Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within, nor am I making any money off of this story. All I own are the twisted ideas floating around in my head.
Summary: The birth of a friendship between Drift and Perceptor an understanding as very different mechs begin to come to terms with the fact that some truths are universal.
It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence. -Gandhi
Perceptor knelt wedged amongst the twisted and melted remains of what had once been a rooftop terrace. There wasn't much left of the blasted shell of a building but Perceptor was somewhat thankful for the previous owner's vanity. It presented the perfect sniper's nest with its cover and closeness to the ledge overlooking the rubble strewn streets below.
Drift was just beginning the last half of his patrol and things were looking blessedly quiet. Technically, Perceptor didn't need to be there but as of late, he'd tried to accompany Drift on his patrols so as to keep a watchful optic on the swordsmech.
"Looks quiet." Drift's voice filled Perceptor's comm-link and the former scientist found himself nodding unconsciously.
"I do not see anything from here either."
"Good." That simple response was a little surprising.
"You don't chafe for action like the others?"
"Any day I don't have to draw my swords is a good day." There was such bleakness to Drift's tone that it had Perceptor's fingers tightening around the stock of his rifle.
"Drift…"
"Wait, I think I just saw movement. About a quarter click to the northeast of my location." The subtle shift in Drift's demeanor as he slipped into professional mode was unmistakable even to Perceptor's optics as he studied his partner through the scope.
"On it." Swinging the barrel a few degrees north, Perceptor sought out the movement Drift had reported but he couldn't pick out any moving shadows in the darkened streets ahead. A meticulous mech by nature, he studied every nook and crevice but there was no sign of movement. "I don't see anything."
"Maybe I was jumping at shadows…" The doubt in Drift's voice betrayed his skepticism.
That was when the Swarm attacked.
They boiled out of the alleyways flanking Drift like the unceasing plague they were. There was no tactical logic to their attack because the sub-sentient mass was driven only by primal urges and instincts to devour and overrun.
With the deadly grace of a dancer, Drift moved amongst the masses slashing and carving his way through the Swarm. What never ceased to unnerve Perceptor was the silence surrounding Drift whenever he went on the attack.
Perhaps he was just used to the raucous shouts and cries of the Wreckers but silence was just downright creepy. There were the chittering and wordless sounds from the Swarm's malformed vocal processors but the swordsmech was eerily silent as his still open comms picked up the dying squeals of the Swarm he dispatched.
Unfortunately for Perceptor, the mech was weaving around too quickly for him to get a clear shot. It was maddening, seeing Drift surrounded by those animals and knowing he'd just do more harm than good if he were to let off a shot. If Drift went down in that press, they'd tear him to pieces before Perceptor was able to climb down from his perch.
"Drift, look out!" Perceptor warned needlessly as a particularly large brute leapt over the press of bodies and lunged at Drift's back. In a slick movement, the short sword was reversed and was shoved backwards under Drift's arm at a forty-five angle to catch the mech right in the chest. It gave a spasmodic twitch as the sword slid through its torso and spark-chamber.
Withdrawing the sword, Drift flicked the coolant splatter off the blade before turning it on the next hapless mech. Perhaps it was his imagination but Perceptor could have sworn he caught the briefest of glances shot up his way and the barest trace of a smile. But then it was gone and another member of the Swarm was hitting the body strewn ground.
As quickly as they'd come, it seemed the flow of Swarm stopped and Drift was knee-deep in dead and dying mechs. Disgust and a grim sort of resolve overcame the swordsmech's faceplates as he studied ring of bodies surrounding him. Without a word he knelt to finish the job. Sparks were extinguished with clinical detachment. Monstrosities though they may be, they deserved a clean death. No creature deserved to bleed out into some dirty street.
Perceptor watched silently from his post as the enigmatic mech dispatched the last of the fallen Swarm. A sick feeling settled in his tanks as he watched Drift but it was only because he was watching that Perceptor saw the subtle shift of movement amongst the bodies that warned him not all the Swarm were neutralized.
It was amazing how easily one could take a life. Just a small squeeze of the trigger and with a percussive bang, the head of the mech who'd been about to pounce on Drift was gone and only a splattering of fluids against the wall testified to its existence.
"I saw him, but thanks," Drift said, words clipped and terse. This time, when he looked up, Perceptor was sure he was looking at him with a very small smile of thanks.
"Do you have optics in the back of your helm now?" Perceptor knew his tone was sharp but he was skating the fine line of hysterics every time he thought overly much about how easy it had been to just fire and take another mech's life.
