Fallout
"Creativity"
By Nan00k

Apologies for the lateness. I've been having a hell of time the last few days and writing has just not reached the top of my priority list unfortunately. D: Thanks for the assistance here, Shantastic!

Thundercracker is amazed at what the human imagination and skill can create. Note: the first segment is after Introductions Part 2, the second is post-Stripes, the third is before TC, Jazz and Rachel meet up with Wheeljack and Danny. Not the most exciting chapter (though a surprising amount of insight into TC's mind…), but just wait until next week~

On an unimportant note, we are officially halfway through the story!

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Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks. The original characters in this story are mine, however.
Warnings: character death, violence, foul language, disturbing imagery

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It was a monotonous morning, just like the last. Thundercracker didn't mind the mundane, however, unlike his more adventurous mate. The only thing that was seemingly out of the norm was the fact that Jazz and Rachel weren't at the camp. Thundercracker had barely spent a few clicks online before Jazz informed him that he and Rachel were going to get water for the humans. The river was just down the hill, so they shouldn't be gone long. It was still peculiar to sit there in the lazy silence his remaining two companions created.

Thundercracker had thought it dangerous to welcome Wheeljack and his adopted kin, the child called Danielle, into their group. Larger numbers attracted more attention from the drones. Then again, Wheeljack's invention of an energon converter had saved the mechs from needing to use the less effective and far more corrosive human gasoline.

They weren't unbearable company, he had to admit. Danielle—or Danny, as she now insisted on being called—was good company for Rachel (or at least provided a nice distraction). Thundercracker had expected the Autobot to be harder to handle, but Wheeljack was always very polite. He was a nervous mech, but he never antagonized or tried to bother the Decepticon jet. In return, Thundercracker also left him alone.

On this particular day, Wheeljack was tinkering with spare parts again and Danny was sitting on her bedding, distracting herself with some toy that Thundercracker assumed she had taken from a city. Rachel did that sometimes, though mostly with books or writing implements. Danny seemed far simpler in her tastes, not going for books as much as she went for colorful plastic things Jazz told him were entertaining for younglings.

Thundercracker wasn't sure what drew him to observe the humans most times. Boredom perhaps. Or just curiosity. He had spent eons observing mechs, and from Starscream he had learned to take in new sights and appreciate them, to learn from them—all for science, of course. He had spent time watching the human military units during the war, identifying their tactics and weaknesses. And during the time he had spent with Rachel, and now Danny, he'd come to realize that if watched long enough, humans would never fail to do something strange that he would either learn from or be left to dwell on in confusion until his processors threatened to overheat.

Danny was definitely more… interesting than Rachel was, both habit-wise as well as in her physique. Until he'd met her he'd had no idea humans came in multiple skin tones; Rachel was quite white and pink while Danny was a light brown color. This small human held entire conversations with herself, constantly asked questions, and seemed very intent on wearing as little clothing as possible. Rachel always complained about the cold, so she wore clothing to an opposite degree. Thundercracker sat there, pondering their differences (both physical and otherwise), as Danny fumbled with her toy, picking up a stick—

And then, she began to malfunction.

Thundercracker flinched as a series of strange sounds drifted up from the child, who was aimlessly scribbling into the dirt with the stick now. He focused his audio receptors to try to distinguish any intelligent message in the mumbling the human was making, but it was almost impossible. She had a strange pitch to her voice as the noise continued.

An uneasy feeling entered Thundercracker's chestplates. "Wheeljack," he said, looking up at the mech, speaking their own language.

The Decepticon in his spark chuckled darkly as the Autobot scientist flinched at the sound of his name being spoken. Thundercracker knew Wheeljack was still very nervous, even afraid, of him. It had only been about three months since the five of them had joined forces. Thundercracker wasn't sympathetic to the Autobot scientist's concerns. He wasn't going to hurt either him or the Danielle child, but he didn't mind a healthy fear of himself.

