Part Seventy Nine - Enlistment
The Cybertronian military complex is complicated.
After millennia of war, to bring together two opposing military organizations took a significant amount of time and even more patience.
Bringing together two armies to form one had its growing pains through multiple restructures and the bumpy starts of peace.
The structure took shape based off of other worlds, of their militaries, and of ancient records that were found from before the war.
From the figurehead of Prime, with only true authority over the Lord High Protector, all the way down to regular service mechs. It took hundreds of years of squabbles and compromises to ensure the safety of Cybertron.
There is a reason why Optimus Prime only had oversight over Lord High Protector Megatron, and Megatron over most of the military with few exceptions.
He had done everything right, surprisingly, but still felt like a child that was being reprimanded and it was starting to get under his skin. This life might be young, damnit, but he certainly wasn’t.
The next training class was starting in a few days and his name was down for it, his new name, but the sheer disappointment on the Prime’s face right now almost made him squirm. Damn his young body.
It had taken literal begging to get to this point, in command, just so they could discuss how he was moving forward with his life. It wasn’t dissimilar to the conversation he’d had to have with his father when he enlisted, except that had stake in it, he could happily never speak to the Prime again if it meant he could get back to work.
Technically, he was still incredibly young but his mind was still thirty-five, maybe thirty-six depending on how long he’d been gone. His mind had also been made up, long before Deadlock had mentioned going to the market to find stuff he might eat, while Hound had stared down the recruitment center.
Now he was sat in the Prime’s office like a petulant child.
He’d been a soldier on Earth, then a pilot on both damnit, and he could only really become one of those two things again. Maybe when the war was over, he’d be able to pick something else, he’d certainly have the time for it, but for now he needed to fight.
Of course, that’s how he ended up here. As soon as intake was over, they’d called his primary contact who he had no idea who it’d be or how to change it until the Prime had shown up.
Now they were in the prime’s office and he was listening to the man rant, “We are trying to give you a good life Hound, and that is supposed to start with a good foundation.” All things he had heard before and they still left a bad taste in his mouth.
“If I didn’t want your good intentions before, what makes you think I’d have changed my mind?” His tone was more flat than he’d thought it would be. Which was a good thing to be perfectly honest, “Hound, you don’t have to do this.” Sighing, he pushed up from his seat, leveling a look at the Prime.
He took a breath, “Sir, time and time again we have said that we want to do this. Time and time again, you’ve tried to ignore us. Have you ever stopped to think that it’s just part of us being human?” His breath caught and the sad smile on Optimus’s face was what twisted his gut.
It took everything in him to not throw up.
Taking a shaky breath, he continued, “It’s not just the pilot in me anymore, sir, that part is painfully obvious to me at least. This is about my life and what I want to do with it, and ending this fight is the most important thing to me. It always has been.” Letting out a slow breath, he rests his hands against the table.
Another second rolled by before he was able to manage his voice without it cutting into static, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe the need to do this as anything short of human nature. I know you don’t understand, you’ve made that clear over the years but I need to do this or I’ll lose my mind. I’d never be able to settle into that life you want, because I knew I could help.” His voice grew quiet.
“You don’t have to understand, you just have to accept it.” Shrugging a bit, he finally sat back down, “I don’t know what else to say.”
Optimus had stayed quiet that whole time, “It’s just being human then? That the obviously safer bet is what is the least desirable?" Shrugging a bit, Hound sighed, “That we can’t ignore the right choice over the easy one. Even if it meant certain death, it’s just who we are.”
He would always see himself as who he had been, as something not quite Cybertronian, but certainly no longer human.
Nodding slowly, Optimus sighed, “Well, to be a part of the Cybertronian United Military, you’ll need a fire-arm. Most military mechs are able to get one on load from a retiree but we’re not building new ones at the moment, you sometimes can get one in market but those usually need extensive repairs.”