"Not quite," was the maddening and enigmatic reply. Drift was back on his feet and wiping the coolant and various fluids off his blades with the ease and efficiency of a mech who'd done this sort of thing countless times. "I think we're clear, shall we continue the circuit?"
Climbing down from his perch, Perceptor carefully picked his way through the rubble until he'd joined Drift on the street.
"You know, I heard Jazz use a particularly interesting turn of phrase. 'Bringing a knife to a gunfight', I believe he said," Perceptor pointed out with a significant look towards the swords in the scabbard at Drift's hips. "Or in your case, a sword to a gunfight,"
"Technically, it's not a gunfight if they don't have guns," the cheeky mech corrected with a grin, much to Perceptor's chagrin. "Besides, I've got you at my back when it comes to the guns department," he said it with such an endearingly cheerful expression that it left Perceptor briefly at a loss for words.
"I like running patrols with you, Perceptor. Makes me feel safer knowing there's a mech watching my back."
"Uh…," was his oh so intelligible response. No mech had ever said such a preposterous thing to him of all mechs.
"Come on, I bet if we time it right we could be back at base when the scouting party comes back in from their energon foraging. Maybe we'll get lucky and get a cube." Seemingly oblivious to the tongue-tied state of his backup, Drift set off down the street, leaving a mute Perceptor to follow.
"Why did you do it?" Drift asked out of the blue. They had been lucky in that Springer and the others had found a modest cache of energon stored in some long-dead rich Cybertronian's vault amongst the ruins they'd scouted today.
For the first time in deca-cycles, they each had a whole cube high-grade to themselves. The rec room was boisterous with mechs holding an impromptu celebration to their good luck. They had found a table in the corner to savor their energon but that calm interlude was burst like a bubble with Drift's sudden question.
"Do what?" Perceptor hedged, playing stupid. Unfortunately for him, Drift was not so easily dissuaded.
"Your optics and the modifications...why?" The icy look Perceptor gave him had a chill washing over the hapless mech.
"Why, do you think I've 'defiled' myself as well?" Perceptor asked coolly.
"No, I just don't understand why a mech like you would want to voluntarily step up their part in this war. I was under the impression you were a pacifist."
"There is no room for pacifists in this war. Do you know what happens to pacifists in war, Drift? They get slaughtered and I have no intention of dying quite yet. " He expected the same horrified expression Blaster had worn on his faceplates when he uttered those painful words. Instead, a solemn sort of understanding showed in Drift's optics. That understanding was worse in many ways.
"I get it," Drift said softly before taking a measured sip from his cube. "Like you said, we're a race built for adaptability. And I understand reinventing yourself," the swordsmech murmured quietly, that terrible understanding still in his optics.
Unable to take that sympathetic look, Perceptor looked away and toyed with his energon cube uncomfortably.
"The thing about change and reinventing yourself is sometimes it's not for the best," Drift continued somberly.
"So you're saying I'm going to regret this? Is it going to turn me into some kind of monster?" Perceptor tried to keep his voice light and unconcerned and had the niggling doubt that he was convincing Drift with his forced nonchalance.
"No, I'm just worried one day you're going to look up and not recognize yourself anymore. It's hard to look at what you've become and the things you've done only to realize how far from your original purpose you've strayed."
The words fell like stones onto Perceptor and he realized belatedly that the tensor cables in his shoulders had tightened to hard enough to fray. Sensing he was pushing the other mech too hard, Drift smiled weakly and fidgeted with his cube restlessly.
"Sorry. Don't want to get preachy."
"It's fine. I appreciate the concern," Perceptor said weakly. Still disconcerted, the former scientist finished off his energon in one gulp. "But I should be going; I promised Springer I would go over the Trion's shield arrays."
Drift could tell when a mech desperately wanted out of the conversation and made no move to stop Perceptor's retreat. "Sounds like fun," he teased with a grin.
"It certainly gives me something productive to do with my time." Feeling a little more assured, Perceptor climbed to his feet
"Hey, uh, Perceptor? Do you want to do this again sometime?"
That earned him a puzzled look.
"Just go out for energon or something. Not because you feel obligated or because you 'owe' me." Now it was Drift's turn to squirm uncomfortably. "Primus..." Biting off a curse, the swordsmech shook his head in self-disgust.
