Hunter Green (Part 6)
Oct. 19th, 2008 02:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceA bit longer than usual, I think, but I'm going to have to try very hard to stay away from fic-writing for a bit, for the sake of uni. The bunnies have been suspiciously rather agreeable about this, although I think they're just regrouping to plan a coup once RL gets more conducive.
Title: Hunter Green (Part 6)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before.
“Hey Blue’. Wanna join us for a few vid games in the rec room?”
“Oh, sure! Hunter, c’mon!”
Hunter took a look at the pair of mechs looming over them (specifically, their expressions) and shook his head to decline the invitation. “It’s alright, Bluestreak. I’ll just head back to my quarters; they’re not far from here, Red Alert probably won’t fuss for more than a few weeks over my being unchaperoned for that distance.”
While Sideswipe snickered over the mech’s accurate prediction of their Security Director’s reaction, his twin just shot the pair of Datsuns an impatient glare.
“We weren’t inviting it anyway. Now are you coming or not?”
At Bluestreak’s indignant cry the black and white mech patted him on the shoulder and quietly murmured that he didn’t mind. “Go spend time with your friends Blue’. You’ve given up most of your off hours for me, I’m sure they miss you.”
“If they don’t want you there then I’m not going.”
“Honestly. It’s alright.”
“No it’s not!”
“Primus Blue’, you’re pathetic, know that? Clinging to that freak like it really was Prowl, and not some aberration of the natural order.” The cruel drawl stopped Bluestreak short, and he turned disbelieving optics onto Sunstreaker.
“What? How can you say that!?”
“Why? Can’t handle harsh reality? That,” Here a finger was jabbed abruptly in Hunter’s faceplates, and he took a step back. “Is a program, a bunch of code and glitches slapped together to play puppet master for Prowl’s chassis, pretending to be a mech. And you’re treating it like one. Makes me sick to my fuel tanks.”
“Hunter is not a program! Take that back!” The gunner was visibly restraining himself from dealing out violence, hands clenched into fists, optics darting over to the identical red mech slouched against the wall, no longer snickering, but with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Pit no. It’s the truth, isn’t it? Wake up from your happy dream world Bluestreak. Put away your little toy. We should have wiped that glitch from Prowl’s processors the moment it set foot in the Ark, or at least locked it away in the brig until Prowl wakes the frag up, not let it-“
If looks could kill the golden mech would be so much charred ash on the floor of the Ark. As it was, Bluestreak just uncharacteristically cut the mech off.
“To the Pit with you.” He then shoved Sunstreaker away and turned, catching hold of a tense Hunter to pull him along.
“I wasn’t done.” Sunstreaker reached out to grab the grey mech’s arm, wrenching it away from the A.I. Bluestreak couldn’t help it, he cried out in pain and Sunstreaker suddenly found himself with a face full of hostile black and white mech. Sideswipe shot into full battle stance, surprised that he’d barely managed to see the tactician’s chassis move, but held his peace as white fingers were now buried in the neck cables of his brother, amongst the most vulnerable energon lines and circuits. The mech now perched on his brother’s chassis, door wings stiff and high and optics practically blazing with fury could deactivate Sunstreaker with ease, and if either twin made one wrong move, most likely would. Also, Bluestreak had drawn a blaster, and taken aim at him, which frankly scared him a little more.
Leaning close to be optic to optic to the prone mech, Hunter hissed, cold and low and even and so much like Prowl when the SIC was that fragged off that all three other mechs instinctively stiffened. It took a lot to get the tactician that pissed, and the unlucky mech to do it often rued their lot in life for a good long while after.
“I don’t care what you think about me. But hurt Bluestreak again, and I will take you apart. Are. We. Clear.” He punctuated this statement with ever increasing pressure on Sunstreaker’s neck cables.
“Crystal.” With his twin unable to answer, Sideswipe spoke up, clearly wary of the A.I. Hunter nodded, then shoved himself off the fallen bot and stalked away, Bluestreak falling into step beside him. Both twins watched as he softly inquired and apologised about the gunner’s arm, and was inundated with reassurances that it didn’t really hurt anymore and that Bluestreak had no idea Prowl could ever move that fast or that Sunstreaker could be so mean.
