Hello, everyone! How are you doing today?
So after I read KanonKita's Midnight Run, I was inspired to try a story that was similar to hers. I wrote this chapter as my first foray into writing, to see how well I could do. It is my sincerest hope that you enjoy it, and I owe a lot of gratitude to KanonKita for making this possible. You are very much appreciated!
Without further ado, please enjoy this story, and let me know how I can do better!
Ratchet placed his hands on Hunter's shoulders. "Kid, are you sure you're ok?"
Ratchet noticed that Hunter kept taking deep breaths every so often. Foolish kid. He doesn't seem to realized that meeting one's sire should not be akin to marching toward one's death, yet Hunter doesn't seem to believe that there was anything wrong with that.
Hunter turned away from the house, facing Ratchet. He smiled at him, though Ratchet thought he detected a hint of apprehension in Hunter's features. "I'm fine, thank you, sir." He nodded at Ratchet. "I guess" -his smile faded somewhat- "I guess I'm just really nervous about meeting my dad. It's been like two years since I last saw him, I think." Hunter took a quick glance at the house before he looked towards to Ratchet. "Um, sir?"
Ratchet raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"
"What if… what if I mess this up, sir? I mean, I don't want it to be a repeat of what happened last time. I really want this to go well."
Ratchet supposed that, in any other situation, the best course of action would be to assuage Hunter's fears. After all, the boy was just trying hard to impress his father, and it would had been something that Ratchet was more certain would work. However, given what he had known about Hunter's father, Ratchet knew there was no way in the Pits that it was going to work, so telling Hunter he was going to do fine would be giving him false hope. He was not going to do that.
"Look, kid," said Ratchet, "no matter what happens between you and your sire, it won't be the end of the world." His face turned stern. "Just remember that, alright?"
Hunter pursed his lips, looking as though he was he thought about what Ratchet said. Fraggit. He knew what he said was underwhelming, but he was a medic, not a therapist!
"Thank you, sir. I think I feel a little better." Hunter was now grinning again, his cheerful spirit now reinvigorated. Hunter spun on his feet and began walking across the streets. Ratchet followed him, making sure that the kid wasn't running too far ahead of him.
Ratchet was no expert on houses (after all, he had better things to do than obsess over how sleek and glorious a living space looked), but he admitted that the house looked clean, most likely because of its pristine white walls. The front porch was enriched with various plants that he heard humans called flowers, along with what appeared to be green plants growing on the other part of the lawn. Someone must had been trying to keep this house looking good, though Ratchet couldn't care less. They could put an unholy amalgamation of every plants they found right at the front of the house, but Ratchet was not going to stop and stare at it, slack-jawed and enthralled at the sight of some greenery.
Ratchet and Hunter reached the front door. "You know, sir, you really didn't have to do any of this. Knockout was already going to take me."
Ratchet scowled at that. Ah, Knockout. Yes, he really did had his spark set out on all this. After he admitted that he had been using Hunter as part of his little vanity project, he swore to try to become a better mech. While this trip could had been an excellent way to mend things between Hunter and Knockout, what does Knockout know about how to handle victims of an abusive relationship? Not too long ago, the fragger just admitted he didn't care for Hunter! Yes, Ratchet knew he should give Knockout another chance, but even so, he didn't believed that Knockout would knew how to best handle this issue.
"It's like I said before, Knockout needed to learn a little thing called responsibility. He had been spending a little too much time going out to racing events or whatever the slag he does now," said Ratchet.
Hunter reached forward and rang the doorbell, giggling as he did so. "I understand. It's just that Knockout was really upset when you told him you would be taking me, instead. Did you hear what he said when we left?" Hunter looked at Ratchet. "I thought I heard him calling you a 'killjoy' and" -he cringed somewhat- "some… other things." Hunter looked a little crestfallen. "I kinda felt sorry for him."
Ratchet scoffed at that. "Oh, yes, pity poor Knockout, the mech who was always given all the time in a solar-cycle to perform a body wax on himself, while I spent every clicks trying to locate the rest of the Cons. My spark just bleeds for him."
Hunter opened his mouth, about to say something in response, when the two heard the sound of the door unlocking. When the door swung open, Ratchet spotted a man clad in blue t-shirt and a black cargo short.
Must be Hunter's sire, Ratchet thought as he took in his features. Minus his tall, imposing height and his heavier body, the man bore some similarities to his son. He had the same blue optics and thin lips, but his face seemed to be more sharper and severe than Hunter's, creating an unwelcoming vibe around him.
