CHROMIA

Finally, he speaks.

She can feel the same tug towards each other that he feels. Sparks knowing one another, yearning, happy to be this close - they want more.

"Yes, you are bonded. A lovely mate, albeit unlikely in this universe, some might say. But he suits you so well. And yes, you have sparklings. Quite the lovely bunch. Rambunctious and strong, as are their creators."

Chromia pauses for a moment. Another sip of energon. A pang at her spark. She's missed Him. It feels like she's staring at a dream version of Ironhide all over again. Feels so real, so close, and yet it's not.

A dream...

Wait! The dreams... could this be related?

She will wait to ask later.

"Ah, Steeltrap? I suspected that he would find you before I did. Yes, that bird is Ours. I didn't stutter - before you even ask all offended. No, we did not create him, but we are raising him, for lack of better words. He is a hunter now, thanks to you. And a proper mech with some manners and political ability, thanks to me."

Chromia had to smirk about it a bit. She hated politics and yet she was so good at it.

Sparklings.

His mind screeches, and he does his best to rein in the need to take to the skies and leave this madness behind. He might be choking on air, his vents rattling like a broken machine. The frag? The actual slaggin' frag?

He hardlined with the femme?! He... Aaaah, no. No no no no. That's private, is literally as invasive as a merging and he's never given himself to anybot that way! And, his spark...! A shudder runs through him, and he shakes his head to get rid of the sensation of an unwanted touch.

"I... am bonded by spark, Dancer, and I've got multiple sparklings. Ember, Chord, Zephyr. And, you say w-we... raised...? No. No, I've never...!" His optics are wide, alarmed. "I only ever swore myself to my Prime, and he is dead because I wasn't fast enough! There's no bot else, there never was anybot else, and I'm grieving! I would never...!"

There's something lodged in his throat, the vague memory of... Of... Why, why isn't he able to remember?! He glares at the femme, Sapphire, and wants to rip her helm off for making him feel.

"I don't know you, and there's only one of me!" Agitated, he gets out of the seat, backing away, mind reeling with questions he can't even begin to formulate. "This... This is..." His intakes are hitching, and he has never felt as alone as now. When he finally manages to speak, what comes out, is a sob.

"There's never just one of us darling. You should know this. You do know this. As far as the universe goes, it more than likely is different for you. My Devcon, if I had to guess is in your place."

She wants to soothe him, but touching him might be unsafe.

"Hey, listen to me. There is no universe where YOU were too slow. Or where YOU were to blame for the loss of your Prime."

Chromia paused for a moment. Hmm, perhaps this would help.

She laughed some before turning around to sit her fine blue aft on plush seats on the terrace. Legs crossed, demeanor relaxed. A delicate servo extends towards the adjacent seat.

"Sit. It won't bite. There's jet fuel on the table. Scan it if you wish."

Chromia allowed her code to sweetly dance with his, as it always happened. It offered promises of answers and comfort, if he wished for it.

"You know me. You feel it too. It scares you. I don't blame you. It scares me as well. But you're here with me so ask your questions. Oh, and your friend ", she motioned to his cannon "That's my friend too."

Chromia reached for a Cube of high grade herself. A small sip.

Anything is better than being within proximity of an unknown bot who knows far too much of how he operates and functions. His frame and spark, however, are not into the idea, so he resigns himself and does as asked.

Within moments he has taken the high grade, and forces himself to sip slowly, no matter how fast his processor is running. This close, their connection feels like a steady lullaby, and it pulls at him. This far, he has recognised several tightly woven links that run from his base coding and spark, and specifically one of them is a spark bond.

The femme and he... There's been merging, but not -

His intakes stutter.

"There's... a spark bond, a mate." It's hard to say it out loud, feels like sacrilege to even breath the word. There are, ah, sparklings? Not built, but created? Now, his processor is hurting, and his spark is wailing right back. "I met a... He imprinted on me! He's a hunter, no matter what he thinks," he mutters, rubbing a hand over a lower arm in distress.

Finally, he speaks.

