Chapter Text
This has got to be Heavy Iron’s worst idea. And he had stolen the Star Crown in the past.
Since when has “getting back into a relationship with his arch-nemesis” been included in his absurdly long, definitely incriminating list of oddly specific schemes? Someone he has known for hundreds of thousands of damning years no less? It’s idiotic–no–INCREDULOUS. Outrageous.
The fact that this whole thing is his own idea adds more salt to the wound.
Why did he willingly get himself in this mess, then?
A few weeks have passed since Heavy Iron’s absolutely genius attempt at terraforming planet Earth (totally not something that can be classified as an act of ecoterrorism) was foiled by Jun and his motley crew of cardbots. Having been sealed, his age of terror finally came to a stop, and now he spends most of his days outside the Metal Breath attempting to clean the hangar or just standing stiffly around.
As much as Heavy Iron loathed the very idea of working in a group, especially as someone’s subordinate (the human boy insisted on the word “friend”) and not the leader, things aren’t… too bad. There’s still trouble here and there, but they are but a speck of dust compared to the constant chaos and daring-do’s and battles that used to be part of his daily life during the days of planet Machina. It’s not exactly a change of pace he’s accustomed to, but Heavy Iron doesn’t outright reject it.
However, Heavy Iron can list three major disadvantages of working for Jun.
Number one. He’s constantly pestered by hyperactive mechs who can’t ever leave him alone during his short whiles of being let outside of the Metal Breath, or given cautious looks by the calmer ones who awkwardly try their best to assimilate a reformed criminal of an older generation into their considerably brighter and younger team.
Number two. Black Hook is among them.
Number three. Rumors spread like wildfire.
It was another busy day in Mowtown. Edo needed help to move some unused materials out of his workshop because it’s getting too cluttered for him to work in. Steel beams, iron roofs, assorted scrap metals, you name it. Edo needs space. So do the cardbots. They were helping him in moving everything out. Heavy Iron, resident wallflower, was lending a hand too, much to the surprise of everyone. Edo just gave him a thumbs up.
While moving things outside, due to his full servos paired with his waning sight, Heavy Iron had dropped a few steel beams. Black Hook, always nosy and thriving off schadenfreude from Heavy Iron’s distress, takes advantage of the situation.
“About time you’ve stopped pressuring your optics too much, Heavy Iron.” Black Hook laughs lightly.
Heavy Iron still can’t take light jabs well. Of course he fights back.
“Taking part in this menial activity was a mistake. I shouldn’t have bothered.”
Jun noticed that Heavy Iron’s thin pupils were gone. Old habits die hard, the boy assumes, but Jun has learned that said “old habit” is always a prelude to something explosive given how many times this has happened. And the context now.
Not like Black Hook cares.
“Just because you can’t hold those scrap irons right? Cheer up, won’t you.”
“With you around?”
Black Hook raises an optic ridge.
“Sensitive much?”
Heavy Iron takes heavy steps closer towards the pirate. “Why don’t you go do something useful for once, Black Hook?”
“I wasn’t the one dropping the beams, now was I?”
More insults are exchanged between the two cardbots, increasingly getting more petty and more personal. It started off as mere jabs about Heavy Iron’s insignificant mistake, then about Black Hook’s inability to shut up, then they’re just arguing. Again.
Somewhere along the lines, Jun has lost focus on what they are now fighting about. The human boy doesn’t really bother trying to separate the two anymore because of how used he is to this. Let them tire each other out first, like Crest had said all those weeks ago. So he just readies his Metal Breath like he always does at the climax of Black Hook and Heavy Iron’s regular disputes, preparing for the inevitable.
“Wasn’t I the one who was able to steal the Star Crown from you?” Heavy Iron growls, voice low and dripping with venom. Oh, so they are now bringing up their past beef. Jun grimaces.
“Well, who obtained it first?!” Black Hook retorts. “You’re just a D-list convict without it, anyways! It’s very on point for you to blame all of this on me!”
“You started this meaningless argument first.”
“Then why fight me over it?! I was making a joke!”
“Jokes are supposed to make me laugh.”
“Work on your sense of humor, then!”
“Or YOU can try coming up with something that won’t piss people off for once!”
Their mandatory thrice-a-week fight has attracted the rest of the cardbots. Still with their tools and things in their arms, they watch Black Hook and Heavy Iron’s increasingly heated argument with either boredom or exasperation. The two don’t even seem to pay attention to the crowd that they’ve attracted and are still focused on hurling insults at one another.
“Seriously?”
“They’re at it again.”
“Here we go.”
Mega Trucker whispers to Bluecop, sounding giggly. “What do you think is their issue now?”
