The home of Anthony Stark was a vast, sprawling building on the rocky outcroppings of the West Coast, outside LA. It was perched over Point Dume, overlooking the Pacific, still close enough to drive into LA in a moderate amount of time. Since Tony usually took his sports cars or flew, that time was always shortened to a third of normal driving time. Stark owned the whole massive rock foundation his home stood on, and then some. This was as private and exclusive as it got.
Held all in white, with a huge vista across the ocean, the mansion appeared both stylish and futuristic. The protrusion to the side of the ocean looked like a flying saucer had docked at the building, and even the massive supports appeared slender in their pristine whiteness. Everything inside the house was run by JARVIS, Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, an artificial intelligence that had been developed and programmed by Tony himself. What had been a pet project had turned into an AI with a hidden sense of humor, a sometimes quite obvious dose of sarcasm, and an attitude that showed when he argued with his master.
Below the mansion, inside the massive rock it stood on, was a whole other world. Not only did the sub-terranean levels hold Tony's sports car collection, as well as his garage and workshop, it also housed the Iron Man armor.
All that was known to the Autobot and human who had followed a signal to this place. Second Lieutenant Andrew Burn watched the visual display of the signal and grimaced. Nothing changed. The signal was still there, still pointing at the mansion, and Ratchet was silently observing both his efforts, and the house.
The driveway to the front entrance was wide, winding through a perfectly groomed lawn, past a helicopter landing pad that was currently empty, and toward a parking space. Everything was dark and silent, protected by state-of-the-art burglar systems.
"Now what?" Burn asked. "You said you can't tell whether it's Autobot or Decepticon, just Cybertronian."
Ratchet made a soft, humming noise. "True. There might be a Decepticon hiding here."
"Why here?"
"Mr. Stark is a powerful man with access to a technology no one else possesses."
"And he gives himself away with this signal?" Burn sounded doubtful.
"Decepticons can camouflage their signals, but if their camouflage fails because of system problems, we can pick them up."
"How often has that happened before?"
Ratchet was silent for a moment. "Well, not that often," he finally confessed. "It could be a trap as well," he said, though he really hoped it wasn't.
Burn sighed. "So now what?"
Before Ratchet could answer, the signal suddenly moved. Burn looked around, trying to see what they were following, and caught sight of something fast and silvery disappearing between the few trees on the side of the mansion.
"I'm on it," Ratchet told him before the lieutenant could say anything, and the H2 was racing after their elusive target.
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Tony was bent over a laptop, which he had hooked up to the suit, and was looking over the damage reports. The lab was aboveground, which told him just how far down past the bottom rung he had fallen, and aside from a brief visit from Jazz, he had been left alone. He knew there was at least one other Autobot here, Bumblebee, and there had to be more soldiers, but the facility didn't end at one basement level. There was a lot more down there and it was off limits for him.
He, the child genius who had built a circuit board at four and an engine at six, was denied access. He had graduated from MIT summa cum laude at the age of seventeen, shortly after which he had inherited Stark Industries following his parents' deaths. He had always been sought after. Men and women wanted to shake his hands or more. Usually more. People wanted something from him at every corner and he rarely had to ask to be invited to anything.
Not here.
Nothing counted with the military or any association affiliated with it when it came to top secret things.
It had him grumpy. And aching. His body demanded rest, but he couldn't. His armor suit was in shambles and he needed to know what had happened. He had to be prepared to counter whatever it was with whatever might counter it, and so he worked through the damage reports and files. Someone had left him food and he ate it, but sleep was a commodity he wasn't taking.
Stark looked at the screen. It was a strange read-out. Nothing had attacked him from outside. It was more like a massive overload of data within, and then the plug had been pulled. A virus invading the systems, nosing around, breaking firewalls he had so painstakingly put up, and simply disabling everything. Aside from a few basic systems, that is.
Weird.
Nothing like this had ever happened to the armor before. Sure, he had been beat up, shot at, crashed, set on fire, frozen and whatnot, but he had never had such a catastrophic system failure. And why had the HUD survived? It wasn't like it had been better protected.
A prickling feeling at his neck had him look up and he smiled at the young man leaning in the doorway. "Hey, Sam."
"Mr. Stark," Sam Witwicky replied, smiling back.
"It's Tony. Why is everyone around here so formal?" Tony complained.
"Maybe because they're all impressed by you?"
Stark grimaced. "Hardly. I think the only thing that would impress Banachek was if I came up with a plan single-handedly to make us invincible to Decepticon attacks."
Sam chuckled. "Probably."
"What are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same of you."
"Crashed."
