HUNTER [.ii]
Title: HUNTER
Fandom: Transformers
Rated: NC-17
Wordcount: 5846
Pairing: -
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Reference to past torture. Angst. Devcon in all his glitchy glory.
Disclaimier: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: HUNTER is set in G1 contuinity, exploring Universe 03's take upon "Devcon the Bounty Hunter." It's also my first NaNoWriMo story, which rounded 162+ pages. The story follows Devcon from the end of issue Enter the Wreckers - Betrayal and through The Wreckers - Disclosure to meet up with canon at the start of Wreckers Finale 1. [ Prologue]. [ i]
DEVCON
.II
Planet Who-the-slag-cares was slightly better than the other two he’d left behind. For starters, it wasn’t making him twitch every fraggin’ klikk.
Devcon moved through a bazaar, snapping bits of conversations up, enhancing his audios carefully. He’d been searching for a specific merchant for a couple of Solars already, but he hadn’t been lucky. Said mech had never been an easy glitch to find either. He was smart, this one, and Devcon had been in the wrong side of his business last time they’ve met. Perhaps he’d even designed a little gadget to tell him the hunter was on his tail.
He laughed softly and rolled his shoulders. Well, it wasn’t an impossible situation, was it? He had quite a few strange inner bits and if any mech was intelligent enough to figure out how to track him, it would be Ram. A few of his inventions had been used against the hunter in the past. Well, he’d gotten away in one bit. More or less.
Besides, Ram was a good merchant, if not a better engeneer. He had a certain kind of… well, clientelle. He would know what was going on, even if he had nothing to do with it. Ram was a fountain of data… if he felt like sharing.
Nothing yet. The merchant would be hiding, but Devcon had all time in the world to relax. Security in this planet was good and the mechs keeping the order? Damn visible, quite strong. They hadn’t given him any trouble since he actually wore the badge. He grinned; yeah, that was one of the good things with it, gave him a free ride. One of them even gave him a nod. Devcon smiled back. Poor fraggers. They expected nothing of the sort he was gonna do.
Good.
Keeping the upper hand would come in handy. Besides, if Ram had gotten the word through the merc network, then he was already aware of Devcon’s whereabouts. All the hunter needed to do was wait. Sooner or later, Ram would grow curious.
Devcon laughed under his breath and continued his easy pace. He was currently in a bazaar, anyway. If Ram wanted to ask what the frag he was doing up and walking… Well, the glitch would have to approach him. Curiousity killed the hunter, perhaps, but it certainly held a certain kind of… kick for a mech like Ram. And good ol’ Ram? Always paying attention to what was bad for his health.
Devcon smirked and stopped by a table filled with bits of mechs. Well… time to figure out what he was dealing with. He started looking for the cabling, the kind of wires and finally, if any of these had a certain kind of logo.
”Looking for anything in particular?”
Devcon lifted his gaze and set it on a stout femme, her optics covered with lences. She peered curiously at him, trying to recognize his components, surely. It was slightly unsettling, but it was her chocen trade, Devcon knew this. And, it also meant that these spareparts had been another mech’s precious bits. It made him twitch repeatedly.
”Old model, very nicely molded. Costume made, pre-Great War. Sneaky too. Shows no transformation seams that will give the alt-model away. Very nice work, indeed… No visual elements. No signs of being a grounder. Hm.”
Devcon was almost hypnotised by the dull vocals as they rambled up several other things. He made a face as she moved away and walked around him. She was big. Delictate fingers, big hands. Long arms. He shot a qick look at her peds and realised that she could extend them, which she did. Oh, joy…
”You are an interesting mech,” she kept on as she leaned closer to his helm. Devcon fought the instict to move away, her scrutinizing gaze making his head-cannon train itself onto her. She ignored it, even as it raised itself in alarm. She poked it. Devcon moved away, almost startled. No, he didn’t enjoy that at all. For some reason he couldn’t start to fathom he felt threatened. The femme shook her helm.
”Sensitive: operative 100707; flyer model. Tiles enhanced for moving slightly under the speed of light. Wings… hidden. Yes, very sneaky indeed.”
”You stop that!” Devcon surely hadn’t meant to sound like that, but she was intimidating him. How did she do that? By touch? The Pit she would get another go! He pushed the sparepart onto the table and backed from her, slowly, intakes coming fast and shallow.
”Nothing here will be adequate, I’m afraid,” she said, taking the lences away. She held his optics, a small, businesslike smile in her face. ”Don’t worry, I won’t give anything away. It would be bad for business. But, you didn’t come here for spareparts. Your were looking for something special? A frabicant, a molder?”
The hunter stopped in midtrack. He tilted his helm, processing quickly. Perhaps he didn’t need Ram… this one seemed more skilled than the babbly mech. It was unsettling how good she was, but it would still be an asset. He swallowed and nodded.
”I’m tracking a mech who left me a little gift. I have a bit left of the drone.”
The femme nodded and made a hissing sound, sinking down to her normal height, which still was his size. She cocked her helm and out from a small door came another mech, waving them off.
”My co-worker will see to business. Would you follow me? I might need my work bech and it’s in the building.”
When Devcon didn’t move, she rolled her optics.
”…you want me to follow you into a dark, big building. You. A sparepart-merchant,” Devcon deadpanned. ”Are you insane? I know how your trade make creds, femme.”
”Scared I’ll take you apart and sell you to the highest bidding?”
Devcon growled and backed away again. Frag no, he’d been through far worse, but he had no intention of putting himself in that kind of danger again. The femme looked annoyed and put her hands on her hips, cutting an imposing picture. If she thought it would calm him down, she was walking down the wrong lane. The hunter shook his helm; frag this. It was better playing hide-and-see with Ram.
”If I go and get my gear and follow you to a nice, non-cluttered and slightly more dangerous place, say… a pub? Will you let me see what drone?”
What to do, what to do… It wasn’t entirely a bad idea. Devcon nodded and saw her move quickly. She wasn’t awkward, just strangely looking. Most sparepart merchents did look a bit… handmade. They gave themselves usefull upgrades that did them well during working hours, but scared the living crap out of mechs outside business partners. Take those lences - they made her look like some kind of a bug.
Devcon shuddered; he’d gotten enough of strange looking mechs lately.
The femme came back not a moment later, waving a big hand towards her co-worker and walking beside Devcon with an easy grin. She shot him curious looks now and then, but wisely kept her hands to herself. Devcon wondered how intrigued she was. He knew that most sparepart merchants had a bad reputation and that wasn’t mechs being overly worried. They were scary, scanning their surroundings constantly. As if waiting for mechs to be killed and then, pick their valuables and sell them…
”You know you are scowling at me, do you?”
Devcon was startled out of his dark musings and shutterblinked, refreshing his optics. He shrugged and walked on. The femme snorted.
”I know what you are thinking, mech. You think I’m gonna set a couple of big, mean mechs on your case, don’t ya?”
”Damn right. Do you blame me?”
”Hardly, since that is the normal outcome in most cases. You however, I wouldn’t be able to sell if I so searched for costumers all over the quadrant.”