His throat was tight but he shook his head, “No.” Clearing his throat a bit, he shrugged, “I have a pretty great gun, uh, somewhere.” His stomach turned again, thinking of his gun, the great thing that had yet to fail him. That had been one of the most thoughtful gifts he’d ever gotten from anyone.
Did he remember who gave it to him? No, but it was still important to him. It had saved his life more times than he’d have probably liked to admit while human.
It struck him then, that he had no idea where ninety percent of his gear was.
“Which I just realized I have no idea where the hell it is. Or where my suit is. At least some of my gear was at the apartment but none of that would work for me now.” He couldn’t help the near pout.
The way Optimus’s face went pale gave him a really bad idea of where it was.
It had been hard to say goodbye to Jazz and Prowl, if he was being completely honest with himself. More often than not, he felt like a pilot that wasn’t pulling his immense weight whenever everyone was off planet.
Even if his job was just as important and it kept him close to who he was closest to.
There was still that mental barrier that kept him from fully accepting it, that kept him wanting to not be stuck in Iacon. To be back out in the field like he had been before Hound died.
His heart still ached thinking about it, maybe if he’d been faster.
Shaking his head a bit, he tried to settle down, the trip back from here wasn’t terribly long but was far from a short car ride.
Space travel was not really his friend, honestly far from it, but he was thankful that the trip was going to be short. Though this mission hadn’t been much longer than the trip itself.
Technically, this current mission was not supposed to be his, it was supposed to belong to an emergency crew but they were already in the area after dropping supplies. They weren’t far from Cybertron though and there had been a unit that was coming in for R&R when they were leaving, so when this other shuttle had its issue they were able to detour on their route home.
It hadn’t taken long and they were back on the road within a few hours, but it didn’t change his nerves.
Shifting in his seat a bit, he couldn’t help but sink down some. He was tired, really tired, and if he was being honest with himself it was hard to impossible to sleep on a shuttle. Especially a sentient shuttle, every little noise had him on edge more than he would like to admit.
He tried to close his eyes again, but it was nearly impossible to get any rest right now. Not compared to one of the two ways he got sleep on Cybertron. It almost brought a smile to his face. Shifting a bit again, he opened his eyes and looked around instead.
Soundwave sat across from him now, or on the other side of the cargo storage which was stacked with the empty crates that had been in Jazz’s shuttle, but the mechs head was tipped back slightly. Petting the mech who looked terribly like a cat, Ravage.
That was a slightly odd dynamic, to most people those smaller mechs who hung around Soundwave were almost treated like his kids, but almost none of them were stationed together for the moment.
Maybe it was just another Cybertronian thing he didn’t understand, wouldn’t and probably couldn’t understand.
Trying to get some rest again, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.
“Breakdown, unable to rest?” Soundwave’s voice rang through his suit and he couldn’t help but sigh, turning on his microphone and flicking down the visor on his helmet, “No, not particularly. There is much on my mind.” Flicking a few switches, he turned off his assistance suit movement detection.
Humming, the sound of Soundwave’s voice almost reverberated through his skull, “Soundwave, also has much on mind. Lack of connection with Iacon, concerning.” Frowning a bit, he sat forward, folding his hands, “I have not tried to reach Iacon in several days, I could attempt to reach Knockout over a message, though it will take several hours to reach him.” With another hum, he looked over and saw Soundwave nod some.
Sighing deeply, he pulled forward a screen and brought up a keyboard.
His suit was old, not like the twins or even Arcee’s with their fancy touch screens ans such. Of course, he did have some of those from the upgrade before being blasted into space, but a lot of his systems were manual. Like needing to cycle the air and whatnot, it was all things he needed to do himself.
It had belonged to his older brother before him, when it was too quiet, he swore he could hear him. Not like the haunted suits on Earth, he’d heard and seen the results from those, this was just his brothers way of ensuring he would never actually be alone.
Especially so far from home.
The keys clicked as he worked on the message, trying to put a good amount of concern and care into it. So, he was no poet but hopefully he got his point across.
