Chapter Text
There was no other viable option for going into hiding. No one would seek him out in this kind of environment, doing this kind of job. He was so lucky for this unique opportunity Lobe had hooked him up with—before he cut him and all traces of his work from the Institute entirely . All of his contributions, all of his successes, his advancements in neuroscience—those would all become attributed to some unsuspecting no name. It would almost be as if Trepan were deleted from existence.
Lucky.
Trepan would just keep telling himself that.
The job, Lobe informed him, was essentially hired help. Someone to assist with the grunt work of getting a giant mansion and its surrounding grounds back into shape after it had fallen into disrepair. An incident had taken place there, but Trepan didn’t get the chance to glean many details of the situation. There wasn’t time.
The master of the house, known as The Overlord, was often in and out of it apparently, but there wasn’t much time to ask questions about that individual either. It was out of the way and isolated and the perfect place to lay low until Trepan could formulate another plan to get himself even further from the Institute and anyone associated with it.
Trepan rested the crest of his helm on the window of the small ship, focusing on the blue-green planet that was coming into orbit. He’d repainted his frame with dull grays, and reconfigured some of his armor. Though, Trepan kept such a low profile before they anticipated the breech, he doubted anyone would give him a second glance and guess who he was. If Lobe did his job properly, he honestly didn't have much to worry about. The engraving on his left wrist was still an issue, a silly indulgence he had etched in when he was younger and more passionate about certain aspects of the Institute, but he’d get it replated eventually. For now, the small leather strapped chronometer he’d fastened over it would have to be enough to hide it.
The transport rumbled slightly as it traveled through the atmosphere, but soon the ride was smooth again and a small launchpad came into view. Trepan began to gather the small amount of belongings he had scattered in the small area, as he wouldn’t have much time before the transport pod shot back into space and self destructed. He opened a small tin and popped an energon stick in the side of his cheek before throwing the rest into his sub-space and braced his arms on the frame of the window for landing.
Lucky.
❤ — ❤ — ❤
Trepan hitched up the pack on his back and quickly walked up to the brick and iron fencing of the mansion. He worried slightly that the security standards were a little antiquated, should anyone find him here. Fortunately, he arrived in the daylight, so navigating the brush and overgrown gravel road wasn’t entirely miserable. He found a panel along the gate with an intercom to request entry into the property. It chimed a few notes when pressed and he waited.
And waited.
Trepan stepped back and peered through the rungs of the iron gate for signs of life, a ship parked in the field of overgrowth, lights, anything.
You have got to be kidding me.
He let out an exasperated huff, pressed the intercom again and the chime didn’t finish playing its cheery little tune before the gate began to slowly creak open. Trepan started ahead to pass through, and a vehicle behind him honked. He couldn’t help but let out a surprised shriek and just about jumped out of his plating.
Pressing a hand over his spark and taking a few calm intakes of air, he finally turned around and squinted at an enormous navy vehicle idling. Behind the wheel was a wide, amused grin.
Trepan crossed the distance to the smirking driver’s side window, as it rolled down.
“Who are you?”
“The new employee. Pan.” he said, fighting to keep his tone as neutral as possible.
“About time,” said the driver, idly scratching the cables on the side of his neck and staring off towards the mansion, “Aren’t you a little…”
“What?”
“...little?”
“With all respect, I don’t believe there was anything in the job description that stated a preference for size.”
The driver glanced at him and then back at the mansion and shrugged.
“You getting in, or are you going to walk?”
Trepan visibly flinched but covered it up with a slight bow.
“Yes sir, thank you.”
He started to move to get into the back of the vehicle, but the driver’s door opened and he found his upper arm enclosed by a giant hand. Before he could protest, Trepan was swiftly yanked over the driver’s lap and into the cab.
“Are you—” Trepan scrambled to sit upright in the passenger seat. “The owner? The Overlord?”
“Heh. It’s just ‘Overlord.’ It’s been so long since I’ve heard someone say my name.” he slouched back in the seat with a toothy grin and slowly continued along the gravel driveway, steering with one hand.
"S-So 'Just Overlord' is how you would prefer me address you, then?"
"That's fine, unless I change my mind." Overlord snickered.
“How long have you been here?” Trepan idly noted that Overlord’s hand gripping the wheel could also probably encircle all the way around his waist. He blinked and snapped his attention back on the silhouette of the mansion becoming more and more clear through the trees.
“Just under a year. Hell, it feels like it’s been nearly an eternity though.”
Trepan nodded.
“You know how to cook?”
“What?”
“Can you boil water?”
“Of course I can boil water. I’m not some professionally trained chef, but I can prepare and mix energon just fine.”
“What about cleaning, any good at that?”
Trepan bristled a little. What was this monstrous mech getting at?
“I will do whatever you ask of me.”
“Hm, that’s what my last employee said. Still don’t know how he made it out with one leg...or perhaps he’s just decomposing out there in the woods.”
Trepan crossed his arms and tried his hardest to look bored.
“Anyway, I’d be careful making statements like that.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, the gravel path twisting through the woods and up the hill before Overlord put the vehicle in park and shut it off. He wrenched his door open and descended into the gravel with a heavy crunch. Trepan followed suit and walked around the front to stand next to Overlord at the steps to the mansion.
Ominously large double doors with weathered copper knockers were at the top of the cracked stairs, and with one glance up at his employer, it made sense why the door was so enormous. Now that they weren’t sitting in the vehicle, Overlord stood at his full titan height, and Trepan barely made it to his waist. It would have been nice if Lobe mentioned that the master of the house could quite literally tear someone apart with little effort if the notion struck. Trepan clasped his hands in front of him before fiddling with the leather strap on his chronometer and did what he could to calm his whirring processor.
It might be awhile before he left this place.