Hunter Green (Part 9)
Oct. 31st, 2008 12:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceYou might want a tissue for this one. *offers Kleenex*
Title: Hunter Green (Part 9)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before.
He was in his quarters.
There was a bookfile in his hands, a favourite of his that, by the looks of it he’d been rereading.
That… was not logical.
He’d not been home for a while.
He couldn’t be home.
He was so tired.
He had to figure out what was happening.
Fighting the urge to shutter his optics, he lost and everything went dark again.
Hunter started, dropping the bookfile he’d found so enthralling. Confused, he stared at the object for a while, then got up to put it away. If he was falling into recharge midway through the text, he must really need it. Perhaps this time, he wouldn’t wake up mid recharge cycle.
========================================
Red Alert was not a happy mech.
The intruder in Prowl’s chassis had been given the all clear to move through the Ark, without an escort. Inwardly, he seethed at the lack of caution exhibited by High Command, but there was little he could do, having been outvoted on the issue by everyone else. At least they still left the tracker on the mech, and here he grimaced at calling Hunter such, but had to admit the A.I. could no longer be considered an ‘it’, or an A.I. at all, and his weapons, comm. and transformation cog were still, or once more disabled.
It still felt wrong, and when he spotted the black and white figure of their once SIC approaching, arms full of datapads (and here he had to tamp down on the impulse to snatch them out of the trespasser’s grasp), he growled and stomped off in the opposite direction, taking another route to his screen filled sanctuary. Inferno, who had been walking with him to the monitor room, just shook his head as the security mech left and Hunter drew close, doorwings drooping apologetically.
“Ah. Don’t let Red get you down. He just misses Prowl, that’s all.”
Optics shuttered quickly in surprise, and the fire truck smiled.
“Our SIC was one of the few who didn’t make fun of Red’s… dedication, or his security measures, even when he went overboard on them. Mech understood that keeping us safe was important to Red, and Red knew that the same was true for Prowl, so if Prowl vetoed one of his suggestions, he’d take it with good grace, and he knew that every word of his reports would be read by Prowl. Now however…” Inferno cycled air resignedly and rubbed a hand over his helm.
With a wry smile, Hunter turned over the top datapad in the stack he carried so that the other mech could see its contents, a security report from Red Alert himself.
“Ironhide’s palmed off some of his work onto me, since Bluestreak’s starting patrols again. I’ll read every word too, but perhaps it’s best we don’t tell Red Alert that.”
Inferno had to laugh.
========================================
They paused at the threshold of the rec room, surprised by the sight before them. A black and white mech with a pile of datapads was at one of the tables, diligently working away on them. While the combination of datapads, this particular black and white figure and diligently working were not unusual, at least… before, the location all three were in was. Curious, they approached him.
“Hey Hunter.”
“Bumblebee, Windcharger. Good day.” The other mech was polite, and his voice was warm and friendly. Eyeing the stack of pads beside him, Bumblebee asked.
“What are you doing?”
They received an amused look, and an ‘isn’t it obvious’ gesture towards the pile. “Paperwork.”
Windcharger gaped. “Red Alert let you do paperwork?”
Hunter laughed softly and turned back to the file in front of him. “More like Ironhide hates the security and incident reports, especially those generated by Red Alert. I think it amuses him to have me work on them when your security director still gets worked up over my existence.”
“Ah.” Both minibots said in chorus, and there was a peaceful silence as Hunter worked on and the pair watched him.
“Y’know, looking at you, it’s almost like having Prowl back.” Windcharger murmured, heedless to Bumblebee’s elbow to his side.
“I can understand why.” Hunter did not seem to take offence, or if he did he didn’t show it.
“You’re even doing his work now.” The yellow mech gave up and wondered how much trouble he’d get into for welding his friend’s mouthplates shut.
“… Temporarily. I’m not trying to take his place.”
The wary reply seemed to snap Windcharger out of it (whatever ‘it’ had been) and he was quick to correct the assumption. “I didn’t mean that! Really.”
“I apologise for jumping to conclusions.”
“S’alright.”
