A minor setback!
Title: The Nine Rings of Vos: Rebellion
A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: Explosions run in the family... or is it that the family runs in explosions? I dunno. It works either way I suppose.
Timeline: More fic found here.
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(In which an Outsider youngling is adopted by a trine.)
“… That won’t work. See if you remove the heat sink then you lose…” The voice had strange harmonics, slipping in and out of focus in fragments of sentences interspersed with almost musical nonsense sounds. Curious, the youngling poked his head around the doorway and had to stifle a gasp.
Seekers! A full trine of Seekers!
For all that he had lived his entire life with Vos right next door, the white and grey mechlet had never seen a Seeker up close before. They were notoriously insular, and it seemed that familiarity really did breed contempt, because one was far more likely to encounter a Seeker halfway around the planet in Kaon or Polyhex than in Tarn or Iacon, even though Vos was a neighbouring city-state.
As excited as he was, it took a few megaclicks for the youngling to pay attention to what the Seekers were actually doing rather than just staring at them in fascination. Optics blinking, the youngling cocked his head to one side in confusion. It looked like the Seekers - or at least, the yellow and grey Seeker - was working on an engineering project. Frowning, the youngling watched more closely. Yes, the yellow one was working on something that looked a great deal like the matter-to-energy converter that the lab engineers had been contracted to develop. The blue Seeker was pulling up diagrams on the holographic display and arguing with the yellow one. At least, it seemed like he was arguing, even though the youngling could not make out any actually words. The Seekers were waving their arms around the same way his creator did when he was mad. The blue one seemed to be making some kind of point, because the yellow one was making some funny growling sounds.
“Well now, what have we here?” The amused voice came from right beside him, making the youngling jump and gasp in surprise. The green and red Seeker looked amused. Wide opticked the youngling glanced at the workbench where he was certain the Seeker had been just a moment before. Beakers and tubes of various chemicals and unknown substances sat undisturbed. How had he missed the Seeker moving?
“They are rather attention grabbing, aren’t they?” The Seeker laughed, and looked fondly at the other two jets, who were still arguing. “I suppose that’s what happens when you mix a theoretical physicist with a technical engineer.”
“I…” The youngling ducked his head when his vocals warbled in his nervousness. “I thought Seekers were all military models.”
“Oh, we are.” The Seeker chuckled and patted the youngling’s shoulder. “But just because we’re all made for war doesn’t mean we all specialize in it.”
“Oh.” The youngling turned that thought over and decided that it made sense. He had met an architect model who had specialized in demolitions once, so he figured that a war model could decide to do… the youngling blinked and looked up at the friendly Seeker. “So what do you do?”
“Hm, well officially I’m a security guard.” The red and green Seeker chuckled. “But if you’re asking about unofficially, I’m and experimental chemist with a specialty in combustible fuels. My designation is Windsheer, nice to meet you, youngling.”
“Really?” The youngling straightened up and grinned. The engineers and scientists his creator mingled with tended to ignore him. Even if the Seeker was not a real chemist (and how could he be, without going to the Science Academy?) Maybe Windsheer could still teach him something new and interesting. “What are you working on now? And - oh. Sorry. It’s nice to meet you too. I’m called…”
/…/
“Keep up.” His creator snapped. “I agreed to allow you access to this demonstration, but that does not mean that I am going to put up with any sparkling nonsense.”
“Yes sir.” The youngling held back his protests and followed his creator in to the room where the scientists who had helped his creator with this project were standing around their invention. Windsheer was standing on the other side of the door, but his creator had not even let him say hello! It was always like that, Windsheer and Nosedive and Tailspin were some of the smartest mechs he knew, but everyone treated them like they were stupid. It was unfair! He bet that if they had been allowed to help, the Seekers would have made the project work better and finished it faster. Too upset to pay real attention, the youngling sulked against the far wall as the scientists - his creator among them - prepared the machine for a test run.
