#jazz mentioned

[super-silly-star]

This lwk took so long1🥀

[madcoincidence]

Next >

The Bioengineer's

Cybertronian Knight

1

Ratchet's younger life was a pretty normal one with only a few small ups and downs. Before all the chaos with the Quintessons, he had been the youngest to finish top of his classes and receive his Bioengineering PhD. He was strongly encouraged to further his education and thanks to his roommate at the time, it wasn't long before he returned to do just that. He had almost lost the dumbass when their apartment's designated research room exploded.

He never wanted to relive that feeling of helplessness he had while cradling Jackie's bloody shrapnel dusted face in his lap. Only able to wait for help while trying to keep pressure on the gushing wound from Jackie's thigh, it was a real bad time. After that he worked hard to earn the next step up from Bioengineering. He gained a Biomedical Engineering PhD while soaking up the training needed to do field triage. By the time he had finished everything, Jackie had fully recovered and finished building a much larger lab for them as an apology to Ratchet for destroying all their belongings.

"Level four. Bleeding has stopped and a safe neural link disconnection from the mecha is done. Give him oxygen and keep track of how long it takes for him to regain consciousness." Ratchet motions for his team to move in and lift the pilot out to their transport. Ratchet doesn't leave with them, stabilizing and disconnecting the pilot from the mecha suit was just step one of twenty-seven. His focus now shifts to shutting down the Mecha to stop the over heated frame and sparking wires from causing an explosion. While he works his multitasking brain shifts back to thinking over his life choices, ranting and banter has always helped steady his hands.

Jackie was a hazard to limbs but still not the worst to be around. No, that could go to Roddy and his meddling. The menace has tried setting him up with many blind dates. Thanks to him there was one blind date that few know of and wouldn't dare bring up if they value their vocal cords. The ones who do know of it have started calling it ‘the one night-’

Ratchet clicks his tongue with a heavy sigh as electricity and hot sparks fly and pop all around him. It laps against his gloved hands and hits his visor with snapping sizzles. Just as good ol’ Jackie promised, the suit is able to withstand whatever a seriously damaged Mecha can dish out. Unless it's an explosive level of damage, the suit can absorb or dispel the electrical current and heat. Ratchet wrangles a handful of the sparking stripped wires that are swaying above his head as he swipes through the smoking control panel. He smashes in all override codes, allowing the suit to start the shutdown protocols. He drifts back to mentally ranting while the metal frame around him pings and creaks.

Nah, compared to both Jackie and Roddy, Jazz and his mecha suit have to be the biggest migraine starter pack. That maniac tests Ratchet's skills almost daily, on and off the field. How many times has he saved Jazz's life? Too many times. Jazz is a devil of chaos in that mecha suit, always doing down right suicidal stunts anytime an opportunity strikes. Ratchet has personally worked with Jackie on Jazz's mecha to make sure the kid wouldn't end up frying himself or slip further into insanity. Still with all the care put into that mecha, Jazz's sanity is still debatable.

Yeah… keeping everyone sane and healthy is something that feeds into Ratchet's sleepless nights. He knows better than to think he can save everyone, he was never that naive. Still the harsh reality of how fragile life is hit hard and fast at the beginning of the Quintesson war. Those memories are buried deep down with the first prototypes of mecha suites. Despite everything, Ratchet still refuses to give up on anyone, he'll do everything in his power to save someone in his care. The small moments during down time, when he catches people smiling, singing, and laughing with friends thought lost to this war, helps make the nightmares just a bit easier to endure.

Ratchet stands up and swipes broken glass off his knees before grabbing the strap to his satchel. With the Mecha safely disabled Ratchet shrugs the strap over a shoulder and starts climbing out of the cockpit to start scanning the area for any more downed pilots. Being in the mecha had muffled the ear splitting screeches and roars of battle. Outside the mecha, everything echoed and rumbled through the hills and gullies, shaking the ground and trees. The trees where the bulk of the fight is happening have caught fire, turning the sky a hazy gray with a reddish orange hue. The fight has fallen closer to city limits but still hasn't reached the level of what the commanders would call a, ‘panic level threat’ to allow evacuation efforts. That, like many things, is not something Ratchet agrees with.

From his position on the Mecha's chest, Ratchet narrows his eyes to try and see through the smoke better. He spots specks of red light flickering from a gully to his left. It's close enough to him and his team that he can make out a mecha shaped form at the bottom, “Aid! Fix! With me! Everyone else, start hooking this up to the transport!” Ratchet yells above the noise while he climbs down the Mecha and hops off to the ground when close enough. Satisfied that his team immediately starts moving as soon as he gives orders, Ratchet starts jogging with Aid and Fix right behind him. “We need to move fast. I spotted a downed Mecha past that hill. Don't know how long it's been there. Since we haven't seen any mecha close to us while working, I am going to assume it's been a while.” Ratchet grips the strap to his satchel as he picks up the pace. The lights he saw means the mecha is still functional but no movement tells him the pilot is injured or worse.

