A/N: I have no author's notes. Uh. Have a Seeker with a pancake on its head?
Sahrai (not signed in, so I can't respond directly): Because FFNet doesn't have a genre for 'tongue-in-cheek half-serious crack-fic' *cough* It has its darker chapters and it has its more light-hearted ones but it started out as mild tongue-in-cheek snarkiness due to Will's point of view and that's how it's staying (it's a Seeker. Yes, yes, airborne master of the sky. Will is still not impressed). It may walk the path of humour with the grace and confidence of a drunken hippopotamus but the snark will still be there. Rest assured, there will be no non-con coming up... which is part of why it's already at 50k words and counting ;) (C'mon. Have a little faith in the guy! And if not him, then the rest of the 'Bots, at least)
Ironhide had long since learned to control his temper. As much as said temper could be an advantage in the heat of battle, it could be just as dangerous when allowed to run uncontrolled. Today, however, was definitely not one of his better days. Quite rightfully, he blamed the bond with his human-turned-Seeker partner for most of it, too, however much he might try to shield it, and the tried and true Ironhide solution to those days usually resulted in rather massive amounts of destruction.
On Diego Garcia, that translated to shooting the ever-loving slag out of every piece of scrap on the Autobot scale shooting range that was big enough to hit, and Ironhide had been prepared to do just that when he had arrived and found that he was not the only one with that idea.
Both cannons already charging, Ironhide stared at Robert Epps. The human arched an eyebrow and stared right back and silently dared the mech to say a thing about it.
"The targets," Ironhide finally said over his comm link, tapping into the receiver in Epps' ear protection, "are bigger than you are. I was under the impression that NEST had shooting ranges more suitable for your size."
Epps snorted and returned his attention to said targets, bringing his gun back up. "And if I go there, I'm just gonna get another slag-pile of paperwork." Two shots, fired with more aggression than the man usually displayed, and then he lowered the weapon again and looked back at Ironhide. "You're in a piss-ass mood today."
An exaggeration. Mostly. Ironhide merely snorted in return and brought up his own weapons, and the world exploded in the deafening roar and blinding light of twin cannon blasts striking true, target after target obliterated as aggression turned into anger turned into energy, and when he lowered the cannons again a full minute later, it was to the sight of several new craters in the ground and the last, pathetic bits of half-melted metallic rubble from his last target falling from the sky.
Epps, he noticed, had stopped shooting his own inferior Earth-based weapon and put it aside in favour of watching the show instead.
Long seconds passed and the human looked at him again; fleeting, tired worry in his features that Ironhide had become all too familiar with over the course of their few years on this new planet.
"That bad?" Epps commented and for a moment Ironhide was silent, not actually sure what to say. He wasn't even sure himself. Will had asked for help and Ratchet had arrived and proceeded to kick Ironhide out. That wouldn't have been a good sign in any situation, much less one dealing with something as volatile as a Seeker. On the other hand, Ratchet hadn't contacted him again in the four minutes and twenty-two seconds that his processors informed him had passed since he had left. That, perhaps, meant that the medic had the situation firmly under control. At least, he liked to think that the mech would have contacted him if things had gone from bad to worse.
"I am not a medic," Ironhide finally settled for.
This time it was Epps' turn to snort as he took off the heavy ear protection. "That wasn't what I asked. Frag it, Ironhide. He's my friend and no one's willing to tell me slag. You scared the crap out of my people this morning and I heard some interesting stories from ground control about something big, winged, and fugly pointing a Gatling gun at Sideswipe not even half an hour ago. You gonna tell me what the frag's going on or do I have to start jumping to conclusions? 'Cause let me tell you, I'm Air Force, and we're fragging good at jumping."
Silence. Some days, Ironhide really missed the time when their small allies had actually been intimidated enough to simply agree with whatever they were told, and then realised a moment later that it had never been the case in the first place for this particular one of the breed. The Sector Seven humans had feared them for the most part. The new recruits, however well-prepared they might think themselves, took months to stop being edgy around them or jump at the sound of Ironhide's cannons. The small group of survivors from Qatar and Mission City, however...
Decision made, Ironhide snorted. "Do so, and I will inform Ratchet of your failure to care for your health and that you will need to be kept under surveillance in the interest of your future well-being."