Bored - he had expected something a little more exciting than this. Working with Windsheer - being allowed to participate rather than being shoved aside and forgotten - had obviously ruined him as an audience for these sorts of demonstrations. Sighing, the youngling tried to force himself to pay attention, just in case his creator quizzed him later.
The floor was vibrating. A whine came from the now-active machine, the pitch rising worryingly fast.
“Creator, sir.” The youngling tried, but was struck silent by the glare he received in response.
“Be silent!” The adult mech snapped at the youngling, unaware of the warning represented by that blasted noise. The youngling winced as the sound grew sharper, piercing his audios in a nearly physical sensation. His creator snarled. “If you cannot be silent then you will leave. I will not have you disrupting things as you please. I will speak to you about your behaviour later.”
The youngling fought against feelings of shame, wedging himself back against the wall and trying to build up the courage to warn them about the noise.
“Is he yours, sir?” One of the lab technicians asked with bored politeness.
“Yes.” The youngling’s creator glared at the further disruption. “My first creation. His designation is…”
Noise. Fire. Pain.
The world exploded.
/…/
The world was broken.
It was burning, and pain, and a nagging numbness that gaped open in a chill, lonesome void.
Something was gone. He was missing something, something that had always been there. He was… lost. Alone.
The wail built, ravaged by pain and fire, escaping in broken, static laden, keening cries from a ruined mouth.
“Shh. It’s all right. I’m here. You’re going to be fine.” There was light, and kindness, and healing. A chance to be not-alone. He grabbed the offered connection with everything he had left in him.
/…/
“What do we do, Tailspin?” Wild opticked, the pale blue Seeker clutched his trine leader’s arm. “What are we going to do?”
The yellow and grey skyborn sighed wearily. “Calm down, Nosedive.”
“How am I supposed to calm down?” Nosedive hissed vehemently. “This is not a situation that encourages calmness!”
“I know, but what can we do?” Tailspin looked across the small medical bay to where his other trine mate sat comforting a white and grey youngling. “The scraplet’s imprinted already.”
Nosedive whined his engine in and expression of distress.
The green and red skyborn looked up from where he held the shaking youngling, expression apologetic. Tailspin shook his head with a rueful smile.
::Don’t worry about it Windsheer.:: Tailspin transmitted. ::We’ll deal with it.::
“Deal with it?” Nosedive squawked in outrage. “Deal with it? Tailspin, in case you haven’t noticed, that youngling’s an Outsider! Imprinted or not the Science Council is not going to let us keep him. Especially not when they hear that their pet engineer managed to blow himself up!”
Tailspin shrugged, wing flaps twitching uncomfortably at the reminder of what lay under the tarps in the next room. The lab where the trine worked lay on the border of Vos and Tarn. Which was a good thing when one was thinking of making a trip back home. Unfortunately, Tarn as a whole was rather fanatically subservient to Iacon and the Senate. Tarn also hosted a large number of research labs, and thus was home to a great number of the Senate’s Science Inspectors.
One such official had arrived four megacycles ago to take over the lab under the pretence of being a Science Council approved supervisor. Tailspin had not liked the way the mech had looked at he and his trine mates, and had quickly decided to avoid contact with him if at all possible. It was easy enough. The glitching fragger did more showing off how very clever he thought he was rather than actually doing any real work. The aft had even dragged his youngling along with him, poor little spark. The twit paid little to no attention to his creation, which probably explained how a stuck up scrap heap like the Inspector had managed to produce such a cheerful, easygoing youngling. The mechlet had been mostly ignored by the scientists, even by his creator, but had free run of the base. With his habit of adopting strays, it was no wonder Windsheer had taken a shine to the youngling. Tailspin had allowed it because he liked the idea of getting one over the arrogant ground-pounder.
Still. Imprinting.
Damn.
Time to go make nice with the Outsiders. With any luck, the rest of the ground-crawlers would ignore the youngling same as the former Inspector had. Crimson optics narrowed in thought as Tailspin ran through a quick mental check-list of who owed him favours, who could be bribed, who could be threatened, then tallied it up and figured out who would be the easiest to manipulate into doing as he wanted.
