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Hush limped through the halls of Sentinel’s Tower, her frame littered with dents and scratches. Energon leaked out of a particularly nasty cut on her arm and the upper plating in her left stabilizer was crumpled to the point it sent agonizing flares of pain shooting through Hush’s sensors anytime she put pressure on her it.
If Hush was being honest, she looked like she had been sent through the Iacon 5000, blindfolded, then fought the quintesson army for good measure.
Ugh, forget the comparison, Hush looked and felt like utter slag.
Though, racing in the Iacon 5000 and fighting quintesson’s probably would’ve been more fun, Hush grumbled. There was another burst of pain and Hush bit back a snarl.
Nevermind, it definitely would’ve been more fun.
Guards overlooked her and staff were quick to avert their optics. They all knew what that meant—training with Airachnid. In the beginning, bots looked at her with pity and a few more compassionate bots would ask if Hush needed them to fetch a medic. But now? Now it was normal to see Hush like this and they pretended like it was normal.
Hush ignored them. She didn’t need their pity. Pity was for those that were too weak to do anything but still wanted to feel like they were good bots for “caring”. So no, Hush didn’t want their insincerity.
All Hush wanted was to be better—to be stronger, faster, smarter. To ensure that no one could hurt Hush.
To make Sentinel proud.
Hush lifted her servo from the cut to see if self-repair had made any progress in mending it, hissing as it was jostled despite how carefully Hush moved.
It hadn’t.
Hush made an annoyed sound and recovered the wound with her servo.
It was Hush’s fault, really. She hadn’t been fast enough to dodge Airachnid’s appendage and the femme had left the ugly gash. Hush wished that had been the worst of it.
Airachnid had dealt Hush a series of devastating blows that left Hush on the ground disoriented and hurting. Hush had cried out her surrender but that didn’t stop Airachnid from pouncing on the downed femme. Something in Hush’s stabilizer made an ugly crunch that left Hush screaming and almost passing out from the intense, molten agony that racked her frame.
Though despite the two severe injuries and considering what Airachnid had done to Hush in the past, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been; just some torn plating, cut wires, and a nicked fuel line so Hush didn’t bother going to the medbay.
Not that going to medbay would’ve done any good. Unless it was serious or life threatening, Sentinel would lecture Hush for joors about how “she needed to learn resilience” and “she can’t run to the medbay for every minor thing that hurts” in a tone that made her spark clench and a look that had her kibble twitching.
Instead of medbay, Hush had stolen various tools and taught herself to mend the injuries self-repair couldn’t. It hurt like the Pit and it was ugly but it got the job done.
Then Hush started getting better.
She would hack into the security camera’s in medbay and did her best to mimic the medics on screen and absorbed what she could from the various medical datapads Hush had nabbed. Slowly, Hush improved; weld lines became neater, nanite gel applied more efficiently, joints realigned properly, and much more. Then she watched how to buff and polish plating from Sentinel’s frame technicians during his frequent full frame detailing sessions. Then just like that, Hush’s injuries vanished almost overnight.
But it still hurt.
It hasn’t stopped hurting since Sentinel had stolen Hush away from her habsuite in the early joors of the cycle to the sparring room for her first self defense lesson, all those vorns ago.
“I know you don’t want to do this, but this is for your own good,” Sentinel had crooned then. He cradled Hush’s face so gently that she could almost pretend that it was blue servos that held her so tenderly, not black with ill intentions. “I just want to keep you safe.”
Hush had looked up at him with her red optics from a creator she barely remembered, clinging to a desperate hope that this was just a joke, that Sentinel didn’t mean it.
But Sentinel threw her into the ring without a second thought and walked away, leaving a shaking terrified youngling at the mercy of Airachnid, her cruel smirk sealing Hush’s fate.
Hush gritted her denta and kept limping.
After what felt like an eternity, finally, finally, Hush could see her habsuite up ahead. Hush picked up the pace as much as she could, ready to fix herself and just rest. She punched in the code, smearing energon on the pad that Hush could honestly care less about, and squeezed herself inside before the door had finished opening.
The moment the door slid closed behind her, Hush sagged, the weight of her injuries and exhaustion finally taking hold of her frame in the one place she felt somewhat safe.
Hush’s hab wasn’t grand like Sentinel’s—it was almost boring with the berth against the middle of the back wall, a desk underneath a window, and a bookshelf both on the left. But what made it not completely boring was the giant archway that dropped into open air. Hush loved it. She could see the comings and goings of Iacon and it gave the illusion that Hush wasn’t trapped in a golden cage.