"Ah—yes?" Wheeljack stuttered, giving Thundercracker a wary and frantic look. He had been working blindly on some invention that had to do with weather prediction. As much as it could have been useful, it was still pointless to work on something they all knew wouldn't work from just spare parts.

"Your sparkling is damaged," Thundercracker replied, bluntly. He glanced downward at Danny, who remained oblivious to the attention.

Panic was abruptly etched into the other mech's faceplates. "What? !" Wheeljack exclaimed. He dropped his tools and quickly set his optics on the child, probably analyzing various medical scans of her. "She's… she hasn't moved since I last looked. What's wrong?"

Rumbling darkly, Thundercracker gestured at the human youngling. "Listen to its noise," he snapped. It was an obvious defect.

Wheeljack stared at Danny for a tense moment, optics blazing. Then, suddenly, he sat back, nearly limp with relief. "…Oh." Turning to Thundercracker, the mech suddenly made an amused sound. "She's not malfunctioning, Thundercracker. Thank you for alerting me, however."

Thundercracker snarled. "What the slag do you mean its not malfunctioning?" he demanded. "That's not even English."

Earfins flashing innocently, Wheeljack tilted his head. "She's making up words to go with a song," he explained simply.

Something was severely off about that conclusion. "…What the frag?" Thundercracker demanded.

The amusement never once left Wheeljack's optics or tone. "Danny enjoys singing, just for fun," he said in English, shrugging. Thundercracker knew the mech had picked up human habits for the benefit of his charge, but it was awkward for mechs as large as they both were to pull off those movements. "Sometimes she likes to make up her own lyrics for things. Not all of it is intelligible, but it's harmless."

That… made absolutely no fragging sense. It was worse than Rachel's incessant need to have clothing on at all times and her subsequent freaking out if any of the mechs peeked by accident as she was changing. Thundercracker wanted to ask for a more concise answer, but metal creaking and heavy footsteps alerted him to Jazz and Rachel's return.

"Ooooh, I love music!" Jazz exclaimed, sweeping into the scene and conversation from out of nowhere, Rachel at his side. After placing the bucket of water next to the fire, he plopped down on the ground with an astonishingly fluid motion, settling right next to Danny, who finally looked up in surprise at her new audience. "Whatcha doin', Danny?"

While initially timid of both new mechs, Danny had warmed up especially fast to Jazz. "I'm drawin'," she replied, confident.

"I see," Jazz said, smiling brightly. He was a complete idiot, Thundercracker thought darkly. "You listenin' t' music?"

Danny, biting her lip, nodded. She seemed completely focused on doing the same nothing she had been doing for the last twenty minutes. "Yup."

Grinning, Jazz continued to provoke the conversation. "I didn't know ya had a music player," he said pleasantly. Rachel rolled her eyes and got the water boiling for their lunch. "What're they called, MP3 players?"

"I dunno," Danny mumbled. She held up the gray device that, apparently, played music for the child. "'Jack found one and fixed it for me. I have all sorts of songs." Smiling, she held up the wired part of the player. "Want to listen?"

Jazz laughed, pushing up from the ground. "I doubt it'll fit my audio receptors, but thank ya kindly, Danny," he said. "You sing along t' th' songs?"

"Yeaaah, but this song isn't in English," Danny said, scrunching up her face. "I think… maybe it's German."

"Cooool," Jazz said, grinning, encouraging. "Did 'Jack ever let ya listen t' some of th' good stuff like The Beatles—?"

Danny's love of music was more than just a passing hobby or distraction. She used the device often, sometimes even walking with it, humming nonsensically with the words coming from the tiny speakers. She'd offer it to Rachel sometimes, but the paler human was hesitant to wear the speakers, since it blocked one of her most important senses. Thundercracker had felt a strange flare of pride; his youngling might not enjoy music as much, but at least she had better self-preservation instincts.

And then a few years later Danny burst out into song one morning and, quite unexpectedly, sounded… quite good.

