Aaaand in direct follow up to Here and Gone Again (which I plan to rewrite someday now that Wireweaver is more character then catalyst) we find out what happened to Gunpowder, who we last saw slowly wasting away in a barren, empty plain of metal just short of the Ark launch.
Turns out my almost favorite OC survived, but life isn't all fun and games now that his partner's gone and four million years have gone by without him.
Season 3-ish, by the way. Cybertron has recently been reclaimed by the Autobots, who are trying to bring it out of the destruction and disrepair its been in for so long. I should also state that, while I tried hard with the last few to stay within the (admittedly shaky) canon of the cartoon, this one the muse said "screw it!" and wrote whatever it pit-well pleased. For all I know, the story might actually still fit. It also may not. I also have no grasp of Fixit's character, beyond his name- hence why he has no lines.
Octane is ex-Con because I want him to be. I'm actually pretty sure he never officially quit the faction (despite all reason), though my memory is fuzzy on the matter. Octane is one of the few Con's I liked right off the bat… though not necessarily for the right reasons.
No time to draw, but apparently I have a spare hour to write six pages about an OC nobody but me cares about.
I am working on a multi chapter story. Really. I'm just not posting it until it's finished. This is mostly because, at 8-14 thousand words, it's four years old, and I'm still not finished. Since most writers around here can write that in a few days, or even weeks, I'd rather spare myself the embarrassment.
And because I didn't really explain it all that well in-fic, Gunpowder is at first immobile and deprived of most senses due to the repair process. He and First Aid are talking through a text-only link. Like a comm. link, only not.
Autobot Gunpowder
-Autobot, state your name and function.-
-Designation Gunpowder, demolitions expert.- Gunpowder replied automatically. –Who are you?-
-First Aid, appre-… Chief medic of Moon Base 1-
Moon base? He would have to ask later.
-Why did you cut yourself off?-
-My promotion to Chief of Medical Staff was.. Rather recent.-
-I see.- His chronometer was out, Gunpowder suddenly realized. He abruptly wondered when he was, let alone where or how.
-And you conducted my repairs?-
-A portion of them, yes. There wasn't much really. The biggest problem was energon starvation. We've been working on getting your systems reacclimatized for several weeks now. You aren't fully restored, but it was decided you needed to be brought up to speed before we released you anyways.-
-Weeks?- The terminology was unfamiliar to him. Just how much time had passed? –Never mind. How was I found?-
-The wreckers brought you in when they found you in the southern portion of sector nine. They brought you to a nearby reconstruction team, who then relayed you to me.-
-… They didn't find anyone else?-
-No one was brought in.- There was a short pause. –Was there someone with you?-
-I…- Gunpowder paused. It may have been an enormous amount of time since he went into stasis lock, but to him, the memories were still far too fresh.
-… Yes.- He said finally. –In a way. When our ship was shot down, Blacklight suffered critical damage. I took him with me in search of help.-
He paused another moment, his grief apparent even through the silent text of the linkup.
-He died on the way. His body at least should have been with me.-
-No one else was brought in- The other mech, First Aid, was trying very hard to inject sympathy into his words. –I can ask, but there have been a lot of bodies. The teams have to focus on the living first.-
-I understand.- Gunpowder did understand. Even if he wanted nothing more then to give his dearest friend a final farewell.
Autobot Gunpowder
His internment seemed very long after that. His systems slowly recuperating, and his processors often reeling at the amount of information First Aid, and sometimes other bots, would send his way. Updates on Cybertron, on the War, on Earth, everything. It was a lot to take in at once.
Eventually though, he was ready to fully be brought back online.
His first sight was of First Aid and Aid's assistant Fixit. He scanned out normal, and with that was ready to be thrown back into society.
To hear about the drastic changes was one thing- it was quite another to see them with his own optic band. The Autobots controlled Cybertron, there was hardly a Decepticon to be seen, and the cities were slowly but surely being rebuilt. The old and decrepit was being leveled to rebuild it and make it safe again.
Which meant there was demand for his work again. Actual work. Not fighting, not work-as-related-to-war work, actual, honest to Primus work.
He almost felt at home.
He was happy of course, with all the positive changes that had been made while he was gone it was hard not to be, but he couldn't help but miss Blacklight. He would always miss Blacklight, he knew, and accepted that. He often caught himself wistfully imagining what Blacklight would do, or how he would react if he were right there next to Gunpowder.
It was a full vorn –through which much happened, both believable and not- before Gunpowder managed to gather the credits and courage for what he was about to do next.
He had spent much of that time deliberating over the justness of his decision. Was it really right to do this in Blacklight's stead? Was it an insult to his memory? What would he do when he got there anyways?
But once he walked onto the shuttlecraft headed for Earth, he knew his decision, and had every reason in his mind to stand by it.
Autobot Gunpowder
Bots were often rotated through Earth, simply as part of their initiation and training now. It was an excellent platform for teaching various bots how to deal with aliens and organics peacefully, carefully, and with respect. Some took it harder then others, but it was due to this procedure that it was not uncommon for there to be new bots every other cycle wandering about the base.
It wasn't so much that the Bot in question was strange to him per say; Perceptor reasoned to himself, it was just that the Bot kept staring at him…
Yes. That was it. The staring.
Contrary to what most Bots (and people) seemed to think; Perceptor was, in fact, very perceptive. And that included in social situations. That he often played that misconception to his advantage was merely Perceptor being opportunistic. After all, it's hard to pin blame on a bot that everyone thinks too out of it or just plain naïve to do anything other then science.
