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Sometimes Trepan missed Tumbler. The self-righteous fragger may have tried to arrest him that one time for literally no good reason -having words engraved on you, no matter how “suspicious” they were, was not a crime after all- but at the very least he was always a good student. He was diligent and focused, his attention always hanging on every word of explanation, and it was clear that his interest in mnemosurgery expanded beyond the necessity of the lessons, reaching a point of personal curiosity. Plus, he was a very quick learner, having picked up the basics so easily that even Trepan had genuinely been impressed. It was clear Tumbler would make quite an accomplished surgeon one day, for already he was one of the best students he’d had.
Overlord, on the other hand, was only sometimes a good student.
Sometimes Overlord listened to him with great interest, and would treat him with the respect a mnemosurgeon of his calibre deserved, would praise him and awe at his impressive talents. But then, sometimes Overlord would be in a mood.
Whenever that happened it could manifest in a few different ways. It could lead to him getting frustrated and easily agitated whenever a lesson was going over his helm, which would occasionally result in something being destroyed. Or it could lead to him simply getting bored and distracted, hardly taking in anything that was being said because he simply didn’t care anymore, in which case he would call the lesson off early and Trepan would be left wondering why the hell Overlord even brought him here in the first place.
But the worse of the moods, the one that Overlord currently seemed to be in, was when he starting finding everything funny for no damn reason.
Trepan had merely told him that it was time for his “interfacing lessons”, and the infuriating glitch had suddenly burst out into laughter.
Whatever joke was to be found there was completely lost on Trepan.
He’d known then that Overlord was going to be difficult this lesson, but still he hadn’t been prepared for just how incredibly annoying the Decepticon was going to get.
Trepan had started the session rather simply, first going over some of the discussions from the previous lesson, such as explaining neural pathways and rehashing the importance of restraint with mnemosurgery. Overlord had been quiet enough at that point, listening intently and really seeming like he was paying attention, only for the larger bot to suddenly start laughing again for absolutely no reason.
All Trepan had said was “You’ll find that interfacing is a rather pleasurable experience, in its own right,” while trying to explain why surgeons found it so addictive.
What was so damn funny about that?
It was the truth, after all, interfacing was thrilling, it was something that gave you power over another bot, it allowed you to be deeper inside them than anyone else could ever be.
You were in their psyche, their memories, the thing that made them who they were. What could possibly be a more enjoyable experience?
“Oh trust me,” Overlord had grinned once his chortling quietened down, “I know very well how pleasurable interfacing is.”
Trepan had rolled his optics at that. Because there was no way Overlord could truly understand it until he actually experienced it. The idiot didn’t know what he was talking about.
But Trepan did not linger on that or argue with him. Instead he tried to continue the explanation, to continue the lesson they had started. However, for whatever reason, Overlord was still insistent on chuckling at everything he said, finding humour where there was truly none to be found. So Trepan gave up on that, and decided it would instead be better to try some demonstrations.
He led Overlord over to the desk where he’d previously set up the three procured processors in preparation for this lesson, modules that Trepan was sure Overlord had acquired from less than tasteful means. Not that it mattered to him, of course.
He picked up one of the processors, and he twisted it in his grasp as he checked it over, making sure that it had not been damaged during its extraction. He scowled, however, as he found a few dents within the surface, some lined up in a clear enough pattern of digit prints.
“Just brings me the helms next time so I can remove the processors myself,” he huffed, throwing the module over his shoulder, earning him two thump sounds, one which he assumed was from it incidentally hitting against Overlord, and the second one being it landing upon the floor, “or, better yet,” he continued as he grabbed one of the remaining processors off the table, “bring me live specimens. Memories begin to fade after death, these hardly make good examples.”
He heard Overlord scoff at that.
“Does the quality of the memories really matter this early on?” he questioned, sounding rather displeased, “you haven’t given me my own needles yet.”
Trepan rolled his optics as he turned to face the other bot, looking up at him with a glare.
“I’m not giving needles to a novice,” he retorted, the mere notion was simply ridiculous, “and you won’t be receiving them until I can feel certain that you are ready. Once we are far enough in our lessons I will quiz you on your knowledge; and if, despite being a degenerate brute, you are able to pass that test, then, and only then, will you finally be permitted to interface. Understood?”
He was expecting some annoyance towards the insult that just kind of slipped out, but, For whatever reason, Overlord’s frown actually began to disappear then, and his intake was instead pulled into a smirk.
“So, interfacing is my reward for a good grade?” he drawled humouredly, “I must say, dear teacher, what a intriguing motivator.”
Trepan blinked at that, his glare fading into more of a puzzled stare.
“I would hope the thought of interfacing motivates you,” he hissed, “it’s the whole reason you brought me here.”
Overlord’s grin widened strangely, and the larger bot looked down his frame then, causing Trepan to flinch under the weird scrutiny.