"Vhatttt is that?" Wildrider demanded, optics huge. Thundercracker had stopped dead at the new sounds. These were not the sounds of malfunction. They were… uniform. Elevated. Coherent. A song.

"Singing!" Danny exclaimed, twirling around dramatically. Yes, she was Jazz-incarnate. Thundercracker was immensely glad Rachel took after him instead of his mate.

"I didn't know you were that good, kid!" Jazz exclaimed. Even Rachel clapped, amused. "Nice job."

Danny made another sound—a familiar one this time. Thundercracker knew it was the child's way of laughing. A giggle, Jazz had called it. "I didn't know I could do it either," she said, with another giggle. She scrolled through the list of songs, ready to try again. "Hmmm. Let's see. I really like this one song. It's all about stairs and a place called heaven."

She sang whenever there was reason to, or rather, whenever there wasn't a reason. When someone was upset or there was a bad day in general, Danny would do her best to cheer up the most solemn member of their group, by singing a silly song, or just humming something comforting. When Goddard was killed, she spent many nights humming Barnaby to sleep.

Thundercracker had never expected something like the production of a few simple tones in a fairly limited frequency range to have an emotional affect on anyone. Then again, even he sometimes felt his spark tremble when a particular song—human songs had the most sentimental lyrics he had ever heard—struck a nerve with him.

He didn't understand it overall. Certainly, he had his own appreciation for music, but on Cybertron the production of music had been reserved for musicians. It required specific programming and vorns of apprenticeship to become a musician. It seemed that humans broke all kinds of rules, however, or at least the rules that had applied to the mechs. Apparently humans didn't need specific programming to create or appreciate music, or maybe they came with the programming coded already. Perhaps Danny's parents had been musicians. They would never know for certain, so he let it drop. It didn't help to try to figure out every quirk the humans possessed.

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The other three humans also had skills. Barnaby was a powerful talker. Not like Megatron or Starscream, whose wicked vocalizers could stir up political revolt or intrigue. No, Barns was just a "people-person" as Jazz called it. The boy could talk anyone into comfort, even enemies. He could make anyone laugh, even the stoic Arcee. When they had first met, it hadn't taken long for Thundercracker to realize that the boy had the potential to rival Jazz when it came to the art of conversation, after all he had been the one to convince Vortex to stay with him and Goddard. And over the years Barns had probably single-handedly saved their group from dissolving many, many times. But for all his ability to speak well and persuasively, he'd never impressed Thundercracker as being very creative. Not in the same way as the other humans had.

Kass was also very logical in her thought processes, and she had easily hidden away her gift for art under her matter-of-fact mechanic's attitude. The others had not discovered her gift until rather late in their group's formation. The incident with Wildrider's paint job was never far from their minds when Kass brought out a piece of paper to sketch on, or her artistic skills were mentioned in passing. Mostly, Thundercracker assumed they kept it to themselves, as he did, instead of torturing the sensitive girl about her artwork.

He had never paid much attention to art on Cybertron. It was a small thing, even less important to the military builds than music had been. The common consensus among his kin and brethren had been that it did nothing for the well-being of the empire. It was for recreation only, enjoyed mainly by wealthy elites who had been brought online with, or been upgraded to have, the proper programming. Kassandra, apparently, had the programming.

She could draw anything, or at least, that was how it seemed. Plant life and scenery were common targets for her sketches. Sometimes she drew her human friends ("Bluestreak, sweetie, you're a giant robot. I'm not sure my skills could handle that right now.") When the teasing was either cut off or faded away, her audience would sit amazed at what her hands and meager tools of charcoal and pencils could create.

"My mum taught me how to draw. Anatomy and all," the dark-haired woman would say, laughing quietly, always humble. "She taught me a lot. All I know, really."

Thundercracker, after witnessing the others' talents, couldn't help but feel a little curious about how and why the young woman drew. He hadn't known her during her primary development period, as he had Rachel and Danny, and he felt strange asking her about it (as if he felt any better approaching the humans he'd known longer), considering how skittish she was with being put on the spot.

