Title: Property Of
Rating: T (a few bad words from soldiers)
Summary: During Cybertronian 'peace,' ex-Cons hide the sentience of and sell humans as pets to secure Earth. Sam and Mikaela might just be the first to grasp the reality of the situation alongside their new owner.
Chapter: Inclusion
Thanks to Horser01 and PyroDea for pointing out my typos! I very much appreciate the continued effort.
No one had bothered trying to paint the picture as anything other than what it was: when the warehouse door opened and Donnelly came in with the patrol leaders following him, apprehension was tangible in the atmosphere. So much so, in fact, that Donnelly himself seemed briefly to question staying.
One after the other stepped in with informal greeting, each looking concerned in his or her own way, but still blissfully ignorant of the truth of the situation. They each found a place where they felt comfortable, and, waiting for an address, began to pass speculative looks around the room.
"Why weren't these two taken in yet?"
It was the first verbal acknowledgement Sam and Mikaela received from any of the four other patrol leaders as they joined Lennox. The question came from the only woman of the bunch, Karen Chun, and was asked with a suspicious lilt.
"I can't believe your team is hung up on a pair of teenagers. That's gonna look bad in the records," Clinton Howard, the only black patrol leader, took the opportunity to say with a grin. Not even his grin could hide his nervousness.
Apparently, calling together all sector patrol leaders out of the blue wasn't a very common practice.
"It ain't the kids we're hung up on," Epps mumbled, sharing a knowing look with Lennox.
"Well, then, what is it?" asked Emory Jordan, who dropped heavily onto a supply crate; Howard soon did the same. Jordan looked around at his fellow leaders then at the handful of Lennox's team that was there: Epps, Donnelly, and Togg. Finally, he glanced at Sam and Mikaela with that same look of 'I can tell there's something more to you' in his eyes. He turned back to Lennox after propping his leg up on the crate. "You didn't drag us out here just to say hello to them again."
"Not hello to them," Epps once more mumbled a comment that no one except for Lennox, Sam, and Mikaela (and presumably the mechs) was intended to hear.
Matthew Graham – whose British accent Mikaela had told Sam she found adorable, much to her boyfriend's consternation – was the only one who didn't direct his quietly suspicious gaze at the teens. Instead, he was eyeing the vehicles they sat near. Of the lot of them, Graham had worked with Lennox the longest. When he caught the captain's eye, the two stared at each other long and hard; Lennox gave the barest dip of his head in a half-nod, and Graham immediately sighed, closed his eyes, and raised his hand to rest it on the strap of his main gun.
"Going to give us some explanations, then?" he said aloud, tense yet still trusting. Chun, Jordan, and Howard all turned to him and began nodding. Unlike Graham, they hadn't yet guessed the reason behind the meeting – but they were still more than ready for an explanation.
Lennox turned partially, glancing more at the windshields of the transformed mechs than at Sam and Mikaela. When he turned back to face his fellow soldiers, he said seriously, "Our perimeter isn't as secure as we thought it was."
The pause that followed was laden with confusion.
"But the scanners…?" Chun began. "Did something happen to them?" Again, it was said with a guarded look passed to Mikaela and Sam.
"All of them except one are where they should be," assured Lennox, gesturing over to a chair with a partially dismantled scanner on it. "The thing is, they aren't foolproof. They can't necessarily pick up every mech that comes across them."
"And who told you that? We didn't get any memos," Howard said. His eyes began roaming warily of their own accord, as though expecting a sneak attack. He hadn't particularly liked the feel of this meeting when he first heard about it, and now…
"No one got any memos," Epps told him. "This news didn't come from the top."
"Then where did it come from? Unless one of you is a secret tech-scientist, that isn't the sort of information that suddenly up and comes to you in an epiphany," countered Jordan, voice rising in misplaced tension.
Already the apprehension was switching targets, moving from the silent (and nervous) teenagers to the silent cars. Graham's unwavering staring at the 'vehicles' in question probably helped fuel the others' quickly-changing suspicions.
"Firsthand experience," was Lennox's short, if strained, answer.
The responses were almost immediate.
"Oh hell no," Jordan followed up, shaking his head. When he finally stopped and fastened his eyes on Lennox, he was livid. "Hell no."
Howard tensed on his crate and inhaled sharply. "You better not be about to tell us what I think you're about to tell us," he warned.
Chun's attention snapped to the bright cars, and then she began searching amongst everyone's faces, pleading for them to say anything except for what the sudden shift in the room pointed towards.
The mood had degenerated at lightning pace. Lennox saw little point in dragging it out any further and letting the others get even edgier.
"There are two mechs inside the perimeter right now, and they aren't setting off a single scanner alarm."
"Or your own fucking alarms, apparently!" Howard shot right back. He was off of the crate in a split second, his whole body tense. His posture was mirrored in Jordan; Chun was too stunned to get up, and Graham continued to stare quietly. Once Howard was sure he had Lennox's full attention, he pointed angrily at the not-so innocent Camaro and Solstice. "Are you seriously telling us that you let two mechs in here? Not even just one, but two?"
"Are you insane? What were you thinking – what are you thinking?" Jordan demanded.
"Hey," Togg and Donnelly both began, defensively, coming out of their silent and lax positions.
"Can you guys calm the hell down for a minute?" Epps's voice rose above the rest. He suddenly had all the patrol heads' eyes – excluding Graham's – on him. He didn't speak for a second, instead giving them a moment to breathe. "How about you give us a minute to explain before you start looking for guns to shoot the place up? Fighting and screaming isn't gonna get anyone anywhere – we called you here for a reason, and I know we can be civil about this."
Protests were clearly begged to spring from both Howard and Jordan (and wow, Lennox had never noticed how similar their personalities were before), but they stifled them.
