TITLE: Explosive Combination
based on events in and sister fic to Amalgamation
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis
SUMMARY: Wheeljack... meet Anthony Edward Stark, genius inventor and engineer. Everyone else, duck!



The arrival of Wheeljack at the Arctic base had been unplanned. The non-stop military flight from Norway had been diverted because of bad weather. Really bad weather. The storm had come in fast and hard, making the landing a very difficult one. The pilots of the massive carrier plane had touched down a lot harder than normally and its frame had bucked and shaken all the way down -- even while rolling quickly for the hangar. As huge as the machine was, as much as it could carry, as sturdy as it had been built by the military and Stark Industries, Mother Nature was still superior in many regards.

Freshly arrived on this planet, Wheeljack was still in his Cybertronian form and he stood out like a sore thumb among the core crew of Cybertronians assigned to Arctic. Like all protoforms, the base structure of the Cybertronians, he had a subdued metal gray coloring with darker areas and a general outline of what might be his true face later on. He had no visible mouth, just a guard surrounding his lower face, and the bright blue optics were watching everything curiously. He was about as tall as Ratchet, slender, his fingers almost spidery.

Prowl had welcomed their new-arrival with mixed feelings.

Wheeljack had a reputation that preceded him. As Prime’s tactical officer Prowl had had the misfortune to run into Wheeljack or his ‘inventions’ before on Cybertron. While the mech was a genius, he was also somewhat of his own worst enemy. Something of a crackpot inventor, a good half of his creations blew up in his face – if he was lucky. He had been simultaneously one of the Autobots' greatest assets and problems; for every successful gadget he had built, there had been one which had required a medic to put him – and an engineer to put his lab -- back together. But once in a while he had struck gold, which had won him respect from even the Decepticons; respect which had translated in assigned hits on the scientist.

Luckily Wheeljack wasn’t a complete science geek and could defend himself with speed, agility and very inventive firepower. Prowl knew that one of Ironhide’s massive canons had been Wheeljack’s design. The weapons expert had been delighted and very enthusiastic about it. That it had never blown up had been nothing short of a miracle.

Medical checks at Arctic were done as quickly as was possible and while Wheeljack needed energon and maybe a few repairs, the scientist wasn’t about to keel over. He did look a little patched up, but it was his own repair work and Wheeljack was a pro at that. He had learned early on not to bother a medic with small injuries. Ratchet had once griped that he would need to either assign one of his medics full-time or keep a berth reserved for Wheeljack and a stand-by first aid officer at the ready. Wheeljack had only ever come in for the worst injuries – those he either couldn’t reach or didn’t have the knowledge to repair.

The debriefing was done as a teleconference, though with the storm they sometimes lost the signal, and Wheeljack was given a briefing on the situation on the new world. There were a lot of surprises and he took them in stride. He looked actually very, very interested in it all, which was alarming by itself, and he had asked a lot of questions that had Prowl groan at the implications.

What worried the tactical officer the most was the presence of Tony Stark. Iron Man had come in an hour after Wheeljack’s ride had landed, in the middle of the storm that had thrown him almost into the side of the hangar or across the tarmac, and he had made nothing of it. Normal day for a visit.

Of course Stark was interested in meeting the ‘new guy’.

Of course Wheeljack was fascinated by the hybrid technology, the Ark’s new role, the whole new Dynasty of Primes.

Of course they had hoped that this meeting wouldn’t happen for a good long time to come.

Of course it had happened now.

Watching the human in the full body armor and the Cybertronian mad scientist talking animatedly had Prowl’s circuits tingle, and not in a good way. All inner alarms were ringing and part of him irrationally wished for Rodimus Prime to be here, too. He, at least, had some control over the human Prime. Even if that was tenuous at best most of the time.

Wheeljack’s optics flared with excitement and he sketched something onto the ground, which had Tony nod in affirmation. The human’s eyes were alight with the same excitement and that didn’t bode well.

x x x x x x x x

That they went over to the lab ten minutes later had Prowl groan to himself. He expected explosions by the end of the day; the very least a complete power failure within the next two days, followed by strange glitches all over the base.

What he got was Tony turning the main lab into a holographic 3-D center that was then occupied by the virtual image of starship engines and shuttle shields, as well as whatever else Wheeljack was interested in. When the projector started to scroll complicated formulas and create graphs and simulations, Prowl knew there was no stopping what had so accidentally begun.

At least nothing had blown up.

Yet.

x x x x x x x x

Wheeljack was flown to Nevada two days later, when the storm had passed. All the time Prowl had been on the edge because Stark had been there for those two days, as stuck in the storm as everyone. He had handled his business transactions from here, had held tele-conference calls, and he had spent an unhealthy amount of time with Wheeljack.

