Writing Feeling

Sunstreaker will be in the new Transformers Series created by BlokeesUS

Will be voiced by Wes Johnson (Confirmed by Producer, Casting Director, Actor, and Co-Writer: Jon Bailey)

Part Eighty One - Organics

Part Eighty

———

Oxygen is prevalent on Earth, element eight, colorless, odorless, and tasteless non-metal element. 

When housed in a tank, oxygen is kept under high pressure at a high concentration. The typical twenty-one percent is increased to a one-hundred percent.

On Earth, the supply of oxygen is constant though unlikely limitless. Photosynthesis takes care of the process of turning the carbon dioxide breathed out back into oxygen to breathe in, when under pressure in a tank, that can’t occur without assistance. 

In some place like the international space station, oxygen tanks are used, but they are used in pairs with oxygen generators. Where oxygen is made through electrolysis with water. 

Similar systems were installed as part of the oxygen system of the Arcturus missions suits. 

—

Inside the suit there were no visible gaps to the outside like they used to be, before leaving Earth.

When all the suits went in for their space based refits, as many of the gaps were filled as was humanly possible, so when the systems were off it was pitch black inside the cockpit. 

So no light or sound came through without turning on the systems, though they could run through a low power mode most nights.

Almost none of the pilots dared turn their system off while they were inside, there was too much risk, especially out here. The quiet was not something that was easy to get used to.

There was no bird song.

Sometimes, she’d play a recording she had of it, just to hear something other than the typical whirs of her suit in low power mode. 

There were other recordings that she had too, ones of the ocean or the city, all things she’d picked to ensure her sanity. Of course, she had her music too, unlike Side’s with his 90’s grunge, she had her mothers disco. 

That was an acquired taste though, one she was still working through a bit. 

With the bird song playing, she had a smaller speaker playing just a bit of ABBA to level her nerves. 

Early mornings like this were kind of becoming her favorite point in the day, when it was quiet and the Cybertronian’s didn’t know if they were awake yet or not. 

She and Side’s could get about an hour of just talking or relaxing before they were shaken up, when they would want to talk. 

Right now she was content with her recordings. 

It was the time like this when even some of the Cybertronian’s were getting a bit of sleep that she was coming to relish in. 

It was how she used to feel in the evenings on Earth, but now if she was awake that early in the evening anymore, it meant she’d been on first watch. Which she hated more than almost anything.

But for now, the morning was just hers. 

Mostly because Side’s had not spoken to her in the morning for almost two weeks now. Which was starting to concern her, though there had been a few times where he or she had been on part of the night watch, but plenty of days in between where neither of them had. 

Arcee knew that is wasn’t entirely her wanting some quiet mornings, because Sideswipe was starting to act weird almost whenever they were together now, and not in an awkward crush kinda way.

More in a, he knows something she doesn't know, kind of way. 

He’d been keeping to himself when it would be their usual time and when the others got involved he got defensive or worse. His anxiety was poking through more than anything else though. 

It was just another reason the pair had never worked that well together on Earth.

Anxious strikers did not work with rescue class, it just was not healthy for either party. 

Sitting, eating, and listening was her new routine. Even if she may miss the morning conversation, for the moment, she was content. 

The food however was still a bit of a struggle, she still had a few MRE’s tucked under her piloting chair for when she couldn’t stand to stomach something in such a violent color but for right now when it was mostly dark it was easier to handle the hot mush that reminded her of rice porridge. 

Not so much the ones from her childhood, the rich flavors of her mothers cooking long gone with the war but the ones that Mrs. Andrews had made it for her when she was unable to eat anything else. 

Purple was at least not entirely unfamiliar for rice or at least something that tasted similar to rice, but she was still glad for the relative darkness. 

Sipping from a water pouch, she sighs slowly before tucking her cube back under her bed. Cleaning it would come later when she had the patience for it, for now it was time to get back into the assistance suit.

She hated her assistance suit.

Percy had offered to help with it’s redesign, but that would take her out of the field for far to long. No, she would just grit her teeth and bear it for a couple more years. Like most female pilots.

That was a glass ceiling she hadn’t meant to shatter, but one she’d do again and again to feel like this.

This alive. 

Connecting the last of her suit, Arcee started to bring the last bits online, turning down the audio inside before checking her microphone. 

Blinking against the morning light as her monitors came on and letting out a breath, Cee stretched before adjusting in the piloting seat. 

“Morning.” Elita’s voice was tired, having had the last watch for the night, having taken a night watch every single night they’d been on this planet, “Good morning.” And her voice was rough.

Even after being awake for at least an hour, some things just wouldn’t change.

The sad smile on Elita’s face caught her attention though, “Are you alright Commander?” Sighing deeply, the pink mecha shrugged a bit, “I merely have a lot on my mind Arcee, I grow more concerned for you and Sideswipe, especially when we're on planets like this one.” 

Planets like this one, or rather, one where organic life can’t thrive. 

They could survive for a little while, sure, but only a couple of days at most without their suits. 

If that wasn’t a daunting thought, she didn’t know what was. 

Nodding carefully, Cee shifted forward and folded her hands, sighing, “You’ve gotta have some faith in us, commander, ma’am.” It was like every time she turned around, she was having to cover for her mistakes, or the mistake of being born organic. 

The thought almost brought a smile to her face, imagining being born like them. Biting back a smile, her grin was short-lived by the look on Elita’s face.

Shifting again, Arcee fidgeted with her hands a bit, “This has to do with Sideswipe being cagey, doesn’t it?” With a nod, Elita kept staring towards the horizon. 

It took her a moment to collect herself before nodding again, “So, what’s going on?” There were a million thoughts that were running through her head or a million seniors, none of which were good. 

Alright, so strikers weren’t the only ones with anxiety, sue her. 

Shrugging a bit, Elita leaned forward and sighed, “A few people in our unit are going to be transferred, a few people from a few units are going to be to make up a new team. I told him who we likely would be losing.” Her nerves instantly leveled out.

They were the only team with two pilots on it, at least now, and she’d only been there because of obvious reasons.

”Oh, so me and who else?” The way that seemed to startle Elita made her smile a bit, shrugging, “All the pilots are spread through the units, you’ve even got Sunny and Sides split up, the fact I am here was for training purposes. The only reason I’m in the field regularly is because I have military experience, right?” Elita nodded.

Taking a breath, Arcee shrugged again, “So, me and?” Sighing quietly, Elita shook her head, “Moonracer, but she is going to Megatron’s unit. They need a sniper after losing two.” That brought her pause though.

No one would place her with Megatron, not after their last conversation. 

Tilting her head slightly, she went to speak before Elita continued on.

“Optimus, the Prime I should say, is trying to put together a rescue team. We had them before the war, groups of mechs who worked both on Cybertron and the colony worlds, sometimes in general space to rescue and protect people. There were a handful of units during the war but almost all of them disbanded in the aftermath, just desperate to feel normal again. To get back to what they had been initially designed to do, even if they had the option of being something else now.” 

There was something there that Arcee didn’t understand, or well, she’d heard some of the stories from Deadlock but you had to take some of those with a grain of salt. 

Her throat tried to tighten, “And you think I would be good at that?” The distance in Elita’s gaze finally faded, “I think you would be amazing, I have not seen reactor training scores so high ever. I know it was your old class, as you say, on Earth but I swear to you it’s more than holding up collapsing buildings.” 

The sincerity in her voice almost got under Cee’s skin, almost, “I fought for so long to get out of the rescue field Elita, commander, ma’am.” Sighing deeply, she leaned on her elbows.

”I was underestimated and stuck there, my scores too high to be wasted. I was saving dignitaries and diplomats for years and not helping people who needed me.” Her voice broke, it was hard to think back on that time. 

Elita’s hand moved over and rested on her back, “You’ll still be in the field, still running missions like we do now, but with other units. Get there first to set up medical stations and prep the line for combat when we know it's coming, then be in the field for when things get bad. Someone like you could have saved someone like Hound.” 

Her heart clenched.

Just because Elita didn’t understand completely didn’t mean she didn’t care, didn’t have good intentions.

Taking a shaky breath, Arcee nodded a bit, “I appreciate the confidence, but no, no one could have saved Hound and that’s okay. He didn’t die alone, that’s what really mattered.” Nodding carefully, Elita sighed.

”That actually connects to the next person who we hope to invite to the rescue team, your medic, Ratchet.” Talk about a record scratch, shock would have put it mildly. 

Shaking her head quickly, Arcee almost laughed, “I’m sorry, Ratchet?” Nodding again, Elita sighed, “This time, both Prime and Protector believe it would be best if your medic was on that team, though Optimus for drastically different reasons than Megatron.” The look she was leveled with almost drew out an awkward laugh.

Organic secrets.

”He would like your medic to follow the units with pilots, in case the worst were to happen again.” Another far off look took over Elita’s face, “I wasn’t there, I didn’t see what happened to Hound but to know what I do now about you all.” Her voice wavered slightly. 

Pushing up her visor, Arcee wiped at her eyes for a second, clearly Hound’s death was on Elita’s mind today. Likely often when they were on plants like this. 

Clearing her throat, Elita shook her head a bit, “According to Prowl, he says that you all felt that it was luck that Ratchet was there when Hound died, even if he couldn’t do anything. Him being there was enough.” Nodding a bit, she let out a breath before lowering her visor again.

Dense clouds rolling in, she stared at them, “It is weirdly comforting, to know he was there at the end for Hound. To have someone trained to save our lives there, it's better than being alone, that’s for sure.” 

Shrugging a bit, she picked at her fingers, “With Ratchet and Mirage having been there, I know Hound went in the best way he could have. Someone he loved and someone trying to save him, it’s more than any pilot could ask for. Especially out here.”

The unspoken fact that with the secret, they would die not as themselves was hard, but not impossible to deal with.

Afterall, you lived and died as a pilot, usually in your suit, so it shouldn’t be any different. 

“So it will be Ratchet and I? On this rescue team?” Nodding a bit, Elita sighed, “Along with others, we are still trying to find some rescue bots who might desire to join. We are hoping to have one of our own medics on the team as well, though Nickel is not a candidate.” 

That made her laugh, it made them both laugh.

Which was how Chromia found them, both struggling to breathe while laughing, still away from everyone else, thankfully just out of earshot from the rest of the unit. 