Not that he would ever attempt anything untoward. Ever. Perish the thought.
But getting back to the topic at hand, he had noticed the Bot's staring pretty much from day one, even if few others seemed to. He had chosen not to do or say anything about it because, well, the gaze did not feel threatening. Instead it seemed much like he was being inspected, like a specimen under a microscope, or perhaps a teacher grading some test he did not know about. It was contemplative, hard, and deep. As much as his curiosity begged him to understand the odd mech's motivations, he held his proverbial tongue, confident that whatever the issue was would be brought to his attention in time.
And so it did.
His lab was empty besides himself that day, working busily on his latest test. It wasn't a particularly difficult test, merely a time consuming one, and was mid-way through it when the chime of his door sounded. Someone wanted to see him obviously.
"Come in." He replied to the chime distractedly, expecting an assistant or perhaps Skyfire. He was slightly surprised when that mech entered- the truck that had been staring at him all this time.
"Are you busy?" Came the question, his voice a deep rumble.
"Nothing that can't be talked around." Perceptor replied as amiably as he could. "Would you prefer something more accommodating? I'm sure there is a bench around here somewhere."
The mech shook his head.
"No, I won't be long."
"Very well then. If I may inquire as to your designation…?"
"Gunpowder. I'm really not here for much."
"Perhaps if you elucidate-"
"I just wanted to meet you, and pay my respects. I once knew a young bot who very much looked up to you."
With that, Gunpowder turned to leave, but was stopped at the door.
"I very deeply apologize for your loss." Perceptor started- he did not know for sure the unknown bot was deactivated, but he could read it well enough on the larger mechanism's features. "If.. If it does not displease you, could I ask your friends designation as well?"
There was a short pause. Gunpowder stared at the wall, like he was watching something no one else could see.
"Blacklight." He said finally. He turned away again, and was gone a moment later.
Autobot Gunpowder
He was stationed off world when it happened. The colonies were slowly popping up, and interstellar trade was on the rise. Off-world expeditions were becoming less and less rare for more and more Cybertronians.
It was on one of these missions he had briefly met Sandstorm, and later departed from him. It wasn't until many many orns later he met the smaller Autobot again, and while he liked the Wrecker well enough, his new friend was another matter entirely.
While Gunpowder had been unable to place the ex-Decepticon at first, he knew the very moment they met that he was familiar.
It wasn't until Sandstorm invited him for some communal energon and brought his 'friend' along that the situation came to a head.
The realization was slow at first, a brief niggling in his brainpan, then as his memory began to piece the scrambled puzzle together, and he became more and more suspicious of the purple triple-changer.
Autobot Gunpowder
Octane generally avoided regaling tales of his victories at battle, or other such memories concerning the Autobots; more because it made the typically squeamish Autobots uncomfortable then out of any guilt of his own. They had been at war, stuff happened, and people died. Octane kept his vocaliser mute at most points however- for Sandstorm if for nothing else, his only friend out of everybody else who wanted his head.
So of course it would figure that one of the few times he does talk about something he did (and in his defense, it had been relevant to the topic at hand), that big truck Sandstorm had insisted on inviting goes completely off the wall on him.
There had been this big silence at first, and the truck got very stiff. Octane's survival senses went off at alarming levels and Sandstorm looked between Octane and the truck uneasily.
"You shot down that shuttle?" The voice was deep, and quiet, and all but spelled Octane's imminent doom with those words.
"It was an Autobot shuttle in Decepticon territory. What were we going to do, send it flowers?" He was not, however, going to try and rationalize whatever he had done to this truck. It was a war. That's what happened.
In any event, what little knowledge Octane had of the mech was that he was quiet, rational, and observant. If the mech was upset by something, he should have given a clipped reply and left, or simply have stalked out of the room if he was really angry.
Octane did not expect the truck to lunge for his throat.
Autobot Gunpowder
Sandstorm came to see him later, in the brig. Fighting amongst themselves was prohibited, and Gunpowder was being punished accordingly. Despite Gunpowder being a very large truck, he just didn't have the mass equivalent to a triple-changing jet/tanker ex-Decepticon. Both had been rather banged up in the scuffle, Octane only barely moreso; though Gunpowder suspected it was the difference between Octane's surprise (and unwillingness to create even more of a bad name for himself) and Gunpowder's intent to kill that made that difference.
Sandstorm was reluctant to bring up Octane's condition in front of his newest friend, but the truck wasn't really listening. Sandstorm tried conversation several times, in concern. The orange bot didn't know much about Gunpowder's past, if only because they hadn't known each other very long, but he knew enough to know that Gunpowder.. Was alone. He had not made any long-term friends. He had not tied himself down in any place for too long. And though he was equally worried about what would happen once they let Gunpowder out and he met Octane once more, he couldn't help but think that Gunpowder had not been adjusting well at all.
The orange triple-changer left after a while, needing to get back to his duties and promising to check back (on both Octane and Gunpowder) soon.
Autobot Gunpowder
Recuperating in the local medical facility, Octane had only one thought.
Boy could Sandstorm ever pick his friends.
… Not that he really had any right to be talking in that particular department.
Autobot Gunpowder
Gunpowder watched Sandstorm leave the brig for parts unknown. Regret, and grief, he had held back ever since he had been stripped away from the ex-Decepticons plating rose to great him in 'Storm's place.
And for the first time since he had laid Blacklight's shell on the barren wasteland metal somewhere between sectors 8 and 9, Gunpowder put his head in his hands and wept.