. He knew the shock-trooper so well, he knew what was going on inside him. He knew that he was close to losing all restraint and just giving Blades what he wanted.
Walking into the main hangar, aware of others close by, he took in the scene in front of him. Blades was approaching Barricade, who had taken a battle-ready stand. He had yet to bring out a weapon, but it wasn’t much longer before he responded. His instincts were to attack and take care of the Autobot riling him up. Reason was currently keeping him under control.
tbc...
TITLE: Designation, part 1
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis
Sam snarled, quite aware what was happening. Barricade’s presence was sharp and black and cutting into his own mind. He knew the shock-trooper so well, he knew what was going on inside him. He knew that he was close to losing all restraint.
Sam had had a lot of time to think. The Arctic was a very good place to lose himself in work and not get distracted by everyday life. He spent hours in the labs, tinkered with one thing or another, let his mind roam through the well-known and very familiar systems of the base, and he sometimes reached out just to check on the mechs assigned to Arctic.
Currently Prowl and Jolt were here. Jazz had left with the last transport plane for Nevada once more and aside from maybe a visit by Ratchet, no one was expected. The Ghost-2 was currently being overhauled for her next flight. Finch and his team were trying out the new shields designed by Hook to keep the ship invisible to human scanners.
Another project, the Wisp, was being constructed at the Ark. She was a large exploration vessel, twice the size of the Spook, which was already bigger than any of the two Ghosts, and she would take a while to complete. Arctic was helping out when it came to constructing parts, but the main work was done by the Constructions in space. A crew of humans was now permanently at the Ark to assist. Sam knew that Finch and Laura were scheduled to fly to the Ark by next weekend, leaving him alone at Arctic.
Not that he really cared. He needed some alone time. It was one reason why Bumblebee wasn’t here. He had to work a few things out and he didn’t need a worried mech in his head.
Someone who was at the base, who hadn’t left when Jazz had, was Barricade. Sam didn’t mind at all. Barricade kept back, simply watched, and wouldn’t interfere unless called or unless he decided things had gone the way they had for long enough. So far he was a shadow, mostly outside, or sitting in the main hangar. No one approached him; no one actually paid him much attention. People here had gotten used to the former Decepticon.
Currently Sam sat in one of the observation lounges and gazed into the foggy morning. It was cold outside, but winter was still a few weeks away. Right now fog was turning visibility to almost nil.
But his mind wasn’t running on nil; it was running on high.
He was a Prime.
He was an equal to Optimus.
But he wasn’t! He wasn’t!
He was Sam Witwicky. Engineer. Human. Okay, technopath. Screwed-over-by-the-Allspark. Freak.
But not a Prime!
Scrubbing a hand over his face he shook his head.
He and Optimus shared something. They had something in common. A heritage. The Allspark had changed him, his genes, and now… now he was a Prime. Rodimus, too. And Will. Not to mention Tony, who no one had mentioned that particular new development to, it seemed.
“Deep thoughts, I see.”
Sam turned and smiled up at Jolt. “Not too deep. Just reflections.”
The silver and blue mech walked to him, joining Sam in his contemplation of the fog outside.
“The landscape is good for that. It’s peaceful,” Jolt said.
“Yeah. Kinda.”
It got him a brief smile. “We didn’t have landscapes like this on Cybertron. Your planet has a certain beauty, a wildness, you wouldn’t find on my home.”
“Probably.”
Jolt’s optics briefly darkened. “As much as it pains me sometimes, I believe that I’ll never see my home again, so I have adopted your world. I like being here. It’s different enough to forget what happened sometimes.”
Sam shot him a curious look.
“I’ll sit here and watch the clouds or the snow, or I’ll drive outside and watch the animals. I can let my thoughts drift.”
The technopath nodded.
“And sometimes there’s a revelation.”
“Revelation?”
Jolt smiled. “Back on Cybertron I wasn’t a high-ranking officer or someone otherwise important or well-known. I was a thinker. I liked exploring. I liked to read through the archives and discover the old anew. When I had too much knowledge in my systems I just let things… run. I sat there, watching nothing in particular, letting thoughts run. Like you're doing now. Sometimes I had a revelation about a problem. Sometimes it just cleared my processor.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s a solution to what I’m thinking about. It’s there. It happened.” Sam sighed. “I’m apparently a Prime.”
Jolt had settled next to him, looking at his human friend. “Not apparently, Sam. You are. You might not be Cybertronian by birth, but your heritage isn’t any less potent, any less strong. What it means exactly you’ll have to find out.”
“Wait for the revelation?”
Jolt chuckled. “Yes.”
“And if there is none?”
“You at least let thoughts run their course. Bottling everything up inside is painful, Sam. Letting thoughts run in circles, unable to process matters because you crowd your systems with too much input, is harmful. You’ll shut down one day.”
Sam nodded. “It’s why I came here. To get matters into perspective, be alone, have no one in my head.”
Jolt regarded him curiously. “Am I interrupting?”
He chuckled. “No. I can block you guys just fine.”
And with the base emptying slowly of people as the holidays approached, Sam would probably be almost on his own by the end of the week.
“Prowl and I will be up at the Ark by tomorrow,” Jolt told him as if reading his thoughts. “Finch and his team will accompany us. Apparently, the Constructicons have pushed the schedule ahead a little more. They worked really fast.”
