TITLE: Progress
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

The mechanics of it were rather simple – if you understood basic Ancient technology and the idea behind the subspace pockets. Sam did and he knew how to locate them by now; he just couldn’t work with the pocket as such. It usually resulted in a violent rejection of the object he wanted to store there.

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“Oh shit!”

The exclamation was followed by a loud bang and something falling to the ground just as loudly, and then silence.

A soft warble and beeping penetrated the silence and Dummy rolled over to where Tony Stark lay on the floor plating of his underground lab and garage, blinking at the ceiling that was far, far above. The robot beeped and warbled again, the single arm moving jerkily, as if unsure whether to assist or wait. In the end Dummy waited.

“Tony?”

“Huh?”

A face appeared above him, hovering in his line of view. Stark blinked again.

“Tony?” the face demanded.

“Cool,” he only murmured.

“Concussion?”

The question wasn’t directed at him, but he knew the answer anyway. He was just stunned. It had happened before, but never because he hadn’t done something. Mostly because he had.

“Sam?”

Strong hands grabbed him and helped pull him up. A mechanical arm was gently pushing against his back to keep him from falling back.

“Are you okay?” Sam Witwicky demanded.

“Sure. Had worse.”

Tony looked around his lab and found it was mostly in one piece. Something had been catapulted clear across the garage and landed haphazardly close to one of his sports cars. It looked like a spare piece of armor.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, drawing his attention away from the wayward piece of armor.

“Hey, no sweat. Should have expected something to happen.”

Not his armor, he now realized. It was yellow and black. Sam’s.

Right! The subspace experiment.

Failed.

Getting to his feet, Tony swayed only a little. He had been in the wrong place when things had gone haywire. Well, actually he had been in a safe place, an apparently safe place, and still the backlash had caught him off guard.

“Looks like we can kick the idea of subspace and technopathy,” Sam sighed.

“Maybe.”

It hadn’t been their first attempt and Tony didn’t plan on it being the last one. If he could access subspace through Extremis, Sam should be able to do the same because of his technopathy – if he found the correct trigger connection for the hybrid mind. Stark had altered himself and the Allspark influence had done the rest. Sam was a Prime through the Allspark, too. He had access to the armor Tony had created for him. The next step should be the subspace pocket access.

“I’m not ready to give up just yet. You?” he challenged.

Sam shrugged and walked over to where the piece of armor had landed. He picked it up and carried it back to where the rest was in a rather neat pile.

“Jarvis?” Tony called.

“Yes, sir?”

“Playback.”

The AI dutifully replayed the latest experiment and Tony watched events with a close eye.

“It’s like running into a wall,” Sam supplied his side of the experiment. “Again.”

Tony nodded. They had been working on this for a month now. Sam had spent a lot of that time at the lab and going over the idea of subspace, all the theoretical knowledge, all the files Hook, Scavenger and Tony had found or written, and he had worked with the Extremis to find a way to use the connection between it and subspace for himself.

Stark had been slightly uncomfortable to know that the younger man was poking around his own body, but he had felt little to nothing of Sam’s scans. Extremis didn’t misbehave, and neither did Tony’s body. It was so easy for a technopath to do a lot of bad things to Tony, but Sam had sworn every oath he wouldn’t. Tony trusted him very much in that.

A buzz interrupted their work and Tony’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Meeting,” Sam stated.

“Boredom,” Stark muttered. “Utter killer boredom.” He straightened. “I know this is just a way for the board to torture me. John simply enjoys it.”

Sam grinned. John Keller, former Secretary of Defense, was now Stark Industries’ chairman, and as such he took great care in inviting their CEO to every meeting and making sure he would attend.

“Better go. Jarvis, Dummy and I can swing it here.”

“And have all the fun.” The industrialist billionaire cleaned his hands on a rag, grumbling to himself.

But he went.


Sam watched his friend go, grinning a little to himself.

::Ms. Potts is already waiting for him:: Jarvis informed Sam, using the technopathic uplink he had created for their working sessions. It was faster than spoken words.

::Do you want to continue, Dr. Witwicky?::

::No. I want to go over the schematics first, Jarvis::

::Very well::

Sam stretched out his senses, touching the armor’s systems, finding no damage. While he had blown it clear apart in his attempt to push the armor into subspace, nothing had been harmed. Sam could feel subspace connections, to a degree. At least when Tony activated his own he felt a slight tingle, but he couldn’t for the life of it push anything into any available pocket.

