Dressing room. The energon room. Finding one's roots

[random_xtras]

Pi: *pokes drunk Minicon* o.0

Iceberg: I ain't out of it yet, kid. *eyeing him as he reaches for a new cube*

Pi: *chuckles* You're orange.

Iceberg: Yeah, still orange. That's how you know I'm not dead drunk. *takes a slug*

Pi: *looks around the dressing room, then back to the smaller bot* I don't get it.

Iceberg: The repaint gremlins haven't paid a visit yet.

Pi: Ohhhhhh. *sudden dirty rotten grin that Iceberg just might find to be like looking in a larger mirror*

Iceberg: *blinks at him, disconcerted* I know you, kid?

Pi: Noooo, I don't think so. Unless we met in the Linkage. But I don't remember that now. *yes, he looks just like a sixteen foot bayformer Bulk*

Iceberg: *sudden suspicion that doesn't show as he sits back and sips, leveling a measuring gaze on the stranger* And just what do you know about the Linkage?

Pi: *grins again* Last night I nearly got booted back to it.

Iceberg: *optics flare* How come?

Pi: I ate somebody's data chips instead of just downloading off them. And then I laughed at her when she found out what I did.

Iceberg: Uh-huh. Guess that might do it. *keeping noncommittal while he sizes the guy up* She give you an audio-ful instead?

Pi: Yup. *laughs*

Iceberg: What'd you go eating 'em for, anyhow? Didn't she tell you what they were for?

Pi: Oh yeah. I just wanted to see if she'd get mad.

Iceberg: Experimenting? *optic ridges raised*

Pi: Sure. I have to see what the world's like. I kind of thought I knew she had a temper already. That just proved it.

Iceberg: *grunts and takes a sip* She had enough patience not to slag you, though.

Pi: *shrug* She says she put too much work and energy into me to dump me now. *picks up a cube of green and tastes it* Thrrrrpt. The stuff I drained out of my radiator tastes better than this.

Iceberg: *rough chuckle* Sometimes that's the point. *looks him over* What's your alt-mode, kid?

Pi: *another shrug and another sip* Haven't found anything I like yet.

Iceberg: Have you even figured out what you like?

Pi: I liked eating those data chips. Otherwise? Not really.

Iceberg: *nods thoughtfully and drains some more* You'll figure it out soon enough.

Pi: *sticks out his tongue and pushes away the cube of green* I know I don't like this [explicative in Minicon].

Iceberg: *shrugs* It's an acquired taste. Makes a change from all that bland low-grade sludge.

Pi: *tasting blue now* This is better. *thoughtful expression, and then pulls out a cinnaSeeker and dunks the cookie in the energy before having a bite* Hey... this is good.

Iceberg: Told you. *still thinking, rubbing his chin* Do you have a function?

Pi: *munching* Learning mostly now. But I think I'm a soldier. *looks around as though he expects something or someone to be there, then turns back to his cookie and drink*

Iceberg: *ducks his head to drink, giving Pi raised optic ridges* A soldier, huh?

Pi: Yeah. A friend's been training me to fight since I got my arms and legs. *holds out one hand, and Iceberg will be able to feel a slight magnetic pull coming from it*

Iceberg: *tilts his head* Huh. This friend have a name?

Pi: *canny and slightly wary look* Yeah. He's Ravage. He guards my creator's place.

Iceberg: *shows no sign of recognition, although his optics do flicker for another reason* She has a place of her own?

Pi: *headtilt* I hadn't said my creator was a femme.

Iceberg: *shrugs and reminds him* Your creator or your instructor. Said she'd invested too much in you to slag you.

Pi: Yeah. *nodding and studying him with those bright green optics, hiding his quizzical feelings as he takes in the colour of the smaller mech's body and optics, and the shape of his face* What's your name, anyway?

Iceberg: *wry smile* You first.

Pi: *figures nobody would know it yet anyway, but raises one brow plate* You going to pick which one to give after you hear what I say?

