Disclaimer: Hasbro and Takara-Tomy own Transformers. I just like hounding their giant robots.
Warnings: I'm back on all my nonsense again. Run.
"All I Do Is Shirk"
Cypress wished she'd talked to RoadRage earlier; maybe Sunny wouldn't have blocked the energon dispenser. Then she wouldn't have gotten distracted drinking to ensure a stray elbow didn't empty half the cube down her chest plating in the halls.
"Really?" she groused.
"It's a free preview." Sunstreaker mimed a diagonal chest slash across his over-shined midsection.
The energon in her tank was souring, but she kept a blank expression. It lasted all of three nanos. Her fangs then clenched in a snarl, dispensing just enough venom to light the corner of her mouth.
Sunny strode off in the opposite direction. "Disgusting." But he left her alone.
A smile creased the venom-stained corner of her mouth. The jerk left.
Cypress still had to give up on eating. The diluted slurry was already hardening in her seams. Worse, her arm wouldn't stop shaking. At least it wasn't from not eating.
Ratchet let on it was a good idea to cut back on energon usage. The Ark had had its share of shortages. Some halls weren't lit, fewer training drills were run, and the energon got cut with more supplements. Whatever filler Ratch had used reminded her of the artificial bite of stevia sweetener. It was like licking a wet tire. Maybe she should bum some more fish from Voltage.
She scraped at the now itching patches of pale blue. It had the nasty side-effect of irritating new spines and making her scratch worse.
Voltage caught her about to pull paint off her arms.
"I can't leave you alone for two kilks… Showers, pup. You do have them on this rusty tub?"
Cypress scraped up the few spines that had fallen loose to stow away. "Yeah, yeah, c'mon."
After so many rounds of Ambush, they were allowed to finish the rest of the cycle. The fugitive Seeker was free, barring any incidents. There wasn't any point in locking Voltage up. Nothing could hold her outside of stasis.
Voltage sipped her energon, keeping Cy's pace, "This has to stop. You can't even eat."
Cypress shrugged, ducking her body lower.
"Non. Even Eukarian worms have more backbone than you."
Cypress forgot the wash rack doorway was a slide, attempted to kick it open, and headbutted it instead.
Voltage strolled in, no problem, and added an annoyed wing-flick. "Like I said, sad."
Cypress opened her mouth to defend herself, got venom on her arm, and had to give her systems time to reclaim it.
Voltage paused, "I see. Points for retaliation."
Like all horrible ideas, Cypress hadn't been planning on attacking Sunny. Ambush was just a game, right? No hard feelings.
After the first dry bite, fear turned to resentment, which morphed into trying to strip the mech for parts.
Cypress could have withdrawn and let the venom do its work in a real fight. She should have in this situation. The bastard cornered her with no warning; it was only fair he got the same.
"Now what?"
"Keep that up." Voltage's mood perked immediately on going further into the steam-filled racks. "Look who it is! Armorless and vulnerable, just for me."
Drift's considerably lighter frame bristled as much as it could without plating. "Oh, it's you again."
Yeah, he was—Cypress paused. Could robots be naked?
"How do you like being a free-range bounty?" RoadRage wasn't any better. Cypress didn't know where to look.
The Seeker spread her wings and arms to their full extent, "Feels wonderful."
Cypress wasn't sure what she expected to be under everyone's plating in person. It was only more of the identical coils of wiring, big swaths of translucent protoform, and hardware. She didn't expect to feel a pinch of disappointment mixed in with the discomfort.
A solvent stream smacked her in the face, obscuring her optic feed.
"Voltage!"
"So, your ears do work! You want me to help you first?"
Cypress folded her arms over her chassis, a much easier task now with a less human-influenced chest. The private stalls were right there. Yet here they were, out in the open. "You all just shower together?"
"Sometimes," Drift piped up, "Bigger bases and ships have separate stalls and areas. No one minds."
"You're naked, though."
