Chapter 6

"Wrong Crowd"

Time flashed by like whip-fast Neptunian winds. As Hawkmoon acclimatized herself with her Cybertronian form and life, she grew more comfortable with where and who she was. And that needed to change. Hunters didn't settle down. They roamed, far and wide, and they never stopped moving. The only thing keeping her need to drift away at bay was the freeing ability to fly.

Well, that and the people she'd met. Phosphora, Overwatch, and Daybreak were more than just nice - they were like the family she never had. Or the family she forgot. Something along those lines. Did she have a family before Deep Stone Crypt? Before giving her flesh over to the ice? Hawkmoon didn't know. Didn't want to know.

But yes, they were like a family to her, if a family was a warm background full of support and kindness. Nothing like the team she'd left behind. That had been her true family, one full of Ghosts and Guardians, where mayhem and fire and long Warlock-y lectures were the only constants. But, as much as she missed it, what she had now was a... pleasant change of pace. Phosphora wasn't an Ikharos, and Daybreak was no Jaxson, but they were enough to keep her humanity afloat.

Still, being afloat meant just scraping by. She needed to be alive. And Hawkmoon, ironically enough, found it in Knockout.

"Cube?" He inquired with his usual cocky grin.

Hawkmoon pinged Phosphora's comms. ::I'm going out for a little while. Is that okay?::

::Of course. But if there's any trouble, don't hesitate to call.::

::Thanks.:: Hawkmoon nodded and smiled back. "Sure."

She closed and locked the door behind her with nothing but a signal (Phosphora and Overwatch had seen fit to give her the keycodes a couple of orns back) and walked away with the fledgling racer/physician.

He talked. Quite a lot. Mostly posturing, but he was more than that. Knockout's optics were sharp and, and, he was smarter than he looked. Smarter than he acted too. Hawkmoon had thought she was doing just fine when he suddenly said, "You're restless."

Straight to the heart of the matter. His words stabbed right into her core and laid it open, exposing all the things she would rather have left hidden. "I'm fine," Hawkmoon said, half-convinced it was true.

"You might be, but you're still restless."

"What a fragging genius," she grumbled, and she meant it. Worst part was he knew she meant it. Knockout's grin widened ever further, threatening to split his faceplates in half.

"That I am," he chuckled. "How about something more than an energon cube?"

"... Right, let's freeze here and get things straight. You're going to explain to me what you mean, and I'll decide if I have enough time for it."

"You have nothing but time."

Don't I know it... "I'd like to return home before Phosphora gets worried."

"I swear, you're so responsible it almost isn't funny."

Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "Responsible? Me?" She was anything but! How many times had she trespassed into Kings' territory? Or Hive nests? Or Cabal firebases? Ikharos yelled at her on an almost weekly basis for going too far. But it was so, so, much fun to drive him to his wits' end.

Pity she'd never get that chance again.

"Yeah. Never do anything to disappoint your creator."

"Phosphora's not my creator."

"No, but you treat her like it."

"... Do I?" The older femme was suffocatingly motherly, true, but Hawkmoon thought she'd kept that at a distance. As nice as the family were to her, throwing herself wholeheartedly into the (admittedly very welcoming) arms of Exo-like aliens wasn't on her bucket list. Or, if it was, then it was too far below Operation: Kill the Worm to garner any notice. "Don't think I do."

Knockout hesitated, smile dying away. "Somewhat. It's-"

"There's a marked difference between Somewhat and Actually."

"Semantics."

"Our whole lives are just a matter of semantics. Or... something like that. What's that damn quote...?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. What's your proposal?"

"Ooookay. Night out."

"Dangerous."

"Is it?"

"Well, I don't know. You tell me."

"I don't..." Knockout shook his helm. "High-grade energon. That's what I mean."

"Oh?" Hawkmoon looked it up. It... fizzled, apparently? No, buzzed. Ah. That made more sense. "Oh, yes please."

His grin was back in full swing. "Perfect. There's a few others I want to call up, if you don't mind company."

"Good company?"

"Nope. The worst."

"Ah. Got it. Sure."

Three orns later, Hawkmoon found out who constituted as the worst in the Knockout's optics. And, to her lack of surprise, they were pretty good company all considered. A bit... youthful, for want of a better word, like Knockout, but they were better behaved than most Hunters. Flamewar, the first she met, was a femme two-thirds Hawkmoon's height and half her actual size, but despite her thin chassis and frame, she had a rather fiery personality.

And she transformed into a two-wheeled vehicle that looked plain awesome. If Hawkmoon hadn't been able to transform into a jet, she would have envied the other femme.

"So you're the Seeker." Flamewar crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of the oilhouse (Cybertronian version of a bar or saloon, apparently).