The mechanics of it were rather simple – if you understood basic Ancient technology and the idea behind the subspace pockets. Sam did and he knew how to locate them by now; he just couldn’t work with the pocket as such. It usually resulted in a violent rejection of the object he wanted to store there.

Something caught his attention and he smiled secretly. He had noticed the presence in his month at the lab again and again. Sam had had prior encounters with the AI in the past years and Jarvis had been only slightly off kilter when he had first talked to him through technopathy. In the past weeks, though, he had noticed something else.

More awareness.

Jarvis learned and he evolved. Tony had once told him that he had never expected his creation to become what he was today. He had never in his wildest creams expected a program to be so very… human. Hot Rod’s presence had added to that learning curve. Very steeply, too.

Sam had taken note of the connections formed in the AI and he had seen something new. Jarvis was connecting more and more to the Iron Man armor. Not Tony’s main one, but the spare. It was the one he had created before the red and golden one. It was pure silver, uplinked into the system all the time, and usually rested in a containment unit underneath the floor plating. Tony had only ever once taken it out of storage, when he had created the suits for Mike Bowman and later Sam.

Jarvis suddenly retreated and Sam stopped in his work, his attention fully on the AI.

::Jarvis?:: he sent.

::Yes, Dr. Witwicky?::

::You know I’m very much aware of things electronic around me::

::Of course:: came the slightly haughty reply, as if the British inflected voice wanted to tell him that of course he was, stupid.

::Then you know I noticed that just now::

Silence greeted him. ::I was running a system check:: Jarvis finally said after two long seconds.

::Sure::

Another two seconds of silence.

::How much of yourself have you incorporated into the spare?:: Sam finally asked.

::I do not understand::

Sam closed his eyes and let more of himself slide onto the level of conversation. It was as if he was suddenly looking at Jarvis without really seeing him. Jarvis was a presence, a very powerful one, an individual with likes and dislikes, with emotions, with opinions. Tony had set the AI up like this, to learn, to develop into its own person, and out had come Jarvis.

::Jarvis, please. Don’t lie::

There was an uncomfortable shift. ::I never intended to::

::You want to be mobile?:: Sam prodded.

Another shift. ::In a way. It’s an emergency service:: the AI added quickly. ::In case something happens to Mr. Stark. Hot Rod is no longer around::

::Yeah. And Tony has a penchant for getting into trouble – without even looking for it::

Jarvis hummed with amusement.

Sam thought of Stark’s adventures into aerial combat training. Of all training partners he could have chosen, he had walked up to Blades and asked the former Protectobot to train with him. Blades was an unstable mind at the best of times. His hatred of everything Decepticon ran deep and it had been the reason why he had been asked to remain in Australia. Of course he could have taken up Ark duty, but he had the same distrust problem with the Constructicons. So Tony had taken up to spending a day or two a month in Australia, getting aerial training by Blades, who was only too happy to help out.

None of the Cybertronian Primes had been happy, but at least Blades respected human life and wouldn’t seriously injure his ‘trainee’. Still, Blades was a loose canon and best kept away from anything even remotely looking like a Decepticon. Barricade had growled that he would give the Protectobot something to chew on if he really wanted a confrontation, but Optimus had put his foot down and Blades was rather happy at the Australian base.

::How much of you is already downloaded into the suit?::

::Right now? Nothing. I prefer to keep it for emergencies only:: was the careful reply.

::Let me rephrase it: how much can you download?::

::My complete core unit, as well as most of the peripherals::

Sam gave a soft whistle. ::You reconstructed it?::

::I used Cybertronian technology::

Not hybrid then. And that meant…

::Rodimus::

Jarvis winced a little and Sam brushed over him in a calming manner. The AI was a complex being and not as simply constructed as, say, the base computer at Nevada. While it might be possible to create an AI, Optimus had yet to actually give the go-ahead for that plan. Sam understood the reluctance. It would be a security risk, though an AI as ‘old’ as Jarvis would be better suited.

::Tony will find out one day:: the technopath simply said.

::I am very much aware of that, Dr. Witwicky::

::And he might not be amused::

::He won’t::

Sam shrugged.

His stomach rumbling interrupted the conversation and he looked around the lab for something to eat, but found only stale chips and empty wrappers.

“Do you wish for lunch?” Jarvis inquired politely.