Strangely enough, that day, she had approached him. Kass had been sitting by herself, across the campfire from the seated jet, looking intensely at her notepad.

"What should I draw?" she asked abruptly, obviously directing the question at him.

Thundercracker stared at her, his processors trying to keep up. He had never been asked that question before, ever, and certainly not by Kass, who was still timid with all of the mechs except Bluestreak.

"I have no idea," he answered, honestly. He wouldn't even know a basic response to that, let alone a personal opinion. She generally stuck to 'still-life' objects, like the wildlife around them, at least to the parts that were still remotely intact and worth the effort of sketching them.

Kass glanced at him—twice, nervously—but stayed mostly focused on her tablet of blank paper. Rachel's paper had lines on it, but this paper was apparently designed for art specifically. Most times she used scraps she picked up from cities, like old posters or the backs of papers with writing on the front. She would scribble on the pages of books that her friends were finished with (though the one time she drew a rather ornate forest scene in a novel Danny hadn't finished yet had caused some problems).

"…You change into a plane, right?" she suddenly asked. Her accent was different from any of the others. It made her sound like some sort of Iaconian elite, or a member of the council.

Tilting his head, the ex-Decepticon nodded. "Yes."

The human suddenly smiled, though the gesture was directed at the tablet still. "I'll draw you as a plane, then," she said. From the tone of her voice, Thundercracker thought she was joking, teasing.

A stray thought hit him as he gazed around their half-empty campsite.

"You've never seen me transformed completely," he said. He wasn't sure why he felt awkward saying that. He had never placed himself into a piece of creative material, picture or written work. It had never even crossed his processors, actually.

Kass blinked and gave him a strange look, obviously surprised but also considering his answer.

"…We have another hour at least?" she said, shrugging. It was true; Jazz, Barns, Rachel and Wheeljack had gone ahead to do some scouting. Either their maps of the area were inaccurate or they had lost their way somehow. While they were scouting, Danny and Kass had set up the camp and started dinner, which Danny was watching while talking to Wildrider. It seemed they did have some time before dusk.

So, with a rather human shrug to indicate 'why not?,' Thundercracker transformed and allowed the woman to draw him.

He had realized early in their acquaintance that he primarily liked Kass for her gift of silence. The other humans were endearing most times, but they needed so much interaction. Through many vorns of exposure to Starscream and Skywarp, Thundercracker had come to appreciate silent, restful companions. Within a few minutes of his transformation, Bluestreak and Wildrider had taken an interest in the artist and her subject, but they didn't say much. Danny kneaded dough for the next morning's breakfast and Vortex was pointedly uninterested. Thundercracker was surprised he didn't mind being under such careful scrutiny as Kass scribbled and focused on him and the paper with an intensity he wasn't used to seeing from the human.

The others returned after about forty minutes. "Holy Primus on a stick," Jazz blurted before cracking up as he saw Thundercracker just parked there in his jet-mode. He grinned at Thundercracker clearly relieved by the sight, so the jet knew he had done right by this.

"If you're going to blaspheme, at least use something that has some intelligence behind it," Vortex snapped irritably. He had been ignoring the entire situation.

Kass shook her head. "I'm sketching him," she answered Jazz, working on the image, smudging areas to make them darker where the light was less intense.

"It's really nice so far," Danny added, smiling brightly. Clearly more aware of her surroundings than Thundercracker would have given her credit for, she had been sneaking looks the entire time.

Rachel plopped down next to Kass, interested. "Can I see?" She and the other two humans (Wildrider also loomed curiously behind them) shared the sketch pad as they looked at Kass's work.

"Wonderful job," Wheeljack said amiably. "You even have the shadows and highlights done." The jet on the page, although not a mirror image of himself, seemed to be rather accurate and three-dimensional from Thundercracker's point of view.

"I think the nose is wrong," Barns suddenly said, pointing carefully at the paper. Kass made a face, apparently agreeing with him, glancing up at Thundercracker's frame as she redid that part of the drawing.

