When Wise Mechs are Banished -- Hound
Title: When Wise Mechs are Banished -- Hound
Word Count: 2644
Summary: Prequel to Where Wise Mechs Fear to Tread. How and why Hound was sentenced to base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E.
Rating: T
Previous chapters: Prowl, Ratchet, Jazz, Wheeljack, Bumblebee, The Dinobots, The Aerialbots, Red Alert & Inferno, Mirage, Interlude - BOOM
HOUND
Hound didn't like people. He didn't like being around them, didn't like the way they sounded, didn't like the way they smelled, didn't like the way they thought. They were too... Well, they would use the word “sophisticated,” but Hound thought it to be the opposite.
The green mech had been a scout and tracker his entire life. He had been sparked by the groundskeeper of a wildlife reserve and a tracker in the employ of the Nobles. He had been raised in the reserve, around the half-tamed petro-hounds and cybercats, and had preferred mechanimals over other younglings as his playmates.
He, like his sire and carrier, learned how to survive out in the wild, where energon was found in wellsprings or taken from the lines of mechanimals.
When the war broke out, his little family was mostly unaffected. Until his sire had gone to the Towers, and the Towers had been bombed. Hound's carrier tried to hold on for his sake, but soon faded and followed his bonded to the Well.
Hound was left alone on the reserve. He was a mech now, no longer a youngling or mechling, and knew he could survive. He also knew he wanted no place in the War.
So he disappeared. Packed what few belongings he had and vanished into the wilds to survive and live on his own.
He stayed there, alone save for the three petro-hounds that had followed him, watching the war from a distance, for vorns. He was content out there, surviving off the land with is little pack. He would have been happy if the war had never found him, if he had been able to live out his life in the wilderness of Cybertron.
But like all bad things, war spreads and infects all it touches.
It was a bad day already. It had rained, though not the acid stuff the Decepticons had introduced into the Southern hemisphere. Then the moosebot Hound had been tracking with his petro-hounds had wandered into Decepticon territory.
Hound vented as he stared at the moosebot's tracks.
“Well, boys, looks like we're going hungry tonight. Sorry,” he murmured to the canines at his feet. They whined and butted their helms against his legs. It wouldn't be the first time they had gone without energon because of a failed hunt, but it was never pleasant.
They turned and headed back to their current home, a small cave at the base of the mountains.
They never made it.
Three quarters of the way there, they found Autobots.
Five of them, all large and sturdily build, all different colors. One dark gray, one a pale gray-blue, one a mottled brown-rust-red, one a dark red, and the last a dusty green. They were scouting around, spread out in a long line. Distant enough from each other that they didn't cover the same ground, but close enough to call for help if it was needed.
And close enough together that sneaking through the line wouldn't be possible, even with his holograms. He'd have to go around.
Letting out a whine eerily similar to those his hounds made, he started off to the right.
It was a long walk. Two bots could put a lot of space in between them and still be able to sense everything in between. Five bots could span a massive distance if they didn't have to focus on anything other than searching.
Add to that the fact that the line was always moving, and Hound had an even harder time of it.
Eventually, though, he rounded the edge of the line and started moving toward the cave.
Which was when he stumbled upon a half-deactivated mech.
He was mostly black, with highlights of red and white. He had rocket launchers on each shoulder, but, as this was wartime, that was not uncommon.
He also had a gaping gash through his chassis plating. It was oozing energon. Slowly, but still leaking, even though Hound could tell the wound was old.
The green mech quickly crouched down next to the downed scout, running his scanners over and through the mech.
“Slag,” he murmured when the results pinged back. The mech's energy reserves were barely above three percent. Much, much too low. Fishing an old cube filled with energon from a moosebot he and his petro-hounds had taken three orns ago, he lifted the mech's helm slightly. After a slight hesitation, he poured the energon into the other mech's mouth, then settled back a bit to keep watch.
This was obviously what - or who - the scouts were looking for, but they were heading in the wrong way. And Hound, in good conscience, couldn't just leave this mech to die.
Frowning, he whistled his petro-hounds over and gave the simple command of “fetch,” specifying the mechs they had passed with a sweep of his hand. The three canines whined, then slunk off rather reluctantly to do as they had been told as Hound stayed kneeling over the black mech.
It was not long before the dogs came prancing back to him, one of them with a blaster clutched in its jaws, followed by an angry mech. It was the brown-rust-red one.
