Chapter Text
Pursuit studied the small figure that was creeping its way across their front porch.
Okay- it’s less of a porch and more of a dusty mile plot of floodlight-lit moon terrain and impeccably-maintained orbital defense technology- but it was front enough of their bunker to be considered porch. The figure also only seemed small through the far-off aperture of one of their many, many security cameras.
Judging by the two or three screens of static on Pursuit’s large security display, the infiltrator had managed to notice and take out some of the more obvious cameras in their path. Observed by the few pixels that were flagged by detectors, their uninvited guest was relatively small, purple-ish and very, very dusty. Pursuit sighed, leaning back in their hollow-backed chair, an unfortunate side effect of their solitude, picking the dustiest moon this side of the system to take their retirement.
Dragging a grey servo across their face, Pursuit steeled themself to go take care of the problem. The bunker is less of a vital base in the Autobot command structure and more of a… cold halfway-house for wayward communication relays or traveling autobots. Because of the direction the war had taken, it found use less and less, leaving Pursuit alone for long stretches of time with few messages to forward or new faces to see. It didn’t bother them, though! Less responsibility left them more free time to indulge in all their scintillating hobbies, like orbital defense systems, interior defense systems, surveillance defense systems and low-power defense systems! They prided themself on having the most secure base of any Autobot, which is why this new visitor is so… unexpected. They should not have been able to enter orbit, much less make contact with the moon’s surface. Pursuit had set most of their systems to detect spark energy signatures at any levels, and any ships or mechs that were spacefaring give off very high energy levels to be able to stave off the energy-sapping cold of open space and would have tripped one of their systems.
Clicking their mask into place, they heaved themself out of their desk chair. Being a larger seeker model, their low-set wings often got in the way of any chair they sat in, usually getting caught in the backing. Pursuit had skillfully solved this problem by taking a laser-saw to the metal and haphazardly carving spaces in the already rickety rolling chair. Sure, the chair creaked concerningly under their weight and the metal now poked their backplates if they sat just so, but it worked.
Striding down the wide, tall tunnels of the bunker, they passed numerous empty server rooms, dark habsuites and junk-filled closets, barring access to each of them remotely through their HUD. If their intruder got in, it would have nowhere to run. The tan, pitted surfaces of the bunker didn’t have the comforting clang of Cybertronian metal, but they were very strong and efficient at insulating against the persistent chill. A good defense against large-scale outside attacks as well as keeping the good things in.
Reaching an exterior ceiling hatch, Pursuit pinged it to spiral open, a wall of cold thrashed their plating. Shaking out their stiff limbs, they checked for the location of their mystery mech in their HUD-connected camera.
They were nowhere to be found.
A very bad sign.
Okay, Pursuit nervously bounced on their pedes, glancing up to the open surface hatch. No big deal, they would just have to survey the exterior in tandem with tracking pings from the surveillance system. Manageable.
Focusing, Pursuit propelled themself out of the bunker, lower gravity helping them clear the small hatch as they launched into a transformation, expansive wings slotting into their jet form as they shot out across the geyser-covered surface of the moon. Pursuit studied the area; very few spots of this world’s moon could provide cover for this mech, so they weren’t too worried about not being able to spot them.
Pursuit didn’t want to assume that they were a Decepticon, but the indigo-purple pixels they spotted on their cameras were not a good sign to the contrary. What a shame. The first visitor in vorns and Pursuit would probably have to kill them. They supposed they were just unlucky that way.
Banking the perimeter to make another pass over the frigid landscape, they grew a little more concerned at the lack of results.
No matter, they might be hiding on the underside of some satellite dishes or relays. Pursuit transformed and hit the surface with a light thud, softly beginning to creep around the area.
They were kicking themself, how could they slack this badly? Kup always preached that underestimating an enemy will always cost resources, and here they are. Wandering blindly through extremely expensive communication relay equipment looking for a mech with seemingly no detectible spark signature and no discernable reason for being here. There hadn’t been an important comm on this establishment for decavorns! There’s no way the Decepticons have any interest in a moon this far away from Autobot high command, either.
Making one more loop of the small exterior relay shed, sidestepping an icy geyser fissure, a blink of movement caught their optic. Pricking their wing-like finials, they snapped their helm in the direction of the disturbance.