“Panner.” Tailspin muttered, catching Nosedive’s attention. “We’ll have Panner report the accident. The little glitch owes us.”
“Owes us? Damn right he owes us! That fragger wouldn’t have a job if you weren’t using him as a front.” Nosedive huffed, rattling his wings in aggravation. “How he even passed his engineering courses is beyond me.”
“He probably stole someone else’s credit then too.” Tailspin shook his head. “Enough of that. I’ll go talk to Panner about… Damn. What’s the youngling’s designation again? All I can remember is that stupid nickname we gave him.”
Nosedive’s optics blinked. “You don’t remember? It’s…”
/…/
“The good news is we’ve managed to get custody of the youngling.” Tailspin said cheerfully to his trinemates as he walked into the medical bay. “Officially, the mechlet’s stay here because ‘familiar surroundings are best when dealing with emotional trauma.’ It’s a load of slag, but the Science Council flunky Panner talked to bought it. He didn’t even need to tell them who the scraplet Imprinted on. As long as it means the youngling isn’t going to get dropped off at a youngling center and become the government’s problem, they don’t really care.”
“So he’s ours now.” Nosedive folded his arms and levelled a gimlet stare at Tailspin. “Now give us the bad news.”
“It’s no trouble for us - not directly anyway, but…” Tailspin looked down at the youngling recharging in his trinemate’s lap. “The explosion did a lot of damage, especially to his face. The medic says the damage to his protoform will take a long time for his nanites to heal.”
“How bad is it?” Windsheer asked with a concerned frown. “Exactly how long are we talking here?”
“The medic managed to save his vocalizer and clear his intakes, but the damage went deep. Like I said, right down to the protoform.” Tailspin sighed, feeling helpless and hating it. “The reconstruction alone will take vorns, and the scarring will be extensive. There’s no telling if it will ever completely heal.”
“Ouch. Poor youngling.” Nosedive grimaced in sympathy. “But don’t worry, we’ll take care of you…”
/…/
“So you’re finally going off to the Science Academy then.” Windsheer grinned, proud and pleased. “Show them all up for me, will you?”
“I promise.” The no-longer youngling pledged, hand over his spark and grinning behind the facemask his Imprinter had made to hide his scars. Shifting slightly, he spoke without thinking. “You should’ve been able to go too.”
“Ah, sparklet, don’t torture yourself with might’ve beens.” Windsheer wrapped and arm around his Imprintee’s shoulders, mindful of the newly integrated back panels. They were smaller than what a full Seeker Flightless would have, but were still fully functional, and hypersensitive for only being introduced with the last upgrade. Windsheer smiled nostalgically, remembering he and his trine had squabbled over which Seeker systems to give their fledgling. “The Science Council won’t unbend enough to grant a Seeker admittance, so don’t you fret, or feel guilty about things you can’t change. I want you to have fun, and learn enough for all four of us. You get me?”
“Yeah. It’s still not fair though.” He leaned into the comforting embrace, still young enough to want the reassurance of an older spark, sounding like a sulky sparkling and not caring a whit. “But I promise to be amazing.”
“I’m sure you will be.” Windsheer smiled mistily, and tucked the mech he had raised closer against his side. “I’m going to miss you…”
/…/
The mech sighed and put away the holographic photo of three Seekers and a ground-bound youngling. Being raised by Seekers while still having no official tie to them had allowed him to witness first hand the prejudice and corruption that ran rampant through every level of the so-called Golden Age of Cybertron. Shortly after he left to attend the Science Academy, the trine that had raised him had been reassigned, but not before he had sent them a message about one of his classmates.
A Seeker named Starscream.
They only had one introductory level class together, since they were in very different fields, but it was enough to prove that Starscream was brilliant, and he wished his Imprinter’s could have been allowed the same chance. But Starscream was driven, in a way his Imprinter’s were not, and maybe that made all the difference. Still… he wished he could have introduced himself, even just once, or had the chance to be a friend who understood a bit about Seekers. Sadly if just was not meant to be.