Knockout, I haven’t been able to reach you this far from Cybertron and for that I am sorry. I hope you are well and know that I miss you dearly. The words from home have been few and far between, I just wish to ensure that you are safe and fine.
He probably stared at the message for nearly five minutes before sending it, the weight on his chest changing ever so subtly.
Letting out a breath, he reconnected his comm to Soundwave’s, “I have sent the message, so it is, as the English speakers say, a wait and see game.” It almost brought a smile to his face, but his nerves were fried.
The chuckle Soundwave let out almost made him smile, that was one thing the pair had an easier time with, communication. Neither of them spoke with a typical cadence, either for Cybertronian or English.
“So, what was it that we had been discussing before this? Hmm? If I recall correctly, it was a story about the command deck of the Nemesis, yes?” Soundwave literally snorted and Ravage was quick to jump down from his lap, stalking to the front of the shuttle.
Maybe the space travel was not so bad after all.
He had no memories of this part of Iacon, maybe he’d never been there or it had been so late in his life that it had been wiped by, well, he was trying to come up with something that wasn’t so intimidating to call Primus, but he didn’t remember any of this place.
There were obvious signs of what it was though, the buildings that had near sheer meshes over their windows to nearly black, depending on the apartment he supposed but it was significantly more somber than the rest of the city.
It was making his throat grow tight with every step, edging closer to the dark building, so old it was made out of dense stone rather than metal like most of the rest of the city.
Optimus slowed at the entrance, staring at the doors, “I could retrieve your gun for you Hound, there is no reason for you to go in there.” He was hit so strongly in that moment of having experienced this very moment before.
Having made the same choice before, “No, I should see it. I need to find my gun, it's mine.” There was more than just his gun down there.
Sighing deeply, Optimus pushed over the heavy doors and the building sighed in kind.
Maybe not so much of a mausoleum, more of a tomb. Yeah, this was a massive and terrifying tomb.
The tomb was dark and silent, but he walked with Optimus still, trying to maintain as much of the silence in there as he could, moving down the steps carefully.
He could have taken the Prime up on his offer, to go get his gun, but he needed to have this part of the closure first. To find out what happened, even if he didn’t want to remember it, there was something in him that just needed to be known. Knowing that they’d had a ceremony on a remote and beautiful beach wasn’t quite enough.
Statutes and portraits lined the walls in the beginning, detailing Cybertron’s fine and long history. A history that probably stretched back longer than there had been an Earth, let alone people on her surface.
Then the deeper they got, the colder it got, and the walls got damp.
His distracted state almost caused him to slam into Optimus, bringing up his hands to prevent the worst of the harm, “Sorry, sir.” Optimus chucked weakly, “Hound, it almost pains me whenever you call me sir, more now than ever before.” He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes then, but he’d have done that whether in a younger body or not.
“I have always called you sir, sir. It’s more necessary now than ever before even.” Humming, Optimus stopped in an alcove that was lined with some sort of metal, the stone still making up most of the walls, “It will be in here.”
Hound stopped and stared in for a moment before stepping forward and nearly jumping out of his skin, “what the fuck.” The holographic image of his suit honestly startled him.
Clearly, it was an image someone had taken of him in the field, it took several long seconds for him to realize it was video. A memorial video of his life, “Well, this is awkward, and creepy.” Humming deeply, Optimus seemed to walk to chuckle, “It’s very Cybertronian.” Trying not to smile, Hound nodded a bit.
Stepping forward, the image dissolved before displaying on the back wall.
Before him was as empty of a casket as he could imagine for the moment, there was no way that other pilots would bury a pilot in a metal box.
Optimus, clearing his throat, moved over and started to undo several heavy latches.
The hiss that came from the coffin almost sent him running, the next thing that almost sent him running was a beeping he couldn’t quite place, but instead of moving back he started forward as Optimus stepped back.
Resting a tentative hand on the lid, he lifted it up with some effort.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ.” His voice broke, staring down at what had been his suit and was not just a pile of crap. Optimus rested a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off, stepping forward to lean into the coffin. Both wanting a better look and trying to find his damn gun.