He grunted and steered his steps towards a pub he’d visited quite a while ago. They had some decent booze and it was a clean, nice little hideaway. The owner also had the good taste of keeping order, so it was overall the kind of place Devcon would return to. He nodded at the bar and moved to the side, offering the femme a courteous, little smile. She returned the smile with a cynic grin and walked in before him. She knew what he was up to, of course. If she had people in there, they would jump her first.
Nothing of the sort happened and Devcon soon joined her at a large table. A servitor trudged towards them, offering them each a menu and while Devcon subspaced the leg, the femme ordered two cubes of mid-grade. She turned to Devcon and made a surprised little sound.
”Well, look at this…. Nice handywork. Melted.” She gave Devcon a long, flat stare. ”You blew it up? This was some good work!”
”Correction, he blew himself up. I refused taking a job for him and he went all glitchy. When I refused and added a certain name to it, he jumped up and screetched, then promptly blew half the pub into oblivion.”
The femme stared at Devcon and liftend the leg, sniffing. Her fingers changed form and quite a few gadgets were revealed. Devcon moved slightly away, looking apalled while thin threads moved inside the leg. She kept muttering under her breath and when she opened the leg, Devcon watched with a horrified look upon his faceplates. A small cough brought him out of the macabre situation. The servitor held the cubes towards them, asking no questions, then leaving at once. Devcon grunted. Perhaps it wasn’t an unusual view for them? It was for him, however.
The mid-grade was good and it soothed his sensors. The examination went on for quite a while, only punctuated by small snarls when something didn’t move or when the femme recorded something. Devcon wasn’t delicate, for frag’s sake, but this slag left him feeling queezy. He wondered how many mechs had been scanned for goods and taken out in a dark alleyway. Smelt, she’d even told him so…!
”Still wondering wether I’ll do this to you?”
”Try it, ” he snarled, ”and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
”Flyers,” she said softly. ”Cocky sons of glitches, all of you. Have reason to be, as well. But, you…? A masterpiece. I’d give my left leg to get a look inside of you, mech. I wonder what grand work was done to your frame. It looks so very shiny, so very new, yet I haven’t seen this kind of detailed working since before the Golden Age. Old, yet so very, very new. As I said; would give a limb to get to pick you apart.”
She raised her helm, lences making her look even stranger. She smiled, enjoying how he jerked away from her outstretched finger, and went on with work. Devcon growled a few insults but she ignored him, grabbed the cube and downed it. The servitor returned within a few klikks with a new cube. Devcon courteously waved him away. This wasn’t the right place, situaion or company to get himself unsteady. Perhaps he’d gotten himself into trouble. For some reason she scared him more than the notion of Cyclonus getting his paws on his spark. Again.
Devcon was going through some old files when the femme put the leg away. He watched her over the rim of his cube, noting a third empty cube by her side. She smirked and stretched her back, clicking softly.
”Done?”
She snorted and put various little tools away, gathering all smaller bits into boxes, storing them and subspacing them. Her grin widened. ”Mind if I keep them, as payment?”
Expensive parts, then. Devcon shrugged, didn’t matter to him. If she’d found anything exciting in there, good for her. He didn’t need the bits to get hold on the info and the less time he spended grounded, the faster he would be able to find Cyclonus.
”Quite an enemy you got there, mech. These parts? Fine, good ones. Upper class-mech stuff. You seldom find these components in drones. You said he blew himself up?”
Devcon nodded, turning the cube between his fingers.
”He looked a bit too… intense. He followed me for a bit, then almost ran me over. Sleek, no visible tires, yet he didn’t struck me as a flyer. Perhaps he was one, dunno. He could distort his own signal. Standard merch-gagdets, perhaps, but he didn’t look like one.”
He frowned.
”What happened before he blew himself up?”
”His vocals messed up, became stacky. Overly bright optics, too. As soon as I uttered a certain designation he almost folded himself in and I barely escaped the blast.”
The femme nodded, then scratched her chin, processing. Silence settled. Devcon regarded her with a guarded look upon his face. She knew things about him he’d rather kept a secret, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t get to look inside of him, no mech did. Last mech that had gotten the chance had been far more interested in his spark than his inner workings and that was it.
No more looking inside of him. No more poking the hunter. He was done with that kind of slag. All he wanted was to get a nice shot to inmobilise Cyclonus and then-
”He was reprogrammed, I think,” the femme commented after a while. ”You said he was a drone, but you are wrong. The device distorting his spark-signal, or whatever signal you are talking about must have been fiddled with. I’ve seen things like these before. Mechs turned into weapons, triggered by a word or a command. Sometimes both. They are expensive to come by, as well. As for how aware he was of his… problem, who knows? Even if he fought back, it must have been futile, his logic chip being rewritten by the compulsion of following orders. I dont’t think he had a chance to stop it, and when you triggered him, his processor was blasted and so was he. And said pub. Sad story, really.”
Devcon made a face. ”He didn’t look like a worker the first time I saw him, yet he had a chart attached to his back. Think he was forced…?”
The femme waved the servitor and ordered a few goodies before she answered him.
”He was a fine mech, made with the parts I’ve seen around here. Upper class-mech. Sleek form not made for work, merely for beauty. Expensive frame. I would guess they set him onto your case hoping to keep you occupied with him while they gathered some info on you. Normal routine for some merch-guilds, I think.”
”My guess as well,” Devcon admitted softly. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his optics. ”Dead end?”
”I would hardly call this a ”dead end”, mech. Those who reprogammed him added components and nanobots in his fuel lines. I got myself a little sample and my partner is processing the results this very moment. I should have them for you after down-shift.”
That was… helpful. Devcon shutterblinked, surprised that she would want to give him anything for free. If it was for free, of course. Who knew how much she would sell those bits for? A small fortune, if his calculations where anything to go by. He nodded, pleased with the outcome of the events.
”So… What’s your name, stranger?”
Devcon made a face. ”Gonna blow yourself up if I tell you? It would be pretty annoying, to be honest.”
”Ah. You think it was the combination of your designation and something else that turned him into a bomb? Quite possible, but look at me. Do I look like something anymech would be able to reprogram?”
He snorted and stretched his long legs out. ”Femme, I’ve seen the strongest of mechs be reprogrammed. You wouldn’t say that if you’d been in my chassis.”
The silence that followed was broken by the arrival of the servitor. He had a plate with goodies and Devcon smiled, his optics holding no mirth. Goodies. So… normal. The pink cubes seemed so out of place all the sudden. He shook his helm. This place behaved as if there wasn’t war going on. As if Cybertron wasn’t held captive by the dragon. Well, unless the Prime had done something about that. By now, problably. No that it mattered. Even if the dragon was done with, there was still other things that needed some solving.
Cyclonus hadn’t stolen the artifact for Megatron. No… not at all. He’d always been the kind of mech to do another’s dirty work. So, who was the mech pulling the threads? That was quite a hunt, wasn’t it?
”Most mechs would have been begging for one of these,” the merchant said all the sudden. ”How curious that you don’t even twitch at the smell. Can it be that you simply don’t need them? Do you even need energon to the same extend as a normal mech?”
Devcon snorted. ”Still trying to figure me out? Give it a rest, merchant. You won’t get any parts to sell from my frame. I’m not even compatible with newer frames.”
”But, you must have been extremely expensive, specially back then! Who would have the kind of creds to get a newspark such a grand frame? And, so old! Yet so new… That bit has me curious, mech.”
