Transformers: World War II

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike lumbered back to Coldstaph with his salvage. People were coming out of the secure bunkers now that the fighting was over. "Deathstrike!"

He turned his head. Stephanie was marching towards him. "I have extensive damage. New parts acquired."

"I can see that," she replied, trying to stay calm. She looked up into those alien optics. Deathstrike's face wasn't like those of the Autobots. Instead of a "face" peering out of a helmet, his head resembled a full helm The face area was marked with a recessed pair of optic housings and a mouth at the bottom. Perversely, it made relating to him easier. There was less danger of tricking herself into believing he thought like humans did.

"Why don't you sit down and give me a display?" she said.

The tall Decepticon sat down. Light flashed from his optics, sketching a holographic damage display. "Bloody hell," said Stephanie.

[Dark Silver]

Fortress Coldstaph
Narva, Estonia
One Month Later


A month ago, the Combaticons had lead a assault on the newly captured fortress of Coldstaph, hoping to route the fledgling Allied presence, and re-secure the base for their own use.

A month ago, the Autobots and the former Decepticon Deathstrike arrived, and the fight was taken to the Decepticon backed Nazi troops. The Combaticons found themselves defeated, routed, and their human allies decimated.

It took a month for the damage to be repaired, and Coldstaph to be brought back into order. Allied command had not spent the month idle, throughout the rest of the world, War waged on, Decepticon and Nazi forces raged against the Allies and their Autobot fellows.

In Estonia, the battle was not forgotten, no less than three smaller battles occured in the intervening month, the Allied humans and the Joe special-forces, backed by the occasional Autobot in the field.

Nearly thirty days after their first arrival, the first reinforcements were swarming into Coldstaph. The bay outside of Narva swarmed with military ships, patrolling and offloading military equipment and men.

Most importantly, where several new Autobots, sent by the venerable Optimus Prime, with a mission.

Things were coming to a head, and quickly.

The big push was coming soon, the fight being taken straight to the Nazi homeland, and their leaders.

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike lifted and then dropped his queen's bishop ahead right two spaces diagonally. The huge robot handled the chess piece, tiny in his grasp, with predictably mechanical precision. "They're watching us."

"Of course they're watching us," said Stephanie. The two had room to play chess outdoors. Interior space was too valuable to have a giant robot sit around and take up huge amounts of it just to play chess. "You may not have noticed, but they're aren't a lot of beautiful women wandering around this base, nor are their large numbers of armed Decepticon traitors."

"I suppose I am," said Deathstrike. "A traitor to Megatron twice over."

"Are you alright?" Stephanie asked.

"No, I suppose I am not."

She studied the chess board in silence for a couple of minutes. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Yes."

"Why were you a Decepticon?"

"At first it was because I was built to be. Then it was because all my friends were the comrades I fought beside and all the people I admired were our leaders. Then it was because the Autobots were killing my friends."

"So the justice of your cause was something you didn't care about?"

"The Autobots bleat about rights and justice, but the histories show it was our ancestors who were second class citizens on Cybertron. Megatron and Shockwave has a responsibility to wage war as ruthlessly and effectively as possible."

"And that Megatron is a tyrant doesn't bother you? That he allies himself with the Nazis doesn't disturb you at all?"

"Megatron is a tyrant. He is powerful and ruthless; he has no weaknesses. He is worthy to lead. As is Optimus Prime. A successful war requires a clear command hierarchy. Prime is powerful and honourable, but he does not embrace war. That is why despite their advantages we have ground the Autobots down."

"We?" she asked pointedly.

"I fight for you and I fight for Canada and for this world," said Deathstrike. "I do not fight for the killers of my brothers."

"You didn't answer my question about Hitler."

"The whole world hates Jews," said Deathstrike. "Your moral Allied nations consider blacks and orientals and women inferior and were perfectly happy to back Hitler when he looked like a good bulwark against Communism. Nazi tyranny was considered a better solution to the Communist threat than social justice. The Nazis are worse than the Allies, but it is a matter of degree. Megatron would have made his choice, if he made such a choice, based on purely practical considerations. Weighing two evils and agonizing over which one is worse is for Autobots."