—

The ringing in his ears was amazing, it making his head buzz and reminding him of the past. 

It was perfect, without flaws, and his. Entirely his. 

The hum of the rifle rang through his audials as each shot hit its mark near perfectly each time, though he was still adjusting to the difference between human perception and that of a cybertronian. 

Part of it was that he was no longer looking through a screen to stare down his scope, which was improving his aim on the weapon with each trigger pull, and he’d already been considered a marksman before that.

Now he was expected to be the best sniper in this class of soldiers. Not dissimilar to his time in the Army on Earth, top recruit in his boot camp had helped him become a pilot all the sooner.

Maybe it would get him back out into the field sooner here too. 

When the buzzer went off again, he laid into the targets, eyes flicking from one to the next in quick succession. 

He shifted back to his knees when each target was red and glowing from being super heated, letting out a breath he didn’t really need, smiling as the mech holding what effectively was a stop watch stared blankly. 

“Eight point two seven kliks. I believe that is a new range record, rookie.” Smiling a bit, Hound sighed again. The mech, Dion, had the barest hint of a smile on his face. 

He was in charge of training new mecha for the military, apparently he had been a big deal in the early war before facing an injury that landed him on a colony world for a couple of millenia. Had gotten back only in the last hundred or so years of the war, now was in charge of training.

Reminded Hound of someone, or maybe two people from Earth. He could picture their faces but couldn’t recall their names. 

It bothered him, a lot actually, because there was one thing he knew about his last life that he’d never forget. He had a pretty decent memory, especially for a pilot. Now though, the gaps set him on edge.

”Thank you, sir.” Turning on the safety, regardless of that fact it couldn’t harm anyone near them currently, he swung the gun around so it would stick to his back. 

Dion offered a hand, which he quickly took with a grin, “Thank you again.” Being clapped on the shoulder quickly, it sent a tingle through his skin, as if his old aching shoulder were bothering him.

Things like that kept happening, he was reminded of how he used to wear reading glasses, aches and pains from where he had calluses under the joints of his assistance suit would pinch then scars that no longer existed would ache.

Like his appendectenomy scars, those annoyed him. 

Stepping back away from the line, a flight frame took his place with a rather overly shiny rifle. Likely a family piece or something incredibly new.

His still had some scratched and scorch marks on it, things Optimus had offered to remove but he refused. It reminded him that he had been a part of this before, what he had been through before this. 

Leaning against the wall for a moment, he closed his eyes and sighed again, tilting his head back to breathe deep. The hot air was uncomfortable but not any worse than the deserts he’d been to in his life.

The subtle reflection of a scope lens brought him so much comfort, even from so far away. Waving lightly, he could feel the stupid smile on his face, the glass reflecting the sunlight again. He was just out of range to be really visible, even through his cameras, but knowing he had his back was enough. 

Blinking against the blinding sandy image, Hound rubbed his head a bit with a frown. 

What the hell had that been. 

Him.

Yeah, super helpful, thank you so much brain. 

His vision almost went blue again and he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes briefly before shaking his head. 

These were the things that were truely starting to drive him insane, snippets of memories that he simply couldn’t place. Had that been on Earth? New Kaon? Somewhere else entirely? And who was this mystery person that made him think of one specific shade of blue.

He’d even gone to a store and purchased a small tin of that specific shade of blue from his memory cores, just desperate to have something tangible, to make it feel real. 

The box of the horrible rust sticks, which he had given to Deadlock, was now that blue and all of his possessions from Earth were inside. Along with a few things he had gotten since coming back, including that little figurine which had been in the box. 

Optimus had told him it had been one of the thirteen, as it was part of a game that was used to re-tell their lives, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him the name. 

Just another one of those things that bothered him, his memory had turned into one of a goldfish overnight. Not terrible dissimilar to what happened to his old man. 

His throat tightened slightly, no, he was not going to think of that right now. He was not going to think of his parents, his father, he just wasn’t.

Shaking his head a bit, he looked back to the flight-frame who was still struggling with landing his shots on the targets. 

There were a few other young soldiers talking quietly together, almost laughing at the poor mech and his terrible aim. His face grew hot as his anger started to steam, pushing off the wall, he briefly checked his rifle at his back before moving over.

The taller of the two, who was still shorter than Hound, grinned and waved him over, “Hey Hound, we were talking about potential deployments.” There was a tone there, something with disgust and interest. 

Taking a breath, he tried to keep his tone casual, “How do you mean, Tripgage?” The blue mech, the wrong shade of blue, shrugged a bit, “Talking about the planets we might see, the other aliens we might meet. Seeing actual organics.” The tone was full of disgust and the child pretended to gag.

His eye twitched, “You sound like organics are something to ogle at or judge.” Snorting a bit, Tripgage and his friend, Rotostrike, both nodded, “Well, yeah. Could you imagine? Organics, things that can just squish under foot and get caught in your plating.” 

How could someone so young and inexperienced have this much room to judge.

”My creator,” that’s how, “he apparently has served on a couple of organic worlds and knows some mecha from a partially organic world, from everything I’ve heard it sounds revolting.” His eye twitched again but this time his fingers joined it. 

It was taking far too much in him to not throw out his fist to hit this kid in the mouth. 

Nodding a bit, Rotostrike joined in, “I heard that organics can be venomous, just kill our systems. Toxic and disgusting.” This kid sounded less like general dislike and distrust and near hate, “I hope to never see anything organic or meet one of the living ones, if you can call that living.” They both laughed and looked at Hound, as if thinking he’d join their laughter.

Anger was boiling under his skin, “I would suggest keeping those opinions to yourselves, unless you want the barrel of my rifle down your throat. Sentient beings, even organics, deserve basic respect and I think many have earned it.” 

Scoffing, Tripgage shook his head, “Quintessons are techno-organics, it can’t get much worse than that, what, you think they deserve our respect?” The only reason why his fist didn’t connect with the kid's face was because Dion grabbed his arm, “Hound, I could use your help, Mainland is still struggling with the targets.”

There was a strain to the older mech's voice, even as Tripgage’s eyes had gone bigger than any plate Hound had owned on Earth. 

“Yes, sir.” Taking a breath, he followed. 

Dion’s hold on him remained though and the older mech lowered his voice to speak quickly, “You cannot let their talk get to you Hound, I understand Earth is made up of organic life but for mecha like that it is just common talk.” Gritting his teeth, he sucked a sharp breath through them.

“They are insulting my home.” And who he was, who he had spent the first thirty-five years of his life as, even if he wouldn’t be that person again. Dion only knew that he’d come back, the man had seen it a couple of times in his life apparently, but he didn’t know that Hound had been… Harold Jackson. 

Sighing, Dion nodded, “I will handle it, but you nearly striking another soldier will get you worse than washed out of here, alright?” Nodding a bit firming, Hound looked down at Mainland. 

Another blue mech and this poor flight frame had no idea how to fire a gun, let alone aim one. 

Looking to Dion briefly, Hound carefully dropped to a knee and rested his hand on the femme’s shoulder, “Hey, let me help.” She looked up, just about ready to cry before nodded and wiping at her eyes, “Primus, I feel ridiculous.” He smiled and shrugged a bit, “Well, you learn more from failing than from succeeding first try. Come on.” 

He could hear Tripgage and Rotostrike returning to make fun of the femme flight frame he was trying to help. Sparing a glance at Dion as the man moved over to speak with them, finally.

Sighing carefully, he brought his own gun back from his back and turned off the safety, “Alright, first thing is the fact I think your scope is lined up wrong so we’re going to use my gun.” The sound of someone falling over behind him almost brought a smile to his face.

Almost. 

— 

It was the sheer volume of noise that had his heart racing and filled with desperation, the familiar sound and smell sending bile into his mouth. Tears into his eyes as he raced for or from something, endlessly. 

He woke with a start, the sound of a scream remunerating through his head, something pinning him down as his fist nearly collided with god only knew what or who in the dark as his sobs were choked, tears sliding down his face as he struggled to breathe.

God, he hated nightmares. Especially ones of the past.

His suit was dark and the piloting seat was part of what was keeping him pinned, but the other clearly was coming from outside the suit, still connected and mostly online. 

Implants throbbing as he tried to bring his monitors back online, their sleep mode incredibly sluggish. 

They were blinding when they came back on, even though it was clearly still late out, but there was a difference between no monitors and several now beaming in what little light there was from outside. 

Bluestreak was gone but he knew that, he’d gone to bed without his boyfriend as the sniper was watching over another unit while they worked for the night cycle. But he wasn’t alone like he’d made sure he would be.

Nightmares were common for him, which was why he’d settled under some brush away from the others last night. So to be pinned to the ground by someone for an unknown reason was stressing him out.

”What are you—“ A hand hit his visor, as if that would shut him up, but his cameras finally came back into focus.

Ironhide. 

His commander had them low to the ground and brush pulled around them, search lights flicking over the ground and through the sky. A massive ship above them searching, but it didn’t look like a Quintesson ship.

It wasn’t organic enough.

A ping brought his attention over to his comms and he ensured his cockpit camera was off before answering, “What, what’s going on?” His voice was still shaky and he was sweating, hands starting to shake again.

”We don’t know, the working team noticed the ship came into the atmosphere and took cover just in case, they were searching near them till a couple of minutes ago. I didn’t know where you’d hidden yourself till well.” Shrugging, Ironhide kept him down against the ground.

Because a bright red mech and a bright yellow one would certainly stand out under a search light. 

His hands were still shaking from the nightmare and his breath was coming in short bursts, with his vision slightly, “Thanks, for coming to find me.” Ironhide glanced at him before sighing and hauling him closer, tugging some of the brush more over them.

Ironhide’s grip one was ironclad and he was thankful for it, even under several layers of metal, the light squeeze to his assistance suit was welcome as he bit the edge of his fist. The shaking came full force now and tears started to slide down his face again. 

The older mech then started to speak, over comms, quietly, “Back during the war, probably after the first hundred stellar cycles or so, I was growing tired of the fight and being alone all the time.” Sucking in a breath, Sunny balled his hands, “Alone?” His voice was even shaky.

Humming, Ironhide continued, “I ran a lot of solo missions back then, it was still so early on and we were all trying to get our footings.” Sunny could almost picture it, a Cybertron that was still technically on the brink of war, when all their city states were trying to divide and figure out a side. 