“Beats me,” Bluecop sighs and rubs the back of his helm. Like Jun, he has come to learn that with how this triweekly occurrence has become the norm in the hangar, he no longer has to panic or put in too much effort to subdue the two fuming mechs.
Bluecop looks down on his human friend. The only one who’s able to put an end to their fight. “Jun, I believe you should seal them now.” Lest this gets violent soon, he wants to add, though the words evaporated in his vocalizer.
Jun blinks. “Um, yeah. In a bit, Bluecop.”
Suddenly, Heavy Iron did the unthinkable.
Without so much as a grunt, Heavy Iron grabs Black Hook by the pauldrons and harshly pushes him to the wall. The sound of metal crashing against metal reverberates through the hangar, so loud Jun had to wince. Black Hook suppresses a grunt from the sudden act of roughness, and the jolt of pain on his back only makes him struggle even more. Their chassis had barely scraped against one another and thin, barely-present trails of electricity crackled between them, a sly indicator of their close proximity. As if it wasn’t enough already, the air around them rises in temperature.
“Listen, Black Hook,” Heavy Iron growls, face mere inches away from Black Hook’s own, “you do NOT want to piss me off today.”
“Why not? I’ve done plenty.” Black Hook retorts, his singular visible optic narrowing. With his head tilted upwards a little, the look he was giving made it clear that he’s challenging Heavy Iron. ”What meaning does another clash of weapons between us hold?”
“Allow me to remind you.”
“What’s the hold up, then?”
“This is your final warning.”
“Like you’re brave enough to do anything to me!”
Just as they’re about to brandish their weapons — Black Hook his ax and Heavy Iron his wrist blades — an annoyed voice slices through the tension.
“Cut it out, you two.”
Black Hook and Heavy Iron turn their gazes to the side, looking down at a slightly smaller cardbot of black and red paint job that’s slowly approaching them. Only one mech ever dares to challenge their patience with his incessant words.
“You stay out of this, Fleta Z!” Black Hook yells, waving his arm for emphasization. “Unless you also want an ax to—“
“If you two are having a domestic dispute, don’t bring it here.” Fleta Z scoffs, servos on his waist. “It disturbs the mood.”
Black Hook and Heavy Iron lower their arms at the flier’s words. Their optics are as wide as they can get, and if they had mouths, they would be gaping wide open right now.
They take in Fleta Z’s words slowly.
What?
“What,” Heavy Iron breathes out, teeming with even more rage than before, “did you just say ?”
“Sort your thing out after we’re done with our jobs like grown mechs. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of s–.”
“This is not a “domestic dispute”!” Black Hook yells, face heating with embarrassment. “What–WHAT the hell are you talking about?!”
Fleta Z’s damning words seem to have proven effective in redirecting their fight as more cardbots join in on his mediating effort. At the sudden sounds of them filling the air, the two larger mechs just realized how silent everyone had been right after Heavy Iron pushed Black Hook against the wall. Some others, notably Phoenix Fire, Bluecop, and Buffalo Crush, are still standing there in shock. Or confusion. Buster Gallon is one outlier — wearing an amused expression that makes it harder for the two older cardbots to control their ire.
Oh, how Heavy Iron wishes to wipe their wicked expressions off their faces.
“Whatever that he’s done now, surely you two can talk it out properly,” Mega Ambler chimes in. In actuality, he’s as confused as everyone else who are still thinking about the two-word phrase Fleta Z had said.
“Me?! It was this bastard who pushed me first!” Black Hook jabs a finger on Heavy Iron’s chassis. “See! Now I’m lumped in with you again !”
“I was acting in self-defense,” Heavy Iron snarls, leaning forward in a threatening manner. Like they did before Fleta Z had interrupted them, their chassis are almost scraping against each other. Black Hook is once again backed against the wall.
“Since when does a brute like you ever play defense about anything?!”
And now their forehelms are touching.
“Enough! Enough, you two!” Mega Ambler cries, agitated. He’s now standing beside Fleta Z, looking up at the two mechs still bickering. The medic even looks uncomfortable at the display before him. “Don’t you ever get tired of constantly fighting?!”
“Go ask this barbarian over here!”
“If it’s with you? Never.”
“The feeling’s mutual!”
“This is ridiculous! Learn some self-restraint!” Mega Ambler continues, his words falling on deaf audials.
“Your fights are lowering the team’s morale!” Dexter yells.
Phoenix Fire raises an optic ridge. “I’m not sure about that. We had movie night two days ago.”
“Phoenix Fire, I’m trying to get them to stop.” Dexter whispers quickly to his friend. He nods at that.