"Can I help you?" the man said.
Ratchet observed Hunter, making sure he was doing fine. He noticed that there was sweats breaking out on his forehead. Disgusting. "Um, D-dad?" said Hunter. "Um, are you Finch Faulkner?"
Confusion swept over the man's face. "Yes, that is my name. Who are you? Have we met before?"
Hunter took another deep breath before he continued. "Don't you recognize me? I'm your son, Hunter Faulkner?"
Finch peered at Hunter's face. How did a sire not know how their offsprings looked? One could make the justification that the two did not see each other for some times, but Ratchet did believed that a sire would had no problems recognizing their creations if they had grown attached well enough. He wasn't sure how they managed that, but it would seemed there was a sort of magical bond between sire and creation, one that would allowed the two to recognize each other, no matter what.
Finch's eyebrows rose, and his optics widen after he gazed at Hunter for a short while. "Oh, Hunter!" He was now beaming. "Is that really you?" Hunter nodded at that. "I never seen you for a long time! What are you doing here?"
"Well, I've been looking for you some time. Dad."
"Looking for me? Why's that?" Perhaps it was Ratchet's imagination, but he was sure he thought he saw Finch's smile faltering a little.
"Well, I really like to be with you again, Dad. And I really wanted to make up for… you know what." Hunter now looked more ashamed of himself, though it didn't seem as though the damn fragger had noticed; he was still acting as joyful as before.
"Ah, well," Finch gave a dismissive wave, "it's all in the past, now, you hear?" His optics moved over from Hunter to Ratchet. "And who is this? Is he a friend of yours, Hunter? Who are you?"
Ratchet crossed his arms. "Ratchet. My name is Ratchet. And I am Hunter's co-worker." In Ratchet's mind, it was true. It was going to take a long time before he could ever consider anybody else as a friend. For now, he and Hunter were simply supervisor and subordinate, though for the purpose of coming off as less suspicious, the two will be co-workers for this trip only.
Finch looked pleased at that. "In any case, I am glad to see that Hunter was able to find someone else who would accept him. I admit, I wasn't so sure about that." Finch started laughing.
Ratchet glared at Finch, though the latter didn't notice. Soon after, Finch calmed down. "Anyway, enough standing around here. Why don't you come come inside? I'm looking forward to talking to you two." Finch stepped aside from the doorway and beckoned the two in. Hunter obeyed, with Ratchet reluctantly following suit soon after.
Stepping into the entrance, the pair heard Finch closing the door. "I ask you that you take your shoes off. After all, I don't this house to be dirtied up," said Finch.
Hunter acknowledged him, removing his shoes and placing them near the door, but Ratchet stood still.
Slag, this was a problem. He can't take his shoes off in front of him. If any pieces of clothings were removed from the holoform's body, it would disintegrate into a cloud of sparks and electricity, and Ratchet would much rather avoid trying to explain this little phenomenon to Finch.
Thankfully, it appeared that Hunter knew th beforehand. "You know, Dad, it takes a little while for Ratchet here to do that. He is a little old, after all." Ratchet rolled his optics at that. Thank you, Hunter, for making him come off as helpless. He might be a little old, but he was as sharp as ever, damnit!
Finch looked at his son, his brows narrowing. "Hunter, he is a stranger in my house. I don't like to leave him alone."
"Don't worry, Dad. I've known him for a while. You can trust him," Hunter said, his voice becoming more soothing.
Finch scrutinized Ratchet for a while, before he then said, "Alright. Just don't take too long. You're find us in the living room."
Ratchet dipped his head as sire and creation turned and walked down the hallway.
When they turned the corner, Ratchet removed his shoes. As soon as they came off, the objects fizzled out in a storm of electricity. Note to self: he was going to had to work on having a holoform's objects maintain permanence when they were removed from the body.
Once the shoes were gone, Ratchet stepped down where they headed through, making sure to follow the duo's voices.
He arrived at what he presumed to be the living room Finch mentioned. And Ratchet would had to admit, begrudgingly, that it could a lot more worse. Back at the base, some of the other humans and the Autobots would leave junk lying around on the floor; Ratchet was lucky he didn't have an accident involving tripping on one of them, or worse.
Here, however, everything was in place. There were no garbages lying on the floor, all the books seemed to be in order on the shelf, and the numerous paintings that were in the room were perfectly straightened.
"That was more faster than I expected."
Ratchet turned his head towards the source of the voice. Finch was sitting on a sofa, with Hunter seated on chair across him. "Please. Why don't you have a seat?" Finch motioned to another chair that was next to Hunter's.