- - - - - - - - -

While they catch their breath, Ratchet scans the gully to find the best way down, “Ratchet, sir... this is a really steep climb down. Let's find another way. Trying would be way too risky.” Fix rasps out as he wipes his forehead with his sleeve. Aid makes a wheezing noise while hunched over, hands on his knees. The smoke and soot is not doing their lungs any favors. 

“This thing stretches for miles. Quickest way is to climb down. Don't like it, stay up here.” Ratchet coughs to clear his throat as he squats down to look over the edge. At the bottom of the gully, laying on its side in murky pink tinted water is the damaged mecha. The lights he had spotted from before are coming from what seems to have been a space ship. From what Ratchet can see of the remains, it doesn't resemble a Quintesson transport vessel. Hard to say though since it's scattered everywhere. Some of the shredded debris is embedded into the walls of the gully. Larger pieces are scattered all around the mecha. Ratchet swings his legs over the edge and start climbing down. He ignores Fix's pleas and calls up to Aid, “Call for the mecha transporter. If it's stable enough to be moved, it might be safer to keep the pilot inside the cockpit.”  The two wheeze and mumble above him but he catches the click and static screech of a field radio turning on.

 As Ratchet climbs down he glances over his shoulder every now and then trying to see what he's working with. He notices a lot of damage to the plating on the mecha's arms, chest, and back. Possible damage to the cockpit has Ratchet taking the risk of using less sturdier holds for his hands and feet. Ratchet notes that the weird pink color in the water is coming from the deep gashes and holes littering the mecha's frame. The larger pieces of debris that Ratchet thought were from the ship turns out to be chunks of Quintessons. Ratchet exhales, steadying his nerves as he continues the climb down. When he deems it close enough, he clears the rest of the way by sliding down into the water with a splash. Thankfully it's only knee deep.

After fixing his strap and giving a dry cough, Ratchet pulls out his infamous wrench from the satchel and takes a step forward. The muddy bottom sucks his boots back down with every step forward, “Kid better be alive.” Ratchet mutters to himself, not wasting any more time he works his way towards the mecha. His breath catches when he sees how detailed the mecha's face is. Its lips are pulled into a tight thin-lined frown and the eyebrows are pinched together, creasing the area between its closed eyes. Like it can feel the wounds while unconscious, so expressive…. Ratchet shakes off that trail of thought before it can get started, “Pilots skipping face shields and visors for their mecha's now? Is this where the money is being wasted? Mecha used for commercials and toys shouldn't be out on the field. Wait till I get you out kid. If all of this was a stupid publicity stunt, you'll wish the Quintessons finished you off.”

He tightens his hold on the wrench as he makes it to the chest plates. His heart is pounding just a little faster but he continues to ignore all the red flags saying something is off about this mecha. If there's a chance there's someone in there, then he needs to try to save them. Besides, he has that gut feeling that he's needed here and that gut feeling has never failed him yet, “hot… but not a, going to blow up right now, kind of hot.” Ratchet mumbles as he slowly, barely, ghosts his gloved fingers tips over where the cockpits emergency release panel should be, “Not helpful kid. How am I supposed to get to you if I can't find the medical override..” He swears he saw a clawed finger twitch inside his peripheral vision. The weird muffled whirling noise coming from its chest picks up.

“Ratchet move!!” Aid and Fix scream out from above. Ratchet turns his head towards them then to the heavy thwumps and splashes from behind the mecha's frame. Ratchet curses and waves a hand for them to back away from the ledge and stay down. He grips the wrench in both hands and presses his back into the Mecha's chest plating. Very familiar blood chilling, high pitched chitters, and low hisses surround him. Tentacles slide around and on the mecha, moving past the frame closer to Ratchet. He doesn't dare breathe as one comes extremely close to brushing against his leg.

Many things happen in the next few minutes. The sound of shifting plates and a whirr chur noise comes from behind him. He ends up falling back into the water as the surface he was pressed against moves away way too fast to follow. Ratchet's cool blue eyes dart up to catch sight of a Quintesson with a mecha sized gun down its throat. He's barely able to register that before being drenched in muddy water and Quintessons blood as it rains down on him. He scrambles to clear his visor as chunks of the alien continues to hit the water. 

When he can see again he looks to his sides then up. The mecha is crouched above him, one knee had been very close to squishing him. The mecha tosses the gun to the side and this time that knee blocks Ratchet from the splash. Water with the weird pink liquid drizzles off the mecha as it grabs another Quintesson by the tentacles and yanks it towards them. Ratchet scoots back and stumbles to his feet as the mecha doesn't hesitate to sink it's claws into the Quintesson's head and lower jaw.