He had graduated at the top of his class, and built up a reputation in the scientific community. He stayed in contact with his Imprinter’s, but rarely saw them due to their deployment to the far side of the planet. He met a mech just as disgusted by the corrosion and hypocrisy that made up the politics of Cybertron. They had bonded, and worked together to try and fix what was wrong with their world…
Unfortunately, he mused, they did not seem to be making much of an impression.
The front door slid open, breaking him out of his thoughts as his mate shoved two unfamiliar mechs into their apartment. He blinked in surprise after a moment of staring. There was something almost familiar about their resonance fields.
“So, uh, something going on, Ratch’?” He asked quizzically as the two warrior models looked him over with identical dark glowers.
“Shut up, Wheeljack.” Ratchet growled, and slammed the door controls to close the entrance.
(Word Count: 2491)
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For those who actually read the notes I put down here, I'm just going to say now that no, Wheeljack has no idea what the Seekers are up to. No, he is not connected to the Windbond. And no, he is not a Seeker spy. He is, however, a Seeker sympathizer.
This is for silver_bells13, who gave me a gold egg and requested more on Ratchet/Wheeljack and Lambo Twins/Bluestreak. This is the Wheeljack and Ratchet bit. Tomorrow I shall post the Bluestreak and Twins bit. Enjoy.
Also, Dirge has mysteriously dissapeared from his jar. Which is odd, since it has a lid. Which is always kept closed. Yet, somehow my betta has vanished without a trace from a covered container. It's like a locked room murder. Now if Skywarp had done this, I wouldn't be surprised, but this is Dirge. His fins were so floofy I'm surprised he managed to break the surface of the water, let alone break out of his jar.
... maybe one of my cats ate him.
Here there be dragons! I have struck gold! Whee! Also, I once again failed to get a Legendary Summon egg. Boo~
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A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: Explosions run in the family... or is it that the family runs in explosions? I dunno. It works either way I suppose.
Timeline: More fic found here.
=/=
(In which an Outsider youngling is adopted by a trine.)
“… That won’t work. See if you remove the heat sink then you lose…” The voice had strange harmonics, slipping in and out of focus in fragments of sentences interspersed with almost musical nonsense sounds. Curious, the youngling poked his head around the doorway and had to stifle a gasp.
Seekers! A full trine of Seekers!
For all that he had lived his entire life with Vos right next door, the white and grey mechlet had never seen a Seeker up close before. They were notoriously insular, and it seemed that familiarity really did breed contempt, because one was far more likely to encounter a Seeker halfway around the planet in Kaon or Polyhex than in Tarn or Iacon, even though Vos was a neighbouring city-state.
As excited as he was, it took a few megaclicks for the youngling to pay attention to what the Seekers were actually doing rather than just staring at them in fascination. Optics blinking, the youngling cocked his head to one side in confusion. It looked like the Seekers - or at least, the yellow and grey Seeker - was working on an engineering project. Frowning, the youngling watched more closely. Yes, the yellow one was working on something that looked a great deal like the matter-to-energy converter that the lab engineers had been contracted to develop. The blue Seeker was pulling up diagrams on the holographic display and arguing with the yellow one. At least, it seemed like he was arguing, even though the youngling could not make out any actually words. The Seekers were waving their arms around the same way his creator did when he was mad. The blue one seemed to be making some kind of point, because the yellow one was making some funny growling sounds.
“Well now, what have we here?” The amused voice came from right beside him, making the youngling jump and gasp in surprise. The green and red Seeker looked amused. Wide opticked the youngling glanced at the workbench where he was certain the Seeker had been just a moment before. Beakers and tubes of various chemicals and unknown substances sat undisturbed. How had he missed the Seeker moving?
