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Description

A picture and a small fic! Based off of future events in Oracle of Cybertron, where a certain combaticon medic finds out he is not who he thought he was.
Also stars a certain tiger sparkling of the @cavalierconvoy variety!

Sketchwork by Dante
Line art and Coloring by myself

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It was the first time that Merkava could remember that his first instinct was to lash out and push someone away. He knew what the scans meant from his time in the Stormrave Military Academy. Modification, alteration. All the words that should mean nothing to a cybertronian when you considered it was their very nature to transform.
But most cybertronians hadn’t lived through the hell of being treated as Brawl’s bastard son. As he stumbled away from the femme that had tried to comfort him, a rage started to build at the pit of his stomach. He could live with the history he had believed, that he truly was a Neo Combaticon in the truest sense. At least he had the excuse of coming from a military background. But this... there were only so many techno-organic components Starscream could have taken-
“Merkava...” The voice was soft as the one who had rebranded herself as Motormaster caught his attention. The larger femme had her palms out, trying to look like less of a threat. “We can talk about this. There’s no need for... for violence.” The irony was not lost on Merkava. Motormaster’s abrasive ways were well known, but she was trying to talk him down?
But of course she was. His eyes narrowed for a moment, realization dawning over his face. She thought he was her sparkling, lost before it could take form. But he wasn’t really, was he? Not anymore, if he ever was. He started to prime his weapons, growling to himself. He couldn’t help it, the rage was burning in his spark and no amount of banter would stop it. “I’m leaving. This... this was a mistake.” He growled to himself, before feeling a hand on his shoulder.
He turned and swung for the mech trying to restrain him, striking him in the chest. It was a large tiger mech in blue, red, and black attire. The blow knocked the wind out of Tim, but not much more as he wrapped his arms around the fellow bulk of a mech. “Calm down Merk... come on...” He pleaded to the younger mech, noting the look in his face. “This isn’t you, you’re a medic of primus sakes.”
“Am I? How can you be certain that’s what I am? I certainly can’t with these recriminations.” Merkava snarled at Tim, angry again for entirely other reasons. How dare he tell him what he was supposed to be. Tim had drawn the luck of fate when it came to unusual sparklings. He wasn’t used as an experiment, left with an abusive coder who never let the boy forget what he thought of him. “Am I a stunticon now? is that it? Am I supposed to dance for their amusement? A puppet cut free of it’s strings?” He snarled in Tim’s direction, anger still throbbing in his spark.
Tim frowned, unsure of how to respond to this. “No... no one said that Merk. I know you’re a medic because that’s what you do. What you’ve always done, look out for people and their well being.” He struggled to think of more. “That girl... Vindicator, the one in the next room. You’re the one who operated on her, right? She seems to think you’re a medic and a darn good one at that.”
Tim’s words seemed to cool Merkava’s temper for a moment, as was the realization for all of his restraint... the other mech was effectively holding him in a bear hug as well. Of course Tim would do that, that was what he did... who he was. “I gave up everything to come here... and I come to find that I never really had it to begin with.” He half whispered, half groaned in Tim’s direction, looking down at the ground defeated.
“Hey... hey....” Tim responded, patting Merkava on the back. “You’re with friends now, people who’ll watch out for you.” He glances at the doorway where the second femme that accompanied Merkava glared in his direction, clearly protective of her new friend. One hand laid on top of her sidearm as she watched the proceedings, Denslayer did not trust anyone in this building... Other then Merkava, that is. Saving her friend earned her trust.
Merkava took a deep breath. “Right... right. Just...” He couldn’t turn to look in Motormaster’s direction. “No now... Not yet. I’m sorry ma’am but that’s the best I can give.” A part of him felt ashamed for this action but it couldn’t help itself. He had already destroyed a large part of his life. He did not have the strength to destroy the rest, not yet.
Motormaster paused in response, before nodding. “Alright. Believe it or not, I can understand.” She simply answered, before turning to leave. She just felt tired... relieved that her sparkling was alive and angry at what Starscream had done to them both. But mostly tired.
Merkava just muttered in Tim’s direction. “Do I have quarters?” He too was exhausted from the days events. Tim nodded and started to show him the way, even as the anger embyred for a moment in Merkava’s spark. There was a lingering thought that kept repeating itself inside of Merkava.