“What’s up for offer?”

“Anything you want.”

“Don’t tell me Tony has every available food on speed-dial?”

“He has.”

“Figures. Anything in the fridge?” Sam wanted to know, already heading for the stairs.

“Plenty.”

Sam saw that for himself when he opened the massive fridge that could easily house a small car. He took out the ingredients for a sandwich and made himself a quick mixed meats sandwich, grabbed a large cola, and pushed the fridge shut with a foot and a hip.

The TV came on as he sat down on the sprawling couch, taking care not to spill anything. While Tony would never know – Jarvis was very effective in keeping the house clean – Sam had been taught better.

The TV was running the news and Sam watched it for a while, then switched to a documentary about deserts – ice and sand, and the contrasts between the life forms. It was how Tony found him two hours later, still watching TV, engrossed in a movie Jarvis had nicked off a satellite feed. It had just about hit the theaters.

“Corrupting my AI, I see,” Stark remarked as he plopped down with a beer in hand.

“I think you did that before I ever talked to Jarvis.”

It got him a smirk.

“Oh, this is the good part!” Tony crowed as the hero of the hour started to go up against Mr. Evil.

::Mr. Stark saw the movie last week:: Jarvis informed Sam.

::Before the official release date?::

It got him a smug smile. Well, it would be a smile had Jarvis had human features. As it was, Sam knew very well how to tell emotions apart when it came to mechanical life forms.

He glanced at Tony, who simply grinned.

“Jarvis, you tattle-tale,” he simply called amiably.

“I didn’t say a word, sir.”

“Technopathy counts, too.”

“Very well.”

“You really are a bad influence, Sam.”

“No more than you were already, or Rodimus was after that.”

“Too true. I think Roddy really corrupted him.” Tony put his feet up on the couch table, dislodging a stack of engineering magazines.

“They’re currently discussing putting an AI into the base computer at Nevada,” Sam remarked.

“Which is stupid. Not even Jarvis could handle what’s needed of an artificial creation,” Tony immediately said. “If they had some spare sparks waiting for a body, sure. Why not? But to run this base you need one hell of an intellect.”

Sam pondered that. Even the Ark had no AI or a mech logged into the system 24/7. Right now it was a simple computer program; simple in mech terms. To Sam it felt like a semi-sentient being.

“Up for another round?” Tony interrupted his thoughts, effectively cutting off any discussion about the matter.

Sam shrugged. Sure, why not?

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Another two weeks later Sam wasn’t really much further in his attempts to access subspace. He had gotten better in handling the suit because of the work. He knew every bolt and every screw, he was aware of every chip and connection, felt the programs running in the background, and he had gotten the hang of flying with it. It had been a feature he had been reluctant to try out, but flying was comparatively easy to sending matter into a subspace pocket.

“It has something to do with Extremis,” Sam repeated over coffee, him and Tony sharing leftover cake from when Pepper had come down to berate Stark over missing his set-up appointments – and bringing strawberry sponge cake.

“Extremis plus Allspark meddling,” Tony mused, nursing his coffee. “But how? Why me and not you? The mechs should be able to access subspace, too! None of them can. At least none on this planet, and files on possible candidates are non-existent.”

Sam shrugged. “Why am I technopathic and Will looks like someone wrote the Allspark code all over him? No idea.”

“If the old Cybertronians could use subspace they had something the new ones don’t,” Tony insisted. “Something in their make-up is different or they can’t activate systems needed to work subspace connections.”

“You know what Hook said: they tried and lost people. I think the danger was just too great.”

Stark snorted and refilled his cup. “Hook is working with the space bridge technology again and wants to build a working one himself. Danger my ass. They can do it, all of them, I’m sure of it. All we need to find is the trigger or the access.”

“But with you it’s Extremis, so I can’t work with subspace either. And there is no technopathic connection to a pocket in subspace.”

Tony grinned. “Not yet. You just have to find it.”

Sam grimaced. “I’ve been here for weeks, Tony.”

“Getting lonely?” the other man teased.

“No. And that’s not the point.”

Tony smirked more.

Sam ignored him, feeling Jarvis’ amusement along the edges of his technopathic perception. He poked the AI a little and Jarvis almost chuckled.

“You can work on the whole thing at the base, too,” Tony interrupted his thoughts. “Or at Yuma. I think Hook and Scavenger are most prepared to deal with whatever you trigger. And you should keep trying.”