It had to be in there somewhere, otherwise Optimus would have never allowed him to be here.
His hand brushed over the jagged edge and his breath caught, “My air tanks blew.” Although he couldn’t remember it, he knew what it looked like, and could remember being on recovery missions early on in his career. Most of other Hunter class pilots, before a majority went the way of the doudou.
Optimus’s voice was strained, “Yes.” He sighed shakily, “Meaning I died highly irradiated. This suit is irradiated,” And then it came up in his field of view, the beeping above him making sense, a way to check for any kind of a leak and he sighed before pulling his gun out then frowned, “but this isn’t.” Lifting the gun, the only parts on it that were releasing out dangerous levels of radiation were the metal bolts holding it together.
“The material is more resistant to these levels of radiation, but we’ll get the worst of it replaced.” Checking the scope against the wall, he brought the gun online and checked over a few more things.
It was different, absurdly so, no longer looking through a pane of glass to the world outside. Just his eyes and his scope, sighing he lowered the gun and nearly dropped it, “Shit.” He fumbled with it before it stuck to his plating.
That made him pause and then start chuckling, “I, I didn’t know I could do that.” Moving his arm quickly, the gun didn’t move, “Damn, better mags than my suit had.” Turning to Optimus, he went to show it off like a child but froze at how the man was staring, “What?”
Letting out a breath, Optimus gestured, “May I?” Nodding a bit, Hound stepped away from his own coffin and Optimus closed it carefully, securing the latches with another terrifying hiss, hands lingering on it for a moment longer than they probably should have, “Magnets are rare for most Cybertronian’s, at least from creation. Many chose them as an upgrade later in life, but primarily in their hands or feet. Not their arms.” Nodding carefully, Hound sighed and did the next really dumb thing of the day.
He swung his gun around to magnetize to his back, where it stuck and he tossed his arms up, “Well, damn.” Snorting a bit, Optimus covered his mouth, “To be fair, not everyone is destined for fantastic outliers like Soundwave or Skywarp.” Trying not to grit his teeth, he nodded, “Yeah, but magnets?”
Clearly, Optimus was still trying not to laugh, “Most are born without one at all, any is seen as a gift from Primus.” That only made him scoff though, “Yeah, well, big, warm and terrifying sent me back here after being in the literal land of peace. So, he could have given me more than magnets.” Shaking his head a bit, he looked back at the coffin for another second before moving away.
”Let’s go, I don’t want to be here anymore.” He could almost picture it, even with his suit at a near shine, what he had looked like after. Primus said he would keep those memories from him, of the end of his life, but it didn’t change the fact he would know what happened.
Being able to picture it with a clarity that only someone who had been hunter class could hold.
All he wanted to do was go home, so once they reached the surface, that’s what he did. Giving a weak salute to Optimus and handing over his gun for radiation eradication or whatever, he started his way back through the city towards the towering apartment building, growing more tired with every step.
Maybe he should have called Deadlock, told him that training wouldn’t start for a handful of days. Meet somewhere in the city, maybe…
He slowed outside of what he would describe as a coffee shop, staring at the windows. Hadn’t Sides or Sunny told him of a place like this, some place with constellations that looked like Earth on the ceiling.
Smiling a bit and shaking his head, he kept walking, some other time when he’d managed to swallow regular energon. Drinking the stuff hot sounded less like just death and more painful death than he’d rather admit.
It took a while for him to get home, probably more than an hour, but seeing and experiencing the sights and sounds of Iacon was comforting in a way that he had a hard time describing.
Though he should have expected this to happen next, pain and comfort were this circle he was stuck in. Spinning around and around. Yet, he hadn’t expected it, hadn’t been thinking about it and honestly had forgotten the man was even on planet.
At this point, all he wanted was a full night's sleep, in his own bed before the chaos of the next couple of days started up.
