Forged (A Transformers FanFic)

Chapter One

The noise of the club was pure vibration. It thrummed through Crosshairs' body as he passed the bouncers. Bumblebee followed him, the intricate holoform disguising his metal body projecting a young human male dressed in jeans and a shirt, with light brown eyes and similarly-coloured hair lightly tousled back. It gave him an innocent, puppy-dog look. It suited him, as did the rougher, older male holoform Crosshairs wore. All of the autobots had created their own holoforms once Optimus had re-acquired the knowledge to transform down their matter to a still smaller form, like the allspark had. Their nanoforms. Crosshairs' features had begun to dominate his holoform almost immediately, his personality inherently being too proud to hide behind the fake shell. The other autobots were at varying levels with their holos, depending on how long they'd been using them and how strong their inner personality was.

Now that they could mingle on the fleshing's level, they were rapidly gaining a better understanding of humans that their previous perspective had inhibited. They came face to face with the good and bad of humanity at a more intimate level none of them would have thought possible a few years back. Crosshairs glanced behind him, doing a double take as he realised Bumblebee had stopped and was watching a group of dancers writhing under the cold strobe lights. Raising his optics to the ceiling, Crosshairs willed a mote of patience into his circuitry, "Bee." His voice carried over the baselines of the music, and the young mech reluctantly tore himself away, throwing glances back over his shoulder as he resumed following Crosshairs.

There was much to enjoy in the human's world, apparently. Prime had encouraged them to mingle as and when their schedules allowed. Crosshairs wasn't particularly interested, and only did so when he had to. The fleshlings for the most part seemed content to flit away their lives doing mundane things like watching TV, getting drunk or playing video games. None of that enriched their lives, taught them anything. He couldn't understand how they could be happy with an existence like that.

He started as a sultry voice reached his ears, "Hey there handsome, wanna dance?"

He turned to see a dark haired woman in a skin tight dress gazing up at Bee. She had a drink clutched in one hand and Crosshairs wondered for a moment what she'd do with it if Bee actually took her up on the offer, but the young mech just stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot. The woman's smile wilted when no answer was forthcoming and Bee looked at Crosshairs for help.

He fought the urge to facepalm and forced his face into a more pleasant expression, crossing the short distance to stand beside Bee, "Look, lady, he doesn't talk."

When she blinked at him stupidly he sighed and elaborated, "He's a mute." He drew a hand across his throat, miming severed vocal chords.

"A mute?" She rolled the word in her mouth as if she'd never heard it before, "So he's like," She leaned forward, dropping her voice as much as the surrounding music allowed, "A bit... special?"

Amusement sparked in Crosshair's synapses and he nodded, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, "You could say that. It's best to leave him alone."

"Oh." To her credit she had the grace to look disappointed before drifting back into the crowd in the general direction of the bar.

Crosshairs clapped a hand on Bee's shoulder, still amused, "Come on, before you get all the female fleshlings after you."

Bee nodded emphatically and followed Crosshairs to the back of the club.

The bouncer was different from last night's, but quickly backed down and let them through when Crosshairs flashed the card he'd been given. The velvet rope clinked back into place behind them and they proceeded through the dark wooden door, the noise of the dance floor fading until it was just a faint thumping penetrating the concrete walls.