“Everyone, just give up. They’re too tunnel-visioned on each other to listen to us.” Fleta Z sighs in mock-disappointment.
He stands corrected. Black Hook and Heavy Iron once again break their gazes from one another to glare at the cardbot who dared to imply something ridiculous in his words.
“Are you crazy?!”
“Mind your own business, you brats!”
Buster Gallon, ever the opportunist, steps into the conversation coolly. “If you don’t want us to interfere, get a room, then.”
Black Hook, in the tight position he’s currently in, stares at his former partner-in-crime after he said those words. His fury has been snuffed out, quickly replaced with bewilderment.
“Buster Gallon— You little—”
At long last, Heavy Iron gives Black Hook a moment of freedom by taking one step towards Buster Gallon, earning him a surprised but oddly relieved look from the pirate. He looms over the smaller green cardbot threateningly, optics shining so bright they could blind him. Still, despite the act of intimidation, Buster Gallon’s challenging look does not falter even for a fraction of a second.
“Just gently reminding you that you’re in a public space.”
“Don’t think I’m not aware of what you’re insinuating.”
“That you two discuss your delicate matters somewhere more private?”
“You are implying something more.”
“Aha,” Buster Gallon’s tone turns cheeky, “ you said that. Not me.”
Heat begins to creep up Heavy Iron’s face. “Whatever nonsense you’re thinking in that head of yours, I suggest you throw it away before I make you do it!”
“Sorry, old man.” Buster Gallon shrugs. “Hard not to. You’re not as careful as you think you are.”
“Do you take pleasure in entertaining these sick perversions of yours?”
“I don’t, but I bet someone else does.”
“Whoa. Never thought Heavy Iron is such a protective boyfriend.”
Before Heavy Iron can reply (or raise one of his arms to prepare his sword, who knows, the mech’s hard to read), Shadow X just had to butt in. Obviously, the helicopter alt-moder is just in for the fun and has little to no idea what’s going on, nor does he care about the increasingly suspicious arrangement between the two older mechs, but boy does his words manage to fuel the intense emotions within them even more than Buster Gallon’s did.
“Boy—BOYFRIEND!” Black Hook’s quicker to reply than Heavy Iron, his words coming out in sputters. He spreads his arms in exasperation, accentuating his heightening voice. “BOYFRIEND!! What nonsense are you—?!”
“Someone's shy!” Shadow X teases.
“ He is not my boyfriend! !”
“Haha, look! Your face’s all red!”
Even to anyone standing farthest away from him, they can see the reddening patch of metallic skin peeking out of Black Hook’s face mask, visible through its chipped part under his left optic. His cheeks are burning — obviously it’s from exasperation and confusion, given the inescapable situation at hand, but Shadow X (and the rest of the cardbots who are NOT helping at all) prefer to take it as something else.
Heavy Iron, despite teeming with rage since the beginning of this debacle, is starting to get some sick enjoyment from all this.
“He is NOT my boyfriend, you— you CHILD!”
“We all saw that wall slam, captain.”
“And?!”
“You liked that, didn't you?”
“I did NOT.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I AM NOT!”
“You’re blushing!”
Unable to fight back against the younger cardbots, Black Hook turns to look at Heavy Iron. His only source of solace, unfortunately. “Oi, Heavy Iron! Tell this kid to fuck off!”
(Bluecop managed to cover Jun’s ears just in time.)
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” He growls at Black Hook, then turns to look down on the cardbots who’ve dared to guffaw at them and makes a “shoo”-ing motion with his servo, not dissimilar to how one would scare insects away. “Go away. Leave us alone.”
Wrong choice of words. Shadow X’s already jolly optics turn even more upwards at Heavy Iron’s response.
“Aww,”
“That is so cute.”
“Why would you say that?!” Black Hook hysterically whispers to Heavy Iron.
“Wait, so are they really together, or no?” Poor, oblivious Phoenix Fire is currently talking to Dexter. But alas, his genuine curiosity is misinterpreted as another mockery similar to what his allies are doing.
“WE ARE NOT! What’s with all you kids today?! Where are you sick freaks getting these assumptions from?! We are arguing! FIGHTING! You brats are trying to get a rise out of us, aren’t you?!”
“You would catch me dead first than ending up stuck with someone, especially someone like him.” Heavy Iron crosses his arms.
“Tough luck, Heavy Iron.” Black Hook laughs bitterly. “You’re stuck with me forever.”
Fleta Z winces at that display of resentment.
“Yikes,” he mutters.
“It’s going pretty baaaad.” Shadow X whispers to Phoenix Fire.
“Shadow X!” Phoenix Fire whispers back, flustered.