”I’ll have one then,” Devcon said with a amiable smile. ”Haven’t had one since… Well, frag me. I don’t even remember the last goodie I had.”
The femme looked almost confused with this change of mood, but she held the platter towards him with no further complaints. She watched him as he picked a nice little treat with silvery, strong fingers. He regarded her with a teasing grin and bit into the goodie, engines purring softly, a deep throbbing too low for most mechs to hear, but she heard and squirmed, too. His hunter programming suddenly activated, Devcon’s optics glowed darker, a mean streak just under the surface. No need to tell her, though, that she had become interesting…
”Those are some strong engines you have there, mech.”
He revved them just for the fun of it and watched her fingers dig into the table. Some mechs and femme had that reaction towards the deep vibrations he emitted. It was always nice to get that reaction, but he wasn’t interested in her that way and she wasn’t into his kind of mech either. The reaction was an involutanry one. He smirked and pushed the platter towards her, watching her scowl at him.
”So, you’ll keep the parts and give me the name I need?”
”I’ll have them for you if you answer me how the frag your model is so old, yet shiny new. I scanned you and everything seems newly made, yet not upgraded. How did you manage to get the new parts? Don’t try to lie to me. I’ve been into my trade long enough to recognize something impossible when I see it.”
”Huh… all right. Ever heard of a mech called Apelinq?”
She frowned, then widened her optics. Devcon nodded slowly; so she’d heard of him? Good. Perhaps it would put a stop to all her annoying questions. He nibbled the goodie while she gathered her wits. Then she nodded slowly, as if understanding something .
”Well, that settles it, then. You’ll get the info, names and facts as soon as I get them. Now you can tell me a sweet-spark and tell who you were going to meet here. My informants tell me you’ve been here for several Solar cycles, just walking around, looking for somebot.”
Devcon nodded. A trade as good as any. ”Small mech, twitchy-like. Works with mercs most of the time, even though he sometimes helps bounty hunters. If they have something he’ll want. Designation’s Ram, but I’m sure it’s not his real name.
The femme cocked her helm, looking almost upset. ”Ram? That little inventor-glitch? Well, he’s gone… Some brutes showed up not long ago, demanding to find him. They messed up half the bazaar, shooting and crushing helms. Security tried to stop them but failed. It was quite the assault and snatcher sold him out. Haven’t seen him since then.”
That… was a bad thing. Devcon frowned, cycling an intake slowly. He hadn’t planned for that bit, had he? The femme tapped his hand, drawing his attention back to her.
”You know Ram? Are you a friend of his?”
”No… Not, friends, but we’ve known each other for such a long time that… Frag. We’ve been on opposite sides more than once, merchant. Most of the time it’s me trying to stop him from selling weapons that will cripple me to my p-… Anyway. I was gonna buy some intel from him and show him the leg. You saved me for some more looking around, really.”
The femme was about to say something else when she suddenly froze, if so for a nano-klikk. She shook her helm and uttered a small, almost pained snarl, then gave Devcon an intense look.
”How about I go and kick my partner’s aft into gear? I think you might like to get your facts and leave this place. I don’t think it’s healthy for you.”
”…really? What makes you say that?”
The femme leaned forward and grabbed Devcon’s hand, looking perfectly happy, as if they were old friends or lovers. Devcon hissed, on his way to pull back, but her grip was strong enough to keep him pinned.
”Hey! You crush my wrists and I’ll break-”
”Did you know you are being followed?”
That calmed him down. ”Where?”
”Over there, in broad light.”
Devcon put his own hand over the merchant’s and nodded, looking all flirty and in a far better mood than he felt. He laughed as if her whisper had been a joke and generally turned around, as if happy.
Followed. Tagged. Game. He felt his hackles rise; those were mercs, not hunters. For a bounty hunter, being involved with mercs only meant trouble, since mercs banded up and hunters always kept to themselves. He kept laughing and grabbed the merchant’s chin, pulling her closer, whispering against her lips, close enough to kiss.
”I might just need that name a bit quicker than expected.”
”They’ll know where to look… fortunately for you, my partner isn’t the mech I left in charge of my shop. And if you move any closer, I’ll take a sample of that.”
Devcon growled and let go of the femme, annoyed and embarrased both. She smirked, touching his badge once, then withdrawing completely.
”I heard of an unusual mech, a blue flyer. A cocky glitch, always in trouble, always showing up when at least expected, bothering Ram… Your designation is Devcon, isn’t it?”
Well, at least she didn’t explode.
”So what? What’s your interest in me?”
”The mechs taking Ram were looking for you as well or for a mech with your discription, actually. I was… baffled, since you are supposed to be dead. Ram was upset.”
Upset? The slaggin’ glitch had more than once almost killed Devcon, knowing his tricks by spark. But, they had been at each other’s necks long enough to be considered more than enemies. Perhaps the mech had gotten fond of him surviving? The hunter shrugged and moved after the femme, following her towards a door behind the bar. The bartender shot them both a slow grin, nodding towards the servitor, who was closing the bar from the inside, locking the doors. Devcon shutterblinked; what the frag…?
The merchant rolled her optics, then hurried through the door.
~
Devcon stared at the femme with round optics.
”Lemme see if I got it right… The little glitch is your partner?!”
”You heard it right the first time, hunter. Now shut up and help me lift these things!”
He growled but did as asked. They were under ground, something that seldom left him happy. He’d been grounded enough for a whole lifetime, but that wasn’t anything he would be telling the femme. Specially since she was Ram’s partner. Fraggin luck, he should shoot her in the back, but being Ram’s partner meant she was hunter-safe.
”Why are we moving downwards?”
”Does the dark bother you?”
Devcon growled and helped her, straining his arms as he lifted a heavy bolt. He was strong, but so was she and she liked the looks he kept giving her. Well, he’d met strong femmes before, but this reeked Ram all the way. He’d modified her… Or even worse, perhaps the master-processor behind Ram’s success was this seemingly nameless femme.
”What’s your designation, anyway?”
”Most call me Bolt,” she answered with a huff. ”Not that it will somehow tell you anything about my bounty hunter-killer weapons. Lay off with the stares, mech. I don’t like you any more than you like me.”
He gave her a foul glare and dropped the bolt, kicking it with pleasure. The femme returned it and let go of her own bolt. She was formiddable, more than he’d first suspected. Scary as hell, too. ”How far off?”
”Give it a Solar or less and we’ll be out of range. They took Ram, but he got away fast enough, using those lovely little weapons he loves to make. It was rather entertaining to see the ships break apart from the inside.”
Devcon winced. ”…right. Much fun in that. So, he’s down hiding?”
”Uhu. The word spread quickly; they were looking for a dead mech and him, after all. No one expects you to be up and about, mech. Well, we have plenty of walking ahead of us. Perhaps you could tell me your tale?”
He grinned, mirth never reaching his optics. ”Long story that one.”
”It’s not like we have anything else to do,” she replied in a crispy tone. ”Come on, hunter. Make my day, will ya? If I’m not allowed to crack you up and take a look at those lovely relics that go as your inner workings, then you can at least repay me for that almost-kiss of yours.”
The hunter spluttered. ”It wasn’t a kiss!”