Iceberg: No, I've only got one to give. I just like screwing with people.

Pi: *pauses to look up the term, and then snerks as he finds it's what you call what he was doing with the datachips* Oh, is that what you call it. *shrugs and beeps the symbol for a pi to pi star reaction*

Iceberg: *musing whistle* I'm Iceberg. Adventure Team.

Pi: *drinks a bit and then dunks his cookie again* Do you know a femme named Nova?

Iceberg: Yeah. I know her. *frowning slightly* Do you?

Pi: No. But I've heard about her. *eats the last of his cookie, then picks up his cube and drains it before getting to his feet* And about you.

Iceberg: I figured I might've come up. *can't help being curious, slaggit* So. Your creator warning you not to hang out with bad influences?

Pi: *brow quirk* Then I'd have to stop hanging out with them. No. They just told me about you and your team.

Iceberg: *snorts in amusement* Wish I could say the same.

Pi: *shifts slightly on his feet, optics wary and calculating. He's new, but he doesn't take the world for granted* No, she said she hadn't heard from you in a long time.

Iceberg: *shrug* I've been away from the Nexus a few months, if you want to call that long. Jungle Planet ain't good for communications.

Pi: *shrugs himself* She was just saying I probably wouldn't have to worry about running into you.

Iceberg: Wouldn't have figured I was much to worry about. *takes a drink*

Pi: *shrugs again* She said Nova was the possible danger. *and that she wasn't really on Iceberg's list of favorite people* Just that you were one of the Minicons that might show up in the Nexus. She didn't say you looked like her.

Iceberg: It's a quirk of Nexus design standards, far as I can work out. *considers* She might've been right about Nova, though. Not that the kid's spark isn't in the right place, but she's a mean armament on her.

Pi: And a mean chip off her shoulder, it sounds like. *tilts his head and looks at Iceberg more closely, using sensors inherited from his bayformer tech*

Iceberg: *noncommittal grunt* There's a lot of us who do. That's another thing you'll learn.

Pi: *Frowns a bit* She's not a Minicon.

Iceberg: *headshake* Not that 'us'. Transformers in general. People who've lived through any part of the war. *though Minicons, it's true, may have more than their share of chips*

Pi: You mean the war against Megatron?

Iceberg: *peers at him grimly* The civil war, kid. There was a lot more to it than just Megatron, whatever universe you hail from.

Pi: The one that I've heard of is just Megatron kissing the Fallen's aft and trying to wreck things the other guys don't want wrecked. Oh wait... there's the one with the squishy bots, too.

Iceberg: *gives him a stare, then shakes his head* Never heard of the Fallen. No, the Megatron of my universe was a warlord in his own right. He never bowed to anyone, give him that. Had an army of thousands- millions - loyal to him, set half of Cybertron against the other, conquered planets right, left and centre. Chaos and ruin, Cybertronian against Cybertronian... and we Minicons smack in the middle of it. *optics darken a shade or two*

Pi: Hmm. Sounds like actually learning what my creator has for me might be more interesting than slagging around with a PINpoint I'm not supposed to have.

Iceberg: *rough chuckle* It does make for some interesting stories.

Hormah: *comes stomping in with ire in her optics, then stops short like she hit a wall when she sees who her errant creation's talking to* Slaggin' @#$#@$.

Iceberg: *looks up at the flash of orange and pauses, then nods to Hormah amicably*

Hormah: *shifts on her feet slightly, wearing uncertain expression that happens whenever she's around Iceberg* Hey. 'Sup?

Pi: *looking back and forth in silence, just watching*

Iceberg: *watches her with an innocuously level gaze - innocuous if you don't know how hard it is to read what the orange Minicon's thinking behind there* Just dropped into the Nexus for a visit. Was talking to Pi here.

Hormah: *glances around* T's's after bein' t' dressin' room, b'y.

Iceberg: It's a round trip. *shrug* Drink?

Hormah: *shrugs slightly herself* Should git t' brat back t' where 'e belongs. Where's t' ot'ers to?