With a stomach flipping roar, the towering being above him rips off the Quintesson's jaw and toss it aside like the gun. The rest of the body is droped carelessly in front of them. Ratchet yells out as this time, once again, he's soaked. His suit is well past being comfortable anymore. Burning red eyes land on Ratchet for a split second before growing staticy, the mechanical being gives a sharp wince. The red static quickly becomes a solid but dimmer red as the mecha turns its upper torso to focus on the next charging Quintesson.

- - - - - - - - -

Ratchet definitely can't ignore the ‘this is not a mecha’ warnings anymore. Weird destroyed spaceship, red flag. Weird pink fluid leaking from the mecha, definitely not oil or lubricant, red flag. Mecha vocalizing through a moving mouth and showing hints of pain, big red flag. The moment the Quintessons are dealt with the 'not piloted by a human but very much mecha looking' being falls back onto their side. When the shaking from the large being's fall settles Ratchet had finished processing everything.

Right now to Ratchet, the only thing that matters is they're hurt and Ratchet may be able to help them. Ratchet trudges through the water towards the mechanical being as they give a static filled rumble, “Hush, you did enough. Thank you.” Ratchet places his palm on their cheek and rubs the warm metal trying to sooth them. He doubts it's really doing anything but he wants to sound and be as calm and sincere as he can.

He watches as the eye watching him darts to the edge of the gully where his teammates are yelling at him to be careful, “It's ok kid we're getting you out of here. Focus on me. Just me." The rumbles trickle away as the intense red glow shrinks back onto Ratchet. It flickers a few more times, then slowly dims till it's completely off. A lid slides over the eye closing with a soft click, “I've got you.” Ratchet promises switching the pets to a pat. With a shaky exhale, he starts planning out how he can fit this metal being into his quarters back on base. Jackie would be happy help him rearrange his sitting area.

*** *** ***

Next >

Sooooo, I realized I didn't start with how Ratchet and Deadlock meet in the TF Mecha Universe. I just hopped straight into the mushy stuff.

@keferon 's TF Mecha Universe has given me a spark of creativity again. So thank you Keferon for starting this chaos! It's beautiful. I am looking forward to writing this fanfic, it's quickly stolen all of my attention. I have a lot planned out and written up already, just sitting in my drafts . (even if it's taking forever for me to edit 😅) Anyways, I hope this was an enjoyable read!

Keferon has been overflowing with tons of wonderful asks, so I though I could make it a bit easier on them by figuring out how to post this fanfic here. Chapter Two: Finally doing last time Edits

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

( @quibble-auk Yeah this was wip.

I have nothing to say about it, I had to rewrite half of it because the vibes shifted. Then they shifted again and Im tired. As you would put it, Im tapping out. The pencil is done. I spent too much time grinding this out.)

(hah jokes on you! I reread this and I like it, I always say if you hate it your done, I think I was most definitely done. Hehehe yeah Jazzy is causing problems and Blue has the worst type of paranoia when it comes to that man.)

Anyway.

Custody Au

-

They had been tucked together, Cometeater on one side of Dropmix and Jeopardy on the other. That's the way it usually was, them sleeping close when a day was especially long, or when Comet got home.

Said pretender was still exhausted from his work, face ashen and tired. He had been sleeping quite a bit, trying to ease the pain of his limbs, Jeopardy when he could, would join him. They were lucky enough to be joined by their mentor after dozing for about an hour. The midnight mech huffing about invaders when he came in to see the two of them wrapped up and in his bed of all places.

Neither pointed out that he was smirking, or how he moved so he was firmly in the middle and could have either teenager at his side. That he gripped them tightly and pressed his face into their helms in a more gentle hello. He held Comet especially close it seemed.

The green mech was so small in comparison to the two medics, he could be firmly between them if he so wished and they could still be holding each other. Dropmix however claimed the prime spot as his own, both teenagers grumbling as he shoved them. “It's my bed, move over.”

Cometeater slept with his helm on Dropmix’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his spark. Jeopardy was snuggled into the ex-gladiator’s shoulder, one of the larger mech’s arms draped over him. Their hands were clasped together as they slept, Dropmix’s other free hand pressed against Comet’s back.

Keeping both of his boys close to his spark as they drifted off once more.

It felt like for a few hours the world was calm, that all three of them were safe and sound.

Then the damn communicator blinked.

On a table on the side of Dropmix’s bed was a communicator the size of Comet’s thumb, both of the medics despised the piece of technology.

It was only used when Comet was summoned for his work or Jazz needed to speak with him.

Dropmix was usually annoyed by the device, but it especially rankled his sleepy hide as it blipped hastily on his side table. Because Comet had just returned, a week ago, at most.

The dark mech stiffened and glared at the offending technology, the green flashes lighting up the dark room. He tightened his hold on his pretender and bared his blunt teeth. Annoyance and protectiveness made a bitter cocktail in his veins as he willed the bit of wiring to combust. Maybe blowing up the mech sending the message with it.

He would like to see Jazz explode, the suave mech caused the young organic curled against Dropmix too much trouble.