As soon as he saw Hound cradling the black mech's helm in his lap, his fury was forgotten as he rushed to the two mechs.
“Oh, Primus! Trailbreaker, what happened to you?” he cried, then muttered as he skidded to a stop.
Only then did he remember to activate his comm link. “Guys! I’ve... Trailbreaker's been found,” he corrected himself as he glanced at Hound. The green tracker simply rolled his optics and scooted back, gently lowering Trailbreaker's helm. The reddish mech smiled at him.
“Thank you, so much! We've been searching for him for an orn now, and we were starting to think... But that doesn't matter. My name's Starset, Autobot tracker and our team second. Trailbreaker's our unit leader. What's your name?”
Hound tilted his helm. “Doesn't matter. No one uses it anyways.” The green tracker gestured to the three petro-hounds now sitting happily at his sides.
“Doesn't... Doesn't that get lonely?”
The green mech smiled. “Nope. And I don't have to shoot anyone, ever, so...”
Starset glanced down. “Right.”
There was an awkward silence, broken only by the hurried approach of the other scouts. They bustled around the prone mech, looking very busy, though Hound couldn't tell what, exactly, they thought they were doing.
Hound slipped away, followed by his silent canines. Two breems later, when Starset looked up to thank him again, he was gone.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Hound forgot about the incident and went on with his life as soon as he left the little gathering. It was how he lived. Orn to orn, without lingering in the past.
So ten orns later, while he was out hunting, he didn't expect to run across anyone.
“Hey,” the black mech said, shifting awkwardly on his pedes. Hound tilted his helm to the side and watched warily. Trailbreaker simply stood, watching the green mech through a dark blue visor.
“Hello,” Hound finally said after a long moment, still tense and wary.
“They told me a mech in the wild saved my spark,” the larger mech said, shifting his gaze down.
“I did, I suppose. No thanks necessary.”
Trailbreaker frowned. “What do you mean? You saved my spark.”
“So? I'd do it for anyone,” Hound said, his own expression copying Trailbreaker's. “It was nothing personal. At all.”
Trailbreaker huffed a quiet laugh. “I know. You had no idea who I was. But I wanted to say thanks. It's... It's rare to find someone who'll just help like that, especially in these orns.”
“Yeah, well, forget it. It's over and done,” Hound snapped, and turned away.
“Wait-” Trailbreaker called, but the green loner did not pause. The black mech huffed in frustration and activated his shield generators. Purplish light flared in front of the tracker, and Hound fell back with a curse as he stepped into it.
Trailbreaker watched as he stood up and looked around. The purple shield was a bubble around the both of them. “What do you want?”
“For you to actually listen. I just wanted to say thank you...” Trailbreaker trailed off. “What is it you're afraid of?” he asked after a moment of staring at the green mech.
Hound froze. “Nothing. I’m not scared.”
“Then why-”
The green tracker snarled and lunged forward, pushing up against the black scout. His sharp fingers hovered over the main lines in Trailbreaker's neck. “I don't want you near me! You bring war! I was fine, out of it, when I was alone, but you insist on dragging it deeper and deeper into the wild! I won't have anywhere to go if... if...”
The black Autobot stared. “You just want peace.” Hound nodded slowly, and Trailbreaker stepped back, the force field disappearing. “Then I apologize. I hope nothing bad comes of my... visit.”
The wild mech just shook his helm. “You were already out here. What's done is done. I... You're welcome.”
Trailbreaker smiled as he kept moving backwards. “Yes. Thank you. Perhaps I’ll see you again sometime. After...”
He didn't say “after the war.” It's end was not in sight yet.
Hound nodded and started on his way. Trailbreaker turned and headed back to his base, doing his best to push the green mech out of his processor. It would be best to forget.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
An alarm was going off. It was a usual occurrence. It was the alarm that said someone was at the entrance to the base, and people were constantly coming and going.
This time was a bit different, though.
A haggard mech, armor torn and stained with rust and ash, more gray than green, with an unconscious petro-hound slung over his shoulders. The mech was exhausted, barely standing alone. His blue optics flickered dimly.
Trailbreaker had been in the courtyard with his team mates when the mech had stumbled to the gate. The first glance simply dismissed him as another road-weary neutral traveler, come to join the Autobots.
Then his processors, trained to track, to notice details, picked up a few things. The petro-hound was first. Then the remaining scraps of green paint. Then the fact that this mech was built for traversing the wilds, and very familiar at that. As much as he had tried to forget, there were some things that were burned into his spark.
