Chapter Text
*Animated Universe*
Team Char was redeployed to the location of space bridge 687-030, the same location where this group had previously defeated Rodimus Prime's team; their current mission was a bit more complex, the attack being a distraction to kidnap an elusive agent who was able to cure the cosmic oxide infection with which they had defeated the aforementioned Prime.
Intelligence reports mentioned a small-framed Autobot, white and cerulean blue in color, who always hides his face behind a combat mask and has a long list of feats and studies that is hard to believe; but he had shown his worth and the high command had assigned him to the Athenia team with a high position in combat engineering because of his skills, knowledge and for saving the commander of the aforementioned team.
The plan was to overwhelm them with numbers by integrating a large number of generic agents so that this mysterious agent would reveal himself; although the files did not have direct descriptions of his combat abilities; therefore, they assume that he will not appear on the front line nor surprise them with any anomalous ability.
Rumors said he was a genius from another time, with knowledge lost in science and medicine; that he was part ofandAn elite commando group that explored the universe neutralizing dangerous threats from an unknown past; someone like that should be nearby to act, but not too close to be an obvious target.
Such an element had to be captured and studied; they had to interrogate it. If that knowledge fell into the hands of the Decepticons, perhaps they could do something better than the space bridges; perhaps they could annihilate all the Autobots without having to lift a finger with a new strain of rust.
The assault progressed as expected; they had enough strength to reach the vicinity of the space bridge. Strika confronted Rodimus Prime so that the bulk of his support troops could go directly to the space tunnel.
Cyclonus, the great purple jet, was the Decepticon tasked with completing the mission. Due to his skill, speed, agility, and air superiority, he was the ideal Warframe for the task of extracting an enemy agent without eliminating him.
In the midst of the fight, he noticed something out of place; there was a small robot at the base of the bridge typing on the interface. It didn't look like a soldier; its armor and equipment left much to be desired. But it must be the target since it matched the description: a white and blue minibot with a mask. Although it gave him a strange feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
His instincts were irrelevant to the mission, so Cyclonus lunged to disable and capture the target, but a couple of meters from his target, a white light enveloped him.
/
On the other side of the portal the view was very discouraging; it appeared to be a sea of rust, the most hostile metallic biome composed almost entirely of an ocean of sand made from corroded and oxidized metal filings.
The warframe crashed into a dune of rusty iron filings that hid a large metal piece that tore off one of its wings. A hard, dry blow caused one of its horns to fly off on impact as it tried to transform and regain control before finally falling half-stuck in a sand pit.
Unfortunately for him, it was the softest and most shifting pit in the rust sea. It started with his legs, which were buried in his attempts to ease the landing. His thrusters quickly broke down, and before he knew it, half his body was submerged up to his chest, and every movement made him sink deeper and deeper. Iron filings got into his crevices, leaving his lower limbs semi-paralyzed and with a horrible tingling sensation.
—GHA!!!— he groans as his body sinks another inch into the sand; clawing at the surroundings does little to free him. —...— He stops, listening as his ventilation begins to accelerate, his spark spins, and a panic attack sets in. He curses inwardly because a highly aggressive block of self-preservation code has been uncommented and is wreaking havoc on his systems. —“Now what? Am I just going to be stuck in a hole in the sand for the rest of my short life, slowly shutting down each system while the rust advances, rotting away at the spark, and where no one will hear me scream as I turn into rusty scum. And even if they did, it won’t do any good because you’re on a planet where no sane being would set foot, and worse, if they did, you’re a Decepticon. They’ll blow your head off without even stopping to ask…!” — A voice pulls him from his recursive, panicky thoughts.
— Are you alright? — The small white robot appears in the distance, its shiny armor with blue details showing no trace of rust
—The surprise manages to pull him out of the loop, regaining control of his systems to divert his resources from the unnecessary code of fear and become hostile. His face doesn't change one degree; even in his panic, his face always looks hard and inflexible. —Did you come to finish the job? Autobot? — He keeps his hands in an optimal position to grab and tear at close range.
—Finish…? Oh, no, no, not at all. I came this way, you seemed scared and needed help… I mean, no! I'm not saying you should be afraid, although being afraid isn't a bad thing, especially in a situation like this. Who wouldn't be afraid of ending up alone, trapped in a hole with no way out? —The minibot moved its hands a lot, touching its fingers, shrinking back and trying not to look directly at the other. Its posture was low and its movements clumsy for someone who only spoke.
—[He's a charlatan, a smooth talker, and he's probably trying to deceive you]— the jet's HUD thought as it formulated its response — What do you want? — it said, fixing its piercing red eyes in a murderous sneer
—...— he stands up straight and calms his temper — I want to help you, you know, to get out of there
—Why?— There was no change in his voice; it was deep and monotonous. He wouldn't give in to something as pathetic as sentimentality.
—You need help— He doesn't hesitate, extending his hand. It's quite close to where Cyclonus could tear it off if he wanted to.