Iceberg: Getting ready for a trip. *voice still even* We're leaving Jungle Planet.

Hormah: *frowns* Fer how long? Nova goin' too?

Iceberg: Haven't talked to Nova yet. And for as long as it takes before we get work there again. We're cutting the job short. *doesn't sound terribly happy about that*

Hormah: *frowns more deeply* What happened, b'y?

Iceberg: Been requested elsewhere. *contemplates the last bit of his drink and then downs it*

Hormah: Ye don't sound too happy 'bout t'at.

Iceberg: I don't like bailing on a job. 'Specially not one we took on for a friend.

Hormah: *frowns, hesitates, frowns more, and then moves close enough to touch him gently on the shoulder in understanding sympathy*

Pi: *still watching as he eats another cookie*

Iceberg: *looks a little surprised, but then it disappears and he just pats her hand in an appreciative gesture* 'Course, we're not the only ones... making changes. *nods at Pi*

Hormah: *looks soberly at her son* Pink sez she tol' ye 'bout 'im.

Pi: *brows quirk and munches*

Iceberg: What she knew, yeah. *looking at her closely* I told her I wouldn't have figured you to get hit by an LOL like that.

Hormah: *quietly* Pi, go home.

Pi: *frowns and looks at her quizzically*

Hormah: G'wan.

Pi: *scowl* See you, Iceberg. *vanishes with a PIN flash*

Iceberg: *sits up straighter, and manages to nod and whistle a farewell to the kid as he disappears. Then he turns those yellow optics back to Hormah, waiting.*

Hormah: *quietly, as she squares her shoulders* He warn't no LOL.

Iceberg: *optics flash* He wasn't?

Hormah: *shakes her head silently, her expression determined and a little rebellious*

Iceberg: Then where'd he come from?

Hormah: A wish. 'N a bond.

Iceberg: You lost me.

Hormah: T'ere's folk as can grant wishes in t' Nexus. I used one t' cause Pi. 'N... ye remembers Rap?

Iceberg: *slow nod* Your Autobot... friend. *the emphasis on that word suggests he knows it's more than that but lacks a word to hand for it*

Hormah: *quietly* My bondmate.

Iceberg: *optics brighten* I didn't realise you'd got that far.

Hormah: Rap got t' come back fer a lil' bit jes' afore Pi got made. We done fixed t'ings t'en. *settles on a chair and turns a cube of energon on the table, her optics distant but alert*

Iceberg: *optics dim* And the kid?

Hormah: Rap's as much 's mine.

Iceberg: That the wish part?

Hormah: *nods* Half 'o it. Had t' use one t' make t' bond t' start wit'. *gives him a slightly stern look, still braced for disapprobation*

Iceberg: Right. *looks up at her properly* Why do it?

Hormah: 'Cause I wanted t'.

Iceberg: And... why? *sounds earnest, though he's frowning. He is trying to work this out*

Hormah: Does it matter?

Iceberg: *blinks at her* Uh... yeah. Of course it does. If I decided to do something that risky, you bet I'd get some interrogation about it. Even from Ransack.

Hormah: *shakes her head and looks down at the cube in her hands* It's done, b'y. 'N I's alright.

Iceberg: *sighs, the impassiveness dropping a bit and leaving him looking weary, and maybe a little worried* I just want to try and understand this, Hormah.

Hormah: *hand goes toward him again in a comforting gesture, even as she speaks quietly* Last time ye were sayin' t'at ye gimme hell 'bout somet'in' t'at meant a lot t' me. 'N I's afeared ye ain't gonna understand t'is net'er, 'n yer gonna fuss 'bout somet'in' t'at's already done.

Iceberg: *looks away slightly* What's done has a tendency to repeat itself. That's what bothers me.