”Just get on with it, Autobot. What would it cost you?”
Devcon made a face and sighed. It would do him good, he reckoned, to get it all out of his spark.
~
The darkness grew heavier all the sudden and Devcon stopped talking. He lifted a hand and cocked his helm, reaching out with his masked signal. There was something nearby, something above them. A sound…?
”You heard that?”
Bolt’s surprised vocals echoed in the empty hall. Devcon turned, nodding. He frowned all the sudden, rubbing his side.
”Well, you weren’t supposed to.” The femme sighed deeply. ”I would love to dig into you, mech, ’cause that frequensy is locked and coded and basically unbreachable. We made it so, Ram and I. How the frag you heard it… I can only guess.”
Devcon could have told her, but didn’t. He’d already spilled enough to keep her entertained and when her questions had gotten to close to the parts he wouldn’t reveal, he’d told her of his many hunts. She specially like those in which Ram had gotten the upper hand.
”Ram will be delighted to see you, hunter.”
Oh, joy. He sighed, weary and grumpy. This was almost as bad as the constant chatter of the Wreckers. Ah, Primus! Soon he would be longing for Rodimus’s soft vocals. Ugh, that happened and he would gladly give Bolt access to his processor.
The femme ignored him and walked along, her odd form shifting slightly, clicking now and then. She moved fast, as well, almost gliding. Devcon had no trouble keeping up with her, not with his long strides. They kept walking, deeper and deeper, into the planet’s vowels. It was unsettling and Devcon started to feel trapped. It was a bad sensation all over, truly, but he had no choice. It was meeting Ram or getting into a skirmish with mercs. He couldn’t take on them, not the same way he’d reacted in Welder’s place. Back then he’d been reckless… Well, more reckless, then.
Things had changed with that bomb.
If the mercs were hunting him for Cyclonus, then there would be a dozen or more, all so very willing to come after him. There were different bands and guilds, but more than one had wanted him dead over countless years. Life wasn’t always pleasant in the border planets and Devcon had made sure of keeping track on several merc companies. Most of them were guilty in providing a bit o’ help to Decepticons in need. For a fair share of creds, of course.
Any bounty hunter would know this… and Devcon had used the same channels to trap his prey. Now they were possibly ganging up on him and as if it wasn’t bad enough knowing that Cyclonus was out there, now he had to figure out a way of escaping the mercs. They were dangerous, fierce. They would attack relentlessly, force hunters into corners. Tear them to pieces. Much like a pack of mad dogs, of course. Devcon had been at the wrong end of that a few times. His wings had been what saved him back then.
”We’re here.”
Bolt’s vocals cut through his musings, drawing his attention to her. In the dim light, she looked more like a statue, something twisted and proud, something of unknown Cybertronian origin. She smiled and pressed her palm onto the wall, opening a secret door. Devcon snorted ungraciously; of course. Leave it to Ram to make everything a little game. The door she hadn’t opened? It would probably be a trap, a nasty, bounty-hunter-killing trap. A trap you’d only be able to survive if you could guess a riddle. Or something worse.
He made a face.
The good ol’ times had been filled with that kind of scrap. He’d learnt that with Ram, everything was a game. His favourite one had been ”blow the hunter up”, after all. Devcon wasn’t too upset about that, however. It had been a good way of learning how to maneuver in mid-air while shooting down grenades. His scowl became a wry grin. It was a good memory, that one.
”Devcon!”
The hunter looked up and shot of a grin in Ram’s general direction. He chuckled as he moved forward, leaving Bolt behind. Aw, smelt. Who was he lying to? It was good to see the merchang, truly. They met halfway and grabbed each other’s lower arms, greeting.
”I see they failed to keep you locked up.”
The odd looking mech snorted and let go of Devcon’s arm. He was a smaller mech, shorter than Bolt and Devcon both. He made up in limbs, however. His four hands were busy working with something, always making weapons, always delivering his goods. Devcon was greatful for the mech’s curious quirks; he would sell costumized weapons to any mech who could cough up the creds, but he never sold anything to mechs from either fractions. His weapons weren’t found in Autobot camps or in Decepticon claws.
More than anything, he would create a nasty little something for fugitives. ”To give them a fair chance” he would explain himself later on.
Devcon had had many small encounters with easy prey suddenly turned to bestial warriors. He’d also hunted Ram for his own enjoyment. The weapon smith would only answer with his own brand of insanity, almost blowing him up. While not enemies, they weren’t friends either, more like… pals.
”I’ve never was locked up. I let them take me to be able to infiltrate their ships and blow them apart. I got much satisfaction from that.”
He gave Devcon a witty grin and waved to Bolt, walking towards a small table. The room was messy, full with components and things half made. Devcon made sure to keep his optics off the various strange looking things laying around. It did him no good to have Ram show his newest weapon, since he was likely to use it on him. Instead he sat down and rubbed his jawline, wondering how to get out of the planet fast enough. It wasn’t that he disliked Ram, but trust was a bit too much to ask.
”…right. Hey, Bolt said they were looking for me?”
”They were looking for you, yes. I told them you were much dead, that the Marshals had been crushed quite a while ago, but there was this slagger transmitting orders, saying you would be around soon enough.”
He snorted and a hand reached for a cube, another pushing a cube towards Devcon. ”A friend of yours, I take it?”
”…no, not really. I’m hunting a two-faced Decepticon, a mech that goes by the name Cyclonus. Ugly, metal only, none of the organic sort. He put a Wrecker in stasis lock in Archa Nine and took off with some random power-enhancing trinket. I mean to kill him, slowly.”
Ram nodded. He knew Devcon well enough not to be put off by the cold of his vocals and the raw hunger in his optics. Instead, he turned to Bolt and Devcon felt their silent communication as a cold, clammy hand to his thighs. He shuddered and leaned his helm backwards, slouching on the chair.
Frag, he was tired… too many jumps, too much hunting, too little fuel. He didn’t need it yet, but recharge was something else. Slag… Well, a few more jumps, some info digging and a good rest afterwards. Yes, that would do. The clammy hand-like pressure went away and Bolt refreshed her vocals.
”Hunter? Ram and I have decided to give you a, uhm. A very special map. A small upgrade - no, it won’t explode, relax.”
”No more games, hunter.” Ram looked serious for once, perfectly serene. ”I heard your tale and even I feel responsible for our kind and its survival. I can’t give you anything that will enhance the power you already execed, but the chart... Oh, hunter.”
”It will take you every where you want," Bolt explained. "We’ve spent years refining the programming, adding every single scrap of knowledge of the verse and beyond. We were to sell it,” Bolt continued, ”but not anymore. We think you might need it more than we need creds, anyway. You gave me your story, even a little kiss. That’s payment enough.”
”There was no kiss!”
”Call it whatever you wish to,” Ram said with a grin. ”How about it? Will you take our handiwork and add it to your collection of perfectly costumized bits?”
Devcon made a face and sighed, nodded quietly. Ram was a genius, Bolt seemed to have the same processor power. Together, they could probably solve every little annoying problem in the ’verse. He stood up, stretching and walked slowly towards the berthlike stoneslab in the middle of the room. He lay down, keeping Ram’s optics as he aproached the slab.
”This once and never again,” Devcon warned him.