“Hey. Hunter.” Both turned to face the twins, specifically Sunstreaker, who’d risen and was rubbing a hand over his sore neck cables. With a grim little smile, the golden mech nodded.
“You’ll do. Invite’s still open, for both of you.”
“This… This was a test?!” Bluestreak looked like he didn’t know whether to kill the twins or just storm off.
Sideswipe shrugged in reply. “Yeah. We don’t care what he is. If Hunter’s willing to take us on to protect you, that’s good enough for us.”
“Besides, he figured it out.”
“Hunter?!” An incredulous look was directed at the named mech.
“Only after I ended up on his chassis, digit deep in his energon lines.” A wry flicker of a smile at his own impulsiveness, and a thumb was jerked in the direction of Suntreaker. At Bluestreak’s ‘Explain. Now.’ look, Hunter elaborated. “They would never hurt you for any reason otherwise. Sunstreaker’s grip on your arm would be painful initially, but leave no damage. And I did manage to knock him down.”
The frontline mech didn’t give a verbal answer to that, but shrugged one shoulder in a non-committal fashion before speaking.
“Well then. Bluestreak.” The mech started at the sound of his name. “Wha?”
The Lamborghini was quiet for a bit before speaking. “Sorry.”
Bluestreak stared at him, thrown by the fact that Sunstreaker was apologising, before he smiled and the golden mech subtly relaxed. “Already forgiven Sunny.”
“Alright! Enough mushy mushy. Game time, and I call dibs on Hunter and his tactical programming!” As the pair of Datsuns were pushed in the direction of the rec room by an eager red mech, both exchanged a look with each other, Hunter curious, and Bluestreak resigned.
========================================
Ironhide found them that way, Hunter and Bluestreak between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, all four packed like sardines on a couch in front of the vid screen. After a few snickers at Hunter’s expense when he was handed a controller and didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with it (“I’m guessing Prowl never touched one of these games if he could help it.”), and some helpful coaching from Bluestreak and some not-so-helpful comments from the peanut gallery, the quartet were having a pretty good time.
He stared, caught up in the sight of Bluestreak laughing again, Sideswipe looking playful once more, and Sunstreaker not constantly glowering or being impassive. Most striking was the grin on the face of an old comrade, and a laugh he’d not heard for a long, long time.
Then his processors caught up and he remembered that Prowl had never laughed quite so freely, had not really laughed at all except for the few times he’d caught the mech off guard before Sentinel passed, and even then his laughter was… hesitant, a quiet chuckle that was quickly hidden. The few other mechs in rec room were also transfixed by the sight, and Ironhide ruefully agreed with the sentiment.
“Hunter.” The mech paused and looked up from the game, as did Bluestreak and Sunstreaker, though Sideswipe took the opportunity to kill off both of their characters before doing the same.
“Sir?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I just got done calming Red down, something about you attacking a mech?”
“That was our fault. We were testing him.” Ironhide briefly shuttered optics in surprise. The twins rarely, if ever, admitted outright to anything. He then turned a considering look onto the black and white mech, who had immediately drawn on a closed, wary expression.
“Well, you’re still in one piece. Good for you. But Ratchet wants to take another look at you, and I’ve been roped into playing messenger and escort. So c’mon.” A short pause as he held up a hand to forestall any protests from Blustreak or the twins. “He’s not in any trouble. Red’s just being himself, and Hunter was due for another inspection anyway.”
The mech nodded and stood, bidding the three on the couch farewell before trailing Ironhide out of the room. Ironhide was silent as they walked to the Med Bay, until he broke the quiet by speaking.
“I taught Prowl, a long time ago. Mech was built for the role of Prime’s Second, for practical and security reasons, and I had to watch him until we were sure he’d chosen to be an Autobot before we let him near Sentinel Prime. The mech wouldn’t hear of programming in an allegiance, not that it was even considered for long. Still, we needed a bot for the position, and those that made it past the screening just weren’t quite good enough.” The black and white mech was silent, not that Ironhide had expected him to say anything. He continued.