Another lull, as datapads were read and written on and watched.
“We tried to rescue him.” Bumblebee murmured lowly.
Hunter turned his optics onto the pair again, but neither was looking back.
“We failed, obviously. Megatron’s wanted Prowl on his side ever since the war started. And Prowl always flat out refused, even when offered the post of Second.”
“It’s not much of an incentive if you ask me. How many times has Starscream been slagged by Megs? Pit, the ‘Cons get slagged by Megs almost as often as they get slagged by us. At least with us they get to slag back.” Windcharger huffed.
“I’m glad he’s such an aft. Imagine if he had gotten Prowl on his side.”
“I like being able to recharge at night ‘Bee.”
“Ha. Anyway. After Prowl got taken, we went after him. Megatron wasn’t taking any chances now that he had Prowl, and we barely got a mile within sight of their base when we got swarmed with every ‘Con able to hold a blaster and shoot it.”
“We tried, Primus, we tried so many times Ratchet ran out of spare parts and materials within the first month and Optimus had to order us to stop for a while. Casualty rates were too high, and the last attempt nearly lost us the twins, Cliffjumper and Brawn for good. Brawn’s still limping around and Cliffjumper’s still got the weld scars. Then the Grand High Fragger Megatron contacted us with offers for Prowl’s release, impossible demands that Optimus couldn’t agree to, just to taunt us.”
“Then Mirage snuck in, and what he told us when he got back…”
“Some of us took it out on him, me included.” Windcharger’s optics were now focused with a laser-like intensity on the ground. Bumblebee patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.
“You did apologise to him after you’d cooled down, I’m sure he understands.”
“So, guess what we’re trying to say is that we’re grateful you brought Prowl back to us. He’s a hard-aft, but we know it’s ‘cos he wants us in the land of the functioning, and we do appreciate him, no matter how much some of us grouse about his manner. And thanks to you, we can tell him that in person.”
“And we’re sorry for avoiding you all this time.”
“It’s quite alright. I know this situation is hard on everyone.”
========================================
Bumblebee and Windcharger had just left for their duties, passing him in the corridor outside the rec room when he entered. Like them, he paused at the sight of a black and white mech working in the rec room, then sat down near the mech.
“Hey, Hunter.”
“Cliffjumper. How are you?” He was greeted with a cordial smile and a nod.
“Good, thanks.”
“Can I help you?”
“Nah, it’s alright. Just let me stay here for a bit, ‘kay?” This prompted a querying glance, before the mech shrugged and went back to work.
“As you wish.”
For a while the only sound in the rec room was of their systems running and the soft tap and scrape of a styler on the datapads. Cliffjumper looked lost in thought, occasionally rubbing a hand over weld marks still a little achy and faintly visible on his armour.
Hunter was definitely lost in the report he was going through. Whoever wrote it had horrible grammar, to the point where he suspected it was intentional. He’d been about to ask the mech across him if he could make out what a sentence meant when Cliffjumper spoke.
“Y’know, a lotta mechs on the Ark think Prowl’s cold sparked. For a good long while I thought so too. Frag, I know he’s heard us go on about it. First time I met him was when I was picked for this expedition, and I thought, he’s our SIC on this? Primus, he’d let me die if it won the war.”
Hunter put down the datapad, and Cliffjumper shifted, not noticing and somewhat uncomfortable with his next words.
“Not that I wouldn’t have, of course, but I thought he wouldn’t care if I did. Mech had a reputation.” Another pause.
“I changed my mind. We had a bad run in with the ‘Cons, landed a lot of us in the Med Bay. The Ark was on the night shift, so most everyone was in recharge, ‘cept I was hurting too bad to do the same. Not real bad, Ratch’ wouldn’t really leave us in pain, though he threatens it a lot. Just… a bit uncomfortable. The Doc was finally resting, and I didn’t want to sound like a whiner. Prowl came in, and I think he didn’t realise I was still online. He walked through the room and I swear, his expression…”
The red minibot fell silent, and was glad Hunter didn’t press, though the mech looked curious. Cliffjumper cycled air out slowly.