After Ratchet took his place, Finch continued on, "So, as I was saying, how are you doing, Hunter? It's been a very long time."
"I've been doing better now, Dad. Just now, I got a job working at the hospital with Ratchet, and I think I've been doing great!" Hunter looked as though he could not contain his excitement, acting as though he had found a cure to a major disease.
Finch nodded at that. "Very good, I'm glad to hear that. You do look as though you're doing much better. Certainly an improvement on how you been last time."
Hunter bit his lips. "Yes, I, um… so, what have you been doing?"
Finch looked more pleased now that Hunter had bought it up. "I have been very well, thank you for asking. Just recently, the Chinati Foundation just accepted one of my arts, so I've been making great strides in the art world! I'm not surprised by that, after all. I've always had a talent for painting."
"Really? That's great, Dad! That's really awesome!" Hunter began to applaud. "Come on, Ratchet! This is a really great accomplishment for him!"
If he was allowed to sign, he would have done so now. However, for the sake of maintaining politeness towards Finch, he repressed it and clapped his servos together. There was a good chance that Finch could throw Ratchet out of the house if he acts rude towards him, and if that happens, then there would be no one to look after Hunter. The kid can't be left alone with Finch.
"Thank you, thank you. No, please, I was doing what I do best, after all," said Finch, though that didn't stop him from looking too flattered from the praise he was receiving.
"I think this calls for a little celebration, you think?" said Hunter. "I think this is the best time to show off what I learned when it comes to cooking! Dad, is it ok if I make something for all three of us?"
Finch raised his eyebrows at that. "Are you sure about that, Hunter? I won't mind it myself, but you are cooking for another guest here, after all. You don't want to disappoint him."
Ratchet wanted to interrupt, saying he was not interested in eating dinner, but Hunter cutted him off, "Well, I did learn a lot more about cooking recently. Maybe I will get it right this time?" Hunter sounded more unsure of himself.
If Ratchet had even a sliver of interest in organic foods, maybe he would be interested in trying whatever Hunter concocted now. But right now, he was still trying to get over being baffled with the fact that his teammates were all fine with putting disgusting sludges right into their body. They did talk about how good Hunter's foods tasted, but that's not enough to convince.
Hunter had recomposed himself. "Anyway, I'm going to head into the kitchen now to see what I can come up with, so why don't you two talk with each other? I promise I will try to make it quick." With that said, he left the living room.
Ratchet surveyed Finch, uncertain of what to talk about with the mech. As far as he knew, they didn't share any common interests or hobbies, nor any similarities in personality.
"So how did you know him?"
Ratchet was uncertain was uncertain as to whatever to thank Primus for that question. On one hand, the uncomfortable silence was broken. On the other, it meant that he was talking to the mech again, and he wasn't sure if he would like to do that, as any of their conversation could steer into unpleasant territory.
"I've been working at the hospital for a long time when Hunter applied for the job. I offered to take him on as my student and teach him what I know."
"And how has he been?"
"He... could be worse. I admit that him being quiet was a nice change of pace compared to what I had to work with before."
"He gets that from me, you know? I always acted respectful to other people, and I made sure to show that to him. It's really no surprise he's like that when you think about it."
Ratchet stared at him. "Yes."
Finch quirked his lips, looking at Ratchet with a stoic, calculating look. "So how did the two of get here? I am still trying to figure that out."
"Hunter did some research on where you been. Apparently, he found a news article talking about how that museum wished to take your painting in."
"And you got here how?"
"Driving."
Finch nodded at that. "And I trust that the trip wasn't much trouble? I do understand how… troublesome Hunter can be."
Ratchet clenched his jaws at that, remembering how put-off Hunter was when the two arrived here. "It wasn't," he said curtly.
It was then that the smell of foods started to waft through the air. Ratchet was not able to identify any of the particular scent, but it seemed that Finch had no issues with doing so himself. He was deeply inhaling the air, savoring each and every one of them. "Mmm, I think I smell pepper in there. And is that scallion greens he's using?"
"From what I heard from the others, he isn't bad at it. Whenever he made something, a few from the team would try it out, and they always seemed to like it."
"As well as they should. I really showed him good."
"I was of the impression that Hunter did this all on his own. What made you say that?"