“Indeed it is,” Overlord purred in agreement.
Trepan continued to stare for a moment, his brow ridge narrowed and his intake hanging open as he struggled to find the words to respond to that.
It was common knowledge that Overlord was dangerous, his reputation had made that very well known, but no one had ever talked about how damn odd the triple changer was.
In the end he just shook his helm and decided to ignore it.
“A-Anyway,” he huffed out, “we’re getting distracted.”
He held up the module for Overlord to see then, and -thankfully- the Decepticon eyed it with interest.
“It’s time for some demonstrations,” Trepan announced, “Let me show you the best methods of penetration.”
Immediately that supposed interest was gone, and Overlord started chortling again.
“Focus!” Trepan snapped, holding the processor in his servo up to try and catch Overlord’s attention.
And, to Overlord’s credit, the fragger certainly tried to obey, his laughter dying down quickly once more.
Trepan brought out his needles from the digits of his free servo then, and with a careful and drawn out motion he began to slide his needles into the presented module.
“It'll get easy to know the correct angle once you've done it a few times,” Trepan explained, “but to begin with you'll want to enter slowly and gently.”
Overlord snorted humouredly -but thankfully the noise remained as only that- and he reached over, gripping one of Trepan's servos so to force them both higher and closer, to give himself a better look.
Trepan frowned at the touch, but he did not bother to protest it. Overlord had complained a decent number of times already that Trepan never took their height differences into account and was always forgetting to hold things high enough for him to see, so this certainly wasn’t the first time Overlord had grabbed him like this. Plus. Overlord liked to call himself a “servos-on learner”, which apparently was just an excuse to be overly touchy.
At least he was surprisingly good at controlling his strength, Trepan hadn’t been hurt by him yet.
“And you gotta push in nice and deep, yeah?” Overlord asked then with a smirk, his index digit tapping on the end of Trepan’s, where it was pressed up against the processor, “right up to the hilt?”
Trepan scoffed at that, and he pulled his servos out of Overlord’s grasp then, letting his needles slip free from the module.
“Sure, that can help,” he explained, “but it’s not the depth that matters really, it’s the positioning, and the technique.”
Overlord’s grin widened then, and Trepan could hear a laugh being held back in his vocaliser.
“Yeah, that’s what all small bots say,” Overlord jeered.
Trepan looked up at with him narrow optics, and he was sure his confusion was clear on his face.
“I...” he muttered out, trying to figure out what the hell Overlord’s words even meant, “Not all mnemosurgeons are small,” he ended up arguing, “yes, there is certainly a preference for the craft in bots with microscope alt-modes and other thinner frames,” he admitted, “but it’s not always the case. In fact, I knew this one surgeon who was huge.”
Overlord snickered at that.
“I bet I’m bigger,” he purred.
Trepan rolled his optics.
“Okay, maybe not huge in your standards,” he huffed, “He was certainly a bizarre one though, that idiot really thought that mnemosurgery could progress to the point where needles weren’t even necessary. What a ridiculous concept.”
Overlord lifted a brow ridge at that, his intake still twisted with that infernal smirk.
“Interfacing without penetration?” he asked, “How boring.”
“I know right?” Trepan exclaimed in agreement, perhaps a little too eagerly, “Why would you even want to remove that aspect? the penetration is part of the fun!”
Suddenly, and again for reasons Trepan could not understand, Overlord was cackling again, throwing his helm back as he let the blasted noise ring out freely.
Trepan found himself getting embarrassed then, even though he still had no idea what Overlord was even laughing at.
“What!?” he demanded, “You- Urgh, you haven’t done it before! You wouldn’t understand,” he snapped.
Overlord started wiping at some coolant building in his optics, struggling to get his snickering to stop.
Trepan scowled, and he found himself throwing the processor in his servo at Overlord. It thumped against his chest plating, but the larger bot hardly paid any notice to it.
“I’ve interfaced a lot,” Trepan indignantly reminded the stupid brute, “I know what I’m talking about!”
But that just made the triple changer start laughing even more.
Trepan remained quiet this time and simply glared, until finally Overlord calmed down enough to talk again.
“So,” Overlord began, still grinning at him, still wiping away another bit of coolant, “how many bots have you interfaced with?”
Trepan huffed at that.
“As if I could remember the exact number,” he answered with a roll of his optics, “but it has to be at least a hundred thousand,” he added rather proudly.
Overlord's grin simply grew wider.
“Wow, you really get around, huh?” he drawled.
Trepan frowned.
“I... I guess?” he muttered, bemused.
The Institute changed buildings a lot to keep up its secrecy, and Trepan often flew off for on-location surgeries if the need arose. So yeah, he was rather well travelled.
“I’ve been alive for millions of years,” Trepan continued that thought aloud, “so I’ve had plenty of time for interfacing.”