There was a slight rumbling from the labs and Prowl really put his foot down when Wheeljack asked to have a look at a dismantled Ghost engine for real, not just as a projection. The moment the scientist was cleared for the Ghosts he could touch it; for now holo projections were all he was allowed to manipulate.

Prowl had to wince when one of those models met an untimely death. Tony had simply shrugged and said something along the lines of ‘Better luck next time’ and ‘Getting there’.

What really had Prowl push for the first transfer out of Arctic was the fact that Wheeljack became very very interested in space bridge technology and sub space pockets. Stark’s Extremis-connected ability to use sub space made him Wheeljack’s primary interest, and since Tony loved working with the ancient technology, things were getting tricky.

Prowl felt his spark ease when the two were finally gone.

“Good luck,” he told Rodimus Prime when he had him on the comm. line.

“Thanks. I bet we need it. How bad were they?”

Prowl thought about it, then answered, “The base is still structurally intact.”

“But..?” came the knowing prod.

“We might need some time to calm down Dr. Berkley.”

Callister Berkley was a part-timer at Arctic, studying the effect of prolonged solar exposure of Cybertronian shielding, namely the Ark’s main shield. He had lively conversations with Scavenger and Mixmaster via comm. sometimes. Since Wheeljack had been highly interested in the doctor’s work, he had spent some time with Berkley.

It had ended with a melt-down of the model in the lab and a very irate Berkley telling Wheeljack to stay away from his work. In his defense, Wheeljack hadn’t actually done anything; he had simply watched Berkley work and pointed out a few logical errors, which had then led to the meltdown. Of course, the explosion that had spread a clear liquid all over the lab had been caused by Wheeljack testing its endurance under fire.

It hadn’t endured.

It had liberally coated every wall, making the lab fire proof up to 1800 degrees Celsius in the end, proofing that this method of application was the most efficient. It was only too bad that it wasn’t a viable application form and that a lab didn’t need fire proofing of every single pencil…

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Things did happen after that as well.

For instance the one time Hook accidentally entered the Yuma lab section, more specifically the main lab, just before a loud ‘bang’ had Scrapper asking what had happened. The Constructicon leader met a sniggering Long Haul outside the lab. Scavenger looked like he was about to burst into laughter.

Then Hook pushed everyone aside, stalking away.

Scrapper stared.

Then briefly checked his sensors.

And stared again.

“Hook?”

“Not. A. Word.”

Scrapper said nothing, heeded the warning, and simply went into the lab. Wheeljack was there, looking like a blue-freckled mad scientist, holding one of his gadgets. Mixmaster appeared to have suffered the same splatter force trauma Hook had, but he looked a lot more amused. Actually, he looked very pleased.

Still, like Hook, blue was not his color.

“What happened?” Scrapper asked.

“Wheeljack,” was all Mixmaster said, then turned to the read-out screen, checking their experiments data collection.

“Uh,” Wheeljack said, putting down the doo-hickey. “We were simply trying out the combination of Mixmaster’s currently very efficient paint-job for the Ark with my modifications…”

Scrapper held up a hand. He had heard enough. Just the word ‘modification’ was enough.

Wheeljack brushed over his blue-speckled chest plate, smearing the drops.

Scrapper sighed. “Clean it up,” he simply ordered. “And think of a good apology to Hook.”

His friend had been covered in blue from head to toe. He had been right in the middle of the explosion.

Wheeljack nodded and started to piece together what had once probably been the container of the new paint. Mixmaster saved the data and then proceeded to help his fellow scientist. Scrapper left, a feeling of foreboding running through his system. Mixmaster was easily drawn into experiment and while the mad alchemist was a matter of the past – his past as a drone – he still loved to throw things together and see what happened. That combined with Wheeljack… he really needed better security for the lab section.

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The mix of Tony with Wheeljack was even more explosive, mainly because Tony dabbled more in the realm of machinery and computer programs. He liked to build things. Wheeljack did, too. He had successfully worked on sub space and was highly involved in space bridge trials. Wheeljack had immediately latched on to that.

It had been Jarvis who had put his virtual foot down and refused to have anything they worked on inside the Malibu workshop.

“I value my existence, sir,” had been his level announcement. “Please refrain from blowing yourself up around me.”

“You’re all heart, Jarvis.”

“I aim to serve.”

So when the first of Wheeljack’s inventions met a violently sparking end it had been in a defunct hangar of Stark Industries. It had left a dark burn on the ground and Wheeljack looking a bit singed.

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The overhead fluorescent lights flickered once, twice, then there was a snapping shriek of an electrical discharge and the lights popped out and died. The communications console gave a squelch of static, then fell silent as well. The computer screens winked out, the whole system crashing.

"Damnit!" A string of unprintable curses followed the exclamation.

Perceptor looked around in the total darkness and counted. His blue optics were the only source of light anywhere. When he reached 'five', the back-ups sputtered into life. The scientist refrained from hitting the small work station in front of him with his fists and simply gave a heart-felt sigh.