“I was complaining about it to someone you haven’t met, uh, won’t meet and they asked if I had met anyone on Elita-One’s team. Of course, I hadn’t.” That honestly surprised him, “You didn’t know Elita before the war?” Pausing, Ironhide chuckled, “I didn’t know a lot of people before the war, but I had never met her. As Elita or Ariel.” 

His brows furrowed a bit, he had no idea who Ariel was other than the Disney princess. Maybe it was a miss translation.

“Regardless, I hadn’t met her or most of her team. Though only a few made it through the war, you’ve met who this story is about.” He smiled a bit, “So, the next time I was near Polyhex, uh, that’s a city that doesn’t exist anymore, I stopped in to see what this Elita and her elite unit were about and that is where I met Chromi.” 

The smile that stretched on his face was bright and shit-eatting, “Oh really?” Chuckling deeply, Ironhide shook his head slightly, “Yeah, yeah. When we met, she held a gun to my head thinking I was a decepticon. I fell for her at that very moment, it took her another fifty cycles to give me the time of day.” 

Snorting, Sunny covered his face, “Of course you did, god, you worship the ground she walks on, you know.” The smile on Ironhide’s face was soft, “She deserves it.” Smiling a bit, he tipped his head back against his piloting seat, “How is she doing?”

Ironhide hummed, “Good but she’s stressed, your brother and Arcee are causing some stress for the rest of the unit. Tension.” Humming, Sunny shook his head a bit, “A striker and rescue, even if she isn’t a rescue anymore, can’t work together.” There was something hanging in the air at that. 

”Why.” It was less of a question and more bitter, ah, the old caste system was rearing its ugly head in conflict with Earth standards, “Anxiety. Striker class are designed to fight the enemy and protect, then Rescue are to run into helpless danger and be a barrier. Sword and shield in a way, but uh, usually Rescue are either way to far in front of Striker to be notices or far enough behind it doesn’t matter.”

He shrugged, “With Sides and Cee, they were already friends and that makes it worse for him. So, yeah, there will be tension.” Though he wondered if there would be another type of tension after a while.

Lord knew that Sideswipe had a type and even if Arcee was one of his great friends, she fit that type pretty well. And well, there weren’t many options for someone like his brother. God, he hated the thought. 

Humming again, Ironhide shifted to look through some of the brush, “Oh hell.” And Sunny went to ask what was wrong when the spotlight blinded his cameras. 

———

A/N

Oh my god, the move from hell is finally over. I swear to god, not only will I not own as much stuff as my parents do, but I will happily leave half my crap with them if it means I don’t have to move it again.

Dear god why do they have so much stuff?

Anyways, during the move, I was also sick! So that was fun, I literally didn’t start to feel better until a few days ago, so… yeah. Hence the late chapter, but I really wanted to get this up this week.

I’m very happy with how the story is progressing though I promise to clarify some timeline stuff shortly.

If you have any questions, I will probably be online for a while tonight. I want to keep writing while I’m inspired.

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Part Eighty - Overwhelmed

Part Seventy Nine

———

It had been among one of the pilot's possessions, tucked away in the bottom of a foot locker. A small piece of red plating with an old school pilot stamp in it, something that was eerily familiar and sent the technician on edge. 

The frame that housed it was cracked and caked with smoke or dirt, clearly having been through an ordeal but important enough to hold onto. 

Pilot number 1124, mission commander Harold Jackson of the US army had an illegally obtained piece of experimental piloting technology. Circa 1985-88, Project Vanguard. 

If it got out that one of the very dead hero pilots had been in possession of an illegal object such at this, then the public would question other aspects that should not be questioned.

Setting it aside for the MECHA data pile, the technician kept organizing the items that would be returned to Commander Jackson’s next of kin. Father, located in Denver Colorado, military memory center.

There was a reason why testing twice was more than frowned upon, to outright discouraged.

Shaking his head, the technician kept working, hell. Testing once was basically guaranteed suicide, he saw it everyday. Pilots were a special kind of idiot he’d never be able to understand. 

Which was part of why he got this job, cleaning out foot lockers and rooms for the next batch of idiots to inhabit them. Grumbling, he tucked the last pieces of what remained in the foot locker into the box, ready to be mailed to the insane Captain Jackson. 

Sitting back on his heels, he sighed deeply. It wasn’t every day that MECHA, let alone NASA, claimed for their mistakes. Shaking his head a bit, he pushes off the ground.

There were only a few pieces that were going to remain, but he didn’t care much for that either. 

If it were up to him, the whole lot's stuff would have been blasted off into the endless abis of space with them. Good riddance. 

If only the senator saw it that way, he was the one calling all these shots and wasting the tax payer dollar. 

Picking up the framed piece, he tried not to grin at it, this might get the old man to shut up for a bit.

Three stars, almost in a row, more of a curve. Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. Not terribly far off from their perspective of Arcturus, at least during specific seasons.

Talk about a coincidence.

—

There was something about Cybertron that he loved and it felt impossible to describe, it was more than the people and certainly more then the science. It was the feeling of belonging he’d managed to find in his short time there so far.

So many of them were incredibly friendly and even the ones who weren’t didn’t outright insult him on purpose. 

To be perfectly honest with himself, he liked the Cybertronian's overall, or at least the few that he had met and gotten to know over the last few months. He genuinely liked them and their overall friendliness, to other mechanicals, but he was starting to draw a bit of a line in the sand.

Having ones insult organics was one of those twines, sure, but having random ones enter their apartment when they were trying to keep the world’s worst kept secret was certainly past his line. 

Which was why he’d been keeping his gun within reach, an old habit he’d picked up in America, but now one he was slightly more thankful for. He’d initially packed the weapon in his suit so that almost none of them would have to suffer through starvation, but now he was glad to have it for Ratchet’s sake if not for this very given situation.

The hole burned into part of the door was almost satisfying, it hadn’t gone through the metal cleanly unfortunately.

Though it would have been nearly impossible to hide his fear of being found out by friends, let alone strangers, without his suit like he mostly was right now. It was bad enough that some Cybertronian’s that he knew or even admired had found out, now it appeared that strangers were going to start finding out and there would be no stopping the spread of their secret.

It would lead to plenty of horrible moments. 

Their lies. 

Normally, he was naturally a very calm and collected person, but there are moments, like this very one now, where he swore he was channeling his mothers spirit. Which was not what he wanted to do, ever. 

“What the hell do you mean that that’s Hound!” It was less of a question and more of an accusation. 

His skin was crawling, the thought of being forever trapped in his suit was one of his biggest fears and anxieties. Something in his was trying to dredge up memories he couldn’t swallow. 

Ratchet carefully held up his hands before sighing deeply, “Take a breath Percy, look, I, it is an incredibly complicated situation.” There was something he was usually thankful to Ratchet for, speaking less plainly to make the point more clear, but right now was not the time.

Shaking his head, Percy pointed firmly toward the bedroom, “That is not Hound, we buried Hound. Every piece of who he was.” His voice almost broke. 

Taking a shaky breath, he continued before Ratchet could interject, “We buried Hound on some far off world after having him cremated, he’s dead. His suit is radioactive beyond a survivable amount and interred in lead at the Iacon catacombs! Whatever that thing is, it is not Hound, because if it was.” His voice died as his hands started to shake.

Why the hell were his hands shaking so badly? 

He didn’t even notice it until Ratchet had hold of his arms, trying to keep his gaze, “Percy, it’s him. It’s really him. He knows things that only Hound would know and the guy is scared.” 

And he could have honestly called to his knees to pray at that moment.

To pray for Hound’s souls, to not be trapped for eternity in some god forsaken machine, all because of one man's terrible design. 

“If… If it is Hound, then why is he only showing up now? You’ve need how this works.” Not many had, he knew that, but enough people had seen the one that it stuck with them. This wasn’t some clean slate or anything like that, if he was possessing the remains of his suit it would not be pretty. 

And he would have known if anyone was asked to help on that project, this miraculous resurrection. Wheeljack, Brainstorm, Skyfire, hell, even Starscream would have told him about this. 

They would have told him that they were trying to put Hound back together, they would have detected him in the busted systems and told him. He was the planets leading expert on MECHA technology and they would have told him they were trying to put the pieces of Hound back together again. 

A nursery rhyme played in his head and he had to bite back an oath. 

“His suit was destroyed and if anyone was working on it, I would have known! They would have told me that Ratch.” He almost jabbed the man in the chest but watched him nod and hold his hands up.

It stung more than he would have liked to admit that Ratchet pulled away. 

Sighing, Ratchet shifted, “Which is why that isn’t his suit, that’s still in the catacombs as far as I can tell.” 

Scoffing, Percy threw an arm up, shaking his head, “I’m not an idiot Ratch and I am not blind. I know what a MECHA suit looks like, I have spent years working on them.” Rolling his eyes a bit, Ratchet shifted back forward, “Except right now, you don’t. He doesn;t have a visor Perc.” 

The image of Hound from just minutes ago was blurry, clear mostly of the mech’s chest through the glass of his scope.

Shaking his head quickly again, he gestured loosely, “Of course he had a visor, if it’s Hound, then he’ll have a visor and worse than that he will be heavily radioactive because his air tanks blew his power core!” But none of their proximity alarms were going off. He'd even installed several into the apartment for safety measure and nothing was going off. 

Ratchet took hold of his shoulders this time and he could see how hard the man was working to not shake him, the barely contained irritation evident in the set of the older mans eyes. 

“He was remade, okay? He’s not some man in a suit anymore, that mech is who he is now.” Then it clicked and his heart sank, turning off his translator as fast as he could, “He’s one of them now, a Cybertronian?” His voice shook ever so lightly and Ratchet nodded carefully. 

Taking off his helmet, Ratchet rubbed his forehead, “He is, and don’t ask me how it happened. None of us can really tell other than maybe Joan and he isn’t saying what happened.” 

Trying to crack even a bit of a smile, Percy took a shaky breath. He missed the nicknames, but it didn’t feel like the time. 

Rubbing his fingers together a bit, the scar tissue almost grounding him, “So, the Prime was the only one who knew till, when? This whole time?” With a quick shake of his head, Ratchet huffed, “No, Percy, look.” Sighing again deeply, Ratchet sort of just shrugged, “Hound has only been back for a few days apparently.” That almost stung more. 

A few days, after months of nothing, the man's birthday had come and past probably within the last few weeks and now he was just back. 