"Planes have noses?" Danny asked, stunned. She sent Thundercracker's form a wild look. "Where?"

Laughter was shared and explanations were given. The camp resumed to its normal activities as daylight faded and Kass was forced to wrap up the sketching session. Thundercracker transformed back and found himself placed as the art critic, with Kass holding up her drawing so he could see it.

Thundercracker hesitated."…It's very good." He felt stupid for saying it, but it felt right. Compliments were always key with humans. It wasn't horrible either. Then again, he wasn't an artist.

Kass laughed again. "Thanks, TC," she said softly. She held the drawing up to him to take, her eyes as kind as her voice. "Here. You can trash it if you want."

Only Jazz knew that he had kept the drawing. His mate had smirked at his expense, but he had never told Kass, or anyone else, that Thundercracker kept the drawing secure in his subspace. Thundercracker was grateful that he got that much consideration. He told himself that it wasn't because he felt an emotional attachment to the drawing. It just didn't seem intelligent to destroy it. After all, Kass had put a lot of work into it and it would be rude and unnecessarily cruel to just drop it like garbage.

When or how the meager creative works of an organic had become anything more than garbage… Thundercracker had no idea. He couldn't find the will to care to know, either.

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Rachel didn't like him. Or at least, she hadn't liked him at the beginning of their strange and unique partnership. Jazz, always the friendly mech, had won the defensive child over within the first few weeks. But Rachel moved far more carefully around Thundercracker, both physically and emotionally. Jazz made her laugh, made her feel cared for, and she responded to both by opening up to him. But whenever she even looked at Thundercracker, she clammed up. At first Thundercracker had thought it was fear, but after watching her deal with real fear (a night-time drone attack) he realized it had to be something else.

He told himself that it didn't matter. It (not she) was just a human youngling that really had no worth to him. Jazz got attached easily, but Thundercracker kept his distance from Rachel just as much as she did with him. He told himself that their mutual avoidance techniques would ensure that things would work out fine.

But the days turned to weeks and they found themselves actually living and traveling together… and one day Thundercracker onlined to realize that a subroutine he had never expected to experience had been activated. After that morning, whenever they were attacked or Rachel had a scare of any sort Thundercracker felt a fear of his own. A silent, unmistakable urge to protect her flared up in his spark. He couldn't deny it. The child had become something like an adopted sparkling. She… mattered.

So when she turned away from him in silent (albeit respectful) silence, it started to bother him. Somewhat. Only… a little. Thundercracker didn't want to think that a human child's opinion of him mattered, but as Jazz put it, "ya always want yer child's attention." He had never hated sparklings. He had sometimes thought about a what-if universe where he and Skywarp might have had one. But instead of that reality he had this one - an Autobot mate and an organic youngling who only showed him disdain. It wasn't the ideal situation.

When he had (reluctantly) approached Jazz about it, the silver mech had surprisingly given him a serious answer without even a single joke at his expense. Jazz had suggested he "get to know" Rachel by just prompting the conversation himself, instead of waiting for her to do so. Perhaps the problem was that Thundercracker came off as the uninterested one, Jazz reasoned, so Rachel stayed away. It was up to the jet to fix it.

Bending to an organic's whims… it was ridiculous and degrading for him as a Deception solider. Then again… he wasn't a Decepticon anymore. But still he had his honor and this was embarrassing.

The only thing driving him to act was the urge to at least smooth things over. It was just the three of them. They had to function well as a group, to survive. It was just something he had to do, cooperating with the child.

He wasn't the friendliest or most outgoing mech, he never had been; he wasn't upset about that in the least. But he would have to make the effort if he was to get the human child to like him… and he was no Autobot. Jazz assured him that he just had to do his best. Thundercracker wasn't sure how that would help, but one morning, when Jazz had slipped off to scout from a hilltop ahead of their camp, he decided to just try it.

