|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] [Chapter: Galestorm.] |/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

He had stepped inside of the room almost automatically. D-HEX-23675 was so absorbed in the sight of the constrained mech that he didn't think about what he was doing.

Now at closer proximity he noticed that a pair of red orbs glowed in the optical casings. The optics of this mech were barely active, staring into an endless void with a vague red shimmer. The systems seemed set in stand-by mode. Hextaida placed his hands at his sides, bend forward a little bit in a demanding posture and called out, "Hey! Prisoner! This one asked what you are!"

The large mech did not respond to him. Hextaida waited a bit, observing the silvery white and army green colors of the mech against the dullness of the prison cell. It seemed as if this mech had been here for a while. And it still did not answer him.
Hextaida grimaced a bit, "Aren't you going to answer? Don't you have a vocalizer?" He waved both hands above his head, but even his waving garnered no reaction.

This was the only room that he could see into, and it contained a unit that appeared outright comatose. The little cargo-lifter pouted and his shoulders drooped a bit. It just wasn't fair. Perhaps he needed to prod a little more...
"I'm going to climb you if you don't answer me!" He attempted. The big mech did not react.

"/Fine/! I'm coming up there. Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, Hextaida Mandar approached one of the large shins. He only reached up halfway but the exhaust ports, seams and bolts gave him enough purchase to start his climb. A rumble went through the body, but it was weak and was not followed by anything else. Boldly, the little mech continued mantling the large structure, small fingers wedging themselves between creaks in the thick armored panels. He placed a foot in the other robots thigh, and reached out and pulled himself futher up. Not before long did his fingers catch the rim of what he did not know to be a cockpit. He had come up a little bit at the side, peering upwards with a curious but slightly careful look. This mech was so big.

After taking a moment to watch silently, Hextaida concluded that the prisoner was still offline. With one swift motion he heaved himself up, hooked one knee around the cockpit rim and tumbled onto the horizontal plateau that led up to the thick cables of an armored neck. There was just enough space between the edge and the face of the offline robot. Hextaida could just fit there, staring at the rough and chiseled faceplate. It was lean and dirty and marred with scars that the nanobot structure of the living metal failed to heal. A closer inspection revealed tiny specks of rust. Hextaida experienced a pinch of concern at this discovery. "You're not taking good care of yourself." He says with a hint of disdain, "You have to correct that, you know."

His gaze wanders over the rest of the body, discovering more specks of rust underneath thick layers of dust and grease lining the joints visible between shoulder and torso. At last, his optics focus on the majestic wings pinned between body and wall. Although discolored and scraped and flakey at some points, there is a distinctive mark set on the surface. Once deep and bright purple, the sigil is now nothing more than a sickly weak violet gray.

But the sigil shape is still recognizable, and Hextaida stares in growing awe. Although Cybertron was far away and its reputation little more than a rogue planet infested with malfunctioning hardware, the Quintesson Masters did invest quite some time in updating the history databanks. And they would hammer every update tightly into his head. Cybertron's state of affairs was important. Its history every example of how a good unit does not behave. Except for one minute detail.
With all due haste, Hextaida turns back to the face, laying a hand on each side of the jawline and bringing his face close, "You! Decepticon! Wake up! Wake UP!"

A rumble shot through the body, a sound that started slow and lumbering but increased in volume at a quick pace. The ruby optics that had burned dimly intensified in brightness but did not shift to focus on the little mech in front of the Cybertronian's broad nose.
They did not need to.
Down to the very magnification, the most minute detail of focus, they were already set on the little mech.
And they probably had been for a while.
Hextaida froze, the sudden realization hitting him as he was subjected to an outright murderous stare. The large, no, huge war machine lifted its head slightly. Air was sucked deeply into big exhaust ports located in the anthracite helmet and for just a moment it seemed as if the mech prepared to yell at him.

"Little mech, I could've killed you a thousand times over, starting with the moment you stepped into this room." A dark baritone voice grinded from a vocalizer hidden deep within the throat. There was a rasp to it from sheer lack of use but it sure didn't lack anything in sheer intimidation. The sentence was followed with a low growl that rippled the air. Hextaida felt himself freeze, being reminded of the predatory stare of an Allicon. Except bigger. Much bigger.