"Sometimes when you talk, your voice fritzes out into gibberish." RoadRage countered, "What's that last part?"
"You don't have a word for 'no armor'?"
"Yeah, stupid." Drift said.
"We don't do that back home much, at least not where I'm from." There were the gym showers, of course, but only some people outside the Phys Ed class and sports teams used them. Thankfully, she'd skipped that experience from scheduling conflicts.
RoadRage shrugged it off, "There's nothing wrong with it. It's just not smart. No armor opens you up to an easy attack. Besides, everything important is on the inside."
"And you shed your plating around strangers?" Voltage said flatly.
"No?" Drift partially snorted, "Do you know how fast it'd get stolen for scrap? And if you're not the most popular 'Con, much worse. Want to see?"
Seeing as he was already partially stripped-Cypress couldn't help but see. His protoform was more scar tissue than untouched soft metal. Drift trusted Rager enough to be vulnerable, then. Despite that, he was slowly rearming himself.
The Seeker didn't look comfortable with it either.
Voltage started hosing her down with ruthless efficiency. Cypress squirmed, "Femme, that tickles."
"Oh?" she focused the stream tighter.
"That's it," Cypress grabbed the nearest showerhead and returned fire.
It devolved into switching between alt-modes as she tried to hit Voltage again. All of Rilo's dancing and dodging play in the past suddenly made sense. The Seeker took to the side of the walls, shooting her from above. Cypress ran along, keeping a steady spray on her. This—this was fun.
"I swear if you electrocute us…" RoadRage trailed off.
Voltage snorted, "I haven't made it this far doing that scrap."
Cypress jumped her from the side with an extra nozzle, knocking her sideways. "Your turn."
The Seeker relented and let her get to work cleaning the packed-in grit her plating with nearby brushes. There was a frustrating patch of gravel stuck under her calf plating.
"Okay, I'm going to need this panel off."
"Only one section at a time."
"Any particular reason?"
"On Eukaris, it's viewed as a punishment to be stripped down fully. Not the best thing to be during any time of year. Need some help with those paint transfers?"
"Yeah."
Voltage got to work detailing her helm. Cypress kept picking at the brush that had built up from the last fight. The Preda wolf was just getting to her healing joint when RoadRage spoke up.
"Maybe Sunny likes you." RoadRage suddenly offered, "Everyone shows affection differently."
Cypress wasn't sure what an aneurysm felt like, but her processor stalling felt close to it. The silence skipped Voltage, who decided to share vague sounds of an old song over bond instead of responding. Drift had nothing to add but a narrow side-eye to give his hunting partner.
The funny thing was Cypress wanted to keep things civil between her and Rager. RoadRage wasn't awful. It was time to be—open.
Cy finally broke, "Did that sound better in your helm?"
The vehi femme did not answer. "I mean, maybe it is one of those things where you're cruel to be kind? That's all I had."
That was good because anything romantic was questionable at best and made her want to scrub her nonexistent skin off. Somehow threats of bodily harm felt safer.
"He's been making my life hell."
"You should be the bigger person. He's probably nice deep down."
Cypress shook her helm, "Sure, we'll try that. I've seen what killers look like. He's that," her voice dropped to a mutter, "The crazy rat bastard."
It wasn't quiet enough, and the swordsmech snorted. "Yeah, that's murderous intent. Sunny smells like it," Drift said. "Not hard to work with, awful to cross, only slightly less bad than tanks to room with because—" the mech paused. "Never mind. That's a story for when you're older. Moral of the story: avoid tanks."
Somehow a living tank being real never crossed Cypress' processor. "Do they threaten you in the showers?"
"Among other things, yes."
"Easy fix, get some friends together, put his helm through the wall, get an electric prod, and make him beg for mercy." Voltage added cheerily.
Drift was smiling.
"Yeah, no. Thanks, though."
RoadRage looked around, "I don't get it. If Sunny's being that bad, just tell Optimus."