"What are you doing?" he blurted at the human who sat opposite him, silently scribbling away at a tablet of 'paper.'

Rachel flinched visibly, looking up in surprise, and he immediately regretted how harsh he sounded. The entire area had been utterly quiet before, so Thundercracker knew he probably spoke a bit too fast (and loudly). He waited for her to reply, his spark uncomfortable.

"Nothing," the child snapped. She drew back emotionally, as usual, her lips forming a frown of displeasure and she went back to her 'writing.' Apparently, humans had their own forms of calligraphy.

Thundercracker sat there, knowing he had messed up his first attempt, and he contemplated the next best move.

"Stop it."

The abrupt speech startled the jet into looking up at the human. "Stop what?" he asked. Oops. That sounded too defensive. Rachel glared up at him. Even if she was leery about talking to him, she refused to back down from things she feared.

"Staring," she snapped, irritated.

Thundercracker rumbled lowly, watching her carefully, before averting his gaze. "Sorry." Well, that failed miserably.

Several minutes later, Thundercracker still had nothing to say. Rachel kept writing, ignoring him with supernatural skill. Jazz would have known what to say; Thundercracker scowled out at nothing, not sure why he was still trying. It was just a child.

…A child he was beginning to view as his responsibility. Just has he saw Jazz as someone to care about. Because… that's what happened now, on this planet, in this hellhole. People who lasted and hung around for longer than a week or a run-in with drones grew beyond just being strangers.

They became important.

"I have never seen human text," Thundercracker found himself saying, before he could think twice.

Surprisingly, Rachel didn't hesitate to reply, even if it was in an irritated voice. "We pass billboards all the time," she muttered.

"Texts, not letters," Thundercracker replied, avoiding her snark. "You write often."

Rachel glanced at him, eyes narrowed. "If this is your way of bonding, stick to saying nothing," she began, challenging, "'cause I like silence more than Jazz's stupidity."

A stray thought entered his processors. Perhaps it would be best to play this as Jazz would. "Liar," he accused.

"I'm not a liar," Rachel exclaimed, suddenly defensive. She glared at him with even more intensity; she was always easily riled by insults toward her character.

Thundercracker let her aggression work for him. "Then you don't speak the truth," he replied coldly. He gestured with his hand. "What are you writing?"

"I—," she began, faltering. She stopped talking and looked down at her book, as if noticing something for the first time.

Waiting, the ex-Decepticon expected her to shut up entirely again and return to ignoring him. He wasn't expecting her to slowly rise to her feet and walk over to him, clutching her tablet close to her chest, finally letting her eyes reach his as she stopped short of the metal giant.

And then, she held it out to him. A tiny book, which probably was only a quarter of the size of the tip of his finger. Rachel stared up at him, eternally fearless, waiting for his reaction.

Thundercracker grasped the delicate square and, using moderate magnification, deciphered the text.

It wasn't a complicated assortment of words. Just a few short paragraphs, telling a short story, of people Thundercracker was certain didn't exist, or at least that he had ever met. It was nothing like the academic scripts from Iacon, or the spiritual literature of pre-Golden Age times. It was strangely… Rachel.

"…You are very descriptive," he said after a moment, lowering the tablet. Rachel was just staring at him, defensive as always.

She shrugged after a moment, looking away finally. "Only thing I'm good at. Writing, I mean. And surviving." Rachel snorted, glancing back at him with a strange expression. "What… don't you aliens have literature?"

"Not like this," Thundercracker replied, avoiding the jab. Pausing for a moment, he handed the book back to her. "…Good work."

He didn't know if it actually was a good job, compared to other human texts, but he knew enough of human behaviors to know compliments were expected. At the very least, Thundercracker was impressed by her literacy.

Rachel hesitated, having to reach up on her toes to grab the book back, and sat down in a silent huff.

"…Thanks," she finally muttered, meeting his eyes, before turning back to writing.

He decided to start reading more human literature from Jazz's archives. Just for reference.