She can feel the same tug towards each other that he feels. Sparks knowing one another, yearning, happy to be this close - they want more.

"Yes, you are bonded. A lovely mate, albeit unlikely in this universe, some might say. But he suits you so well. And yes, you have sparklings. Quite the lovely bunch. Rambunctious and strong, as are their creators."

Chromia pauses for a moment. Another sip of energon. A pang at her spark. She's missed Him. It feels like she's staring at a dream version of Ironhide all over again. Feels so real, so close, and yet it's not.

A dream...

Wait! The dreams... could this be related?

She will wait to ask later.

"Ah, Steeltrap? I suspected that he would find you before I did. Yes, that bird is Ours. I didn't stutter - before you even ask all offended. No, we did not create him, but we are raising him, for lack of better words. He is a hunter now, thanks to you. And a proper mech with some manners and political ability, thanks to me."

Chromia had to smirk about it a bit. She hated politics and yet she was so good at it.

:: You do. You have questions. I have answers. Or at least I hope I do. ::

She's out there in full view. Perfectly blue and sparkling like a gem in the light.

:: Now, please stop hovering like a skidish winglet and land. It's not proper for a Hunter like yourself. ::

For a moment she turns her back to him. A sign of trust. Or insanity. Before she decides to walk beneath the shade of the luscious garden overhang, Chromia glances at him over her shoulder.

Unless the femme is treating him like prey, which will have him retaliate and wreck her pretty home. He studies her closely, and now that he can literally taste her, he frowns. She's... blue. Very blue, which reminds him of somebot else. That one had been an Autobot, too. They hadn't been close, but he'd run into Arcee and her gang often enough, when he and -

The frag?

She laughed some before turning around to sit her fine blue aft on plush seats on the terrace. Legs crossed, demeanor relaxed. A delicate servo extends towards the adjacent seat.

"Sit. It won't bite. There's jet fuel on the table. Scan it if you wish."

Chromia allowed her code to sweetly dance with his, as it always happened. It offered promises of answers and comfort, if he wished for it.

"You know me. You feel it too. It scares you. I don't blame you. It scares me as well. But you're here with me so ask your questions. Oh, and your friend ", she motioned to his cannon "That's my friend too."

Chromia reached for a Cube of high grade herself. A small sip.

:: The large terrace. I'll meet you there. ::

Finally she stands and makes her way over to the massive balcony. Memories flood her processors. Good memories. Perhaps it will be the same for him. Perhaps not. She doesn't know. She's going in blind, trusting the coding that binds them.

But she will wait and be patient. When he gets there, only then will she actually decide what route to take.

He carefully moves closer to the terrace the femme is referring to, hating how he's a sitting duck like this, being within shooting range. At some point, there must have been trust. Why else would he have allowed his innermost coding to be shared with her otherwise?

Refusing to give his only security away, he remains airborne, and soon enough he's fully visible. His sensors are all over the area, drawing too much input, and he winces at their proximity.

Right, now how to put a damper on this...?

:: You do. You have questions. I have answers. Or at least I hope I do. ::

She's out there in full view. Perfectly blue and sparkling like a gem in the light.

:: Now, please stop hovering like a skidish winglet and land. It's not proper for a Hunter like yourself. ::

For a moment she turns her back to him. A sign of trust. Or insanity. Before she decides to walk beneath the shade of the luscious garden overhang, Chromia glances at him over her shoulder.

:: My home. I will send coordinates. Do try to behave, as I am fond of it. And so were you...::

She will plead with Haven to grant her passage back to Caminus quickly. Chromia was well aware that Devcon could travel in the blink of a solar across phenomenal distances. She had little time to waste.

An ambush, surely, if he's deemed an impostor by somebot who's got his fraggin' base coding attached to their programming.

Devcon the bountyhunter, however, does not back away from a fight.

He does not.

...but, he is terrified, lost and confused. He cannot access to memories, can only rely on instinct and base coding. Thankfully, his hunter programming runs deep, and it takes him through the necessary steps to arrive to Caminus.