"Okay then," said Howard, straining to calm down from the rush of emotions that had unexpectedly surged in him. "What do you suggest, since you're so in-the-know?"
Clapping Epps on the shoulder in thanks for his help, Lennox said, "We didn't know the one was a mech until Sam and Mikaela showed up." He gestured at the individuals as he mentioned them. "They showed up with Big Yellow over here," he gave a backwards nod at the still-silent Camaro, "saying they'd been taken and sold to him as pets." Lennox paused and let the others make their expressions of disbelief. "They also said that the vast majority of mechs have no idea we're sentient, and the handful that managed to find out are as interested as we are in getting the ones who've been raiding Earth out of here." Another pause to let that sink in. Then for the bombshell that made him want to reveal this in the first place… "They know where my daughter is."
It was the first thing said that made Graham look away from the mechs. The newly informed soldiers' faces were a veritable sea of comprehension, pity, disbelief, and wariness.
"I think I trust them," said Lennox at last.
"Will…" Chun started, faintly shaking her head.
Graham cut her off. "Who are 'they,' exactly?" He gestured at the not-cars and shot Chun a disapproving look, casting the same expression briefly to the others. He hoped they understood – Lennox didn't need them tearing him down on accusations about being emotionally compromised right at that moment.
"Jazz and Bumblebee," Lennox said after a pause. When the not-cars dimly flashed their lights and swiped their windshield wipers at the mention, everyone either jumped or tensed. Lennox shot the Cybertronians an admonishing look over his shoulder; Jazz didn't respond, and Bumblebee sheepishly flickered his headlights. "I think you can guess which is which."
That, at least, worked a subdued snort out of Jordan. "Do they talk?"
"Yes," was Lennox's quick answer. With a slight frown, he said, "We told them not to unless you asked first, but the kids and them have a lot to say."
Behind him, Sam ducked his head self-consciously and Mikaela resorted to her nervous habit of drumming her fingers.
"And… changing, transforming? They transform too?" Chun hazarded. She'd only ever seen them as cars, and the silver one had been there for quite a while now. The idea that a mech could stay folded up like that for so long didn't seem possible.
"Yes. Same ground rule of not provoking anyone, though," agreed Lennox.
Heavy silence.
"Well?" said Howard after a rough exhale. "They gonna change so we can have ourselves a little chat? You could have gathered us anywhere else, and left them out of the picture entirely, if you planned on telling us this all by yourself."
"Yeah," Graham agreed suddenly. Face and voice firm, he said, "I want to see them – the actual them."
Neither Lennox nor his team had expected the others to want the mechs in their natural forms so quickly. But, Sam and Mikaela simply shrugged at him. "Fine. Just try and keep yourselves under control, alright? Last thing we need are bullets ricocheting around in here…" He glanced around at everyone, making sure he got a nod of agreement from everyone while the teens and his team backed away to give the ex-Autobots room. After four confirming nods, his attention swept to the Cybertronians. "Whenever you're ready."
Jazz moved first, his Earthen disguise shattering even as he rolled a few feet forward and away from Bumblebee; the latter lagged only by a second or two, and like Jazz, transformed even as he put distance between his former comrade and himself. The flurry of so many moving parts must have made it hard for any of the other four patrol leaders to focus, because before anyone knew it, there were two mechs standing in the warehouse, facing three partially-open-mouthed gapes and one nearly-blank face (courtesy of Howard).
Bumblebee immediately crouched, although whether that was more because of his discomfort at the staring or because he wanted to seem less threatening was anybody's guess. Beside him, Jazz was clearly resisting the urge to wave – settling instead on smiling and wiggling a few fingers – and was doing his best to wait for someone else to break the tension for once, like Lennox had requested ahead of time.
"You brought these in past security," breathed Chun. When Bee and Jazz both looked at her, she did her best not to flinch, and instead quickly shot her stunned eyes towards Lennox.
"And the safe point's still standing," Lennox agreed.
"Technically, this one's been here for over a month now," added Togg, gesturing vaguely at Jazz (who looked only slightly miffed that he'd only earned the title of 'this one' after the past few days). "Actually," the man went on, turning to the silver mech, "You never did tell us exactly how long you've been on planet."
Jazz pulled his head back. "Since I touched down?" He looked contemplative. "Roundin' a teeny bit, about two months, three weeks. A good bit a' time there was spent tryin' ta even find humans, and most a' it went into breakin' those fragging' firewalls our mutual enemies rigged the place with."
Nodding, Togg turned back to the others.
Sam and Mikaela were pretty sure they caught a satisfied smirk on his face. They understood why a moment later when, the ice apparently broken, Howard straightened.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, perfectly straight-faced.
Bumblebee's doorwings flexed involuntarily when he made to answer, but he found himself cut off.
"The long and short of it is this: mechs come from some planet that's a bajillion years old, there's been this war dividing them for a long freaking time, pretty recently they called a ceasefire, and the 'bots you see here used to be on one side of that war, while the ones who've been raining unholy terror on Earth are from the other side." Lennox paused for a second, as if realizing something. Which, evidently, he had, because he mumbled, "Huh. 'Bots – Autobots. How about that." Then he shook his head.
"Apparently, the baddies are a bunch of liars, too, 'cause they left more than half their population in the dark on the teeny tiny fact that we're sentient," he went on, "so in order to make the best of our resources, they've been destroying all the proof they come across that points to us being sentient, and selling us into domestication."
The pause that followed was broken by Jordan hesitantly asking, "So you're saying… that they take people to…?"
"To turn them into Christmas puppies, yeah," Lennox confirmed.
That phrasing confused Bumblebee, who looked concernedly at his humans. Mikaela shrugged and waved a hand dismissively, and Sam told him, "Don't worry about it."
Their side-interaction earned a few blinks.