—“Do you have a better way out? What if he just wants to get close to attack you? He won’t get away with it.”—he tenses up— If you come any closer, I’ll kill you.
—If I don't get closer...– He touches his fingers to gather courage, raising his gaze so their eyes meet and he doesn't look away again –You'll die...– He walks across the sand without sinking, straight until he stands in front of the sunken Decepticon
—... — makes no sound as the Autobot transforms into a small car, then drives around the large Decepticon, causing layers of sand to disappear and slowly unearthing the large purple jet.
Both remain silent. Cyclonus keeps his questions to himself and stares intently at the vehicle until he manages to get out. He then proceeds to walk away from the area with an awkward limp due to the metal filings that got under his armor. Noticing his enemy approaching, he draws his swords and threatens him.
—Relax— the car transforms and raises its hands in a gesture of helplessness —Your legs look a bit rusty, let me help you.— It pulls out a polisher, making Cyclonus momentarily alarmed —Calm down, it's an anti-rust, I already used it on myself.— It rubs the scouring pad over its armor, covering it with the substance. —See? Harmless, this even removes cosmic rust, literally. I did it once.
— “Is this really the Autobot agent we were looking for? … If so, what does he want from me? It’s best to keep my guard up until I have the upper hand. For now, we’ll have to negotiate. The rust will finish me off before I can even come up with a plan if I don’t use an antioxidant.” — We’re enemies. What are you trying to achieve? — Cyclonus had never had such a long conversation with the enemy, or with anyone for that matter. He didn’t talk, he only attacked. But for his mission, he needed the agent, preferably alive. Besides, the little guy’s behavior was strange. If he was some kind of deserter, he had to make his intentions clear.
—I… — The Autobot paused for a moment, pondering his answer — I don't see the point in fighting you over this planet, so we're not enemies.
—If you try anything, I'll kill you.
—... —he lowers his gaze for a moment and raises it to proclaim— Could you do it quickly? If I stayed here alone, I'm sure I'd have an agonizing, slow, and painful death— He moves towards Cyclonus and begins to treat his leg, cleaning it, removing the sand, and applying the antioxidant without trembling or hesitating
—…— Had he asked him to kill him? Wasn't he afraid of death or of him? At least there was mutual need there, he could understand that, although it was still strange— Don't ask me for favors later, Autobot— He sheathed his swords, puzzled.
—Okay, my name is Tailgate; by the way
—Cyclonus
The jet could switch to its alternate mode, but it couldn't fly without a wing and its thrusters were fried, so they both had to walk. Their best chance now is to find a living bot among the signals they managed to track; with any luck, it might be carrying some kind of long-range radio or supplies. The signals are scattered across the planet. It's a long and silent walk, or it would be if Tailgate knew when someone wasn't interested in having a conversation, or in this case, listening to a monologue. And he does talk, he talks as if his vocalizer is going to shut down if he doesn't use it every single bit (second). It's not even a conversation that serves any strategic purpose; he talks about absurd and nonsensical things, asking about his favorite things, if he had a hobby, his age, or useless nonsense like that.
—I wouldn't know what to say about my age, because I was deactivated for a while, lost in a hole, and they reactivated me. So, do I count the time I was deactivated or not? I mean, I wasn't really aware of when I deactivated. My internal clock malfunctioned, but I was a very important person for a few million cycles. Maybe you don't know what things were like before— he continued talking about random things he had done, places he had been, but he mentions places that don't even exist now for comparison.
Cyclonus stops, causing the minibot to stumble over him. — I know you must think we're partners or something, but you're wrong. You're a noisy nuisance who won't shut up— He sounds increasingly annoyed with each word— I don't care who you are or where you come from. I think you're a pathetic, weak robot. The only reason I tolerate you around is because you're useful to me. Now you'd better shut your mouth if you don't want me to reconsider stabbing you in the spark to make you be quiet.
Tailgate lowered his head, his visor clouding over, and he hunched sadly. —I'm sorry...— He didn't make another sound for the rest of the way.
After a long search, Cyclonus had reached the location of three of the signals, but all were dead. A couple had been killed by creatures that devoured their energon, and the third had crushed his head in the fall. The Decepticon prepared a bonfire with their remains. The rusted energon wasn't safe to consume, but it still burned well, providing some light and warmth in the night.
"What are you going to do? If everyone was dead today, tomorrow will surely be the same. Nobody survives two days in this hell. Are you going to stay here and rust away until you die? Or something worse…?" — Cyclonus hated that residual self-preservation code. It didn't preserve him; it made him feel unjustified panic about everything around him— "I'm sure I'll die of hunger, or from a disease, or that Autobot will kill you in your sleep; he'll stab me with my own swords, or he poisoned the antioxidant and you're already dying a slow, suffocating death…"
—¿Cyclonus?