Hello, stranger.
Cautiously creeping past the shed, Pursuit kept their HUD cleared and senses sharp. Pursuit ejected two defensive grappling blades from their forearms to show how much they meant business. They didn’t want to brag but they usually wiped the dusty floor with most Decepticons who showed up. Infiltrators generally expected some battle-averse comms desk-mech pencil-pusher and not the battle-enthusiastic comms desk-mech ex-High Guard General. Rounding another thick antenna relay, Pursuit spotted a slowly-settling cloud of sediment. Leaning down to investigate a very peculiar pedeprint, they felt the chilled wind shift through their finials, whipping around to catch the forearm connected to outstretched, red-hot talons aimed straight for their skull. Pursuit huffed in surprise at their own quick instincts. Yep. Still got it.
Underestimating your enemy costs resources, and the resource the Decepticons would be cost today was… gorgeous.
Inky indigo plating covered their frame in smooth, sweeping lines that turned into jagged spikes and pastel violets. An Insecticon. Piercing red optics and heaving, broad shoulders giving way to narrow hips and tall, proud, antennae-like crests on their helm. Blazing lines of violent red disappeared into their plating and traced along their powerful arms, digit tips glowing the same boiling neon. Something clicked and snarled beneath the filter mask they had over their faceplate, a disjointed multi-layered sound of static and rage.
They were beautiful.
Steering the momentum of their intercepted strike overhelm with their razor-sharp, glorious wings, they launched their diminutive stature over Pursuit’s helm. Dragging Pursuit’s arm with them, they used their weight to slam Pursuit’s distracted faceplates directly into the ground, forcing them to suck in a vent of pain.
Frag. Still a little rusty.
Pursuit activated their thrusters, launching to their feet and lamenting their throbbing, definitely-dented olfactory ridge beneath their mask and slightly-melted forearm plating. Facing their opponent, who was crouched down and snarling in a stunning display, they steeled themself for a distracted fight. Despite having an easy four metres on the Insecticon, Pursuit didn’t want to chance anything with them. Raising the grappling blades on their forearms, Pursuit dodged another outstretched launch at their faceplates, the Insecticon tracing a graceful loop around the nearest support pole, swinging their weight into a kick straight into Pursuit’s cockpit glass. The glass held, but the surprising weight of the mystery mech toppled them over, Pursuit crashing to the ground with the other mech on top of them.
Staring up, dazed, they looked at the other mech perched on their chestplates. They had crouched down, very close, warm talons lightly scoring Pursuit’s plating. Leaning in their faceplates ever-closer, they rasped near Pursuit’s feathered audial.
“Prepare to die by my servo, Autobot.” they whispered in their multi-layered voice.
“Okay!” Pursuit replied enthusiastically, the speed of their reply jostling the mech on their chest.
“I- what?” the insecticon sputtered.
Pursuit didn’t have an answer either.
Using the confusion as an opening, Pursuit shoved the mech off and shot to their feet, the other mech doing the same.
“Woah- hey! What’s your business here?” Pursuit demanded, open palms raised to show that they had no weapon. “What’s a mech like you doing on a moon like this?”
“I am not here to play games, Autobot!” their opponent snapped, beginning to creep a circle around Pursuit with those fascinating, multi-jointed legs. The stabilizers they must have… Pursuit was getting distracted again.
“Oh? Am I not allowed to put a designation to the faceplates, Decepticon?” they inquired sarcastically. Their opponent growled, standing straight and proud.
“I am Caldera of The Nemesis.” he announced, wings arching. Pursuit cycled a vent.
“Beautiful.” they breathed.
Caldera blinked.
“A-and just who exactly are you?” he spat, claws balling into sizzling fists. Pursuit raised a brow. He infiltrated their base but doesn’t even know who he’s tasked with killing? Strange.
“Pursuit. Of Vos.” they winked, their opponent spluttered.
“I-I thought all military-able Vosnians were conscripted under Winglord Starscream!” he spat indignantly. Pursuit sighed.
“Yes, I know. A traitor. Shocking. That’s ancient history now, Cal-der-a.” they emphasized every syllable flirtatiously, knowing that they were laying it on pretty thick at this point. “I’d rather concentrate on the mech I’ve got in front of me now, thanks.” It seemed to be having the opposite effect to what Pursuit wanted, their opponent now growling.