He weaves his way through buildings, thrusters running hot. Only when he arrives to the femme's residence does he allow his cloaking device to fall, and allows himself a combined pulse of spark and sensors.

He's airborne, wings tucked away for now, and he feels exposed. Looking around, he wills himself to remain calm.

:: The large terrace. I'll meet you there. ::

Finally she stands and makes her way over to the massive balcony. Memories flood her processors. Good memories. Perhaps it will be the same for him. Perhaps not. She doesn't know. She's going in blind, trusting the coding that binds them.

But she will wait and be patient. When he gets there, only then will she actually decide what route to take.

Chromia can't help but flinch at that. There's something akin to fear or utter confusion that she is picking up on. Steeltrap was right. Not THEIR Hunter. But whose?

Code doesn't lie. Whoever or whatever he is, she can feel him just like she could feel Devcon. It's a deep, primal, existential level link. The kind of connection she had shared with her conjunx before Ironhide had met his untimely demise, only her and the Hunter were not conjunxes. That belonged to the stunning Dancer. Yet their code had been intertwined so much that time and space meant very little in terms of dampening their ability to feel each other.

So who was he? What was he?

Chromia sighed as she thanked Haven for her nourishment and hospitality as ever, then got up from the bar.

:: Caminus, then.::

She pauses before choosing to take a gamble.

:: Perhaps, I can help your memory, Hunter. ::

It pains her to call him that. He is a hunter, but to her, he is Home. The ghosts and demons of her past losses claw at her processors. The Gods are cruel fraggers. Are they ripping them apart again? Are they crushing their family once more?

There has to be a reason for it, right? As for why he's missing data - a poke at his subroutines answers the question - and, it carries his own fingerprints. Which can only mean it has been done by himself, for his own protection.

Someone tried to hack me...?

Frag it to the Pit and back, wasn't he fraggin' done with... With... Cyclonus, Cryotek, Rodimus. Ugh, he can't remember! He'll just have to run on instinct, then. Pulling himself together, he muses over the femme's words. She is awfully familiar with him, and he has got no idea why. As for her offering help - why the frag would she do that? Why does she even think that he would go near her?!

Because she's so very very blue.

Groaning, he decides to just... trust. Which makes his spark calme down? Fine, then. What the frag does he have to lose? It's not like he's about to do some stupid slag... Again.

::Perhaps,:: he says, not hiding his distrust.

And, after a beat -

:: My home. I will send coordinates. Do try to behave, as I am fond of it. And so were you...::

She will plead with Haven to grant her passage back to Caminus quickly. Chromia was well aware that Devcon could travel in the blink of a solar across phenomenal distances. She had little time to waste.

Wait.

Wait.

For the second time during this Solar, he find himself stumbling. Staring at the unfamiliar night-sky, he pushes a hand against his chassis, soothing his spark. Something's not right. He... He has given himself...? No, no no no, absolutely not!

Studying the femme's signal, he finds traces of his base-coding and something else, something dark and mean and dulcet. Something spark-deep, and he's despairing now, because this can't be. He's never...! He has never given himself over like that...!

Frag this.

:: And there's a chassis that requires it too, yet here I am all alone with a drink in servo, at your bar.::

Steel trap felt this too. Time to figure it out.

:: Why don't you come home? Haven misses you dearly. And so do we... ::

Devcon the bounty hunter doesn't have a home, he's got places where he hides and stashes his Golden Age booze. Devcon the Imperial Peace Marshal has a flat that he never visits, but it was demilished by the Preds ages ago.

As he takes a drip down memory lane, he rubs his chassis, wincing at the way his spark wails away in its cage. This is wrong, all of it is wrong. Hunters don't have a home, they simply have shores they visit, and -

His processor hurts.

::I can't,:: he says, grimacing. His mind is full of overlapping pictures, and it feels like there are two of him, but he... He... ::Haven will have to wait.:: A wicked smile, red optics, a sleek form. Claws. Dancer. There's something... he cannot access to. A hole in his memory. The femme, the mech, they aren't...

