C.M.D: Been trying to work on this chapter for a while now, but alas, I will not be adding more to this one so I figured I may as well share it and hopefully that'll get the juices flowing so I can continue. In the meantime, please enjoy!
i.
He awoke to the sounds of fighting. Turning slightly on the medical slab, Snare stared at the door, echoes of a scuffle ringing outside the medbay loudly while he quietly flexed pedes and fingers. With a ringing clang, everything fell silent; a klik later, the door slid open following a successful code entry. Unsurprising, it was Impactor.
"I see you finally got the door fixed," the Predator said in lieu of a greeting.
The Wrecker glanced at the smaller mech for a moment, before heading towards one of the side cabinets. Obviously being ignored, Snare watched as the harpoonist fished for a welder with his one servo, turning it on and awkwardly angling it toward a gash across his side. It was a poor job, but the harpoonist managed to keep the two pieces close enough together that the metal fused in a decent fix. The repair would not be winning an beauty contests, unfortunately.
"He's more than capable of killing me, you know," Snare called out as Impactor tossed the tool away.
The Autobot paused at the statement, his helm angling toward the flyer enough to allow a glare.
"If he doesn't do it first, I'm sure you will," he added.
Slamming the cabinet door back in place, Impactor faced the Decepticon, already snarling. "If this is some sort of fragging slag as to why I should let you go gallivanting about the Unicron-damned universe, like some sort of grounded idiot, you can forget it!," the purple mech barked. "Mark or not, you're a fragging 'con and any 'bot would be more than happy to stick a slug between your dimwitted optics!"
"Like you... right?" This time, the Wrecker was truly frozen. Mouth twisted open, prepped for a returning bellow, the sound fizzled out before it reached much further from his vocalizer. Snare was glad for the silence, but when their optics met, he was the first to drop his gaze. Unluckily, it fell to the paint-flecked harpoon dangling from Impactor's side.
The rest of the words tumbled out of the Predator's mouth unbidden at that point. "There hasn't been a moment since I first awoke after Garrus-9 that the two of you haven't made it your mission to slaughter every mech wearing a Decepticon faction mark. It's not a 'justice' thing either," he said lowly, "It's... You just do. The only thing that matters is the kill."
Snare found the strength to look up once more, catching the Autobot lifting his optics from his own harpoon as well. "You don't even fight the feeling and I have the scars to prove it. One orn, you'll snuff my spark finally... and you won't notice, because, as you say, I'm still a 'con," he finished.
Something flashed across Impactor's face, indiscernible to the viewer, before the Wrecker defaulted to his regular setting: rage. Flinching as equipment was thrown around the medbay, the flyer was relieved when the purple mech marched his fit to another part of the ship. Sadly, relief was not the same as happy.
ii.
It was time. After countless weeks of waiting and even longer orns of slowly easing into his new connectors, it was time to fly. Neural net was abuzz with anticipation, fuel lines pumping quick and turbines warming at his heels. The full-frame reaction was dizzying, yet Snare knew it would not compare to the sensation of flight. Having almost lost it, the experience would be pure ecstasy.
Which is why it was unsettling to find his way to the ship's docking bay strangely uneventful. Given Impactor's dangerous obsession to keep the Predator, the flyer had expected locks, pass codes, trip wires... Slag, he had honestly believed he would find the Wrecker sitting at the dock doors, a loaded rifle in his lap.
Nothing.
Nada.
Alone, Snare slowly turned about the loading dock, everything peaceful as it should be if the ship hadn't been commandeered by two unstable Autobots. Confused, the Decepticon looked at the keypad for the exterior doors again, yet they still remained unlocked as well. All he had to do was press the open command... Pushing aside the worrying vocalizer whispering about traps, the Predator went ahead and pressed the keypad, starting to tremble from top to bottom. Alarms began blaring overhead at the action, but were quickly subdued by the controlled atmosphere being sucked into the depth of space, Snare allowing himself to be ripped out of the ship the same way. He tumbled and rolled about in a drunken fashion for a few astroseconds, before he righted himself and transformed. Gears still protested the action, yet it went along smoother than all the times the Predator had practiced in the medbay, leaving only a mild sting as a whole new relay of sensors activated.
Fortune seemed to be smiling on the Decepticon finally, for his radar picked up energy readouts coming from a reasonable distance, in the opposite direction of Impactor's ship. Probably a pit-stop or something along the lines of. Good enough to pick up further bearings and put as much distance between himself and the Wreckers as possible. Destination set, Snare twisted his nosecone towards the energy source, his turbines to the shuttle still flying forward steadily.
Though his equipment estimated the journey to be less than an orn, it easily took three times longer than that. Free at last, flight-able and all alone, the Decepticon could not resist as he dived, rolled and spiraled in sparkling-like abandonment; spark humming jubilantly to be suspended among the glittering galaxy again.
iii.
"Primus, you really went through quite a ringer," the Autobot chuckled, surveying the Predator from top to bottom as he circled around the small room. His arms were already laden with supplies, but that didn't stop the mech from gathering up even more items. "You sure you don't want me to dang out those dents? It'd be best to do it before the paint."
Snare sat on a half-slab, resisting the urge to scratch at his crawling circuits beneath his plating. It was unusual to have an Autobot be so friendly towards him (Impactor, obviously, did not count) and the overwhelming amount of kind attention set the flyer on edge. Oddly, he felt like a liar, despite having no second agenda. Realizing he was being watched, the Predator rebooted his vocalizer, answering the Autobot, "U-um, no. I'm fine."
