ante_luce | Challenge response

First of my challenge responses.

Prompt from

bookworm_faith:
Something about Toasters. >D I would like to know how this might work, in a cyborg world. Failing that, bring Hunter into this world?

You are an evil, evil woman. Bunny jumped me the moment I saw your prompt and didn't fragging stop until the fic was done. And I was snickering and/or grinning like a mad child the whole time I was writing, so my kinfolk were treading a mite cautious about me.

Note: The 'Hunter' being asked for is an OC, not any canon TF cast member. Apologies if anyone thought otherwise ^_^;;

“Wheeljack, I need the schematics for… What are you doing?”

“Having a snack!” The man’s reply was punctuated by the blinking light of his speech synthesiser. Wheeljack had been born with a defective larynx, with surgery either being unwanted, out of the question, or of no use, Ratchet had never asked. Thusly, the engineer been unable to communicate using speech until the advent of text to voice translation software. The synthesiser was a creation of his own that, coupled with the mods he now carried (and had helped design), allowed him to actually ‘speak’. Even if his mouth never moved and his ‘voice’ was kinda odd and issued from a tiny speaker on the device wrapped snugly around his neck.

“… I see. In your lab, amongst all the hazardous materials and things that go ‘splodey?” Ratchet eyed the man and his surroundings with some concern, but the inventor didn’t seem to notice, waving nonchalantly at something large and mechanical behind him.

“Yeah. Working on something interesting, thought I’d make toast and eat here.”

“And… Instead of getting the toast from the pantry, you brought the toaster here.”

“Oh no, I’d never take the toaster from the pantry. I built this one.”

“Ah.”

There was a ‘ding’, and toast popped up from the sleek little green toaster that sat at the end of the benchtop (and at a respectable distance from several piles of parts and wiring, thankfully), flanked by a butter dish and a small pot of jam. Wheeljack grinned, gingerly picking up the hot slices and popping them onto a plate, reaching for the putty spatula he’d stuck in the butter. “Care to join me, Ratchet? I can get more.”

“Uh…”

“Hunter won’t mind.”

“… Who’s Hunter?”

“The toaster, of course.”

“You named the toaster.”

“I couldn’t keep calling him ‘Toaster’. It’d be rude, like calling you ‘Human’.”

“… Of course.”

“I’ll introduce you, Hunter, come say hello.”

Ratchet was about to call for Ironhide to help him drag the obviously unhinged engineer down to the med bay for an examination when the toaster skittered over. He blinked at it.

Then the toaster beeped at him.

“Ratch’, c’mon, say hi back.” Wheeljack prompted in a stage whisper, and the medic’s mouth just opened and shut for a few moments before he managed to actually say something.

“… Hi.”

The toaster beeped once more, and there was that ‘ding’ sound again.

“He’s asking if you’d like some toast.”

“I… Alright.”

Idly, Ratchet considered that he was taking anthropomorphisation to a disturbing degree, because Hunter- … the toaster’s replying beep sounded ridiculously pleased. The little green box travelled back to its end of the bench, and thin, spindly arms reached out from it to the plastic bag holding a loaf of bread. First one slice, then another, was carefully extracted, rotated to have the rounded edges pointed up, then popped into the toaster’s slots.

“He can butter and add jam too, but he’s cautious about doing so around anyone else but me. It scares some people when they’ve not been introduced.” The inventor volunteered, after observing Ratchet’s dumbfounded expression.

“How does it-”

“Hunter.”

“… How does Hunter navigate? Much less be able to handle bread slices like that? I see no optical units.”

“That would be silly, wouldn’t it? Cameras on a toaster, heh. He uses ambient sonar and GPS.”

Ratchet stared at Wheeljack, then slowly let his forehead rest on the bench top. At the other end of the bench, his toast was done, and the toaster was merrily fixing it up with butter and jam (after beeping at him to ask his preference and oh frag he really was taking the anthropomorphisation too far) for him.

Today would be a long day.

= = =

“… Why are we out here?”

Jazz shrugged in response to Smokescreen’s question. “Wheeljack wanted to go on a picnic somewhere away from the usual spots. He took Ratchet. ‘Jack has an absolutely crap sense of direction, and phone and WiFi reception in this area is about as lousy.”

“… Frag.”

“Yup.”

“Guys! I think I see them!” A few feet ahead, Bluestreak called back, and they hurried to catch up with him.

“… Well, that was faster than usual.” Observed Ironhide, and Jazz nodded.

“Yeah. Hey, there they are. That’s Ratchet, and Wheeljack, and… What is that thing on a leash?”

All assembled stared, and Smokescreen ventured cautiously. “… Looks like a toaster.”

//I'm going hunting, I'm the hunter//

Jazz groaned. “Bee, are you telling me the toaster has a name?”

//Yeah, Yeah Yeah, Yeah yeah, Yeaah//

“Bee helped ‘Jack program him.” Mikela-holographic shrugged, and Sam-holographic shook with snickers. The trio of humans and toaster reached the search party, and once they were near enough, Bee scooped up the toaster, petting it with a grin. Said toaster beeped, and Mikela cooed.

“Yes, you’re a good toaster, Hunter.”

“Hah! Told you he’d be able to get us back!” Wheeljack was beside himself with pride, and Ratchet just closed his eyes and muttered at the rest of the group.

“Don’t ask.”