“Prowl came online knowing everything about his job, and precious little about anything else. S’why I suppose he’s got all those emotional suppression programs running. He doesn’t know how to deal with them very well. He was learning though, ‘till things really went to the Pit. Then he started running them full time. Ratchet thinks it’s why his logic processors lock up as easily as they do, and why you haven’t crashed from locking up yet, since you don’t do the same. ‘Parently, suppressing the emotional circuits puts additional strain on the logic ones, because the emotional circuits handle stuff that isn’t cut and dried and logical.”
He directed a contemplative expression at Hunter. “In a way, I guess you’re how Prowl could have been as a youngling. Don’t give me that look. Skyfire’s sure you’re not an A.I., not anymore, at least. That’s mainly why Ratchet’s going to take another look at you now. Seems the scans Preceptor’s been taking look different every time.”
========================================
Hunter had been in the Med Bay for a long time. Bluestreak had gotten concerned and gone to check on him, but was asked to stay outside, and eventually had to be coaxed away from the doors to go refuel and get some recharge. Skyfire had gone to the rec room to grab some energon for the others, and was talking with Sunstreaker, who’d come over in a surprising departure from character, while the cubes filled, when Preceptor burst in crying out his name excitedly.
“Skyfire! You have to come see this! It’s astounding!”
“Perceptor, calm down! What is it?”
“Hunter’s programming no longer matches that of the base program in the data he gave us, in fact, if he didn’t say he’d started out that way, I wouldn’t be sure if it ever did! It’s evolving! Adapting! Learning! His programming is nearly equivalent to that of a Cybertronian in the youngling stages! He could be real! He actually could be real!”
A brief stunned pause, before the jet smiled. “’Cep’, that’s amazing!”
“Isn’t it just so! Please accompany me back, you have to observe this with your own optics!” The smaller mech was very nearly bouncing in his excitement. Catching hold of Skyfire’s hand, he practically dragged the jet out of the rec room, Sunstreaker faintly assuring him he’d run the cubes over when they were filled. Skyfire tried not to consider how else the golden mech’s words could be interpreted as he was pulled along by the microscope. Once out of audio range of the rec room, Perceptor let go and he raised an optic ridge.
“Perceptor, was that really necessary? We’d already figured that out when I left for energon.”
“This way the rest of the crew will find out that Hunter’s not just a program any more. Maybe they won’t shun him so much.” Perceptor glanced down at the floor. “It was the least I could do to make up for frightening him.”
The other scientist patted him gently on the shoulder. “I think he’s long forgiven you, ‘Cep’.”
“I need to forgive myself, ‘Fire.”
========================================
Sunstreaker was bored. He’d done as he said he would, and brought the energon to the Med Bay, but he also wanted to talk to Skyfire, continue the conversation they’d been having, and the jet was across the room, nattering away with the doc, the microscope and the walking disaster zone, also known as Wheeljack. In fact, the mech was in the Med Bay because of one such disaster, having come in to get patched up. As he cycled air impatiently, about to head out of the doors, he was diverted by Hunter addressing him.
“Sunstreaker.”
“Yeah?” The black and white mech shifted, looking unsettled, before speaking again.
“Am I hurting Bluestreak?”
Sunstreaker paused. “And you would ask me that, why?”
“You and your brother care for him, if I were having even the slightest negative effect, you’d pick up on it. And I trust you wouldn’t hesitate to tell me that I am.” There was silence as the frontliner considered this, and allowed that it was true, though he didn’t say so out loud. Still, the black and white mech knew he’d made his point.
“… In what way?”
“What you said in the corridor, before we played vid games. Does my presence harm more than it helps him? Does he see me as Prowl, and is just hoping I’ll come to my senses one day? ”
“… We were afraid of that.”
“I see.” Hunter's expression went blank again.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry. He played vid games with you, and I know even the thought of asking Prowl to do the same would short Blue’s logic and probability circuits. Pit, Bluestreak shoved me, and pulled a blaster on Sideswipe for you. He wouldn’t have done that for Prowl.”