“We,” Ratchet gestured between himself and Deadlock behind him, who clearly was trying to understand their conversation, “don’t know exactly how it has happened, but it has. He hasn’t exactly wanted to talk about it and clearly can’t remember everything.”

His blood ran cold then.

”This is exactly what Shockwave wanted, do you realize that?” His tone was harsh but his hand hit his mouth so fast, the sound of the smack almost louder than his words had been. 

Words he should not have said.

Words he should not have known about, words that guaranteed his one way trip all those years ago. 

The look on Ratchet’s face though was eerily familiar, “What do you mean by that Percy?” His blood went from cold to pure ice, as he tried to stutter through something, anything, that would make some semblance of sense without being the god-honest truth.

His hands went back to shaking, “I mean, the pilot program, the world's pilot program, not just MECHA’s. It has not been just a pilot program for the last twenty some odd years, but an international experiment by one man to make an outcome like this.” Ratchet blinked slowly, his head tiling back before groaning.

Percy winced, “If we weren't thirty lightyears away from him, I’d kill him. Damn him, damn his pride.” Nodding a bit anxiously, Percy sighed slowly, “I think that was kind of the point Ratchet, we all knew things we shouldn’t have and this was our price.” Which, in the grand scheme of things, their price was supposed to be death, but instead they were here. 

Thank you kiaju who were usually trying to kill them.

Facing the potential consequences of their actions very few knew they were taking, but still, thanks for not killing them instantly, he supposed. 

Percy only knew about this whole mess because, at one point, Shockwave had thought of him as his successor, then things had… changed. 

Now, thirty light years from Earth, without a way of warning anyone else, nothing had changed. Like he had hoped to before Arcturus, before this continuing mess. 

Before Jazz disappeared and he got terrified. 

Long before Shockwave had made him sign his own death certificate like any pilot is supposed to do and had been told, point blank, that the mad scientist would ensure it, 

Especially if anything like this had reached anyone else’s ears, like it just had. 

Take that Shockwave, little wins, like being sent far out of reach towards certain death.  

“Goddamnit, you’re just going to let him sleep and make sure I can’t talk to him right now, aren’t you?” Nodding with a bit of a smile, Ratchet pulled his helmet back on, “Yeah.” 

—

He missed his family and the flowers he’d grown in his mothers flower box, he missed the sunshine in the mornings and the taste of coffee. The warmth of a beautiful day and the bitter cold of dead winter.

Those were things he’d missed for years though, even before leaving Earth, when he’d arrived in America.

Now the longing was less homesickness and more nostalgia. 

There were some things he came to like though, honestly more than he had in America. 

Everything on Cybertron was very specific, in the way it was placed and how it had been rebuilt from the ground up. Having grown up in a decades old war torn country, it was nice to see how much care they were putting into their cities all these years later. 

The roads were made for those who hadn’t transformed in years, the sky lanes had light buoys for those who were no longer used to flying at night, and anyone could adjust the general atmosphere to their hab. 

The atmosphere on Cybertron wasn’t terribly dense, its magnetic field not dissimilar to the one Earth has but the overall size of the planet was the staggering difference. But the majority of inhabitants did not need the dense atmosphere, though many had come to prefer it.

As if it were something to have a preference for, but then again, not all Cybertronian’s needed to exactly breathe like humans did. 

That was why he appreciated the technology more, especially because it made it to where he did not need to wear his suit every second of everyday. 

Most of the buildings on the planet kept a tighter seal nowadays, too many years off planet for hundreds if not thousands of Cybertronians had made it necessary. 

Right now, all he wanted to do was vent his suit for a minute, but the shuttle was not filled with oxygen. 

Again, preferences that he had nothing but respect for. Later today, he would, but for now he had to wait. Rather impatiently, if he was being honest with himself, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes again, he tried to level his breathing.

Warm skies and fresh air filled his waking dreams. 

Bumpy landings were normal, so even with his arms crossed and head tilted back, it was significantly more surprising that everyone around him was shuffling out the door before he noticed they were even on the ground. 

Thank god for the little miracles in sentient shuttles. 

Breakdown was exhausted though, not really having slept for more than an last hour in the last couple of days. Everything from the supply run to the near dead ship, it had been a lot compared to his typical day to day as of late. 

Normally, he would have gone straight back to the apartment for the quiet and some rest, to vent his suit and get out for a bit, maybe even shower. But with his arms stretched over his head, there was something else on his mind that seemed just as nice, just as peaceful.

Maybe not as refreshing, but still wonderful in its newness. 

Something he had stopped looking forward to years ago, but was now part of his typical routine.

Companionship.

So, rather than turning to the right, he kept walking straight, following the rest of the mech towards command. 

Humming to himself, even in the cool evening air, he was smiling. The temperature slowly lowering in his suit wouldn’t bother him until he reached command at least and that building was typically kept warm, just for the sheer number of flight frames that typically stayed there. 

The quiet groans and grumbles from those around him were familiar, typical even, but the posture of Soundwave was starting to have him concerned.

He worked with the mech enough to tell some of his typical quirks, the quiet was normal as his speech pattern was odd even around others of his caste, but it never bothered him. Mostly because he knew that his own speech pattern was abnormal to his English speaking comrades and even odder through the translator.

Alright, maybe not as odd as the newer translators, but still.

This was different though, there was a tension in Soundwave’s shoulders and the way Ravage was perched almost made the air on his arms stand on end. Like the cat was ready to pounce and maul something.

He’d always been a dog person.

But he kept quiet, walking with him still, taking that half a step closer for companionship that the quiet mech typically appreciated. That he appreciated when the headaches were especially bad. 

The small nod from Soundwave was the only way he knew he was doing the right thing and he returned it, the pair walking in a comfortable silence until the steps of command. 

“Soundwave, grateful to Breakdown. Must visit with Prime, suggests, rest. Concerns, growing.” Yeah, if that didn’t set his hair on end, he wasn’t sure what would, “What happened, Soundwave?” Even though he knew better than to ask, he couldn’t help it. 

The sigh the mech let out gave him chills, “Unknown, conversation with Prime necessary.” Nodding a bit, Soundwave turned off to a private entrance and Breakdown was left staring for a while.

God help him, whatever the hell was happening, he wanted no part of it.

Continuing up the steps, he got in line at the main security, tapping his foot while the line moved almost painfully slowly. But then again, they were being disarmed as they entered command or immobilization placed on the integrated kind. 

It was apparently an unpleasant experience, one he was glad to not feel. 

Arms going up with ease, he moved through the detector and handed one his weapon, then had the immobilizer placed on his cannon. Another scan and he was through the doors, into the warm halls of command.

Sighing slowly, he rolled his neck, maybe after seeing Knockout he’d go check on Percy. The scientist worked too much. 

Moving down into the medical wing, he counted the doors as he walked, the smell of antiseptic leaking through his system ever so slightly. More likely psychosomatic than anything else, hospitals always made his skin crawl. 

Reminds him of his brother too much.  

Somehow, the door was more daunting than he’d like to admit. He’d entered this very office a million times over before, but it was different now. It wasn’t just Knockout’s office, it was his… boyfriends? Significant others? Office. 

His knuckles hung over the door for a second before rapping against it. Half a second before, “Come in!” 

What he hadn’t expected was the total carnage inside. 

Knockout was a very meticulous person, very particular, and honestly just the way he preferred things himself, so the sheer number of data pads and other scattered belongings had him stopping and questioning whether he was in the right office.

”Uh, Knockout, is everything alright?” When the medic looked up, he knew nothing was alright.

The manic look on the mech's face was one filled with stress and exhaustion, “Breakdown! I was supposed to be alerted when you got back, I must have missed the ping.” Then his nose was buried back in the datapads at reach. 

Nodding slowly, he moved into the office and the door snicked shut behind him. Thankfully, the space was almost dark and rather quiet, how Knockout had been keeping it for his sake these last few weeks. It almost brought a smile to his face.

Starting to pick up the datapads, he was careful to not turn any of them on, “An interesting case, I take it?” Frowning at one, it was significantly old and had a cracked edge. Usually, Knockout preferred to download old data rather than use the original source, but clearly whatever had captured his mind made him bypass that typical quirk.

Nodding quickly, Knockout was quick to clear off a nearby chair, knocking what appeared to be plating to the ground, “Very, come take a look.” Nodding carefully, he kept stacking the datapads. 

Tucking them carefully into the corner and out of the way, he lifted a few empty cubes to tuck into the small sink along the wall, “How long have you been working in here, beautiful?” He was almost satisfied with the light hint of a blush that reached Knockout’s cheeks.

”How long have you been gone?” That was a terrible response. 

Sighing deeply, Breakdown continued with cleaning, tucking loose items into their typical places and stacking more datapads, being more careful with the clearly newer ones that would likely need to be brought over to Knockout’s apartment by him. 

He tried to not rub the spot between his eyes that was starting to ache at the thought.

”You will truly find this interesting Breakdown, we don’t quite understand it yet but I am trying to get ahead of the research.” Nodding a bit more, he finally moved over then

Sitting down meant he could turn off his motion controls, meaning he could have some food and water while listing to Knockout. That sounded nice.

Easing himself into the chair, he leaned forward while Knockout brought up the screens at his desk, having to brush aside a few meshes and other medical items he liked to keep on hand typical for a patient file. 

He blinked at it once, then again.  

“I apologize stunning, but what exactly am I looking at?” His voice was quiet and mouth was incredibly dry.

Knockout smiled a bit and rested a hand carefully on Breakdown’s shoulder, “The Prime wanted to leave the honor of you finding out to me, he’s getting some sleep at the moment but in the morning you’ll be able to catch up.” He stared at the familiar green plating, the shape of the suit but that was where the similarities to his suit died.

The face though, it was weirdly uncanny.

”I fear I may be sick, why does this mech look like my fallen commander?” The gentle squeeze to his shoulder was barely registered, “Because he was given a second chance, sweetspark.” Nodding a bit, he tried to breathe normally as his vision struggled to stay in focus.

He couldn’t tell if it was from tears or hyperventilation.  

—

He was starting to loathe waking up from his dreams, his past that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to reconnect with, but at the same time was desperate to leave. Desperate to forget even for a little while longer.

To avoid the heartaches and pains he’d faced in his first life, like they were the plague. 

