Chapter Text
Air and wind whipped around Thundercracker's frame as he soared over the tree tops. Birds startled from the canopy, fluttering away as fast as they could. Branches bent and swayed with the sheer force of the displaced air.
His engines and thrusters kicked down a gear, settling into a slow but comfortable pace. Thundercracker watched it all with a sense of removal. The blue Earth sky shone brightly, unblemished by clouds.
Down below, the forest was starting to dwindle. Grand trees gave way to shrubs and undergrowth. Bright healthy greens and browns dotted with the occasional burst of colors from flowers. Thundercracker had always had a soft spot for Earth’s flora and fauna. Wisteria was one of his favorites, the hanging vines that draped down trees and lilac color reminding him of Skywarp’s accents.
Tall grass flattened in the jet's wake, bending to his will without command. Smoke drifted into the otherwise clear sky as Thundercracker transformed into his base mode and eased his thrusters to the ground. Stomping out a spare ember, the blue mech took in his surroundings.
Most of his orn was to be filled with mindless patrols and scouting. Which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't tasked to do it alone. Starscream was busy with drills and whatever nonsense Megatron decided to dish out and Skywarp had managed to piss off Soundwave leaving him with cleaning the wash racks and messhall.
Flattening the grass underpede, Thundercracker walked across the clearing. A few shrubs and low to the ground flora broke apart the prolific grass. Signs of animals were present too, like a well trodden path free of most plants, droppings nestled between leaves and intricately woven biological structures providing housing for small mammals.
The quiet scenery was a nice change of pace from the clamor and destruction of war. Moments like these reminded him of Cybertron, of the nights spent flying through air, twirling and gliding with his trinemates. He never paused to think how lucky he truly was in those moments.
Things are different now. Things have been different for a while. Cybertron was dead, he rarely had time for his trine, mechs around him just kept falling. Everything was shattered, there was no use trying to pick up the pieces. Yet here he was regardless.
Dirt gave way to gravel as Thundercracker neared his destination. There was a large abandoned warehouse, rusted and overgrown with weeds. Humans had long since left it for ruin making it a perfect hideout. An energon mine was located within a 50 mile radius, honestly it was a miracle that the autobots had yet to find this.
In his initial sweep, around an Earth week ago, he had seen the gravel path from overhead and reported it to his trine leader. They still had a job to do so the path was left alone for further investigation, leading to today.
Thundercracker nudged the doors open with his arm, charging his null-rays just to be safe. Optics adjusted quickly, taking in the dust, cobwebs and other miscellaneous junk littered around the place. This place was a fragging scrap heap. It would take multiple vechicicons to sort out all the old creates and equipment. At least the likelihood for him and his trine having to clean it was low. Well him and Starscream, if Skywarp kept acting up Soundwave might make the jet clean the place alone.
His thrusters clicked and echoed on the floor, disrupting the otherwise hushed environment. The space had a few boarded up windows, letting in limited light. Red optics quickly adjusted to the change, brightening slightly. Cargo crates and half constructed mechanical projects dotted around the space. Cobwebs weaved their way into empty spaces, making claim.
Sweeping through the area, Thundercracker kept track of any human junk that could be of use, like metal and ore. Each finding was noted with methodical precision, no shadow left unchecked.
Large crates blanketed the back wall of the warehouse completely, hindering the visibility of the actual wall. Igniting his thrusters on low power, Thundercracker pivoted above the cargo, landing on the other side of the barricade.
On high alert, his optics scanned the new area. This part of the warehouse was different, blocked off and shielded from the rest via meticulously placed obstacles. It was clear to him that someone, or something must have moved these crates deliberately.
Less dust coated the floor and surfaces, though some still wafted through the air at the disturbance the mech caused. More boxes rested in the corner, creating an almost room. Thundercracker’s Nullrays hummed to life at his sides, emanating a warm purple-pink glow. Each pede step led him closer to the alcove, to the unknown behind it.
Dried energon flaked on the floor, having coagulated with the dust, creating a sort of—now dried—mud. Cracks formed in preserved fluids from prolonged lack of moisture. It looked as if someone was drug across the dingy floor. Shallow claw marks scrambled their way further into the recess.
Now fully inside, and also fully exposed, Thundercracker was granted full vision of the source of energon.
A grayed husk was slumped over wooden crates. The crates seemed to be mimicking a makeshift bed, with an old tarp for insulation. Door wings, or better yet, sensor wings, adorned the deceased back. Once pristine glass now dusty and shattered.
Thundercracker sighed, powering down his null rays. War had many casualties, even on a planet so far from home, death still seemed to follow. Gently reaching out, the seeker grabbed the frame shoulder, flipping it to give a better view.
The protomesh on the bots armor was misshapen and melted, common on blaster fire victims. A worn red insignia marred their otherwise dull chassis. Why would an autobot be out here? Alone at that… And for the death to not be reported? Most vechicicons and seekers were competent enough to report cross faction skirmishes. Pit, they frequently embellished the truth in order to build up their nonexistent valor.
His servo came to rest over the scuffed crest, optical dimming out of respect for the fallen. This mech wasn't one he knew by name, most likely an underling or a grunt. They could possibly be a scout, that would explain why they were found alone.
“May your spark find the Allspark.” Thundercracker hesitated before removing his servo, holding in there longer than necessary. The energon underpede had long since dried, the mechs plating had grayed and weakened, so then why did their hood emit warmth?
Unease wormed its way into his spark, eating away like a maggot to rotting food. The stories Warp used to tell during their military academy days of scrapplets hidden under plating come to the front of his processor.
Pushing down youngling make-pretend monsters, his hand lowered to the latch of their hood. It felt odd staying around an empty frame for so long, yet something about this situation wasn't right. Why would a scout, some bot meant to be on the move, be adaptable, free of ties, decide to create this almost homely environment? Simple belongings, make-shift berth, hidden from view.
An inner mechanism released, letting the grayed hood lift with ease. The joints had yet to rust thankfully, further proof that the death wasn't too old.
Thundercracker looked into the empty compartment. Another tarp was balled up in a sort of nest-like shape. He let out a slow vent, anxieties lessening and battle protocols starting to dwindle. As he was about to close the hood, the tarp inside rustled.
All other sounds seemed to stop. The steady crinkling of plastic seemed deafening in the warehouse. Shifting the tarp aside, the jet peered further. Curled around the tarp and a few mechanical rags, was a squirming, gray, but undoubtedly alive sparkling.