Epps did seem to falter at that but only for a moment before he frowned, a determined look on his face. "I see your medic and raise you a radio. In fact, why don't we call him right now and I can ask him instead?" He picked up said small radio from a pocket and dangled it in front of Ironhide. "I'm sure he'll be a lot more cooperative if I promise to sic the whole fragging lot of NEST on your ass to hunt you down as a training exercise next time you go AWOL from a medical exam."
And yes, Ironhide also missed the days when he could intimidate someone with his cannons and not get chewed out by Optimus Prime in the process, and while the human had realistically no way of knowing about the current situation for sure, Ironhide still suspected that the man had chosen that course of action for a reason.
"He's there, ain't he? He's with Ratchet," Epps continued and confirmed Ironhide's suspicion, radio still in hand. "I'm not stupid, man. You're pissy and Will and Ratchet ain't here, so I'm guessing you got kicked out. What do you say?"
Silence again, and this time Ironhide's processors took long seconds to react as they wondered just how to handle the situation. "Are you attempting to play 'chicken' with me, human?"
"Slag 'attempting'," Epps snorted. "I'd say I'm doing pretty damn well. Answers or medic. Which one's it gonna be? I've got paperwork to do and I've been waiting way too long already for one of you to show up here to get some answers from as it is."
And lack of intimidation or not, sometimes Ironhide was reminded, too, why he put up with those allies in the first place. They were small and fragile and with pathetically weak weapons but they had the bearings and reckless insanity to pull off the plans that anyone even moderately normal would have put aside as impossible... and that, perhaps, while not something to be encouraged overly much, was still an admirably trait in them.
"He is... less than stable," Ironhide finally said and judging by the small nod he received in return, it only confirmed what Epps had already guessed to some extent. "He asked for Ratchet's assistance. He did not offer any details."
No details, true, but even the fact that he'd asked for their medic spoke volumes to Ironhide and the way he'd asked wasn't exactly comforting, either. Ironhide had known very few warriors who were willing to ask for a medic for anything less than a dire emergency and Lennox had never been one of them.
"So it's serious," Epps guessed and returned the radio to its designated pocket again. He watched Ironhide for several seconds, looking for something that the mech wasn't even sure of, and then the human sighed. "People keep saying 'Seeker' to me like it's supposed to explain everything but it doesn't. I'm human, Ironhide. I don't have a slagging clue about this. If you can't tell me as the boss of NEST, then tell me as someone who's supposed to watch his back in the field. He'd have done the same for me."
Translated, Ironhide knew, the human wouldn't stop asking. He would keep up his enquiries until someone caved or was sufficiently annoyed to give him what he wanted, and Ironhide understood. He might not appreciate having those tactics used on himself but he understood. In a different situation, he would have done the same for the people he called friends.
Optimus had only given orders about how to handle those humans on Diego Garcia that did not find themselves in regular contact with Cybertronians – Lennox' NEST team, after all, knew what had happened, as did his mate and the Witwicky kid – and there was only so long they could keep the realities of the situation hidden. Out of all the humans, Epps was one of the ones who would have the most contact with their new Seeker, in the event that Lennox ever turned out permanently stable enough to take that risk.
It would perhaps be better for all involved if the human in question had been given the time to come to terms with the situation, then, too.
"This information will go no further than you," Ironhide said flatly.
The words were a statement more than anything but Epps nodded, anyway, and offered a frown in return that looked more than a bit angry at the fact that he would even imply that it was necessary to say as much.
"I can keep a secret," he responded just as flatly, daring Ironhide to say anything at all to that. The mech, however, simply nodded in return and powered down his massive cannons completely before he gestured for the human to make himself comfortable on a nearby chunk of concrete.
"Seekers are fundamentally different from any other build of Cybertronian," he began, and under the grey skies of Diego Garcia, a human figure listened attentively as its mechanical counterpart explained.
Optimus, predictably, had been less than enthusiastic about the situation. Not that Will could blame him much. While Ironhide and Sideswipe struck him as the types to be downright cheerful about getting to beat the slag out of someone for training purposes, Optimus had never been that type. Oh, he was absolutely lethal in battle, Will had seen enough to know that without shadow of doubt, but he had never been the type to revel in violence in the way that Sideswipe seemed to, and much less when the target in question was a friend, too.
