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scintillating-galaxias · 4 years

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simpatico week day 4 - multiverse

MTMTE and cyberverse perceptor and brainstorm collide!! @simpaticoweek read it here on ao3!

Brainstorm gasped and grabbed Perceptor’s arm while pointing at mech with a familiar red, white, and blue color scheme standing amongst the curious crowd. “Perce, look!”

Perceptor looked around, alarmed. “What? What is it?”

“Next to the red mech with the white face! It’s you!”

Before Perceptor could stop him, Brainstorm hurried off towards the mech. This mech had the same white dials on his forearms, and even the same cylindrical, white scope mounted on his shoulder—a dead-ringer for an alternate-universe Perceptor. i

“Excuse me!” Brainstorm called. The mech turned around, and whoa, he wasn’t expecting the burnt-out optics. “Uh. Hello. You’re Perceptor, right?”

“I am,” said the mech. He didn’t have the same slight accent as Percy did; his voice was flatter, a bit more neutral. The scope on his shoulder lit up, shining a bright blue light on Brainstorm’s face. Definitely, a scanner of some sort, though it left a bizarre, faintly prickly sensation across Brainstorm’s plating he didn’t usually get when Ratchet or First Aid scanned him. “I don’t recognize you. I’m assuming you’re one of our visitors from the alternate universe?”

“Name’s Brainstorm, resident genius of the universe next door. How are you seeing me right now? Is it something with your scope?”

“Correct. I reformatted my scope to operate as a visual feed after I blew out my optics.”

Guess that was a universal concept, Perceptor’s redesigning or changing their scopes for some entirely different use than their original one. “You did? What happened?”

“It’s not any of your business to ask that,” he chided.

Brainstorm put up his servos apologetically. Then, realizing his error, said, “Sorry,” after a second.

The other Perceptor gave him a look of pointed disapproval so similar to his Perceptor’s, he was almost afraid he was about to start getting chewed out for his messy labeling jobs.

“Be more mindful of your questions next time,” the other Perceptor said instead. “As for your other inquiry: I could tell you made a motion in front of your chest with your hands, and you did something else just now, but details such as color and specific body parts such as your digits are lost to me when my scope is inactive.”

“Fascinating,” said a familiar voice. Perceptor, his Percy, had finally made it through the crowd and over to them. Brainstorm felt his spark lift a bit higher in its chamber as Perceptor came to a stop beside him, servo almost unconsciously winding itself into his.

The scope went on again. “You’re… Me, I presume?” the other Perceptor asked, interest coloring his voice.

“I am Perceptor, yes.”

“Fascinating,” said the other Perceptor, and Brainstorm laughed.

“Primus, you two really are the same mech.”

“Of course,” they said in tandem, and then they looked at each other. Brainstorm poorly stifled another laugh.

“Your scope,” Perceptor prompted. “You scanned Brainstorm and I and compared the information it collected to a pre-existing database before confirming you didn’t know who we were. I can only assume you made code-based modifications to it?”

“That is correct.”

“May I ask what kind of modifications? My scope gives me enhanced magnification, but nothing to that extent, so you’ll have to forgive my curiosity.”

Other-Perceptor, who had now earned the prefix ‘Other’ in Brainstorm’s processor because otherwise, it would be a nightmare to try and recount later, cleared his throat. “When in use, it can collect information such as the light values and assign them to colors using a code assigned to every paint color on record, and how the percentage of much of each color is present within the whole subject.” He didn’t gesture nearly as much as Perceptor, either, Brainstorm noted. So far, he was turning out to be far more reserved than his Perceptor. Or... No, he reminded Brainstorm of when he’d first met Perceptor on the Lost Light. Heh. Maybe he’d had an influence on his conjunx after all. “That allows me to tell apart primary, secondary, and tertiary colors, so even if two mechs have similar paint colors, the chances they have the same frame and paint jobs are extremely slim. Decals like those on Hot Rod aren’t so easily discernible. That allows me to match the color codes to virtually any mech in my database. It isn’t the most accurate system, but it is precise enough.”

“That is remarkable,” Perceptor said, reaching up to touch his own scope. “I’ve reformatted myself before, but not to that sort of extent. Have you made any other modifications?”

“Numerous, since the threat of the Quintesson’s and Megatron X were eliminated.”

“Megatron X?”