“D-do not insult me, Autobot!” he pointed a shaky talon at Pursuit. “I am here to end your life!”
“I’m pretty sure I can’t be your target, Caldera. You didn’t even know who I was-”
“Shut your yapping intake, Autobot!” he squinted. “If you even have one under that stupid mask...”
“I do, thanks.” they stated. The new guy is a bit of a mask-hypocrite, evidently. “And again, it’s Pursuit. I’m known for much more than just being an Autobot, by the way.”
“Like what, Autobot.” Caldera hissed back. Pursuit stood tall, shaking off some dust.
“Well- first is my artful security systems-”
“That I got past.” he interrupted, visibly unimpressed. Ow.
“Yeah and I would really like to know how you did that.” Pursuit snapped. “ Anyways- I’m known for my mastery of the skies-”
“Says every seeker.” Caldera scoffed.
“-And the great work I did as an Autobot High Guard General.” They did a showy bow, not catching the slight way Caldera’s optic twitched. “Also not mentioning the looks- I’d hope it went without saying. The finials are pretty signature, among other things.” Pursuit flexed their arms and wings, flicking their finials and showing off the High Guard insignia.
Caldera looked like he wanted to die. Or purge. Or kill Pursuit.
Likely all options.
The Incecticon’s vocalizer skipped in a drawn-out scream, throwing his red-hot servos in the air in frustration.
“This is useless! You are useless! I finally get sent on a new mission and I have to face you?!” he spat, beginning to shiver “A has-been general of a glorified relay station! Is this all I have been reduced to? Petty reconnaissance light-years away from where I can best be used?!”
“Mech- I don’t think I’m to blame for any of that-”
“Quiet!” Caldera snapped, brazenly turning his back on Pursuit to resume his ranting, flicking his wings. “Killing was going to be a fun bonus for this mission- and you can’t even do that!”
Pursuit was very confused.
“I couldn’t let you… kill me?” they asked tentatively.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Caldera screeched over his shoulder. Wow, Pursuit thought. You really know how to choose ‘em.
“-And now I can’t even get a simple comm through!” he lashed out, punching a nearby relay antenna and denting it badly. Strong. Very strong, Pursuit noted approvingly.
No- No! Not approval! That’s important equipment!
“Hey- Hey! Don’t punch random things! Those are vital!” Pursuit stated angrily, Caldera whipping around and dropping into a defensive position.
“Or what?” he challenged, long neck craning a difficult angle and shivering concerningly.
“Mech- listen. If you need to send a message, I run this entire relay station.” Pursuit tried. “This moon is weakly magnetic, so normal comms don't make it off. I could help you out!” They hoped their friendly smile was evident in their voice, anything to make this mech stop punching shit. Caldera looked them up and down apprehensively.
“Why.” he asked bluntly.
Pursuit shrugged, sighing.
“I don’t know mech- I don’t want to fight you. I don’t feel like getting killed either." Although by you it’d be a pleasure- "I figured we could work out a truce. Helping you out would do us both good.” Yes, stick the landing, Pursuit.
Caldera stood out of their combative guarding, wide optics sliding from Pursuit to the empty, frigid landscape of the moon around them.
“Is the inside… Warm?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.
Pursuit blinked.
“Oh! Yeah, of course it is! Are you cold? I mean- obviously yeah it’s cold out here but- Oh scrap it’s almost night, we should definitely get inside the bunker! It gets much colder at night. Follow me.” Pursuit stuttered quickly, transforming into jet form and shooting off towards the entrance hatch.
Caldera grumbled, watching the Autobot “Perr-sewt” shoot off into the air, leaving him behind. Times like these really make him wish he had an actual alt mode. Would it have killed Shockwave to give him one? It probably would’ve killed Caldera, given his already overtaxed spark and damaged protoform. He sighed, it felt like just yesterday that he got his life-saving modifications. All those scarring surgeries and compounding recovery cycles that haunt his recharge despite the time that has passed. Good times.
Caldera felt joyously self-indulgent, being this ungrateful.
Stomping across the frigid moon’s surface, he took in his host’s alt mode as it soared gracefully across the sky.
Showoff.