Optimus had not liked the thought at all, and Ratchet's silent conversation with him had made things only marginally better. Will wasn't sure what the medic had told him but he could imagine it was one of those conversations there was really no good way to handle. 'He's going schizo on us again and needs to have his processors beaten back into place', probably, if in more medically-correct terms... not that Will knew what those would be.
The Seeker had responded when Optimus had appeared in the hangar but nothing that the combined efforts of Will and Ratchet couldn't keep in check – medic and reluctant to fight or not, Ratchet had put the fear of Primus into the thing – and by the time the two mechs had finished their discussions, the effects of Ratchet's EMP generator had worn off enough for Will to be back on his feet again, absentmindedly moving one limb after another to test that everything was back to... if not normal, then as normal as it would ever get in his new body.
The Seeker watched Optimus Prime with unconcealed annoyance even as the human part focused on Ratchet as the mech spoke, and if that wasn't a recipe for insanity in the making, he didn't know what was.
"A training session like the ones you have been put through by Ironhide would be the safest option," Ratchet explained. "I am aware that Optimus has an advantage with his blades, so unarmed combat would be-"
Weak, the Seeker snarled from where it waited impatiently in the back of his processors and sharpened its mental claws, a predator eyeing a potential challenger for its domain.
Ratchet arched what would have passed for an eyebrow and only then did Will realise he had spoken the word out loud. "Weak," he repeated with a sigh and tried to translate alien emotions into something that made sense as he looked at Optimus instead. "It says that unarmed combat would be weak. Sorry, sir, but you would be holding back."
Optimus nodded slowly. "It would not accept the outcome." A glance at the medic, exchanging more silent words, and then he nodded. "Close quarters combat, then, as humans would call it. Would it use its firearms?"
A quick successions of emotions and images, lingering on the brief fight against Sideswipe, and Will waited another moment to be completely sure the thing wouldn't argue before he raised his head slightly. "Not in a fight like this, sir. War would be different. This is..."
About ego, about pride, about showing off, and there wasn't much of that in just gunning someone down. Up close and personal took a lot more skill to handle – skills that Will knew without doubt that neither he nor the Seeker actually had, but if the bird-brain was too stupid to understand that, then Will would fragging cheerfully put up with an aft-kicking if it managed to put the damn thing back in its place again.
"Close combat," Ratchet agreed when Will didn't continue. "The training grounds would be suitable, then. He doesn't have close combat weapons but those hands are not without their use..." A glance at Will. "And neither are his wings."
Weak, the Seeker sent again, dark annoyance following the word as Will felt its patience rapidly slip again, Ratchet nearby to rein it in or not. This is not battle. This is groundling weakness. A Seeker would have fought. Pathetic waste of Energon.
Will didn't respond to that – because really, what could he say that wasn't going to send the thing into another furious rant – and instead he looked at Ratchet again. "Ironhide should be there."
In case something went too far, in case he became dangerous, however unlikely that might be, and the Seeker added its smug agreement, images of claiming the dark mech in triumphant, bloodied victory flickering through their shared processors. Will didn't bother arguing, not if it meant getting Ironhide there without the Seeker bitching to high hell about it.
Ratchet nodded and Will didn't need to ask to know that the mech was speaking silently with Ironhide. A moment later he glanced back at Will, something in his expression that Will didn't quite recognise as he watched him carefully. "Ironhide is currently in the company of Robert Epps on the shooting range."
It took Will a second to realise why he should actually care, much less what Ratchet was asking, and when he did, he tensed before he could help it.
Bobby.
Small, fragile, vulnerable, human... but Ratchet was asking, wasn't he, or he would just have ordered Ironhide's aft back, company be fragged. Long seconds stretched out as Ratchet watched him, waiting for the answer, and Will's wings shifted slightly, silent tension in them before he could stop it.
Ratchet wouldn't have asked if he'd thought Will would be a danger to his human friend, and that meant that he honestly wanted Will's opinion on the matter, and that scared Will more than he cared to admit. On one hand it was a friend who had already seen him several times in his new body, however briefly; someone who was used to the weirdness of Diego Garcia and wouldn't run away screaming at the sight; someone human and normal and familiar. On the other hand, he was definitely not at his best and he was about to get the slag kicked out of him because the Seeker was too stupid to know what it was doing.