"Wait. Back up. You said if Megatron made a such a choice. What do you mean by that?"

"What you would call intuition, but it is conscious in me. The nature of the alliance contradicts known behavior patterns of Decepticons. Megatron should clearly be a more visibly dominant partner. Therefore there are variables affecting the situation that I am not aware of."

She was silent for a moment. "You think Cobra Commander has something on Megatron. Something that makes him more cooperative?"

"Cobra Commander wears the Matrix. I do not understand why Megatron does not simply take it from him. Perhaps he was it wired with explosives. It is a great prize. But I do not know."

[LadyTevar]

Pathfinder had taken a earth-week to get back to his normal self after the victory. He'd seen the cost in human lives as he'd washed their remains out of his joints. Brawl's weapon had killed them before Pathfinder fell on them, but it was still very sobering for the usually vivacious Autobot to see just how fragile their human allies were.

As Deathstrike played chess, Pathfinder was watching him, mostly out of curiousity over the way he treated the human female. The Decepticon did his part, pulled his weight, got shot up like the rest of them, but Pathfinder doubted he'd ever have the calm confidence that Stephanie showed around Deathstrike. Too many centuries of warfare, of conflict. Too many friends gone.

The Autobot looked away, seeing someone he'd rather talk with. "Yo, Hunter! When's the next poker game?" Hunter had made the mistake of teaching Pathfinder how to play. Humans had nothing on a robot's 'PokerFace'.

[SirNitram]

Overload was making trips to and from the docks, working as logistical support always does. As the train once again rolled in, he transformed and carried containers around. Eventually, he hauled a pair to the Canadian woman and the ever-shunned Deathstrike. "Special delivery from your friends back home, miss, and the best spares I could scavenge for you, Deathstrike. Won't give you the heat dissipation of the real thing, but it's what I can do."

Overload knew quite well what Deathstrike thought of him and others. But he had worked with Decepticons, back before, against the Devourer. He knew those like Deathstryke earned their stripes the hard way, and perhaps he could help. It was, ultimately, a gesture of kindness.

[Cynical Cat]

"Thank you very much," said Deathstrike. He wasn't used to kindness from Autobots. It made him uncomfortable. He pointed at the chest board to change the subject. "Do you play?"

[General Havoc]

Cavalier hated downtime. A certain amount of it was inevitable of course, and time spent getting pieced back together didn't really count in his opinion. That was the aftereffect of jobs well done. But lounging about waiting for the next operation was not something he found ideal or enjoyable. Not when there were scores to run up and enemies to go after.

And so Cavalier had spent much of the last month out on operations, deep patrols, independent strikes, and the like. The bag hadn't been particularly impressive, but such as it was, he'd collected it. Usually he'd been the only Autobot within a hundred miles, fighting by himself or in conjunction with Allied and Joe strike forces, for whom the addition of a single Cybertronian-armed tank was an enormous multiplier of firepower. And no tank, no matter how arrogant, ever actually forgot the incomparable benefit of having some supporting infantry... even if he didn't mention it to them.

Still, nothing major had happened for the last week or two, save for persistent rumors of re-enforcements and upcoming assaults. There hadn't even been any patrols to take on recently, and Cavalier was becoming restless. Pathfinder had taken an inordinately (he thought) long time to get back into fighting form, and the others were either busy with logistics and repairs, or otherwise occupied. It was about time they had a big push.

He spotted Pathfinder over by a handful of Joes, and walked over briskly, catching the end of Pathfinder's question. He grinned. Unlike Pathfinder, Cavalier was almost wilfully bad at poker, having no understanding of the finer strategy of the game. Then again, money was very little object to an Autobot.

"So," he said, "you guys fixing to lose to me again?" He said this with a straight face, despite the fact that he had yet to wind up ahead in a single game.

*------------------------------------------------*

As Cavalier was considering losing yet further to Pathfinder and the other Joes, from the other side of the base, a small airplane was approaching.