Smooth, interlocking angles made up the large jet, dark teal plating complimenting deep red with tracing biolights of orange. They were very pretty.
It pissed him off.
Leaping off the dusty ground, he jutted out his wings, beginning their rapid buzz to carry himself over the landscape. He didn’t have the Autobot’s powerful engine-propelled thrusters but he could fly just fine. Insecticon wings had their drawbacks but at least they didn’t risk slamming into everything…
The Autobot transformed ahead of him, touching down in front of a large circular hatch. Catching up, Caldera transformed away his wings and landed heavily across from them. Pursuit’s orange optics crinkled in that way they do when mechs with masks are smiling. Caldera glared daggers in response.
Stupid, trusting Autobots and their stupid, indulgent generosity. That’s why they’re losing this stupid war. They’re too nice.
Caldera’s fatigue was creeping into the sides of his vision, staving off the cold for so long was taking its toll on his spark. He didn’t want to have to recharge anywhere near this dumb, flirty Autobot, but he might not have any other choice soon.
The hatch spiraled open, revealing dusty ground and lit tunnels beneath them, Pursuit stepping confidently into the pit. Caldera eyed the opening apprehensively, they didn’t particularly care for the underground. Call it leftover seeker coding. Not a burrowing Insecticon, it made him anxious.
“Caldera? You coming?” Pursuit’s silky, deep voice echoed up. Caldera growled in response, hopping down through the hatch.
As the entrance spiraled closed behind him as he hit the ground, Caldera took in the beige walls, beige ceilings and beige floor. Boring. At least the halls were wide and tall, fitting the striding wingspan of their Autobot host easily.
“Just a bit farther!” they called over their broad shoulders. Caldera dragged their pedes behind them, noticing all the locked doors and exits of the bunker as they traced a path through the halls.
Caldera was kicking himself. Of course, trust the Autobot- why not? It’s not as if they’re the adversary in their literal civil war. What a way to die, as well. Reverse-ambushed by a washed-up old general in their own relay station. Stabbed in the gut by some rinky-dink defensive forearm blades on his highest-stakes mission yet.
Shockwave’s patience with Caldera had run out. The past few decavorns had been percieved failure after failure. A messy assassination here, some bad teamwork there. The mechs who needed to die still got dead, but Caldera simply… didn’t care as much, anymore.
Doing his best always ended in disaster, in the long run, so why would he try anymore. Who cares if he gets hurt or if some other mech is collateral damage, the pet is still in line. Mostly.
Spy here, kill them, rendezvous here, sit, stay, roll over, fetch. He did what was asked, nothing more.
But it wasn’t enough.
Shockwave found his dispassion inefficient, Caldera’s beloved creator providing him with an ultimatum; Go above the brief and retrieve some actually helpful intel from this base, or Shockwave gets to take him apart and put him back together in the shape of something actually useful.
Turning a final corner, Pursuit ushered him into a dark server room lit by blinking lights and small statistical displays, familiar. The far wall held a massive array of cords and wires around a small computer screen and switchboard.
“Knock yourself out.” they stated, gesturing towards the computer. “Oh and- don’t try anything. I can see everything you type and have to approve every message before it gets sent out.” tapping the side of their helm, indicating that they were watching on their HUD. “I’ll approve any message that tells your commanders that there’s nothing and no one interesting here- aside from you, of course- and to come and get you at their leisure. Throw in that you killed me, or something. I’d love to be dead to Decepticon High Command.” Pursuit outlined in a very final tone, playfulness gone. Caldera’s tank lurched, a pit forming. He hesitantly glanced from Pursuit to the computer, wondering how he can spin this to not get torn apart and reconstructed. He can’t bring back nothing, but Pursuit won’t let him go if they suspect encoded messages. Tapping his claws anxiously, he felt his creeping fatigue interfere with his processor, barring him from holding onto an idea too tightly.
“...Well?” Pursuit prompted, leaning against the wire-covered server desk. “Tell them what you need to, I don’t mind waiting.” Caldera hissed in response, shaking his helm out.
This soft-sparked Autobot, giving him so many opportunities to destroy important material and gather information… they’d probably help him gather information if he told them to...