Chromia can't help but flinch at that. There's something akin to fear or utter confusion that she is picking up on. Steeltrap was right. Not THEIR Hunter. But whose?

Code doesn't lie. Whoever or whatever he is, she can feel him just like she could feel Devcon. It's a deep, primal, existential level link. The kind of connection she had shared with her conjunx before Ironhide had met his untimely demise, only her and the Hunter were not conjunxes. That belonged to the stunning Dancer. Yet their code had been intertwined so much that time and space meant very little in terms of dampening their ability to feel each other.

So who was he? What was he?

Chromia sighed as she thanked Haven for her nourishment and hospitality as ever, then got up from the bar.

:: Caminus, then.::

She pauses before choosing to take a gamble.

:: Perhaps, I can help your memory, Hunter. ::

It pains her to call him that. He is a hunter, but to her, he is Home. The ghosts and demons of her past losses claw at her processors. The Gods are cruel fraggers. Are they ripping them apart again? Are they crushing their family once more?

:: Well, well, look who flew back. Hello, Hunter. ::

The com link is rich with affection, the kind that seeps beyond the audials and sinks into one's code, a shared code from Eons of finding themselves close.

She's teasing as she calls him Hunter. It's so proper. But he had been hunting, perhaps, as he usually does when he leaves the comfort of Haven on long missions.

Haven, home. That is where she's at. Where he is, Chromia can't tell. And yet, as the link establishes she feels as if it is different. It's the same and yet, not. Her spark skips with concern. This is unusual.

Wait.

Wait.

For the second time during this Solar, he find himself stumbling. Staring at the unfamiliar night-sky, he pushes a hand against his chassis, soothing his spark. Something's not right. He... He has given himself...? No, no no no, absolutely not!

Studying the femme's signal, he finds traces of his base-coding and something else, something dark and mean and dulcet. Something spark-deep, and he's despairing now, because this can't be. He's never...! He has never given himself over like that...!

Frag this.

:: And there's a chassis that requires it too, yet here I am all alone with a drink in servo, at your bar.::

Steel trap felt this too. Time to figure it out.

:: Why don't you come home? Haven misses you dearly. And so do we... ::

She chuckles to herself, stretching comfortably in the massive tub that the Estate is furnished with.

:: All the teasing, and none of the action. Pft… come on now, mech. I didn’t hurt you that badly ast time::

Is she teasinng and testing? Absolutely. Does she care? Frag, no!

In space no bot can hear you moan, right?

Dodging an incoming attack, he does just that, battle protocols wondering why the frag he’s distracted. Well, he’s got a gorgeous femme on the line, speaking straight into his, ah, spike. 

::How about you slide a hand down those delicious inner thighs of yours for me, then?:: 

Ah, the peril of murdering a merc connected to the Black Market. He’s got a whole fleet after his aft, and he’d probably be in trouble if it wasn’t for his port drive. 

::I think I deserve to feel the ghost of your touch, femme.:: 

Teasing? 

Nah nah nah.

Even so, she humors him by opening these code paths to him. He can feel digits sliding down the inside of sleek thighs, teasing at the edge of seams that want to snap open.

:: You remember what I feel like wrapped around you...::

A small pause.

That little fragger. She purrs to herself. A long stretch in that warm oil bath. She’s pleased with herself, one pede sticking out, and that image is sent to him directly. 

Mmm…

::Oh, I’d do much better… A massage,:: he murmurs back, vocals dripping with lazy want. ::A slow, good stroke from top to toe, followed by a suckle and a bite. There are so many things one can do with a slick ped…::

He can do this.

Being hunted isn’t that bad, after all. He just has to avoid getting his wings shot at.

She chuckles to herself, stretching comfortably in the massive tub that the Estate is furnished with.

:: All the teasing, and none of the action. Pft... come on now, mech. I didn’t hurt you that badly ast time::

There is no question as to whom she would be eternally belonging to - as if there had been any doubt previously - but this was a new level of acceptance and possessiveness that she was happy to melt into.