The black Autobot whipped his helm around fast enough to kink a tension wire in his neck. “You?” he whispered, blue visor glittering.
“TB? Hey, what's up?” Starset said, then followed his gaze. “Another neutral? What's so... Oh!”
Trailbreaker wasn't listening, though. He had gotten up and was walking over to the three mechs - Hound and the two Autobots interrogating him.
“Hey!” the black tracker said as he walked up, and Hound jerked his helm up.
A weak chuckle left the vocalizer of the once-green mech. “Trailbreaker.”
Nothing more was said between the two. Nothing needed to be. They understood. War had found Hound, and he had come to the one place he knew he had a friend. Trailbreaker vouched for him, and the green mech was taken to the med bay.
Three orns later, he was wearing an Autobot brand and registered as an Autobot scout and tracker in Trailbreaker's team.
The petro-hound was allowed to stay too, but it soon wandered off. Army life was not for animals. Hound didn't say anything when it left. He just smiled sadly whenever anyone asked where it had gone.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Trailbreaker vented as he looked at the orders. Hound had caused trouble. He was a nice mech, really. Friendly, got on with most of the other mechs, was always happy... but he had spent most of his life in the wild. He didn't understand many social rules. He acted like a petro-hound for the most part.
For the other trackers, it was understandable. Acceptable, even. They enjoyed it; it was natural, easy. They all acted like that at some point or other.
For the rest of the army, it was repulsive and primitive behavior.
And so Hound was being transferred out.
Trailbreaker was delivering the orders himself.
The door before him had never looked so impenetrable and depressing. Another long vent, this one to steady himself, and he pinged for entrance.
Hound granted it immediately, happy to see his friend. “Trailbreaker, nice to see you!”
“And you, as well,” the black Autobot said in greeting, smiling at the tracker.
The green mech glanced at the datapad and smiled grimly. “They're moving me out.”
“Uh... Yes. How did you know?”
Hound shrugged. “Lots of things. But I know I don't fit here.”
Trailbreaker let out a dry laugh. “No. But...”
“No.” He shook his helm. “TB, it's fine. I knew this would be coming. I’m a scout. I’m supposed to be able to see up the trail a bit. Where am I being sent?”
Another long vent cycled its way through Trailbreaker's circulation system. “A little moon base, a long ways out. Moon Base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E. Here,” he said as he handed over a datapad with information on the base.
Hound nodded and took the datapad, skimming over it before talking. “Okay. I’ll get packed up.”
Trailbreaker watched as the green mech stowed his few belongings in subspace.
“When do I leave?”
“In a joor.”
With a nod, Hound stepped past his friend and into the hallway, patting the thickly armored shoulder as he passed. “Lead the way, TB.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
The shuttle was ready to go, parked neatly in one of the docking bays. Hound stared at it for a long moment before turning to smile at Trailbreaker.
“What are you scared of?” he asked his friend, and the black mech stared.
Then his expression softened into a loving smile. “Losing what I care about.”
Hound grinned and leaned forward and up. “I'll see you again sometime, you know. I’m a scout. I’m supposed to be able to look and see the trail ahead,” he whispered in a black audio. “And our future is looking good.” He pulled back slightly, then pressed a gentle kiss to Trailbreaker's lips.
The black mech was frozen for a klik. Then he responded, kissing back just as gently. Both mechs pulled away, smiling softly at each other. Hound stepped backwards toward the ship.
“See you around, TB,” he called, then turned and walked up the ramp.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
“Welcome to Moon Base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E. I am Base Commander Prowl.”
“Hound. Autobot scout.”
Prowl nodded. “Welcome, Autobot Hound. Normally, I would show a new arrival around, but something has... come up. This is Mirage,” he said, and gestured at the empty air at his side. “He will take my place as tour guide.”
Hound raised an optical ridge and glanced at the empty spot. Perhaps this base was full of mechs a little more kooky than he had been lead to believe by the report. Then something caught his optic. New scuff marks on the ground, in blue and black. Prowl was black, but he had no blue. And the air currents were all wrong.
Sure enough, the air shimmered, and a mech was standing there. Blue and white, long and slim, delicate but strong.
“Hello,” the mech said, and Hound instantly identified him as a former Noble.
“Hey,” he said back, smiling. “Name's Hound.”
“I know. I am Mirage.”