The smaller mech grinned and set to work.
Fandom: Transformers
Rated: NC-17
Wordcount: 5846
Pairing: -
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Reference to past torture. Angst. Devcon in all his glitchy glory.
Disclaimier: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: HUNTER is set in G1 contuinity, exploring Universe 03's take upon "Devcon the Bounty Hunter." It's also my first NaNoWriMo story, which rounded 162+ pages. The story follows Devcon from the end of issue Enter the Wreckers - Betrayal and through The Wreckers - Disclosure to meet up with canon at the start of Wreckers Finale 1. [ Prologue]. [ i]
DEVCON
.II
Planet Who-the-slag-cares was slightly better than the other two he’d left behind. For starters, it wasn’t making him twitch every fraggin’ klikk.
Devcon moved through a bazaar, snapping bits of conversations up, enhancing his audios carefully. He’d been searching for a specific merchant for a couple of Solars already, but he hadn’t been lucky. Said mech had never been an easy glitch to find either. He was smart, this one, and Devcon had been in the wrong side of his business last time they’ve met. Perhaps he’d even designed a little gadget to tell him the hunter was on his tail.
He laughed softly and rolled his shoulders. Well, it wasn’t an impossible situation, was it? He had quite a few strange inner bits and if any mech was intelligent enough to figure out how to track him, it would be Ram. A few of his inventions had been used against the hunter in the past. Well, he’d gotten away in one bit. More or less.
Besides, Ram was a good merchant, if not a better engeneer. He had a certain kind of… well, clientelle. He would know what was going on, even if he had nothing to do with it. Ram was a fountain of data… if he felt like sharing.
Nothing yet. The merchant would be hiding, but Devcon had all time in the world to relax. Security in this planet was good and the mechs keeping the order? Damn visible, quite strong. They hadn’t given him any trouble since he actually wore the badge. He grinned; yeah, that was one of the good things with it, gave him a free ride. One of them even gave him a nod. Devcon smiled back. Poor fraggers. They expected nothing of the sort he was gonna do.
Good.
Keeping the upper hand would come in handy. Besides, if Ram had gotten the word through the merc network, then he was already aware of Devcon’s whereabouts. All the hunter needed to do was wait. Sooner or later, Ram would grow curious.
Devcon laughed under his breath and continued his easy pace. He was currently in a bazaar, anyway. If Ram wanted to ask what the frag he was doing up and walking… Well, the glitch would have to approach him. Curiousity killed the hunter, perhaps, but it certainly held a certain kind of… kick for a mech like Ram. And good ol’ Ram? Always paying attention to what was bad for his health.
Devcon smirked and stopped by a table filled with bits of mechs. Well… time to figure out what he was dealing with. He started looking for the cabling, the kind of wires and finally, if any of these had a certain kind of logo.
”Looking for anything in particular?”
Devcon lifted his gaze and set it on a stout femme, her optics covered with lences. She peered curiously at him, trying to recognize his components, surely. It was slightly unsettling, but it was her chocen trade, Devcon knew this. And, it also meant that these spareparts had been another mech’s precious bits. It made him twitch repeatedly.
”Old model, very nicely molded. Costume made, pre-Great War. Sneaky too. Shows no transformation seams that will give the alt-model away. Very nice work, indeed… No visual elements. No signs of being a grounder. Hm.”
Devcon was almost hypnotised by the dull vocals as they rambled up several other things. He made a face as she moved away and walked around him. She was big. Delictate fingers, big hands. Long arms. He shot a qick look at her peds and realised that she could extend them, which she did. Oh, joy…
”You are an interesting mech,” she kept on as she leaned closer to his helm. Devcon fought the instict to move away, her scrutinizing gaze making his head-cannon train itself onto her. She ignored it, even as it raised itself in alarm. She poked it. Devcon moved away, almost startled. No, he didn’t enjoy that at all. For some reason he couldn’t start to fathom he felt threatened. The femme shook her helm.
”Sensitive: operative 100707; flyer model. Tiles enhanced for moving slightly under the speed of light. Wings… hidden. Yes, very sneaky indeed.”
”You stop that!” Devcon surely hadn’t meant to sound like that, but she was intimidating him. How did she do that? By touch? The Pit she would get another go! He pushed the sparepart onto the table and backed from her, slowly, intakes coming fast and shallow.
”Nothing here will be adequate, I’m afraid,” she said, taking the lences away. She held his optics, a small, businesslike smile in her face. ”Don’t worry, I won’t give anything away. It would be bad for business. But, you didn’t come here for spareparts. Your were looking for something special? A frabicant, a molder?”
The hunter stopped in midtrack. He tilted his helm, processing quickly. Perhaps he didn’t need Ram… this one seemed more skilled than the babbly mech. It was unsettling how good she was, but it would still be an asset. He swallowed and nodded.
”I’m tracking a mech who left me a little gift. I have a bit left of the drone.”
The femme nodded and made a hissing sound, sinking down to her normal height, which still was his size. She cocked her helm and out from a small door came another mech, waving them off.
”My co-worker will see to business. Would you follow me? I might need my work bech and it’s in the building.”
When Devcon didn’t move, she rolled her optics.
”…you want me to follow you into a dark, big building. You. A sparepart-merchant,” Devcon deadpanned. ”Are you insane? I know how your trade make creds, femme.”
”Scared I’ll take you apart and sell you to the highest bidding?”
Devcon growled and backed away again. Frag no, he’d been through far worse, but he had no intention of putting himself in that kind of danger again. The femme looked annoyed and put her hands on her hips, cutting an imposing picture. If she thought it would calm him down, she was walking down the wrong lane. The hunter shook his helm; frag this. It was better playing hide-and-see with Ram.
”If I go and get my gear and follow you to a nice, non-cluttered and slightly more dangerous place, say… a pub? Will you let me see what drone?”
What to do, what to do… It wasn’t entirely a bad idea. Devcon nodded and saw her move quickly. She wasn’t awkward, just strangely looking. Most sparepart merchents did look a bit… handmade. They gave themselves usefull upgrades that did them well during working hours, but scared the living crap out of mechs outside business partners. Take those lences - they made her look like some kind of a bug.
Devcon shuddered; he’d gotten enough of strange looking mechs lately.
The femme came back not a moment later, waving a big hand towards her co-worker and walking beside Devcon with an easy grin. She shot him curious looks now and then, but wisely kept her hands to herself. Devcon wondered how intrigued she was. He knew that most sparepart merchants had a bad reputation and that wasn’t mechs being overly worried. They were scary, scanning their surroundings constantly. As if waiting for mechs to be killed and then, pick their valuables and sell them…
”You know you are scowling at me, do you?”
Devcon was startled out of his dark musings and shutterblinked, refreshing his optics. He shrugged and walked on. The femme snorted.
”I know what you are thinking, mech. You think I’m gonna set a couple of big, mean mechs on your case, don’t ya?”
”Damn right. Do you blame me?”
”Hardly, since that is the normal outcome in most cases. You however, I wouldn’t be able to sell if I so searched for costumers all over the quadrant.”
