Title: Combaticons on the Lost Light
Chapter: 3/?
Continuity: IDW G1 (MTMTE)
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty

This Chapter
Content/Warnings gen, comedy
Characters: Rung, Brawl, Swerve, Ten
Rating: PG
Summary: Rung gets to know Brawl, and Brawl gets to know Swerve.

Note: Mentions of The Transformers (ongoing 2009 – 2011) "Police Story", MTMTE "Remain in Light" and issue #29.

When Rung rounded the corner, his patient was already waiting for him.

The tank paced with loud steps, and rubbed the treads of his upper arm nervously.

"Brawl, I take it?" Rung said, offering a nod as he walked closer.

The tank whirled around. "Uh, yeah."

"You're early for your appointment." Rung smiled. "Could you make room, I'd like to open the door."

"Yeah, sure, sorry." Brawl stepped away from the door, and shrugged. "Ons said I need to be on time. Usually I'm late, you know. He gets always fragged off about that."

"I appreciate that you're early then, and will remember your words." Rung was still smiling. The door slid aside and he sent a ping to the lights. "Take a seat or lie down. Choose what you're most comfortable with."

The tank uttered an acknowledging grunt, and carefully stepped into the room, as though he expected to be attacked.

"So," Brawl said, standing between the berth and the patient's chair. "You're Rung then."

Rung nodded, positively surprised on not to having to correct his name.

"But you're so tiny." Brawl still stood, appearing not to know what to do while his plating shifted minutely.

Rung took out a datapad as he sat down. "I don't think I understand the connection between my occupation and my body size."

Brawl shrugged, the barrel on his back shifting slightly. "I dunno," he muttered, and eventually settled to sit on the berth, looking at Rung with his orange visor. "If you have that job, shouldn't you be, like, twice the size of everyone else? I mean you're poking people's heads."

At that, Rung had to laugh softly. "Well, I'm not doing it literally."

Brawl made an undefined gesture with his hand and gave a one sided shrug. "Yeah, 'course," he muttered, and seemed to be trying to figure out his next words. "But poking people's issues isn't much different, is it? At least you'd have to be stronger than them?"

Rung tensed at the reminder of the incident with Fort Max and Whirl. Trying to cover his reaction, he shifted on the chair and crossed his legs. He also remembered Onslaught's words about the tank: not very bright, but he had his moments. The psychiatrist wondered if this was one of them.

"Why do you think so?" he asked, keeping his voice even but curious. He didn't admit that the other's words had made him uncomfortable. He didn't want another incident, especially not with a Decepticon tank.

Another shrug with a shifting barrel. "Just a thought. I mean, for example, if you talk to Blast Off and ask the wrong stuff, he snaps. Like, literally, he turns you into a puddle of metal goo if you overdo it."

Rung tilted his head. "Literally? You mean figuratively, I take it."

"Eh, no, no. Literally, as in he does it. For real." Brawl scratched his threads again. "Sometimes I wonder how Vortex is still alive."

Rung gave a minute nod, and made a few notes on his datapad. It was interesting what the tank gave away with his last statement.

The team's shuttle apparently was a very antisocial personality. Rung was curious about his relationship with Brawl, who appeared rather easy-going even if currently nervous.

"I can't imagine your shuttle comrade is that bad. You are a team after all. He wouldn't hurt one of you, would he?" Rung smiled openly at the tank, encouraging him to talk.

"Uh, not sure about that." Another scratch of the threads. "It's Blast Off, you know. He's like the personification of grumpiness. Well, most of the time. He vents people into space if they don't listen to him."

Rung listened closely. The tank sounded almost disappointed, maybe even sad about that fact.

"Did he vent you into space?"

Brawl shook his head. "Frag no. I know better than to bother him when he's in that kind of mood. But he vented out another guy once. Tick something. Can't remember the name."

"I see. Well," Rung shifted on his chair into an opener position to radiate trust and understanding. "It must be hard for Cybertronians who transport other Cybertronians, and have people resided inside of them. Especially if it's in space over a longer duration. He probably had his reasons to overreact."

Brawl just looked for a moment. "Uh, we weren't inside Blast Off. It was a normal Decepticon cruiser. And it's not really overreacting, you know."

"Do you want to tell me about the incident?" Rung had the feeling Brawl wanted to, for whatever reason. It was his job to find out.

"There's not much to tell." Once more, the tank's shoulders twitched in a shrug before he rubbed his treads. "The guy was one of Banzaitron's. We never got really along, his crew and us, you know." Brawl shuffled on the berth and started swinging his legs. "He touched Blast Off, the other mech, not Banzaitron, and touching the shuttle is an off-thing. Like, you don't do that, okay. I mean not just because he says he doesn't like it, but-" Brawl stopped. His battle mask moved, but he didn't finish the sentence. Instead he vented. "Anyway. The guy fragged off Blast Off, and Blast Off threw him through an air lock during a quantum jump. And that's it."