Hormah: *gentle tease* Is bein' 'grandpa', as Pink puts it, t'at bad? *serious then as she shakes her head and switches to Minicon* [And there wasn't anything really risky about it till that slaggin' Rattrap nearly died and I had to go to the Linkage to make sure Pi was together enough to exist on his own. But don't worry, old man. I'm crazy. But I'm not stupid.]

Iceberg: *frown* I ain't always sure of that. But I guess I've probably said the same thing to Dune Runner more times than I've recharged.

Hormah: *amused deedling as she takes her hand back* So ye sayin' I gits it from yer side 'o t' family?

Iceberg: *snorts, amused despite himself* Not that that's an excuse. 'Runner'll tell you so himself.

Hormah: *grins, but then sobers and scowls at him thoughtfully* Ye heard 'bout me place?

Iceberg: Only that you have one, and a sentry-bot.

Hormah: *fleeting grin at mention of Ravage before turning serious again* *quietly* T'is a sanctuary.

Iceberg: Ah. *drops his gaze to study the pile of remaining cubes just out of easy reach*

Hormah: *gives him hers* But yer welcome t'ere, b'y. T'boss's good fer keepin' 'is mout' shut. Some 'o me wards, not so much. But t'ey's mostly after yellin' at each ot'er 'n fightin' in me bedroom when I's tryin' t' sleep.

Iceberg: *accepts it after a second's hesitation* Thanks. *looks up at her* Think I'd better take care of things in my home first, for a while.

Hormah: Jes' sayin', b'y. 'N I's a medic now, too. *head tilts slightly as she searches his face*

Iceberg: *raises his optic ridges* It's a good skill. Who's training you?

Hormah: T' Ratchet from Rap's reality was doin' it till t' reality done shut off. Now I's gettin' pointers from t' dead one.

Iceberg: Ah. *scratches head* Ratchets are Autobots mostly, right?

Hormah: Aye. T' dead guy's not no more, t'ough. Ain't no factions in t' Allspark.

Iceberg: *chuckles* If that's what they say. It's a good function any road, like I said.

Hormah: *grins, her optics twinkling now* Comes in some handy, what wit' bein' 'round Blackout, 'n wit' t' mechs as come t' my place.

Iceberg: *hrns and nods* Yeah. Considering what I had to learn just to help keep the other two on their feet... and they ain't Decepticons.

Hormah: Ye ever hear 'o Borg? 'R Tyranids?

Iceberg: Nope. Should I've done?

Hormah: *databursts him information on both*

Iceberg: *digests it for a few minutes* You've been scrapping with their kind?

Hormah: There's after bein' a reality where they hybridized. 'N took over.

Iceberg: Oo Uh...huh. Nexus has some strange things...

Hormah: T'ey ain't in t' Nexus, thank Primus. *thinks, and then pulls something out of a storage compartment and offers it to him. It's a small knife, made from a tyraborg claw*

Iceberg: *pauses and takes it carefully* Is that a claw? *bemused*

Hormah: T'were. #@$@#$@ kin cut t'rough Cybertronian armor.

Iceberg: *shifts it in his hand, getting a feel for it* Doesn't make a half-bad blade, either.

Hormah: *grin widens a bit. She's pleased that this person she doesn't really know but wants to like seems to like the weapon she made* Handle's diamond. I carved it meself t' give a good grip.

Iceberg: *looks up at her with that hard-to-read measuring gaze* Lot of care for a weapon that doesn't fit your hand.

Hormah: Not much point in doin' a t'ing half-afted.

Iceberg: *chuckles* I can't argue with that.

Hormah: Try t'rowin' 'er.

Iceberg: *blinks at her, but looks around for a handy target, takes aim and throws it at a crate across the room. Inexpertly. Throwing is not what he normally does with knives.*

Hormah: No no no. *gets up and goes and gets it, then offers it back and pulls a larger knife out* See, ye holds 'er like t'is.

Iceberg: *frowns mildly and looks closely, mimicking the grip as he takes the knife back* All right how's about this?

Hormah: Bit looser 'n a bit furt'er back.