"What happened?" a disembodied voice asked.

"Power disruption," he answered without even looking around for the speaker and tried to access the power controls.

“Wheeljack’s addition?” Long Haul asked, sounding resigned.

“Yes, indeed.”

The massive Constructicon walked over to the reviving screens and checked the Ark’s status. While the power failure had only affected a tiny part of the station, it never hurt to check everything.

“The rate he’s going, Prime won’t sanction the installation of his enhanced solar collectors.”

Perceptor smiled a fine smile. “I severely doubt it. But he has had success already.”

“Until things burned out?”

“Yes. All good scientists have to work with failure.”

Long Haul rumbled. “If he starts blowing up the Ark’s system because of something minor like this, what happens when Prime allows the installation of space bridge transmitters?”

Perceptor shook his head. “Space bridge technology is highly dangerous and the Primes already banned it from manned installation. I still remember Hook’s week-long rant when he couldn’t continue his small-scale trials.”

The massive Constructicon chuckled, a deep rumble escaping his heavily armored frame. “Yeah. That.”

x x x x x x x x

It showed Wheeljack’s persistence and genius, combined with the Constructicons’ own genius when it came to designing and building, that the solar array went flawlessly online twenty-four hours later.

x x x x x x x x

It showed his mad scientist edge that he still worked on the space bridge models, blowing them up, blowing them apart, having them collapse into themselves, and generally wrecking every simulation he ran.

Nothing threw him off. He grew more persistent.

And when he finally managed to appease Hook and involved him in his trials, Scrapper and Prowl shared concerned expressions without even knowing about it.

Life was definitely getting interesting now.

x x x x x x x x

Six months after Wheeljack had arrived on Earth, the Nevada base had a new addition. Not a mech. At least none sparked by the Allspark. It was an artificial intelligence base loosely on Jarvis, the AI Tony Stark had created all those years ago. While Tony guarded Jarvis’ blueprints and programs possessively, he had allowed for Wheeljack to at least attempt a copy of the AI.

Jarvis had called himself flattered. Tony wasn’t so sure.

“You could call it a progeny,” the AI said while Tony went over the base code.

“I can call it a lot of things and I already have, but it’s not a progeny. You can’t reproduce, Jarvis.”

“I beg to differ, sir. Any copy of mine is an offspring.”

“Offspring implies you and some other AI doing the nasty, and out of the zeros and ones comes a cute little floppy disc.” Tony grinned at the image.

“Floppy discs are outdated.”

“Details.” He waved the argument away. “What I’m saying is that the new program is far less sophisticated and has a lot more of Cyberrtronian tech than you could ever have.”

“You very well know that the Cybertronians built artificial intelligence programs long before humanity was close to sentient, or life existed on Earth at all. Wheeljack’s creation will be superior in all aspects.”

“You have a supergenius kid then,” Stark teased. “But technology aside, the AI will be a baby when it comes online. It has to learn and it will, like you did.”

“I fail to understand your reasons not to involve my base programming, sir. You trust the Primes. They wouldn’t betray you. You are a Prime,” Jarvis reminded him.

“Yeah. And as such I’m putting my foot down on my personal stuff.”

Jarvis was silent for a long time. Tony typed away at the specialized keyboard, his own construction, and watched the codes change as he made adjustments.

“You consider me ‘personal stuff’, sir?” the AI suddenly drew him out of his thoughts.

“I consider you personal, Jarvis. Your programming is my concern; mine alone. No one messes with it.” There was a hard, final edge in Tony’s voice. “I don’t care if you and Roddy get chummy and exchange recipes, but your core programming, your base code, and everything else that makes you you is mine.”

“I am… charmed, sir,” Jarvis replied, sounding a bit baffled.

Maybe not baffled. Maybe it was something else. There was a hint of pleasure in the normally so very British voice that had Tony smile secretly.

“I would also like to assure you that Rodimus Prime has never or would ever snoop around my inner programming or steal data files.”

“I know.”

“You implied you didn’t.”

“Then you heard wrong. I didn’t imply anything. I trust Roddy.” Which was a bit of a shock to hear out loud. But he did trust his baby-sitter/bodyguard/fellow Prime, and aside from Rhodey, Pepper and Jarvis, not many could say that about themselves when it came to Tony Stark.

“Very well, sir.”

Tony was still typing away, changing base code lines and adding suggestions for Wheeljack to take into account.

“Shall I remind you of lunch and dinner times, sir?” Jarvis suddenly chimed.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Whatever floats your boat, Jarvis.”

“Very well.”

And then the AI was silent, turning completely to his task of proof-reading Tony’s equations, running simulations and keeping track of the general area around the mansion high up on Point Dume.