Rung watched, observed the other, took in the tone and yet another shrug, his plating shifting tight around his endoskeleton.

"Do you feel guilty?" Rung wanted to know, because everything about Brawl looked like it.

"No, not really. Why should I? I didn't vent him out?" The optics behind the visor brightened. "I just… I dunno. Blast Off isn't bad, you know. I get why he does and says those things."

Rung tilted his head. That wasn't the reason he'd had in mind, but the answer was still very interesting. "When did the incident happen?"

"Uh, dunno. Two million years ago or something."

Rung made some notes, and looked back at Brawl again, still smiling slightly. "Much time has passed. Blast Off could have changed during that time. It seems he never vented one of you into space?"

At that, Brawl uttered a dry snort. "Blast Off doesn't change. He hates change."

"But everyone changes over time."

"Not the shuttle." Brawl uttered that snorting noise again. "That's a thing I learnt. I've learnt four things since I started flying around the universe with the team…" the tank trailed off, looking at the spaceship collection, then back at Rung.

"And those are?" Rung encouraged carefully, because he wanted to know.

"Uh, I'm not sure I can tell you." Brawl stared at Rung.

"You can tell me. Since I talk to all of you, I'd probably find it out by myself sooner or later." Rung leant back, and smiled a little more. "If you told me, you would actually be helping me."

The tank took another moment, the visor dimming and brightening alternatively. Then, before he spoke, he laughed again, a bellowed sound and much too loud for the room. "Guess you have a point. And they're kinda funny, too." Shifting on the berth to get comfortable, Brawl leant his elbows on his knees as he leant down. His voice was less loud when he started speaking, as if he was telling secrets.

"First thing I learnt: never ask Swindle about Monacus. Like, seriously, never. He'll show you all the guns he has in his compartments and you'll be at the receiving end of their barrels. You'd be surprised how many guns fit into his small frame." Brawl giggled gleefully, and even Rung had to grin a little. He knew the planet the tank spoke of.

"Next thing is about Ons, or more like his plans. They never go wrong, like ever. If they go wrong, and he improvises, it's all part of the plan and he planned the plan to go wrong. You really don't want to tell him he didn't plan well enough."

Rung made some notes, and would remember that the next time he had Onslaught in his office.

"Third thing is Vortex: his glue gun is energy field locked. Do not attempt to use it."

Rung pretended to rub his nose to hide the slight laugh at that image. He didn't exactly know what a glue gun did, but the name and the consequences of misuse gave him an image.

"And the last thing you learnt is about Blast Off I take it?" Rung said with an amused tone he couldn't hinder from entering his voice.

Brawl nodded. "Yup. I learnt that there are two constants in the universe: the speed of light, and Blast Off."

Rung looked and understood. He still didn't think no one ever changed, but he didn't tell the tank. But if it was true, then the Combaticon shuttle would be an interesting subject to work with.

"Everything you mentioned says much about your team mates. What is special about you?"

"Special about me?" Brawl seemed surprised. "Nothing, really."

Rung gave the other another moment, and just wanted to ask something else when Brawl continued with a laugh. "I just like explosions."

The Lost Light was a maze of hallways and elevators. It was nothing like the ship the Combaticons had occupied before. That had only had three floors and the engine deck.

But the Combaticons' ship hadn't needed to have space for two hundred and something people.

And it also hadn't had a bar where you could get an infinite amount of high grade. Or at least more high grade than Brawl had ever been able to distil on their own ship.

If only it was easier to find this bar he'd heard of.

Brawl was about to lose his patience, but he also didn't dare look for someone to ask. He knew he was on an Autobot ship, and he certainly wasn't an Autobot. It didn't matter that they'd scratched off their Decepticon insignias. After all those aeons of war, he doubted people would like to show him the way to their bar.

It was a little disappointing because Brawl would love to get back to a normal life with normal people without having to fight - even though he didn't mind a good brawl now and then.

Maybe if he bought a round in that bar, people would be more open towards them. Brawl didn't count on Onslaught to care about those things, and even less on Vortex. He knew the 'copter too well.

With a sigh, Brawl rounded another corner and looked up his cash. He still had almost all of the money Swindle had given him from making profit from those Megatron-guns for humans.

Counting his Shanix, Brawl almost missed the sign saying 'Swerve's' that pointed into the direction of the bar.

Finally.

Brawl grinned behind his mask as he followed the directions, wondering why it was so quiet and the corridors so empty. He'd thought a bar in a ship with that many people would be louder. Maybe no one would be there because the high grade was bad, Brawl thought, and his steps slowed for a moment.