Her hab was simple but it was hers.
She let go of her arm and removed her helmet, sighing in relief. It had already started to feel itchy and was rubbing her uncomfortably before training with Airachnid but after? Hush wanted that thing off.
Hush placed it on her desk, flaring her sensory panels repeatedly to loosen the joints and make sure everything was operating correctly. Primus, that felt good.
Of course, Hush can’t ever just enjoy a good thing without something else happening. She scowled as warnings flashed across her HUD, pinging more insistently about the damage to her frame.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Hush grumbled sourly.
Hush hobbled over to the side of the berth furthest from the arch and awkwardly lowered (more like collapsed) herself onto Hush’s good knee. She unsubspaced her knife and wedged it underneath a wall panel. After some careful prying and a fair amount of wiggling, the panel popped out.
Hush had discovered the loose panel a long time ago when she was still a youngling during a boredom infused exploration of her hab for what felt like the millionth time. Since then, Hush had been using the hollowed out wall as a hiding place for whatever she deemed needed hiding; a plush of her sire, energon candies that she’ll treat herself to every now and then, her personal datapad, some secret weapons Hush kept in emergencies, a few picture of Hush and her sire that she had managed to nab before Sentinel had ordered the disposal of any High Guard and Prime personal effects, and a few other items. Just the important things that she didn’t want taken away.
Hush reached past all of that and grabbed the medkit, doing her best to not look at or think about anything related to her sire. She wedged the panel back into the wall just enough that it wouldn’t look out of place but it was easier to take out and put the medkit back when Hush was done with it.
The medkit was practically thrown on the berth and Hush followed in suit, pulling herself up with a pained grunt. If the pain wasn’t enough, her stabilizer creaked loudly, protesting the movement. Instead of collapsing in a ball of agony, Hush focused on directing every curse she knew at Airachnid.
“Primus forbid she just punch me or even give me another cut, oh no, that wouldn’t be violent enough for her,” Hush snarled as she wrenched open the medkit and grabbed a cleaning cloth. “No, instead, Airachnid had to pulverize my damn stabilizer.”
Hush began to carefully clean the gash on her arm, wiping away the energon. The other small cuts and dents stung but right now Hush just wanted to take care of her arm and stabilizer.
Inspecting the damaged area until Hush was satisfied that no energon lingered, she traded the cloth for a soldering iron. Hush stared at the tool, anxiety coiling around her spark. She hated this part. Every time.
“Primus, give me strength,” Hush prayed softly. She lowered her pain receptors and lifted the soldering iron to her wound.
It hurt. It hurt every single time but Hush was used to it so she powered through it. Reconnecting wires, closing slashed fuel lines (that were clamped off, of course. Hush had no desire to explode from inside out because she was careless), welding her frame back together slowly but surely.
When she was done, Hush wrapped the wound in mesh. It was still too volatile for Hush’s liking so Hush was going to wait until it was more healed before she did anything to the plating, lest she ruin all her work. At least wrapping it will help prevent it from rusting.
Hush looked at her stabilizer and grimaced.
Now the part that Hush was most worried about.
The plating had caved in so Hush took extra care in removing the armor until—oh thank Primus. Airachnid hadn’t damaged any internals like Hush had initially thought, but she had bent the armor that protected it so badly that it was digging into her protoform.
“She’s getting more vicious.” A voice said from out of sight.
Hush looked over at her window, already knowing who it was. Sure enough, there was Carnage perched on the ledge that had been empty moments before.
Hush turned back to her stabilizer and the damaged plating. “She’s always vicious,” she replied stiffly.
Carnage leapt down from his perch and crossed the room in a few strides. “You know what I mean.”
She did.
Carnage padded to her side, tail flicking as he inspected Hush’s battered frame. Hush watched him with something akin to bemusement. Hush wasn’t the tiny sparkling he had found on the roof all those vorns ago but Carnage still treated her as if she was.
The cybercat studied the mesh covering her arm, audial twitching, but outright hissed when he saw her stabilizer.
“I’m going to slaughter her,” he yowled, tail lashing and armor flared.
“You will not,” Hush said sternly. “It was my fault, I was too slow in evad—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll give you something to really worry about,” Carnage cut her off with a furious snarl. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for her brutality.”
Hush narrowed her optics but kept her intake shut. It wouldn’t accomplish anything but work Carnage into a rage. “Reguardless, I still need to repair my stabilizer, so if you please—” She gestured for Carnage to move aside so Hush could grab the medkit.
Carnage stared at Hush, claws digging into the berth. “You are not going to repair yourself. This is much more complicated than slashed wires and cracked plating. You need proper medical attention from actual medics.”