Brainstorm tuned them out as they traded stories and statistics, looking around the crowd for some mech that could possibly be him. He could see Whirl with his arm slung around another blue, singled-opticked helicopter. Both were laughing rapturously about something. In the next cycle of Brainstorm’s code, they were wrestling each other to the ground. Rodimus was excitedly chatting it up with Hot Rod, who had enthusiastically introduced himself the second the Lost Light crew had stepped out of the portal. Beside Hot Rod was Soundwave of all mechs, and even more bizarrely, he seemed to have his servo loosely held around Hot Rod’s waist. Brainstorm only lingered on it a little bit. He wasn’t one for gossip, but even he knew that was going to be the talk of the ship later. Nearby, Drift was looking spectacularly sulky, though a cheery yellow mech was making valiant attempts at cheering him up. And of course, Megatron was talking to Other-Megatron and Other-Optimus Prime, and seemed to be rather wistfully staring at the two’s shared proximity to each other.

All in all, it felt like a very successful experiment in Brainstorm’s spark. All these mechs had somehow found their alternate selves, even though there’d been no guarantee they would even exist in this universe. And still, more mechs Brainstorm didn’t even recognize who were intermingling with the Lost Light crew. Successful experiment indeed. Except for one, tiny detail.

“Where am I?” he asked, interrupting the Perceptor’s conversation. “I mean, everyone else has a double. Where’s the other me?”

Other-Perceptor tilted his head. “I don’t know. There is no record of a Brainstorm in the Autobot databases.”

“Oh.” Brainstorm tapped his pede while Perceptor lightly squeezed his servo. “What about a Genitus?”

“One moment.” Other-Perceptor’s scope dipped down slightly. Then, after a moment, it straightened back out, and he looked at Brainstorm. “There’s no record of a Genitus, either.”

“Huh.” Damn. He really hoped alternate-Brainstorm wasn’t dead. That would suck. Or maybe he had a different paint job than Brainstorm did. Other-Perceptor had said his database was based on color. Or maybe… “I was a Decepticon for a bit in my universe,” he offered. Other-Perceptor offered no reaction to this fact except for a minute twitch of his scope. “Maybe this one still is.”

“If you wish to search the Decepticon databases, I would ask Soundwave. He and Hot Rod have been in charge of integrating the two sides since the defeat of Megatron X, and though there is still much to work to be done, he is likely your best chance.”

A brilliant idea lit up Brainstorm’s face. “You should come with us!” he said, optics sparkling. “I’m great! I’m sure you’d have a blast with this universe’s Stormy.”

“I’m not sure that’s—”

“Naw, come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t resist him,” Perceptor advised. “He can be extremely persistent.”

Other-Perceptor sighed with a tired acceptance. “Alright, then. Let us go.”

Brainstorm whirled around on his heel and happily marched right through the crowd, cheerfully announcing, “Coming through!” approximately half a second before barrelling through a conversation. He made it through the crowd in record time and stopped promptly before Hot Rod, Soundwave, and Rodimus. All three of them immediately turn towards them, though their interest is evidently in the two Perceptor’s and not the incredibly antsy jet.

“What do you want?” rumbled Soundwave. Jeez. Did he always sound that menacing?

“Be nice,” Hot Rod scolded. “You know these guys. Perceptor, Perceptor two, and… who’re you?”

“That’s Brainstorm,” answered Rodimus over Brainstorm’s affronted noise. “He and Perceptor were the ones who figured out the whole… universe swap magic.”

“Time travel, alternate universe traveling. Twice, I might add,” Brainstorm said, primly turning over his servo as he looked down at his digits with extreme satisfaction. “No biggie.”

Rodimus rolled his optics. “Toot your own horn later,” he complained. “We get it. You’re smart. Primus knows you don’t let us forget it. Now, why’d you come over here?”

“To ask him something,” Brainstorm said, angling his wing at Soundwave, who stiffened. “I want him to look up this universe’s version of me. Your Perceptor couldn’t find me in the Autobot databases and recommended we check the Decepticon ones.”

