Elusive Truths and Graceful Lies
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nothing owns me.
Warnings: Mild mech slash with possible indications of human/mech fluff…
Summary: Cyclonus finds something Demolisher has worked very hard to keep to himself.
Note: In connection to my other Armada fic, "Snow and Ice." Reading that is not needed, but can help clear up some details.
"Hey, Demolisher, what's this?"
If the most loyal mech in the Decepticon Elite had ever wanted a stronger lock for his room's door, it was in that moment.
With Starscream gone, the tank had become the most burdened person in the Moon base. Now, not only was he stuck with his regular duties, he had to help with building the spaceship, chasing the Mini-cons and, of course, cleaning up any mess made via scuffles among themselves.
All Demolisher wanted to do was recharge, even when he found his door open with the resident lunatic sitting on his berth. All that really needed to happen for Cyclonus to leave was for the berth's owner to knock him off and ignore him.
But now, light green optics , previously dimmed from exhaustion, were bright with electric panic.
Held curiously in the helicopter's right hand, glinting brilliantly in the light like some treasure, was Demolisher's horrible, tarnishing, dirty, dirty secret. The thing that kept him awake the first night it was in his possession, in his tidy room, for fear that it would animate and scream what it had done.
A human 'pocket knife.' The exact same one that had, a month ago, belonged to that female fleshling of the Autobots. The exact same knife he had taken great pains to keep hidden from even Blackout.
Slag.
"Demolisher?" The whiney voice questioned, waving his other hand in front of the older mech's face.
Respond, respond now!!
"…Um, it's a weapon." He answered lamely. Maybe if he just answered the pumpkin faced mech's questions, he'd lose interest and go bother someone else. That's how it usually worked.
Still twiddling the knife, Cyclonus hadn't lost that queer look in his optics, "A weapon? This thing doesn't look like it could do squat for anything but a squishy or a Mini-con. Where'd you get it?"
Bad, bad, ba-a-ad. Cyclonus could always tell when Demolisher was lying. Didn't notice or care when anyone else lied, but with the tank…
Wait, he can tell when I'm lying outright… but, not when I just bypass certain facts.
Resisting the twitch in his faceplate that would lead to a smirk, the burly mech answered the 'copter's questions to the extent he preferred, "From Earth, about a month ago."
"From where?"
A forgetful human, who helped me for no apparent reason… "In the snow, near that freezing, middle of nowhere, ice box of a town."
"You mean Liarland?" Ah, right. Cyclonus had dubbed Greenland that after the hazardous battle that day.
That's right, think about what misrepresenting creatures humans are. Change the subject. Or better yet, leave so I can hide that thing and get some recharge.
Seeming to finally get bored with the conversation, the psychotic 'Con put the weapon back where he had found it. In Demolisher's desk, under hundreds of small, spare parts. He swore, sometimes the tank was such a pack rat.
Moving slowly onto his berth, thinking any sudden movement could cause the loon to go straight back to the topic he didn't want to discuss, Demolisher hoped against hope that he could get to the business of recharge. The jolt of Cyclonus' first question had started to wear off, being replaced with thoughts of hiding that knife much better in the immediate future.
It almost seemed as if the helicopter was going to leave the tank alone, servos about to switch off the light, (something he only did for Demolisher).
But, no. He paused in his motion, remembering something important. The flyer wasn't sure why it was important, but…
"You weren't there that day, though…"
Deciding it wasn't worth shifting out of his comfortable position upon the berth, Demolisher just kept his optics off-line to correct the statement,
"Yes, I was. For hours. Just not on the battlefield."
Turning back around, Cyclonus noticed the somber, dejected note in his friend's voice. Perhaps he said the wrong thing? He wasn't sure what he could have said to cause this decline in Demolisher's mood.
Only one real way to find out.
"Then, where were you?"
"In the town, looking for the Mini-con… under a bridge." Not really a lie.
"But, that Mini-con was at the center of the town, it wasn't anywhere near a bridge. Why didn't you call for back-up?"