When he put his palm against the scanner, Deadlock had added it to the door lock the night before, he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He was absolutely exhausted now after walking almost the length of the city.
The laser site between his eyes was an unwelcome greeting, as was the hum of a rifle. On Earth, normal bullets were reserved for those in the military, like himself or Breakdown had been, there weren’t any other pilots beside them that have had a gun and none of them had one that was person sized. Except one.
His hands came up cautiously, trying not to cross his eyes to stare at the laser between his eyes and instead focused on the man holding the rifle.
Perceptor was far to calm for a man staring down someone ten times his size, though the gun was plenty intimidating. Knowing Perceptor, that thing was calibrated for killing Quintessons and their Cybertronian allies, regardless of the outcome.
“God, I just wanted to get some sleep.” His voice didn’t waver though, hands still up, “Designation.” He blinked, staring at Percy, he’d never been on the receiving end of their translators and they sounded terribly weird. Then again, Arcturus three? He was pretty sure it was three, who the hell had been on two, hadn’t been there as long as they had. Their translators were different and something or other.
Shaking his head a bit, he took a breath, “God, did I sound like that?” He ducked quickly when the gunshot rang through the air, hands on his head, “What the fuck!” His voice switched from basic to English so fast, hitting the door panel he rolled into the room.
A door to his front, Percy’s back, flew open and Deadlock came running out, gun also aimed at him. Suddenly, Hound felt very underprepared to enter his damn apartment, “I’m unarmed, I swear to god, if you shoot at me I will kick you out that goddamn window!” Deadlock blinked, clearly confused by the English and looked to Percy quickly.
”It’s Hound! He’s trustworthy, don’t shoot!” Throwing his arms up in the air, Hound managed to wedge himself under the table Percy was on, “He’s already tried that, look at the fucking door!” Curling up under the table, he tried to catch his breath, “Why does he know English?” Yeah, that translator sounded terribly weird.
This was the last person he wanted to run into, to be completely honest, only followed in a close second by probably Jazz.
“I know English because it’s my first language, you scientific torturing dick.” Maybe he needed to relearn what inside thoughts were, but for right now he was cowering under a coffee table.
When the little helmeted head appeared from the edge of the coffee table, it took everything in him to not strike out or shrink back, “Hound?” Nodding carefully, he took a breath, “Can I come out, or are you going to try to shoot me again?” He just about screamed when Ratchet came up behind him and brushed a hand along his side, “Alright! Alright, I’ve had enough today now, thank you!”
He was overwhelmed, to put it mildly.
Ratchet moved forward, hand still resting against his plating and sending it buzzing, “Alright, you go into bed Hound, I’ll try to explain everything to Percy here.” Nodding carefully, he sort of had to scoot backwards to get out from under the table, rapping his head on the edge and swearing.
”I’m too old to be hiding under tables, fuck me.” The door to the bedroom opened silently and he fell onto his bed, groaning at the lack of softness to it. Pulling his pillow over his head, he couldn’t help but wish in some ways the day had been a dream.
Somehow, the intro piece is the last piece I am always stuck working on in the end. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I have written almost 80 parts with fun facts and I feel like I’m running out of things here. There is more information for that intro section though and please thank @leethepiper for it, if it weren’t for them I definitely would be struggling with this information.
Anyways, hopefully I’ll have the next time out at a better time and not in the middle of the night.
@pixillandjester @goddessofwind8water @pixel-transformers @cleverthingrascalduck-blog @twilightfreefaller @aquaioart @artdagz @leethepiper @cosmique-oddity @spring-mc @coconut12172 @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @starwold @bird599 @sadmossball @0000julia @elegantmantaray @moldyfoxboi @ratatatata248 @fooolisher @lyceenjps @minniethemoocherda @prophaneprophet @eldritchmeal @wonderdogcreator @ruby-myth-dreamer @searchingforthelamps
Welcome to my updated Masterlist! If your name is not on here and you would like to be added, let me know!
As always, thank you @/Keferon for the initial AU