"Whether you thought it was the truth or not, what possessed you not to take this up with us or the higher-ups the moment you found out?" asked Graham, yet without any accusing bite. He gave the mechs appraising looks, but ultimately turned his seemingly confident gaze back to Lennox (no one knew whether he was honestly that calm, or just that good at faking it).
"Because I know what would've happened if I went into the bureaucracy of it completely blind," Lennox answered simply. "Once the kids got us to stop shooting the first time, I didn't want to start again before we knew a thing or two – a chance we'd never get if this was turned over to the sector heads or settlement head right from the get-go." Then, almost warningly, "I'm still sort of trusting you guys not to run off and tell everyone unless there's a good reason to."
"You mean a better reason than the fact that, oh, I don't know, there's two mechs sitting in this warehouse?" Howard asked. "Putting aside the security of this specific safe point, if two mechs can fool safety scanners, then there's more out there who can. Who's to say the bad ones can't, if there's even such thing as good mechs and bad mechs? Isn't that something that someone should be told about?"
Jazz spoke up again. "Bee an' I are workin' on that." He gestured weakly at the table with the scanner. "The mods for foolin' the scanners ya' got rigged up aren't as common as you're probably thinkin' they are, but you're right, there's gotta be ex-Cons here with 'em."
"Ex-cons? Your ex-cons are doing this to us? Are you serious?" said an utterly disbelieving Chun.
Surprisingly, it was Bumblebee who was the first to correct, "Not ex-convicts, ex-Decepticons. Although I suppose most of the connotations you're probably coming up with apply aptly enough."
"And, uh, another pretty serious question here," Howard prefaced. "You said they know where Annabelle is. How does something like that happen?"
Here, Lennox grimaced. "I'm not entirely sure. Before you ask, yes, I realize how contrived that must sound – coincidences like that don't happen in real life, only orchestrated plans do – but I believe them. They have a picture of her, they sent a message just the other night… I don't know. I don't know," he admitted twice. "That's why I'm telling you this now, and not three days ago."
No one needed him to explain his reasoning.
"We all know the stories about hunters worming into safe points like this – we all know how those stories end. And, I'm pretty sure we all have that sinking sense of dread that this, right now, looks exactly like how those stories begin," the captain acknowledged. "There isn't anything concrete to back this up – and I know how against protocol it is – but I think we at least need to give them a chance. There's a lot more to explain about this, and I'm gonna step back and just let them answer your question," he said, his tone promising that it would be explained momentarily, "but I'd like to know that you don't all plan on running off and telling everyone without due cause. More due cause than the fact that they're here," Lennox amended when Jordan and Howard gave him a look.
The implied question hung in the air. Glances were exchanged amongst the four newly initiated leaders, more between the leaders and Lennox and Lennox's crew, a few between them and the teens, and one or two wary looks thrown the mechs' way.
"Bumblebee and Jazz, huh?" Graham said at length, eyeing the mechs.
"Yes, sir," said Bee.
"That'd be my lovely name," confirmed Jazz.
They stared silently for several seconds. Then, the English soldier gave the tiniest of smirks. "It's kind of strange that you picked 'Jazz.'"
The mech cocked his head. "How do ya figure?" His genuine curiosity was unmistakable.
Graham's amiable, semi-confident smirk grew wider, but not less hesitant. "If you were looking at musical names, I would've put my money on Techno or Heavy Metal."
In the silence that followed, no one knew how to react.
Then, just as Graham was beginning to wonder if he'd misjudged the situation, Jazz laughed. Or, at first he made a very strange grinding sound, and then he resorted to a few distinct chuckles. This prompted Bumblebee to raise his doorwings with otherwise silent merriment, and made Mikaela and Sam both smile.
"I think I can see why ya'd be inclined to say that," Jazz spoke cheerily, "but I also feel obliged t' say that ya shouldn't be makin' assumptions based on appearances. You got a sayin', don't ya? 'Don't judge a book by its cover'? In this case, a 'Bot? Jazz is way more my style."
Howard eyed the two mechs before announcing, "I don't know how standard of a practice it is for you guys to try and 'charm' yourself into your enemy's good graces, but if that's a military tactic, it seems like you've done your studying."
There was a blankness to the man's tone that made it hard to tell whether he meant to imply that the 'charming' was working on him, or simply that he thought he was 'on to them.'
Given the ambiguity, Jazz shrugged. "Can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult. So, I'm gonna act like it's a compliment. I prefer those."
Howard raised an eyebrow as if to sarcastically say, 'Yeah? I couldn't tell.'
Chun coughed. "Not that I didn't find Lennox's summary enlightening," she said with all sincerity, "but do you think we could backtrack a minute and have you tell us what the story really is?" her gaze flitted between the two Cybertronians. "No offense."
At the question, Sam and Mikaela visibly made themselves comfortable – exaggeratedly so. Bumblebee spared them an amused look.
"Sure," the scout said, though he paused while Lennox and his men followed the teens' lead and found places to sit. For what felt like the millionth time, he began, "See, a long time ago, Cybertronians went to war over a bunch of different issues, but most of it boiled down to different opinions on the value of organic life…"
"You'd think they thought we were systems-glitched with day-passes," the black and purple Seeker announced. Instead of speaking with irritation, however, there was a hint of pride and delight in the declaration.
Thundercracker didn't even stop walking. He barely gave Skywarp a sideways glance – one look at his partner's optics, scanning the street as though looking for a hapless 'bot to toy with, was enough – before dryly asking, "And who do you mean by 'they,' exactly?"
Right as he spoke, a blue-gazed mech stepped out of a building on their left. Skywarp grinned and waved energetically at the stranger. The stranger confusedly pulled his head in, and hesitantly raised a hand, giving it a few feeble shakes left and right, as though he didn't know whether he should wave back. This made Skywarp grin more. Thundercracker, on the other hand, vented tiredly and rolled his optics.
"Everyone."