“Why would you assume that? It just looks like they’re fighting to me.” Buffalo Crush shrugs. “Typical arch-nemesis activities! Where’s everyone getting the relationship vibes from him and Captain?”
Black Hook’s heart sank to his aft.
No. Not Buffalo Crush.
“Not to mention — a pirate and an outlaw being together – do you all know what dangerous implications it holds? Barely thinking about how damned we all are if it were to be true… this is what I’ve feared the most after getting too chummy with them.” Wild Guardy says. To the untrained ears, one would assume that he is still his doubtful, albeit heroic self, but knowing the issue at hand, he sounds much more at edge. Some of his friends looks at him with concern, though, because they do understand where he’s coming from.
Heavy Iron’s not too pleased at the two popular opinions being thrown back and forth, though. Both the assumption that they are in an active relationship that’s going through some rough hurdles, and the notion that they are merely enemies who are oblivious to the homoerotic tension they’re bringing alongside their mutual hatred.
None of you know anything about us , he wants to say, but he has to make sure Black Hook is at least at arms’ length. He needs to say something (of course he has to, that hypocrite) and can’t let that pirate run his intake dry by bringing more attention due to his outburst.
“What are you idiots talking about over there?” Heavy Iron growls. “And how did you all come to that conclusion, hm? Do tell. I’m deathly curious.”
At the oppressive force Heavy Iron brought down with his voice, Phoenix Fire braves himself through this sea of uncertainty and decides to become the voice of reason. “Do you two… ever…” he starts off carefully, wringing his hands together nervously, “… argue with someone else? Anyone?”
“Pah! Where’s the fun in that?” Black Hook scoffs. “Everyone else just runs away cowering or begging for their lives. Or have nothing of value to argue about. You included, Phoenix Fire. You know the kind of person I am – an outlaw with piles of bodies to my name – so you’d all assume I’d look like a cardbot off Cosmic Stones if I didn’t get to argue with someone for a day. And you’re all damn right!”
Dexter leans over to a comically serious-looking Fleta Z. “He’s looking for enrichment,” he whispers.
“Old people stuff,” Shadow X quietly says to no one.
“Criminal reformation! Being in tune with your emotions! All that emotional young people crap is being suggested, nay, shoved down the intake of an old-timer like me! No, I am actually very emotionally adept and mentally sound, thank you very much! So what if I slipped every now and then?! Do you think me trying to be on good terms with Heavy Iron meant I am up to no good? Or am I an exception to good faith reading to all you law abiding citizens?!”
A trait everyone who’s ever crossed Black Hook immediately remembers is the way he wears his heart on his sleeves. He has stolen, ransacked, terrorized, to the point one shouldn’t be surprised if they look into a Machinian Dictionary and find his mugshot being shown right beside the definition of larceny, but he’s as subtle as a brick to the face when it comes to showing how he feels. So now? Everyone in the hangar is looking at him with some sort of mix between guilt and utter confusion.
At that, Heavy Iron’s cold heart feels a tiny twinge of remorse and thinks, Well, you’re not the only one.
And at that, Heavy Iron’s mouth says ,
“Bunch of nonsense,”
“Because this gentleman right here,” Black Hook side-eyes Heavy Iron, “who thinks he’s just so better than me, shares the same sentiment as you all! Yet here he stands, an outcast who can’t properly talk to anyone else but the person he passionately hates!”
Heavy Iron blinks in disbelief. “You–”
“What, cat got your tongue?”
“Ah, I get it now.” Bluecop, who has been listening intently in order to reach a formulative, cohesive conclusion of everything that had transpired in the hangar, nods. Wild Guardy, who’s been standing beside him with his arms folded, kept staring at the two senior cardbots in skepticism, optics narrowed as per usual.
“Control yourself, Black Hook.” Heavy Iron says, voice not as loud as it was moments ago.
“Right, then! I don’t care anymore! You win!” Black Hook throws his arm up in a fashion akin to surrendering and turns to the still slack-jawed Jun. “Boy! Seal me!”
“Black Hook!”
“Jun!”
“Jun. Come on.”
At Bluecop’s command, Jun stretches out his right arm and recalls Heavy Iron and Black Hook back to the Metal Breath. He was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to take in Black Hook’s rant and the way Heavy Iron’s bravado appears to be chipped away with every word said.
Jun sighs and turns around to face the bewildered (and some disappointed) cardbots standing idly.
“Uhm. Uh, crisis averted, everyone!” He laughs awkwardly.
“Yeah, good call, Jun.” Fleta Z replies. With the embarrassing silence broken, other cardbots follow suit in tapping each other’s shoulders and laughing off the tension that Black Hook had suddenly brought to the hangar.