“Mainly because you wouldn’t have said to your SIC what you did to him and me.”
“We’ve ragged on the mech plenty. Called him a glorified tactical abacus, a cold sparked glitch. I even tried to slug him once. Bluestreak, apart from protesting and being mildly to majorly upset with us, never quite descended into violence. He knows whatever we say can’t hurt Prowl, and that we respect him too much to really attack the mech. You, on the other hand, he defended with a fury because you’re not Prowl. He’s as protective of you as Prowl ever was of him. And you’re the same way.”
Hunter gave him a dubious look, unconvinced, and Sunstreaker’s next words were a little snappier.
“Look, it was a test for him as much as it was for you. If we thought you were in any way, shape or form bad for Blue, you’d fragging know it. What brought this on?”
“… He hesitates sometimes when he catches sight of me. Sometimes, he starts to call me by… another name.”
This gave the golden mech pause. While they’d noticed the first happening, the twins, by accident or design, had not spent much time near Bluestreak when he was with Hunter, and as such had not heard him call Hunter ‘Prowl’.
“I am hurting him, and the others close to Prowl, aren’t I. He sees me and thinks of Prowl, and he misses him and with me around he has something that looks like Prowl but isn’t. And it hurts him more. I don’t want to hurt him. Even if it is because Prowl doesn’t want to do so either, I don’t want to hurt Blue’.”
At the lost look on Hunter’s faceplates, Sunstreaker was abruptly reminded of his conversation with Skyfire, back in the rec room, and the opinion of the scientist that the personality inhabiting Prowl’s chassis was truly, very young indeed.
“You’re helping him too.” He fiddled with a piece of scrap metal picked up from somewhere to avoid the disconcerting sight of what looked like Prowl not knowing what to do.
“… After, he wouldn’t accept an invite to play vid games. He didn’t talk as much, he still doesn’t talk as much as he did before, but Primus, this is an improvement. His quarters are near ours, and Blue’s always had trouble recharging. Got worse… after. Interrupted recharge cycles and everything. Then you came along and he’s still not all whole, but he’s doing better.”
“… I... Thank you.” Then Skyfire called Hunter over for more poking and prodding and Sunstreaker was left on his own once more.
Primus, he was bored.
========================================
Ironhide returned to the Med Bay, pausing just a short while on the odd sight of Sunstreaker talking to Skyfire. Perceptor seemed captivated by the screen of the console where strings of data scrolled across, as was Wheeljack, and Ratchet was putting away the equipment they’d just used on Hunter.
“Well, let’s leave the eggheads to do their thing. Hunter, come with me to the training rooms. I wanna see what the ‘Cons taught you.”
“Sir?” His reply to the clearly bewildered mech was overridden by that of the clearly annoyed medic, brandishing a wrench.
“Oh no you don’t. May I remind you that Red Alert’s insisted on neutralising all of this mech’s internal weaponry? Including the blades you seem so unhealthily fascinated with? Against you, Hunter’s about as lethal as a kitten. He’d be scrap on the floor in minutes.”
“So reactivate them.”
The CMO’s only response was a glower, and Ironhide spread his hands in a wheedling fashion.
“Look, I should find out if the ‘Cons have taught him, and by association, Prowl, any new tricks, and this is a good opportunity. Just the blades and the claws. I already know what Prowl can do with his missiles.”
“That’s the most fragging flimsy excuse I’ve ever heard, and the twins come here on a regular basis.”
“But you also can’t deny it’s true.” He was pushing his luck, but Ironhide had always been a bit of a coolant junkie. Ratchet growled in response.
“No, I can’t. Which only ticks me off even more. So quit it and let me work in peace before I kick you out with your vocaliser deactivated and a wrench embedded in your behind.”
“Love you too Ratch’.” He ducked, grinning, and the medic snarled again, only for both to stop when they heard a muffled laugh from Hunter, who immediately stopped as well when they looked at him, shuffling uncertainly.
Calmly, Ratchet moved towards the mech to do as asked, dealing a threatening look at Ironhide as he did so. “I’d better not have to make any repairs once you’re done.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be careful with him.”
“Who says I’m worried about Hunter?”