Said organic grunted softly, opening one of his eyes and sighing. Dropmix growled darkly, if his arms were free he would have crushed the cause of the disturbance ten times already. The hum of the music and the warm frames, the only thing keeping him from doing so.

“Go back to sleep, Ino.” The gladiator murmured, tucking the much smaller mech closer to him. Running his thumb softly down the younger’s spine Dropmix watched Comet fight sleep. A dark growl fought to escape Dropmix’s throat as the boy huffed, blinked blearily. “I can’t Drop, you know that..” 

The ex gladiator only hugged him tighter, Jeopardy now also awake and groaning at the sight of the green light. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“You just got back.” Jeopardy grunted now openly frowning at the overzealous keychain.

Cometeater huffed again trying to escape the grasp of his captor who had him beat in both power and size. But Comet had something they both had in large equal doses.

Sheer stubbornness.

“Yes and- Dammit Drop lemme go!” He growled and received a far deeper snarl in response. “Dropmix I gotta look at it,” Another growl, he had seemingly decided no words matched the disgust he had for the incessant green light.”I-I’ll lay back down I swear.” Comet chirps softly wiggling so his helm could nuzzle under the larger’s chin. Who noticeably melted at the affection, his hold loosening. Jep, who was a neutral party, sighed unhappily and moved so he was more firmly sprawled over Dropmix’s chest.

“You fragging better.” Is all Dropmix ground out, as he with a tense set to his shoulders, released the small pretender. Comet purred and snatched another nuzzle, which almost had him grabbed once more.

Jep half heartedly smiled as he moved to nudge Dropmix’s helm with his own. The younger mech is already trying to fight off the blue feelings associated with the communicator, of Comet leaving again.

Dropmix returned the gesture with a deep chuff, his arms itching for the warm weight of his other charge, who had scooped up the Com unit and had slipped from the room. He didn’t forget about the bigger of the two however.

“Don’t start worrying already Ao, he probably won't ship out for a couple days.” Dropmix shifted so he was holding the younger mech. He didn’t try to withhold his own growls of annoyance at the situation however. It was bad enough that one of his boys had to leave without any communication for  a month. The frequency of the summons were beginning to make him grind his teeth, Comet hadn’t even had time to heal yet.

The older mech felt where Comet had been laying was already cooling down, it made him frown. If the gladiator had his way, he wouldn’t even be letting the teen walk around right now.

“But he’s still exhausted!...I swear he’s lying about some of his injuries, there is no way he’s battle ready again!” Jeopardy was already beginning to fret, images of his dear friend’s mortifying wounds over the years making an appearance in his mind.

Dropmix ran a soothing hand down his boy’s spine, tapping softly. Jeopardy relaxed as his breathing slowed and he leaned back against his mentor’s large frame. And slowly an idea formed.

“Dropmix..”

“I'm still here.”

“...What if, Comet wasn’t ready to go yet?” It was a soft sentence, one laced with a hesitant connotation.

The gladiator smirked, catching on and nuzzling the younger. “..Go on.”

“He has severe exhaustion and isn't fit for duty,” Jeopardy started almost timidly, his confidence growing with the dangerous smile now spreading across Dropmix’s face. “Not to mention his severe overexertion that needs to be allowed, recovery.” 

Both medics shared a look, one full of hope, and the other a viscous glow of pride. 

In hushed tones they quickly came up with their diagnosis, since they themselves were the only ones other than the head medical officer, Ratchet, who knew much about the organic and his limits.

Jeopardy was not one to manipulate, but Comet was tired. He was worn and weary, his hip causing him trouble since he arrived.

He didn’t want the younger mech to get hurt again, neither of them did. It wasn’t lying if Comet wasn’t well enough to leave, though part of him was satisfied they could head off Jazz. Keep him safe for a little longer.

Comet came back a firm neutral expression on his face, his eyes slowly losing their dilation. The black inky sclera tumultuous as it receded from the metallic gold of his irises, it hinted at a rise of agitation. He smoothed his features well enough that Jeopardy did not notice that agitated swirl of colors.

Dropmix however knew the signs of his pretender’s distress. With a cool eye he watched the young organics eyes settle, how his hands shook ever so slightly as he closed the door.

The gladiator fought back the urge to bare his teeth, the slow gentle music dampening his protective anger.

Comet shouldn't have to look so tired, so stiff with tension. He should feel safe, he should be sleeping.

Cometeater smiled slightly, the red stripes on his helm and neck looking dull and dingy. A firm reminder of the stress of his work, and on the flipside. A reminder of his feelings toward the gladiator, Dropmix clenched his jaw.

Jeopardy let out a huff, “So?”

Comet did not have much time to get out an answer in response, Dropmix having enough of his youngest not being in his grasp. He tugged the green mech back to the berth, Comet’s smile growing almost tender as he allowed himself to be snatched into the older mech’s arms.