Kinda hard to do that when frozen solid. Demolisher shifted uncomfortably, a motion Cyclonus did know well enough to read.
"Did something happen? One of the Autobots do somethin'?" He now remembered the bigger mech warping in that day with chipped paint, scratch marks and rigid movements. He also remembered ignoring him in favor of racing Starscream to the regeneration chamber.
"No, nothing like that." Demolisher answered, optics still off.
Now, Cyclonus wasn't the smartest Decepticon, but he knew the other mech well enough just to know when he hid something, "Then, what…?"
A long, contemplating pause.
"I was kinda… stuck. Frozen, if you will."
"Frozen?! How?"
"Not all of the water was solid. At least, not the stuff flowing downhill. I was stupid, in vehicle mode and got doused. Two minutes later I could only move my treads and even then, not very well…"
The helicopter's jaw hung loosely, imagining how horrible that would be. He didn't even like his circuits a little cold, and Demolisher had been frozen. In ice, without any—hold on.
Demolisher himself seemed to realize his mistake, as he on lined his optics and watched the deranged whirly-bird glanced back at where the pocket knife was. One of Cyclonus' optic ridges rose as he asked, very suspicious now, "How, exactly, did you get out of that position?"
I am so, so slagged. Quick, think of something to say!... Think of anything!
However, before anything was said, Cyclonus slammed his fist upon the button that closed the door, leaving them completely alone together, away from prying optics and audios. And Cyclonus was still staring at the desk.
Again, he wasn't the smartest Decepticon ever, but he wasn't stupid. One plus two is three. Decepticon plus Autobot equals battle. Human weapon plus frozen Demolisher means…
"You were helped by a skinbag and didn't tell me?!!" Cyclonus practically screamed, quickly silenced, though, as Demolisher's hands forcibly slammed his mouth shut.
"And this is why—Yow!" Sharp pain ran through the tank as the flyer's dentals bit down on his left fist. Yeah, he didn't think Cyclonus would care this much.
"Which one of the pipsqueaks was it, huh?!" Wow, he seemed scary-mad, "I'll bet it was the fat one that talked to Leader-1, wasn't it?"
"Erm, no."
"The loud mouthed, tall one?"
"Double no."
"The tan one that says 'man' and 'dude' a lot?"
"Negative."
"The blue-wearing alpha male that shocked both me and Megatron on the same day?"
"Getting close."
However, this is where Cyclonus' memory ran short, "The alpha male's Mini-con?"
Demolisher couldn't understand why, but he felt a little offended that the person who had actually helped him wasn't in the other 'Con's memory. Raising his hand, he flicked his friend between the optics before he could list anymore people. It was really getting pathetic.
Cyclonus yelped at this action, but became silent as the yellow and red tank indicated to come closer. Annoyed, but wanting very much to know more on this secret, he leaned forward. Wasn't often they had this kind of gossip.
"If I tell you," Demolisher started, very serious, "You can't speak of it to anyone. Especially not Thrust or… Megatron."
"Okay," He suddenly felt giddy. Demolisher didn't keep anything from the Lord of Destruction. This was gonna be sweet.
"Promise!"
"I swear." And he did. He liked keeping the other's secrets. He carried so few of them, after all.
Sighing, Demolisher prepared for the worst as he spoke out his secret to the one person in galaxies he probably shouldn't, "The one who got me out of that predicament was… the female."
At this, his friend's face seemed for a moment to flash… jealousy? No, that couldn't be right. Why would Cyclonus be jealous of a human youngling?
"Well," Cyclonus uttered, moving for the door, deviously plotting something in his head. Something Demolisher was certain he would absolutely hate in the long run, "I'll have to thank her the next time we fight the Autobrats…"
And with that, he left the room, bidding Demolisher a good night nod. Unfortunately, this left the tank with a feeling, rather like he had when Megatron had attacked Starscream or when Wheeljack had joined their troop.
Oh, bad feeling. Bad feeling…