Ask Scattorshot


It had always been dangerous to open up to another, whether they were considered a close friend or not.  One never knew when that individual may turn, may use anything expressed to them in order to bring another down for personal gain.  Thundercracker had closed himself off, had built up so many defenses in his mind that even expressing a single thought would leave him feeling exposed.  He fled from confrontation, hid away and prayed for peace, that the hurt wouldn’t return.

It was easier, here.  The comforting embrace of another, one that had proven themselves a caring individual, one that was able to be trusted with his innermost thoughts.  The Seeker returned the hug with one of his own, a deep ex-vent rushing from his systems as he settled into the familiar routine.  

It was a comfortable pattern the two had settled into, over time.  One would approach the other—anger, confusion, terror controlling their thoughts, seeking solitude and clarity.  More often than not, the situation would end similarly to how they stood in that moment—holding each other close, fields flaring with feelings of understanding and comfort.  There was nothing odd about it, at least to Thundercracker: it was what friendship should be.  Openness, and the will to do whatever necessary to aid in the other’s moments of need.

"Ah mean it, mech," the Seeker replied, "Ah’ll do whatever Ah can.  An’, well… yeah.  Ah feel comfortable this way, but…" 

He sent the command to deactivate his vocoder’s alteration program and glanced up to meet the technician’s gaze, adding: “Even I can’t deny the usefulness of my standard vocals.  Just… try to keep this between us, would you?  Can’t have everyone knowing I’m not ACTUALLY a buffoon, after all.” 

He carefully let go of the seeker and smiled. “Don’t worry Thundercracker, your secret’s safe with me,” he assured. “I won’t tell unless absolutely necessary. Which I highly doubt anyone will need ta know that badly,” he said with a slight chuckle.

He too had grown to love this new pattern. No one really touched one another unless they were shaking a hand or greeting someone. It was good to be able to hold someone when they needed comfort.

With another smile, he turned and began to gather the newly bundled wires, and headed for the door. “Would ya mind helpin’ me repair some wirin’ in the main hall?” he asked stopping at the door to look at the seeker.

Secret’s Out


"Don’t gotta actually see your optics to feel the intent coming through the visor, mech!" He was tapping the side of his helm, where a visor would have rested if the shuttle had had such a thing.

Scattorshot’s benign warning about intruding on any possible private time with Thundercracker did catch his attention, but the grin never faded from his expression. He’d played this game with so many other mechs he knew better than give away when someone had hit upon something that could sway him to do what they wanted. 

He wondered if the mech had taken in account just how much Wing liked dragging the seeker on flights. It’d be hard for the mech to interrupt them thousand of feet up in the air. The only exception he could think of was comms. Though… dragging Scattorshot along for a flight might actually be kinda fun.

"Nah, that don’t bother me none, Scattors. Me an’ TC have been hitting the skies a lot since I got back. You could come with, if ya want. It’d be a lot different than going up a ground bridge, yanno?"

Darn. Darn, darn, darn. Why did this mech have to be so much trouble? He knew that Wing Saber hardly listened to his superiors, so he couldn’t even take the low road and pull rank!

For a moment he wondered if the shuttles wings were detachable. Not that he could figure out how they came off, if they did. He didn’t want to take the fliers out of the sky either. That would be like taking away his computer. It would be cruel and unusual punishment. 

"I can’t fly Wing Saber, or did ya overlook the missin’ wings?" he asked. He hoped that’s what it was. He didn’t want to go flying anywhere unless he was doing the flying from behind a terminal in a spaceship. Which granted, was much more fun than walking or driving to a destination. 

"Look, could ya just do it as a favor ta me?" he finally asked. 


Yet another wave of relief pushed away the clouds of fear that filled his processor.  Truly, Thundercracker shouldn’t have felt worried about revealing his little secret to Scattorshot; the mech was accepting, and quite level-headed.  Then again, all of the feedback he had received in recent days seemed to be incredibly negative.   

"Yeah, that’s… that’s the real me, mech," he admitted, shrugging. "Thanks.  Ta be honest, Ah had it installed so people wouldn’t think Ah was too smart, y’know?  It takes what Ah say in that fancy voice an’ sorta… Ah dunno, does a thing so it don’t sound real great, er somethin’ like that."

Although he felt the act had saved his spark on more than one occasion, it seemed to have worked almost too well.  Even when a task was completely flawlessly, faults were still found.  The credit was taken by another, and the Seeker had been punished accordingly for failing the task at hand.  Even when he had proven himself, he was still seen as incompetent, and treated as the team punching bag.  A bit of regret stirred in the back of his processors; in hindsight, he should have taken the advice he was given long ago, and just kept quiet instead of trying to change who he was.  