"You're how old, Rager? There's a lot you 'don't get'. I complain, it gets back to 'Hide or Sunny, then I'm the problem. I'm the weak one who can't handle being here. This doesn't leave the racks. Please?"
"Fine. I still don't think you know what you're doing."
"That makes two of us."
Bumblebee clomped in as they finished with uneven steps and a turbofox clinging to one leg.
"Drift…Gidget won't leave me alone."
All the swordsmech had to do was whistle. Gidget followed him out like a second shadow. "I have an appointment with the twins anyway. Try not to get into mischief."
Electricity crawled up the door, sealing them in. Voltage feigned blowing some dust off her claws. "Cool, he's gone. I need to ask a big favor of you all."
"No." Bee spat.
"It comes with perks. It's hard to be a functional trine when we cant help each other." The Seeker eyed RoadRage, "Or a quad."
The bounty hunter cringed, "Isn't being able to hear you guys bad enough?"
"If this weren't important, I wouldn't ask you. "Voltage's optics were dimming, not for lack of power, but redirecting energy to avoid internal damage. "If you help me level my energy off, maybe the internal chaos will quiet down. And you know what they say, energy is just as good as energon."
Bumblebee puffed his armor, "No one says that."
"I'm tired of seeing scrap." Cypress opened her palms and freed her cables. "It could be a trial, just for now."
Voltage took her servo. Then Bee. Rager waited, took Bee's, and held off accepting Voltage's.
"It's all in or nothing, hunter."
RoadRage caved, "Look, not for long, okay?"
Cypress relaxed as the showers faded into static.
Back in her mind, the TV was oozing black from its broken screen. The inky gunk coated every inch of the floor, complete with glass shards to make a mimicry of the night skies.
Cypress got to work cleaning what she could. The floor was a complete loss. Memories were strewn everywhere in the form of cheap DVD cases and crumpled-up sketches.
Then someone laughed. From inside the wall.
"Goddamn, freaky robots…"
It didn't have the echoey horror of a phantom. Worse, it was the disjointed squeal of a younger Cybertronian. Another spoke, and both laughed again. They weren't hurt, at least. Against her better judgment, she yelled. "What's so funny?"
They both quieted. Then RoadRage spoke up, alone. "Cypress?"
"I'm in here."
RoadRage knocked at a wall until Cypress snagged her flailing arm, and the hunter phased right through the wall.
"What in blazes…" she flinched at Cypress' old organic form. "Wha-" The femme was trying not to snatch her arm away.
"This is what I used to look like; this was home."
Rager was still taller than her, still made of metal. This time, she was less disgusted.
"You're squishy."
"More or less."
"You don't have any external plating?!"
"No, that's called body armor. You have to buy it."
"You're like an axolotl!"
Having been called much worse, Cypress decided to take that as a compliment. "They're pets on Juros?"
"Kinda like Gasket, really cute. It's frogs that are scary… So humans are like axolotls?"
"Sorta…no. Not really."
"Can I touch you?"
"No, but thank you for asking first. "
RoadRage finally stopped long enough to look around, "Wow! Lockney was right. It's pretty bad in here."
"Loudmouth!"
Lockdown let off a tinge of amusement before slithering back into his side.
"That was you guys being all creepy in the walls, then. What's it like on your side?"
Rager's enthusiasm dulled, "It's a secret. We share."
Cypress made a face and taunted the wall, "See. This is what boundaries look like. At least she's not blinding people and stealing their bodies!"
"That was one time." The wall growled back.
"Lockney—Stop. Doing. Atrocities. We've talked about this."
"What? No one got hurt."
"You made Jazz freak out again."
Cypress dropped back to the couch to dig out any stray papers. As the argument drew to a close, a pulse of electricity began throbbing through the bond. Moving around got more manageable, as did organizing her thoughts.
Cypress felt along one wall until taloned digits entwined with her fingers.