Sam smirked. "I heard."
He walked over and circled around the suit. His eyes lit up and Tony recognized that light. It was the same he had been told was in his own eyes whenever he tackled an engineering problem. His mind was always out for a challenge, his brain itching for something to puzzle over.
He and Sam had met when the younger man had just finished his second dissertation, now holding two doctorates, bright, knowledgeable, and very much part of the Autobots. If he had thought he would have a chance to even get the kid, Tony would have offered him a job. As it was, he had spent the day discussing ever more complicated tech and engineering problems with Sam and had been left impressed and slightly bothered. Here was someone who understood Cybertronian technology better than anyone he had ever met, even his own bright cadre of engineers, and he was just twenty-five!
Throughout the next months he kept in contact with Sam, which led to a respect-filled friendship between the two so different men.
"You with this secret project I fell in on?" Stark now asked casually.
"Possible."
Tony grimaced. "Why is no one telling me about it?"
"Probably because Banachek would lock you up and throw away the key. You have a reputation."
"As a genius."
"As a mad genius, maybe," Sam countered, circling the armor. "And a womanizer and eccentric and so many more things. Reckless, comes to mind."
"I'm a super hero, kid," Tony told him with a grin. "Read the papers."
Sam shrugged. "And still you crashed here. After you weren't even supposed to be anywhere 'here'."
Tony sighed and keyed in another command, frowning at the outcome. What the hell had happened to his suit?
"Something you guys did brought me down, right?"
Another shrug.
"Quit playing games, Sam! I've top clearance. I work with alien robots! I know the whole shebang." Tony felt his temper rise. "I tested my suit and yes, it was in your territory! Deal with it. I did. You shot me down with something and I need to know what it was!"
"I can help you get the suit up and running again," Sam offered.
"And the next time something like that hits me again and I'm out like a light?"
"It won't happen again, Tony."
Stark narrowed his eyes. "Why? Did your weapon blow up in your faces?"
Sam had stopped walking around the suit and faced him, a strange expression in his young face. "No, it didn't. I am that weapon, Tony."
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Nowadays there were few things that could really rattle or shock Anthony Stark. Hearing about technopathic abilities induced by Allspark radiation bursts was something that belonged into the category of 'that's one of them that can'.
Sam was a technopath.
He could offline machines, he could enter computer programs, he could attack and defend, destroy or help.
Calm brown eyes met his disbelieving look.
"You brought me down with a thought?"
A shrug. "Followed by a major headache and two packs of M&Ms."
The possibilities for this were… endless!
"It's not a weapon," Sam continued. "It's an ability. It costs me and I normally don't use it like I did on you. I use it for engineering purposes mostly. You… you were an unknown object we had to stop before things got dangerous. It was the fastest and cleanest solution."
"Because of whatever it is that's going on here?"
"You got it," a new voice announced and Tony turned.
He knew the man now looking at him with a smirk on his face. He had seen him before and though Pepper claimed he had really bad memory when it came to menial things, he remembered people who had impressed him.
This man had. Captain Will Lennox, Army Ranger. The man had been in charge of the troops protecting Tony's ass throughout a weapons demonstration in Qatar. It had been before the fateful one in Afghanistan. The young captain had been at his side as a personal bodyguard and while they hadn't struck up a riveting conversation, the strong presence and quiet competence, as well as the quick wit and wicked humor, had stuck with Tony.
Another lifetime, he mused.
"Captain Lennox, right?"
"Major, actually. But I was retired."
Tony didn't miss the 'was retired'. Lennox was wearing blue jeans, a green Army issue t-shirt, and boots. No insignia, no gear, not even a com device.
"And you're here," Stark remarked.
"Just like you are." Will came closer, hands in his pockets, and Stark wondered what it was that set him off about the Major.
Why was he here if he wasn't with the military any longer?
Like all of his breed, there was a steady tension in him, even when he seemed relaxed, and Tony had been with too many military- bred men and women not to notice such things. Even in civvies, the military side stood out.
And then he saw it. Something crept over the right cheek, looking like some kind of weird symbol. It flowed across the temple and disappeared.
"What the hell was that?" he exclaimed.
"You've just been cleared for the whole base, Tony. And me. How about we leave the armor suit with Sam and I'll give you the tour?" Lennox offered.
Something else appeared on Lennox's bare forearm, like a string of weird symbols, and they lazily drifted around the skin in circular motion.
Like a holographic projection onto skin, but not really. It wasn't on top. It was… in the skin.
"Lennox…"
"You'll get the briefing, Stark. Just follow me."