“You do care!”
The sound of wrench striking helm was overlaid by Ironhide’s snickering as the pair exited the Bay for the training rooms.
Title: Hunter Green (Part 6)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before.
“Hey Blue’. Wanna join us for a few vid games in the rec room?”
“Oh, sure! Hunter, c’mon!”
Hunter took a look at the pair of mechs looming over them (specifically, their expressions) and shook his head to decline the invitation. “It’s alright, Bluestreak. I’ll just head back to my quarters; they’re not far from here, Red Alert probably won’t fuss for more than a few weeks over my being unchaperoned for that distance.”
While Sideswipe snickered over the mech’s accurate prediction of their Security Director’s reaction, his twin just shot the pair of Datsuns an impatient glare.
“We weren’t inviting it anyway. Now are you coming or not?”
At Bluestreak’s indignant cry the black and white mech patted him on the shoulder and quietly murmured that he didn’t mind. “Go spend time with your friends Blue’. You’ve given up most of your off hours for me, I’m sure they miss you.”
“If they don’t want you there then I’m not going.”
“Honestly. It’s alright.”
“No it’s not!”
“Primus Blue’, you’re pathetic, know that? Clinging to that freak like it really was Prowl, and not some aberration of the natural order.” The cruel drawl stopped Bluestreak short, and he turned disbelieving optics onto Sunstreaker.
“What? How can you say that!?”
“Why? Can’t handle harsh reality? That,” Here a finger was jabbed abruptly in Hunter’s faceplates, and he took a step back. “Is a program, a bunch of code and glitches slapped together to play puppet master for Prowl’s chassis, pretending to be a mech. And you’re treating it like one. Makes me sick to my fuel tanks.”
“Hunter is not a program! Take that back!” The gunner was visibly restraining himself from dealing out violence, hands clenched into fists, optics darting over to the identical red mech slouched against the wall, no longer snickering, but with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Pit no. It’s the truth, isn’t it? Wake up from your happy dream world Bluestreak. Put away your little toy. We should have wiped that glitch from Prowl’s processors the moment it set foot in the Ark, or at least locked it away in the brig until Prowl wakes the frag up, not let it-“
If looks could kill the golden mech would be so much charred ash on the floor of the Ark. As it was, Bluestreak just uncharacteristically cut the mech off.
“To the Pit with you.” He then shoved Sunstreaker away and turned, catching hold of a tense Hunter to pull him along.
“I wasn’t done.” Sunstreaker reached out to grab the grey mech’s arm, wrenching it away from the A.I. Bluestreak couldn’t help it, he cried out in pain and Sunstreaker suddenly found himself with a face full of hostile black and white mech. Sideswipe shot into full battle stance, surprised that he’d barely managed to see the tactician’s chassis move, but held his peace as white fingers were now buried in the neck cables of his brother, amongst the most vulnerable energon lines and circuits. The mech now perched on his brother’s chassis, door wings stiff and high and optics practically blazing with fury could deactivate Sunstreaker with ease, and if either twin made one wrong move, most likely would. Also, Bluestreak had drawn a blaster, and taken aim at him, which frankly scared him a little more.
Leaning close to be optic to optic to the prone mech, Hunter hissed, cold and low and even and so much like Prowl when the SIC was that fragged off that all three other mechs instinctively stiffened. It took a lot to get the tactician that pissed, and the unlucky mech to do it often rued their lot in life for a good long while after.
“I don’t care what you think about me. But hurt Bluestreak again, and I will take you apart. Are. We. Clear.” He punctuated this statement with ever increasing pressure on Sunstreaker’s neck cables.
“Crystal.” With his twin unable to answer, Sideswipe spoke up, clearly wary of the A.I. Hunter nodded, then shoved himself off the fallen bot and stalked away, Bluestreak falling into step beside him. Both twins watched as he softly inquired and apologised about the gunner’s arm, and was inundated with reassurances that it didn’t really hurt anymore and that Bluestreak had no idea Prowl could ever move that fast or that Sunstreaker could be so mean.