As the connection readjusted, a neutral plane appeared, all silver and full of sand. Voltage solidified, and Bumblebee finally faded in, looking like he'd lost his best friend.
He didn't notice they could see him.
"Bee?"
The scout jerked, wings shooting back up to his standard perk before he turned. "What's up?"
Cypress raised an optic ridge.
"I just…I haven't been in here in a while. I forgot where it puts me."
RoadRage rubbed at her arms, "This one feels funny. How long do we have to stay in here?"
"Just until I can balance my energy levels."
The older femme already was drawing back.
"It'll give your spark a boost. Nothing fishy."
As she spoke, a warm river of light rushed around them. The tingle was near indescribable. Cypress stretched lazily, her vents evened to a whisper.
~ And that's the magic of relaxing. ~
Cypress stared up at Voltage's blurry-edged representation. The sensation sharpened into pain, and, all too soon, it broke.
Outside, one light fixture had blown, a showerhead was thrashing around, spurting water, the door wasn't locked, and RoadRage was on the verge of a panic attack. Bee scrambled to replace the sprayer, and Cypress followed.
Voltage shook her helm. "Rager? Talk."
"It's not me…I…it's not me. I don't think…."
The Seeker forced her to sit still, talons on RoadRages's shoulders, "Take it easy. Reset your vents."
Cypress hung close just in case the hunter needed to be sedated by force. How she was going to do that, she could figure out later. It was better than having Rager rampage out of fear.
Voltage sent a few thrums, finally settling her, "Better?"
"A bit."
"What happened in there?"
Rager finally sighed, "The original members panicked."
Voltage straightened, "Well, I'm calling it quits. That's enough for today."
"Thanks for the spark attack," RoadRage droned, "Why didn't you tell me about what Sunny did before?"
Cypress jerked. Lockdown. "It's none of your business."
"So you weren't going to tell anyone he's been threatening you to that degree? I thought you were being hypothetical!"
"No? I thought we were all on the same page?"
"Even getting cornered in the racks?"
She was feeling too good to want to explain herself. To explain why that mech made her want to kill and run all at the same time.
Cypress let a shrug roll from her shoulders but ended in a jerk. "What good would it do? No one's going to help."
Voltage settled into a deep, unsurprised slouch. "I would have."
And just like that, she felt like a world-class jerk. It worsened when Bee followed Voltage's admission with both servos framing her face.
Everything felt strewn together but clearer than it had been in months.
Cy expected her sister to be glaring annoyance, not concern.
"That's it. The first rule, we stick together. This slag doesn't fly anymore."
"Why do you make the rules?" RoadRage started, only partially challenging.
"Because I know how to negotiate hostile situations without weapons."
Voltage kept her confidence up until she caught the muffled gurgle of someone trying to purge as quietly as possible.
"Negotiate that."
Cypress surrendered to the situation and pulled away from Bee. Who'd turned all attention to the other stall. This whole setup was like Marci on the rare occasion she stayed out drinking with Michaels. Back before USCIV started pulling her away.
Bee went from worried sick to his blank "all-business" mask. Just like on missions, she got pulled behind him.
It was Jazz. At least the color scheme matched. The jittery movements didn't fit him. He was coming down from a scare.
Bee studied him, face wrinkling up. "You're ok?"
"Nah. Might have had a flashback. I'll be fine."
Everything in his EM field said, 'stay away'. Really strange for Jazz. He wouldn't turn around either.
"Honestly, you're still such a sparkling," RoadRage muttered, pushing past them and Jazz's bad vibes. "Come on. You can tell me about it while we get you cleaned up."
Voltage hung back to enjoy the show.
"Get out, Con." He growled.
She instead came closer and leaned over him. "As much as it would please me to watch you suffer–" Voltage snatched both his horns and drew him up until their helms touched. "We need you."
Voltage eased him back down with smoking audio horns. "Less nauseous?"
"Yeah."
"What do we say?" the partial Seeker prompted.
"Frag you," Jazz drawled, "An thanks."
