Dark Ages of Cybertron Wiki
Advertisement
Doac jpg.JPG

Back to 2011

Hammerstrike, Hot Spot

Standing at the intersection where one would turn off to the repair bay is Hammerstrike, towering in his usual statue-esque way, waiting.

Hot Spot roars along the highway in vehicle mode. He spot Hammerstrike and makes for him, nervous and excited in turn at reporting in as an Autobot - albeit a new recruit and with only the temporary chip to change his signature and no brand as yet. He stops a polite distance from Hammerstrike and transforms. The red and pale blue Cybertronian fire truck shifts and unfolds, revealing Hot Spot.

When the large vehicle rolls to a stop nearby Hammerstrike shifts his gaze and turns his head only so very slightly, watching as it unfolds to Hot Spot. He inclines his head in greeting and puts out his hand in a beckoning gesture.

Hot Spot approaches, a grin on his face that's 80% enthusiasm and 20% nerves. He's very pleased to see Hammerstrike, and /extremely/ eager to make a good impression, especially considering the fact he was lost when they first met. "Reporting as instructed, sir," he says.

Hammerstrike inclines his head again. "First, your barracks. Come," Hammerstrike responds in his usual laconic manner. He turns, pauses a moment, and then begins walking with heavy steps, expecting Hot Spot to keep up.

"He doesnt belive what I'm doing is ethical. That's feelings. Why is it an odd choice? " asks Crackshot curiously

Hot Spot falls into step behind Hammerstrike. Being tall and with a long stride, he doesn't find it too hard to match Hammerstrike's pace.

Hammerstrike strides on in silence for a moment towards the barracks, before finally saying, "I am proud you finally are an Autobot."

"Thankyou!" Hot Spot says. "I think I kinda might have made Prowl smile. Maybe. I'm really happy he agreed to it. Did Prowl call you in for questions when you enlisted?"

Hammerstrike shakes his head 'no' as they finally reach the turn-off to the barracks. "I spoke with another who likely reports to Prowl."

"Ah, I'm sure they must all be really busy," Hot Spot says, but Hammerstrike's words cement his theory that Prowl was the one to talk to him because of the combiner team issue. He tries to take in as much of the barracks as he can. Coming at them from this direction, they're far larger than he remembers. "Have you ever met the Prime?" Hot Spot asks.

Hammerstrike inclines his head as they make their way down to the spacious lot where make collossal warehouses are neatly laid out in rows. "Yes."

Hot Spot 's mouth forms an impressed O, but no sound comes out for several astroseconds. Then, "Wow," Hot Spot whispers, as he follows Hammerstrike towards the warehouses. "What's he like?"

Hammerstrike leads Hot Spot down one of the many naturally formed corridors between the towering warehouses, the numbers of this row in the single digits. "Noble and awe inspiring, yet somehow humble."

Hot Spot pays as close attention as he can to the numbers on the buildings, and any other identifying features, but he's far more interested in Hammerstrike's words. "Have you ever seen him in battle?" he says.

"Yes," Hammerstrike responds. He slows down as they reach Warehouse 4, glancing at it long and hard, and then turns to Hot Spot, gesturing to the heavy shutter-style doors.

"Oh wow!" Hot Spot says, then stops beside Hammerstrike. Somehow, he manages to stop himself from launching a hundred and one questions about what Optimus is like in battle at Hammerstrike and instead looks at the heavy doors. But he can't help just one question. "More than once?"

"Yes," comes another confirmation from Hammerstrike as he approaches the heavy doors and hits a button. Slowly, it begins opening with a shudder and rolling, thunderous noise. Hammerstrike watches it reflectively for a moment before gesturing for Hot Spot to go in. "You'll be sharing."

Hot Spot heads inside. He can imagine Hammerstrike supporting Optimus in battle, the two of them performing all kinds of heroic and brave manoeuvres, rescuing citizens and banishing the Decepticons back to Polyhex. Then he's brought back out of his daydream by Hammerstrike's comment about sharing. "Who with?" he responds cheerfully. He always has been one to prefer the bustle and camaraderie of a common dorm to the solitude of his own room.

Hammerstrike just stands on the outside respectfully, since this is not his lodging. "This is also where First Aid rests... when he gets rest."

"Great!" Hot Spot cries. "Hang on, what do you mean 'when'?"

Hammerstrike tilts his head ever so slightly to one side. "First Aid is a hard worker," is all the reply he gives before straightening his posture once more.

"He's that all right," Hot Spot says. "But it shouldn't cut into his recharge time..." He gives Hammerstrike a steady look, very much expecting him to elaborate. Hero-worship he may have for the mech, but when it comes to his team it's suddenly all business.

Hammerstrike stares back down at Hot Spot. There is a brief silence between them until Hammerstrike finally adds, "He works /too/ hard, I worry."

Very seriously, Hot Spot asks, "How much recharge does he get, usually?"

"Not enough," Hammerstrike gruffly replies.

Hot Spot nods decisively. "I'll have a word with him," he says. "And keep an optic out as well. I'll make sure he gets enough." He's more than a little worried, and a little annoyed as well; First Aid should realise that recharge is essential to proper performance.

Hammerstrike says nothing, but just gives a decisive nod of approval and a slight grunt.

Hot Spot tilts his head, as though listening to something not audible to anyone else. He looks up at Hammerstrike. "I need to report to the War Room," he says. "I've only been there once before, would you be ale to show me the way? If you have time, I mean. And thankyou for showing me to the barracks."

Hammerstrike inclines his head. "Follow me," he instructs and sets off on a surprisingly brisk pace for someone of his build.

Hot Spot strides off after Hammerstrike, contemplating the radio message he just received, and trying to committ the route to memory.

Advertisement