He vented again. "Two things: one, I hardly think that assessment is fair. Most of the mechs we've come across have been perfectly fine with us. Two, any mechs who've thought that about you – let's not include me in that, okay? – clearly have good reason."
The darker ex-Decepticon looked over sharply. "Hmm? 'Clearly?' What are you trying to say?"
Third time was the charm. Thundercracker released a final vent of air. "We've only recently been granted access to Praxus – most 'bots are probably confused enough to see us here. Then you go and do things like that to them. How do you expect them to look at you?"
"Do things like what?"
"You've got to be kidding me," said Thundercracker, finally looking at his trinemate dead-on. Even then, though, he couldn't be certain whether Skywarp's question was serious. Just to be on the safe side, he elaborated (his voice traitorously inflected a hint of amusement), "Wave at them like they're your long-lost friends from before the war. Stare at everyone until you make them uncomfortable. Flirt with ex-Autobot femmes – badly, might I add. Pit, flirt with ex-Autobots period. You know, it took you half a breem to make Fireflight look like he wanted to have you committed – that's probably longer than I would've lasted in his position."
"Well, he did have a nice set of wings," Skywarp said defensively. Then he smirked, picturing the lone ex-Aerialbot's lovely white and red wings.
Okay, thought Thundercracker objectively, that was true. Skywarp was an idiot, but he wasn't wrong. That mech had sported a fair set of wings. But, wings were meant for flying, and, "He can't even use them properly – or do you not remember how horrible his flying was?" Pretty much every memory he had of that ex-Autobot was of him fragging up flight maneuvers.
"Yeah, but they're still pretty! Anyway, he might've gotten better since we last saw him. And either way, even you have to admit they looked perfect for grabbing and –!"
"Do you WANT to get us banned from this city?" the Seeker asked. They turned another street, and luckily, Skywarp didn't bother pausing in the conversation to confuse the pair of 'bots that passed them. "Harassing Prime's old subordinates is a pretty surefire way to make sure we're never allowed back in Praxus."
"Oh, come on! What's the point if you can't have a little fun?" insisted Skywarp. "The worst that could've happened was a rejection. The best that could've happened was getting a new berthmate for the cycle. You're always telling me to think things through – the benefits clearly outweighed the risks."
Although Thundercracker had hoped to stop sigh-venting after three exhales, he found himself doing so again. "I'd be impressed if you hadn't misjudged. The worst that could've happened wasn't a rejection – it was a write-up, a punch to the face, or both."
Skywarp gave an annoyingly infantile pout. They walked in silence for several paces before Thundercracker broke down and gave in.
"Maybe you should stick to propositioning retired Decepticons from now on, and give the former Autobots a break," he attempted to compromise.
That earned him a laugh, followed quickly by a punch to his arm and Skywarp leaning in suggestively. "See – you'd be as fine with picking someone up as I would, wouldn't you? It's not my fault the 'Bots seem like way more 'exotic' fare. Plus, they are fun to get a rise out of." When his trinemate gave him a pointed look, he mollified, "I promise I won't get us kicked out of the city."
"Or separated," added Thundercracker, almost in an undertone. "They're just looking for an excuse to split us up. As long as you don't give them–"
"What the frag is that?"
Skywarp's rough interjection made Thundercracker halt. Although 'Warp was pointing, Thundercracker didn't need the gesture; his optics caught quickly on a small figure darting straight for a pillar near the entranceway of a building (an information center, if the ex-Con wasn't mistaken).
The creature was small, clothed in bluish-gray, with yellowish hair. It was exceedingly organic. What it was doing out there was anyone's guess, since a cursory scan confirmed that there was no one else on the street at the moment.
"Was that what I think it was?" Skywarp managed in utter bewilderment.
Thundercracker didn't even have to answer. Skywarp had barely asked when the creature decided to poke its head out from behind the column and stare at them.
They stared right back.
The first time he'd done something for Optimus Prime, Miles had been outfitted with something meant to cloud his biosignature as well as a recording device. Also, something startlingly reminiscent of fluffy footie pajamas. The fashion designer behind that fascinating garment – a smallish, weird-as-hell mech named Perceptor – claimed that it was designed to minimize any sound made.
Personally, Miles thought it had a secret second function and doubled as a defensive garment. The way he saw it, he'd have ample time to run away while his foes laughed their mechanical butts off.
That had been an easy job. All he'd had to do was sneak around a few vents and then sit silently while some mechs spoke to one another. Plus, he'd been assured that there were several other footie-pajama'ed human tape recorders doing the same thing in different places, so Miles had had the comfort of invisible camaraderie.
The second job took place in what was, apparently, the alien capitol city. It involved another person, getting an ID chip (which the mechs had been hesitant to ask about, but which Miles was all for getting), and a very annoyed Prowl. It had been more nerve-wracking than the first assignment, to be fair, but Miles didn't think it warranted Prowl's level of apprehension (Miles had told the strategist that his overprotectiveness was adorable, although said strategist adamantly maintained that he was only exhibiting 'reasonable concern for his well-being').
Some blonde chick named Carly – who Miles, in a surprised stupor, had called "hot" the moment he saw her, only to have both Prowl and Perceptor tell him that she was precisely the temperature she should be – had gone with him. They were left at a type of daycare, which made more than enough sense given that both Prowl and Perceptor were supposedly there on business. At the pet-sitting place, they'd done some serious interviewing with the other humans – all inconspicuously, of course, so that the mechs watching over them (one Blue and one Red) didn't get suspicious.
This? The thing he was waiting to do as he sat tensely behind a pile of what seemed to be garbage? This was different.
He and Prowl had gone to a place called Praxus, which Prowl had been unusually distraught about. Apparently the mech had grown up there or something, and at one point it had pretty much been leveled – Prowl hadn't been all that clear, so Miles wasn't certain.