RoadRage sighed, "I've got him. Guess we're done for the day. That's not what made you sick, is it?"
He took on his blank mask, "N–"
"Jazz…" she snapped.
"It didn't help. Been a little worked up lately."
"You're not a nervous purger." Bee said.
"Ah know. Go on, I'll be fine soon."
Jazz eyed Cypress, "Don't think I forgot about you. Command deck in a joor."
"Got it." She ran a simple scan over him.
"Come here," RoadRage muscled in, already prepping a spray nozzle.
Back in her room, Bee wasn't sated. "It has to be the bond. He's acting off again."
"He'll be fine. It's not all our doing." Voltage shifted her wings, "We only have two members left to reunite."
"You can read all this?"
"Yeah? I see all of you as sensations, and half are giving off cursed vibes. I'm counting my blessings. You three are manageable."
Terri warbled at the door, and Cypress allowed her in. The poor thing looked exhausted and was shivering slightly. Cy started wrapping her in what was supposed to be her sandstorm gear. A little fabric cut off the edges made an excellent vest for the bird. She redirected her vents to blow heat on her. A bit of energon later, Terri was dozing in her lap; legs tucked tight against her belly.
Bee started poking at her feathers. "I'm worried about Jazz."
"Don't be, he's tough." Voltage frowned, "You should be happy. How many times has he hacked you guys?"
"I forgot. Doesn't bother me."
"Enough it doesn't bug me. I thought it came with the job?"
"Anyway. Jazz'll be more than fine. He has a wonderful sitter. I don't think he'll mind."
Voltage meant him being weird around RoadRage. After being around the awful tension of whatever Marci, Eric, and Michaels had going on, she wasn't eager to see the drama play out.
"You're still babying Terri." Bee groaned.
"I think she is a baby; she's still fluffy."
Bee dropped his helm on her shoulder.
"Want me to wrap you up too?"
He curled closer, seeming just to take comfort in being nearby. "You're not going to leave yet, are you?"
That wasn't a question. He was begging.
"Not immediately," Cypress shrugged, "You wanna watch something?" She picked something at random and settled into his side.
"You shouldn't rely so much on entertainment to fill the void of conversation. Say what's on your mind." Voltage scolded.
Bumblebee raised his helm slightly, "Want to hear about the time my guardian almost died?"
"Not particularly." The Preeker eyed him cautiously, "Video it is then."
He was giving off EM signals closer to one of her depressive moods, and Cypress was at a loss for how to fix it.
"This one's got an audio description so you can enjoy it too. It's all in English, though."
Voltage didn't seem bothered as she plopped down behind them to add to the pile of bodies. The Seeker's face scrunched when she began deciphering the Ark's English data-pack. "Oh. The rec room screen wasn't glitching. They sound like our medic!"
Her talons moved along animatedly as she gestured. "Weirdwolf got damaged in a turf war. It takes us kliks to translate what he's saying in real-time."
Away from the rest of the team, Voltage was more engaged. Her whole frame lit up. Figuratively.
Bee's servo was traveling. He found an irregular section of her side, then a healing divot in her hip plating, and clamped a palm over it. He relaxed with a purr.
In the remaining time she had before punishment detail, Cypress found a comfortable spot over his grill to drop into half power. Voltage was still engaged with the pad.
"What did you see in there anyway?"
"The Rust Sea."
"No?"
He snorted, "It's a place. An old sea bed, a desert, no one's sure. That's where we lived before Iacon."
They didn't bother with anything else until Cypress' HUD pinged.
Voltage followed along with a spring in her step. "That went well."
"For us."
"I'm not complaining," the Seeker shrugged.
Cypress spotted Sunny the nano she stepped into the bridge. His armor was patched with gauze, and his EM screamed: livid.
Without looking back, he made an unfamiliar, probably lewd servo gesture. Cypress returned it with the only one she knew.
"You two need to get more creative."
