He had a mission.
Recoil wasn’t supposed to talk about said mission, but rules be damned. He was not the sort for covert operations. If they wanted a spy, they should have asked for a spy. But they’d wanted an older mech with attitude and that was what they got.
“I’m supposed to watch out for you,” Recoil said bluntly. He stared up at the pale green mech who was to be his partner and planted his hands on his hips. “Apparently, you’ve got the sparklings worried.”
A smoking cy-gar moved from one side of Kup’s mouth to the other. “Is that so?” He laughed, a static-laced rasp that echoed his age, not that Recoil was fooled.
They were both old. Practically ancient. But they’d forgotten more about battle than these uppity sparklings and their equally young Prime had ever learned.
“Who’s yer contact?” Kup asked.
Recoil winked. “Springer.”
“Hah. Should’ve known. Mech can’t stop worryin’ no matter how hard he tries.” Kup barked a laugh and puffed out another curl of smoke. “And what’re you watching me for?”
“I guess they think you’re going to keel over one day and no one’ll be around to drag your rusty aft to the medcenters,” Recoil offered. He popped an orbital ridge. His empty connector rustled, reminding him that he had a link to make.
Not yet. Recoil had a mission. But he wasn’t going to go through with it if Kup didn’t agree. Springer might have been… insistent, but he wasn’t a Targetmaster. He didn’t know what it meant to link. Recoil wasn’t about to be attached to a mech who didn’t want him.
“Hah.” Kup snorted and peered at him, sharp optics assessing Recoil from top to bottom. “And what do ya turn into?”
Recoil smirked. “I’m a Targetmaster. What do you think?”
Kup unfolded his arms and produced his blaster. “Better than this?”
“Of course.” Recoil didn’t bother to keep the pride out of his vocals. He and Kup, at least, had something in common. Age and experience was worth a lot. He knew his value.
“Hmm.” Kup twirled the blaster – a musket laser really – with expert motions. “And what do ya think about all this?”
“I think that it’s time we showed these younglings a thing or two.” Recoil lifted his chin and fluffed his plating. “If I have to be bonded to anyone, I want it to be you.”
Kup smirked. “Two old bots, taking on the war together?”
“If you agree.”
Kup spun the musket again and then tossed it aside, planting his hands on his hips. “Sure,” he said. “Why not? At least if I give in and let the sparklings think they’re watching out fer me, I could have worse partners.”
Recoil winked. “Yeah,” he said. “They could have offered you, Peacemaker.”