“I have to go talk to them, huh…” He wearily ruffles his hair. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“It’s not your fault, Jun. I believe it’s better to let them calm down for now.” Bluecop says. “Or ask your parents. They are married, no?”
“Eek! No way! Mom’s gonna chew me out again!”
While everyone is busy getting back to the rhythm of doing what they were tasked to do and moving what they were told to move, a lone Mega Trucker looks back at the spot where Black Hook and Heavy Iron were arguing.
“Would you look at that,” Mega Trucker whistles, looking at the wide dent left on the hangar’s wall where Black Hook was pushed against. “they sure were rough today, huh.”
The hangar goes quiet once more, much to Mega Trucker’s confusion.
“What?”
—
The sun has set by the time Jun lets the two menaces out of their prison. Being the good boy with good-faith reading he is, at Heavy Iron’s request, he’s positive that they’ll properly sort out the altercation from that afternoon. A mere few hours will never be enough to subdue the raging emotions threatening to burst out of their chassis, but Jun’s too tired to think.
“For what reason?” Jun asks, trying to suppress the slight terror in his gut.
“...”
Jun raises an eyebrow at the silence. “Heavy Iron?”
“...I have to talk to Black Hook.”
“Ah,” Jun nods in understanding. “You guys finally sorting things out?”
“It’s too cramped. Being stuck in here won’t do any good for his anger.”
“Gimme a minute.”
“Just the two of us.”
“Okay. Bluecop, let’s park here.”
And at that, Bluecop comes to a halt at the clearing right outside of the forest.
“You two know the path home, right?” Bluecop asks, having let Jun out and transformed back into his root mode.
“We have been here before.” Heavy Iron replies.
“Alright! Heavy Iron, Black Hook, set up!”
One at a time, the aforementioned cardbots are let out of the Metal Breath. Heavy Iron feels relieved at the sensation of his pedes being on firm ground, but the same cannot be said for Black Hook, whose silence is giving away his displeasure at being summoned against his will.
“Please don’t destroy anything,” Jun sighs, “I don’t wanna end up in the news again.”
“Have some faith in us, boy.”
“I know! You guys are becoming better. But you two always argue and… eh, whatever. Just don’t cause trouble, okay?”
“Of course.”
“I mean it!”
Heavy Iron closed his optics in annoyance. “Right.”
During the short exchange between Jun and Heavy Iron, the former must’ve noticed how uncharacteristically quiet Black Hook has been. Still, in this moment, Jun “let’s all be friends” Grant displays an emotional intelligence akin to a saint and decides against commenting on how this big robot a hundred thousand times his age is sulking .
As the police car goes farther out of his sight, Heavy Iron turns to look at Black Hook, accidentally locking gazes with each other.
Black Hook narrows his optics at Heavy Iron, then looks away with a “hmph” and proceeds to sit cross legged on the grass. His body language is as straightforward as it can be. Thank Deus Machina the other cardbots aren’t here to harass them.
“We have to talk.” Heavy Iron starts.
“Oh, really.” Black Hook replies, disinterested.
Not that it helps the awkwardness currently circling them both.
“Yes. This is… this is getting ridiculous, Black Hook. You have to agree.”
“What’s ridiculous?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know damn well what I’m talking about. All of this. We fight every time we’re in the same vicinity.”
“And here I thought you’re relishing in the violence.”
“I’m not as shallow as you love to assume.”
“Sorry,” Black Hook says sarcastically, “can we now hold hands and sing about forgiveness and friendship?”
Seems like his rant earlier that day was nothing more than an outburst.
“Black Hook. Will you just – can’t you understand what I’m getting at?!”
“Well, I–!” Black Hook attempts to fight back, voice wavering in surprise at Heavy Iron’s growing irritation. “I don’t think you know anything, actually!”
“You couldn’t be enjoying the destruction of your reputation this much! All for the sake of bringing me down, you’re setting yourself up as material for their mockery! What the hell is up with you?!”
Black Hook raises an optic ridge. “You’re not making any sense.”
“These lies. They’re – are you really letting them walk all over your pride like this?”
“Of course I don’t, you oaf!”
Heavy Iron narrows his optics. “Yet you’re giving up this easily.”
“What is there to give up on?!” Black Hook throws his arms up. “The moment I get serious, you know how they are, they’ll assume I’m back to being my antagonistic self! You know what kind of individuals we are, Heavy Iron!”
Heavy Iron forces out a noise that sounds like an ugly mix of laughter and cough.
“Stop being fucking cryptic and just tell me what you want to say!”
“You still want to play house with me, then.”