He was tucked between the two of them in seconds, Jeopardy’s large frame warm on his front as Dropmix curled around them both. Jep smiled and snuggled close, wrapping himself around his much smaller brother. Comet with Jeopardy’s face tucked against his, and Dropmix’s strong arm around them both, relaxed with a happy sigh. 

He was almost ready to fall asleep again, till he was nudged from behind. Dropmix’s chuff rumbling and full of comfort.

“So what did the bastard want?” 

Comet sighed deeply, noticing the way Jeopardy seemed to curl tighter around him. He pressed his face into the other’s jaw and let out a dull noise. 

Jeopardy’s arms tightened.

“He said they would need me back on base in two days.” Cometeater tried to ignore the dull ache all through his limbs, the soreness from his last job anchored into his bones. He had pushed himself too far, probably stretched some connective tissue in something important. Comet shoved it down, he would work around it.

Both medics went rigid, a low noise beginning in Dropmix’s chest. Jeopardy let out a whine pulling away slightly to stare at him horrified. “Two days?! That- You're not, you’d have to leave..” The math of his travel was not one Comet shared with them.

But he usually started his trip by hitching a ride on a nearby airfield, which was not even in the realm of ‘nearby’. It takes a day and a half to get there, which would mean losing more than half of his leave to get a spot and then travel. They had the rest of today, he would have to leave in the morning.

Cometeater let out a deep sigh, “Yeah.”

Jeopardy let out another keen, his mind racing with the idea of his friend in such a state, leaving.

Dropmix had not said a word, his lone blazing optic searing into the wall as he held his sons close to him. In his mind deeply strung instruments whispered, the plucks rich and dark. They battered his rage and forced his mind steady with every earth shattering blow of the bow.

Cellos had always made Dropmix think of Cometeater.

He tightened his jaw and began to tap his finger tips rhythmically against Jeopardy’s shoulder. To keep both he and the younger steady as waves of rage washed over him.

Jeopardy was trembling, clutching the rather resigned looking Comet to his chest, Dropmix forced out a breath and began to mentally plan out a medical leave report. 

He stopped himself short as the gears turned, Comet couldn't have one of those done. Not without screaming to the aether that he wasn't what he appeared.

The plan struck him and Dropmix locked his jaw around its throat.

“What are your medical leave codes, Cometeater?”

Comet let out a startled grunt at the question, trying to twist to look at Dropmix.  

“What?”

The dark mech forced a slow even breath, his age frayed patience growing thin. They didn’t have time for this.

“The codes you can send to your Commanding officer to tell them you're grounded,” In the nest of Dropmix and Jeopardy's arms, Cometeater flinched back, his face growing hard. “ Medical leave codes Comet.”

“I don’t need medical leave, I’m fine.” His voice was sharp and defensive, the worry peaked through though. In the tight bunch of his shoulders, Jeopardy moved to gently relax them without hesitation.

“You’re not fine, it's obvious that whatever you did,” Jeopardy’s voice was soft, “you overdid it. You’re not fit to be doing anything other than sleeping and eating right now.”

Comet huffed, his face falling into a cold stare as he mulled over the question. Dropmix eyed him as well as he could from his angle, feeling the tightness radiate over the teen’s back and shoulders. 

Jeopardy moved to run his thumb against the other’s shoulder, trying to soothe the tension.

Tucked between the two of them, Cometeater let the thoughts wash over and through his mind in waves. He wouldn’t mind staying home for a medical leave, he would love to get some real rest and let the fear of being summoned be left behind him for a couple weeks.

The worry of his employer’s reaction however was the only snag. Jazz wasn’t cruel, but if Comet slapped him with a medical pass right after getting off the com with him and receiving orders…

His cybertronians curled around him  and watched as Comet thought deeply, his sharp eyes flickering with motions and plans. In flashes his mind ripped apart every other reaction he had gotten from his commander, how much he had been allowed to push.

Pretty far usually. The mech wanted his work done, wanted it done quickly and smoothly.

But this would be him skipping that first guarantee of his agreement in its entirety. It was a risk to push him like this, he had already allowed himself to stay out of commission for a year. The collar Jazz had around Comet’s neck was pronged. 

If he started looking into them again, would Dropmix be safe? His secrets? The ones Comet swore to himself he would protect as his own?

If he made a fuss that would grab attention, attention neither of them need.

He felt his claws tighten in their fists, Jeopardy pressed his helm gently against his in support as Comet’s mind raced and dove within itself.

“Comet.”  Dropmix’s voice was firm and low, a rumble that shook him from his chartering, his internal dissections. The large mech tenderly nudged him, a deep chuff comforting the pretenders mind.

“Getting a little deep in your head Ino, take a breath.”

Comet let himself breath out, not realizing he had frozen so badly. Jeopardy smiled at him slightly, optics warm but worried.

“If you’re worried about Jazz, I’m sure he won’t mind you taking leave.”

While Jeopardy’s tone was caring, Dropmix huffed in a rather bitter dialect. “He can’t exactly send you out to do his dirty work if you're about to pass out, fragging bastard can get someone else.”