There were, Prime said, two mechs of particular interest to him that would be there.
Both were Reds.
Prowl hadn't been all that pleased about the proposal of direct, largely unmonitored interaction between the Reds and Miles, especially when Optimus explained who it was he was hoping to get a measure of: two Reds, one notable for purple on his frame and the other notable for blue, named Skywarp and Thundercracker. Both were fliers, apparently, although the ex-Autobots had called them something other than 'fliers' – Seekers, maybe? Miles couldn't remember.
After Prowl had had his perfectly dignified little fit, and after Miles had taken a deep breath and calmed himself, the teen announced that he'd be happy to go through with it. Well, maybe not in those exact words. Still, the point was that he'd agreed to do this despite some hesitancy, because he didn't think that the ex-Bots were going to put him in any overly dangerous situations right off the bat.
Now, however, he had some doubt. He'd been waiting for the pair of ex-Decepticons to wander this way for some time now, and when they finally did show up – turning onto the street with a flurry of speech – he felt himself go somewhat numb.
Miles stared at the two sizeable red-gazed mechs and began to question his resolve. Thus far, he hadn't been asked to interact with any mechs. He'd been wary enough about the request right from the beginning (Prowl still hadn't been okay with it last he checked, and Miles imagined that the stoic 'bot was fretting somewhere even at that moment), and the sheer size of these two in person didn't help to settle any fears.
Just like Prime had said, one was mostly black with large purple swaths sweeping across his broad-backed (winged?) frame, along with gray and silver internals appearing sparingly. The other – whose body was similar enough that Miles might have thought them twins – was mostly blue with accents of black, deep gray, and white, also with silvery internals. Both had the exact same shade of piercingly red optics.
They exuded familiarity with one another. The way they walked, the way the purplish one hit and bumped the other without getting reprimanded for it, and the way they gestured as they spoke (even though the gestures and the speech were lost on him) made it obvious that they had a history together.
In a way, it reminded Miles of him and Sam… and that was the only reason he managed to climb to his feet and prepare for his dash for the stairs of a nearby building.
The mechs grew steadily closer and closer, and Miles felt his pulse pick up in preparation, until they were almost three-quarters of the way down the street, and then…!
He made his move. Speedily and low to the ground – refusing to acknowledge the pair of Cybertronians – he hastened across the street to hide behind a decorative pillar. Miles was just stepping behind the silver-white column when he heard the exclamation; one mech said something short and rough, and then both sets of feet stopped moving.
First step completed. He'd been spotted. To confirm, he poked his head around the column. Miles tried not to recoil when he saw both imposing figures staring at him.
None of the three was willing to make the next move for some time. In the end, it was Black-and-Purple – who Miles was pretty sure was the one they'd called Skywarp, which left Blue-and-Black to be Thundercracker by default – who took a trepid step nearer.
Playing the role of so many a squirrel that he'd chased as a child – oh, who was he kidding? That he'd chased days before leaving Tranquility – Miles darted for the next column to hide behind and again peeked out hesitantly around it.
That got a reaction from the mechs. Both gave hushed exclamations, but only Thundercracker bent down; Miles reflexively went to duck away, although he managed to stop himself. The urge to bolt continued to strengthen as Skywarp came in close to his friend and made as if to get even closer to Miles, but the second mech growled something and extended a hand to block any attempts to get near the human.
Miles stared, trying to comprehend.
After a short while, the blue mech began enticing him with a coaxing hand: two claw-like yet dulled fingertips rubbed together while an index finger beckoned, set to the background noise of a low and thundering rumble that must have been the mech's version of a coo or purr. Briefly, Miles wondered if that was where the mech's name had come from, and then he decided that it was highly unlikely that a mech would be named after his purring abilities.
Against his instincts, the blonde teen made his way towards the pair of unfamiliar mechs, not even having to fake the caution and hesitance in his stance and pace.
"What if I…?"
"Stop," Thundercracker warned. The human twitched at the purplish mech's step forward, and Thundercracker immediately pictured the wayward creature darting off. He didn't want the thing running around dehydrating and starving (seriously – the last place an organic like a human wanted to get stranded was on an abiotic world), but he also didn't know if he cared enough to drop his dignity and go chasing after a human if it fled.
"But... but it's a human!" protested Skywarp.
Thundercracker shot him a look. "I can see that. Don't approach it, or you'll only make it run away quicker."
It looked clean enough, however. Perhaps it was an escaped pet? If that was the case, maybe it could be enticed forward.
Thundercracker eased into a crouch and dropped both hands to the ground, ignoring Skywarp's questioning clicks and shuffling. He braced himself lightly on several fingers and extended the other arm, imitating the soothing lull once used to calm sparklings as he brushed his fingers invitingly together.
"Do you honestly think that's gonna convince it to…? Slag, it's really working!" Skywarp said, first incredulous and then excited. The human was actually inching out from its shelter, making its way towards them one cautious step at a time.
The closer it got, the more excited Skywarp became. Every step seemed to make his internals whir faster, until it was only a few arms lengths away, and he thought he was going to explode. The step he took forward was completely involuntary. Regardless, his absentmindedness was quickly reprimanded.
"Primus, 'Warp, back off. The thing's scared; it doesn't need you crowding it," said Thundercracker, holding his arm out and making sure his wingmate got the message about not scaring the human into fleeing. The creature was more than ready to bolt, and looked warily between the pair of them. When Skywarp crouched behind his partner, the yellow-haired human tensed, and for a moment Thundercracker feared it was finally going to sprint away.
"Hey there, human," he rumbled, trying to shove his wingmate out of his mind to focus on the human and make the best of this second chance they'd been given. Thundercracker continued to beckon with a finger, but made no attempt to move his hand closer to the alien. "Did you lose your owner? That's right, just come over here…" When the human took a few more steps, the ex-Decepticon grinned in triumph.