As Black Hook was about to form a sentence in retaliation, Heavy Iron’s confession dawned upon him like an electric pole being stabbed directly into his processor. Black Hook’s optics widen in abject horror, and for the first time after the dispute from afternoon, he turns around to look up at Heavy Iron.
“The rumors,” Black Hook says, much, much slowly, “about our supposed domestic dispute.”
“Yes?”
“You knew?!”
“More than you assume.”
“All along?!”
“Yes.”
Black Hook rests a servo on his helm. “How long has this–”
“Roughly two weeks.”
“You knew. All along. That they thought something else was going on. Between us two?”
Heavy Iron’s annoyed silence gives the answer away.
Black Hook squeezes both sides of his own helm. “And you didn’t even bother to tell me?!”
“Why should I be telling you?”
“Because I don’t know! You never tell me anything!”
Heavy Iron blinks. Hold on.
Black Hook’s not fucking with him? He’s truly, wholly oblivious? He wasn’t just being his usual loud, annoying, I-can’t-stop-bringing-attention-to-myself self?
Yet instead of asking for clarification, Heavy Iron shakes his helm as though he’s taunting Black Hook. “And you never listen.”
“ You never tell me anything, Heavy Iron!”
“I thought you’d known everything already. Or are your audials not big enough to pick up on the words those brats have been exchanging?”
“None of their words are of value!”
“And not because you can’t keep your intake shut for a minute?”
“Great. No wonder they can’t talk about me without mentioning your damn designation every five sentences.” Black Hook bitterly cackles, a far cry from his usual display of deviousness. “You’re so damn impossible! And now what, you’re gonna rope me into beating the lies out of them?”
“I have something else in mind.”
“Go ahead! Talk. It’s not like I can listen anyway.”
He really has to choose his words carefully this time.
“We will make them eat those words.”
Black Hook laughs dryly. “We?”
“We are the subjects of their mockery. Not only me, not only you. Words fail. The most logical plan is to take direct action.”
“And have that boy keep us in the Metal Breath for, what, a whole month? Go do that yourself.” Black Hook spat.
“I’m not talking about ripping them apart, Black Hook.”
“Then what?!”
This is it. The grand plan he has been brewing inside his processor for almost an entire day. A proposition most deadly – far more daring than any of their adventures, far more vicious than any of their heists. A mission so daunting because this time, instead of easily going for their weapon cards or smashing some bot into the ground at the first sign of inconvenience, they’ll have to link their processors together and dig up whatever emotional intelligence they have left.
Here goes nothing.
“Get into a relationship.”
Black Hook snaps his head around so quickly. An expression of what Heavy Iron can assume is a mix of horror and ridiculousness, appropriate for this incriminating topic, is etched onto his face.
“What,” Black Hook’s voice is uncharacteristically soft…
“They want to–”
“I’m sorry, what. What?!”... and crescendos into a full blown shout.
As if it’ll make this situation any better, Heavy Iron offlines his optics and prays to Deus Machina for the first time since his first kill. “We have to get into a relationship.”
That sentence appears to be the incentive that pushes Black Hook to stand up and walk towards Heavy Iron. His steps never changed, Heavy Iron muses, still the same after all these millenia – a stubborn, intimidating gait, suitable for his build and infamy, so familiar it’s permanently etched onto his memory banks. Yet this time, despite Heavy Iron constantly patting himself on his own back for never taking anything to heart, he knows that this small, insignificant bit of familiarity, coupled with his dim optics, yells danger .
Black Hook is mad.
“Do you have some kind of processor damage?”
Calm down, Heavy Iron. Calm down.
Control yourself.
“I do not.”
“You are just so funny, Heavy Iron.” Something scary laces Black Hook’s tone, like this time he’s actually going to hack Heavy Iron brutally into pieces if he chooses the wrong words. “I know you see everything as a joke, but wow. You really are–”
“Listen to me, Black Hook!”
Once more, Black Hook is stunned into being silent.
“I’m being serious!” Heavy Iron exhales – he’s been doing that a lot lately. “Can’t you see I’m being serious right now? Do I look like I’m enjoying this idea?!”
Black Hook rolls his optics. “Obviously.”
“I’m not like you.”
“Just get to the point.”
“These rumors aren’t stopping any time. Dare I say that they’ll grow worse if we keep denying them.” Noticing how casual his words flow out, he adds, “I am speaking from a logical perspective.”
Unfortunately, when it comes to anything remotely related to emotions, Black Hook is the quickest out of the two to notice. He slightly widens his optics, their brightness increasing to their usual level.