“They are rather attention grabbing, aren’t they?” The Seeker laughed, and looked fondly at the other two jets, who were still arguing. “I suppose that’s what happens when you mix a theoretical physicist with a technical engineer.”
“I…” The youngling ducked his head when his vocals warbled in his nervousness. “I thought Seekers were all military models.”
“Oh, we are.” The Seeker chuckled and patted the youngling’s shoulder. “But just because we’re all made for war doesn’t mean we all specialize in it.”
“Oh.” The youngling turned that thought over and decided that it made sense. He had met an architect model who had specialized in demolitions once, so he figured that a war model could decide to do… the youngling blinked and looked up at the friendly Seeker. “So what do you do?”
“Hm, well officially I’m a security guard.” The red and green Seeker chuckled. “But if you’re asking about unofficially, I’m and experimental chemist with a specialty in combustible fuels. My designation is Windsheer, nice to meet you, youngling.”
“Really?” The youngling straightened up and grinned. The engineers and scientists his creator mingled with tended to ignore him. Even if the Seeker was not a real chemist (and how could he be, without going to the Science Academy?) Maybe Windsheer could still teach him something new and interesting. “What are you working on now? And - oh. Sorry. It’s nice to meet you too. I’m called…”
/…/
“Keep up.” His creator snapped. “I agreed to allow you access to this demonstration, but that does not mean that I am going to put up with any sparkling nonsense.”
“Yes sir.” The youngling held back his protests and followed his creator in to the room where the scientists who had helped his creator with this project were standing around their invention. Windsheer was standing on the other side of the door, but his creator had not even let him say hello! It was always like that, Windsheer and Nosedive and Tailspin were some of the smartest mechs he knew, but everyone treated them like they were stupid. It was unfair! He bet that if they had been allowed to help, the Seekers would have made the project work better and finished it faster. Too upset to pay real attention, the youngling sulked against the far wall as the scientists - his creator among them - prepared the machine for a test run.
Bored - he had expected something a little more exciting than this. Working with Windsheer - being allowed to participate rather than being shoved aside and forgotten - had obviously ruined him as an audience for these sorts of demonstrations. Sighing, the youngling tried to force himself to pay attention, just in case his creator quizzed him later.
The floor was vibrating. A whine came from the now-active machine, the pitch rising worryingly fast.
“Creator, sir.” The youngling tried, but was struck silent by the glare he received in response.
“Be silent!” The adult mech snapped at the youngling, unaware of the warning represented by that blasted noise. The youngling winced as the sound grew sharper, piercing his audios in a nearly physical sensation. His creator snarled. “If you cannot be silent then you will leave. I will not have you disrupting things as you please. I will speak to you about your behaviour later.”
The youngling fought against feelings of shame, wedging himself back against the wall and trying to build up the courage to warn them about the noise.
“Is he yours, sir?” One of the lab technicians asked with bored politeness.
“Yes.” The youngling’s creator glared at the further disruption. “My first creation. His designation is…”
Noise. Fire. Pain.
The world exploded.
/…/
The world was broken.
It was burning, and pain, and a nagging numbness that gaped open in a chill, lonesome void.
Something was gone. He was missing something, something that had always been there. He was… lost. Alone.
The wail built, ravaged by pain and fire, escaping in broken, static laden, keening cries from a ruined mouth.
“Shh. It’s all right. I’m here. You’re going to be fine.” There was light, and kindness, and healing. A chance to be not-alone. He grabbed the offered connection with everything he had left in him.
/…/
“What do we do, Tailspin?” Wild opticked, the pale blue Seeker clutched his trine leader’s arm. “What are we going to do?”
The yellow and grey skyborn sighed wearily. “Calm down, Nosedive.”
“How am I supposed to calm down?” Nosedive hissed vehemently. “This is not a situation that encourages calmness!”
“I know, but what can we do?” Tailspin looked across the small medical bay to where his other trine mate sat comforting a white and grey youngling. “The scraplet’s imprinted already.”
Nosedive whined his engine in and expression of distress.