Ignoring the angry snarl from the Seeker at that particular thought, he turned his attention back to Ratchet. "Will it..." Will it be a danger, will it mind, will it be a good idea, will-
"Why don't you ask it?" Ratchet suggested, and if he had been annoyed at what Will had belatedly realised might be taken as implying he would deliberately put a human at risk, he didn't show it.
It was a nice, simple, reasonable idea, and with the Seeker's current mood, it was something Will really didn't want to to do, either. He didn't think he had much of a choice, though, and with a wordless thought, he focused on that alien presence in his processors and shifted through the images he got in response.
Jumbled, confused – anger at Optimus, annoyance at the time it all took, smugness at the thought of Ironhide watching, and digging deeper he found an echo of a bit of the same smugness joined by bemusement at the thought of the human. Small, weak, fragile, but not a danger, and Will slowly released the tension in his wings.
"It wouldn't mind," he finally said. Winning, the Seeker would have another member of the audience to admire it. Losing... wasn't a concept that even registered in its mind, and Will doubted anything short of a thorough defeat would help on that, either.
"And you?" Ratchet asked, still with that unreadable look, and Will raised his head slightly, defiantly.
"He's a friend. I'll have to deal with him sooner or later. So maybe I'm still so fragged up I'd make Starscream look sane but he's probably going to see that sooner or later, anyway. Might as well make it now."
Whatever Ratchet had been looking for, he apparently found it, because Will got a satisfied nod in return.
"Then it is settled. They will meet us on the training grounds. Optimus?"
The larger mech merely nodded a confirmation in that solemn, regal way that still impressed Will sometimes, and then they walked out of the hangar and into the overcast world of Diego Garcia.
If the Seeker had any doubts about the whole clusterfrag, Will realised, it hid them well.
If asked afterwards, Will Lennox would not have been able to say if it had been a horrible mistake or a really fragging good idea. A mix of both, probably, like most things he had found himself doing since he learned about the existence of giant, alien robots. His bad temper courtesy of one annoying as slag, interface-deprived Seeker didn't help at all, either, and maybe that was why he had gone along with said idea. Temporary insanity and all.
The walk to the training grounds had felt longer than it had any right to and the Seeker had been caught somewhere between anger at the time it took – Seekers, Will had quickly learned, weren't big believers in waiting for anything – and smug, proud satisfaction at the fight that was about to start.
Images flickered through his mind, lingering on one or two before they moved on with no say whatsoever from Will – torn plating, Optimus on his knees, Ironhide's hands on his wings in reverent worship and acknowledgement of his rightful place as a superior being, and Will pushed back as much as he could, adding a mental snort for good measure.
You're delusional. You're going to get your aft slagged in fifteen seconds flat. Twenty if he's feeling nice.
He had expected to get annoyance in return but not the miffed feeling of the Seeker being insulted that came with it, memories of their first proper talk in recharge in Ratchet's infirmary following right on its tail. Annoyance, anger, hesitation, agreement-
We agreed on a truce, the Seeker said, affronted. I keep my word.
'Truce' didn't include helping you do your damn best to kill my commanding officer because you need to get laid, Will snapped back.
More images – that same torn plating and the impression that the wounds weren't as bad as they looked, dominance for the sake of peace, of protection, of prosperity instead of raw power – and Will shuddered imperceptibly as the Seeker turned its full siren song of power-freedom-flight-control on him.
He is weak. Decepticons kill weakness. We are not Decepticon. He is weak and we will claim what is ours and we will end this war.
You're going to get slagged, Will bit out and shook off the faint haze of agreement that had clouded his processors from the full force of the Seeker's attention. The training grounds came into view, a black metal figure waiting next to a much smaller human one as they approached, and he was quickly running out of time to argue with that other, unwanted part of his processors.
Truce! the Seeker snarled, hard and demanding, and Will almost shuddered at the surge of emotions that followed and made the issue entirely too clear.