“I’m well aware, Carnage, but Sentinel doesn’t approve of me going to the medics.”
“It won’t be you going to the medics, it’ll be me threatening to slit their cabling if they don’t fix my host. If Sentinel has a problem with that, I’ll purge on his berth. Again.”
“Do not purge on his berth or he’ll make good on his promise to shoot you,” Hush admonished. Sometimes that cybercat had too much confidence in himself for his own good, and while Hush knew he could take care of himself, Carnage's constant testing of the limits put her on edge.
“If Sentinel acts properly, then there won’t be any need for it.” Carnage said smoothly, curling his tail around his paws neatly as he sat. “Besides, it’s not as if he could catch me."
“Carnage.”
“Before I get the medic,” Carnage said, pretending he didn’t hear Hush, the little glitch. “I brought something for you.” Carnage dropped off the berth and crawled below it.
Hush made a face that was a cross between disapproving and resignation. “Carnage, please stop bringing me dead glitchmice.”
“It’s not.” Was Carnage’s muffled reply, saturated with pure grouchiness. Hush rolled her optics as she heard Carnage grumble something about “ungrateful kit” and “this is the thanks I get for trying to provide”.
Finally, Carnage crawled out from underneath the berth, carrying a metal cube in his maw. He placed it next to Hush and seeing it up close, Hush could see buttons with symbols on one side but other than that, it was just a servo sized cube—absolutely nothing extraordinary about it.
Hush stared at it, unimpressed. “What is it?”
Carnage flicked her with his tail, less than pleased with Hush’s lackadaisical attitude. “It’s a device that mimics certain weather on organic planets. I came across two scientists playing around with it in the labs. I assumed you would find it interesting.”
Hush looked back at the cube with renewed interest. “Organic weather? What could anyone possibly use this for?”
Carnage studied his claws with a disinterested air, the razor sharp edges gleaming in the dying light. “Haven’t the faintest clue. The scientists mentioned something about it being one of the old Prime’s experiments they dug out from the archives.”
Hush picked up the object gingerly. It didn’t do anything—didn’t rattle, glow ominously, shake violently, or anything of the sort. Just sat there in Hush’s servo, perfectly innocent.
“Let me.” Carnage grabbed the cube again and placed it on the berth. He raised a claw to one of the buttons and jabbed it.
Hush watched apprehensively as the cube made a grinding noise before the top spiraled open. Clouds, something that Hush had only seen in pictures, spilled out and gathered at the ceiling.
“Carnage,” Hush said, looking back at Carnage with wide optics. “What did you press?”
“You’ll see,” he replied, unbothered.
Hush returned her gaze upwards, her focus solely on the dark clouds as they roiled and thrashed, she almost missed the small white particles—a stark contrast to the clouds they emerged from—that floated down slowly, as if gravity's order was something to heed at its leisure.
Hush had never seen anything like it before.
Hush’s sensory panels unfurled and collected the data that spilled in, informing Hush of the change of pressure and the steady drop in temperature. Hush cycled her optics curiously.
Hush watched the white flecks ever so softly fall from the clouds. “What is this?”
“Cold.”
A fluff landed on Hush and her armor flattened against her protoform immediately, not expecting it to be so brisk. “I hadn’t noticed,” she deadpanned.
Carnage swatted her. “Don’t get smart with me, kit.”
Hush wanted to answer but the flurries began to pick up speed, falling quicker by the nanoklick. She held out a servo, field buzzing with awe as the cold flecks melted immediately on contact. That awe melted into delight as a gust of wind from outside sent the flecks dancing, the sunlight making it sparkle with more beauty than the lights of Iacon during nightcycle.
It was magical.
“The scientist called it snow,” Carnage said as he stood up. He shook his frame, violently removing any snow that had managed to stick to his plating and maybe even to stop the cold from seeping down to his protoform. “I’m going to go fetch the medics. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Wait.” Hush reached out to stop Carnage from leaving.
He looked at her expectantly.
“Do you…” Hush started hesitantly. “Do you think you could hold off on that? Just for a little bit?”
Carnage stared at her, yellow optics glowing warmly before butting her uninjured arm. “Of course, little one.”
Hush cracked a small smile, something so rarely seen. “Thank you, Carnage.”
Her cassette made a noise that Hush would hesitantly be described as a purr. “Anything for you, kit.”
Vorns later, looking back at that memory, viewed so many times the edges of the file had worn down into something soft and fond, Hush thinks that was one of the happiest moments of her life.