Chapter Text
“E-C41d3r4. Online.”
Caldera’s consciousness clawed its sluggish way towards the familiar voice’s prompting, his usual rest cycle leaving much to be desired in the way of actual rest.
“…It is time for your dispatch briefing.” A one-eyed squint almost audible in the stable monotone.
Clarity and excitement gripped him all at once as his optics snapped open, ever since his training was approved and his stability assessments were finalized, Caldera had been obsessing over finally being of use to the Decepticons, to Lord Megatron and to-
“Affirmative, Commander Shockwave.” Caldera rasped, extracting himself from his standing recharge nook to stand at attention, the cold metal of his limbs creaking and cracking with the reheating of his body.
Shockwave was Caldera’s guiding hand, his direction, his saviour. His creator. Millions of years of servitude at his side would never repay Shockwave in the eyes of Caldera. Despite that sentiment, he wanted to be useful to the commander in every way possible. Anything his savior ordered of him, he would make use of the power gifted to him to manifest the combined vision of his master and his lord, Megatron.
For the time being, that vision was to bring Caldera up as an assassin. Specialized engineering and advanced programming made Caldera the most efficient hidden executioner this side of the stellar system… in theory. Caldera has never been assigned a job. As efficient and effective he is within sparring, combat simulations and trial runs, he is not an experienced officer.
Despite all his cycles of training, Shockwave continued to bar Caldera from frontline war efforts with claims of his unpreparedness, that he was not recovered enough from his reformat to leave the ship without supervision.
His resolve hardened as he stared straight forward to his commander, today, everything would change for Caldera. He would make sure of it.
Shockwave’s shadow stretched along the floor from his stance in the doorway, the darkness of the room, broken up by the hallway corridor’s lights. The piercing, single eye of Caldera’s beloved commander resting its unflinching gaze on the Insecticon, something Caldera had always appreciated. Shockwave never showed apprehension nor fear at his unsettling optics, blanched at his exposed intake mandibles or snickered at his comparatively diminutive stature.
He merely observed in restrained curiosity as if Caldera was the most fascinating thing in the room, as if everything he did was the flawless execution of his most marvelous theories.
Shockwave may not consciously express his emotions or approval, but Caldera still wanted to make him proud.
“It is time for your assignment and target briefing.” Shockwave gave him a once-over, “Your new handler will arrive shortly to deliver it all to you. Lord Megatron deems it necessary for every assassin to act with another operative to streamline the process.” The yellow eye bore into Caldera’s evident confusion.
“You will do well to familiarize yourself with him, E-C41d3r4. Two cycles remain until time of dispatch.” the scientist turned to leave, throwing a final look over his shoulder, “You both will not disappoint.”
Caldera blanched. A handler?! After all these cycles of training, studying tactics, testing his body until he was broken so he could perform his duties independently- he was saddled with a stupid supervisor?! Caldera slouched his attentive posture and started pacing his empty room, making tight circles in front of his recharge nook. If only he could show Commander Shockwave how strong he was! He could beat anybody if he tried- let him at any officer or Autobot and he would deliver their desiccated spark casing at the feet of his master- he had to show them! Show all of them that he didn’t need them. He doesn’t need them! This new handler will only hold him back- they’ll see! Caldera will never be held back by the liabilities who think they can outpace him. Is he expected to put his spark on the line for them? Again? Who is this inferior pencil-pushing rule-following nobody who thinks they can keep him in line-
“So.”
Caldera snapped out of his spiral, dropping his weight and tensing his stance towards the hall, zeroing in on the voice in his doorway.
“Caldera, right?”
Sweet Adaptus.
The shadow blotting out the room’s light rumbled with that voice. This is his handler? How is this proverbial skyscraper ducking under his nine-metre doorframe supposed to aid his subtle infiltration missions? How tall are they, ten metres? Eleven? Bigger than Lord Megatron himself?! Caldera’s eyes adjusted to the darkness when his hab door slid shut. As his mystery handler stepped into the room, Caldera mapped their frame out of pure reflexive shock. Expansive shoulders and chestplate taking up most of his view, the matte bleach-white plating layered over shades of grey and soft pink biolights. Caldera was certain the mech’s arms were thicker than every one of his limbs put together and from the look of the gingerly-gripped datapad dwarfed within their servo, they would have very little trouble snapping most mechs clean in half.