When the morning came around, he thought about not getting out of bed, honestly, he really did. Not only had the day before been emotionally taxing, but his dreams before the midnight wake up hadn’t been helping with any of that. 

His mother and ex-wife were haunting him, along with a particular shade of blue he’d never realized had seemed significant until now. 

There were voices outside the room however, several of them and he groaned, pulling the mesh over his head for a moment before tossing it off and getting up.

It was only a few short strides, rather than a couple dozen yards of jogging to get out of the room and he froze in the doorway.

”I am going back to bed if you’re all going to be here.” He was tempted to turn away. There were too many people in their small apartment and he really didn’t want to deal with any of them.

Prime, Soundwave, Deadlock and Knockout to start with. Then of course Ratchet and Perceptor, but the last was almost unfamiliar. The blue was not the same shade that was haunting his waking and sleeping, but it still felt familiar. 

Blinking slowly, he tilted his head carefully and could imagine a man a few years older than him, smiling a bit too brightly for someone with such a horrible past, a pilot's past, “Breakdown?” The careful nod brought a smile to his face, moving over and the firm clasp of hands was familiar even in this state. 

“I cannot believe that it is you, look at you!” The shift of hands to his shoulders was fast and almost overwhelming, but he still smiled, “Me? Look at you and your stripes, Jesus, I forgot what those looked like.” 

The brief glance over his shoulder to the others made him know he already misstepped, the gentle shift to Ratchet’s stance was becoming familiar.

It was something he should have remembered but couldn’t, goddamnit. Primus damn him.

Clearing his throat a bit, he looked around the room, “So, is there a reason for such a warm reception with just waking up?” His eyes slid over Soundwave only briefly, there was something in him that said he knew more than the man's name but he couldn’t place it.

Even with the gentle shakes of a few heads, Hound knew there was more there, but he’d let it go, for now. 

Being terrible young in body made that sort of thing easier to shrug off, even when all he wanted to get was his footing back again. 

Clearing his throat a bit, Breakdown re-tuned his translator to English, “How are you feeling Hound, okay?” Glancing at the others briefly, he kept his voice the same, that early morning English he’d been hard pressed to change. 

Shrugging weakly, he sighed, “I don’t know, it’s been impossible to describe so far.” He could hear Percy’s quiet muttering to Deadlock and Ratchet, but that was background to seeing Breakdown again.

One of his good friends. 

One of his crew.

He could hit himself in the face, quickly taking hold of Breakdown’s arms, “Forget how I am, how are the others? How is Jazz?” 

The relief that flooded him when the man smiled should not have been as powerful as it was, but he couldn’t help it, “As I last heard, they are doing well. Missing you, but well.” Nodding a bit, he glanced towards the Prime briefly before looking back to his friend.

”Well, they won’t be missing me much longer, I just got to get the hang of this stuff, then I’ll be back out there. No one will have to pull my weight anymore.” The shift in visor tone made him smile.

Alright, so maybe there being so many people in the apartment wasn’t so bad, for once. 

———

A/N

Alright, this chapter is up much later than I had wanted it to, but the Percy section took so long. Breakdown and Hound’s parts came together in the last thirty minutes or so and I’m actually rather happy with them.

I promise, more will come with the whole mystery plating thing, just in later chapters.

This chapter was actually a lot of fun for me once I was able to use it as a stress relief. I fucking hate moving and I hate being sick, having both at the same time is just torture.

I have some sort of viral infection that is just holding on for dear life, then my entire life got upended I don’t even know how many days ago now while moving across town. So… yeah. Chapter updates may be sporadic for a couple of weeks, but I for one am excited for where the story is going. Muahaha.

Also, I will not lie, part of the delay is because my brain was temporarily in other fandom space. Will I specify? No. But I was distracted, lmao.

I hope ya’ll enjoy!

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Welcome to my updated Masterlist! If your name is not on here and you would like to be added, let me know!

Part Seventy Nine - Enlistment

Part Seventy Eight

———

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. 

———

A/N

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.

TAGS

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Welcome to my updated Masterlist! If your name is not on here and you would like to be added, let me know!

Part Seventy Nine - Enlistment

Part Seventy Eight

———

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. 

———

A/N

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.

TAGS

@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!

Part Seventy Nine - Enlistment

Part Seventy Eight

———

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. 

———

A/N

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.

TAGS

@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!

Part Seventy Eight - Understanding Goals

Part Seventy Seven

———

After the ASVAB, the armed services vocational aptitude battery, the entrance exam for the United States militaries, the recruit goes onto basic training for their given branch. 

In the Army, the recruit goes to BCT or basic combat training whether in the traditional army, reserves, or national guard. Basic combat training is one part of initial entry training (IET) of Army training, the other being advanced individual training or AIT. 

When a recruit is able to do both sections of IET at one location, it is referred to as One Station Unit Training, where they will spend 22 weeks in the total duration of their program. 

Infantry go to Fort Benning in Georgia, re-named after Corporal Fred G. Benning for his heroics in World War 1. Other occupations in the military are split among Fort Jackson in South Carolina, Fort Sill in Oklahoma, and Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri. 

Typically, AIT is the remainder of basic training which is defined by a trainees MOS or military occupational specialty which can last between four to seven months. Or more for foreign language training when necessary. 

It is at the end of all of this, that the trainee earns the title of soldier. 

Military training processes are similar across the board for the world, though mandatory and voluntary shift the timelines, as well as the expectations. 

—

Even if he couldn’t remember everything from when he was human, there were a few things he could remember. Like the difference between his dreams and his hallucinations from both the overuse and his crash. 

For one, he had never dreamed in color, it was always black and white, which was why his hallucinations had been so damn hard to realize, because they felt so real. Everything looked and felt really in those horrific seconds. His hallucinations had been awful, but he’d never liked calling them that, the moments when memories would overtake the reality of his day but that’s what Ratchet called them. 

Or had. That was one thing he’d yet to experience again, and with the fact it was connected to something he no longer was, maybe wouldn’t again but this was coming into a close second.

His dreams were weird, to put it mildly, at first it was because they were in color and certainly filled with colors only his cybertronian eyes would have been able to see. Then it was because in these dreams, he was human again. 

It had only been a couple of days that he had been Cybertronian, maybe five or six at this point, he wasn’t sure; but to dream of being human felt weird and almost wrong now. One thing was similar though, it felt like it was actually happening.  

Looking down at his hands and rubbing his fingers together, he could feel it, more strongly than when in the throws of overuse, sighing a bit he turned and froze. 

It was the beach, with his mother, her hand up in the air and waving, a smile shining for the first time in months, “What do you have there honey?” Grinning, he lifted the faded red piece of metal where the tones from the mixed paint caught his eyes, “It’s a piece of an old mech suit! Can I keep it?” Her laughter carried down the beach, “I think we have to!”

Running down the beach, he carried the piece of metal with him, the embossed star map burned into his mind through the feel or it rather than the sight of it. Mostly because the piece of metal had sat in a shadow box longer than he’d held it for by a lifetime. 

Shooting upright, he struggled to breathe. 

The apartment was dark and almost silent, aside from his struggling breaths and Ratchet’s snoring, but the feeling was weird as he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. Yet, he could tell where Deadlocka and Ratchet were without having to open them. 

Clutching his blanket, it took a lot for him to actually open his eyes and blink against the light they made. He took a few more shaky breaths and looked around the incredibly dark room. 

He was on one of the slabs in the bedroom, the human quarters to his left where they lined the window and another slab to his right where Deadlock was in fact dead to the world. This bed usually belongs to Prowl and it will be a hell of a time fitting a third one into the room. Maybe he’d make a space in the living room or something.

With a deep and tired sigh, he rolled over and hauled his blanket back over his shoulders. He still slept like a human, that was for sure. 

Laying there for another few seconds, he drew the mesh over his head and closed his eyes. Trying to get himself back to sleep for at least a few more hours, if all went according to plan, he’d have a busy day in the morning. 

It was the sunshine that woke him up, humming deeply and stopping himself from groaning when he stretched, plating shifting against his protoform, it felt like waking up in his assistance suit. His dreams had been of basic training, which was very fitting. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes then. 

With the blind pulled up from the window, he could see out onto Iacon from his bed. Sure, he’d been able to do so from his cot too but this felt different. Everything felt different. 

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, or slab, he glanced around the room. No one was there. Pushing off the slab, he almost kept his blanket around himself but he threw it back across the slab before heading out the door.

The lights in the living room were almost painfully bright and he groaned a bit, covering his incredibly pale eyes from it, “Damn.” It reminded him of a doctor's office, “Good morning, I guess.” Ratchet chuckled from the coffee table as he moved towards the kitchen, desperate for some water. 

“Try to have some energon this morning, would you?” Deadlock sounded like his mother and he tried not to scowl as he got himself a cube of water, “I’ll get to it at some point, Knockout left me with those patches so it’s not like I’ll starve.” Moving back into the living room, he sat down on the uncomfortable sofa. 

Sipping his water, he sighed, “So, Deadlock, do you know anything about the Cybertronian military?” The sound of a cracking cube almost brought a smile to his face as he sipped his water, “Why?” It sounded more accusatory. 

He couldn’t help but shrug a bit as he finished his water, “Because I’m heading to enlist, uh, again.” Standing, he set the cup down as Ratchet made a strangled noise, “We just got you back Hound!” The medic paused, “Harold, you can’t be serious about this.” The name tugged at memory but he just sighed.

”I’m not exactly Harold Jackson anymore Ratch, and besides, I was sent back for a reason.” Ratchet shook his head quickly, “Not this, not for this fucking war that we’ve all got sucked into.” Sighed a bit, Hound shrugged again, “I swore to everyone that I’d put a stop to this fight, for Earth. Just because I’m not entirely human anymore doesn’t mean I can break my promise Doc. If anything, it means I have to keep it.” The look in Ratchet’s eyes almost tore his heart out. 

Gulping slightly, he shuffled his feet a bit, “Maybe when the war is over, I’ll get a chance at peace, but right now isn’t that time.” This time, Ratchet stood to speak, still coming nowhere near eye level with him, “You don’t even remember everything yet.” 

There was a connotation there, everyone, he didn’t remember everyone and it made his throat tight. 

But he took a breath, “Ratchet, I’m not gonna remember everything. Some god said so, and I don’t take to questioning deities that shoved me into a new body. Look,” Moving over, he sat back down, so that they would at least be closer to eye level. 

