[TF] The Sanctuary
Apr. 20th, 2022 07:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: The Sanctuary
Universe: Consortium, Pre-The Prime’s Consorts
Characters: Soundwave, Blaster, Rewind
Rated: T
Description: Blaster’s doing all he can to keep the lights on when Soundwave comes to him with an unfortunate truth.
There’s never enough of anything.
Blaster gnaws on his bottom lip as he reviews their inventory, the available funds in their secret account, and their current population. There’s not enough credits, there aren’t enough fuel filters, and there’s certainly not enough energon.
He has to find a way to increase their income. He can’t force Soundwave any further into debt than he already is. It’s not fair to him.
The light rap of knuckles on the door frame makes him look up to see Rewind loitering, a datapad clutched to his chest. Blaster can already tell from their bond he’s not going to like what Rewind has to say.
“Another one?” Blaster asks.
Rewind nods, and there’s a flicker from the camera lens attached to his head. “It’s bad.”
Frag. Another expense.
Blaster scrubs at his forehelm. “Did you call Glit?”
“He’s on his way.” Rewind drags in a shuddery ventilation, clutching the datapad tighter. “There were three of them, plus their carrier.”
“Were?” Blaster echoes.
Rewind steps further inside so the door can close. “Their carrier is not going to make it. I think he used whatever he had left to get them here. One was already gone, one is on the edge, and the third might get lucky. If Glit gets here in time.”
Primus.
“Do we know where they’re from? How they got here? Who might be looking for them?” Blaster drags over an empty datapad and gestures to Rewind, switching it for the one with all of the information on their new arrivals. “Steeljaw might need to try and track their path. Make sure no one saw them.”
“He’s already on it,” Rewind says. He moves a few things aside and hops up on the desk, his field reaching out for comfort like it hasn’t in months.
Oh. It must be bad.
“They’re coming faster now,” Rewind points out.
“I know,” Blaster says. He pats Rewind on the knee, offering comfort as best he can. Within him, Eject stirs, perhaps sensing his twin’s disquiet.
“We can’t save them all.” Rewind hangs his head, misery wafting from him.
“No, but we can try.”
Blaster’s door pings. He and Rewind both look toward it, confused. “What now?” Blaster wonders aloud as he presses the button to allow the visitor to enter. They can’t have gotten all the way to his office if they meant him any harm.
And this visitor certainly doesn’t.
The door opens, and Soundwave ducks inside, Laserbeak perched on his shoulder, but Ravage nowhere in sight. Likely he’d seen Steeljaw on the hunt and went to join. Ravage never could resist a good hunt.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Blaster says, surprised. “I thought we agreed you were going to stop coming here directly.”
“Circumstances changed,” Soundwave says. He straightens, glancing over the both of them, and there’s no way he’s missed the heavy emotion in the room. “Issues?”
“Too many to name,” Blaster says with a sigh. He pats Rewind’s knee and pops his deck. “Take a nap, kiddo. I think you could use it.”
For once, Rewind doesn’t protest. He folds himself up and slots into Blaster’s dock, right next to his twin, and their fields instantly intertwine. Pulses of warmth and affection exchange between them in rapid-fire bursts that put a smile on Blaster’s face, however brief.
It’s about as much privacy as he can get for Soundwave, because Soundwave might be able to read the anxiety in the room, but Blaster’s been working for Soundwave long enough to read the agitation in his old friend’s field.
“What’s wrong?” Blaster asks.
Soundwave cycles a ventilation and takes a seat, back straight, hands on his knees. “Politics,” he says, static thick in his vocalizer, and it must be terrible, because normally he disengages it for Blaster’s sake. “Ratbat’s expectations. Nomination to Prime Consort.”
“Wait.” Blaster holds up a hand, running that disjointed speech through his experiences with Soundwave. “Ratbat’s nominating you to be one of the Prime’s Consorts? Is he fragging serious?”
“Spy desired,” Soundwave says, and his hands tighten on his knees, knuckles creaking. “Funding eliminated if refused.”
Blaster’s spark squeezes into a tiny ball – all of those mechs who come to them, those carriers, their symbiotes, desperate to escape their circumstances, to hide from cruel masters. They’d have nowhere else to turn if the safehouse lost its funding. Blaster can’t support them on his own, and he can’t imagine what else Soundwave might suffer for refusing.
Blaster already knows Soundwave won’t.
He’s aware that their current Prime had offlined and a new one had been selected, and because of that, new Consorts would be nominated. But it had seemed a distant, unimportant political problem. What use did Blaster have for Primes here in the dank and dark, struggling to keep themselves supplied and keep the mechs who trusted them alive? Primes didn’t care what abuses the lower classes suffered.
“Primus, Soundwave.” Blaster braces his elbows on the desk, rubbing his hands over his chin as he tries to process this. “I can’t believe – no, the worst part is that I can actually believe it.”
He’s heard enough stories to fear what Soundwave is about to endure.
“You don’t have to do it,” Blaster says. He knows Soundwave is going to refuse, but he has to try nonetheless. “We have our contacts. I can get you out. We can find other ways to fund the shelter. We can–”
He quiets because Soundwave shakes his head. Laserbeak makes a soft cooing sound and nuzzles the side of his face.
“This important,” he says, and his visor blazes a deep, vibrant crimson. “Most important.” He cycles a ventilation, stronger than the one before it. “It will be done.”
