Chapter 1: Beginnings
Ironhide glared at Soundwave's diminutive morons from his position against the bars. Outside them, Rumble and Frenzy taunted the prisoners as if the midgets themselves were personally responsible for their capture. But he didn't deem the cowardly activity with a verbal response. Fortunately for the cassettes' entertainment, the same couldn't be said of his fellow Autobots.
To pass the time, he fixed some of the slurs' grammatical errors in his head. He reminded himself to remember a few of the more creative insults for later use on Sideswipe, the fragger, and to keep his mind off of more...pressing...matters. Like his current location. If only that idiot Warpath had watched where he was going, instead of driving like a maniac - then he wouldn't be stuck in Kaon. Rumble and Frenzy left, probably to go annoy someone else, and Ironhide weighed the pros and cons before powering down for a couple breems' rest. After all, if he ever got rescued, he had to be ready to haul aft.
Ironhide didn't know what time it was when he woke up. His helm got hit pretty hard during capture, causing his chronometer and scanners to stop working. 'Ratchet will have to look at that.'
He was pacing the length of his cell when the profanities increased noticeably. Guards must have come back or something, but he didn't care to find out. Well, he found out anyway when two guards with matching purple paint schemes ('how cute') stopped outside the entrance to his cell, carrying between them a slumped figure. 'Or maybe dead figure', Ironhide thought, when the mechs unceremoniously tossed the stranger in with him. The body made a decent 'THUMP' upon contact with the ground.
He could have tried to use the moment to escape, but he didn't have to be Smokescreen to see that the odds against his two armed opponents - both of which had their pulse rifles trained on him - weren't that good. Only after the Decepticon guards moved on did he approach the prone mech. Whoever he was, he was small, possibly a minibot, which was a relief to him. All of the prisoners were unarmed, so if Ironhide's new roommate had any violent tendencies, he would have to be some piece of work in servo-to-servo combat to best him.
Curious, the red mech ventured a, "Hey." Nothing. "Hey, mech." Nope. Ironhide lightly kicked him, the bonafide way to get something broken to work. The unknown person groaned and shifted slightly. Finally getting somewhere, Ironhide kicked him again. A cracked black visor looked up slowly, focused on nothing.
That lasted for about .1 astro-seconds, because the next thing Ironhide knew, the stranger was up and putting space between them, giving Ironhide a better view. The figure stared, and Ironhide stared back, momentarily slack-jawed, for different reasons. 'Who the Pit was this guy?'
He'd never seen a frame like this before. The small mech was unnaturally thin, even for a minibot, to the point where Ironhide wondered if he even had an alt mode. Forget the alt mode though, his armor was practically nonexistent. Useless. Not to the point of indecency, but it looked exceedingly thin, and was rounder and smoother looking than the bulky shape of his own. The 'bot had shallow lines crossing about him every which way ('alt mode depressions?'), some in rings that gave his arms and legs a segmented look, and others running upward, downward, or diagonally; many even connected or crossed over in places. Of course, the lines were so thin and shallow as to be unnoticeable unless one was staring at the deliberate looking scratches intently, like he was.
The elbow and knee joints were never completely covered, and what protoform area was covered changed with movements (as all Cybertronian armor did), but that wasn't what made the limbs odd. It took Ironhide a second to realize that it was the fact that neither the arms nor legs had any extra, jutting pieces or spikes that people normally had on their bodies, signalling parts of an altmode or frame modifications. This guy looked a step away from the basic root mode framework before it had upgrades added to it.
'The frag? Who would ever willingly transfer into such a useless frame? It doesn't seem to have an alt mode, and that armor looks too thin to withstand any real damage! Did the 'Cons strip him of his real armor? Did Shockwave stick him in that frame? No wonder he was taken prisoner, he looks so weak!' Ironhide's flabbergasted stare didn't prompt any verbal response for what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time. The visored mech seemed to be sizing him up as well, though the weapons specialist couldn't say for sure because the mech had his battle mask up too, rendering his face expressionless. The stranger broke the stalemate to take in his surroundings. He ignored ironhide while trekking around closed space, still keeping a distance as he tested the integrity of his side of their cell.
"Already checked. There ain't no busting out of here." The mech turned to face him, but didn't reply. Ironhide tried again. "Are you a neutral then? I don't see an autobot sigil." Besides that, neutrals usually had white optics/visors. Though for one to survive this far in the war was difficult. Many neutrals had joined either side's cause as a means of getting energon, resources and, well, not getting shot.
The mech, despite being expressionless, seemed confused by the query. He looked away again after a breem. 'Maybe I'm not the only one with a helm injury', Ironhide thought. He tried a simpler question.
"What is your designation?"
"jhghffglkfs," the mech coughed. Otherwise he didn't answer.
"Your designation," Ironhide repeated. "what do I call ya?"
By now several of the mechs in the surrounding cells had caught sight of Ironhide's weird looking roommate and were now paying curious attention. There wasn't much to do in a prison. The mech tilted his head in a 'didn't-you-hear-me' kinda way and repeated the strangled coughing noise in his vocalizer.
From his cell across the way, Warpath taunted, "Maybe that guy's as stupid as he looks." Ironhide threw a "Shut up, Warpath" over his shoulder, still pissed at the young warrior. Suddenly the neutral tensed, straightened up, and then cheerily made another weird static sound before turning an abrupt about face and walking to the back of the cell where he sat down with his back against the wall. His legs were somehow folded in front of him, making Ironhide cringe internally. That looked painful. The neutral now watched Ironhide intently.
A few of the watching prisoners commented on the weird angle of his legs in that position, saying things like "what the…."
"that looks painful."
"Who sits like that?"
Warpath openly laughed at the funny 'bot's sudden change in demeanor and yelled, "You're locked in a cell with a psychopath Ironhide!" This time Ironhide fully turned around to tell his subordinate to shut the frag up, but he never got the chance. A loud 'BOOM' echoed through the space, giving prisoners and guards alike pause. Activity restarted itself in an instant, with all the guards demanding over the comms and out loud to know what just happened, and others answering with what amounted to "We're under attack!"
Ironhide noted movement and turned to see his cellmate had jumped up at the noise. He looked frightened. Well, as frightened as anyone without a face could look, Ironhide supposed. Warpath asked, "What was that?"
"The calvary, if I had to guess. About time they showed up," Ironhide supplied.
A series of clicks went off, and Ironhide realized it was the cells' locks at the same time that a voice warned over the Kaon prison intercom, "Prisoners escaped. Repeat, cell malfunction, prisoners escaped." With a gleeful "Fraggin' finally!" Ironhide lunged at the cell door, which, unlocked, gave way. He transformed and sped off down the hallway that was becoming crowded as cells became empty.
"We're free!"
"They came for us!"
"Let's kick some aft!"
In the rush of wheels and peds, no one noticed the small mech that hesitantly stepped out of the cell Ironhide had so quickly vacated. Not wanting to be alone in such a hostile place, the mech sprinted after the crowd against his better judgement.