“If I don’t go, they’ll try to keep me out of this fight, our fight, my fight. One I already died for once, on a planet I’m not even from.” Though that could be argued now, with his new state, he was feeling lighter with every word though, “I might not remember it well, but I know when you all got here I was so mad.” He couldn’t suppress the chuckle as Ratchet tried to shake his head, “Yes, I was Ratch and if what little memory I have can serve me, I was livid.” 

Pausing for a moment, he gestured to Deadlock, “We hated each other, I don’t even know when we stopped, but we did. Look, if I can help in this fight and keep all of you from my fate, I’d call that a good life.” His voice grew quiet as tears came to his eyes, he wasn’t even entirely sure why, but he sucked in a breath.

”I don’t just gotta do it, Ratch, I want to. I want to be in the fight.” There was no denying how he felt, which was an envy every time he looked up at the stars, knowing that there was a fight somewhere out of his view he could be helping in, “Please, please understand.” 

Hound didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out as Ratchet nodded, “Even as a whole new person, you’re still you Hound. God, you’re still you and I hate it. Not because I hate you kid, but because you’re just that, so young even now when you’re younger. You probably gave your old man so many heart attacks.” Chuckling a bit, Hound nodded.

Though he couldn’t remember if had or not, and he didn’t want to remember.

Pushing off the couch, he sighed, “So, I’ll be back later, hopefully.” Ratchet scowled, “Not funny.” Smiling a bit, he shrugged, “Wasn’t supposed to be.” Deadlock sighed and pushed off the couch, “Alright, then lets go.” He almost wanted to scowl, he didn’t need a babysitter, but from the look that Deadlock and Ratchet exchanged, they certainly thought he did.

Sighing, he checked the hall first before exiting the apartment, Deadlock right behind him. 

“I think this is a bad idea, Hound, but I understand why you are doing it.” Deadlock’s voice was quiet as they took the stairs down, nodding a bit he sighed, “If it wasn’t my only shot at this, I probably wouldn’t be doing it. But I mean, do you honestly think they’ll let me finish my mission otherwise?”

Scoffing a bit, Deadlock shook his head, “You pilots and your missions, you're as bad as me.” He was smiling though and nodding, Hound chuckled, “Yeah, I bet.” The sunshine in Iacon still hurt his eyes, and he reached a hand up to block it a bit.

He wished he had his sunglasses, which were in his footlocker, on Earth and they wouldn’t fit his face. Sighing deeply, he watched his feet instead. 

—

Maybe it was because they hadn’t been back to Cybertron in a while, or maybe he was just tired, but honestly all he wanted was to be left alone. Course with his unit, no one couldn’t have a single minute of goddamned peace without someone trying to get someone else’s attention for something probably stupid.

It made him want to put his head through a wall. 

If he had it his way, he’d be asleep on the shuttle right now, away from everyone and out of the worst of the cold.

But no.

He was here, trying to fix his and Arcee’s heater while the others were trying to thaw their energon.

If he wasn’t wearing multiple layers and had turned the heat in his suit up, he would probably be shivering. Though the blanket across his legs and another around his shoulders was helping with part of that.

Even if he usually preferred to pilot standing, in what little space he had, it was just too cold to do so here. 

He’d even given his electric heating pad to Cee, a while ago actually, so he was glad she wouldn’t be terribly cold. Even if he was freezing his balls off.

The heater was off and it was refusing to come back on, which was why he had it in pieces at this point. He was the only person in their group with more than a weeks worth of experience in fixing anything, so it usually came down to him to fix this stuff. Though this particular heater was just being stubborn.

Normally, it was a fried wire or just needed to be cleaned, but now he had the whole thing in pieces and still didn’t know what the problem was. Sitting back on his heels, he couldn’t help the deep sigh that escaped him, glancing towards the others.

Twinges of jealousy skidded up his back, most of the unit was sitting around eating and laughing, except for Elita and Arcee. Those two were becoming thick as thieves and then he was repairing the heater.

Sure, he and Elita had had most of these conversations in the past that the two of them were having, but he couldn’t help how he felt and Cee was one of his best friends. 

But damnit, there were other people she could talk to, like Chromia or Nickel even. She had adapted to spending time with Cybertronians much faster than he had and Elita was different. Not just because she knew, but because she was always there for him, usually. 

He also kind of missed being the only human in the group, not for the reasons that he’d have thought of but no, he missed being able to say anything without his translator and not being called out on it. Now, he never said anything horrific or inappropriate for him to say, but he swore a lot with his translator off. 

It was driving him crazy and he honestly felt like he was slowly losing his mind, just enough to make repairing this damn heater unbearable. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Chromia or Elita were at his side, but one was eating and the other was with Arcee. No, he was out here alone to suffer with his thoughts that clawed at his throat.

God, he felt pathetic. 

Sighing deeply, he started to put the heater back together, cleaning each piece as he went. 

Time felt like it dragged, at least until Chromia came over and patted his shoulder,  on her way to taking up her vantage place some twenty feet behind him, “How’s the rebuild going?” Shrugging a bit, he swore, “Like shit. I still don’t know why it wasn’t working and won’t know if it’ll work until it’s back together.” She nodded, sighing. 

“Sometimes they just give up, we’ve been using them a lot lately, this one might have a few more cycles on it than the others.” Gritting his teeth, he nodded and forced a piece back into place, “Yeah, I know. They should be labeled.” Chuckling, she nodded before sitting down next to him, “They should, but at some point Skids would take the labels off and you’d have to start all over.” He tried not to groan.

Knowing she was right, he nodded again, “Then when we can require new ones, I will scratch the date into the side.” The shudder that ran up her back was audible and almost made him laugh, almost, “Right, sorry.” Shaking her head, she sighed and shifted her grip on her gun, “It’s alright, besides, if it keeps even one of us sane it could be worse.” 

Nodding a bit, he caught his tongue between his teeth before sighing, “How is?” Sides knew he didn’t need to get the whole question out anymore, at least in part because Chromia loved the excuse. 

A smile overtook her face as she stood, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Sunny is doing fine, Hide misses me.” Scoffing, he shook his head a bit, “Am I supposed to be surprised?" The shove was a light hearted one that brought a smile to his face, “Laugh it up Sides, but remember.” Nodding a bit, he chuckles as he bent back to the still very broken heater as Chromia moved to take her watch shift, somewhere about twenty or so feet behind him. 

Sighing deeply, he bent his head to the work, the sooner it was done the sooner he’d be warm again. 

The quiet returned in the way he hated it most, one that hung and dragged him back down. Any bit of comfort Chromia had brought was being washed away like a rouge wave. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss being the only human in the unit, if it wasn’t just for some of his exclusive time to talk with Elita. She understood how much he hated being alone, and had argued a number of times that he and Sunny should have remained together, but that would have never worked in the long term. He knows that, but in the moments like this where he questions why Arcee wasn’t placed on her own. 

Everyone in this unit was close and pretty tight knit, Chromia had just proven that and she was great, there was no denying that. She was close to him and her conjunx was incredibly close to Sunny, so that made some things easier in the distance.

But she wasn’t Elita.

Who talking to came so naturally and easily. 

The woman he’d accidentally called mon… too many times. God and now, it was like Arcee had just found that place and pushed him out enough to make him irritated.  

Now, Arcee did actually need the help. She’d never done anything like this, she’d barely gotten out of the rescue class when the Arcturus missions even came about, but it didn’t change his jealousy. 

Sighing and slamming the last piece in place, he tested the heater before starting to reattach the front panel. It was a hunk of junk, but it was at least a functional hunk of junk now. 

Their laughter carried over to him as he stood and dragged the heater towards the little lean-to shelters they had, “Alright ladies and gents, I got this piece of crap working.” The cheers almost made him smile, shoving it into place and adjusting Nickel’s mat so she would be closest to it, he adjusted the settings and sighed again.

If he never worked on another heater in his life, it would probably be too soon. 

Sitting down next to Moonracer, he sat back against one of the posts and crossed his arms, glancing towards where Elita and Arcee were still talking. A few of the others were still over there too. 

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, he tried relaxed breathing. It was something Sunny did. It had never once helped him. 

Maybe he’d lost track of time, or fell asleep, he wasn’t sure but he jumped up right and nearly smacked his head on the tent. Elita was quick to shush him and rested a hand on his shoulder, “Easy, it’s just me.” Nodding a bit, he ducked under the edge and moved outside. 

Acree moved in to take his place, slumping quickly, and he looked to Elita, “Night watch?” When she nodded a bit, he tried not to groan, moving to follow as Chromia moved past them too. 

Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he yawned and stretched as they settled down in the one real watch point they had. Elita shifted to set up her monitor of the cameras in the nearby forest and on top of the shuttle. 

He settled into a position that he’d be able to attack from, shifting his blanket closer around him, not caring if Elita noticed now. She knew and that wasn’t a problem at all.

”Are you cold?” Shrugging a bit, he started to watch the horizon, “Only a bit, with the heater not working very well, my suit can just barely keep up.” She hummed but shifted closer anyways, “We’ll be leaving this planet soon, once the barrier is installed we’re supposed to rotate to Cybertron.” He couldn’t suppress the scoff. 

Chuckling a bit, she nodded, “I know. I know. Megatron is just trying to get this in place as fast as he can, we don’t have to agree with his methods, we just have to do it.” That brought a chuckle out of him.

Elita smiled, “I haven’t heard you make that noise in a while. You’ve been… distant.” His blood ran cold, shrugging again, it took everything in him to not shift away, “We’ve been really busy and you’ve been busy helping Arcee.” She hummed, “There it is.” Rolling his eyes, his face burned. 

“You do realize that she is just asking advice, like you had, about all of this.” Nodding again, he rubbed his neck, “Of course I know that, but still. You have to admit things are different now that there are two of us.” Elita paused before nodding, “And knowing.” His mouth went dry, “Yes, and knowing.” 

It had been hard, her knowing, it had made things different, horribly so.

His throat tightened a bit, “You used to sit with me when I was repairing stuff.” His voice came out quieter than he would have liked, shrugging a bit, “And I’ve been fixing a lot of stuff alone the last couple of months. It’s just hard, okay?” Elita hummed before she moved closer.