Later, when they discussed it in the dark as the child slept peacefully near the fire, Jazz said he'd made a good start. Thundercracker wasn't sure he agreed entirely, but he had to admit, at least the child would hold his gaze longer than just a split second now. He wasn't one for conversation to begin with, so it didn't matter if she didn't chat with him as often as she would with Jazz. They weren't always alone, either, but when they were, Thundercracker was pleased to see her sitting closer and even in a relaxed pose when they were by themselves.

One of those rare times, they were by a recreation area, a "city park." Thundercracker hadn't noticed what Rachel was doing until he looked up and saw her using a silver bottle of paint to spray words onto the faded and crumbling concrete of a bridge. Thundercracker watched her, unsure exactly what the purpose of her writing was.

"What are you doing?" he asked after a while.

Rachel didn't even turn around to answer, spraying word after word onto the brick. "Writing."

Thundercracker stared at her back, frowning deeper. "…On the wall," he repeated.

"Yeah, birdbrain, what's it to you?" she challenged, glancing over her shoulder.

Insults meant familiarity. Thundercracker fought the urge to smirk. "Why on a wall?" he prompted.

Rachel released a short puff of air. "Because—," she began, but then she stopped abruptly. "I don't know," she conceded, frowning. She stood back from the wall and stared up at the three or four lines of words she had painted before glancing over at the jet. "Is it stupid?"

The way she said it was strange, at least for Rachel. She never questioned her own actions, at least not out loud. She was always decisive. Thundercracker carefully read the small verse, which was apparently a poem about pre-war times.

"I don't know," he admitted. He was not a good judge for something like this. Inwardly, he was pleased that she would even turn to him for advice of any sort.

"…I… like the idea of leaving something here. In case people see it later," she answered, picking up the can again, embellishing the words. "I usually don't like showing my stuff, but if its anonymous, why not?"

She spoke in a flippant manner, not unlike Jazz when he got defensive. Thundercracker rumbled lowly, watching her move.

"Why anonymous, though? You won't get credit," he said, still not understanding.

Rachel made the sighing sound again, her arm pausing, her gaze caught by something beyond the concrete wall. "Yeah," she replied. "But that's not the point."

Optics furrowing, Thundercracker tilted his head further. "What is the point?" he asked.

Standing back, the child, barely of age according to Jazz, stared up at her creation, her gaze and mind captured by something that Thundercracker couldn't see. He could imagine, however. They all knew war and death… and what this place meant to a being like Rachel, who knew this place as home instead of just a prison. She wasn't a child, not when she stared like that.

"…This place is dead," she said at last, gesturing up at the wall. "I'm dead. Everyone is dead, or we all soon will be. Fact of life." She shrugged her shoulders, effortlessly, in a way that only a mech as flexible as Jazz could hope to imitate. "Doesn't mean I can't leave a part of me behind."

A grim justification, but a justification nonetheless. "…I see," Thundercracker said quietly.

Rachel dropped the can and stood back to observe her work. After a bit, she walked over and lay down on the ground, limbs spread, looking tired, but content.

Thundercracker watched her silently, considering what he had just witnessed.

"Humans are indeed creative," he murmured, turning away.

Rachel grinned up at him from the grass, eyes shining for a variety of reasons. Companionship was perhaps one of them, as well as her own grief. "Kiss-ass," she joked.

He turned sharp red eyes down at her, snapping "Brat!" even as his spark lightened.

He shouldn't have felt as good as he did to hear her laugh and to become more than just an alien to her. Humans were creative, but they were also strange. They made him do strange things and feel stranger.

In the end, he could live with that.

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End Creativity.

Next: What exactly happened fifty years ago?

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A/Ns:
-Danny's nationality is a bit of a mystery (and rather unimportant haha) but since some of you have mentioned before that you didn't know what the humans looked like: Danny is most likely of Arabic descent, probably from Spain, Barns is a brunette Frenchman, Rachel's rather Nordic looking, and Kass has black hair and typically pale skin from the British Isles. :)