Iceberg: *clicks to himself as he shifts his hand* And that? *is... more or less right*

Hormah: *hunkers and nods* Right. Now t'row 'er straight. She ain't no flipper, t'issun.

Iceberg: *takes aim again with a properly calculating optic, and throws it... perhaps surprisingly deftly*

Hormah: *whistles and claps him gently on the back in approval* Try 'er agin, b'y.

Iceberg: *half-chuckle and strolls over to retrieve it* Never was much of a missile bot. Excepting maybe where Dune Runner's concerned.

Hormah: Knowin' what t' do wit' a knife's a good t'ing t' know. Specially if no one else do know ye has it. *half grin*

Iceberg: *sly grin of his own* Now you're talking truth.

Hormah: *deedles a laugh, then tilts her head* Well, ye gonna do it agin?

Iceberg: *blows static at her, then backs up and aims at a new spot* *whooshunk!*

Hormah: Not too shabby fer a n00b. Wonder if ye'll be t'at good when yer sober.

Iceberg: *wry grin at her* Probably wouldn't be trying it if I was sober. *goes over to retrieve it*

Hormah: *amused scolding headshake* Don't write somet'in' off jes' 'cause ye ain't built fer it.

Iceberg: *gently, even a little soberly, as he looks over his shoulder* Wasn't quite what I meant. *looks back and pulls it out, checking the blade*

Hormah: *pauses slightly as she settles to one knee, and muses that it is just a little harder to converse with people that you can't pick up feelings from* Whoops.

Iceberg: *isn't known for being easy to read, even to himself. He brings the knife back over, examining it* Hardly shows where it hit. It's durable stuff.

Hormah: She self repairs. *also looks at knife*

Iceberg: *looks up in surprise* Self-repairs? Does it need fueling?

Hormah: Nah, bein' 'round us's plenty 'nough t' keep 'er charged.

Iceberg: *looks back down and studies the knife, turning it over in his hands* Handy as an automatic filter, that.

Hormah: *deedles her amusement* Shows how leaky we is, eh?

Iceberg: *snickers* Don't tell Sanders, or he'll want to use it for a litmus test.

Hormah: *snerk* Ye figure he'n Ransack'd fancy t'ere own bit 'o borg?

Iceberg: *scratches chin* Welll... Ransack's got his towhook already and Dune Runner doesn't like fighting any closer than the range of his fragging blowtorch... but it never hurts to have a backup plan.

Hormah: Like I was after sayin', b'y. *grins again* I's even got somet'in' goldie t'ere could use.

Iceberg: *curious and lets it show* Oh yeah? Whatcha got?

Hormah: *pops out and pops back, one hand holding the massive tyranid scythe that Blackout played with for awhile and which has been mounted on a heavy metal telescopic pole. She sets that down, and then takes a box out of her storage compartment that holds other bits of tyraborg* Ain't got no more knives like yers, 'n t'is here scythe's jes' plain 'nid 'n not tyraborg. But she's right handy fer all t'at. Here's somet'in' Minicon size. *pulls out a blade the size of a large machete, complete with heavy cord-bound handle*

Iceberg: *looking over the assortment of 'souvenirs' with interest, until his gaze fixes on the machete. And he smirks.* Oh yeah, that'd fit him. Gotta warn you he'd probably use it for hacking vegetation more than people though.

Hormah: No foul. *grinning still as she sorts through the bits* T' ot'er bloke's inta hooks, ye says?

Iceberg: Dunno about into. He just uses the one that's attached. Think he likes throwing it around.

Hormah: *chuckles, and then lifts up a bit of armor about the size and general shape of a frisbee*

Iceberg: *raises his optic ridges* That looks like it's for playing with.

Hormah: *flip of the wrist spins it away... right through that crate*

Iceberg: <._<. Like I said. Fun and games.

Hormah: *goes and gets it* T'ink she'd do fer ol' Ransack?

Iceberg: ...Yeah, I reckon he'd put it to good use.