Putting her arm around him, she kept her voice down too, “Sideswipe, once Arcee is trained up, it’s likely she and Moonracer will be moved to another unit.” That caught him entirely by surprise, “What? Why? Racer is one of our best.” Though nodding, there was a look in Elita’s eye, “Yeah, but Megatron lost his best two sharpshooters recently and we can get by with what we’ve got.” 

He was gaping and struggling for words, “But… But where will Arcee go? Megatron said he didn’t want to work with any other humans.” When Elita nodded a bit, he struggled to breathe, “She is good at this part of the job, but according to the simulations, she’ll be great at rescue.” 

Nodding a bit, he tried to say something, “She was a rescue class on Earth, at least for the first few years of her career.” Nodding again, Elita smiled, “That’s what she mentioned and we’re looking to put together a new rescue team. We had those before the last war but most of them joined up or left. Now we need someone with medics and professional rescuers to go around to all our spread out units. Especially once we have this big barrier in place. Small teams like ours will be limited to either one medic or someone with basic training. Then the larger units will only have one medic instead of three or more.” 

Shrugging a bit, she sighed slowly, “I think she’d be a great fit on a rescue team Sides, especially if that medic of yours joins one. Optimus is thinking about it.” His brain stopped working.

”Ratchet, on a rescue team.” She nodded again, humming, “I know he isn’t exactly a pilot, but him and Knockout would probably work well together for a unit like ours or Ironhide’s.” Yeah, his brain really was having a hard time picturing that.

Shaking his head slowly, he chuckled, “Yeah, that will go down like a led balloon commander.” She laughed and nodded, “I know, it’ll be great.” Smiling a bit, he sat back and looked up at the clearing sky. 

“The stars are pretty.” He kept his voice down, sitting there with Elita. Night watch was neither of their strong suits, but he was grateful for the time together even as his mind raced, anxiety tearing at his throat.

Just because he wanted time with Elita, doesn’t mean he wanted to see Arcee gone, or Moonracer. 

———

A/N

So, this chapter was originally going to be much longer, but instead I am breaking it into two because I can. So, look forward to next week. Also, I’ll have to post some stuff I’ve gotten to do in the last couple of weeks, my obsession with the 80’s isn’t just limited to transformers. Haha.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

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Part Seventy Eight - Understanding Goals

Part Seventy Seven

———

After the ASVAB, the armed services vocational aptitude battery, the entrance exam for the United States militaries, the recruit goes onto basic training for their given branch. 

In the Army, the recruit goes to BCT or basic combat training whether in the traditional army, reserves, or national guard. Basic combat training is one part of initial entry training (IET) of Army training, the other being advanced individual training or AIT. 

When a recruit is able to do both sections of IET at one location, it is referred to as One Station Unit Training, where they will spend 22 weeks in the total duration of their program. 

Infantry go to Fort Benning in Georgia, re-named after Corporal Fred G. Benning for his heroics in World War 1. Other occupations in the military are split among Fort Jackson in South Carolina, Fort Sill in Oklahoma, and Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri. 

Typically, AIT is the remainder of basic training which is defined by a trainees MOS or military occupational specialty which can last between four to seven months. Or more for foreign language training when necessary. 

It is at the end of all of this, that the trainee earns the title of soldier. 

Military training processes are similar across the board for the world, though mandatory and voluntary shift the timelines, as well as the expectations. 

—

Even if he couldn’t remember everything from when he was human, there were a few things he could remember. Like the difference between his dreams and his hallucinations from both the overuse and his crash. 

For one, he had never dreamed in color, it was always black and white, which was why his hallucinations had been so damn hard to realize, because they felt so real. Everything looked and felt really in those horrific seconds. His hallucinations had been awful, but he’d never liked calling them that, the moments when memories would overtake the reality of his day but that’s what Ratchet called them. 

Or had. That was one thing he’d yet to experience again, and with the fact it was connected to something he no longer was, maybe wouldn’t again but this was coming into a close second.

His dreams were weird, to put it mildly, at first it was because they were in color and certainly filled with colors only his cybertronian eyes would have been able to see. Then it was because in these dreams, he was human again. 

It had only been a couple of days that he had been Cybertronian, maybe five or six at this point, he wasn’t sure; but to dream of being human felt weird and almost wrong now. One thing was similar though, it felt like it was actually happening.  

Looking down at his hands and rubbing his fingers together, he could feel it, more strongly than when in the throws of overuse, sighing a bit he turned and froze. 

It was the beach, with his mother, her hand up in the air and waving, a smile shining for the first time in months, “What do you have there honey?” Grinning, he lifted the faded red piece of metal where the tones from the mixed paint caught his eyes, “It’s a piece of an old mech suit! Can I keep it?” Her laughter carried down the beach, “I think we have to!”

Running down the beach, he carried the piece of metal with him, the embossed star map burned into his mind through the feel or it rather than the sight of it. Mostly because the piece of metal had sat in a shadow box longer than he’d held it for by a lifetime. 

Shooting upright, he struggled to breathe. 

The apartment was dark and almost silent, aside from his struggling breaths and Ratchet’s snoring, but the feeling was weird as he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. Yet, he could tell where Deadlocka and Ratchet were without having to open them. 

Clutching his blanket, it took a lot for him to actually open his eyes and blink against the light they made. He took a few more shaky breaths and looked around the incredibly dark room. 

He was on one of the slabs in the bedroom, the human quarters to his left where they lined the window and another slab to his right where Deadlock was in fact dead to the world. This bed usually belongs to Prowl and it will be a hell of a time fitting a third one into the room. Maybe he’d make a space in the living room or something.

With a deep and tired sigh, he rolled over and hauled his blanket back over his shoulders. He still slept like a human, that was for sure. 

Laying there for another few seconds, he drew the mesh over his head and closed his eyes. Trying to get himself back to sleep for at least a few more hours, if all went according to plan, he’d have a busy day in the morning. 

It was the sunshine that woke him up, humming deeply and stopping himself from groaning when he stretched, plating shifting against his protoform, it felt like waking up in his assistance suit. His dreams had been of basic training, which was very fitting. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes then. 

With the blind pulled up from the window, he could see out onto Iacon from his bed. Sure, he’d been able to do so from his cot too but this felt different. Everything felt different. 

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, or slab, he glanced around the room. No one was there. Pushing off the slab, he almost kept his blanket around himself but he threw it back across the slab before heading out the door.

The lights in the living room were almost painfully bright and he groaned a bit, covering his incredibly pale eyes from it, “Damn.” It reminded him of a doctor's office, “Good morning, I guess.” Ratchet chuckled from the coffee table as he moved towards the kitchen, desperate for some water. 

“Try to have some energon this morning, would you?” Deadlock sounded like his mother and he tried not to scowl as he got himself a cube of water, “I’ll get to it at some point, Knockout left me with those patches so it’s not like I’ll starve.” Moving back into the living room, he sat down on the uncomfortable sofa. 

Sipping his water, he sighed, “So, Deadlock, do you know anything about the Cybertronian military?” The sound of a cracking cube almost brought a smile to his face as he sipped his water, “Why?” It sounded more accusatory. 

He couldn’t help but shrug a bit as he finished his water, “Because I’m heading to enlist, uh, again.” Standing, he set the cup down as Ratchet made a strangled noise, “We just got you back Hound!” The medic paused, “Harold, you can’t be serious about this.” The name tugged at memory but he just sighed.

”I’m not exactly Harold Jackson anymore Ratch, and besides, I was sent back for a reason.” Ratchet shook his head quickly, “Not this, not for this fucking war that we’ve all got sucked into.” Sighed a bit, Hound shrugged again, “I swore to everyone that I’d put a stop to this fight, for Earth. Just because I’m not entirely human anymore doesn’t mean I can break my promise Doc. If anything, it means I have to keep it.” The look in Ratchet’s eyes almost tore his heart out. 

Gulping slightly, he shuffled his feet a bit, “Maybe when the war is over, I’ll get a chance at peace, but right now isn’t that time.” This time, Ratchet stood to speak, still coming nowhere near eye level with him, “You don’t even remember everything yet.” 

There was a connotation there, everyone, he didn’t remember everyone and it made his throat tight. 

But he took a breath, “Ratchet, I’m not gonna remember everything. Some god said so, and I don’t take to questioning deities that shoved me into a new body. Look,” Moving over, he sat back down, so that they would at least be closer to eye level. 

“If I don’t go, they’ll try to keep me out of this fight, our fight, my fight. One I already died for once, on a planet I’m not even from.” Though that could be argued now, with his new state, he was feeling lighter with every word though, “I might not remember it well, but I know when you all got here I was so mad.” He couldn’t suppress the chuckle as Ratchet tried to shake his head, “Yes, I was Ratch and if what little memory I have can serve me, I was livid.” 

Pausing for a moment, he gestured to Deadlock, “We hated each other, I don’t even know when we stopped, but we did. Look, if I can help in this fight and keep all of you from my fate, I’d call that a good life.” His voice grew quiet as tears came to his eyes, he wasn’t even entirely sure why, but he sucked in a breath.

”I don’t just gotta do it, Ratch, I want to. I want to be in the fight.” There was no denying how he felt, which was an envy every time he looked up at the stars, knowing that there was a fight somewhere out of his view he could be helping in, “Please, please understand.” 

Hound didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out as Ratchet nodded, “Even as a whole new person, you’re still you Hound. God, you’re still you and I hate it. Not because I hate you kid, but because you’re just that, so young even now when you’re younger. You probably gave your old man so many heart attacks.” Chuckling a bit, Hound nodded.

Though he couldn’t remember if had or not, and he didn’t want to remember.

Pushing off the couch, he sighed, “So, I’ll be back later, hopefully.” Ratchet scowled, “Not funny.” Smiling a bit, he shrugged, “Wasn’t supposed to be.” Deadlock sighed and pushed off the couch, “Alright, then lets go.” He almost wanted to scowl, he didn’t need a babysitter, but from the look that Deadlock and Ratchet exchanged, they certainly thought he did.

Sighing, he checked the hall first before exiting the apartment, Deadlock right behind him. 

“I think this is a bad idea, Hound, but I understand why you are doing it.” Deadlock’s voice was quiet as they took the stairs down, nodding a bit he sighed, “If it wasn’t my only shot at this, I probably wouldn’t be doing it. But I mean, do you honestly think they’ll let me finish my mission otherwise?”