“Nice to meet you, Mirage.”
“You as well.”
Word Count: 2644
Summary: Prequel to Where Wise Mechs Fear to Tread. How and why Hound was sentenced to base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E.
Rating: T
Previous chapters: Prowl, Ratchet, Jazz, Wheeljack, Bumblebee, The Dinobots, The Aerialbots, Red Alert & Inferno, Mirage, Interlude - BOOM
HOUND
Hound didn't like people. He didn't like being around them, didn't like the way they sounded, didn't like the way they smelled, didn't like the way they thought. They were too... Well, they would use the word “sophisticated,” but Hound thought it to be the opposite.
The green mech had been a scout and tracker his entire life. He had been sparked by the groundskeeper of a wildlife reserve and a tracker in the employ of the Nobles. He had been raised in the reserve, around the half-tamed petro-hounds and cybercats, and had preferred mechanimals over other younglings as his playmates.
He, like his sire and carrier, learned how to survive out in the wild, where energon was found in wellsprings or taken from the lines of mechanimals.
When the war broke out, his little family was mostly unaffected. Until his sire had gone to the Towers, and the Towers had been bombed. Hound's carrier tried to hold on for his sake, but soon faded and followed his bonded to the Well.
Hound was left alone on the reserve. He was a mech now, no longer a youngling or mechling, and knew he could survive. He also knew he wanted no place in the War.
So he disappeared. Packed what few belongings he had and vanished into the wilds to survive and live on his own.
He stayed there, alone save for the three petro-hounds that had followed him, watching the war from a distance, for vorns. He was content out there, surviving off the land with is little pack. He would have been happy if the war had never found him, if he had been able to live out his life in the wilderness of Cybertron.
But like all bad things, war spreads and infects all it touches.
It was a bad day already. It had rained, though not the acid stuff the Decepticons had introduced into the Southern hemisphere. Then the moosebot Hound had been tracking with his petro-hounds had wandered into Decepticon territory.
Hound vented as he stared at the moosebot's tracks.
“Well, boys, looks like we're going hungry tonight. Sorry,” he murmured to the canines at his feet. They whined and butted their helms against his legs. It wouldn't be the first time they had gone without energon because of a failed hunt, but it was never pleasant.
They turned and headed back to their current home, a small cave at the base of the mountains.
They never made it.
Three quarters of the way there, they found Autobots.
Five of them, all large and sturdily build, all different colors. One dark gray, one a pale gray-blue, one a mottled brown-rust-red, one a dark red, and the last a dusty green. They were scouting around, spread out in a long line. Distant enough from each other that they didn't cover the same ground, but close enough to call for help if it was needed.
And close enough together that sneaking through the line wouldn't be possible, even with his holograms. He'd have to go around.
Letting out a whine eerily similar to those his hounds made, he started off to the right.
It was a long walk. Two bots could put a lot of space in between them and still be able to sense everything in between. Five bots could span a massive distance if they didn't have to focus on anything other than searching.
Add to that the fact that the line was always moving, and Hound had an even harder time of it.
Eventually, though, he rounded the edge of the line and started moving toward the cave.
Which was when he stumbled upon a half-deactivated mech.
He was mostly black, with highlights of red and white. He had rocket launchers on each shoulder, but, as this was wartime, that was not uncommon.
He also had a gaping gash through his chassis plating. It was oozing energon. Slowly, but still leaking, even though Hound could tell the wound was old.
The green mech quickly crouched down next to the downed scout, running his scanners over and through the mech.
“Slag,” he murmured when the results pinged back. The mech's energy reserves were barely above three percent. Much, much too low. Fishing an old cube filled with energon from a moosebot he and his petro-hounds had taken three orns ago, he lifted the mech's helm slightly. After a slight hesitation, he poured the energon into the other mech's mouth, then settled back a bit to keep watch.
This was obviously what - or who - the scouts were looking for, but they were heading in the wrong way. And Hound, in good conscience, couldn't just leave this mech to die.
Frowning, he whistled his petro-hounds over and gave the simple command of “fetch,” specifying the mechs they had passed with a sweep of his hand. The three canines whined, then slunk off rather reluctantly to do as they had been told as Hound stayed kneeling over the black mech.
It was not long before the dogs came prancing back to him, one of them with a blaster clutched in its jaws, followed by an angry mech. It was the brown-rust-red one.
As soon as he saw Hound cradling the black mech's helm in his lap, his fury was forgotten as he rushed to the two mechs.