“Oh?“
“Don’t get too cocky,” Heavy Iron quickly interrupts after seeing how sly Black Hook is getting, “all we have to do is act. You’re horrendous at being a leader, but you have managed to play the role of a neurotic captain with ideas above his station for thousands of years. We’ll just behave like how we always do around one another with the agreement that we don’t immediately try to kill each other the moment we’re in the same room”
Black Hook goes silent, contemplating Heavy Iron’s offer.
“Give me one good reason to trust you this time.”
Heavy Iron closes his optics again. He’s not going to ruin Black Hook’s mood and start from the bottom again.
Of course.
He has to be honest about everything, huh.
“This does not benefit solely me or you. In fact, we do not get anything materialistic out of doing this.”
A first. “Then why come up with this scheme?”
“The goal of this operation is to suppress. Rumors always come to an end when the genuinity of them is confirmed. Those brats will lose interest after they realize they don’t have anything else to speculate.”
A glint of mischievousness, fondness maybe, sparkles through Black Hook’s delighted optics.
“If it makes you happy, think of it as me doing you a favor.” What the hell. Sure. Anything to get on his good side. Doesn’t change the fact that Heavy Iron wants to grind the sentimental chunk of his processor that came up with that sentence into pieces of refined Machnasium granules.
A beat of silence follows suit after he said that, which just makes Heavy Iron fare worse. Neither of the two spoke, instead seeming like they’re fully taking in Heavy Iron’s plans. The standing mech, however tense he may be, reads Black Hook’s optics, trying to see if he really has to endure another thousand years of trading blows and insults with him after all.
“Can’t you just use your fists on them? That’ll shut them up real quick.” Black Hook eventually speaks. A purely rhetorical question – Black Hook just wants to see Heavy Iron flustered.
The latter is absolutely aware of this, but he has to be the bigger person for both of their sakes.
“That blue haired child put me on parole, you moron.”
“When has parole ever stopped you?”
“Ever since it took on the form of a damned wristband that can imprison me whenever it likes,” Heavy Iron scoffs, feeling more sour after being reminded that the Metal Breath exists, “and I still prefer my current position as someone to be respected over someone to be monitored.”
“Heavy Iron’s best idea after limiting his ability to heat-ray everything.” Black Hook says, tone noticeably lighter. “Hah! Fine, then. I’m on board your ridiculous plan!”
Heavy Iron blinks twice.
That quick?
Finally. Black Hook will agree to everything and shut up and Heavy Iron will have a moment of respite before it all goes haywire. Either Deus Machina still loves him after everything or Heavy Iron is just that good at appealing to the most stubborn cardbot he’s ever known. Still, Heavy Iron can’t just let his guard down nor will he immediately take this as a chance to congratulate himself. He’s not as oblivious as Black Hook. After all, this is–
“On one condition.”
Right. This is Machina’s most notorious pirate we’re talking about.
“I, Black Hook of Lower Tricathia, shall do all the talking.”
Right.
“I have expected you to say something of the sort.” Heavy Iron folds his arms. You better not think of anything funny , he thinks.
“As a couple, ” Black Hook states, “we have to be transparent about our opinions on each other. You’ve said plenty about me, so now it’s my turn.”
Like in a flip of a switch, Black Hook puts on his most dramatic one-man show.
“Oh, Heavy Iron, you are ridiculously, comically terrible at being patient. Too reckless, too brutish! Resorting to verbal and physical threats after pridefully believing you’ve done enough strategizing! Yes, I know how hard it must be for someone with circumstances like you to vocalize their ideas in a proper manner, it takes one to know one, my dear, so let your lover do it for you.”
Heavy Iron’s grip on both his forearms tighten. The pot calling the kettle black.
“You’re crazy if you think I’ll keep my mouth shut for your sake,” Heavy Iron growls, “and let you talk over me.”
“ You’re crazier for coming up with this plan in the first place!”
“I asked you to agree to it, not take control of it!”
Black Hook points a finger at Heavy Iron. “See? I told you – this is what I’m talking about! You take everything too seriously! I can’t even tell you to be quiet for a bit without you shooting daggers at me, do you genuinely think I’m able to wire your intake shut? Huh?”
“Us being the way we are, albeit more cordial, will be enough. I doubt any of them will believe whatever nonsensical story you’re selling.”
“And this is where you come in!” Black Hook says, completely ignoring Heavy Iron’s words. “Whatever you want to say or plan as part of this operation, you tell me all about it, then let me turn it into a believable story, excuses, whatever! Out of their audials’ ranges!”
“Maintaining secrecy in the midst of nosy cardbots who are surely, silently monitoring our behavior.” Heavy Iron says, challenging Black Hook’s idea. “Two with aerial altmodes, one with a cloaking ability. Do tell me how this isn’t going to backfire.”