“Then he left. And the next day he was the same old impassive Prowl. Giving orders and making sure duties were carried out like half of us weren’t scrapped to slag in the Med Bay. I know a few of the others resented him for that, even as they understood life had to go on. But the next night, he came back. Every night I was in the Med Bay I saw him. And every time after when I had to stay there overnight ‘cos of some battle injury, I stayed awake ‘till I saw him. And he always came.”
His optics shuttered then, and he leant backwards in his seat, seeming to stare at the ceiling.
“And when… All I could think of was I never said anything to him in thanks. Never told the others what he did, so they could see as well. In any case, thanks for listening. Can I stay a bit longer? I… He… things hurt less.”
“… Of course.”
On the other side of the Rec room, a golden mech frowned and considered his next move.
========================================
“Oh, you’re done with them already?”
“Yes ‘Hide.”
“Just put them over there.”
The stack of datapads was placed on the side of his desk, and as he’d guessed Hunter would, the other datapads, ones he’d not yet gone through, were quickly sorted and arranged as well. Ironhide looked up to thank the mech and stopped short.
“Hunter. Why are you green?”
The mech replied, faceplates straight and completely guileless, though the effect was partially ruined by the amusement at Ironhide’s surprise evident in his tone. “Because Sunstreaker wanted to paint me yellow, Tracks wanted to paint me blue, and Sideswipe wanted to paint me like Bluestreak. Hoist mixed the colours together to shut them up.”
“… Oh.”
“Sideswipe was particularly disappointed. Particularly so when he realised they’d not gotten any pictures of ‘Prowl’ doing ‘unProwl-like things’.” Ironhide succumbed to a brief bark of laughter.
“Sounds like him alright.”
Title: Hunter Green (Part 9)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Same as before.
He was in his quarters.
There was a bookfile in his hands, a favourite of his that, by the looks of it he’d been rereading.
That… was not logical.
He’d not been home for a while.
He couldn’t be home.
He was so tired.
He had to figure out what was happening.
Fighting the urge to shutter his optics, he lost and everything went dark again.
Hunter started, dropping the bookfile he’d found so enthralling. Confused, he stared at the object for a while, then got up to put it away. If he was falling into recharge midway through the text, he must really need it. Perhaps this time, he wouldn’t wake up mid recharge cycle.
Red Alert was not a happy mech.
The intruder in Prowl’s chassis had been given the all clear to move through the Ark, without an escort. Inwardly, he seethed at the lack of caution exhibited by High Command, but there was little he could do, having been outvoted on the issue by everyone else. At least they still left the tracker on the mech, and here he grimaced at calling Hunter such, but had to admit the A.I. could no longer be considered an ‘it’, or an A.I. at all, and his weapons, comm. and transformation cog were still, or once more disabled.
It still felt wrong, and when he spotted the black and white figure of their once SIC approaching, arms full of datapads (and here he had to tamp down on the impulse to snatch them out of the trespasser’s grasp), he growled and stomped off in the opposite direction, taking another route to his screen filled sanctuary. Inferno, who had been walking with him to the monitor room, just shook his head as the security mech left and Hunter drew close, doorwings drooping apologetically.
“Ah. Don’t let Red get you down. He just misses Prowl, that’s all.”
Optics shuttered quickly in surprise, and the fire truck smiled.
“Our SIC was one of the few who didn’t make fun of Red’s… dedication, or his security measures, even when he went overboard on them. Mech understood that keeping us safe was important to Red, and Red knew that the same was true for Prowl, so if Prowl vetoed one of his suggestions, he’d take it with good grace, and he knew that every word of his reports would be read by Prowl. Now however…” Inferno cycled air resignedly and rubbed a hand over his helm.
With a wry smile, Hunter turned over the top datapad in the stack he carried so that the other mech could see its contents, a security report from Red Alert himself.
“Ironhide’s palmed off some of his work onto me, since Bluestreak’s starting patrols again. I’ll read every word too, but perhaps it’s best we don’t tell Red Alert that.”
Inferno had to laugh.