Sam gave Tony a smile. "Go on ahead. I'll have a look at the armor. I mean, I did it. I can undo it."
Tony didn't feel well leaving his suit with the kid, but Sam was a genius… a technopath. And he really, really wanted to know what was going on here. Really!
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Ratchet had followed the other car to an unpopulated area where it had stopped. He didn't know if Barricade had pursued them in turn though he was pretty sure that he had done so. He had sent the Decepticon a brief message to stand back, let him handle it, but he hadn't received a confirmation.
Burn regarded the sports car warily. It was one of those exclusive, exotic sports cars. Silver, low cut, hunkering down on the asphalt like a sprinter ready to take off at any second.
"Anything?" the lieutenant asked quietly.
"Actually…" Ratchet stopped, then made a surprised noise. "Get out," he then ordered.
Burn didn't hesitate. It had been one of his first lessons: obey the Autobots in a situation like this. It was preferable to be outside a transforming mechanoid, not inside. He opened the door and slipped out, positioning himself slightly to the left of Ratchet as the Autobot transformed.
"Who are you?" the medic asked.
The R8 changed from four-wheeled to bipedal in front of Burn's eyes, though it seemed he had difficulties. It didn't look as smooth as when any of the other mechs Burn had watched transformed. The result was a mech about Bumblebee's size, colored in silver and black, blue optics bright. Even his robot mode looked stream-lined, just like the car. Still, despite the smooth exterior looks there was a tiredness in his optics, something Burn could only see because he had worked with the Autobots for so long by now. This was show. A good show, great to look at, he decided, but here was a mech in dire need of assistance.
"Hey, Ratchet," the mech said, sounding casual. "Long time no see."
"Hot Rod!" Ratchet exclaimed.
"I take it you're friends?" Burn asked, wondering how mechs could recognize each other when only the protoforms stayed the same. Maybe it was something like signals or specific markers. Who knew? He had never really asked those questions.
"He's an Autobot," Ratchet replied. "Last time we met was when Prime sent him and several others off on a recon mission at Altari."
"And that's where everything went down to the Pits," Hot Rod replied. "Sorry I couldn't tell you who I was and had to play this charade, but there's a lot I haven't managed to repair after that."
"What happened?" Ratchet wanted to know, simultaneously taking a scanner out of the many compartments on his body.
"The Cons knew we were coming. We lost badly and I have no idea where Springer, Tracks and the others ended up. When I came back from near-offlining I was alone. I tried to find Prime and you guys, but you were gone and so I followed. There was no one left anyway."
"How long have you been here?" Ratchet asked, looking not too happy about the read-outs he was getting. "And why didn't you come to the base?"
Hot Rod shrugged. "A while. I lost track of time, like so many things." Hot Rod looked positively embarrassed at the confession. "I had tried to follow Prime's ship, but it was hard. You were always up ahead of me and gone when I reached your last known position. I encountered a wormhole and afterwards, it's really hard to remember how I ended up on this planet. I was pretty much out of energon, my damaged systems hadn't been repaired all that well, and when I slammed into the ground in some desert, I was out for a while. Came to and found myself on some island called Australia. I caught Prime's signal from halfway across this planet and I knew there were Autobots here, but I was more or less blind, deaf and couldn't spare a lot of energon. My systems were a bust and I trans-scanned what I could, then tried to make it here. Took me a while and I ended up all over this planet, but finally I was aboard a transport ship across the Atlantic when I ran into this hot new bod."
Hot Rod gestured at himself and Burn had to confess that the Audi R8 was a truly hot car. It also made him wonder if there were any other mechanoids hiding on his world, maybe even Decepticons.
"The trans-scan had me nearly off-line again. I couldn't contain enough energon. I didn't know who the new owner was, so I decided to chance it. I ended up with Stark. I had two more system crashes and each time I just barely managed to get back. My sensors were… really messed up. But I could listen in to Stark and I managed to log into his computer system JARVIS. When he started to use Cybertronian tech on the suit, I knew I had to find you guys. The signals I broadcast were my only hope at the time. I wasn't strong enough for more."
Ratchet deactivated his scanners and shook his head. "You're a true mess, kid."
"Don't I know it."
"This will take a while to repair. And I think Optimus Prime really would want to meet you."
Hot Rod nodded. "I can make it."
"According to my scans, just about. I'll give you a complete overhaul the moment we're back at the base." Ratchet transformed and Burn climbed back into the H2.
Hot Rod transformed as well and followed them back up the road and then onto the highway.
"Does Stark know who you are?" Ratchet asked as they drove.
"No. At least I don't think so. The performance of the alternate mode, the car, was always perfect."