—In a swift movement, he points one of his swords directly at the spark chamber—… He should be angry, he should be focused on his duty, thinking about how to sever every limb and drag him back to Char so he reveals all his secrets, that's what he should be doing; but when he saw his sad blue visor and felt his field, something superior was preventing him, and he didn't know what it could be
—Can't you recharge? Are you worried your tank will run dry while you sleep?— he says, a little nervously. You can hear his armor creaking slightly from the way Tailgate is trembling.
—Cyclonus is expressionless, he doesn't move an inch, nor does he repeat his threat— “He's trembling, he's afraid of me, he knows I could kill him, he should back away, far away, but he keeps coming back. Why does he insist?”
—Don't worry, I've got something here—he opens an arm compartment and pulls out a couple of bite-sized energon cubes—here, take one; I'm 95% cargo space so I stocked up on food—his visor curves into a smile as he hands him the cubes.
—... — he puts away his sword and takes one, then looks at Tailgate —"He's smiling, why is he smiling at me? Did he poison him?"— he thought, staring more intently at the little bot. Cyclonus takes the farthest cube, assuming the other one was poisoned
—The little Autobot opens his face compartment and drops the cube— Mmm, this is delicious! —The minibot beams with happiness.
—Cyclonus ate after that and indeed the cube was tasty and invigorating— how did you know he was awake?
—I'm sensitive to other people's electromagnetic fields, I thought you were having a nightmare, you were scared
—Cyclonus tenses, realizing that the small white robot has always known when he felt that great fear, even if his face didn't show it— "That's why he isn't afraid of you. He thinks you're a coward, that he can manipulate everything to his advantage, that you're weak."— You're talking nonsense. I'm not afraid of anything.
—I know, I didn't mean to offend you— he stammers, gesturing with his hands as he tries to explain. —It's just the countryside; it reminded me of another robot, a Decepticon, actually. I know you don't like me talking about my stories, but...
—... — he fixes his gaze on him without saying anything, controlling his spark and showing no sign of fear
—In the sector where I was, they said there was a very dangerous and elusive Decepticon lurking around. While... while the others were searching, they left me alone since I was still being evaluated. I sensed someone was scared, so I looked for them and fell into a hole—Tailgate shuddered, acting out the moment—and at the bottom I found a terrified purple jet—he lowered his chin, clasped his hands, and raised his shoulders, mimicking the Decepticon's frightened posture—when I saw him alone… alone…I just… I couldn't turn him in—he straightened up again—I didn't want to
—That story doesn't make sense. Why would you help your enemy?— His two red eyes remained fixed on the Autobot.
—That's the point. In my time, there were no Autobots and Decepticons. We weren't enemies. You're a Warframe, that doesn't make you evil or dangerous. And that jet was so scared of me it couldn't even point its weapons at me. It had guns strapped to its arms and didn't even try. It was just trembling and muttering about how it was going to die.— The little one shifted, gesturing and pacing in circles without looking at Cyclonus. He finally sat down near the fire and gazed at the sky. —I just sat close, spoke to him calmly, gave him something to eat. He didn't tell me his name, didn't ask mine, but he calmed down and I felt... comfortable, very comfortable with him.
—Cyclonus analyzes that this is exactly what he did to him, and it was effective at nullifying recursive fear, but he can still crush Tailgate whenever he chooses; this manipulation strategy wouldn't affect him— he's a pathetic Decepticon if he can't even spark a minibot like you.
—He could have done it… he didn’t, I don’t know why he didn’t once he calmed down, but it was nice while it lasted, I really felt like before, like I connected with a friend—he paused thoughtfully—but then I heard my teammates, they must have come back and since I wasn’t there they looked for my signal—he stands up and starts acting slightly again—so that the Jet could escape I suggested he throw me as a projectile—he makes a feint as if to throw something over his head
—... projectile?
—Tailgate lets out a chuckle— Yeah, he's still a Warframe after all. He threw me around like a box before flying off. Then we did a lot of paperwork where I made up a fight so neither of us would get in trouble.
—...— He turns and looks at the sky. He felt so calm that he was able to switch off his aggressive self-preservation routine again — if there was no war in your time, why are you an Autobot now?
—They found me first. My timing wasn't perfect, but I don't know why the war started. No one has told me, and the information in the books doesn't match what I know. They treat you like two different species, as if the Decepticons were violent, irrational Warframes. You couldn't 'invade'; you live here... We lived together on Cybertron.— He took a moment to calm himself and hugged his legs to get comfortable. —What I'm saying is... I don't hate the Decepticons. Although, given my body type, the Decepticons would have destroyed me, right? I'm not a combat model, even though I have field claws.— He flexed his fingers, changing the tips into sharp points of a hard, resistant material. —Pretty impressive, isn't it?— He tried to lighten the mood, but everything was calm between them, so he returned to his observation of the night sky. —...Even so, I don't hate them
—...— Tailgate had something, something Cyclonus couldn't put into words. He didn't know what it was, but the minibot felt like more than met the eye, like it was bigger in some way unknown to him.