“Be prepared to get your, as the humans say, socks blown off.”
“What.”
Right after that, Black Hook’s gravelly voice suddenly pops up in Heavy Iron’s head.
[Like this!]
Ah, right. Their commlink. A convenient, private communications system that’s established right after their formations – its existence is reminded after Heavy Iron got sealed inside Jun’s Metal Breath and he has to learn how to not solve anything with his fists.
[Knew you’d be surprised.]
[I’m not. I merely don’t find any reason to use my commlink after landing here.]
[You really thought I’m only good at never shutting up, huh? Stay corrected, Heavy Iron.]
[Why not discuss everything this way, then?]
[And have those rascals be all suspicious?! “Look, there’s Heavy Iron and Black Hook, standing far away from us moral civilians, silently looking at each other, discussing their world domination plans without us knowing!” They’ll change the tone of the rumors from romantic to skeptical!]
[Us being close is the point.]
[Heavy Iron. The more we force things, the more they’ll get suspicious.]
[Tch. Fair.]
That’s about it. Heavy Iron turns the system off.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself far too much.” He points out. Heavy Iron’s nowhere as excited as his partner in crime – in fact, his processor is thinking of the various ways this could go wrong, and the various ways he can kill Black Hook and then himself after all of this is said and done. Heavy Iron desperately wishes he was back at the landfill, back when he was left all alone in comfortable solitude, back when he was solely focused on his own self-preservation and not the whirlwind of melancholic emotions threatening his rationale.
Because it’s Black Hook. It’s always been Black Hook. Nothing’s ever easy with him.
“My dearest Heavy Iron,” Black Hook replies with delight, “It’s called “getting in character”.”
Two can play that game.
“You have your condition, I have mine as well,” Heavy Iron says way too forcefully, “no pet names.”
At that, Black Hook’s optics curved downwards. The joy in his chassis now has to make room for the sudden stab of reality. Right when things are getting fun, too. Heavy Iron suppressed a stiff cough at seeing Black Hook’s dejected look.
“Sweetheart? Love? Dear?”
“No.”
“Honey? Doll?”
“None of those either.”
“Why?!” Black Hook throws his arms up. “We’re married! How are we going to convince them that we’ve been hitched for a millenia if we can’t even use nicknames on each other?”
“Not married. We’re in a relationship. A fake relationship.” He is beginning to sound strained.
“Awww,” Black Hook coos. “Is my wittle Iron scared of intimacy?”
In instinct, Heavy Iron prepares his signature intimidation tactic – pressurizing his optics. For the hell of it, of course, he doesn’t need their operation to fall apart even before it starts.
“Kiddiiiing!” Black Hook giggles, jittery.
“Remember, Black Hook. No funny business. Stay on track. Everything will be the same. Just that we are now entangled romantically AND will suppress our longtime hostility towards one another until those brats shut up. I fall, you fall.”
“Yes, whatever you say, Heavy Iron. Don’t tell me what to do. I got this.”
Black Hook holds out an eager servo to his partner. In crime .
Oh, he is dead serious about this.
“With this, Operation: Distant Lovers is now in progress!” Black Hook declares like he just discovered a vaccine for Cosmic Rust. He even gave this scheme a name. “You may now shake servos with the groom.”
Rolling his optics, Heavy Iron takes Black Hook’s servo on his own, shaking it to seal the deal. He finds it oddly… endearing to see the pirate excited to be part of such an unserious plan that barely qualifies as a scheme adequate enough for reformed criminals of their caliber. Foolish, too, of course.
“If this all blows up, I’m pinning everything on you. Because this is your idiotic idea. Got it?”
Heavy Iron furrows his optic ridges. “Weren’t you courageously saying that you’ll handle all the talking?”
“You disagreed.”
“And what happened to “marriage”? You know, “in sickness and health”?”
“Didn’t you literally say no? Unless…”
“Black Hook. It doesn’t matter what we call it. We are partners now.”
“I was making another joke, you dummy! Ah, forget it. If you watch my back, I’ll watch yours.”
You and your wishy-washy, sappy nonsense , Heavy Iron glares at Black Hook. His servos roll into tight fists, then release. He’s not going to regret a decision he just made mere minutes ago. No, he’s going to go through with it. Everything will go smoothly, nothing will change except the status of their relationship, they'll fight much less than usual and save themselves from further humiliation from the cardbots that should’ve feared them months ago.
Idiotic idea be damned. His pride is on the line. And a small part of him, which is about to flicker and fade, is hoping that his arch-nemesis will have at least a bit of understanding of their situation.