“Okay.” Sam shrugged. He didn’t mind a few days with barely anyone around.
It had been the perfect time for Sam to retreat to the mostly empty base for some peace and solitude. It was also a time he could freely work on his skills. Technopathy wasn’t something you mastered, like a language. You had to train; Sam had to flex his mind and do something.
So he did.
Jolt rose. “I plan to drive a last round outside. Want to come?”
He shrugged again. Why not?
Sam got to his feet and went to grab his weather gear, then joined Jolt in the main hangar. A few hours in the wilderness outside actually sounded rather nice.
* * *
Sometimes weather forecasts came true. Sometimes the truth was even worse than the predictions could have made it.
Just before Christmas, Arctic base had emptied of the last personnel that had been released home for the holidays, to return after New Year’s.
The problems began after the base had been emptied, except for the core personnel. It was the weather, which had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Fog was coming in so thick that no more planes could land. The last one out had been the day before the sudden weather change, and the last one in had never meant to be here for more than a lay-over. The transport had been scheduled to pick up some stuff, then continue to Australia.
As it was, it hadn’t. The crew was forced to stay at Arctic.
Aboard the plane had been Blades. The former Protectobot had been on his way back to Australia after visiting Nevada, and now not even his aerial form would brave the weather outside. No one was crazy enough to fly in this storm. The snow, ice and hail made conditions highly dangerous, not to mention the gusts of wind and the blizzard heading their way.
That’s when trouble had really started to brew.
Blades hated Decepticons. He hated them with a vengeance. Even Ironhide was more reasonable than the Protectobot.
With snow piling up outside, temperatures lower than all winter, and more snow storms on the way, Arctic was cut off from civilization and from transportation. There was enough food for the few humans still present and with the arc generators running everything, heat and electricity wouldn’t go out either.
But there was not enough room for Blades and Barricade to really avoid each other - aside from going outside and no one would dare that at the moment.
While Barricade remained passive, almost docile, Blades used every moment to taunt the other mech; to fling insults, to try and get a reaction. So far flares of red optics, flexed talons and low growls had been all Barricade had allowed himself.
But things were getting worse.
And blows would be not far now.
Sam felt like hitting his head on the cupboard door repeatedly as voices floated over to him. His head ached and he was close to throwing a hissy fit.
Well, maybe he should.
He was at the end of his rope.
A spike of emotions hit him, going through his leaky shields, and he growled. His shields, which had been up for the past three days and nights. Outside the base the storm of the century was howling over the bare land, and everything was keeping a low profile.
Not so Blades.
Even technopathically speaking he was right in the middle of everything. Sam perceived the mechs differently when he opened his mind. Jolt, for example, was an even, very grounded presence that could serve as an anchor in an emergency situation, should no one else be around. He was young, but he wasn’t volatile, erratic or shifting constantly. Sam found himself at ease in the mech’s presence.
Blades was… he had a sharp, metallic tang to himself. He was… a blade. He was all cutting edges and spikes and pain. Sam had mostly kept his distance to him, glad he was at Australia. Even Sideswipe, who had experienced so much pain and had possibly lost his twin, was less painful than the Protectobot. Blades wanted the hurt; Blades wanted the pain. He was looking to keep his hatred alive with every molecule of his being.
Sam had gone as far as asking Ratchet about the Protectobot and Ratchet had supplied him with a file that gave him a little insight.
“Before he joined the Protectobots, Blades was known as a dirty, underhanded street brawler,” the medic had told him. “He got into whatever fight there was. He usually started it, too. Medics saw him a lot. Then Hot Spot saw him and somehow got him to join the Protectobot forces. I don’t know what he saw in him, but it had to be something. It worked, too, but Blades was always looking for trouble. He did his job and he was very good at his work, but off duty he hadn’t changed.”
Then the war had happened. Blades had been the one to come after the fights, saving survivors. It had grated on him. He had wanted to be there first, gut a Decepticon from antenna to tailpipe.
“So he looked for fights again,” Ratchet had continued. “He headed into areas with known Decepticon presence and tore apart those who got in his way. You think shock-troopers were hard-assed fighters? Blades was, too. I think if it hadn’t been for Hot Spot bringing him into the Protectobots, he might have ended up something a lot worse. Blades did his job and did it darn well, but if there was a way to get his hands dirty in the process, you could bet your processor he'd find it.”
And so he was going at Barricade every moment he could catch the Decepticon and Sam knew that after two days of non-stop aggression coming from the Protectobot, something was going to give.
It gave an hour later and the technopath gave a cry of anger and frustration. He pushed back the chair and stalked out of the room.
Someone rushed past him, looking alarmed.
Sam snarled, quite aware what was happening. Barricade’s presence was sharp and black and cutting into his own mind. He knew the shock-trooper so well, he knew what was going on inside him. He knew that he was close to losing all restraint and just giving Blades what he wanted.
Walking into the main hangar, aware of others close by, he took in the scene in front of him. Blades was approaching Barricade, who had taken a battle-ready stand. He had yet to bring out a weapon, but it wasn’t much longer before he responded. His instincts were to attack and take care of the Autobot riling him up. Reason was currently keeping him under control.
tbc...