The plane was painted silver and blue, with the round "bullseye" of the RAF stenciled onto its wings, but there was no mistaking this airplane for a Spitfire or Hurricane. For one thing it was of no visible relation to those designs, a twin-tailed snub-nosed fighter with a single jet engine propelling it forward at high speeds and low altitudes.

For another thing it was half the size of a normal plane.

It was moving fast, but it had an Autobot transponder and a valid clearance code, moving in from the northwest, from the direction of the harbor. Still, the little airplane did not land within the base but touched down nearby, shifted forms into a diminuative, human-shaped Autobot with airplane wings for arms, and after glancing around at his surroundings, slowly walked into the base.

Hornet's orders had been to report to this base, but they had not specified who he was to report to. Accordingly, still somewhat unsure of what sort of reception he was to receive, he walked over towards the two most visible bots in the area, whose names, though he did not yet know it, were Overload and Deathstrike, both of whom were standing near a female human of some sort.

Upon approaching, Hornet made a noise that sounded rather like clearing his throat, though of course he had no throat to clear.

"Um... 'scuse me?" he asked, sounding both timid and slightly afraid, "Are... are you in charge of this place? My name's... Hornet."

[Cynical Cat]

"Overload is in charge," Deathstrike said, pointing to the Autobot." Stephanie peered at the small Autobot curiously.

"Hello Hornet. I'm Stephanie Killian." She gestured towards the former Decepticon. "He's Deathstrike. How do you do?"

[SirNitram]

"Never had the time to pick it up, sorry." Overload replied to the flyer, before looking down, and down, to Hornet. There was a brief moment of stunned silence. Another one of his kind? Here? But after a moment, he remembered Wheeljacks.. Odd theories. This must be the fruition.

"Welcome, Hornet. You must be our newest recruit. Welcome to the Eastern Front."

[frigidmagi]

1938:

Code: Select all

System and software Activation Report
Primary Engine and Motivator System... Active/ Secondary Engine and Motivator System... Active/ Primary Gyrostablizer...Active/ Secondary Gyrsostablizer...Active/  Triteirary Gyrostablizer... Active/ Primary Transformation Cog... Active/ Secondary Transformation Cog... Active/  Triteirary Transformation Cog Active/Primary Limb gear system Active/ Secondary Limb gear system Active/ Primary Circulation System Active/ Secondary Circulation System Active/ Tritierary Circulation System Active/ Primary Shocks Absorber Inactive due to damage/ Secondary Shock Absorber Active/ Primary sensors Active/ Secondary sensors Active/ Triteirary sensors Active/ Primary coolant system Active/ Secondary coolant system Active/ Tritary coolant system Active/ Primary Power transfer system Active/ Secondary Power transfer system Active/ Triteriary power transfer system Active/ Primary governors Active/ Secondary governors Active/ Primary Sensor Processor Active/ Secondary Sensor Processor Active/ Triteirary Sensor Processor Active/ Primary Weapons Power feed System Active/ Secondary Weapon Power feed System Active/Primary Turret control system Active/ Secondary turret control system Active/ Primary Communication System  Active/ Secondary Communication System Active/ Treitary Communication Systems Active/Targeting software Active/ Battle Processor Active/ IFF software Active/ Communication software Active/ General Operational software Active

All Systems Active and in acceptable parameters.

Do You Wish To Go Online? Y/N

...
...
...

Y

I awaken from darkness slowly and with difficultly, confused and disoriented. I have been offline for a long time. This is bad. The sounds and sights that penetrate my confusion only serve to deepen it. I am not surrounded by Cybertronians, or any of the other space faring races I know of. Furthermore the technology I can detect is... primitive. Pre-computer or atomic. This is bad.

I am surrounded by biologicals. This is okay. I am used to operating with biological individuals and races and have done so many times. Most of them are brave. Most of them are honorable. Most of them make good music. This is an unknown race of biologicals. This is... could be good or bad. More data required.

They are bipedal and bilaterally symmetrical. They appear to communicate vocally. Cryptographic programs are written and put to use to see if I can learn their language. I learn several things quickly.