Still, there was no changing the things he had done.  While it had isolated him from his colleagues, and anyone who may have given him a shred of respect, he had found friendship.  Sure, they had seen through the act fairly easily, but they didn’t mind it.  They appreciated the mech that was underneath the mask, and cared for him like any other.

Thundercracker’s gaze turned back to meet that of Scattorshot’s, the mech’s words ringing in his audials.  He had been left here due to both oversight and assumed laziness, alone and hurt.  Few came to check on him, and fewer still even commed to even say hello.  The guilt the Seeker had felt the few times he had mentioned leaving roiled in his mind; he had not meant to hurt the mech he now called his closest friend, but even the mere idea of leaving him alone again had caused the technician grief.  Never again. 

Raising from his seat on the floor, he quickly crossed the remaining space between them and laid an assuring servo upon Scattorshot’s arm, a smile spread across his features. “An’ ya won’t hafta be alone, amigo.  We’re in this together.  You, me, an’ whomever else may come along.  That’s what pals do.”

Hearing that the seeker intentionally boggled his mind. Didn’t the Decepticons like smart mechs? Apparently not. He felt sorry that the seeker had hidden who he was originally, but now it seemed part of who he was. And Scattorshot could accept that. 

"Ya don’t have ta hide anything from me." he assured, "But I understand if ya wanna stay how ya are too," 

He returned to his work, until he felt a servo rest on his arm. He looked over at the seeker and he spoke, his words sinking in. He was aware the seeker knew he was very much alone for a long time, and it made him happy to think that maybe this time, he wouldn’t be left alone again. 

He stood up and looked down at the seeker. After a few seconds he carefully bent down and wrapped his arms around the smaller seeker, pulling him into a hug. “Thatnks Thundercracker. That means a lot,” he said a smile forming on his face.

Secret’s Out


Wing Saber chuckled, helm tilted as he grinned back at the other mech. “I can see it in your optics, mech. Ya wanna hug me so bad ya just don’t know what to do with yourself!”

Now the question became did he get up and do as Scattorshot was asking or did he take the lazy route and deal with the nagging? He was a little surprised he was willing to give him a week, but he wasn’t going to question that, nosiree.

"I suppose I could give Cybertron a call the next time I’m down by the control room…" He tapped his chin, green optics thoughtful. "Or I could just laze in here all week… Ya sure don’t make these decisions easy, Scattors." 

"Ya can’t even see my optics Wingsaber, they’re covered,” he said with a sigh. 

With all of the future problems the shuttle could cause, he was tempted to just do the report himself, but he didn’t want him to think that he could get away without doing work. Somehow, someway, he had to seem like he was glad he could nag his friend…which he wasn’t. 

This would take some strategical thinking. Maybe all he had to do was tell the truth.

"Well then, I guess I’ll be naggin’ ya, I’m fine with it, and I hope Thundercracker is too…shame though, that you two won’t have more alone time with me around ya. He seemed ta wanna be with you more," he said sadly "Oh well, I guess he’ll have have to wait for that a little more," 

Truly he would give the two their space if need be. He didn’t want to ruin the little seeker’s good time.


A vent of relief pushed through his systems.  Thundercracker did not wish to lie to someone he held so dear, especially one so accepting of how he preferred to stay.  Perhaps he would indulge Scattorshot for a moment.  Flashing a quick smile, he disengaged his vocoder’s alteration programming and turned to face the technician.

"It’s a bit less of wishing to remain a fool, and rather being a bit more comfortable with the changes produced by my programming." He tossed another bundle of cabling to the side before settling back a bit more, his smile spreading just a bit further. "It’s not to say that I’m not used to my standard vocals anymore, it’s just everyone else seems to prefer the altered ones.  So, I stick with those."

As the protocols came back online, he kept a close watch on Scattorshot’s gaze, drifting about the storage room.  The Autobots had been forced into this base by the work of the Decepticons and Unicron’s twisted abilities—it was only meant to be temporary shelter from the war.  Now, it was considered home to some of those very refugees, retired warriors who wished only to continue their lives in peace. 

"Ah can see how much it means ta you, Scattorshot.  We… we don’t hafta feel bad about not wantin’ ta go back ta Cybertron," he assured, reaching forward to pat the technician’s shoulder. "Sure, we may need ta rely on them now an’ then, but hey.  Everyone needs help sometimes.  We just… gotta be patient, Ah guess."