"Well, I guess I get it," the minibot hummed, almost stumbling before finally setting down his load. His fingers set to work piecing together a spray-gun, pulling canisters of colours closer to himself as he did. "I mean, things are still kinda rough even here and-"
Snare tuned the Autobot out. There was only so much patience he had for mindless babbling, but the little mech was tolerable enough. Also, he was the only one in the grounded spacecraft with any engineer skills.
"So-"
"Hey, you still working?" The question was produced by a femme who poked her helm into the tiny room through the open doorway. Where the engineer was small, his assistant was tall and wide and more obnoxious than the Predator could accept. As if to prove his point, the larger Autobot turned her attention to Snare next, a foolish smile stretching her face. "Heya fly-bot. Wow! I didn't get a closer look at you earlier; you're so cute! Feel like a drink after?"
"Only if it's acid," Snare replied crisply. It took a moment to realize what he'd just said, but the Predator was decidedly unrepentant for his candidness despite the Autobots' stunned expressions.
Mouth twisting sideways, the femme punched away from the door, storming off down the hall and making a lot of noise as she did. The minibot made an awkward sound at his assistant's departure, turning a sympathetic smile to the flyer. "Sorry, she can be... very confrontational sometimes," he said. "I'm sure she won't stay mad forever. It's just a good thing you let her know ahead of time, so there's no troubles later on down the road."
It was the Predator's turn to stare at the Autobot incredulously. "I'm... I'm not staying," he mumbled. The engineer looked up from mixing his colours, his optics clearing displaying his disappointment. "Sorry. I just... can't."
"N-no, no, it's alright. You probably have somewhere else to return to," the minibot sighed, still smiling, though it had dimmed in vibrancy. "So, uh... you sure you want crimson red? I mean, I could give you a whole repaint. Maybe in a brighter colour too! Since, you're, uh, kinda dark..."
Snare didn't realize he'd started drifting in his thoughts. Shaking the daze off, he tried to recall the Autobot's question; shaking his helm again when he did. "No, just the wings. Thank you," he tacked on uncertainly. The minibot nodded, loading his spray-gun with the final paint mixture in silence, leaving the Predator to mull over his words.
iv.
Pedes slowly tapped down on metal, magnetic grips activating on silent command. Adjusting to a sense of weight after so many cycles weightless, it was kliks before the Predator moved, walking to the bulkhead's edge and sitting with his legs dangling over the side.
"You came back..."
"I did," Snare replied to the hushed comment.
"You were right," came the next miserable statement.
"No, I wasn't," the flyer dissented, turning his helm to the right. Along the edge a few meters from him, sat Impactor; the worn-down Wrecker staring off into the depth of space vacantly, an empty glass in his one servo. Seeing that the purple mech was giving him no attention, Snare turned his own gaze back to the stars, venting softly. "Back on Garrus-9, I... You were one of his favourites. He was set on saving you for after he'd finished with the others, knowing you'd make it worth it with everything you witnessed. I think that's why I turned to you."
"I heard the rumors, knew of your ferocity in battle. It was the sensible choice. Despite whatever reasons led to you being imprisoned by your fellow kin," Snare continued, "I believed you would send help for them once out. I never expected that you would actually come back as well."
Catching a hint of motion to his side, the Predator turned his helm back to Impactor, vocalizer fritzing for a moment as he caught the other's gaze. Rebooting it quickly, the flyer plowed forward, refusing to let himself fall quiet again. "I understand now what you're fighting against," he told the harpoonist, "But I know what I saw that orn as well. This thing can't control you if you don't let it."
It didn't seem as if his words had any effect though. The Wrecker sat there in silent misery still, staring at him intensely, his optics a dark amber. "Stay," he finally responded. "Please." The last part escaped in a broken whisper.
"On one condition," the smaller mech started, "Let me help you."
A quick, solemn nod.
"Then I will stay," Snare promised.
v.
"The next step is," the jet said, pausing when weapons clacked loudly together. He glanced up from his datapad, watching Impactor holster his weapons back in the hidden depository, waiting for his chance to continue, "Is to review your mission lineup."
The Wrecker grunted, throwing back a puzzled look.
"You've been selecting hunting missions specifically for several quartex now," Snare informed stoutly. "Don't give me that look," he added when Impactor turned around, a displeased scowl fixed on his face, "It's the truth. When was the last time you went out on a mission without the intent to slaughter Decepticons?"
"They deserved it," the purple mech growled.
The flyer sighed, trying to keep calm with the stubborn Wrecker. "I'm not going to advocate that many of my... that... faction are saints, but," he emphasized, "That doesn't mean you can be judge and jury. If you believe that you're always in the right to mete out justice, then you will never recover from this addiction. And if you won't help yourself first and foremost then I can't stay."
Impactor looked as if he was going to break out into an angry tirade just then, yet the harpoonist only clamped his mouth shut, venting heavily as the moment finally passed. "What do you propose?," he asked lowly.
"It's a big universe out there," Snare replied, "I'm sure we can find many ways to help. There's no need to seek out a fight first."
The Wrecker seemed dubious but he refrained from commenting on it. Turning back to the depository, he closed the doors and set on changing the passcode while the Predator scrolled through his notes. He was just about to speak again when he heard something at the bridge doorway. Intakes froze momentarily as he glanced up, finding Guzzle standing there silently. The minibot looked from Impactor at the wall, unaware of his presence, then to the jet. His optics narrowed into a glare immediately, the Autobot storming away before anything could be said.
Shooting a look at the oblivious harpoonist, Snare let his attention drop back down to his datapad, deciding to keep his doubts to himself for now.
C.M.D: Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?