He grunted and steered his steps towards a pub he’d visited quite a while ago. They had some decent booze and it was a clean, nice little hideaway. The owner also had the good taste of keeping order, so it was overall the kind of place Devcon would return to. He nodded at the bar and moved to the side, offering the femme a courteous, little smile. She returned the smile with a cynic grin and walked in before him. She knew what he was up to, of course. If she had people in there, they would jump her first.
Nothing of the sort happened and Devcon soon joined her at a large table. A servitor trudged towards them, offering them each a menu and while Devcon subspaced the leg, the femme ordered two cubes of mid-grade. She turned to Devcon and made a surprised little sound.
”Well, look at this…. Nice handywork. Melted.” She gave Devcon a long, flat stare. ”You blew it up? This was some good work!”
”Correction, he blew himself up. I refused taking a job for him and he went all glitchy. When I refused and added a certain name to it, he jumped up and screetched, then promptly blew half the pub into oblivion.”
The femme stared at Devcon and liftend the leg, sniffing. Her fingers changed form and quite a few gadgets were revealed. Devcon moved slightly away, looking apalled while thin threads moved inside the leg. She kept muttering under her breath and when she opened the leg, Devcon watched with a horrified look upon his faceplates. A small cough brought him out of the macabre situation. The servitor held the cubes towards them, asking no questions, then leaving at once. Devcon grunted. Perhaps it wasn’t an unusual view for them? It was for him, however.
The mid-grade was good and it soothed his sensors. The examination went on for quite a while, only punctuated by small snarls when something didn’t move or when the femme recorded something. Devcon wasn’t delicate, for frag’s sake, but this slag left him feeling queezy. He wondered how many mechs had been scanned for goods and taken out in a dark alleyway. Smelt, she’d even told him so…!
”Still wondering wether I’ll do this to you?”
”Try it, ” he snarled, ”and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
”Flyers,” she said softly. ”Cocky sons of glitches, all of you. Have reason to be, as well. But, you…? A masterpiece. I’d give my left leg to get a look inside of you, mech. I wonder what grand work was done to your frame. It looks so very shiny, so very new, yet I haven’t seen this kind of detailed working since before the Golden Age. Old, yet so very, very new. As I said; would give a limb to get to pick you apart.”
She raised her helm, lences making her look even stranger. She smiled, enjoying how he jerked away from her outstretched finger, and went on with work. Devcon growled a few insults but she ignored him, grabbed the cube and downed it. The servitor returned within a few klikks with a new cube. Devcon courteously waved him away. This wasn’t the right place, situaion or company to get himself unsteady. Perhaps he’d gotten himself into trouble. For some reason she scared him more than the notion of Cyclonus getting his paws on his spark. Again.
Devcon was going through some old files when the femme put the leg away. He watched her over the rim of his cube, noting a third empty cube by her side. She smirked and stretched her back, clicking softly.
”Done?”
She snorted and put various little tools away, gathering all smaller bits into boxes, storing them and subspacing them. Her grin widened. ”Mind if I keep them, as payment?”
Expensive parts, then. Devcon shrugged, didn’t matter to him. If she’d found anything exciting in there, good for her. He didn’t need the bits to get hold on the info and the less time he spended grounded, the faster he would be able to find Cyclonus.
”Quite an enemy you got there, mech. These parts? Fine, good ones. Upper class-mech stuff. You seldom find these components in drones. You said he blew himself up?”
Devcon nodded, turning the cube between his fingers.
”He looked a bit too… intense. He followed me for a bit, then almost ran me over. Sleek, no visible tires, yet he didn’t struck me as a flyer. Perhaps he was one, dunno. He could distort his own signal. Standard merch-gagdets, perhaps, but he didn’t look like one.”
He frowned.
”What happened before he blew himself up?”
”His vocals messed up, became stacky. Overly bright optics, too. As soon as I uttered a certain designation he almost folded himself in and I barely escaped the blast.”
The femme nodded, then scratched her chin, processing. Silence settled. Devcon regarded her with a guarded look upon his face. She knew things about him he’d rather kept a secret, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t get to look inside of him, no mech did. Last mech that had gotten the chance had been far more interested in his spark than his inner workings and that was it.
No more looking inside of him. No more poking the hunter. He was done with that kind of slag. All he wanted was to get a nice shot to inmobilise Cyclonus and then-
”He was reprogrammed, I think,” the femme commented after a while. ”You said he was a drone, but you are wrong. The device distorting his spark-signal, or whatever signal you are talking about must have been fiddled with. I’ve seen things like these before. Mechs turned into weapons, triggered by a word or a command. Sometimes both. They are expensive to come by, as well. As for how aware he was of his… problem, who knows? Even if he fought back, it must have been futile, his logic chip being rewritten by the compulsion of following orders. I dont’t think he had a chance to stop it, and when you triggered him, his processor was blasted and so was he. And said pub. Sad story, really.”
Devcon made a face. ”He didn’t look like a worker the first time I saw him, yet he had a chart attached to his back. Think he was forced…?”
The femme waved the servitor and ordered a few goodies before she answered him.
”He was a fine mech, made with the parts I’ve seen around here. Upper class-mech. Sleek form not made for work, merely for beauty. Expensive frame. I would guess they set him onto your case hoping to keep you occupied with him while they gathered some info on you. Normal routine for some merch-guilds, I think.”
”My guess as well,” Devcon admitted softly. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his optics. ”Dead end?”
”I would hardly call this a ”dead end”, mech. Those who reprogammed him added components and nanobots in his fuel lines. I got myself a little sample and my partner is processing the results this very moment. I should have them for you after down-shift.”
That was… helpful. Devcon shutterblinked, surprised that she would want to give him anything for free. If it was for free, of course. Who knew how much she would sell those bits for? A small fortune, if his calculations where anything to go by. He nodded, pleased with the outcome of the events.
”So… What’s your name, stranger?”
Devcon made a face. ”Gonna blow yourself up if I tell you? It would be pretty annoying, to be honest.”
”Ah. You think it was the combination of your designation and something else that turned him into a bomb? Quite possible, but look at me. Do I look like something anymech would be able to reprogram?”
He snorted and stretched his long legs out. ”Femme, I’ve seen the strongest of mechs be reprogrammed. You wouldn’t say that if you’d been in my chassis.”
The silence that followed was broken by the arrival of the servitor. He had a plate with goodies and Devcon smiled, his optics holding no mirth. Goodies. So… normal. The pink cubes seemed so out of place all the sudden. He shook his helm. This place behaved as if there wasn’t war going on. As if Cybertron wasn’t held captive by the dragon. Well, unless the Prime had done something about that. By now, problably. No that it mattered. Even if the dragon was done with, there was still other things that needed some solving.
Cyclonus hadn’t stolen the artifact for Megatron. No… not at all. He’d always been the kind of mech to do another’s dirty work. So, who was the mech pulling the threads? That was quite a hunt, wasn’t it?
”Most mechs would have been begging for one of these,” the merchant said all the sudden. ”How curious that you don’t even twitch at the smell. Can it be that you simply don’t need them? Do you even need energon to the same extend as a normal mech?”
Devcon snorted. ”Still trying to figure me out? Give it a rest, merchant. You won’t get any parts to sell from my frame. I’m not even compatible with newer frames.”
”But, you must have been extremely expensive, specially back then! Who would have the kind of creds to get a newspark such a grand frame? And, so old! Yet so new… That bit has me curious, mech.”