Hearing the new voice he quickly looked around to see who was talking. Once he confirmed that he and Thundercracker he stared at the seeker in shock. He couldn’t really have spoken, could he?

"That’s your…real voice" he asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, but he was….amazed. It was a nice voice. 

"I like it," he said with another smile. "I’m used ta hearin’ several different voices. I like both of yours," 

He himself had picked up the accent on accident, but he hadn’t really thought about it until others started pointing it out. He didn’t talk much at the time so the thought of changing it never crossed his processor. And even though Thundercracker had explained it, he still didn’t comprehend why he wanted to change his own.

Thinking about the base reminded him of all the adventures he, the Autobots, and kids had done. He wanted more adventures too, but maybe this time, he could have non-life threatening ones with another friend.

"No one was ever meant ta be alone, or work alone. I found that out the hard way,"


The sudden compliment sent a shudder of fear down his backstruts, and a wary glance toward his companion.  Had he been too open?  Thundercracker understood working this closely with the technician would at least leave himself open to questioning on his lack of detail concerning his various skillsets.  Still, would Scattorshot truly think less of him if he were honest?  

"Ah’m… aware, yeah," he replied, rather plainly. "It’s just somethin’ Ah prefer ta keep to myself, y’know.  Life tends ta be a bit more simple if ya pretend ya have no clue what’s goin’ on half the time.  At least, from my experience it is."

The admission was enough to pull a gentle smile across the Seeker’s features.  He, too, had grown to enjoy the environment, the seclusion and comfort their little outpost provided.  True, they were merely guests upon this foreign world, but it was a place where he truly felt safe, and above all, welcomed.

"It’s rather quaint, actually.  Although, Ah gotta agree with ya, mech— Ah’m glad yer here, too.  Don’t know where Ah’d be if ya hadn’t been here, an’ ya hadn’t welcomed me inta yer home," admitted the Seeker.  He dropped the few bundles he had been fiddling with into another pile, and picked up one of the remaining jumbles, twirling it gently between his digits. "Really, Ah’d be content ta stay here as long as Ah’m able.  It’s… it’s home."

He didn’t know why Thundercracker would wan to hide any knowledge he had, but he figured it probably had to do with being a Decepticon. Were all of them pretending to be airheads…or was Thundercracker a special case?

"Well…if that’s how ya wanna be that’s okay. I ain’t gonna tell ya ta change," he replied with a smile.

He looked around the room they were in. It was only one of many in the huge base. He loved it though. It was his home. He had been transferred to so many places so often, that it was hard to get used to one place. He was happy he lived where he did.

At first he thought the design was a bit over done, but it held memories of when the kids helped give ideas and even helped putting some of the machinery together. He missed the kids, the didn’t visit very often anymore. And after being left there, he had quickly gotten lonely. He was happy to have the seeker’s company.

"It’s home ta me too. I’ve lived here for a long time," he said with a small content smile still in a little bit of thought.  


The explanation made sense, but it didn’t seem like a good enough excuse.  Thundercracker knew how the Decepticons worked, and understood that Jetfire taking charge of all of Cybertron was a risky move for both sides.  The jet could be quite hard-headed, unmoving on many fronts; it would be difficult to get former Decepticons to agree to just about anything, even if they were being treated as equals.

As Scattorshot’s words spun through his processors, the Seeker came to a decision.  Optics locked upon the mess of cabling before him, he began: “Ah think Ah’m gonna be honest with ya, mech.  Thinkin’ about it… Ah don’t really mind not goin’ back ta Cybertron.  Like… ever.”  He paused, grabbing another tight bundle of cables before continuing, “Life ain’t never gonna be what it was before.  Our homes ain’t gonna be the same.  Our jobs, our lives, the ones we lived with… Ah get we can build it all again, make it new an’ move on… but what if movin’ on means buildin’ it somewhere new, too?” 

His vocals were calm, collected, as though this wasn’t the first time he had considered the idea more than once. “Ah got this buddy in another universe that talked ta me a lot about the past, an’ how we need ta keep it with us.  Even then, we gotta move forward, try ta make things right.  Well… it sounds weird, but Cybertron don’t feel very home-like ta me no more.  Might be because Ah haven’t been there in a long time, but… Ah feel more comfortable elsewhere; wherever my friends are, really.”

Finally finished with untangling the wires, he looked over at the seeker. He made some good points, they obviously didn’t need them or they would have sent a transport ship ages ago.

"Ya know Thundercracker. I dunno if ya know this…but you’re smarter than ya make yourself out ta be," he said with a smile before starting to bundle the wires together. 