“I dunno,” said Hot Rod, looking Brainstorm up and down with a doubtful frown. “I’ve met a lot of mechs, and I’ve never seen anyone like him…”

“You weren’t ever a Decepticon,” said Soundwave. “I am.” Rodimus, Perceptor, and Brainstorm all shared a look, but Hot Rod either didn’t care about or didn’t notice the tense. “I recognize the name. Megatron banished the Decepticon scientist Brainstorm to an off-planet site early in the war because his experiments potentially posed a greater threat to Cybertron than anything else at the time. We have not been in contact with him since.”

Brainstorm pouted. “‘Potentially posed?’ You didn’t even let me stick around to find out? Where’s the fun in that?”

Soundwave leveled him with the dryest, most unamused look Brainstorm’s ever seen from someone without a face. “You were a menace to all of Cybertronian society.”

“Nothing’s changed then,” said Perceptor. Brainstorm flicked him in the leg with one of his ankle winglets.

“Wait,” said Hot Rod. “You banished someone for ‘potentially threatening’ experiments, and you still let Shockwave run around? He tried to destroy Earth like, five times! He literally poisoned the AllSpark! He nearly killed everyone and the whole planet! What kind of logic is that?”

“Same old then,” Rodimus said drily.

Hot Rod sighed. “It’s a long story. He’s gone now, anyway. How long has Brainstorm been away? Does he even know the war’s over?”

Soundwave paused. “Uncertain. All contact with the moon he was banished to and Cybertron was cut off directly after his arrival.”

Hot Rod and Rodimus both clapped a servo over their face. Other-Perceptor shook his head, while Perceptor consolingly patted Brainstorm on the pauldron. “Unbelievable,” Brainstorm groaned. “Megatron looked at my EM field and thought it was awful enough to kick me off the planet. And then he forgot. Me! Forgot about me!”

“A slight oversight has been made,” Soundwave admitted. “I will inform Megatron and arrange a ship for him immediately. If he still functions.”

Hot Rod huffed. “Oh, even better! You left some innocent guy on the moon, and now he might be dead?”

“Should we go?” muttered Rodimus as Soundwave and Hot Rod broke out into bickering. Brainstorm nodded and slowly started backing away, and the two Perceptor’s plus Rodimus followed him.

“When can we expect an answer?” Perceptor asked Other-Perceptor once they were safely out of ear-shot.

“Soundwave is usually prompt about these things, based on my work experience with him. Megatron is… less so, I’m told. I would wager at least a couple of weeks.”

“Are we staying that long?” Brainstorm asked Rodimus.

“Is something catastrophic going to happen if we do?”

“There’s an eighty-nine point seven-five-three-four-two-four percent chance that the portal could destabilize and collapse, trapping us here until someone aboard Lost Light reopens the portal. Given that everyone who knows how to operate that portal is currently here, it would be implausible we would be able to return to our universe,” said Perceptor.

“It’ll be fine,” said Brainstorm after a stiflingly tense beat. “C’mon, I wanna go talk to Wheeljack.”

“Still can’t believe they just left me on the moon,” Brainstorm muttered. He, Perceptor, and Other-Perceptor were currently making their way to a temporary condominium in residential Iacon. It currently was housing a number of freshly displaced Cybertronians until something more suitable could be found or built for them. As Other-Perceptor had predicted, it’d taken roughly twelve days for them to be informed of Other-Brainstorm’s (whose name actually was Brainstorm, not Genitus) whereabouts. It’d then taken another two days for Other-Brainstorm to say he was ready to accept visitors, and another four to get plans in place.

“I’m sure it was nothing personal,” Perceptor was saying as they squeezed their way around a group of laughing mechs.

“I’ve never heard of this mech,” Other-Perceptor mused. “But he must have had some truly uncanny ideas if Megatron decided he was too dangerous for his tastes.”

Brainstorm hummed. “Yeah. I wonder what that poor sod discovered to wind up getting him kicked off the planet.” He gasped and stopped suddenly, servos flying to his subspace. “Scrap! I left my notes in the lab! I wanted to compare them with him!”

Perceptor made an apologetic noise but reluctantly said, “That’s probably for the best. You’d be here for years if you had your notes, and we have to make it back to the Lost Light for our reservations at Swerve’s anyway. I don’t want to try and cajole him into giving us the bar for the evening again.”

“Yeah,” Brainstorm sighed. “There’s always next time, I guess. Hey, do you think our next date could be in another universe?”

“I don’t see why not. Perhaps the energon will be different.”

“What if there isn’t even energon in that universe?”