Fine, he snarled right back. You think it's going to make a damn bit of a difference if I help? Fine. You got it but you slagging well better accept the outcome when you get your aft kicked, then, because I'm not doing this every fragging week because you're too stupid to get the point.
He wasn't a Seeker, didn't know the first thing about mech-style combat beyond what Ironhide had managed to drill into his skull, but if that was what it would take to shut the damn thing up, then by Primus, he would slagging well do that.
The Seeker went utterly still for a moment and then he felt a wordless agreement before it surged to the forefront of his mind to take over as they approached their battle ground and Will mentally stepped back a bit to let it.
I agree, human. My word as a Seeker.
Ironhide watched him, Epps watched him, Ratchet watched him, but Will didn't care, his attention focused on the Seeker as he forced himself to release the heavy shields he had tried to put up to stay in control. Hesitant and fumbling to begin with, the first time since that initial flight that he had really stopped trying to subconsciously block out the alien influence, and then a chain reaction as the tension that had held it all together suddenly snapped. One mental boulder after another crumbled as Optimus stopped and turned, solid walls falling apart to rocks, to rubble, to sand, and something surged to sweep aside what little dust finally remained.
The Gatling gun forcibly locked without any thought from Will at all, flight systems came online in a flurry of activity, and the deep vibrations of engines humming with barely restrained energy sang through his very body.
Ratchet watched them for a moment, nodded once, firmly, and then he stepped back-
- And a dozen things happened the instant later; the sound of Optimus' swords as they were unsheathed, the song of engines, metal against concrete as two mechs moved, the glow of optics and energy and clouded daylight against polished plating-
- And in the back of Will's processors, something stirred.
Optimus moved, impossibly fast and fluid and lethal, but the Seeker was in the air a moment later, spun and turned even as it tried to strike and missed, and Will heard the song of blades slicing through air, heat and metal and the smell of the generator that powered it all as he barely evaded the weapon.
Faster than 'Bee, faster than Sideswipe, and there was no way in Pit that they could win and Will found he didn't even care. Energon sang in his body, the roar of his engines as even the speed of the Seeker in half-flight couldn't match a Prime, and the fight against Sideswipe had nothing on what they faced now. The Seeker had struggled against Ironhide's lessons, Will had struggled against the attack on Sideswipe, and for the first time they worked together-
- like trine-mates should-
- and the final bits of the puzzle clicked.
Human complimented Seeker complimented human, and searing pain flared through their processors as plating met plating and was dismissed the moment later, and even that sword that almost struck true and was barely deflected in time only made the Energon surge stronger and if he hadn't been so busy fighting to even remain standing, Will would have laughed.
This was battle, this was war, this was unfettered fury, and this was what he was sparked for.
Deep gorges marked red and blue as claws struck hard and were returned with interests as even the Seeker was too slow to evade completely, but even the burn of searing Energon swords couldn't keep back the feeling of pure triumph.
Engines roared again, half-flight and half-combat as he was forced back into the defensive again, and the relentless barrage of attacks that followed was calculated and meticulous and impossible to evade. He retreated against his will, one hard strike after another tearing through his defences, and it was both a testament to Optimus' skill and how much they still had left to learn that neither Will nor the Seeker saw the blow that ended it.
One second they were on their feet, the next they were on the ground, head slamming into concrete to send their processors reeling, and with a flare of molten yellow and a shower of sparks one lethal sword drove into the ground not two feet from Will's head.
It was a statement even the Seeker couldn't have argued against and to Will's surprise, it didn't even try. Temporarily stunned systems came back online, sent painful messages from every sensor node on his wings and a list of damages that was impossibly long for a battle that had lasted less than thirty seconds, and the Seeker didn't even care about that.
"Holy slag," Will whispered and ran a hand across his still-ringing head.
Energon surged and optics flared in sheer pleasure, and this time Will couldn't hold back a laugh. Harsh, joyous, breathless as intakes worked overtime, and there was clear concern in Optimus' frown as he retracted his swords again.
"Major?"
The Seeker surged in his mind, brilliant and lethal and defiant as it echoed the thrill of it all, and Will didn't know if it was speaking or if he was and it didn't matter, not now, not anymore.
Holy slag, he repeated and heard the Seeker echo the sentiment. Let's-
"- do that again."