The grumble had Come’s mind blaring once more, the shift in tempo ragged and hitching. That snag, the loose stitching that was his secrets. He couldn’t let Jazz become agitated, he would mind if he couldn’t use Comet. If he couldn’t get his dog to work, he’d snatch the chain.

Press and push, make things harder. 

“Hey no Comet its ok! Its just leave, its not like you're defecting.” Jeopardy rushed out as Comet grew tense once more, his plating rising as his mind raced with the things he could be risking.

Dropmix sighed, snuggling the boy close. “Comet what are you fretting over, its medical leave. You don't have a choice anyway..”

Jeopardy glared at the older mech who shrugged. Face passive and unbothered.

“I’m not letting you leave like this, your hip is bothering you again anyway.”

Comet let out a breath, “Jazz can’t be stretched too far..I was already out for over a year. I can’t afford to get on his nerves-Not now.”

Suddenly the very organic thump of Comet’s heart was deafening. Both medics felt the throb, it seemed to punctuate the pretender’s statement. 

Dropmix felt his protectiveness flare and he tightened his hold on the two teens, Jeopardy letting out a soft noise of discomfort at the realization.

“He wouldn’t- He would, the bastard is a snake.” Dropmix interrupted his apprentice with a dull growl, his hatred for the spy growing. If that was possible.

“But you shouldn’t be out on the field, so its final. The mech can talk to me about it, it will be under my jurisdiction.” The mech huffed, deciding it was settled and done.

Comet only groaned, “Dropmix I don't want you- I don't want him picking at you because of me! He’s dangerous..” It was a hushed whisper, a primal fear lurking in his mind. Of secrets being ripped open.

Dropmix rolled an eye, letting out a grunt. “I can take care of him, fragger is good. But I’m better.” It was said with a prideful air, almost insulted that the kid would worry about his ability to keep himself out of view. Something he had been doing long before Comet could walk.

Jeopardy let out a sigh, “It will be ok, just let us give you leave. He has no grounds to be angry, or start..Poking things.” Dropmix snorted at the wording.

The smaller medic huffed “You know what I mean.”

Cometeater listened, but his nerves continued to fray. The thrum of his heart faster.  “You don’t know that.”

Both mechs exchanged glances, one more worried while the other narrowed. 

Comet let out a sharp breath, it took seconds and either mech were gently grounding him once more. “Don't get worked up Ino, listen to me, he’s not gonna mess with you.”

Dropmix’s rough voice was firm in his ear, comforting and grounding as the large mech cradled him close.

“It's not me I'm worried about! He’ll dig and rip stuff open, he’s gonna- gonna get something on you! It will be my fault,” Dropmix stiffened and Jeopardy bit his lip at the strangled terrified gasps. “ I-I cant lose anyone else-”

He didn’t get time to finish, before he was silenced by warm hands on his face, Jeopardy pressing their foreheads together in a tender embrace. Jeopardy’s engines stuttered with emotion, but he forced himself to stay together. 

Dropmix held them snuggly to him, as he clenched his jaw. So tight his teeth ached. 

“You aren't gonna lose us, not him or anyone else is going to take us away. Breathe Comet.”

They held one another for a while, the two teens hugging each other tight as the elder soothed the younger. Dropmix cradled them both, his mind deep and cavernous in its thoughts.

He decided he had calls to make, he could do without the codes. 

Comet needed rest.

[goodfish-bowl]

Saving Throw

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Day 6: Tabletop

AO3 Link

Summary: Danny invites Sam and Tucker over to play D&D, asking Spike for a favor to DM the game for them.

Warnings: minor character death, only dialog

Words: 829

“Okay, I’m going to enter the dungeon.”

“I follow into the dungeon.”

“I…  also follow into the dungeon.”

“Okay… so what do we see?”

“It seems to be some sort of laboratory, with metal tables lined up against the walls, open chests full of vials and potions all this bright green color. There are all sorts of tools, journals, and pieces of… something, lying on the tables, and it’s decently cold down here. And, taking up the entire back wall is a cavern, circled by runes, that the entire laboratory seems centered around. What do you do?”

“Oh! The artificer in me loves this place already! I go and investigate the things on the table! Gotta start with the small stuff before looking at the big picture.”

“Yeah, have fun with that. I go and investigate the big hole in the wall.” 

“Eh, why not? I follow… Raven to the back.” 

“Okay, Swave, let’s start with you. I need you to roll both an arcana and… eh, an investigation check works.”

“Cool, okay… that’s a… 7 for arcana and 16 for investigation.”

“So, on the table, you can definitely tell whoever lives here was tinkering with something magic, but you can’t tell what kind other than green and glowy. It’s just a bit too far removed from your area of expertise. Whatever it is, they don’t seem to be getting the results they want, judging from the notes. But, they’ve definitely accomplished something recently.”

“Damn, really wish I rolled higher on that arcana.”