“Oh, Primus! Trailbreaker, what happened to you?” he cried, then muttered as he skidded to a stop.
Only then did he remember to activate his comm link. “Guys! I’ve... Trailbreaker's been found,” he corrected himself as he glanced at Hound. The green tracker simply rolled his optics and scooted back, gently lowering Trailbreaker's helm. The reddish mech smiled at him.
“Thank you, so much! We've been searching for him for an orn now, and we were starting to think... But that doesn't matter. My name's Starset, Autobot tracker and our team second. Trailbreaker's our unit leader. What's your name?”
Hound tilted his helm. “Doesn't matter. No one uses it anyways.” The green tracker gestured to the three petro-hounds now sitting happily at his sides.
“Doesn't... Doesn't that get lonely?”
The green mech smiled. “Nope. And I don't have to shoot anyone, ever, so...”
Starset glanced down. “Right.”
There was an awkward silence, broken only by the hurried approach of the other scouts. They bustled around the prone mech, looking very busy, though Hound couldn't tell what, exactly, they thought they were doing.
Hound slipped away, followed by his silent canines. Two breems later, when Starset looked up to thank him again, he was gone.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Hound forgot about the incident and went on with his life as soon as he left the little gathering. It was how he lived. Orn to orn, without lingering in the past.
So ten orns later, while he was out hunting, he didn't expect to run across anyone.
“Hey,” the black mech said, shifting awkwardly on his pedes. Hound tilted his helm to the side and watched warily. Trailbreaker simply stood, watching the green mech through a dark blue visor.
“Hello,” Hound finally said after a long moment, still tense and wary.
“They told me a mech in the wild saved my spark,” the larger mech said, shifting his gaze down.
“I did, I suppose. No thanks necessary.”
Trailbreaker frowned. “What do you mean? You saved my spark.”
“So? I'd do it for anyone,” Hound said, his own expression copying Trailbreaker's. “It was nothing personal. At all.”
Trailbreaker huffed a quiet laugh. “I know. You had no idea who I was. But I wanted to say thanks. It's... It's rare to find someone who'll just help like that, especially in these orns.”
“Yeah, well, forget it. It's over and done,” Hound snapped, and turned away.
“Wait-” Trailbreaker called, but the green loner did not pause. The black mech huffed in frustration and activated his shield generators. Purplish light flared in front of the tracker, and Hound fell back with a curse as he stepped into it.
Trailbreaker watched as he stood up and looked around. The purple shield was a bubble around the both of them. “What do you want?”
“For you to actually listen. I just wanted to say thank you...” Trailbreaker trailed off. “What is it you're afraid of?” he asked after a moment of staring at the green mech.
Hound froze. “Nothing. I’m not scared.”
“Then why-”
The green tracker snarled and lunged forward, pushing up against the black scout. His sharp fingers hovered over the main lines in Trailbreaker's neck. “I don't want you near me! You bring war! I was fine, out of it, when I was alone, but you insist on dragging it deeper and deeper into the wild! I won't have anywhere to go if... if...”
The black Autobot stared. “You just want peace.” Hound nodded slowly, and Trailbreaker stepped back, the force field disappearing. “Then I apologize. I hope nothing bad comes of my... visit.”
The wild mech just shook his helm. “You were already out here. What's done is done. I... You're welcome.”
Trailbreaker smiled as he kept moving backwards. “Yes. Thank you. Perhaps I’ll see you again sometime. After...”
He didn't say “after the war.” It's end was not in sight yet.
Hound nodded and started on his way. Trailbreaker turned and headed back to his base, doing his best to push the green mech out of his processor. It would be best to forget.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
An alarm was going off. It was a usual occurrence. It was the alarm that said someone was at the entrance to the base, and people were constantly coming and going.
This time was a bit different, though.
A haggard mech, armor torn and stained with rust and ash, more gray than green, with an unconscious petro-hound slung over his shoulders. The mech was exhausted, barely standing alone. His blue optics flickered dimly.
Trailbreaker had been in the courtyard with his team mates when the mech had stumbled to the gate. The first glance simply dismissed him as another road-weary neutral traveler, come to join the Autobots.
Then his processors, trained to track, to notice details, picked up a few things. The petro-hound was first. Then the remaining scraps of green paint. Then the fact that this mech was built for traversing the wilds, and very familiar at that. As much as he had tried to forget, there were some things that were burned into his spark.