He shrugged to himself. Bad high grade was still better than none.

Once he arrived in front of the open door, he stared at the guard. The mech had loads of dents in his armour, and arrows stuck out everywhere.

"Ten," he said.

Brawl tilted his head, and decided he was an it when a quick scan revealed it was insentient. The guard drone didn't react to him other than repeating the number again, and so Brawl peeked inside.

Carefully, he looked around, and found that it was unnecessary to be careful.

The bar was indeed empty.

Brawl resisted a sigh. So much for his plan to buy people high grade to make them less hostile.

He squeezed part the drone, and stepped into the room. Drinking alone wasn't fun, but still more fun than not drinking at all. Maybe Vortex would join him if it stayed empty like this.

"Is anyone here?" Brawl asked, walking to the counter, but even there was no one to be seen. He frowned, and slowly got the feeling that Trailbreaker – Trailcutter – had been lying to him about a bar.

There were high grade canisters in different colours, and Brawl was tempted to get himself a cube. He was just about to do that when a small Autobot showed up. Red and white and with a gun… or something.

"What do you want in here?" the mech said, voice high pitched and seemingly on the verge of panic. Brawl raised his hands in defence.

"Nothing," he said, feeling naked when he didn't have a weapon himself. He could convert to alt-mode, but that wasn't wise. "I mean, I don't want nothing. I kinda want a drink," Brawl continued, eyeing the colourful weapon that was smaller than a usual blaster but still too big for the other's hands.

"Ha, right! And if I turn around, you're gonna kill me!"

Brawl shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're a Decepticon. As in deception." The mech waved the blaster around that Brawl had the urge to step back even further. At this rate, he'd shoot the ceiling at best, and the tank wasn't fond of getting rubble on his head.

"But I'm not a Decepticon any more. See." Brawl pointed at the scratched part of his armour where once his insignia had been. "And if I kill you, who would give me a drink?"

"I'm not giving drinks away for free."

"I can pay," Brawl offered, and was beginning to feel a little stupid. He let his hands sink and sighed loudly. "Look, I know we're gonna have a rough time on here. I mean me and my team, and I just wanna get drunk and not kill people."

The minibot let the blaster sink slightly, and tipped his head to a side.

"I'm actually happy the war is over, okay," Brawl continued and made an opening gesture with his arms. "Like, some of my really good old friends are Autobots, okay? It's nice to be able to talk to them again without being held at gunpoint, you know. Can I get a drink now?"

"Ha, right. We aren't friends, and you're a Combaticon."

The other raised the weapon again, and now Brawl could see the writing on it, 'My First Blaster'. It confused the tank, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Yeah, I'm a Combaticon." It wasn't like that was a good thing. Sometimes it'd felt like it was an insult when other Decepticons had used the team name.

"Why should I believe you have friends here?"

Brawl shrugged. "You can ask Trailbreaker. I mean, Trailcutter. He told me about the bar. And Skids. I saw Skids is on the ship, too. You know Skids?" Grinning behind the mask at the thought of aforementioned mechs, Brawl's tension eased off a little. It'd be cool to drink with all the guys again.

The minibot let his Blaster drop down a little, and the broad mouth became even broader as he grinned. "You know Skids?"

"Yeah, from before the war." Brawl dared step a little closer again. "You have the biggest mouth I've ever seen," he said before he could stop himself, and tensed again.

To his surprise, the minibot didn't seem angry; he laughed, the weapon vanished somewhere beneath the counter. "Better than no mouth at all, plate-head."

"I do have a mouth beneath there," Brawl insisted. He let his mask retract and stuck out his glossa.

"Well, now that you convinced me that you're a potential customer with a mouth, how about a drink?"

"That's why I'm here." Brawl was just about to sit down when Swerve crossed his arms.

"How about you get the first drink free if you help me set up the bar and take the chairs of the tables? It's not open yet after all."

"But the door was open." Brawl kept standing, and looked back, noticing a few chairs that weren't on the ground when others seemed to have been bolted to the floor.

"Yeah, well, I don't really have a door any more since the drama with Tyrest, so it's always open." Swerve shrugged, and started wiping the counter clean. "Ten stands guard. I'm surprised he let you in."

"Ten?"

"The Legislator guy, I call him Ten." Swerve nodded towards the entry, and Brawl glanced at the drone.

He'd never heard of Legislators and didn't know what the Tyrest drama had been. He didn't ask about that, but said the other thing that came to mind. "Why is there a nine on his back?"

Swerve huffed, the grin wavered for a moment before it returned again. "Because he only says 'ten'."

Brawl looked back at the minibot, his optics flickering twice as he processed the information.

After four astroseconds, he laughed loudly.