“Hey. Hunter.” Both turned to face the twins, specifically Sunstreaker, who’d risen and was rubbing a hand over his sore neck cables. With a grim little smile, the golden mech nodded.
“You’ll do. Invite’s still open, for both of you.”
“This… This was a test?!” Bluestreak looked like he didn’t know whether to kill the twins or just storm off.
Sideswipe shrugged in reply. “Yeah. We don’t care what he is. If Hunter’s willing to take us on to protect you, that’s good enough for us.”
“Besides, he figured it out.”
“Hunter?!” An incredulous look was directed at the named mech.
“Only after I ended up on his chassis, digit deep in his energon lines.” A wry flicker of a smile at his own impulsiveness, and a thumb was jerked in the direction of Suntreaker. At Bluestreak’s ‘Explain. Now.’ look, Hunter elaborated. “They would never hurt you for any reason otherwise. Sunstreaker’s grip on your arm would be painful initially, but leave no damage. And I did manage to knock him down.”
The frontline mech didn’t give a verbal answer to that, but shrugged one shoulder in a non-committal fashion before speaking.
“Well then. Bluestreak.” The mech started at the sound of his name. “Wha?”
The Lamborghini was quiet for a bit before speaking. “Sorry.”
Bluestreak stared at him, thrown by the fact that Sunstreaker was apologising, before he smiled and the golden mech subtly relaxed. “Already forgiven Sunny.”
“Alright! Enough mushy mushy. Game time, and I call dibs on Hunter and his tactical programming!” As the pair of Datsuns were pushed in the direction of the rec room by an eager red mech, both exchanged a look with each other, Hunter curious, and Bluestreak resigned.
Ironhide found them that way, Hunter and Bluestreak between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, all four packed like sardines on a couch in front of the vid screen. After a few snickers at Hunter’s expense when he was handed a controller and didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with it (“I’m guessing Prowl never touched one of these games if he could help it.”), and some helpful coaching from Bluestreak and some not-so-helpful comments from the peanut gallery, the quartet were having a pretty good time.
He stared, caught up in the sight of Bluestreak laughing again, Sideswipe looking playful once more, and Sunstreaker not constantly glowering or being impassive. Most striking was the grin on the face of an old comrade, and a laugh he’d not heard for a long, long time.
Then his processors caught up and he remembered that Prowl had never laughed quite so freely, had not really laughed at all except for the few times he’d caught the mech off guard before Sentinel passed, and even then his laughter was… hesitant, a quiet chuckle that was quickly hidden. The few other mechs in rec room were also transfixed by the sight, and Ironhide ruefully agreed with the sentiment.
“Hunter.” The mech paused and looked up from the game, as did Bluestreak and Sunstreaker, though Sideswipe took the opportunity to kill off both of their characters before doing the same.
“Sir?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I just got done calming Red down, something about you attacking a mech?”
“That was our fault. We were testing him.” Ironhide briefly shuttered optics in surprise. The twins rarely, if ever, admitted outright to anything. He then turned a considering look onto the black and white mech, who had immediately drawn on a closed, wary expression.
“Well, you’re still in one piece. Good for you. But Ratchet wants to take another look at you, and I’ve been roped into playing messenger and escort. So c’mon.” A short pause as he held up a hand to forestall any protests from Blustreak or the twins. “He’s not in any trouble. Red’s just being himself, and Hunter was due for another inspection anyway.”
The mech nodded and stood, bidding the three on the couch farewell before trailing Ironhide out of the room. Ironhide was silent as they walked to the Med Bay, until he broke the quiet by speaking.
“I taught Prowl, a long time ago. Mech was built for the role of Prime’s Second, for practical and security reasons, and I had to watch him until we were sure he’d chosen to be an Autobot before we let him near Sentinel Prime. The mech wouldn’t hear of programming in an allegiance, not that it was even considered for long. Still, we needed a bot for the position, and those that made it past the screening just weren’t quite good enough.” The black and white mech was silent, not that Ironhide had expected him to say anything. He continued.