"Well, I was the one who introduced Hunter to culinary arts." Finch looked off to the distance, reminiscing. " I remember. I bought the whole family out to dinner to one of those fancy, high-class restaurant for a delightful meal. Hunter was there, and, oh, you should picture the look on his face when he tried out every cuisines they bought out! He told me that he wants to make a food as good as that someday, and I said he should." Finch chuckled at that. "I admit, I think it was a good move on my part. Chefs get a lot more respect, don't you think? I don't think people would think so kindly of him if he took another job. He once told me he wanted to be a rollerskating champion!" A slight grimince passed over his face. "Can you imagine how embarrassing it would have been? Thank god I steered him on the right path!"
"So?" Ratchet was now fighting to keep his tone leveled. Finch did not have the right to do that to his creation like that. "Why should that matter? He should be allowed to do what's best for himself."
Finch looked somewhat annoyed, breaking the stoic attitude from before. "Yes, but the thing you should know about Hunter is that he doesn't make the best choices. If you let him decide for himself and others, I don't think it's going to work out well."
"If you been with your creation for the past few deca-cycles, you would have seen that you are wrong," Ratchet snarled.
The air in the room suddenly turned cold. The two simply glared at one another, not saying another word. Finch's face had turned stony and impassive, his optics more steely and colder than they had been before.
Footsteps sounded in the room, signaling Hunter's arrival. "Dinner's ready!"
Finch nodded. He got up, turned, and left the room, his face still remaining mask-like. Hunter seemed to have taken notice, as he looked more worried after his father passed by him.
"What did you say to him?" Hunter asked when Finch left.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," said Ratchet. He sounded cold; he didn't care. Whatever gave that fragger the right to say slag heaps about his creation like that?
"Sir, please. This means a lot to me. Can you please act polite a little longer?"
Ratchet turned to Hunter, noting the desperation etched into his face. He placed his servos on his shoulders. "It's as I said before. No matter what happens, it's not the end of the world." He looked off to the side, thinking of what else to say to him. "I…" he sighed. He was not good at this kind of drama. "I will be there for you. I want you to know that."
Hunter looked down on the ground, looking as though he was considering what he just said. "Ok." He took a deep breath, then looked up to Ratchet. "Alright. Let's go eat now."
The two walked down the hallway together, eventually finding themselves at the dining rooms. Finch was already there, setting the plates full of food down at the circular table.
When he placed the third and last plate on the table, he looked up to the doorway where Ratchet and Hunter were standing and said, "Eat." His voice was lacking in the cheerfulness he had shown earlier. Now it was more flat and icy.
Ratchet and Hunter took their seats at the table, allowing the former to better examine what Hunter had made. As far as he could tell, it was just some meats slapped together with oily substance poured over and tiny chunks of organic… something sprinkled all over it.
"Herb-and-mustard sirloin with baked potatoes." Ratchet turned to Hunter. "It's what this food is. I hope you like it."
Finch was already digging into his food, still remaining silent throughout. "So, uh, let's eat," said Hunter. He grabbed his utensils and started cutting up the meat, Ratchet now doing the same.
He was no expert at this, but he seen the humans at the base eating enough to the point that he knew what he should do. That didn't make any of this less disgusting, though, putting slop right into his mouth and swallowing it.
Though, he admitted deep down that it wasn't really that bad. He did identify some of the taste in the food being no different than what he tasted in energon before, it seeming to have a combination of… spicy? Sweet?
It's not enough to dispel Ratchet's questions of why Autobots like Bumblebee and Bulkhead were so inclined on consuming human foods. It took much, much, work trying to get the holoform's ability to digest foods to work, and it was effort that could have been better spent on something else. He did it only just to quiet them down a bit. And even when they first started raving about how great all human foods tasted, he still failed to see the appeal in it, even right here, right now.
Finch pushed his empty plate away from now, with Hunter following suit soon after, despite the fact there was still pieces of meat left on the plate.
"So… did you enjoy it?" Hunter looked like he was grinding his teeth together.
"Yes," said Finch.
Hunter looked hurt at how quiet his sire was being. "Did you enjoy our time together today?
Finch glanced at Ratchet. "It could have gone better, that's for sure."
Hunter closed his optics, breathing in more deeply. "Dad…" He opened his optics. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about."
"About what?
"I want to talk to you about what happened on Christmas."
Ah. Here we go. Hunter said that he always wanted to explain to his father about his side of the story for that event. He always wanted that. But with a mech like Finch, that was asking for trouble. Ratchet set aside his plate, prepared to intervene when necessary.
Finch looked at Hunter, his jaw set, optics unblinking. "What do you wish to talk about that, Hunter?"