The closer the human became, the more both mechs believed it was male. Skywarp chirruped next to him, "What makes you think he has an owner? He doesn't have any ID bands."
Said human hesitated and stared at Skywarp.
/ Stray humans are rare, / the blue mech said over their comm., hoping not to alarm the human any further, and hoping Skywarp would get the hint. / And look at how groomed he is. The fact that he's even coming over suggests he's familiar with mechs. Ergo, 'Warp, he's not feral. /
/ But he's taking his sweet time, ain't he?/ countered Skywarp.
/ I'd be wary about coming near your ugly mug, too, / Thundercracker taunted, but his spark wasn't really in the jest. Neither, for that matter, was his focus. The human was growing ever closer… "Just a little more…"
Once he was within grasp, Thundercracker steadily began to shift his hand into a grabbing position. Each movement was slow and measured and gave the organic every chance to show his discomfort (although, at this point, the ex-Con was pretty sure he'd be able to snatch the human up even should he decide to bolt at the last second).
Thankfully, the human never bolted. Instead, he merely stiffened a little when large fingers curled around him, and inhaled sharply when a second hand lowered to scoop him up.
"There we have it," said Thundercracker victoriously. He made sure the human was secure before standing. "He's pretty tense… wonder why he'd come over here if he was so scared?"
"Desperation?" Skywarp chimed thoughtfully. First he gave Thundercracker a shrug, and then turned his attention to staring at the wayward human.
Thundercracker studied the alien in his hands, for once thankful that Skywarp could be a distracting menace. It allowed him to study his fill, noting the clean protective garments, the groomed cranial hair, the lack of visible injuries, and the disappointing lack of any identification marker.
"What's Praxus's bulletin frequency, do you know?" queried Thundercracker, earning an upside-down stare from the human. Not that it would be difficult to sort quickly through the airwaves to locate it, but…
"Yeah, I know it – and I just checked. There aren't any notifications about missing humans," Skywarp informed him. "Just a reminder to exhaust ID chips first. Um, did we exhaust ID chips?"
Thundercracker, frowning, turned to Skywarp. "I forgot about those."
"Me, too. I don't remember the viewer code for those, though," Skywarp warned.
With a wave, the blue flier dismissed, "That's okay – I do. Here, I'll activate it over a bond signal so you can read, too," with a roll of his optics at the way Skywarp deflated when he thought he would be barred from accessing the chip.
The two mechs' signals aligned on a shared frequency, and then Thundercracker turned his attention to the human. A quick scan revealed that, yes, the creature had a chip, and moments later, the information was flitting through their processors: designation, store of purchase (oddly, left blank), owner's address, and owner's name…?
"Prowl?" they both spoke at once.
Skywarp blinked. "As in, used-to-be-the-Autobot-second-in-command? That Prowl?"
Optics narrow in thought (and was he just imagining things, or did that make the human more nervous?), Thundercracker wracked his memory banks. "I don't know any other Prowls out there. The mech was Praxian, too – sort of makes sense he'd be in Praxus."
"He doesn't live here," Skywarp refuted. "Last I checked he lived in one of the colonies. Verita… Verita Pax? I think that's what it was called."
"Well, then, maybe he moved. Or maybe he's just visiting. A mech's entitled to travel once in a while. I know I'll be back in Vos every chance I get once it's livable again," he reasoned. Surely the ex-Autobot SIC had earned a vacation or two, although chances were that if this human's Prowl and the ex-Autobot Prowl were the same mechs, the 'bot was here for business.
Actually, that might even explain why there were no missing human notifications. Prowl was probably so busy that he hadn't noticed his human was missing yet. Especially if the human – Quirk, the chip supplied – had been lodged at a daycare or something, it was feasible that no one had noticed his absence.
"Are you gonna message him, or am I?" asked Skywarp, reaching out a talon of a finger and rubbing the human's head fluff.
"I got it," Thundercracker answered quickly. Not giving his wingmate any more time to potentially open a channel and tick the ex-Autobot off, Thundercracker opened his communications and accessed the personal frequency listed on the ID chip. He pinged with a sense of urgency as well, hoping that would ensure an answer in spite of the no doubt suspicious identification of his own unfamiliar frequency.
Whether it was the urgent pinging or not, there was an answer in mere moments.
/ You are comming one of Prime's liaisons, and head of mediation, strategic planning, and human affairs in Verita Pax, Prowl. Who is this? / was the clipped response.
/ Thundercracker, / the Seeker said, blinking.
There was a distinctive pause. / Yes? What can I do for you? /
/ Nothing, / he said plainly. And, while Thundercracker definitely detected suspicion in the absent mech's mental tone, he didn't blame him. / Skywarp and I are visiting Praxus right now, and we found a human whose tag says he's yours. Name's 'Quirk.' /
The second pause didn't last nearly as long. / I am in Praxus on business; Quirk was entrusted to a temporary caregiver. His caregiver did not inform me he had gotten out. /
/ We figured, since there's no notice posted about him yet. How long until you can come get him? /
/ Where are you? /
Thundercracker looked needlessly around. / We were heading to an energon café. Do you know where Hydraulic's is? /
/ Yes. /
/ We'll go there and stay until you arrive, / said Thundercracker.
This time the pause was contemplative. / The meeting I am in will end shortly. It will take me approximately five breems to reach that location. /
It was Thundercracker's turn to pause, though only to divert his attention to yanking the human away from Skywarp, who was now making grabs at him. / We'll be there. /
/ Very well. Thank you for notifying me, / Prowl said.
The line was closed before the ex-Con could transmit a 'you're welcome.'
Thundercracker, taken aback, blinked. "That was rather rude."
"He cut the channel on you?" asked Skywarp.
"Yes."