They paused at the threshold of the rec room, surprised by the sight before them. A black and white mech with a pile of datapads was at one of the tables, diligently working away on them. While the combination of datapads, this particular black and white figure and diligently working were not unusual, at least… before, the location all three were in was. Curious, they approached him.
“Hey Hunter.”
“Bumblebee, Windcharger. Good day.” The other mech was polite, and his voice was warm and friendly. Eyeing the stack of pads beside him, Bumblebee asked.
“What are you doing?”
They received an amused look, and an ‘isn’t it obvious’ gesture towards the pile. “Paperwork.”
Windcharger gaped. “Red Alert let you do paperwork?”
Hunter laughed softly and turned back to the file in front of him. “More like Ironhide hates the security and incident reports, especially those generated by Red Alert. I think it amuses him to have me work on them when your security director still gets worked up over my existence.”
“Ah.” Both minibots said in chorus, and there was a peaceful silence as Hunter worked on and the pair watched him.
“Y’know, looking at you, it’s almost like having Prowl back.” Windcharger murmured, heedless to Bumblebee’s elbow to his side.
“I can understand why.” Hunter did not seem to take offence, or if he did he didn’t show it.
“You’re even doing his work now.” The yellow mech gave up and wondered how much trouble he’d get into for welding his friend’s mouthplates shut.
“… Temporarily. I’m not trying to take his place.”
The wary reply seemed to snap Windcharger out of it (whatever ‘it’ had been) and he was quick to correct the assumption. “I didn’t mean that! Really.”
“I apologise for jumping to conclusions.”
“S’alright.”
Another lull, as datapads were read and written on and watched.
“We tried to rescue him.” Bumblebee murmured lowly.
Hunter turned his optics onto the pair again, but neither was looking back.
“We failed, obviously. Megatron’s wanted Prowl on his side ever since the war started. And Prowl always flat out refused, even when offered the post of Second.”
“It’s not much of an incentive if you ask me. How many times has Starscream been slagged by Megs? Pit, the ‘Cons get slagged by Megs almost as often as they get slagged by us. At least with us they get to slag back.” Windcharger huffed.
“I’m glad he’s such an aft. Imagine if he had gotten Prowl on his side.”
“I like being able to recharge at night ‘Bee.”
“Ha. Anyway. After Prowl got taken, we went after him. Megatron wasn’t taking any chances now that he had Prowl, and we barely got a mile within sight of their base when we got swarmed with every ‘Con able to hold a blaster and shoot it.”
“We tried, Primus, we tried so many times Ratchet ran out of spare parts and materials within the first month and Optimus had to order us to stop for a while. Casualty rates were too high, and the last attempt nearly lost us the twins, Cliffjumper and Brawn for good. Brawn’s still limping around and Cliffjumper’s still got the weld scars. Then the Grand High Fragger Megatron contacted us with offers for Prowl’s release, impossible demands that Optimus couldn’t agree to, just to taunt us.”
“Then Mirage snuck in, and what he told us when he got back…”
“Some of us took it out on him, me included.” Windcharger’s optics were now focused with a laser-like intensity on the ground. Bumblebee patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.
“You did apologise to him after you’d cooled down, I’m sure he understands.”
“So, guess what we’re trying to say is that we’re grateful you brought Prowl back to us. He’s a hard-aft, but we know it’s ‘cos he wants us in the land of the functioning, and we do appreciate him, no matter how much some of us grouse about his manner. And thanks to you, we can tell him that in person.”
“And we’re sorry for avoiding you all this time.”
“It’s quite alright. I know this situation is hard on everyone.”
Bumblebee and Windcharger had just left for their duties, passing him in the corridor outside the rec room when he entered. Like them, he paused at the sight of a black and white mech working in the rec room, then sat down near the mech.
“Hey, Hunter.”
“Cliffjumper. How are you?” He was greeted with a cordial smile and a nod.
“Good, thanks.”
“Can I help you?”
“Nah, it’s alright. Just let me stay here for a bit, ‘kay?” This prompted a querying glance, before the mech shrugged and went back to work.
“As you wish.”