The green and red skyborn looked up from where he held the shaking youngling, expression apologetic. Tailspin shook his head with a rueful smile.
::Don’t worry about it Windsheer.:: Tailspin transmitted. ::We’ll deal with it.::
“Deal with it?” Nosedive squawked in outrage. “Deal with it? Tailspin, in case you haven’t noticed, that youngling’s an Outsider! Imprinted or not the Science Council is not going to let us keep him. Especially not when they hear that their pet engineer managed to blow himself up!”
Tailspin shrugged, wing flaps twitching uncomfortably at the reminder of what lay under the tarps in the next room. The lab where the trine worked lay on the border of Vos and Tarn. Which was a good thing when one was thinking of making a trip back home. Unfortunately, Tarn as a whole was rather fanatically subservient to Iacon and the Senate. Tarn also hosted a large number of research labs, and thus was home to a great number of the Senate’s Science Inspectors.
One such official had arrived four megacycles ago to take over the lab under the pretence of being a Science Council approved supervisor. Tailspin had not liked the way the mech had looked at he and his trine mates, and had quickly decided to avoid contact with him if at all possible. It was easy enough. The glitching fragger did more showing off how very clever he thought he was rather than actually doing any real work. The aft had even dragged his youngling along with him, poor little spark. The twit paid little to no attention to his creation, which probably explained how a stuck up scrap heap like the Inspector had managed to produce such a cheerful, easygoing youngling. The mechlet had been mostly ignored by the scientists, even by his creator, but had free run of the base. With his habit of adopting strays, it was no wonder Windsheer had taken a shine to the youngling. Tailspin had allowed it because he liked the idea of getting one over the arrogant ground-pounder.
Still. Imprinting.
Damn.
Time to go make nice with the Outsiders. With any luck, the rest of the ground-crawlers would ignore the youngling same as the former Inspector had. Crimson optics narrowed in thought as Tailspin ran through a quick mental check-list of who owed him favours, who could be bribed, who could be threatened, then tallied it up and figured out who would be the easiest to manipulate into doing as he wanted.
“Panner.” Tailspin muttered, catching Nosedive’s attention. “We’ll have Panner report the accident. The little glitch owes us.”
“Owes us? Damn right he owes us! That fragger wouldn’t have a job if you weren’t using him as a front.” Nosedive huffed, rattling his wings in aggravation. “How he even passed his engineering courses is beyond me.”
“He probably stole someone else’s credit then too.” Tailspin shook his head. “Enough of that. I’ll go talk to Panner about… Damn. What’s the youngling’s designation again? All I can remember is that stupid nickname we gave him.”
Nosedive’s optics blinked. “You don’t remember? It’s…”
/…/
“The good news is we’ve managed to get custody of the youngling.” Tailspin said cheerfully to his trinemates as he walked into the medical bay. “Officially, the mechlet’s stay here because ‘familiar surroundings are best when dealing with emotional trauma.’ It’s a load of slag, but the Science Council flunky Panner talked to bought it. He didn’t even need to tell them who the scraplet Imprinted on. As long as it means the youngling isn’t going to get dropped off at a youngling center and become the government’s problem, they don’t really care.”
“So he’s ours now.” Nosedive folded his arms and levelled a gimlet stare at Tailspin. “Now give us the bad news.”
“It’s no trouble for us - not directly anyway, but…” Tailspin looked down at the youngling recharging in his trinemate’s lap. “The explosion did a lot of damage, especially to his face. The medic says the damage to his protoform will take a long time for his nanites to heal.”
“How bad is it?” Windsheer asked with a concerned frown. “Exactly how long are we talking here?”
“The medic managed to save his vocalizer and clear his intakes, but the damage went deep. Like I said, right down to the protoform.” Tailspin sighed, feeling helpless and hating it. “The reconstruction alone will take vorns, and the scarring will be extensive. There’s no telling if it will ever completely heal.”