~Starscream... I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill that feather duster when I see him next. Do it over and over again if I have to.~

Description

A picture and a small fic! Based off of future events in Oracle of Cybertron, where a certain combaticon medic finds out he is not who he thought he was.
Also stars a certain tiger sparkling of the @cavalierconvoy variety!

Sketchwork by Dante
Line art and Coloring by myself

--------------------------------------------------------

It was the first time that Merkava could remember that his first instinct was to lash out and push someone away. He knew what the scans meant from his time in the Stormrave Military Academy. Modification, alteration. All the words that should mean nothing to a cybertronian when you considered it was their very nature to transform.
But most cybertronians hadn’t lived through the hell of being treated as Brawl’s bastard son. As he stumbled away from the femme that had tried to comfort him, a rage started to build at the pit of his stomach. He could live with the history he had believed, that he truly was a Neo Combaticon in the truest sense. At least he had the excuse of coming from a military background. But this... there were only so many techno-organic components Starscream could have taken-
“Merkava...” The voice was soft as the one who had rebranded herself as Motormaster caught his attention. The larger femme had her palms out, trying to look like less of a threat. “We can talk about this. There’s no need for... for violence.” The irony was not lost on Merkava. Motormaster’s abrasive ways were well known, but she was trying to talk him down?
But of course she was. His eyes narrowed for a moment, realization dawning over his face. She thought he was her sparkling, lost before it could take form. But he wasn’t really, was he? Not anymore, if he ever was. He started to prime his weapons, growling to himself. He couldn’t help it, the rage was burning in his spark and no amount of banter would stop it. “I’m leaving. This... this was a mistake.” He growled to himself, before feeling a hand on his shoulder.
He turned and swung for the mech trying to restrain him, striking him in the chest. It was a large tiger mech in blue, red, and black attire. The blow knocked the wind out of Tim, but not much more as he wrapped his arms around the fellow bulk of a mech. “Calm down Merk... come on...” He pleaded to the younger mech, noting the look in his face. “This isn’t you, you’re a medic of primus sakes.”
“Am I? How can you be certain that’s what I am? I certainly can’t with these recriminations.” Merkava snarled at Tim, angry again for entirely other reasons. How dare he tell him what he was supposed to be. Tim had drawn the luck of fate when it came to unusual sparklings. He wasn’t used as an experiment, left with an abusive coder who never let the boy forget what he thought of him. “Am I a stunticon now? is that it? Am I supposed to dance for their amusement? A puppet cut free of it’s strings?” He snarled in Tim’s direction, anger still throbbing in his spark.
Tim frowned, unsure of how to respond to this. “No... no one said that Merk. I know you’re a medic because that’s what you do. What you’ve always done, look out for people and their well being.” He struggled to think of more. “That girl... Vindicator, the one in the next room. You’re the one who operated on her, right? She seems to think you’re a medic and a darn good one at that.”
Tim’s words seemed to cool Merkava’s temper for a moment, as was the realization for all of his restraint... the other mech was effectively holding him in a bear hug as well. Of course Tim would do that, that was what he did... who he was. “I gave up everything to come here... and I come to find that I never really had it to begin with.” He half whispered, half groaned in Tim’s direction, looking down at the ground defeated.
“Hey... hey....” Tim responded, patting Merkava on the back. “You’re with friends now, people who’ll watch out for you.” He glances at the doorway where the second femme that accompanied Merkava glared in his direction, clearly protective of her new friend. One hand laid on top of her sidearm as she watched the proceedings, Denslayer did not trust anyone in this building... Other then Merkava, that is. Saving her friend earned her trust.
Merkava took a deep breath. “Right... right. Just...” He couldn’t turn to look in Motormaster’s direction. “No now... Not yet. I’m sorry ma’am but that’s the best I can give.” A part of him felt ashamed for this action but it couldn’t help itself. He had already destroyed a large part of his life. He did not have the strength to destroy the rest, not yet.
Motormaster paused in response, before nodding. “Alright. Believe it or not, I can understand.” She simply answered, before turning to leave. She just felt tired... relieved that her sparkling was alive and angry at what Starscream had done to them both. But mostly tired.
Merkava just muttered in Tim’s direction. “Do I have quarters?” He too was exhausted from the days events. Tim nodded and started to show him the way, even as the anger embyred for a moment in Merkava’s spark. There was a lingering thought that kept repeating itself inside of Merkava.

~Starscream... I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill that feather duster when I see him next. Do it over and over again if I have to.~