”I’ll have one then,” Devcon said with a amiable smile. ”Haven’t had one since… Well, frag me. I don’t even remember the last goodie I had.”
The femme looked almost confused with this change of mood, but she held the platter towards him with no further complaints. She watched him as he picked a nice little treat with silvery, strong fingers. He regarded her with a teasing grin and bit into the goodie, engines purring softly, a deep throbbing too low for most mechs to hear, but she heard and squirmed, too. His hunter programming suddenly activated, Devcon’s optics glowed darker, a mean streak just under the surface. No need to tell her, though, that she had become interesting…
”Those are some strong engines you have there, mech.”
He revved them just for the fun of it and watched her fingers dig into the table. Some mechs and femme had that reaction towards the deep vibrations he emitted. It was always nice to get that reaction, but he wasn’t interested in her that way and she wasn’t into his kind of mech either. The reaction was an involutanry one. He smirked and pushed the platter towards her, watching her scowl at him.
”So, you’ll keep the parts and give me the name I need?”
”I’ll have them for you if you answer me how the frag your model is so old, yet shiny new. I scanned you and everything seems newly made, yet not upgraded. How did you manage to get the new parts? Don’t try to lie to me. I’ve been into my trade long enough to recognize something impossible when I see it.”
”Huh… all right. Ever heard of a mech called Apelinq?”
She frowned, then widened her optics. Devcon nodded slowly; so she’d heard of him? Good. Perhaps it would put a stop to all her annoying questions. He nibbled the goodie while she gathered her wits. Then she nodded slowly, as if understanding something .
”Well, that settles it, then. You’ll get the info, names and facts as soon as I get them. Now you can tell me a sweet-spark and tell who you were going to meet here. My informants tell me you’ve been here for several Solar cycles, just walking around, looking for somebot.”
Devcon nodded. A trade as good as any. ”Small mech, twitchy-like. Works with mercs most of the time, even though he sometimes helps bounty hunters. If they have something he’ll want. Designation’s Ram, but I’m sure it’s not his real name.
The femme cocked her helm, looking almost upset. ”Ram? That little inventor-glitch? Well, he’s gone… Some brutes showed up not long ago, demanding to find him. They messed up half the bazaar, shooting and crushing helms. Security tried to stop them but failed. It was quite the assault and snatcher sold him out. Haven’t seen him since then.”
That… was a bad thing. Devcon frowned, cycling an intake slowly. He hadn’t planned for that bit, had he? The femme tapped his hand, drawing his attention back to her.
”You know Ram? Are you a friend of his?”
”No… Not, friends, but we’ve known each other for such a long time that… Frag. We’ve been on opposite sides more than once, merchant. Most of the time it’s me trying to stop him from selling weapons that will cripple me to my p-… Anyway. I was gonna buy some intel from him and show him the leg. You saved me for some more looking around, really.”
The femme was about to say something else when she suddenly froze, if so for a nano-klikk. She shook her helm and uttered a small, almost pained snarl, then gave Devcon an intense look.
”How about I go and kick my partner’s aft into gear? I think you might like to get your facts and leave this place. I don’t think it’s healthy for you.”
”…really? What makes you say that?”
The femme leaned forward and grabbed Devcon’s hand, looking perfectly happy, as if they were old friends or lovers. Devcon hissed, on his way to pull back, but her grip was strong enough to keep him pinned.
”Hey! You crush my wrists and I’ll break-”
”Did you know you are being followed?”
That calmed him down. ”Where?”
”Over there, in broad light.”
Devcon put his own hand over the merchant’s and nodded, looking all flirty and in a far better mood than he felt. He laughed as if her whisper had been a joke and generally turned around, as if happy.
Followed. Tagged. Game. He felt his hackles rise; those were mercs, not hunters. For a bounty hunter, being involved with mercs only meant trouble, since mercs banded up and hunters always kept to themselves. He kept laughing and grabbed the merchant’s chin, pulling her closer, whispering against her lips, close enough to kiss.
”I might just need that name a bit quicker than expected.”
”They’ll know where to look… fortunately for you, my partner isn’t the mech I left in charge of my shop. And if you move any closer, I’ll take a sample of that.”
Devcon growled and let go of the femme, annoyed and embarrased both. She smirked, touching his badge once, then withdrawing completely.
”I heard of an unusual mech, a blue flyer. A cocky glitch, always in trouble, always showing up when at least expected, bothering Ram… Your designation is Devcon, isn’t it?”
Well, at least she didn’t explode.
”So what? What’s your interest in me?”
”The mechs taking Ram were looking for you as well or for a mech with your discription, actually. I was… baffled, since you are supposed to be dead. Ram was upset.”
Upset? The slaggin’ glitch had more than once almost killed Devcon, knowing his tricks by spark. But, they had been at each other’s necks long enough to be considered more than enemies. Perhaps the mech had gotten fond of him surviving? The hunter shrugged and moved after the femme, following her towards a door behind the bar. The bartender shot them both a slow grin, nodding towards the servitor, who was closing the bar from the inside, locking the doors. Devcon shutterblinked; what the frag…?
The merchant rolled her optics, then hurried through the door.
~
Devcon stared at the femme with round optics.
”Lemme see if I got it right… The little glitch is your partner?!”
”You heard it right the first time, hunter. Now shut up and help me lift these things!”
He growled but did as asked. They were under ground, something that seldom left him happy. He’d been grounded enough for a whole lifetime, but that wasn’t anything he would be telling the femme. Specially since she was Ram’s partner. Fraggin luck, he should shoot her in the back, but being Ram’s partner meant she was hunter-safe.
”Why are we moving downwards?”
”Does the dark bother you?”
Devcon growled and helped her, straining his arms as he lifted a heavy bolt. He was strong, but so was she and she liked the looks he kept giving her. Well, he’d met strong femmes before, but this reeked Ram all the way. He’d modified her… Or even worse, perhaps the master-processor behind Ram’s success was this seemingly nameless femme.
”What’s your designation, anyway?”
”Most call me Bolt,” she answered with a huff. ”Not that it will somehow tell you anything about my bounty hunter-killer weapons. Lay off with the stares, mech. I don’t like you any more than you like me.”
He gave her a foul glare and dropped the bolt, kicking it with pleasure. The femme returned it and let go of her own bolt. She was formiddable, more than he’d first suspected. Scary as hell, too. ”How far off?”
”Give it a Solar or less and we’ll be out of range. They took Ram, but he got away fast enough, using those lovely little weapons he loves to make. It was rather entertaining to see the ships break apart from the inside.”
Devcon winced. ”…right. Much fun in that. So, he’s down hiding?”
”Uhu. The word spread quickly; they were looking for a dead mech and him, after all. No one expects you to be up and about, mech. Well, we have plenty of walking ahead of us. Perhaps you could tell me your tale?”
He grinned, mirth never reaching his optics. ”Long story that one.”
”It’s not like we have anything else to do,” she replied in a crispy tone. ”Come on, hunter. Make my day, will ya? If I’m not allowed to crack you up and take a look at those lovely relics that go as your inner workings, then you can at least repay me for that almost-kiss of yours.”
The hunter spluttered. ”It wasn’t a kiss!”
”Just get on with it, Autobot. What would it cost you?”