The purple mech snickered, and not entirely pleasantly. "He probably thinks we're gonna do something horrible to his human. Now, can I hold him?" He'd tired of trying to pry the human away.
One glance at the nervous human convinced Thundercracker that, "No, I'm not letting you hold him. You probably will do something horrible to him."
"That's a low blow," Skywarp said.
"Play with him when we get to the café," returned Thundercracker, starting to walk in demonstration.
Skywarp quickly followed after, taking several double strides to sidle up next to his partner again.
As if to prove Thundercracker wrong, Skywarp remained perfectly silent and well behaved for the breem it took to get to the eatery. He didn't once make another motion towards Quirk, although he did send the human several covert and not-so-covert glances.
Hydraulic's was another story. The very instant they stepped through the doorway, Skywarp said, "I can't believe we found Prowl's human! Can you imagine what Megatron would say about two of the Command Trine babysitting the Autobot SIC's human?"
All at once, Thundercracker started laughing (perhaps because he now knew for a fact that Skywarp had been ready to burst with the comment for over a breem now). "I imagine the first thing he'd say would be along the lines of, 'What the frag is that disgusting organic you've found?' Probably something about the Autobots having a filthy organic infestation shortly afterwards, followed by a prompt squishing of our new little buddy. That, or a plot for ransoming him."
Skywarp considered that while they situated themselves at an empty table. Quirk was placed gently on the tabletop, where he looked suddenly pathetic in Thundercracker's humble opinion. The latter felt bad for a moment that there wouldn't be any food to give the alien, or any properly sized containers to give him water.
"Sounds about right," the purple mech conceded. "Bet Megatron's spitting sparks in the Well."
Thundercracker gave a snorting "tch" in agreement, then left to get two cubes of energon. Once he was unattended, Skywarp turned triumphantly towards the human, who leaned away under the scrutiny.
"Break for freedom, huh, squishy?" asked 'Warp conversationally. He inched his hand out, walking his fingers across the table until he finally reached out and poked Quirk. The human reflexively gave him a tiny swat. "Too bad. Well, not too bad, I guess. It can't be easy to survive on an inorganic planet when you're an organic; it's a good thing TC and I saw you." Another poke, and another swat. Skywarp grinned and purposefully tousled the human's hair, petting roughly yet still affectionately.
"What are you doing now?" interrupted Thundercracker, reappearing with two cubes.
Stopping to grab a cube, Skywarp eyed the now-disheveled alien. "Playing. He wasn't putting up an actual fight, so I figure he must've liked it."
Thundercracker resisted the urge to snort. While the yellow-haired human didn't look all that upset, he certainly didn't look pleased. The blue mech took his seat, and for a few moments, the pair of ex-Decepticons refueled under the curious gaze of Quirk.
At length, Skywarp asked in something of a whine, "Why don't we have a human?"
"Plenty of reasons," was the quick answer.
This time the whine was stronger – enough so to make Quirk blink in confusion. "I want one – let's get one. No, let's get two – one for me and one for you, and that way they could be friends!"
"Oh no, 'Warp. You're barely mature enough to take care of yourself, let alone a helpless organic."
Skywarp frowned, although playfully. "What's with the personal attacks today? Did I kick you during recharge or something?"
"You're just being stupider than normal is all," Thundercracker replied with a smirk.
They continued to sip energon quietly for a bit. It was clear that Skywarp wanted to be doing all sorts of things with Quirk, who was just sitting there awkwardly, but that even the prankster realized it was unwise to risk setting the human off when Prowl would be there shortly to collect him. Thundercracker was about to applaud his partner's restraint… and then he halted, noticing the strange expression on Skywarp's face. He couldn't help but grow uneasy.
"What? What is it?"
"You know," Skywarp began tentatively, possibly sensing that he was about to provoke a negative reaction, "humans always make me think of 'Screamer."
The predominantly blue mech stiffened; Quirk picked up on it and instantly tensed as well. Realizing that he was the cause, Thundercracker forced himself to relax his frame. He could not, however, mask the tension in his voice. "I'm sure they do." And he was sure. Skywarp almost always got a distant look when humans passed by. Initially Thundercracker had thought that was because Skywarp really wanted one, but in time, he realized it was because of a certain conspiracy theory regarding their absent trinemate and the humans' native planet…
"Don't you wonder sometimes? You said you didn't, but don't you have to? Whether the rumors are true, I mean."
"I don't care," Thundercracker shot down. He tried to distract himself by petting the unsettled human. "No matter how many times you ask, my answer's not going to change. He's gone – as good as dead."
"But the rumors!" insisted Skywarp. Though he wasn't a huge fan of the ex-Air Commander at the moment, he didn't understand the unspoken tension his remaining trinemate always felt when Starscream was brought up. "Maybe he's still alive somewhere, and–!"
Thundercracker growled, making both Skywarp and Quirk pull away from him. "And all that would mean is that he abandoned us. That would mean he's sitting somewhere, purposefully blocking our bond and leaving us to fend for ourselves while worrying about him, like some slagging…" He stopped and sighed. "I don't want to see him again, I don't want to think about it again, and I don't want to talk about it, 'Warp. I mean it."
"…Fine," Skywarp struggled to say at length. Like Thundercracker, he looked for distraction in the human, already regretting bringing Starscream up. First, he tried to get Quirk to react to a series of laser lights projected across the table surface, but when the only reaction seemed to be that of confusion and disbelief rather than excitement or playfulness, he instead worked on trying to coax the Earthling closer by waggling his fingers on the table.
This futile game went on for a full two and a half breems, with Skywarp making odd observations and comments here and there ("I wonder if they can feel their hair growing," "What do you think they'd do if we took them flying," "I wonder how well he'd hold up warping with me,", "Do you think we could breed them to have purple bodies?" and the like).