1: Their grammer rules are... nonsensical.

2: Vocabulary is rather extensive.

3: There appear to be many curse words.

4: I do not like it.

I am in vehicle mode. My last mode was that of a light tank for the League of Sapient Worlds, it was the last organized group I operated with in anti-Decepticon missions. The creatures are crawling across my hull seeking entry, taking measurements, working on it with tools. I do not care for this.

It is then I remember. I deactivated upon finding the Ark. Prime! Where is Prime? Where are the other Autobots? I run a scan. Several Autobots detected roughly 89 meters ahead. I attempt radio communication, and receive no response. Many of the other autobots have thinner armor then I do. What if they are being taken apart? More then one race has attempted disassembly of Cybertronians in order to better grasp our technological secrets. Several of the Autobots seemed in bad shape from the Arks crash when I discovered it. This is bad. I must act.

My engines rev to light, invoking screams and cries from the bipedal biological beings around me. I flip on my night lights in order to increase the awe and fear and begin to move forward.

The wall in front of me is made up a mixture of sand, rock and steel. I simply smash through it has biologics flee. There are several more walls to go through. This doesn't bother me. I find Prowl, Jazz and Bumblebee at the end of my run. Bumblebee is in sad shape, Jazz is awake.

"... Breakout?" He asks clearly confused. Armed biologicals come running after me and there is alot of screaming and shouting I don't understand...

This may not have been my best idea.

Early 1939

The biologics are called Humans. They are primitive, factionalized, planet bound. They are intelligent, driven and energetic. Bound by foolish notions that needlessly divide them. Unified in ways that I find mystifying. They labor constantly to rise above themselves. They secede nobly. They fail horribly. They never stop trying.

...

I am despite myself... Moved by them.

The Autobots are finally all in working shape and Prime has managed to ensure enough privatacy for my report. They're not going to like it. I step into a circle. Prime, Prowl, Jazz and Ironsides directly facing me. I am nervous.

My holographic systems project a rough map of the galaxy.

"I have not been on Cybertron for hundreds of thousands of Vorns. After Prime's and Megatron's disappearance, energy became harder to come by. Command and control began to break down. Towards the end of my stay, the Autobots were more like small bands of fighters united by a common ideology then an actual army. The Decepticons had problems comparable in scope. When I left the deserters numbered in the thousands on both sides." Dead silence greets my opening. It's only going to get worse.

"Many have joined peacefully with other races." A picture of Free Alliance Defense Force unit appears. There are 3 Cybertronians, 2 Autobots, 1 Decepticon alongside a number of other mechanical and biological members. There's a stir at this. Traditionally we are an isolationist race.

"Others have founded hidden colonies and communities. Most survivors claim Cybertron is a dead world. Ruined and lifeless now. All to many of those have carved empires in it's name." More pictures. The ruined landscape of Ceti Alpha V, a Flag with a Decepticon symbol above. The moon of Maresdown, with the same symbol torn into it. The galactic map shows blotches of purple.

"I have been engaged in 12,431 operations between my time on Cybertron and my crash landing here. All against these refugee empires. I have no reason to believe that more have been founded and or spread in the time since." I pause to consider. In a twisted way Megatron has achieved his goal. The details of many of those operations are downloaded into a shared data stream. Quite a few Autobots download and search. A concerned hum arises from the group.

"These empires do not share friendly relations or alliance. They are not unified. They will fight each other as often as not. Each ruler consider himself the rightful heir of Megatron. In this those who have not chosen such a path have helped the other races of the galaxy to resist. Their lack of cooperation has been our saving grace. Our War has spread. " I continue.

"There is one thing that could united these empires. One bot. If Megatron resurfaces into the greater galaxy those who survive will swear allegiance. It will mean the extinction of hundreds of sapient species. My fellow Autobots. Prime. I beg you. We must do whatever it takes to destroy Megatron." I say ending passionately. I do not point out the data coming in from the human named continent of Europe. Megatron and his Decepticons are active there. There is no hiding that from us. Ironhide slams his hand into his knee.