“Prowl came online knowing everything about his job, and precious little about anything else. S’why I suppose he’s got all those emotional suppression programs running. He doesn’t know how to deal with them very well. He was learning though, ‘till things really went to the Pit. Then he started running them full time. Ratchet thinks it’s why his logic processors lock up as easily as they do, and why you haven’t crashed from locking up yet, since you don’t do the same. ‘Parently, suppressing the emotional circuits puts additional strain on the logic ones, because the emotional circuits handle stuff that isn’t cut and dried and logical.”
He directed a contemplative expression at Hunter. “In a way, I guess you’re how Prowl could have been as a youngling. Don’t give me that look. Skyfire’s sure you’re not an A.I., not anymore, at least. That’s mainly why Ratchet’s going to take another look at you now. Seems the scans Preceptor’s been taking look different every time.”
Hunter had been in the Med Bay for a long time. Bluestreak had gotten concerned and gone to check on him, but was asked to stay outside, and eventually had to be coaxed away from the doors to go refuel and get some recharge. Skyfire had gone to the rec room to grab some energon for the others, and was talking with Sunstreaker, who’d come over in a surprising departure from character, while the cubes filled, when Preceptor burst in crying out his name excitedly.
“Skyfire! You have to come see this! It’s astounding!”
“Perceptor, calm down! What is it?”
“Hunter’s programming no longer matches that of the base program in the data he gave us, in fact, if he didn’t say he’d started out that way, I wouldn’t be sure if it ever did! It’s evolving! Adapting! Learning! His programming is nearly equivalent to that of a Cybertronian in the youngling stages! He could be real! He actually could be real!”
A brief stunned pause, before the jet smiled. “’Cep’, that’s amazing!”
“Isn’t it just so! Please accompany me back, you have to observe this with your own optics!” The smaller mech was very nearly bouncing in his excitement. Catching hold of Skyfire’s hand, he practically dragged the jet out of the rec room, Sunstreaker faintly assuring him he’d run the cubes over when they were filled. Skyfire tried not to consider how else the golden mech’s words could be interpreted as he was pulled along by the microscope. Once out of audio range of the rec room, Perceptor let go and he raised an optic ridge.
“Perceptor, was that really necessary? We’d already figured that out when I left for energon.”
“This way the rest of the crew will find out that Hunter’s not just a program any more. Maybe they won’t shun him so much.” Perceptor glanced down at the floor. “It was the least I could do to make up for frightening him.”
The other scientist patted him gently on the shoulder. “I think he’s long forgiven you, ‘Cep’.”
“I need to forgive myself, ‘Fire.”
Sunstreaker was bored. He’d done as he said he would, and brought the energon to the Med Bay, but he also wanted to talk to Skyfire, continue the conversation they’d been having, and the jet was across the room, nattering away with the doc, the microscope and the walking disaster zone, also known as Wheeljack. In fact, the mech was in the Med Bay because of one such disaster, having come in to get patched up. As he cycled air impatiently, about to head out of the doors, he was diverted by Hunter addressing him.
“Sunstreaker.”
“Yeah?” The black and white mech shifted, looking unsettled, before speaking again.
“Am I hurting Bluestreak?”
Sunstreaker paused. “And you would ask me that, why?”
“You and your brother care for him, if I were having even the slightest negative effect, you’d pick up on it. And I trust you wouldn’t hesitate to tell me that I am.” There was silence as the frontliner considered this, and allowed that it was true, though he didn’t say so out loud. Still, the black and white mech knew he’d made his point.
“… In what way?”
“What you said in the corridor, before we played vid games. Does my presence harm more than it helps him? Does he see me as Prowl, and is just hoping I’ll come to my senses one day? ”
“… We were afraid of that.”
“I see.” Hunter's expression went blank again.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry. He played vid games with you, and I know even the thought of asking Prowl to do the same would short Blue’s logic and probability circuits. Pit, Bluestreak shoved me, and pulled a blaster on Sideswipe for you. He wouldn’t have done that for Prowl.”
“Mainly because you wouldn’t have said to your SIC what you did to him and me.”