Because camouflage had always been essential in their existence. Even if his processor was slowly dying, the car would handle like any other of its make.
"Then keep it at that unless Prime tells you otherwise."
"Sure."
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Barricade had stayed back, hidden from the new-arrival's sensors, though judging from his condition, he wouldn't have detected Barricade if the former Decepticon had stood right behind him.
Another one, he mused.
It was getting crowded. Not that he had a problem with it. Barricade didn't care one way or the other.
The Saleen joined the highway again, heading nowhere specific. Jazz was still at the Arctic base, so he decided to pick up patrol again to fight off boredom. It would be intriguing to check the reaction of the criminal element of this area to his presence.
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A space ship.
Of course a space ship. The Autobots had arrived somehow. He had known about the existence of the Ark and the Nemesis, but he had never figured Project to go as far as trying to retrieve the Autobot relic. Sure, it was a ship full of potential, but getting it here, landing it, stripping it down… no, too much risk.
But he hadn't known about the Ghost-1 mission from 1969, nor the Ghost-2, that had been launched just a week ago.
Space had been a dream of him ever since he had constructed his first rocket at the age of three, much to the surprise and also chagrin of his parents. He had tried out the limits of the armor suit and it had never taken him high enough. Now Project had built a space ship based on Cybertron and human tech… and it was currently sitting behind the moon and trying to communicate with the Autobot ship.
How cool was that?
And why had no one asked him for help?
Well, they were now, because they had no other choice. He had crashed their party and he was useful.
"So let me get this straight," Tony said into the silence of the room. It was just him, Banachek, Lennox and Sam. And of course two Autobots. "You spend two years constructing a hybrid space ship. You launch it in secrecy, you time everything right, you get it into position and your highly trained crew punches all the right buttons… and nada?"
"Kinda," Jazz said before Banachek could reply. "The nada isn't really a nada, but it's close to it. We can contact the Ark and we know the main computer is online, but we can't access flight control, or any other system for that matter."
"Who constructed the interface unit?" Tony asked levelly.
"We did," Sam replied, meeting the hard gaze head-on. "Ratchet and Jazz know the ship best and the engineers here worked together with them."
Stark smiled humorlessly. "Of course you did." He turned to glare at Banachek. "Stark Industries works with Cybertron tech and its incorporation into human systems on a daily basis! It's what you hired us for. We do the impossible and it never fails. We come up with new interfaces, we take it apart and study it and we put it back together. We're the foremost knowledgeable company in that sector! It isn't even a sector, there's just us! And do you come to us to ask for help? No! You putter around and just cobble something together! Of course you got the bots to handle their systems and you got Sam who understands what it all does, but neither of them ever built an interface from scrap!"
"I realize we should have asked, Mr. Stark. At the time we decided against it," Banachek simply replied.
"Cost cutting?" Tony taunted. "Or did you think I'd start drooling over your little space ship?"
Banachek smiled. "The latter actually."
"Oh for the love of…!" Tony threw his hands up in a gesture of anger. "Think all you will about me personally, but as the CEO of my company I know where business starts and personal interests end!
At least most of the time, he added, but didn't voice it out loud.
He had learned that the hard way. Afghanistan had changed him. He might not be a better man, but Anthony Edward Stark had learned that there was more to life than women, fast cars and alcohol. He had changed course of his company, had signed new contracts, went new ways, had a new future now.
"Maybe your past exploits and indiscretions still work unfavorably for the company."
"Believe what you will, but even you should realize that for something this big, personal opinions should have been ignored. The facts are there, Tom: Stark Industries is bridging gaps and you ignored us!"
"You remedied that mistake."
Stark chuckled humorlessly. "Just your luck that I crashed into your back yard, hm? So you're asking for help now?"
"Are you offering?"
"Let me call my assistant. I believe she might be able to free a couple of days just for you. Oh, right, I'm not allowed to contact her. Then, yes, I'm free."
Two pairs of hard eyes met, then Banachek's smile was back. "Welcome to the team then, Mr. Stark. We have two days to get the interface running or the time window is a bust."
"I love working under pressure," Tony replied sarcastically. "It's when I do my most brilliant work."
Banachek's smile didn't waver. "Then it's your best challenge yet."
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"No super powers?" Stark asked as he watched pale runes flit over tanned skin.
It was fascinating to watch it all. Some were a dark golden, some bronzed, some a burned gray or silver, but they were all alien, all that weird cosmic code, and they looked like living creatures moving underneath the human skin.
"Nope."
"So you're what? A billboard?"
Lennox chuckled. "In a way."
"What if you cut yourself? What about bruises?"