"Of all the... Prime, we can't just sit here!" Ironhide cries. Prime puts his hand on Ironhide's shoulder quieting him.

"This is important news you bring Breakout. Thankfully we know that Megatron doesn't know this. We have to be sure he doesn't find out no matter what. No one is to discuss this outside of our main base." Prime says. The meeting ends.

Late 1939

Europe has fallen. We do not act. Entire cities have been destroyed. We do not act. Nations are dying. We do not act. Humans are being slain in the millions. We. Do. Not. Act. It is bad. It is against my function. It is unbearable.

I retreat to my vehicle form more and more. I am more comfortable in it, having spent more of my active time in such form then most autobots. Biological beings seem more comfortable around a thinking speaking vehicle then a giant speaking mechanical biped. I have learned that I am the most experienced Autobot in dealing with biological creatures. In this company... I am the only Autobot with prior experience with alien biological beings. This means Prime has had me present at a number of "talks." It is wearing to try and figure out an alien species and aid my creator in understanding them. I am a warmachine, not a diplomat or a scientist. I do my best.

I am in a lab doing experiments on radio and radar waves. The Humans... Who belong to a faction calling itself the United States of America, are moving forward. Inch by inch. I... do more then I really should to help. Prime has been firm on denying them aide with weapons. A call I have argued against. Still I am a loyal warkmachine. I will follow Prime... Even if he's wrong... For now.

A scientist is scrawling out his proofs on a blackboard. He makes a mistake. I "cough." He looks over at me, his wrinkled face crinkling up. I correct him quietly. It is really all I can do right now. I await Prime's orders. I am a warmachine however, not a damn proofreader.

Now

The boat nears the shore. It is the Human Nation-state of Russia. The battleground. The Russian faction of humanity has embraced odd economic and political theories that make the elites of the American faction nervous. My own study convinces me that these theories are flawed and the system they produce is doomed. I am not sure I care for the American's economic system either. It is messy, inefficient.

This does not matter. Blitzwing is in this battlefield Russia place. The Combaticons are in this battlefield Russia place. They have murdered. They have enslaved. This is bad. My function is to stop these things and I will do. I better already at the thought.

I rev my engine in anticipation. I am a Cybertronian warmachine. A creation of Prime. I will fulfill my function. This is good.

[General Havoc]

Well they certainly seemed friendly enough, or at least the human and Overload did. Despite the welcome he knew he was liable to face here, despite everything in fact, a soft smile bubbled up to Hornet's mechanical features. Hope sprang eternal. Perhaps things here would be different after all.

"Um... thanks!" he chirped to Overload. He glanced over at Deathstrike and Ste- er... Kill- er... the human. Humans had so many names, and he was never sure which one he was supposed to use. Humans seemed to prefer some people using their first names, and some their second ones, and some both, but he never could quite figure out when to use either.

That got him thinking. He looked around surreptitiously at the various humans walking around, paying no apparent mind to the gigantic robots in their midst. Deathstrike and Stephanie Killian even seemed to be playing some kind of game. A puzzled expression came over his face.

"Um... aren't we... s'posed to be planes and tanks when humans are around?" he asked, apparently having no idea that the question sounded the least bit odd, particularly given that one of the people he was asking was herself a human.

[Charon]

Hunter had his eyes on the board game as well when Pathfinder spoke to him, but his attention hadn't been so much on Deathstrike. When Pathfinder grabbed his attention he looked up and smirked. Autobots usually had good poker faces, but they were terrible at bluffing.

"Another one? We just had a game last night." Cavalier then got in on the action as well.

"Alright, alright. I'll see what I can do."

Then the little plane came down and transformed into the smallest Autobot he'd ever seen. "Who's the pipsqueak?"

[General Havoc]

Cavalier turned to follow Hunter's look, and spotted what was indeed the smallest Autobot he'd ever seen as well. Puzzled, he ran the transponder code through his database, and came up empty. That was odd, to say the least, but then again he hadn't synchronized his database for a while.