The little cargo-lifter blinked, blue optics staring up as red optics stared down. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he grinned. "But you're all tied up! You're not going to kill me. You're not going to do anything but hang here!"

"I-" The Decepticon found his intimidating posture wiped out with one carefully thought-out retort. His lenses shifted, refocusing on that seemingly young visage. "SLAG, do I have to suffer you too? Like this wretched dank prison cell isn't enough! There's not a sigil on you. What are you anyway if not a Con? You a rusting 'bot? Are those filthy squid-faces sending me an Autobot to grind my gears..." With an insistent growl, the Decepticon adds, "Or perhaps you managed to get free and are now escaping? Help /me/ from these bonds and let's make a deal to help each other get out of this place. I'm done hanging around here, ready to wreck some of my captors if you understand what I mean." The sudden shift from confusion to sly cunning was a very smooth one.
In fact, it was so smooth that Hextaida stalled for a moment to think about this change in tone, before he replied, "Pff, I'm no escapee! I'm Master Creator Emphisa's prototype! And I'm not even thinking of helping you; I know that logo from the databanks, you're a Decepticon!" His voice pitched a bit higher with accusation.

The captive fighter smirked, bright ruby optics squinting in what seemed to be a confident expression, "You got that right, kid, and I'm proud to be one!"
"I wouldn't be so proud if I were you, Decepticons are rogue products! You don't obey our Quintesson Creators, and I'm sure you were informed by now of who they are, and you dare call them derogatories so I might have reasons to call you a traitor!"
"Traitor?! Harumph! Who dare say that? We Decepticons are proud warriors! I will have you know that no-one called me a traitor at the battle of Lok'wer! A hero, that is what the natives called us there! A traitor, look at you talk. A Quintesson pet, you are then? Talking how they talk? You're talking greaseslack, that's what! Tell me; you ever seen a real Decepticon?"

Hextaida cringes his nose at the question and replies indignantly, "Yes, I have seen a real Decepticon!"
At this assumption, the 'Con grinned with apparent disbelief. He made all effort to mockingly display his thoughts, "Hah, you lie. Who then, you dinky prison pet of a Quint-squid?"
"You! This one is seeing you, and you have stated to be a Decepticon and you wear three times the Decepticon Sigil; two on your wings and one on your helmet! /You/ are a Decepticon!"
"Me-what?!" The seeker stares blankly for a moment, no insult lining his sentence as he regards the diminutive mech, "-How old are you?"
"About a week old, Decepticon!" Hextaida is looked at strangely. "A /week/ old? Slag, what is your designation, kid?"
"Prototype D-Hex 23675, Decepticon. Alternative monniker Hextaida Mandar."
"Hextaida Mandar? That's the strangest name I've ever heard. It's not even Cybertronian."
"That is because I'm not a Cybertronian! Cybertron isn't even a legal state! I'm a Quintessonian product. Tell me your designation, Decepticon!"
The war machine grinds his teeth; for being a week old this little unit sure knows how to order him around. Was it a Decepticon he would slap it a few times for discipline- nah, come to think of it he would probably kill the little one instantly if he did that. The thing didn't look too tough. "Galestorm, kid. My designation is Galestorm. I'm a Sky Warrior, one of the Decepticon's main airborne fighting force; we are the greatest fighting force in the galaxy, and do not let anyone tell you otherwise."

"...!" Hextaida's optics widen. For a moment he looks confused. A tremble goes through his body and then his facial features fold in a hard stare of dismay. He leans back, raises an arm, flattens a hand. SMACK! Hextaida slaps the mech straight across the face, as hard as he can. He's not exactly able to miss. "I asked your name, not your function, and I definitely did not ask you for any opinion on your faction, Decepticon!"

Galestorm stared at him. He hadn't averted his face when the little mech lashed out at him but his optics dimmed just so. Now, they intensify to shine brilliant red with a distinct fury. It is through clenched teeth that he speaks, chin jutting out in defiance, "You think it's /wise/ to get hands on with a mech who can kill you without effort, youngling?" His body, in the perception of Hextaida, rumbles dangerously. His voice is cold and calculated, inquisitive and thick with threat.