When Rodimus Prime arrived late that night, looking streaked with mud and water, Tony drew himself out of his Extremis connection to Jarvis’s main core where he had been running simultaneous calculations

He blinked at the silver convertible R8.

“Look what the cat dragged in, Ma.”

“You’re no looker either,” Rodimus replied as he transformed, shedding mud and water that ran in streams off his silver armor. He glanced at the mess of food wrappers, empty coffee mugs and drinking glasses with a greenish sludge residue in them. “At least you… ate…”

“Don’t you go criticizing me again,” Stark replied, yawning. “I’m doing you a favor correcting Wheeljack’s ideas into something less traumatizingly dangerous.”

“That coming from you is… alarming.”

Tony grimaced. “I don’t blow up the lab or any other parts of the house on a regular basis, Roddy. You should know, as my roomie, past and part-time present. Wheeljack on the other hand has a penchant for getting overly excited and then he wants to try something out before it’s been through the proper round of simulations. You can’t accuse me of that.”

“I never would,” was the serious reply. “I know you fool-proof your inventions and gadgets. You only play with your own life too loosely for my liking.”

“Aw, shucks, you care.”

Rodimus, kneeling on the ground, regarded him solemnly. “Of course.”

Tony met the blue optics, then suddenly turned away and switched off the holo-projection with a wave of his hand. “Anything on the agenda, other than keeping your looney-bin from blowing up Nevada base?”

Rodimus chuckled. “I’d say sleep on your part, but knowing you as I do, I won’t.”

“But you said it,” Tony whined. He stood up from the chair, stretching. His spine cracked ominously. “Tell you what. You, me, burger joint. Followed by a really good coffee with all amenities they can provide. Then we talk sleep.”

Rodimus gave an electronic sigh. Tony and coffee equaled no sleep. But he would enjoy their night driving. Even though the rain was slashing down outside, making the roads slick and treacherous. At least for any ordinary car. Rodimus Prime was far from ordinary.

“Clean up,” he said.

Tony swiped at a few stains on his gray shirt, then shrugged, pulled the shirt over his head and padded over to where he kept spares. He chose a black one to go with the washed-out jeans. The arc reactor that sat in the middle of his chest disappeared underneath the dark fabric. Only a faint glow remained.

“Satisfied?” Tony asked as he pulled a custom made leather jacket over the outfit.

“Very.” Rodimus transformed and opened a door. “Hop in.”

“Don’t wait up, Jarvis,” Tony called.

“I won’t, sir,” Jarvis replied haughtily.

As the R8 left via the ramp, the lights turned down. Only a few stray beams highlighted the computer consoles.

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The Tactical Artificial Intelligence went online three weeks later. Wheeljack was as proud as if he had sparked it himself and while everyone, including Optimus Prime, was wary at first, the launch went without a hitch.

Tony was linked into the AI via Extremis, keeping watch as programs ran for the first time as a unit, as the new intelligence awoke and began to follow the codes embedded in its core. Like a curious child the AI turned to his point of contact, but he gently directed it back to its task of booting completely.

He smiled a little, the process remniscient of Jarvis’s first baby steps into this world. Back then he hadn’t had Extremis and he hadn’t felt the whole process, but Jarvis had been his creation and he had been proud like a father would be. Now he was witnessing the birth of an alien AI that was far more advanced than anything humans had ever created, but still not even close to what a Cybertronian spark felt like.

Tony pulled back as the new AI stretched and booted all its programs, shutting down the connections. He nodded at Wheeljack, who was overseeing the process.

“Feels good,” he said.

Wheeljack nodded back. “Purrs like a kitten,” he used a human saying.

::And nothing’s exploding:: Roddy commented through the link.

::Ah, wait for it…:: Tony teased.

::Ow, don’t jinx it!::

He chuckled and walked over to where the young Prime was leaning casually against the wall, watching.

::No, this one is safe.::

::Don’t mind me not taking your word for it, Stark::

::Up yours, Roddy::

They watched in amiable silence as Wheeljack oversaw the initiation of the AI into the Autobot base mainframe, then Tony left the room, satisfied. He knew there was little he could still do. This wasn’t Jarvis. This wasn’t his creation. Wheeljack had the responsibility and he had been the back-up.

“Any plans?” Rodimus asked casually.

“Not really, no.”

The other Prime gave Stark a dubious look.

“None I made myself,” Tony told him.

“Where do you have to be and when?”

Tony mentally checked his calendar and shrugged. “San Diego, three hours.”

Rodimus transformed and opened the driver side door. “Hop in. I think I could do with some wheel stretching. What’s the occasion?”

“Business dinner with one of those eco groups Stark Industries is sponsoring. The new Marine World Eco park and stuff.”

He got inside and Rodimus drove past the main hangar doors and out into the desert, heading for the road.

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fin for this one. I'm off to a week in Ireland now :)