"I don’t think I mind either. I’m happy right here where I am. Earth is a special place to me, and I actually know how civilization can be here. I’m happy here. And I’m glad you’re here too," he said with another smile.


Thundercracker flicked his wings in frustration, moving to organize a few more of the piles.  

The comment merely got a grunt of agreement as he continued to work.  While he had climbed the ranks over the centuries, he never felt as though he had been formally recognized for his work.  True, becoming a lieutenant was definitely a sign of recognition, but rarely was he given a “good job,” or “thanks for the effort.”  It was frustrating to know that Scattorshot felt the same, as talented as he was; weren’t they similar in rank? 

"How’d they even get that mixed up in the first place?" the Seeker asked, his vocals laced with annoyance. "Red an’ my blue ain’t nothin’ alike. Still, Ah guess… ugh, Ah guess yer right."  He stayed quiet for a moment, bundling and arranging the wires according to various sizes and functions, before he started speaking his thoughts aloud, "How bad off can Cybertron really be, anyhow?  It’s been a long time since the war ended, an’ since Primus revived it with the Keys, ain’t it better off?  What’s Jetfire even doin’ up there?"

Scattorshot listened to the seeker speak as he continued to untangle and organize. The seeker did have a few good points. He didn’t think it was possible to get those colors mixed up. Maybe they had a numbering system and they read the numbers wrong? He didn’t enter a number in when he ordered it.

He gave a shrug at the seeker. “Jetfire’s an Autobot. Not many Decepticons wanna listen to him. Not to mention, the factions may have different morals, but that don’t mean everyone agrees. Even from people withing the factions,” he explained the best he could. He would like to believe everything was okay, but the more likely truth was there was major disagreement about what should be done now to make the planet better. 

He vented and shook his head. “We have it pretty good TC. We don’t have to deal with constant disagreement about our planet…but we also don’t really get a say,” he knew that that planet was where he was created, but in a way, it didn’t feel like home without the war. He didn’t want the war there, but on Cybertron that was almost all he had known. Earth felt much more homely, but he could never call it his home, which is why he couldn’t decide if having no say in the happenings of his planet made him upset, or relieved.


The paint.  The thought hadn’t even crossed his processor that they had screwed THAT up, too.  Crawling to his pedes, Thundercracker went over to the crate that—according to the attached shipping order—contained paint.  He opened the top and peered inside, his wings dropping low in their sockets. “Don’t speak too soon, amigo.”

Leaning over the edge, he grabbed the side of one of the containers and hoisted it out to show Scattorshot.  His annoyance was clear in his vocals as he said, “Does this look like blue ta you?  Because this looks incredibly red ta me.  As in, bright, Autobot red.  As in, not the color of either of our frames.”

Thundercracker muttered something about even the silver being wrong as he put the container back, then plopping back into place beside the technician.  He understood that Cybertron was still struggling in some areas, and that they couldn’t always get what they requested, but it would have been nice to at least get a new coat of paint.

His mind drifted as he untangled wires and components, making sure to bundle and organize them properly as he continued.  Was the state of their home world still so disorderly?  ”Even if they’re strugglin’, this is still sorta embarrassin’.” 

Scattorshot sighed and continued to untangle the wires.

"I bet if we were some big important mechs to the reconstructions, then they’d care…" he grumbled. He didn’t mind being a lower rank, but a little bit of courtesy would be nice. Especially since he was abandoned there.

He mentally shrugged and sorted a few untangled wires. “Well whatever, I can just send it back and send for some more. Just don’t open it. They’ll get it eventually,” he assured. He hated to wait though. He new the seeker had been waiting for a long time for a touch up.

Secret’s Out


"Now don’t day that, Scattors! You wouldn’t have shot me." WIng Saber’s grin was even wider if it was possible and the shuttle made no attempt to extract himself from the pile of blankets he was sitting in. "You would have been so overjoyed, you would have dropped everything to hug me!"

Chuckling, the shuttle even went so far as to stretch back out and lounge. “And I just got back, mech. Don’t I get a few days - maybe a week - to myself? I seem to remember something in the regs somewhere…” He knew full well what the regulations actually said, but teasing the mech never failed to entertain.

"Not intentionally no, but I may have shot ya on accident. And I ain’t exactly huggin’ ya am I now?" he remarked crossing his arms. 

Man this mech was hard to work with. Well he’d just have to improvise then. “Well Wing Saber do ya want a week to yourself or do you want a week full of me nagging you constantly?” he asked with a grin.

He was tempted to just grab the mech and drag him down to the control room, but he figured it may not be worth it.