He considered the impasse they were at, perhaps the truth would actually be the best course of action here- he could always kill the Autobot if they became too much of a problem. Caldera huffed- but he didn’t know how complex their system integration to this bunker was, if Caldera killed them, it might leave him locked in and stranded. He glared up at Pursuit, who flicked a finial and winked back again.
Adaptus save him.
“I… cannot.” he conceded. “Command would be… displeased with my lack of information.” Pursuit rolled their optics.
“When are the ‘cons not displeased? I’m sure they’ll get over it.” They dismissed.
“No- ah…” Caldera stuttered, looking at his pedes. “I would be… Punished. Severely.” He cringed at himself, hating having to admit it. He was so pathetic like this.
“My Commander, Shockwave, is… creative, with his punishments.” He spat out, avoiding Pursuit’s distressed gaze.
“Oh Primus… Sorry Caldera, I had no idea-”
“Save it! I cannot leave here without substantial information from this outpost.” He glared back up at Pursuit, whose optics were furrowed in confusion.
“You.” Caldera shot out a claw at them, making them flinch. “Give me. Information” he spelled out, as if to a newspark. “I. Leave.”
Pursuit laughed.
“Caldera, I can’t just give you vital information.” they explained. Caldera snarled under his mask.
“Then it appears we are at an impasse! I cannot survive the distance to any other planet through open space, so it is either that, or I kill both of us in this stupid, dusty, beige bunker of failure and regret!”
The way the Autobot cringed satisfied Caldera’s sick spark.
“Okay! All right, mech. Weirdly personal all of a sudden, Primus.” They waved their servos. “Again, I can’t give you important information.” They tilted their helm, thinking.
“But… we could look for some… outdated information that appears useful!” Pursuit beamed down at Caldera.
“That is a stupid idea. Decepticon intelligence is too efficient.” he squinted.
“Oh come on, we could at least try!” They bounced on their pedes childishly, looking very silly at that size. “Do you have a time limit?”
Caldera shook his helm.
“None. This assignment had very few outlined conditions.” he noted. It was true, the brief was suspiciously short and lacked any rendezvous information.
“Great! If you give me some time, I can go through my older logs for some almost relevant information!” Pursuit stated excitedly, pausing and resetting their vox, evidently embarrassed.
“I mean. If you’d be amenable.”
Caldera considered his options again. It wasn’t all that fun on the ship he called home, The Darksyde, the standards were raising faster than his modifications could keep up and the glow of Shockwave’s optic was less… enthusiastic when it fell on Caldera. Nothing had been the same after what Caldera did. His spark felt more faint more often. His temperatures were more sustainable but they left him, like he felt now, tired.
He just wanted to recharge.
“...Fine.” he grumbled. “If your information is unsatisfactory, I will kill you.”
To Pursuit’s credit, they contained their excitement this time.
“Alright.” they nodded. “Just to be safe though, I will be confining you to select parts of the base. I can see you wherever you go but I would like to make sure you don’t get into slag you aren’t supposed to be in.”
Caldera’s optic twitched. He didn’t want to be confined again, but it was the logical course of action.
“Cmon.” they beckoned as the two of them left the dark server room, turning down another tunnel and opening a sliding door. “Make yourself at home.”
Caldera took in his new prison, beige walls, slightly inclined recharge slab next to a free standing table against the wall and fluorescent strip lighting lining all around the ceiling. Boring, but not torturously so. He’s been confined to worse.
Stepping inside, Caldera turned back to face Pursuit, who pressed an energon cube into his servo and stepped back confidently.
“I’m gonna get right on one of the earlier archives and hit you with a few options when I find them! I am still gonna lock you in here, sorry. If you need me for something… I don’t know- just do something suspicious and the system will notify me. Get some rest, beautiful!” Pursuit added, sliding the heavy metal door shut and audibly locking it in his faceplates.
Caldera stared down at the full cube in his talons, prying his intake mask off to take a cautious sip. Unpoisoned.
He slowly stepped over to the empty table, folding himself under it and inching into the corner, sipping the rest of the cube.
In his heat-damaged gut, he knew something would go wrong. Pursuit was the first Autobot he had spoken to that he was not acting on orders to kill. It was new territory for him, compromising for a goal.
He didn’t like it.
His fuel pump cramped, in the way it usually does with harsher mixes of energon, making him shudder.
At least he wasn’t cold in here...