Overlord started chuckling again, it was incredibly irritating.
“You would call yourself an expert then?” Overlord pressed with a grin.
Trepan puffed his chest out proudly.
“I’m the best,” he declared, “No one is better at interfacing than I am.”
He really should not have been surprised at this point when Overlord suddenly burst into laughter, again, his voice infuriatingly loud and echoing around the room in a mocking rhythm.
But Trepan had, by far, had enough of this ridiculousness.
“That’s it! What is so damn funny!?” he spat, his optics fierce and his plating bristling from his anger, “I can’t teach you if you’re going to just refuse to pay attention, so tell me, what the hell are you even laughing at!?”
Again, it took a moment for Overlord to finally stop laughing.
“I can’t believe you don’t know,” he eventually chuckled, giving an incredulous but humoured shake of his helm.
Trepan grimaced quizzically.
“Know what?” he demanded.
Overlord hummed thoughtfully, seemingly trying to decide whether or not he was actually willing to give an answer. But Trepan’s glare deepened, and Overlord finally decided to show him mercy.
“Interfacing has another meaning,” he explained curtly.
Trepan raised a brow ridge at that.
“One outside of mnemosurgery?” he asked disbelievingly, “What the hell are you talking about? What other meaning?”
Overlord's smirk grew again.
“Well, it also means to, you know,” the larger bot raised both servos then, and on one he brought his thumb and another digit together, making the shape of a circle in the space between them, and with his other servo he simply outstretched his index digit, and then placed it inside that circle.
Trepan frowned at that, still puzzled. So Overlord moved his index finger in and out of the circle his other servo was making, in an insistent and repeated motion.
It still took a few seconds, but then Trepan’s optics went wide.
“Fragging?!” he snarled incredulously, “Bots use it as another word for fragging!? Since when!?
Overlord shrugged.
“I didn’t come up with it,” he huffed bluntly, “How should I know?”
Trepan mostly ignored that response as he was still reeling from his shock, and he gritted his denta as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing.
“It- It’s so stupid!” he spat, and then his optics twisted into a leer as he stared up at Overlord, “You’re making that up,” he accused, “Mnemosurgery was using the term first, why would anyone steal it for a twisted purpose like fragging!?”
Overlord looked momentarily annoyed by the misplaced blame, but then, once again, he simply ended up smirking.
“Hmm, both involve putting something inside another bot,” he answered crudely, “you know, penetration,” he added mockingly, throwing Trepan’s earlier constant use of that word back at him.
Trepan’s face scrunched up with disgust.
“I can’t believe this,” he lamented, suddenly feeling like he was getting a helm-ache, “You- You damn degenerates! Interfacing is an intricate and delicate procedure that takes years to master!” he spat, “It’s nothing like just jamming your damn spike in someone!”
Overlord once again was clearly trying to hold back his need to cackle at Trepan’s misfortunes.
“Somehow I doubt you have enough experience with one form of interfacing to actually know the comparison,” he teased.
Trepan had to really fight the urge to pick up the last processor from the table and throw that one too.
“So- So what?” he snapped, “only rancid bots like you participate in something so shameful like that! Of course I have never fragged anyone before!”
Overlord snickered then, and he put on such an obviously feigned look of sympathy.
“Well, you’re really missing out,” he grinned as he took a step closer, bringing himself way too far into Trepan’s personal space.
“If you want,” Overlord continued with a purr, leaning down and bringing a servo up so he could trace a digit around the rim of the glass on Trepan’s chest, “I could give you some interfacing lessons of my own.”
Trepan froze, his optics going wide at the crude offer. For a second he couldn’t bring himself to move, as Overlord’s digit continued to tease at his glass, sending a shiver down his back struts. In the end it was only his utter fury at the mocking misuse of the word ‘interfacing’ that finally spurred him into motion.
“That’s it,” Trepan hissed, trying to slap Overlord’s servo away as he stepped away from him. “We're done for the day, go be disgusting somewhere else.”
Overlord rolled his optics, but he obeyed none-the-less, starting to make his way towards the door.
“Same time tomorrow?” he called back once he was at the exit, smugness and humour so obvious in his voice.
Trepan scowled.
“Only if you are going to behave next time,” he hissed back.
That got another laugh out of the larger bot.
“Oh, absolutely not,” he admitted, grinning back over his shoulder.
Trepan vented, pinching frustratedly at his nasal ridge.
“Yeah, whatever, same time tomorrow,” he relented anyway with a dismissive wave, because really, he didn’t exactly have a choice.
He was finally left alone there, and he found himself grimacing as he leant tiredly against the table, hating that his processor was clinging to a particular thought no matter how desperately he chased it out.
Because despite everything, despite his utter disgust, he couldn’t stop wondering just how honest Overlord’s offer had been.