Discounting battles and pranks, Thundercracker was pretty sure it was the most attention and patience the mech had paid to a single task probably in his whole life. In fact, Skywarp was still giving it his all (even though all he'd managed to do was plant a permanent teeth-baring on the human's face, whatever that meant) when the storefront beeped at the entrance of a new customer.
The two ex-Cons looked up. Had they been looking, they would've seen Quirk spin around, too.
A black and white mech came stiffly through the front door, practically oozing tension and single-mindedness.
"Hey," Skywarp called out.
In the middle of scanning the shop, the mech spun.
It was the Prowl they remembered, alright. He was distinctly apprehensive as he approached them, attention more than obviously focused on trying to ascertain the condition his human was in. Funnily enough, Quirk more or less mimicked his owner's actions, staring intently at the newcomer in unmistakable recognition.
"We don't know how long he's been out, but as far as Skywarp and I can tell, he's not injured or anything," said Thundercracker in place of a greeting, because it seemed prudent to allay the mech's worries before anything else. He sat straighter as Prowl drew up in front of their table.
Prowl met the blue Seeker's optics. "Thank you," he said plainly, neither overly pleasant nor unpleasant. If anything, the ex-Bot looked like he was trying to figure the two fliers out… which made Thundercracker shift uncomfortably and give an incredulous expression. Prowl carefully took Quirk into his hands and held him close. "You did not have to keep him with you, nor did you have to contact me. I appreciate the courtesy."
"Courtesy?" repeated Skywarp, both confused and more than a little offended.
"I think what Skywarp means," Thundercracker said testily, shooting his wingmate a warning look to calm down, "is that it's a little disappointing that you'd think we'd leave a creature to starve, or knowingly keep someone else's human."
There were no outward signs that Prowl felt guilty about implying such. He merely tightened his hold on Quirk, and paused for one long, thoughtful moment before responding, "I will admit that perhaps your most recent actions would have been more logical to base my assumptions on." Then, he nodded once. The motion was slight and strange, but unmistakably approving.
Fully understanding – and not wanting a hot-headed Skywarp to jump in – Thundercracker acquiesced, "I see where you might have gotten that first impression. For better or worse, we've changed since our trine's foremost member up and deserted us. For better, I hope," he said, with only the barest hint of remorse. The open admission seemed to surprise Prowl, if the tiny flaring of his sensory panels was any indication. "You know, if you don't have anywhere to be right away, 'Warp and I wouldn't mind sharing a cube of energon with you."
That had an even greater reaction. Prowl visibly drew back. Thoughts were obviously swirling in his processors (and aw, wasn't it cute that Quirk looked worried?).
"I would not wish to intrude," he said at length.
"Nonsense. Seekers like doing things in threes; have a seat," insisted Thundercracker, actually a tad giddy at the prospect of being able to endear their trio-turned-duo to a mech as close to Prime as this – another opportunity to build those bridges and those chances for redemption and privileges. Next to him, Skywarp also seemed eager to share a conversation, although the gleam in his optics suggested the eagerness stemmed from a very different – and very futile – motivation, thought Thundercracker with an optic roll.
Prowl, to their surprise, immediately relented. Any other time, and they might have thought persuading him had been too easy. "Very well. I have several more breems before I have anything scheduled."
With that, Quirk was set back onto the table to the human's clear confusion, and Prowl took a seat.
The only perfectly shared thought at that table was that the following conversation – whatever it might be – was bound to be memorable.
How much longer could he hope to keep this quiet?
Optimus found this question more pressing than ever before.
He had decoded Jazz's transmission two cycles prior, and, having spent a cycle encoding it, finally sent his reply. Neither the incoming nor outgoing transmission had been easy on his processors. The former had borne promising news about the advancements Bumblebee and Jazz were making with the local humans, even if their progress was only small-scale at the moment. Intermixed, however, was the startling coincidence that, of the reported billions of humans that dwelled on Earth, one of the ones they encountered was the sire of Ironhide's human youngling.
It would have been quite the coincidence, thought Prime, if he was inclined to believe in such things as coincidences. His eons of experience led him to believe that very little, if anything, was ever a coincidence.
Ironhide had not reacted all that favorably to the news, and had demanded to know what the next step was.
Given the urgency Jazz placed on that portion of the message, there was really only one step that could possibly be taken…
Sending Ironhide to Earth – and by extension, Ratchet, since the medic was one of the only ones besides himself who could keep the black mech temperate and manageable no matter the situation – was bound to raise some suspicions.
But, Optimus reflected, the time for worrying about that was likely up.
His resolve strengthened the more he thought about it, regardless of his many lingering worries: it would not be long before Ratchet and Ironhide conceded to his request and joined Jazz and Bumblebee on Earth, and should Swindle or another take issue with it, he would have to deal with the repercussions when they came.
And he would deal with them, swiftly and firmly. No matter the state of the disbanded factions, he would be an Autobot at spark until the day he offlined, and his spark-deep Autobot morals would scarcely let him do otherwise, even if he'd wanted to.
Perhaps it was time to have a talk with the head of the human trade one-on-one.
A.N.
Both this story and my life have sort of been fighting me lately. A good part of that is due to my scholar program 'tactically' piling on its added work 'before' finals (aka, in the time period that final projects and papers – not the tests themselves – are being handed out, which in turn means that I'm never given any break from my workload right up through the finals themselves, much to my chagrin).
But, like I always say, never fear; I have not died, and updates will always be forthcoming. As soon as both time and inspiration allow, there will always be a next chapter.
Hopefully some of the grander messages imbedded in the Thundercracker/Skywarp bit are apparent to people, subconsciously or not, and you don't just think I threw that giant piece in here out of nowhere… (and by the way, way to go for the correct guess, PyroDea – even if you doubted yourself about it).
Thanks, all, for still sticking with me, and for being lovely people and reviewing!