“It is what it is. So, with Raven and Orion. Now that you’re closer, you notice that there are runes inscribed around the cavern, roll an Arcana.”

“Nice, 18 plus 3, 21.”

“I rolled an 8.”

“Okay, well, Raven, you completely recognize these runes, you even notice some blatant errors in some of them. They seem to be an activation sequence of some kind, a gate, even. Orion, you know what a small handful of the runes mean, but nothing coherent.”

“Okay… I uh… go inside the cavern.”

“Eh! I dunno dude, I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk into the giant magic gate in the underground lab.”

“Nah, let him, I’m curious.”

“It’s too late to take it back now. Raven, what are you doing while he’s walking inside?”

“Hmmm, do I notice Orion walking inside?”

“Roll a perception.”

“… that’s a solid 3.”

“Then no.”

“Okay, I’m going to fix the runes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey! Don’t do that! I’m literally walking inside of it right now! Can’t you wait until I’m out?”

“First off, I didn’t notice you go inside, second, the runes are wrong, of course I’m going to fix them. It’s what my character would do!”

“Oh no…” 

“Swave, I want you to also roll a perception check.”

“… Sorry dude, that’s a 5 at best.”

“Ughhhh.”

“Raven, roll an arcana again to correct the runes.”

“17.”

“Congrats, you’ve fixed the runes. Orion, roll a dex save.”

“NO!”

“AH!”

“Oops.”

“… a 2.”

“Ouch, man. Okay, so Raven and Swave. As Orion enters the cavern, and Raven fixes the runes, they start glowing, and there’s a tearing sound as green pours out from the hole in the wall.”

“NOooOooo…”

“Hmm, just for kicks, Orion, roll a con save.”

“Okay… man, this sucks, first session and I’m already… that’s a nat 20.”

“Seriously?!”

“Wow, this will be interesting. So, Orion, as you enter the cavern, now known to be a portal, it lights up with green magic, and races through you, like it’s cooking you alive. But due to the force, it launches you out, and you land in the middle of the laboratory floor… Lower your hp to 1, and use up two death saves. Also, change your race to tiefling. I’ll send you the rest of the stuff when I figure it out.”

“YOOO!”

“Haha… yeah… wow.”

“Hey, Spike, thanks for coming over to DM today.”

“No problem. It’s good to help a friend's sibling with something I’m good at. Especially when he’s trying to make new friends, and it’s not like Jazz was ever going to call in that favor.”

“Yeah, it was really cool. Thank you, but wasn’t it a bit ‘on the nose’ to use my parent’s basement as a reference?”

“Hey, it’s a good inspiration. Besides, you’re the one who walked into it, prior knowledge or not.” 

“Haha… yeah that’s on me… didn’t think it was actually going to do anything until Sam decided to fix the runes.” 

“Yeah, not the best move from a group perspective. But… Jazz said they’re expecting to finish it within the next year.”

“Yeah… maybe. Most of their stuff just covers us in goo. I just hope they finish it soon… they’ve been down there a lot, ya know?”

“Yeah… I do.”

“Anyways, I’m sure I’ll see you around. I’ll tell Jazz you said ‘hi’ whenever she gets home from tutoring.”

“Thanks, little dude. See you around.”

“Later.”

Ectoberhaunt 2023 Master Post

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

Deep within. Pt 1

( @quibble-auk wow look at me go, I decided to tackle all my worms at once. So now we have two blurbs!!! This is just part one, because I am tired and I realized Im actually setting up a scene so its a lot more writing than I usually do lol. I copy it here though and I doesn't look like very much...Oh well.)

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Comet had a bad feeling. It sunk and ached in his stomach as he crept along the lines. Dust whispered past in long drawls as he walked. The  Pretender’s destination, an outpost beyond the melted outer reaches of a dead cybertronian city. Jazz had sent him with orders to watch and report. Turns out one of the saboteur’s blood bugs had hissed a big import would soon be passing through said outpost. 

Comet had of course hated the idea of being sent out. Sneaking past guards and dodging sensors came almost naturally, that wasn’t the part he hated. It was that he knew if he got killed the visored mech wouldn’t even send for his body. If he was captured he was on his own. That's what Jazz had told him the day he was “recruited”.

Prowl had been there, the cold creature unmoving and lacking in any expression that wasn't a disappointed scowl. “You have no choice in the matter, you yourself are not a cybertronian. You came to the planet bypassing laws, you are an invasive species with no rights to speak of. You being sentient,” Prowl had said the word as if it was a false coin, worth nothing except the lie it could tell. Comet decided he hated Prowl,”does not protect you from being exterminated as though we were not at war. As  foreign organism laws dictate.” Their laws were like that of a rotting corpse. They may have held the face of a living thing, but they stank and bled diseased principles. These same creatures who lived under such laws, culled cubs and bred mechs just to kill for the pleasure of the few. Comet hated them. He wanted to kill them.