"They don't escape," Will laughed.
"Funny guy."
Lennox smirked. "No, I heal quite fast and I don't scar. At least past injuries haven't scarred."
"How does it work?" Tony wanted to know.
"No one knows," Will answered and shrugged.
He told Stark of the theories Dr. Mark Keyron, their resident expert on Allspark-changed humans, had had concerning the runes underneath his skin. When Will had asked about the possibility to mask his face with a kind of theater make-up so he could go out, Keyron had shook his head.
Will's new skin with the shifting runes likely wouldn't be amenable to make-up covering the runes. The shifting runes were likely changes in the melanosomes and melanocytes populating the epidermis and since they were so rapidly changing, well, the constituents of the epidermis would likely shift as well, leading to the makeup being shed or absorbed or even completely ineffectual. As it was, the doctor had been right. Make-up didn't work. Holographic images might, but it was a huge step from an independent projection to covering a human being so perfectly no one would notice. So far, nothing had worked.
That Lennox was officially dead shocked Tony a little.
"What about your family?" he asked, aware that he might pour a lot of salt in a still open wound.
Lennox's eyes shadowed. "I tried to keep track of their lives, tried to be at least in the background, but… it's hard. Harder when your wife… ex-wife… doesn't know you're still alive. I can't support my family, can't meet my daughter… I'm dead, Tony. Simple as that."
Stark noted the fine lines of distress, enhanced by the more active and more numerous runes. Tony had been orphaned at seventeen and he had never really had what could be called a family after that. He had been a rich, promising kid who everyone wanted to influence. Adolescence had been hell. Obadiah had been a surrogate father, but also a mentor, the company's CEO until Tony was ready, and later a traitor. Pepper and Rhodey… they were what remained of his family. Everyone else had been…. Well, his family had been machines. It was strange to see alien machines that could communicate, had emotions, were so human and sometimes so alien, and then compare them to JARVIS, as well as the independent little helpers he had.
"Anyone new?" he finally asked.
Will laughed softly. "In a way," he answered evasively, and Tony could take a hint.
Two years ago he wouldn't have cared. Two years ago he had sipped drinks, had party girls hanging off his arms and women who had thrown themselves at him. He hadn't had a care in the world – because he had known little of the real suffering in the world. He had known nothing at all about his own company.
That had changed.
He had changed.
"Okay, here we are," Lennox announced and led Stark into the room ahead. "Your lab for the next forty-right hours. Well, actually less. You have complete access to all systems in here. Sam will work with you. He's the best you got at testing what you think might work."
The lights had come on automatically, bathing everything in a soft blue hue that took the painful brightness out of the artificial lighting. Half of the lab was concrete walls; the other half consisted of thick glass slabs that gave the whole place the feeling of a giant fish tank.
The lab was spacious but still looked crammed by all the equipment present, as well as a large work table, several smaller ones at the walls and the wide-spread computer terminal area. State-of-the-art, he noted. Even some Cybertronian tech, too.
It felt like home, he mused. Okay, not as homey, but similar. The cluttered mess was, as Pepper had once put it, a reflection of his mind. This was what his brain looked like on the inside, and still he knew where every screw and every tool was in his workshop. He couldn't be so sure when it came to memos. He lost them, he ignored them, he couldn't remember ever receiving them.
Will handed him a slot key. "Yours. Don't lose it."
Stark pocketed it. "Won't," he replied.
He walked up to the computer station and inspected the tools he would need to hopefully solve Project's problem. All there.
"You need anything?" Will asked.
"Coffee."
"Got it. Word of advice when it comes to Sam: don't let him overdo it. Headaches are common, but the migraines knock him out. There's chocolate in one of the drawers, as well as power bars. Feed him."
"What is he? Some kind of Tamagotchi pet?" Tony joked.
Will wasn't laughing. "Do it. One of the men will check in now and then, see if there's something you need and forgot to call us about."
Stark shrugged, then turned back to the computer. It had powered up in a second and the flatscreen displayed a wide array of folders, one of them standing out more prominently and marked 'G2-INTF'.
Time to get serious.
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tbc...
Yes, I know Hot Rod from the G1 cartoons. Rodimus Prime was actually the reason I wrote over 60 stories in that 'verse. I love the guy to pieces :) I know he's flaming red, yellow and orange, but desperate times, desperate measures and such things. He trans-scanned what was available. You don't get to have a choice when it's pure survival. And he still looks really, really cool as an R8. :P
I also gave him more maturity than the G1 writers did before he became Rodimus Prime. I think the things he went through back on Cybertron had him grow up pretty fast.