“Hm, true. I didn’t consider that. We’ll bring our own in case that happens to be the case.”

Other-Perceptor was watching them carefully. “What is the relationship between you two?” he asked mildly. “I didn’t want to assume, but…”

“We’re conjunx endura,” Perceptor said, that especially pleased sparkle that always showed up in his optic whenever he talked about their recent unification glowing to life once again. It gave Brainstorm weird fuzzy feelings in his circuits. He’d have to investigate what precisely in his code caused that later.

“‘Conjunx?’” Other-Perceptor frowned. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“Write that down, write that down!” Brainstorm hissed, grabbing Perceptor’s arm.

“You write it down. I’m attempting to have a conversation,” said Perceptor, brushing Brainstorm’s servo before capturing it in his own. He gave it a light squeeze, which had Brainstorm’s wings fluttering away. “Yes. Brainstorm is my conjunx. The formal term is conjunx endura. It, in an extremely oversimplified definition, means he is my significant other.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. “I see. I don’t have one such partner myself. The war and the Quintesson invasion took away most time for such matters. For most others, anyway.” Brainstorm thought of Soundwave’s servo on Hot Rod’s hip and wondered what in the hell happened to this universe for that to happen.

“But the war’s done now, isn’t it?” he said as they turned down into a plaza and started making their way toward the condominium.

“Allow me to rephrase. I’m not interested in seeking such a relationship at the moment. A new lab partner is more than sufficient. And I must admit I am curious about what exactly it is this Brainstorm created that scared Megatron of all mechs so badly.”

“Eh, that’s fair. Lab partner is still pretty alright.”

“I happen to agree with that,” said Perceptor.

“Oh, you just happen to?”

“You know what I mean.”

The three of them entered through the first set of doors and were met with a wall of buttons labeled with room numbers. Other-Perceptor unhesitantly pushed the button to Other-Brainstorm’s room. A few seconds later, a small screen flickered to life, revealing someone with a familiar orange blast mask.

“My wings look different,” Brainstorm commented as soon as the connection stabilized.

“Good thing they’re my wings and not yours,” Other-Brainstorm snipped back without missing a beat. Brainstorm barked a laugh.

“Fair enough! Can we come down?”

A loud crash! crackled through the speakers. Other-Perceptor grimaced, while Perceptor merely looked faintly resigned. Other-Brainstorm, entirely unperturbed, said, “Yeah, yeah, just watch your step when you come in. I haven’t gotten to organize yet, so the place is a tad messy.”

“Oh, dear,” murmured Perceptor as the second set of doors to the lobby slid open and the trio of scientists stepped through. “I can only hope that this universe’s Brainstorm’s idea of ‘messy’ is far more reasonable than yours.”

Brainstorm narrowed his optics. “Is this about the moldy energon crystal sample again? I feel like this is about the moldy energon crystal sample again.”

“It was there for three years, Brainstorm.”

“So I sometimes lose track of things! Big deal!”

“How did he manage that?” asked Other-Perceptor as they piled into the elevator. Were all elevators in his universe this roomy? This one could have comfortably housed a few more average-sized mechs like himself. Or maybe like, twelve Tailgate’s or Rewind’s.

Perceptor sighed. “I still haven’t quite managed to parse that one out. All I know is that three years ago, it wasn’t possible to grow mold on crystalized energon.”

Brainstorm threw up his servos, narrowly avoiding whacking Perceptor’s scope. “You’re teaming up on me!” he whined. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it was bad.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

The elevator was a short ride to the basement, so it was only a few seconds before the doors dinged open, and the three of them spilled out into the hall.

“Which way?” asked Other-Perceptor.

At that moment, a shrill whistling began to shriek from the leftward hallway, pitching up higher and louder with every passing second until it was cut off with a loud bang accompanied by profuse swearing.

“G51 sounds like it’s that way,” Perceptor said dryly.

He’s correct, of course, and Brainstorm knocks a cheery rhythm against the door. It slid open, and in the doorway stood Other-Brainstorm. Yep. That was him, alright. There was the teal paint job, the white wings, and… a purple Decepticon sigil, branded right across his orange cockpit. Yeesh.

“I was starting to think I’d cleaned up for nothing,” Other-Brainstorm greeted.