Scoffing a bit, Deadlock shook his head, “You pilots and your missions, you're as bad as me.” He was smiling though and nodding, Hound chuckled, “Yeah, I bet.” The sunshine in Iacon still hurt his eyes, and he reached a hand up to block it a bit.

He wished he had his sunglasses, which were in his footlocker, on Earth and they wouldn’t fit his face. Sighing deeply, he watched his feet instead. 

—

Maybe it was because they hadn’t been back to Cybertron in a while, or maybe he was just tired, but honestly all he wanted was to be left alone. Course with his unit, no one couldn’t have a single minute of goddamned peace without someone trying to get someone else’s attention for something probably stupid.

It made him want to put his head through a wall. 

If he had it his way, he’d be asleep on the shuttle right now, away from everyone and out of the worst of the cold.

But no.

He was here, trying to fix his and Arcee’s heater while the others were trying to thaw their energon.

If he wasn’t wearing multiple layers and had turned the heat in his suit up, he would probably be shivering. Though the blanket across his legs and another around his shoulders was helping with part of that.

Even if he usually preferred to pilot standing, in what little space he had, it was just too cold to do so here. 

He’d even given his electric heating pad to Cee, a while ago actually, so he was glad she wouldn’t be terribly cold. Even if he was freezing his balls off.

The heater was off and it was refusing to come back on, which was why he had it in pieces at this point. He was the only person in their group with more than a weeks worth of experience in fixing anything, so it usually came down to him to fix this stuff. Though this particular heater was just being stubborn.

Normally, it was a fried wire or just needed to be cleaned, but now he had the whole thing in pieces and still didn’t know what the problem was. Sitting back on his heels, he couldn’t help the deep sigh that escaped him, glancing towards the others.

Twinges of jealousy skidded up his back, most of the unit was sitting around eating and laughing, except for Elita and Arcee. Those two were becoming thick as thieves and then he was repairing the heater.

Sure, he and Elita had had most of these conversations in the past that the two of them were having, but he couldn’t help how he felt and Cee was one of his best friends. 

But damnit, there were other people she could talk to, like Chromia or Nickel even. She had adapted to spending time with Cybertronians much faster than he had and Elita was different. Not just because she knew, but because she was always there for him, usually. 

He also kind of missed being the only human in the group, not for the reasons that he’d have thought of but no, he missed being able to say anything without his translator and not being called out on it. Now, he never said anything horrific or inappropriate for him to say, but he swore a lot with his translator off. 

It was driving him crazy and he honestly felt like he was slowly losing his mind, just enough to make repairing this damn heater unbearable. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Chromia or Elita were at his side, but one was eating and the other was with Arcee. No, he was out here alone to suffer with his thoughts that clawed at his throat.

God, he felt pathetic. 

Sighing deeply, he started to put the heater back together, cleaning each piece as he went. 

Time felt like it dragged, at least until Chromia came over and patted his shoulder,  on her way to taking up her vantage place some twenty feet behind him, “How’s the rebuild going?” Shrugging a bit, he swore, “Like shit. I still don’t know why it wasn’t working and won’t know if it’ll work until it’s back together.” She nodded, sighing. 

“Sometimes they just give up, we’ve been using them a lot lately, this one might have a few more cycles on it than the others.” Gritting his teeth, he nodded and forced a piece back into place, “Yeah, I know. They should be labeled.” Chuckling, she nodded before sitting down next to him, “They should, but at some point Skids would take the labels off and you’d have to start all over.” He tried not to groan.

Knowing she was right, he nodded again, “Then when we can require new ones, I will scratch the date into the side.” The shudder that ran up her back was audible and almost made him laugh, almost, “Right, sorry.” Shaking her head, she sighed and shifted her grip on her gun, “It’s alright, besides, if it keeps even one of us sane it could be worse.” 

Nodding a bit, he caught his tongue between his teeth before sighing, “How is?” Sides knew he didn’t need to get the whole question out anymore, at least in part because Chromia loved the excuse. 

A smile overtook her face as she stood, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Sunny is doing fine, Hide misses me.” Scoffing, he shook his head a bit, “Am I supposed to be surprised?" The shove was a light hearted one that brought a smile to his face, “Laugh it up Sides, but remember.” Nodding a bit, he chuckles as he bent back to the still very broken heater as Chromia moved to take her watch shift, somewhere about twenty or so feet behind him. 

Sighing deeply, he bent his head to the work, the sooner it was done the sooner he’d be warm again. 

The quiet returned in the way he hated it most, one that hung and dragged him back down. Any bit of comfort Chromia had brought was being washed away like a rouge wave. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss being the only human in the unit, if it wasn’t just for some of his exclusive time to talk with Elita. She understood how much he hated being alone, and had argued a number of times that he and Sunny should have remained together, but that would have never worked in the long term. He knows that, but in the moments like this where he questions why Arcee wasn’t placed on her own. 

Everyone in this unit was close and pretty tight knit, Chromia had just proven that and she was great, there was no denying that. She was close to him and her conjunx was incredibly close to Sunny, so that made some things easier in the distance.

But she wasn’t Elita.

Who talking to came so naturally and easily. 

The woman he’d accidentally called mon… too many times. God and now, it was like Arcee had just found that place and pushed him out enough to make him irritated.  

Now, Arcee did actually need the help. She’d never done anything like this, she’d barely gotten out of the rescue class when the Arcturus missions even came about, but it didn’t change his jealousy. 

Sighing and slamming the last piece in place, he tested the heater before starting to reattach the front panel. It was a hunk of junk, but it was at least a functional hunk of junk now. 

Their laughter carried over to him as he stood and dragged the heater towards the little lean-to shelters they had, “Alright ladies and gents, I got this piece of crap working.” The cheers almost made him smile, shoving it into place and adjusting Nickel’s mat so she would be closest to it, he adjusted the settings and sighed again.

If he never worked on another heater in his life, it would probably be too soon. 

Sitting down next to Moonracer, he sat back against one of the posts and crossed his arms, glancing towards where Elita and Arcee were still talking. A few of the others were still over there too. 

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, he tried relaxed breathing. It was something Sunny did. It had never once helped him. 

Maybe he’d lost track of time, or fell asleep, he wasn’t sure but he jumped up right and nearly smacked his head on the tent. Elita was quick to shush him and rested a hand on his shoulder, “Easy, it’s just me.” Nodding a bit, he ducked under the edge and moved outside. 

Acree moved in to take his place, slumping quickly, and he looked to Elita, “Night watch?” When she nodded a bit, he tried not to groan, moving to follow as Chromia moved past them too. 

Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he yawned and stretched as they settled down in the one real watch point they had. Elita shifted to set up her monitor of the cameras in the nearby forest and on top of the shuttle. 

He settled into a position that he’d be able to attack from, shifting his blanket closer around him, not caring if Elita noticed now. She knew and that wasn’t a problem at all.

”Are you cold?” Shrugging a bit, he started to watch the horizon, “Only a bit, with the heater not working very well, my suit can just barely keep up.” She hummed but shifted closer anyways, “We’ll be leaving this planet soon, once the barrier is installed we’re supposed to rotate to Cybertron.” He couldn’t suppress the scoff. 

Chuckling a bit, she nodded, “I know. I know. Megatron is just trying to get this in place as fast as he can, we don’t have to agree with his methods, we just have to do it.” That brought a chuckle out of him.

Elita smiled, “I haven’t heard you make that noise in a while. You’ve been… distant.” His blood ran cold, shrugging again, it took everything in him to not shift away, “We’ve been really busy and you’ve been busy helping Arcee.” She hummed, “There it is.” Rolling his eyes, his face burned. 

“You do realize that she is just asking advice, like you had, about all of this.” Nodding again, he rubbed his neck, “Of course I know that, but still. You have to admit things are different now that there are two of us.” Elita paused before nodding, “And knowing.” His mouth went dry, “Yes, and knowing.” 

It had been hard, her knowing, it had made things different, horribly so.

His throat tightened a bit, “You used to sit with me when I was repairing stuff.” His voice came out quieter than he would have liked, shrugging a bit, “And I’ve been fixing a lot of stuff alone the last couple of months. It’s just hard, okay?” Elita hummed before she moved closer.

Putting her arm around him, she kept her voice down too, “Sideswipe, once Arcee is trained up, it’s likely she and Moonracer will be moved to another unit.” That caught him entirely by surprise, “What? Why? Racer is one of our best.” Though nodding, there was a look in Elita’s eye, “Yeah, but Megatron lost his best two sharpshooters recently and we can get by with what we’ve got.” 

He was gaping and struggling for words, “But… But where will Arcee go? Megatron said he didn’t want to work with any other humans.” When Elita nodded a bit, he struggled to breathe, “She is good at this part of the job, but according to the simulations, she’ll be great at rescue.” 

Nodding a bit, he tried to say something, “She was a rescue class on Earth, at least for the first few years of her career.” Nodding again, Elita smiled, “That’s what she mentioned and we’re looking to put together a new rescue team. We had those before the last war but most of them joined up or left. Now we need someone with medics and professional rescuers to go around to all our spread out units. Especially once we have this big barrier in place. Small teams like ours will be limited to either one medic or someone with basic training. Then the larger units will only have one medic instead of three or more.” 

Shrugging a bit, she sighed slowly, “I think she’d be a great fit on a rescue team Sides, especially if that medic of yours joins one. Optimus is thinking about it.” His brain stopped working.

”Ratchet, on a rescue team.” She nodded again, humming, “I know he isn’t exactly a pilot, but him and Knockout would probably work well together for a unit like ours or Ironhide’s.” Yeah, his brain really was having a hard time picturing that.

Shaking his head slowly, he chuckled, “Yeah, that will go down like a led balloon commander.” She laughed and nodded, “I know, it’ll be great.” Smiling a bit, he sat back and looked up at the clearing sky. 

“The stars are pretty.” He kept his voice down, sitting there with Elita. Night watch was neither of their strong suits, but he was grateful for the time together even as his mind raced, anxiety tearing at his throat.

Just because he wanted time with Elita, doesn’t mean he wanted to see Arcee gone, or Moonracer. 

———

A/N

So, this chapter was originally going to be much longer, but instead I am breaking it into two because I can. So, look forward to next week. Also, I’ll have to post some stuff I’ve gotten to do in the last couple of weeks, my obsession with the 80’s isn’t just limited to transformers. Haha.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

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