Blaster sighs. “All right,” he says. “What do you need me to do?”
***
Universe: Consortium, Pre-The Prime’s Consorts
Characters: Soundwave, Blaster, Rewind
Rated: T
Description: Blaster’s doing all he can to keep the lights on when Soundwave comes to him with an unfortunate truth.
There’s never enough of anything.
Blaster gnaws on his bottom lip as he reviews their inventory, the available funds in their secret account, and their current population. There’s not enough credits, there aren’t enough fuel filters, and there’s certainly not enough energon.
He has to find a way to increase their income. He can’t force Soundwave any further into debt than he already is. It’s not fair to him.
The light rap of knuckles on the door frame makes him look up to see Rewind loitering, a datapad clutched to his chest. Blaster can already tell from their bond he’s not going to like what Rewind has to say.
“Another one?” Blaster asks.
Rewind nods, and there’s a flicker from the camera lens attached to his head. “It’s bad.”
Frag. Another expense.
Blaster scrubs at his forehelm. “Did you call Glit?”
“He’s on his way.” Rewind drags in a shuddery ventilation, clutching the datapad tighter. “There were three of them, plus their carrier.”
“Were?” Blaster echoes.
Rewind steps further inside so the door can close. “Their carrier is not going to make it. I think he used whatever he had left to get them here. One was already gone, one is on the edge, and the third might get lucky. If Glit gets here in time.”
Primus.
“Do we know where they’re from? How they got here? Who might be looking for them?” Blaster drags over an empty datapad and gestures to Rewind, switching it for the one with all of the information on their new arrivals. “Steeljaw might need to try and track their path. Make sure no one saw them.”
“He’s already on it,” Rewind says. He moves a few things aside and hops up on the desk, his field reaching out for comfort like it hasn’t in months.
Oh. It must be bad.
“They’re coming faster now,” Rewind points out.
“I know,” Blaster says. He pats Rewind on the knee, offering comfort as best he can. Within him, Eject stirs, perhaps sensing his twin’s disquiet.
“We can’t save them all.” Rewind hangs his head, misery wafting from him.
“No, but we can try.”
Blaster’s door pings. He and Rewind both look toward it, confused. “What now?” Blaster wonders aloud as he presses the button to allow the visitor to enter. They can’t have gotten all the way to his office if they meant him any harm.
And this visitor certainly doesn’t.
The door opens, and Soundwave ducks inside, Laserbeak perched on his shoulder, but Ravage nowhere in sight. Likely he’d seen Steeljaw on the hunt and went to join. Ravage never could resist a good hunt.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Blaster says, surprised. “I thought we agreed you were going to stop coming here directly.”
“Circumstances changed,” Soundwave says. He straightens, glancing over the both of them, and there’s no way he’s missed the heavy emotion in the room. “Issues?”
“Too many to name,” Blaster says with a sigh. He pats Rewind’s knee and pops his deck. “Take a nap, kiddo. I think you could use it.”
For once, Rewind doesn’t protest. He folds himself up and slots into Blaster’s dock, right next to his twin, and their fields instantly intertwine. Pulses of warmth and affection exchange between them in rapid-fire bursts that put a smile on Blaster’s face, however brief.
It’s about as much privacy as he can get for Soundwave, because Soundwave might be able to read the anxiety in the room, but Blaster’s been working for Soundwave long enough to read the agitation in his old friend’s field.
“What’s wrong?” Blaster asks.
Soundwave cycles a ventilation and takes a seat, back straight, hands on his knees. “Politics,” he says, static thick in his vocalizer, and it must be terrible, because normally he disengages it for Blaster’s sake. “Ratbat’s expectations. Nomination to Prime Consort.”
“Wait.” Blaster holds up a hand, running that disjointed speech through his experiences with Soundwave. “Ratbat’s nominating you to be one of the Prime’s Consorts? Is he fragging serious?”
“Spy desired,” Soundwave says, and his hands tighten on his knees, knuckles creaking. “Funding eliminated if refused.”
Blaster’s spark squeezes into a tiny ball – all of those mechs who come to them, those carriers, their symbiotes, desperate to escape their circumstances, to hide from cruel masters. They’d have nowhere else to turn if the safehouse lost its funding. Blaster can’t support them on his own, and he can’t imagine what else Soundwave might suffer for refusing.
Blaster already knows Soundwave won’t.
He’s aware that their current Prime had offlined and a new one had been selected, and because of that, new Consorts would be nominated. But it had seemed a distant, unimportant political problem. What use did Blaster have for Primes here in the dank and dark, struggling to keep themselves supplied and keep the mechs who trusted them alive? Primes didn’t care what abuses the lower classes suffered.
“Primus, Soundwave.” Blaster braces his elbows on the desk, rubbing his hands over his chin as he tries to process this. “I can’t believe – no, the worst part is that I can actually believe it.”
He’s heard enough stories to fear what Soundwave is about to endure.
“You don’t have to do it,” Blaster says. He knows Soundwave is going to refuse, but he has to try nonetheless. “We have our contacts. I can get you out. We can find other ways to fund the shelter. We can–”
He quiets because Soundwave shakes his head. Laserbeak makes a soft cooing sound and nuzzles the side of his face.
“This important,” he says, and his visor blazes a deep, vibrant crimson. “Most important.” He cycles a ventilation, stronger than the one before it. “It will be done.”
Blaster sighs. “All right,” he says. “What do you need me to do?”