There's a pause as Hextaida thinks things through. He looks down and back up before speaking honestly, "We all have to obey rules and regulations. You understand that, right? If we don't we must be disciplined." He nods to himself, "We must be strict to be effective! The Masters would have me slapped if I disobeyed them, so I'm slapping you because you disobeyed me! Besides, you're constrained. What can you possibly do?" Both mechs look at each other, neither one backing down.

"Rha-hahaHAH!" Suddenly, Galestorm roars into a raspy laughter, "Hah! I get it; you're trying to apply what they teach you then? You really do try and talk like /them/. The slaggers. You talk greaseslack, boy! Alright, I'll play, ahem; You are correct, little one. You did ask for my designation, not my function." It's kind of difficult to feel offense at the pretty futile attempt to discipline him if this child is just mimicking its masters. To be honest, the slap hadn't even hurt him, what with his military steel and everything.

With a tilt of his head, Hextaida continues cunningly, "So you're a sky warrior of the Decepticon army. Where's the rest of your fighting force?"
Galestorm looks taken aback for a moment, optics dimming in a quick blink before he lets out an irritated roar, "They are staging my rescue, probably!"
Slag, he didn't feel like discussing this at all.
D-HEX-23675, on the other hand, thought differently. "How long have you been here, unit Galestorm?"
Galestorm stared at him for a second. It dawned on him that none of the Quintessons ever called his name. To hear it spoken felt strange. "For far too long, Hextaida Mandar. For far too long."
"How long is that, unit Galestorm?"
Yes, how long was it? Months, Days, Years. Decades?
Galestorm could look it up. His memory banks still knew the day of his capture. But... he really didn't want to remember. It was too long ago, and thinking about it made his situation appear very bleak. It was better for his morale to not think about it.
"I don't know." He lied. Thank Cybertron his words vocalized easily. A nice secondary skill to have as a Decepticon.
Hextaida nodded, "Ok." He thought, the makings of another question just there on his lips. "Why are you here, unit Galestorm?"
"I don't know." The words were repeated.
"Ok."
Galestorm frowned, a stern look shifting his features, "You're not going to set me free from these bonds then, are you?"
"No, I'm not." Was the simple reply that Hextaida gave him.
With a low growl from deep within him, Galestorm communicated just much how this displeased him.

Instead of looking for a way to free the warrior, Hextaida glanced at his features, curiosity visible on his face. It kind of sickened Galestorm, to be stuck to a wall with this little mech perching on him with absolutely no sense of shame or respect. He was a fraggin' display piece! As Hextaida turned to look down his cockpit canopy, Galestorm's optics narrowed dangerously. Yes, it was pleasant to encounter someone who didn't treat him as an object to be abused, but you know what? Galestorm decided he didn't need a little weakling mech taking an interest in his person. Especially not if it wasn't going to help him.
Out of nowhere his body shook, tensed. Then, quick as anything, the part of his chest where Hextaida was perched slammed down in a lightning-fast attempt at transformation!
For just a millisecond, Hextaida was positively floating in the air, optics turning to shock. Then he went along with gravity and crashed into the military-grade metal right as it rose back up to meet him. Being the weakest of the two forces, the blow of their connection launched him back into the air at an angle. Now, there was /nothing/ beneath him except for the ground down below.
"Gy-aaaah!"
Galestorm smirked with satisfied glee as the child cried out in horror on its way down, and rumbled his approval at the painful crunch of impact. For a moment, everything was silent.
Then the wailing began.

"Aaaaaaaaaaah! You-You're MEAN!" Hextaida cried out in shock. He glared upwards and was faced with a gaze of pure indifference. He scrambled to get up, let out a furious high-pitched hiss that resembled nothing sentient and dashed out of the room. "I hope they destroy you!"
Galestorm watched as the mech ran out, bloodred optics staring without blinking. When the door slid shut and silence filled the room, the Decepticon shifted a cog in his left shoulder to get some relief from the torture of suspended animation. He snorted, a sound which ended in a sigh as he resumed his dormant state.

|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] [End of Chapter: Galestorm.] |/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

An update! I know it's been a while since the last one, still due to situations and everything. I hope you liked meeting Galestorm. I dedicated this chapter solely to him. There will be mixed scenes again later on.

Please review or favorite or follow if you liked the story/chapter. That would be amazing. Comments and positive critique are always welcome.

Thank you for reading!