Jazz had been lounging with his pedes on his desk, relaxed and unbothered that he had by all means chained Comet to himself. As a tool.

“Its not that bad Prowl,” He was lying to shed himself in a softer light, couldn't afford a grudge, “You’ll be treated like one of my..associates, a scout with less paperwork. My apprentice in title Cometeater. You’re just an ex gladiator who is very gifted in reconnaissance.” It wasn’t a statement. Comet had felt his plating rise and teeth grind, Jazz was offering him a story. An opening in which Comet’s secret never left the room, he just had to help the Autobot cause. Be a dog. 

Comet growled angrily to himself as he leapt through what was once a tower of some kind, its skeleton broken and on its side. It was a large structure, perfect for hiding and getting ground covered with less danger of eyes catching him.

When he was on a mission he needed to focus. Any anger toward Jazz and Prowl redistributed into his muscles and eyes. Once he was done, he could go home. Comet stopped on the outer support of the crippled tower, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. Home.

The warm thought was shattered by the sudden scream in his mind. Comet ducked down and into the building without a sound. Slinking along the shadows of the columns, he bared his teeth.

 Seekers.

They tore past in thrumming shifts of their engines, they were slowing down.

Comet cursed and lowered himself farther into the rubble, watching as the seekers gave way to another flyer. A transport. It was a hideously large transport, cutting down from the atmosphere flanked by more than a dozen seekers. Escorts.

With aching eyes he took note of how its wings readied itself for landing, flying over him and out toward the edges of the ruins. Jazz’ tip had been right, whatever those seekers were guarding in that ship had to be important. Comet cautiously began to pick toward the edge of the city, only stopping once when the seekers made a patrol around the city’s skies. Not giving off a spark signature probably saved Comet’s skin from being found, his organic warmth not really noticeable on scanners. More likely to be a hot spot or burn mark on the ground than a living thing.

So without a backward turn the patrol circled beyond the horizon and back toward, what Comet assumed, their charge. 

Within the next two hours the edge of the city was in view, and an old port. Docked within its decrepit stalls was the transport.

Comet groaned in realization. How much of the city was crawling with them? The underground maintenance for the dock’s storage might be filled with who knows what. Cometeater moved in on the decepticon run port slowly. He knew the closer he got, the more dangerous it would be to get overzealous. Soon he found a perch with enough of a visual he could keep tabs on the port, and the transport.

He slipped his claws up to his com, the thin collar blended in with his flesh far too well for his liking. But it was that or an implanted communicator. The last thing Comet needed was Jazz’s voice in his head all the time. With a tap the line was open, he let out a low chirp into the com.

“Cougar, status.”

“Stowed.”

“Stand bye”

Comet, settled cautiously along the inner barrier of an old tower, the uppermost floor gone leaving the second to last without a roof on its left side. He felt his skin buzz with information as he kept tense, he had learned quickly to never relax when within spitting distance of the enemy.

“Line clear, Cougar, report?”

“Docks north edge, occupied, large thick armored bird landed with escorts. Assumed maintenance hives are also occupied.”

“Visual?”

“Upper left docking station, unloading of..” Comet squinted, coaxing his eyes to dilate and shift to make out the cargo. “Equipment, resources for an extended occupation. A  hundred head crew, a flock and a half of armed escorts, and two hundred armed bodies.”

“Moving into the hives?”

“Affirmative.”

“Stand by Cougar.”

Comet huffed his armor fluffing at the sheer size and quantity of the operation. This was far more than an outpost, it looked like the bones of a base of operations. That wasn’t good.

Shifting forward, Comet frowned, a large group was exiting the transport. In a few blinks the pretender’s cells within his eyes shifted and split, the view becoming clear and enlarged. Comet felt bile rise in his throat. With what he knew had to be a general, the top dog of the infantile base, was a tall mech. Larger than all of the able bodied cons. Comet hated that he recognized her.

Sunrazor was an officer on the base.  

Comet sighed deeply, that was the last thing he needed right now. That mech had an uncanny ability to find him, to scent him. 

“Cougar do you copy?”

“Roger Meister, there's more to this.”

“Go on.”

“Big names, a general. Mech matches the description of Innertoil, he has a gaggle of officers. Sunrazor among them.”

….Comet hoped Jazz would tell him to leave the area and a team would be sent to gut the base, but he knew for a fact no one else would be able to get in the area again once the Decepticons set up shop. Sunrazor would be a huge factor in the saboteur deciding against such action. The mech had caused more fatalities than was mentionable, a jinx on any operation. Comet almost wished he had not said a word about Sunrazor, as the radio silence stretched. Jazz knew Comet was a target of her’s, makes a good distraction doesn't it?

“Word has been sent Cougar, your orders are to remain and observe the target. If the situation changes you are to report, understood?”

Comet could not win.

“...Affirmative.”

The com line cut with a thin tap.

Comet forced a deep breath, eyes not leaving the port, and began to move himself to another perch.

(Next)