"Never seen that one before," he said. 'Pipsqueak' was a good word for it, even if a human was affixing the name. "Guess he must be a 'budget' model..."

[SirNitram]

"Yea, he's like a foot shorter than me out of the battlesuit, and I'm a tiny bastard." Overload mused. Could it be? He'd have to ask for some information of where the little guy came from. "We're a little more relaxed in this unit. Around these humans, you can walk around and such. And in battle use whatever's best for your style. But when we're around others, we go disguised. Fewer people know we're here, the fewer Decepticons realize we can be attacked."

[Cynical Cat]

"Size should be a good match for function," said Deathstrike, "but that is all. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw are even smaller than he is and have many successful missions and wins in aerial combat to their credit."

[General Havoc]

Hornet blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked. This was in direct contradiction to what Ironhide had drummed into him before he left the United States, but then the other humans, including the one here, definitely didn't seem at all surprised to see giant (to them) robots walking around. Hornet hadn't really gotten a chance to get to know many humans yet, save for a couple of the ones who'd worked with him at Oak Ridge, back before the US government knew what he was. He'd thought, at the time, that those humans were nice, at least most of them were, but then after the government had turned him over to the Autobots, the Autobots had refused to allow him to be around humans anymore. They'd said they were afraid of what he might do to them...

He snapped back into the conversation in time to hear the Autobot called Deathstrike saying that (assuming he was interpreting it right) Hornet's size needn't be such a limitation. Hornet was no stranger to people thinking him useless (or annoying), but at least these bots seemed to be open minded about it. Optimistically as ever, Hornet started to get the feeling that he was going to like it here.

"Well um..." he said, "I'm a recon flier!" He said it in the distinct manner of a child dressed up for Halloween claiming to be a pirate or cowboy. "At least... that's what Optimus said I could be. He glanced around at the various humans moving to and fro, moving equipment and weaponry in obvious preparation for something, and turned back to Stephanie.

"Are... you a soldier?" he asked.

[Charon]

Hunter looked at the new Autobot closely for a few more seconds before he shook his head and muttered to himself. "At least this one can't just step on me."

[Cynical Cat]

"No," said Stephanie. "I'm supposed to be an expert on Transformers, but what I really am is someone who tries to fix them up when they're injured with the best parts I can get my hands on. This big guy over here," she said, pointing at Deathstrike, "is a soldier."

[LadyTevar]

"Primus... why'd they send *that* here." Pathfinder snarled, the only one of the Cybertronians that DID know something about the 'bot called Hornet. The tone of voice was one that Hornet would recall hearing from several Autobots with Ironhide's point of view.

"Just watch yourself, Hunter. We don't know what It can do."

That. It. Things that the Autobots did not call each other. Even Deathstrike and the other Decepticons were referred to as 'he/him'. Pathfinder crossed his arms and stared hard at the tiny robot, speaking contemptuously. "You can't seriously expect us to believe that Prime sent you."

[Charon]

"Right. I'm shaking in my boots because of a bot that is only 10 times more deadly than I am rather than 50 times more deadly. It reaches a point where the scale just doesn't matter anymore."

Just to prove a point he walked up to the small Autobot.

"The name's Hunter. Welcome to Coldstaph, where it's always cold, and the Germans and the Decepticons only attack on every other day."

[SirNitram]

"Recon is good. Just get ready to go really fast the other way if the Decepticons start chasing you." Overload nodded. It, that. He heard the sounds, and they troubled him. If they thought that about this little bot, what would they think of his origins, should they hear of them?

[General Havoc]

One look at Deathstrike was enough to prove that Stephanie wasn't lying. He looked like a soldier, through and through, impassive and enormous (to Hornet) and potentially deadly. Hornet wondered for a second if Deathstrike was another flier (fliers all had a certain... look).

"So, you're a... mechanic?" asked Hornet in perfect innocence and no small degree of awe. To him, mechanics were not the low-grade laborers they might have been to a human. Hornet's voice framed the word "mechanic" like a human might have framed "vascular surgeon", making it quite clear that he considered the job one of vital importance. It did not take a lot of imagination to figure out why he might think that.