“If this is your idea of clean, I’d hate to see what messy is,” mused Other-Perceptor as he stepped into the threshold, scope bobbing wildly as it drank in the chaotic environment. A criss-cross of thick cables and wires were taped to the ground, winding around the room to various machines lined up against the walls. Multiple experiments suspended in thin air crowded up the ceiling, ranging from maybe-guns to definitely-guns to things Brainstorm didn’t even know what to call. Datapads were scattered everywhere, tossed into open drawers, and haphazardly stacked into concerningly tall towers.

“Hardy har,” said Other-Brainstorm, crossing his arms. “Who’re you to start critiquing my workspace?”

“I am this universe’s Perceptor. I am a scientist like yourself. And my companions are an alternate version of you and I.”

Other-Brainstorm looked distinctly unimpressed. “Alternative universes? Please. That was like, a million years ago.”

“What?” squawked Brainstorm.

“You—Excuse me?” Perceptor gaped.

Other-Perceptor pushed further inside and started scanning the massive whiteboard taking up an entire wall of the apartment. “I don’t recognize any of the formulas here,” he said, somehow sounding simultaneously highly skeptical and impressed. “What are they?”

“Oh, I derived those. They describe a relationship between the mesh that constitutes the space-time continuum of multiple dimensions and any one object,” Other-Brainstorm said with a shrug.

Other-Perceptor stared at the board for a while longer. Then he turned around and said, “I can see why Megatron would perceive you as a class one threat. These could cause insurmountable amounts of devastation if they fell into the wrong hands.”

Other-Brainstorm threw up his hands. “Why does everyone keep saying that! I’m not gonna do anything!”

“Why make these, then?”

“I had to see if I could.” He paused. “And it gets boring on the moon.”

“A test, then? A game?”

“I guess? It’s not that deep, to be honest. I was just having fun.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. Then, he turned and neatly sat down in a nearby stool, chin jutted up. “You’re going to tell me everything you’ve learned,” he said calmly, “and I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Uh.” Other-Brainstorm blinked. “You sure you won’t be missed anywhere? Might take a while,” he warned.

“I might be. I don’t care.”

“...Slag. Okay. I guess I’ll start with… Well, where do you wanna start?”

“The beginning. I meant everything.”

“Well, damn,” Brainstorm murmured to Perceptor as Other-Brainstorm stared for a second before he grinned and launched into his explanations. “That was fast.”

“He might not be missed,” said Perceptor, “but we will be if we don’t leave soon.”

“Aw, c’mon, we were just getting to the fun part!”

“You can get caught up later when you come back,” Other-Perceptor said, half-distracted as Other-Brainstorm brought up a sprawling holograph of notes. Brainstorm whined a bit; he didn’t know what those equations were for either, and he was dying to know. But Perceptor was right. Rodimus’ threats to leave anyone late to take-off behind were not to be taken lightly. He’d done it before, and he would do it again.

“I’m holding you to that.” Brainstorm shimmied out of the doorway and back out into the hallway. “C’mon Percy, let’s go.”

Once they were back outside the condominium, Perceptor and Brainstorm took a bit of time to meander around the city, trying to identify anything they could. But the buildings here were in a completely different style to the ones on the Cybertron they were familiar with, and monuments and popular spots in town looked nothing at all like what either of them knew them to be. God, it was positively killing Brainstorm to have to leave so quickly. Slaughtering him. There was so much to explore still, so many more questions he had, and not enough of them had been answered to tide him over until their next visit.

“Do you think they’ll get along?” Perceptor asked as they finally began to make their way back to the Lost Light. The fuel quills were nearly at full mast, the sharp points just barely peeking out above the city skyline. They’d need to hurry.

Brainstorm glanced at him. “You don’t think they will?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m only asking because I know we didn’t exactly have what one would call an instant connection when we started working together.”

A thunderous, rumbling boom cut Brainstorm off before he could answer. Seconds later, the shockwave rolled over them, just strong enough to force them to take a step back. They whipped around, a plume of black smoke already smudging the air in the direction of the condominium.

“You know what?” Brainstorm said as the smoke rose higher and higher. “I think they’re gonna get along just fine, Percy.”

#simpaticoweek2020 #simpatico #tf #my writing #multiverse shenanigans!#the inspiration behind cbv stormy was the single thought 'lord megatron thought my vibes were rancid'#perceptor #brainstorm #maccadam

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