She didn't expect it to be Prime that said it. The huge mech continued, "That's why you're here now."
Sunny offered a light snort.
"Don't start. You're in here as well."
Cypress cringed away to the nearest console, complete with the Cybertronian equivalent of a sticky note.
'Organize newest ship logs.'
She took a look at the flickering screen and frowned. Cybertronian dates still made no sense to her; everything besides the dates else she could make out. Her sister perched on the console, "That goes before last orn. Star position, year, orn, cycle, time."
"Oh. Everything looks like ISBN codes."
"We're in such good servos." Sunny hissed.
In a turn of events, it was Voltage who snatched Cypress' arm back when she tried to hurl a pad at the back of his helm.
Oblivious and intent on keeping the conversation on track, Prime kept going. "How much hand do you all know?"
"Enough."
"None."
"'Nia made me learn Cy-Stan hand. I forgot half of it."
He held up one servo with a twist index, middle, and thumb out. "This means frag you. "
He went through a few more before looking up, "Better than verbal and physical threats?"
Ah yes, direct callouts. Cypress died a little inside. "Yessir."
"And it's better than harassing 'formers half your size."
Sunny had the decency to squirm.
"We don't have time nor resources for infighting. Cypress, you're helping with his wounds."
"I don't want her touching me."
"I'm sure the feeling is mutual. And it will keep happening as long as you leave marks on each other. OK, sparklings?"
Cypress croaked out her compliance and wondered if it were possible to have dad-shaming as a superpower.
:: Just replace the gauze. I'll do the touch-up. Don't. Mess. With. My. Finish. ::
The increasingly homicidal part of her mind wanted to yell, 'What finish?'. She was proud of wrecking his stupid look, but not crazy enough to voice that.
:: OK. ::
Voltage was trying out new signs in earnest. "This is more interesting, at least," Voltage said. "You're not what I expected at all, Prime."
"Oh?"
"The Decepticons don't talk about you as much. You are in the old ads but never in focus."
And Cypress' tank sunk into the floor. If this was Voltage's docile act, she was doing a good job.
~ Why? ~
~ Kicked out or not, he was still in Decepticon high command. I'm curious. ~
"That's not ads; it's propaganda." Prime responded simply, "They deleted most visual records of me with command. I became the bad image."
"You don't seem the type."
"How would you know?"
"Let's say I'm good at reading people."
They fell into a quiet rhythm punctuated by Voltage's questions.
Cypress finally let the tension out of her shoulders. Minus a bit of pressure on one optic, she was fine.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Lockdown hated this bond.
After today's attack, he could hear everything at once. Worse, someone was playing elevator music. He didn't realize that was possible.
"Are you back yet?"
His optic cycled once, and then he refocused on the ship's control panel and Arcee looming over him. And Oil Slick with some noxious-smelling rock.
"What the frag, mech."
"You've been staring into space for joors," Slick answered with an equally flat tone echoing from his helmet.
"Thanks, Slick."
The two-wheeler didn't budge. "Your original team is back, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"Got it."
Slick wasn't one to make small talk. The mech spent most of his cycles hidden away in his lab, deep in Death's Heads internal workings experimenting with his anyone cared to ask, Lockdown preferred it that way.
Arcee was still watching him with predatory intent. "It only hurts you if you resist."
"Hmm."
"Are you listening?"
"Trying to. Someone's playing music at full volume!"
Lockdown didn't mention the random string of incorrect dates and a separate text string correcting them. Or something about sand. Or the static fuzz. Or the quiet pleading.
"Oh, you've got it bad…." Arcee's concern morphed into mischief. "This could be fun."
"How?"
"It'll be easier to track them now."
Basically, the team bond dynamic is any Top 40 Mashup, but it's all Nightcore, punk covers, poorly ripped tracks, and lo-fi elevator music.
Pro tip: don't play any of the above (or Skrillex or 00's girl groups) for a 12-hour road trip. That's how you get DJ privileges taken away.