Devcon made a face and sighed. It would do him good, he reckoned, to get it all out of his spark.
~
The darkness grew heavier all the sudden and Devcon stopped talking. He lifted a hand and cocked his helm, reaching out with his masked signal. There was something nearby, something above them. A sound…?
”You heard that?”
Bolt’s surprised vocals echoed in the empty hall. Devcon turned, nodding. He frowned all the sudden, rubbing his side.
”Well, you weren’t supposed to.” The femme sighed deeply. ”I would love to dig into you, mech, ’cause that frequensy is locked and coded and basically unbreachable. We made it so, Ram and I. How the frag you heard it… I can only guess.”
Devcon could have told her, but didn’t. He’d already spilled enough to keep her entertained and when her questions had gotten to close to the parts he wouldn’t reveal, he’d told her of his many hunts. She specially like those in which Ram had gotten the upper hand.
”Ram will be delighted to see you, hunter.”
Oh, joy. He sighed, weary and grumpy. This was almost as bad as the constant chatter of the Wreckers. Ah, Primus! Soon he would be longing for Rodimus’s soft vocals. Ugh, that happened and he would gladly give Bolt access to his processor.
The femme ignored him and walked along, her odd form shifting slightly, clicking now and then. She moved fast, as well, almost gliding. Devcon had no trouble keeping up with her, not with his long strides. They kept walking, deeper and deeper, into the planet’s vowels. It was unsettling and Devcon started to feel trapped. It was a bad sensation all over, truly, but he had no choice. It was meeting Ram or getting into a skirmish with mercs. He couldn’t take on them, not the same way he’d reacted in Welder’s place. Back then he’d been reckless… Well, more reckless, then.
Things had changed with that bomb.
If the mercs were hunting him for Cyclonus, then there would be a dozen or more, all so very willing to come after him. There were different bands and guilds, but more than one had wanted him dead over countless years. Life wasn’t always pleasant in the border planets and Devcon had made sure of keeping track on several merc companies. Most of them were guilty in providing a bit o’ help to Decepticons in need. For a fair share of creds, of course.
Any bounty hunter would know this… and Devcon had used the same channels to trap his prey. Now they were possibly ganging up on him and as if it wasn’t bad enough knowing that Cyclonus was out there, now he had to figure out a way of escaping the mercs. They were dangerous, fierce. They would attack relentlessly, force hunters into corners. Tear them to pieces. Much like a pack of mad dogs, of course. Devcon had been at the wrong end of that a few times. His wings had been what saved him back then.
”We’re here.”
Bolt’s vocals cut through his musings, drawing his attention to her. In the dim light, she looked more like a statue, something twisted and proud, something of unknown Cybertronian origin. She smiled and pressed her palm onto the wall, opening a secret door. Devcon snorted ungraciously; of course. Leave it to Ram to make everything a little game. The door she hadn’t opened? It would probably be a trap, a nasty, bounty-hunter-killing trap. A trap you’d only be able to survive if you could guess a riddle. Or something worse.
He made a face.
The good ol’ times had been filled with that kind of scrap. He’d learnt that with Ram, everything was a game. His favourite one had been ”blow the hunter up”, after all. Devcon wasn’t too upset about that, however. It had been a good way of learning how to maneuver in mid-air while shooting down grenades. His scowl became a wry grin. It was a good memory, that one.
”Devcon!”
The hunter looked up and shot of a grin in Ram’s general direction. He chuckled as he moved forward, leaving Bolt behind. Aw, smelt. Who was he lying to? It was good to see the merchang, truly. They met halfway and grabbed each other’s lower arms, greeting.
”I see they failed to keep you locked up.”
The odd looking mech snorted and let go of Devcon’s arm. He was a smaller mech, shorter than Bolt and Devcon both. He made up in limbs, however. His four hands were busy working with something, always making weapons, always delivering his goods. Devcon was greatful for the mech’s curious quirks; he would sell costumized weapons to any mech who could cough up the creds, but he never sold anything to mechs from either fractions. His weapons weren’t found in Autobot camps or in Decepticon claws.
More than anything, he would create a nasty little something for fugitives. ”To give them a fair chance” he would explain himself later on.
Devcon had had many small encounters with easy prey suddenly turned to bestial warriors. He’d also hunted Ram for his own enjoyment. The weapon smith would only answer with his own brand of insanity, almost blowing him up. While not enemies, they weren’t friends either, more like… pals.
”I’ve never was locked up. I let them take me to be able to infiltrate their ships and blow them apart. I got much satisfaction from that.”
He gave Devcon a witty grin and waved to Bolt, walking towards a small table. The room was messy, full with components and things half made. Devcon made sure to keep his optics off the various strange looking things laying around. It did him no good to have Ram show his newest weapon, since he was likely to use it on him. Instead he sat down and rubbed his jawline, wondering how to get out of the planet fast enough. It wasn’t that he disliked Ram, but trust was a bit too much to ask.
”…right. Hey, Bolt said they were looking for me?”
”They were looking for you, yes. I told them you were much dead, that the Marshals had been crushed quite a while ago, but there was this slagger transmitting orders, saying you would be around soon enough.”
He snorted and a hand reached for a cube, another pushing a cube towards Devcon. ”A friend of yours, I take it?”
”…no, not really. I’m hunting a two-faced Decepticon, a mech that goes by the name Cyclonus. Ugly, metal only, none of the organic sort. He put a Wrecker in stasis lock in Archa Nine and took off with some random power-enhancing trinket. I mean to kill him, slowly.”
Ram nodded. He knew Devcon well enough not to be put off by the cold of his vocals and the raw hunger in his optics. Instead, he turned to Bolt and Devcon felt their silent communication as a cold, clammy hand to his thighs. He shuddered and leaned his helm backwards, slouching on the chair.
Frag, he was tired… too many jumps, too much hunting, too little fuel. He didn’t need it yet, but recharge was something else. Slag… Well, a few more jumps, some info digging and a good rest afterwards. Yes, that would do. The clammy hand-like pressure went away and Bolt refreshed her vocals.
”Hunter? Ram and I have decided to give you a, uhm. A very special map. A small upgrade - no, it won’t explode, relax.”
”No more games, hunter.” Ram looked serious for once, perfectly serene. ”I heard your tale and even I feel responsible for our kind and its survival. I can’t give you anything that will enhance the power you already execed, but the chart... Oh, hunter.”
”It will take you every where you want," Bolt explained. "We’ve spent years refining the programming, adding every single scrap of knowledge of the verse and beyond. We were to sell it,” Bolt continued, ”but not anymore. We think you might need it more than we need creds, anyway. You gave me your story, even a little kiss. That’s payment enough.”
”There was no kiss!”
”Call it whatever you wish to,” Ram said with a grin. ”How about it? Will you take our handiwork and add it to your collection of perfectly costumized bits?”
Devcon made a face and sighed, nodded quietly. Ram was a genius, Bolt seemed to have the same processor power. Together, they could probably solve every little annoying problem in the ’verse. He stood up, stretching and walked slowly towards the berthlike stoneslab in the middle of the room. He lay down, keeping Ram’s optics as he aproached the slab.
”This once and never again,” Devcon warned him.
The smaller mech grinned and set to work.