"I'd love to," Perceptor rescued him from his own blundering with a genuine smile. It was the first time Drift had seen him do that since he'd been injured by Turmoil. Truth be told, it was a little dazzling and the swordsmech found himself at a loss for words."Perhaps after patrol tomorrow?"
"Sounds good," Drift finally managed with a grin. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Perceptor."
"You too, Drift," And with that Perceptor left the rec room and headed towards his lab.
"So you and the science-bot getting on well?" Drift recognized that gruff voice anywhere and turned towards Kup with a guileless smile.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You and Perceptor." The older mech kicked one of the chairs out and settled into the seat without invitation. "Not sayin' it's a bad thing. Maybe you'll be able to talk some sense into him."
"What do you mean?"
"This whole 'warrior' routine he's putting on, it worries me." Kup muttered, biting down on his cy-gar firmly.
"He's been through a traumatic experience." Drift reminded Kup gently. "More than that, I think he's spent too long feeling weak or useless because of his status in the army. Putting him amongst the Wreckers only exacerbated the problem."
"Howso?" Suspicion glinted brightly in Kup's optics.
"You said it yourself, he wasn't the type to fit into this kind of unit. Imagine how alienated that would have made him feel. A intellectual with the brutes and grunts of the Autobot army?"
Shrewdness replaced that suspicion in Kup's optics and he found himself nodding quietly at Drift's words.
"Right and that slagger Turmoil takes him out like a Sparklin'..."
"Exactly. So is it any surprise he wanted to reinvent himself into someone who's useful to the unit and not so easily overpowered?"
"Frag..." Kup muttered oh so eloquently. "Wish Smokey were here to headshrink him a little."
"Smokey?" Drift's optics cycled quickly in a confused blink. "Headshrink? That doesn't sound particularly pleasant."
Kup snorted indelicately. "Smokescreen, he's what passes for a psychologist. Decent enough mech. A little shifty but who am I to point fingers at less than by the book tactics?" The older mech said with a careless shrug.
Taking a judicious sip from his energon, Kup slanted a long look Drift's way. "You aren't hangin' out with him because he owes ya, right?"
"That is the single most insulting thing you've said to me, Kup." Drift's optics narrowed fractionally. "And knowing you, I'm sure you have some reason to try and rile me up with such matters but I'd appreciate it if you didn't play those kinds of games with me."
The old mech had to grace to look slightly abashed. "Sorry, had to ask, Drift. Last thing the kid needs is some parasitic friendship."
"You flatter me so." Mildly annoyed, Drift finished his cube and set it down on a table a little too forcefully. "Yes, I could take advantage of his sense of obligation but I won't. It's dishonorable but more than that, I understand the need to repay a life debt. It is not something to be trifled with or rejected on a whim."
"Fair enough. Kinda partial to the kid, ya gotta understand."
"I do, which is why I'm not taking offense to your little mindgames this time." Something cold flickered through Drift's optics as he stared across the table at Kup.
"Sounds like we understand one another then."
"Indeed, we do." The model of congeniality now, Drift offered a pleasant smile. "Was that all?"
"Ratchet down the attitude there, kid. Yeesh, I'm too fraggin' old for this slag." Groaning to himself Kup clambered noisily to his feet. "Look, ya got a good spark, Drift. If I didn't trust ya, you wouldn't be here."
"I understand that, Kup. And I do appreciate everything you've given me. I know how valuable trust can be."
"Yeah, well, don't let that kinda information get out. Got my rep to consider. Last thing I need is one of these cocky young kids up and deciding I'm getting 'soft' in my old age."
"I highly doubt that is going to happen any time soon." The corners of Drift's lip components twitched, betraying his amusement.
"Hn, just so long as this stays between you an' me. Loose lips sink ships as they used ta say back in my day."
"Such words will not pass my lips, I promise." It didn't cost Drift anything to humor Kup so he offered the words easily enough though the promise backing them were anything but deadly serious. Kup was probably the only mech on the ship who truly understood how iron-clad Drift's promise was and the answer seemed to satisfy the old solider.
"Right then, better make sure those glitches don't get overcharged and blow a hole in the hull." Kup muttered gruffly.
"Have a pleasant evening, Kup. I believe I will take my leave before that happens."
"Prolly for the best." The older mech grunted before making his way back over to the table where Springer and Hot Rod were engrossed in some game that was too loud and boisterous to hold Drift's attention for long.
Instead, he tidied up his mess before heading for the door. Maybe Blurr would be up for a game of Go.