"Well, I-" Hunter was fidgeting with his servos, struggling to find the words to answer his creator. "I wanted to explain why I acted that way on Christmas. I just wanted to clear the air up, that's all!"
"What's there to explain?" Finch said. His face was still the same unchanging mask it was before, but now, it seemed that anger was seeping into his voice. "I gave you a present, and you didn't bothered to open it up in front of me. Just ran off with it, instead. How did you think I felt about that, hmm?
"I was sorry!" Hunter's was now fighting to keep his voice from quivering now. "It's just that I felt embarrassed about opening up my presents in front of you!"
"You felt embarrassed." Finch shook his head. "Wow. Just wow. Imagine that. Imagine how I now feel hearing that my son is embarrassed to even be with me."
"No, no, it's not that! Everytime I opened a gift in front of you, you always told me about how wrong they were! When you got me roller skates, you told me about how roller skating was a ridiculous hobby, and I should just give it up!"
"I was not mocking you, I was just giving you advice. And you know what, Hunter? So what if you felt embarrassed about the whole thing? Even if you felt upset about this, you still should have done it because you love. If you weren't willing to swallow it and keep going, you must not have love me enough."
Ratchet noticed that Hunter was now trembling. This has gone on long enough, now.
"You don't get to decide that."
Hunter and Finch turned towards Ratchet. "Excuse me?" said Finch.
"You don't get to decide how much your creation was feeling towards you at that moment."
"Action speaks louder than words. I believe that he didn't show enough evidence that he cared, so he doesn't." The cool, dark tone Finch had before was now slipping, gradually becoming more and more angrier.
"And you think you can base that on one arbitrary evidence? Something as small and stupid as that?" Ratchet was now standing up from his chair, staring down Finch. "The kid didn't commit murder here. He was embarrassed, and you act like that was the worst thing anybody could ever done."
"And you think you know my son better than I do? Hunter was nothing more than a spoiled, ungraceful brat. This was just the latest thing he did."
White-hot fury was now rising up in Ratchet. "Clearly," he was no longer bothering to hide the contempt in his voice, "you know nothing about your offspring. I've known your creation for a while now, and what you said now could not be any farther from the truth. But of course. You were the glitch who chose to abandoned him because of one infraction!"
"Ratchet, please," Hunter moaned, but it was no use.
"What did you call me?" Finch rose up from his chair and walked over to Ratchet, now towering over him. "You think I am a 'glitch' because I 'abandoned' Hunter?" He scoffed. "I can see there was some things he didn't bother telling you. Did Hunter ever told you he was a bully?"
Surprised gripped Ratchet. Hunter, a bully? He couldn't had imagined a more unlikely scenario and thought Finch was lying before he heard Hunter's reaction.
"Dad!" He looked horrified at what Finch just said.
"Yes, that's right. When he was in middle school, he was bullying all the other students into doing schoolworks for him. The reason why we found out about it was because one of the students came forward and told us all about it."
"Dad, stop it!" Hunter looked ready to pass out on the spot.
"And now you're telling me I should keep Hunter around? Do you have any idea what that will do to me!?" He looked aghast at the possibility. "That will tank my reputation! People are going to think I raised a menace to society! And I should put up all of that just for him!?"
Hunter took a shuddering breath at that. "I mean, I admit, he wasn't so bad at first. But he just got worse over the years! I mean, last I heard from you, Hunter, was that you spent most of your time loafing around the house, doing nothing! All the kids around were going on to have successful futures while you sat around. Hell, one of the kids you bullied is now attending Harvard! I just…" he placed a hand on his forehead. "I don't know what's wrong with you."
Something broke inside Ratchet. Looking back on it, he still had no idea what it was, but whatever it was, it caused Ratchet to lose what few restraint he had left. He punched Finch across the face, sending him crumpling across the floor.
"We're done here," said Ratchet, showing no remorse for what just transpired as Finch laid, groaning. Ratchet grabbed Hunter and began to lead him out. "Come on, let's go."
They quickly stepped outside, the sun now setting on the horizon. When they got out, Hunter was shuddering violently, and his optics were tightly shut.
"Kid…" Ratchet began to talk more softly, a rarity for him, "it's ok."
Ratchet didn't even have time to register the fact that Hunter hugged him now, clinging to him tightly, before he heard him.
He heard him quietly crying as he buried himself in Ratchet's shoulder, as though he wished to blot out the entire world.
He didn't know what to do, as this never happened to him before, so he stood there, allowing Hunter as much time as needed.
"It's ok, Hunter," -he himself was surprised he was calling Hunter by his name- "I'm here for you."