For a while the only sound in the rec room was of their systems running and the soft tap and scrape of a styler on the datapads. Cliffjumper looked lost in thought, occasionally rubbing a hand over weld marks still a little achy and faintly visible on his armour.
Hunter was definitely lost in the report he was going through. Whoever wrote it had horrible grammar, to the point where he suspected it was intentional. He’d been about to ask the mech across him if he could make out what a sentence meant when Cliffjumper spoke.
“Y’know, a lotta mechs on the Ark think Prowl’s cold sparked. For a good long while I thought so too. Frag, I know he’s heard us go on about it. First time I met him was when I was picked for this expedition, and I thought, he’s our SIC on this? Primus, he’d let me die if it won the war.”
Hunter put down the datapad, and Cliffjumper shifted, not noticing and somewhat uncomfortable with his next words.
“Not that I wouldn’t have, of course, but I thought he wouldn’t care if I did. Mech had a reputation.” Another pause.
“I changed my mind. We had a bad run in with the ‘Cons, landed a lot of us in the Med Bay. The Ark was on the night shift, so most everyone was in recharge, ‘cept I was hurting too bad to do the same. Not real bad, Ratch’ wouldn’t really leave us in pain, though he threatens it a lot. Just… a bit uncomfortable. The Doc was finally resting, and I didn’t want to sound like a whiner. Prowl came in, and I think he didn’t realise I was still online. He walked through the room and I swear, his expression…”
The red minibot fell silent, and was glad Hunter didn’t press, though the mech looked curious. Cliffjumper cycled air out slowly.
“Then he left. And the next day he was the same old impassive Prowl. Giving orders and making sure duties were carried out like half of us weren’t scrapped to slag in the Med Bay. I know a few of the others resented him for that, even as they understood life had to go on. But the next night, he came back. Every night I was in the Med Bay I saw him. And every time after when I had to stay there overnight ‘cos of some battle injury, I stayed awake ‘till I saw him. And he always came.”
His optics shuttered then, and he leant backwards in his seat, seeming to stare at the ceiling.
“And when… All I could think of was I never said anything to him in thanks. Never told the others what he did, so they could see as well. In any case, thanks for listening. Can I stay a bit longer? I… He… things hurt less.”
“… Of course.”
On the other side of the Rec room, a golden mech frowned and considered his next move.
“Oh, you’re done with them already?”
“Yes ‘Hide.”
“Just put them over there.”
The stack of datapads was placed on the side of his desk, and as he’d guessed Hunter would, the other datapads, ones he’d not yet gone through, were quickly sorted and arranged as well. Ironhide looked up to thank the mech and stopped short.
“Hunter. Why are you green?”
The mech replied, faceplates straight and completely guileless, though the effect was partially ruined by the amusement at Ironhide’s surprise evident in his tone. “Because Sunstreaker wanted to paint me yellow, Tracks wanted to paint me blue, and Sideswipe wanted to paint me like Bluestreak. Hoist mixed the colours together to shut them up.”
“… Oh.”
“Sideswipe was particularly disappointed. Particularly so when he realised they’d not gotten any pictures of ‘Prowl’ doing ‘unProwl-like things’.” Ironhide succumbed to a brief bark of laughter.
“Sounds like him alright.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 02:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 02:53 pm (UTC)Glad you like it though :3
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 02:56 pm (UTC)and i really do like it.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 03:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 03:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 02:48 pm (UTC)And the painting? lol
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 02:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 03:57 pm (UTC)And like others have already said, the introspection of the minibots was touching, rather bittersweet. Poor Hunter's playing therapist/sounding board. But at least with the new paint he's not reminding everyone so strongly of Prowl.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 04:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 04:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 05:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-30 11:29 pm (UTC)Loved Hunter's interaction with Inferno and Cliffjumper's insecurity.
Wooo Green Hunter!! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 04:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 12:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 04:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 04:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-31 05:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-05 04:39 am (UTC)Aww, Cliffjumper, you're not as gruff and uncaring as you pretend to be, are you?
I really loved so many bits of this chapter, including the last lines...the idea of everyone wanting to paint Hunter has me laughing!