Caldera was not scared. Merely… surprised. Startled. Not a fight he would lose, of course, but one he would certainly need to strategize for. Many blind spots, no doubt of similar size to those Commander Shockwave had to deal with. Probable thick armour, although size was never a guarantee of slow speeds, thick hip, shoulder and waist articulation indicates less flexibility. Caldera could easily evade most attacks, especially if his opponent was nearly… double his size… No evident concealed weaponry, likely advanced targeting systems came with optics if their extremely unique colour and reticle pattern meant anything, especially since they were fixed straight on… Caldera.
Scrap.
“Caldera? That is your designation right? Any affirmative- or are you one of those strong and silent types us handlers have to deal with?” he joked, his smooth white helm and mask catching the low light of the room, pastel-yellow optics sparkling with humor. Caldera’s faceplates heated with embarrassment, posture straightening to attention and wings irritably twitching.
“N-no- Affirmative- I mean-” he stuttered, fists clenching at his sides. “Designation: Caldera, Insecticon trial creation E-C41d3r-”
“Woah, woah. Easy there mech!” he held his free hand up placatingly, shifting down further to sit on the floor, his helm nearly at Caldera’s eye level, shocking the smaller mech. “I’m not that kind of superior, you don’t have to recite that whole spiel. I’m calling you Caldera anyways, E-C41d3r4 seems a bit… wordy.” he shrugged as he held out the comparatively small datapad.
“The designation’s Deathmark, by the way. Of Kaon.” he squinted in what must’ve been a smile, obscured by the lower-faceplate mask.
Caldera looked away, his humiliation was starting to bring up the temperature of the entire hab. This so-called Deathmark could definitely tell and the fragger was just ignoring it to be polite. He was fuming. The gentle tilt of his new handler’s helm did nothing to tamp down Caldera’s nerves, his patience combined with his clear strength and smooth words was... distracting.
Caldera cycled a vent, deeming it safe enough to snatch the datapad without melting any important components. Deathmark chuckled.
“Fiesty.”
Caldera leveled a glare in response, the large mech held up both hands.
“My bad, mech. This your first job?” he asked.
“...yes. It is.” Caldera mumbled, shifting his mandibles restlessly. Deathmark beamed. “I’m honoured to guide you through it then! It’s rather symbolic, isn’t it?” he mused.
“Not only your first target, first assignment and first excursion to cybertron-” he reached out one colossal arm, looping it over Caldera’s body, suddenly pulling him into his space in a half-embrace. “But all of it with me as your first handler as well? That must make me a very lucky mech. I’m honoured, hot stuff.” Deathmark nodded his head sagely. Caldera nearly fell into stasis.
The sheer brazenness this hauler was displaying was absurd! Didn’t he understand the source of the stifling heat? How dangerous Caldera was to even be near?! He’s either as stupid as he is hefty or is strangely… trusting. Caldera squirmed a little in Deathmark’s strong hold. Perhaps if this mech was truly chosen for him under Commander Shockwave’s consideration, Caldera could be persuaded into giving this handler a chance. He wasn’t even sure how involved a role Deathmark would take in their missions. Maybe he could be a part of his new… team.
“I suppose…” Caldera grumbled. “It’s not something truly of note…”
“You kidding me mech? It’s momentous! I read through your file, you seem so capable, I’m shocked nobody’s assigned you anywhere yet!” Deathmark boomed, jostling the insecticon held next to him.
“Either way, it’s a great sign of a blank space for a great duo-dynamic to be formed! I can see many assignments ahead of us, Caldera.” the hauler leaned in ever closer.
“I’m proud of us already.” Deathmark stated in a quieter tone, looking off into the wistful middle-distance currently occupied by Caldera’s closed hab door.
Caldera’s mind was overwhelmed processing all his new circumstances. Deathmark’s iron-clad hope, his starry-eyed optimism as well as his servo nearly encapsulating Caldera’s entire shoulder and upper arm.
“A-affirmative, Deathmark.” he finally ground out, directing his gaze towards the hab door as well. “I look forward to the aid of your… influence.”
“Good mech.” Deathmark joked. Caldera flushed impossibly redder.
“I gotta introduce you to the rest of the handlers, Cal. They’re gonna appreciate you almost as much as I already do.”