“Ouch. Poor youngling.” Nosedive grimaced in sympathy. “But don’t worry, we’ll take care of you…”
/…/
“So you’re finally going off to the Science Academy then.” Windsheer grinned, proud and pleased. “Show them all up for me, will you?”
“I promise.” The no-longer youngling pledged, hand over his spark and grinning behind the facemask his Imprinter had made to hide his scars. Shifting slightly, he spoke without thinking. “You should’ve been able to go too.”
“Ah, sparklet, don’t torture yourself with might’ve beens.” Windsheer wrapped and arm around his Imprintee’s shoulders, mindful of the newly integrated back panels. They were smaller than what a full Seeker Flightless would have, but were still fully functional, and hypersensitive for only being introduced with the last upgrade. Windsheer smiled nostalgically, remembering he and his trine had squabbled over which Seeker systems to give their fledgling. “The Science Council won’t unbend enough to grant a Seeker admittance, so don’t you fret, or feel guilty about things you can’t change. I want you to have fun, and learn enough for all four of us. You get me?”
“Yeah. It’s still not fair though.” He leaned into the comforting embrace, still young enough to want the reassurance of an older spark, sounding like a sulky sparkling and not caring a whit. “But I promise to be amazing.”
“I’m sure you will be.” Windsheer smiled mistily, and tucked the mech he had raised closer against his side. “I’m going to miss you…”
/…/
The mech sighed and put away the holographic photo of three Seekers and a ground-bound youngling. Being raised by Seekers while still having no official tie to them had allowed him to witness first hand the prejudice and corruption that ran rampant through every level of the so-called Golden Age of Cybertron. Shortly after he left to attend the Science Academy, the trine that had raised him had been reassigned, but not before he had sent them a message about one of his classmates.
A Seeker named Starscream.
They only had one introductory level class together, since they were in very different fields, but it was enough to prove that Starscream was brilliant, and he wished his Imprinter’s could have been allowed the same chance. But Starscream was driven, in a way his Imprinter’s were not, and maybe that made all the difference. Still… he wished he could have introduced himself, even just once, or had the chance to be a friend who understood a bit about Seekers. Sadly if just was not meant to be.
He had graduated at the top of his class, and built up a reputation in the scientific community. He stayed in contact with his Imprinter’s, but rarely saw them due to their deployment to the far side of the planet. He met a mech just as disgusted by the corrosion and hypocrisy that made up the politics of Cybertron. They had bonded, and worked together to try and fix what was wrong with their world…
Unfortunately, he mused, they did not seem to be making much of an impression.
The front door slid open, breaking him out of his thoughts as his mate shoved two unfamiliar mechs into their apartment. He blinked in surprise after a moment of staring. There was something almost familiar about their resonance fields.
“So, uh, something going on, Ratch’?” He asked quizzically as the two warrior models looked him over with identical dark glowers.
“Shut up, Wheeljack.” Ratchet growled, and slammed the door controls to close the entrance.
(Word Count: 2491)
=/=
For those who actually read the notes I put down here, I'm just going to say now that no, Wheeljack has no idea what the Seekers are up to. No, he is not connected to the Windbond. And no, he is not a Seeker spy. He is, however, a Seeker sympathizer.
This is for silver_bells13, who gave me a gold egg and requested more on Ratchet/Wheeljack and Lambo Twins/Bluestreak. This is the Wheeljack and Ratchet bit. Tomorrow I shall post the Bluestreak and Twins bit. Enjoy.
Also, Dirge has mysteriously dissapeared from his jar. Which is odd, since it has a lid. Which is always kept closed. Yet, somehow my betta has vanished without a trace from a covered container. It's like a locked room murder. Now if Skywarp had done this, I wouldn't be surprised, but this is Dirge. His fins were so floofy I'm surprised he managed to break the surface of the water, let alone break out of his jar.
... maybe one of my cats ate him.
Here there be dragons! I have struck gold! Whee! Also, I once again failed to get a Legendary Summon egg. Boo~
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