The black Autobot whipped his helm around fast enough to kink a tension wire in his neck. “You?” he whispered, blue visor glittering.
“TB? Hey, what's up?” Starset said, then followed his gaze. “Another neutral? What's so... Oh!”
Trailbreaker wasn't listening, though. He had gotten up and was walking over to the three mechs - Hound and the two Autobots interrogating him.
“Hey!” the black tracker said as he walked up, and Hound jerked his helm up.
A weak chuckle left the vocalizer of the once-green mech. “Trailbreaker.”
Nothing more was said between the two. Nothing needed to be. They understood. War had found Hound, and he had come to the one place he knew he had a friend. Trailbreaker vouched for him, and the green mech was taken to the med bay.
Three orns later, he was wearing an Autobot brand and registered as an Autobot scout and tracker in Trailbreaker's team.
The petro-hound was allowed to stay too, but it soon wandered off. Army life was not for animals. Hound didn't say anything when it left. He just smiled sadly whenever anyone asked where it had gone.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Trailbreaker vented as he looked at the orders. Hound had caused trouble. He was a nice mech, really. Friendly, got on with most of the other mechs, was always happy... but he had spent most of his life in the wild. He didn't understand many social rules. He acted like a petro-hound for the most part.
For the other trackers, it was understandable. Acceptable, even. They enjoyed it; it was natural, easy. They all acted like that at some point or other.
For the rest of the army, it was repulsive and primitive behavior.
And so Hound was being transferred out.
Trailbreaker was delivering the orders himself.
The door before him had never looked so impenetrable and depressing. Another long vent, this one to steady himself, and he pinged for entrance.
Hound granted it immediately, happy to see his friend. “Trailbreaker, nice to see you!”
“And you, as well,” the black Autobot said in greeting, smiling at the tracker.
The green mech glanced at the datapad and smiled grimly. “They're moving me out.”
“Uh... Yes. How did you know?”
Hound shrugged. “Lots of things. But I know I don't fit here.”
Trailbreaker let out a dry laugh. “No. But...”
“No.” He shook his helm. “TB, it's fine. I knew this would be coming. I’m a scout. I’m supposed to be able to see up the trail a bit. Where am I being sent?”
Another long vent cycled its way through Trailbreaker's circulation system. “A little moon base, a long ways out. Moon Base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E. Here,” he said as he handed over a datapad with information on the base.
Hound nodded and took the datapad, skimming over it before talking. “Okay. I’ll get packed up.”
Trailbreaker watched as the green mech stowed his few belongings in subspace.
“When do I leave?”
“In a joor.”
With a nod, Hound stepped past his friend and into the hallway, patting the thickly armored shoulder as he passed. “Lead the way, TB.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
The shuttle was ready to go, parked neatly in one of the docking bays. Hound stared at it for a long moment before turning to smile at Trailbreaker.
“What are you scared of?” he asked his friend, and the black mech stared.
Then his expression softened into a loving smile. “Losing what I care about.”
Hound grinned and leaned forward and up. “I'll see you again sometime, you know. I’m a scout. I’m supposed to be able to look and see the trail ahead,” he whispered in a black audio. “And our future is looking good.” He pulled back slightly, then pressed a gentle kiss to Trailbreaker's lips.
The black mech was frozen for a klik. Then he responded, kissing back just as gently. Both mechs pulled away, smiling softly at each other. Hound stepped backwards toward the ship.
“See you around, TB,” he called, then turned and walked up the ramp.
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
“Welcome to Moon Base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E. I am Base Commander Prowl.”
“Hound. Autobot scout.”
Prowl nodded. “Welcome, Autobot Hound. Normally, I would show a new arrival around, but something has... come up. This is Mirage,” he said, and gestured at the empty air at his side. “He will take my place as tour guide.”
Hound raised an optical ridge and glanced at the empty spot. Perhaps this base was full of mechs a little more kooky than he had been lead to believe by the report. Then something caught his optic. New scuff marks on the ground, in blue and black. Prowl was black, but he had no blue. And the air currents were all wrong.
Sure enough, the air shimmered, and a mech was standing there. Blue and white, long and slim, delicate but strong.
“Hello,” the mech said, and Hound instantly identified him as a former Noble.
“Hey,” he said back, smiling. “Name's Hound.”
“I know. I am Mirage.”
“Nice to meet you, Mirage.”
“You as well.”