Hormah: *deedlechuckle and offers it*

Iceberg: *takes it with his free hand and tucks it under his arm, gently* How long were you keeping these?

Hormah: *head tilt* What d'ye mean?

Iceberg: *that curious headtilt and appraising air* You were just carrying around Minicon-sized weaponry?

Hormah: Blackout's after knowin' ot'er Minicons. 'N t'is fits ot'er folk too, b'y. Tis meant t' be inventory betime.

Iceberg: *faint amusement* 'Course. Of course, you'd get more organic customers than Minicons, too.

Hormah: *nods* T'ere's a good market fer non-metallic stuff. T'ough t' metal do sell some good too. *drops her optics to the knife that she now understands she made for him, then reaches for the big scythe. 'N t'is ain't Minicon size!

Iceberg: *cocks his head at the thing and nods* Yeah, I can guess who that might fit.

Hormah: Like I sez, I figures Nova t'ere could use it.

Iceberg: *optic-flicker* Nova?

Hormah: Aye. Goldie.

Iceberg: You did say... *eyes the scythe again* I kinda fear what'll happen if we put that in her hands, though.

Hormah: *deadpan* Some bots might have a spittin' chance 'o bein' outta range.

Iceberg: Good point.

Hormah: *nod nod. Deedle*

Iceberg: Do you want to give it to her?

Hormah: *doubtful snort* I knows what she t'inks 'o me.

Iceberg: *sigh* I'd want to tell her who it's from, at least.

Hormah: Don't figure t'at could hurt. I knows what she t'inks 'o ye, too.

Iceberg: Never sure myself. But if I can get her to give you a fair shot, it's good enough.

Hormah: *quietly, in Minicon* [She loves and looks up to all three of you, and I think she'd die to protect you.]

Iceberg: *looks honestly taken aback* [You think-? *awkward helmet rub* Yeah, well, she's an affectionate kid once you get to know her...] *not used to that kind of loyalty from anyone outside his brothers*

Hormah: *her deedlebeeping lowers still further* [I know it. Part of being a servant is being able to feel what other sparks feel.]

Iceberg: *hesitates, then quietly* [Well, there's a lot more to how a person is than what they're feeling. Don't get too caught up relying on that.] *there might be just the slightest rough edge to his voice*

Hormah: [I know. And I don't depend on it. But it really helps when there's a kid pointing a gun at your head and snarling about Decepticon scum.]

Iceberg: *wince* [Yeah, I guess it would.]

Hormah: *looks at him a little wistfully* [Am I too Bulk for a hug? I have to get back before Pi drives Ravage glitchy.]

Iceberg: *blink - when you put it like that...* [Too Bulk? Slag, kid... of course not.] *holds out his one free hand* [Come here.]

Hormah: *leans right down, one arm going out tentatively to hug back without lifting him*

Iceberg: *moves forward to hug her properly, or as well as the size difference allows*

Hormah: *soft deedlebeeping as she gives him a gentle squish and thinks that maybe he's not quite such a bad guy after all. Is ready to let go as soon as he does so he doesn't feel trapped*

Iceberg: *really has had a few cubes and is perhaps unusually slow to let go, although what's going on in his processor before he finally does is invisible from outside* *sigh* [Look, you watch out for Pi. Just remember to watch out for yourself, too.]

Hormah: *sits up and looks down at him with a slight smile* [We'll be alright, old man. You do the same for yourself.]

Iceberg: [Yeah... I'm planning on it.] <._<. *if by watch out for, of course, you mean 'buy rounds for* [Maybe I'll see you around here before Ransack finds another clever way to land us in the slag.]

Hormah: *deedles with amusement as she gets to her feet* [I meant that invitation. Just don't get my cat too drunk if you come.] *looks at him for a moment, then* [Greater Creator bless you and keep you. And thanks.] *PINs out*

Iceberg: *is left to blink at himself, the weapons and what's left of his drink, and then to find some more energon to mull the whole conversation over with*

((Co-written with no_obstacle))