A second human suddenly walked up, this one painted like a normal human soldier, similar to the ones Hornet had met at Oak Ridge. He said that his name was Hunter, and seemed friendly enough. Hornet grinned. "Hi there," he said. "I'm Hornet!" As though that answered every possible question, he peered inquisitively at the human. "Are... you a mechanic too?" he asked. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to him!

"You can't seriously expect us to believe that Prime sent you."

Hornet turned his head sharply and spotted an Autobot whom he remembered vaguely from somewhere else. That in and of itself was a bad sign. So was the fact that the larger bot was staring at him with a look that could have scared away birds, his arms folded across his chest. The look he was shooting Hornet was so contemptuous that Hornet seemed to wilt under its gaze, and averted his eyes to the ground.

"P-Prime said I... I could come here... and... and help out." It sounded like a weak excuse even to Hornet's auditory sensors. He opened a small cargo pouch on his side and took out a small data rod, glancing furtively around before extending it gingerly to Overload, whom Deathstrike had said was in charge. He looked as skittish as a deer, avoiding Pathfinder's optics, all of his previous buoyant optimism burnt out of him like a deflated balloon.

*-----------------------------------------------------------*

Cavalier did not like the look of this. He'd never seen Pathfinder take such a dislike to someone since Deathstrike showed up, and never before that. Deathstrike was understandable of course, but the only thing that Cavalier could tell about this one (other than the abnormal size) was that he was a flier, and he'd never pegged Pathfinder for holding inter-service grudges.

"Who is he?" he asked, directing his question, not at the flier himself, but at Pathfinder, who appeared to know something about this little bot that Cavalier himself did not.

[LadyTevar]

"We Don't Know." Pathfinder said to Cavalier, but the words carried clearly. "Humans found it as a protoform, Supposedly..." there was a heavy weight on the last word. "They hid it for a while before turning it over to us. According to it, and from all the scans Wheeljack and the others did, its only memories are that its name is Hornet, and it claims to be an Autobot. Problem is, no one's ever heard of any Autobot -- of any size -- called Hornet."

It It It Not even giving the tiny robot a basic identity. "So, Deathstrike, you know anything about this pipsqueak? One of Soundwave's pets, maybe?"

[Charon]

Hunter grinned at Hornet's question. "Mechanic? Uhhh... Kind of. I tend towards the dismantling of machinery rather than fixing it though."

When the smaller bot wilted under Pathfinder's gaze Hunter raised an eyebrow. Well that was odd, he'd never seen an Autobot do that just from being glared at before. As to the rest of Pathfinder's tirade, he paid little attention to it. The Autobot had been railing against Deathstrike as well and so far nothing had come of it. Pathfinder seemed to always be questioning his superior's orders. It was a wonder the Autobots hadn't lost this war already.

[General Havoc]

"I'll be Primusdamned," said Cavalier, narrowing his gaze, "I did hear about something like that a while back. They thought it was a reverse-engineered copy of us or something that the humans built, but that the tech was too advanced."

Hornet, for his part, did not appear to dispute any of these facts. Indeed he seemed to have deflated somehow, his head hanging low and staring at the ground. His wings were lowered to his sides, and he seemed afraid to even look at anyone. Those nearby could see that there was some kind of... liquid... that seemed to be welling up in the little bot's optics. A light blue liquid that smelled vaguely of soap.

Cavalier eyed the little robot over a few times, his fingers drumming against the large cannon barrel mounted on his right arm. He cocked an optic at Pathfinder as the smaller tank asked Deathstrike a question.

"You think it's a 'con?" he asked.

"'m not a Decepticon!" blurted Hornet out of all sudden.

"Oh, well, thanks," replied Cavalier deadpan. "That just clears everything right up then, doesn't it?" He rolled his optics and looked back at Pathfinder. "Kinda scrawny for one of Soundwave's critters, isn't it?" Whether he had intended the same things as Pathfinder by use of 'it' or was just copying Pathfinder's pronoun was unclear. "Maybe some kind of new design of Trauma's?"