Hawkmoon cracked a grin. "What gave it away?"

"The clueless look on your faceplates. Like you've only ever spent your life in the clouds."

Most of her life had been spent in the wilderness, but okay. "Ah. 'Spose that's what I'm here to fix."

"We'll help you with that. Can you hold your high-grade?"

As an Exo, strong drinks had only ever given her a slight tingling sensation, courtesy of a alcohol-receptor modification the Bray company implemented, but a drink aimed solely for inebriating robots? "No clue. I guess I fit the guileless stereotype well, don't I?"

Flamewar smiled. Grinned. Toothily. Dentally? Hawkmoon settled for the former. Easier for her poor, over-taxed processor. "Oh, you'll fit in."

Would she? If there was one thing about Knockout and his friends she picked up on, it was the luxurious paintjobs. Not her. Oh, sure, she was mostly teal with elements of silver and black, but it was nothing like Knockout's eye-catching red or Flamewar's fiery patterns crawling across her coal-black chassis, or even the gentle shore-blue racing stripes of the fashionably late Blurr.

When the last of the speed-loving trio arrived, it finally dawned on Hawkmoon that this was going to be a test of patience. Something none of the three had. She was a Hunter, someone who roamed, who stalked, who lay in wait for the perfect opportunity, for the perfect conditions, for the perfect prey. But they were racers. They drove and drove. Speed was their game. Not time. Not like her.

Time was her playground. Time was something she had in spades.

That wasn't to say they weren't good company, because they certainly were. Her only complaint was how... overbearingly confident they were. Confidence was not the worst of virtues, but the way they wore it grated on her over time. They spoke and moved with absolutes, full of youthful certainty. For all she knew, they could have been tens of vorns older than her, but the end it all came down to experience. Hawkmoon came to the conclusion that she was simply more mature than they were.

"So what do you do?" Blurr asked, just as he received his third cube of high-grade from the scowling bartender. She was still on her first.

"I fly," Hawkmoon deadpanned. She twitched her wings self-consciously. "Shocking, I know."

He laughed. All three of them did. "I mean what's your occupation?"

"I don't know."

"So I gathered, but surely you feel something calling to you."

"Tracking."

"Tracking?"

"Roaming. Exploring."

"Oh really?" He lifted his cube in a half-hearted toast. "Maybe you'll be a Seeker Elite?"

Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "What's an Elite?"

"Oh, you know. Energon Seekers."

"I don't know."

"They search out and mark off energon reservoirs," Flamewar took over, more to the point than the blue mech - Blurr - ever could be. It was refreshing, after having listened to his inane rambling for... barely half a joor.

Oh, it was going to be a long night.

"Surely they've all been mapped out," Hawkmoon reasoned. There were a few energon lakes of note on Cybertron, if her recently downloaded geography files were to be believed. Most of them were practically depleted, but a couple were still going strong. "I can't imagine any corner of of Cybertron has gone untrekked."

"Ah," Flamewar said, smiling with the pleasure of knowing something someone else didn't. "Not here. They seek out other worlds."

Hawkmoon frowned thoughtfully. "They do? How do they manage that?"

"They fly," Blurr chuckled.

"Between worlds?"

"Of course."

"That's..." She was about to say impossible, but why would it be? She didn't breathe air, didn't have blood to freeze over, didn't have thin skin to burst. Her alt-form's plating was thick enough to keep the elements at bay and protect her internal workings. "Interesting," Hawkmoon finished. It gave her something to ponder.

She could fly. Through the cosmos.

She could find Earth.

The Seeker Elites were her path home. Hawkmoon exulted in the feeling of firm decision; she finally had something to aim for. She knocked back the rest of her high-grade with a reignited fervour for life.

"Inspired?" Knockout slyly murmured from beside her.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it."

"How was your night?"

Hawkmoon glanced towards the living room. Phosphora and Overwatch were in the middle of watching something, but her arrival hadn't been entirely subtle. She shrugged. "Well enough."

"Who were you with?" Overwatch asked.

Phosphora elbowed him. "That's none of our business. Don't tell him, dear!"

"What?! It's a valid question!"

"She's a grown femme, well able to make her own decisions."

"But those hoodlums are-"

"None of our business, sweetspark."

They continued to bicker back and forth. Hawkmoon watched them go for a while, amused, and left for her berth. She wasn't necessarily tired, but... she wanted a clear processor for what was ahead.

She had a purpose again. Operation: Getting Home was a go. Maybe it would help her with Operation: Kill the Worm. Grab a few Guardians, get armed, go hunting.

Hawkmoon liked that thought very much.

AN: This chapter was more difficult to write than it should have been.

In any case, thanks to Nomad Blue for editing, and everyone else for reading!