“We’ve ragged on the mech plenty. Called him a glorified tactical abacus, a cold sparked glitch. I even tried to slug him once. Bluestreak, apart from protesting and being mildly to majorly upset with us, never quite descended into violence. He knows whatever we say can’t hurt Prowl, and that we respect him too much to really attack the mech. You, on the other hand, he defended with a fury because you’re not Prowl. He’s as protective of you as Prowl ever was of him. And you’re the same way.”
Hunter gave him a dubious look, unconvinced, and Sunstreaker’s next words were a little snappier.
“Look, it was a test for him as much as it was for you. If we thought you were in any way, shape or form bad for Blue, you’d fragging know it. What brought this on?”
“… He hesitates sometimes when he catches sight of me. Sometimes, he starts to call me by… another name.”
This gave the golden mech pause. While they’d noticed the first happening, the twins, by accident or design, had not spent much time near Bluestreak when he was with Hunter, and as such had not heard him call Hunter ‘Prowl’.
“I am hurting him, and the others close to Prowl, aren’t I. He sees me and thinks of Prowl, and he misses him and with me around he has something that looks like Prowl but isn’t. And it hurts him more. I don’t want to hurt him. Even if it is because Prowl doesn’t want to do so either, I don’t want to hurt Blue’.”
At the lost look on Hunter’s faceplates, Sunstreaker was abruptly reminded of his conversation with Skyfire, back in the rec room, and the opinion of the scientist that the personality inhabiting Prowl’s chassis was truly, very young indeed.
“You’re helping him too.” He fiddled with a piece of scrap metal picked up from somewhere to avoid the disconcerting sight of what looked like Prowl not knowing what to do.
“… After, he wouldn’t accept an invite to play vid games. He didn’t talk as much, he still doesn’t talk as much as he did before, but Primus, this is an improvement. His quarters are near ours, and Blue’s always had trouble recharging. Got worse… after. Interrupted recharge cycles and everything. Then you came along and he’s still not all whole, but he’s doing better.”
“… I... Thank you.” Then Skyfire called Hunter over for more poking and prodding and Sunstreaker was left on his own once more.
Primus, he was bored.
Ironhide returned to the Med Bay, pausing just a short while on the odd sight of Sunstreaker talking to Skyfire. Perceptor seemed captivated by the screen of the console where strings of data scrolled across, as was Wheeljack, and Ratchet was putting away the equipment they’d just used on Hunter.
“Well, let’s leave the eggheads to do their thing. Hunter, come with me to the training rooms. I wanna see what the ‘Cons taught you.”
“Sir?” His reply to the clearly bewildered mech was overridden by that of the clearly annoyed medic, brandishing a wrench.
“Oh no you don’t. May I remind you that Red Alert’s insisted on neutralising all of this mech’s internal weaponry? Including the blades you seem so unhealthily fascinated with? Against you, Hunter’s about as lethal as a kitten. He’d be scrap on the floor in minutes.”
“So reactivate them.”
The CMO’s only response was a glower, and Ironhide spread his hands in a wheedling fashion.
“Look, I should find out if the ‘Cons have taught him, and by association, Prowl, any new tricks, and this is a good opportunity. Just the blades and the claws. I already know what Prowl can do with his missiles.”
“That’s the most fragging flimsy excuse I’ve ever heard, and the twins come here on a regular basis.”
“But you also can’t deny it’s true.” He was pushing his luck, but Ironhide had always been a bit of a coolant junkie. Ratchet growled in response.
“No, I can’t. Which only ticks me off even more. So quit it and let me work in peace before I kick you out with your vocaliser deactivated and a wrench embedded in your behind.”
“Love you too Ratch’.” He ducked, grinning, and the medic snarled again, only for both to stop when they heard a muffled laugh from Hunter, who immediately stopped as well when they looked at him, shuffling uncertainly.
Calmly, Ratchet moved towards the mech to do as asked, dealing a threatening look at Ironhide as he did so. “I’d better not have to make any repairs once you’re done.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be careful with him.”
“Who says I’m worried about Hunter?”
“You do care!”
The sound of wrench striking helm was overlaid by Ironhide’s snickering as the pair exited the Bay for the training rooms.
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Date: 2009-03-15 06:00 am (UTC)