“Oh, I will, I just can’t see any progress. Even with the technopathy I had more success in the first few weeks than with that. I think I’ll ask Will to look into possible files in the old archives of the Ark. He went through the registry once and told me it’s so immense, we could spend years just reading the chapter titles.”

“And search programs don’t work because of the crazy mix of file dates,” Tony nodded, aware just how complicated the archiving system was. So much had been thrown together, sometimes not mixing at all, and finding one particular entry was almost impossible.

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He still stayed another two weeks, despite the fact that Stark wasn’t there for most of the time. He had business to attend to and a personal assistant who saw to it that he did. Pepper was the worst drill sergeant if she wanted to be.

In those two weeks Sam got to know Jarvis better than in all the time he had been here before. It was amazing what he saw and felt as he once slipped deep into the AI, looking at Tony’s creation in a way no one ever had before. Stark might be able to link up to Jarvis via Extremis, but he couldn’t see him as a technopath could.

Rodimus’ imprints and influence were clear.

Tony’s as well.

And together with what Jarvis had become before and without them, it made him something amazing.

Sam knew that one day Jarvis would be more than just an AI, running Stark’s home, assisting him as Iron Man, and being a companion when the billionaire was alone.

For now he would keep that secret.

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When it happened for the first time Sam was caught completely off guard. His concentration was suddenly shot and Bumblebee was just fast enough to duck. A piece of leg armor shot past the Autobot scout and bounced off the training room’s wall.

Sam stared.

Bumblebee gave a whistle of surprise.

Sam blinked. “Wow…” he stuttered. “That was… what the heck happened?”

The answer was: he had no idea. He had trained, he had suddenly found something like a remote access point and then… wham!

“Want to try again?” Bumblebee asked.

Of course he did. The problem was: he had no idea what he had done and how to copy the effect. None at all.

It remained the one and only moment in his months of training that he had actually touched a subspace pocket.

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The second time it happened Sam had retreated to the airfield outside the base. It was a rather cool day and there was no danger of hitting anyone with anything should he actually manage the uplink again.

He did.

For a second.

And the armor disappeared and reappeared in that second, flung across the sandy ground.

A rumble of amusement had him glare at the shock-trooper who had been watching him.

“Not a word!” he grumbled.

“Apparently you can do it. It’s a matter of control,” Barricade commented, the inflection clear.

“Screw you, too.”

It got him one of those nasty grins.

But Sam still felt the connection and with a lot more care he reached out and – the armor disappeared.

He stared at where it had just been.

It didn’t reappear.

Barricade gave an appreciative hum.

“Uh, okay,” the technopath stammered. “Now what?”

It had been a rhetorical question.

“Reverse the process,” Barricade simply told him.

“Right.” How?

Searching around Sam easily discovered the access point again and like using a mouse he clicked it open.

And he actually saw the armor!

Sam stared, unable to tear his eyes, his mental eyes, away from the sight. Like on a rack the armor hung before him, fully assembled, just without anyone inside. The subspace pocket as such was… small. Like a corner of his old room at home. Not much space to squeeze anything but the armor inside, but still… it was a place.

The room suddenly snapped shut and Sam reeled back, blinking to clear his sight. He landed hard on his butt and was momentarily dizzy from the effect. Like turning around his own axis too fast and too often.

“Wow, headrush,” he murmured.

Barricade regarded him with a tilt to his head, but he said nothing. Still, Sam had the distinct impression that something was clicking together in the former Decepticon’s mind that he wasn’t telling him.

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The third time it happened was also the time Sam finally caught on. He and Bumblebee had flown to Australia together with Tony. Tony’s intention was aerial training with Blades; Sam wanted to work on subspace access. Bumblebee had promised to stay out of whatever happened, unless Sam either called for help or was in real and not perceived danger.

Watching Tony with Blades was like witnessing a semi-deadly dance. Blades was fast, agile, and really good at what he did. And Tony had learned a lot from him. He had to compensate size for firepower and agility, and that was what Blades had taught him.

Sam was fascinated, watching the two fighters.

Finally he pulled away from the screen and concentrated on his own training. Out here in the desert, with only a few dingos and kangaroos watching, with the occasional camel in the distance, he had enough room in case something went wrong.

Nothing went wrong.

Actually, for the first time, it worked.

Smoothly. Perfectly. Suspiciously… great.

Sam blinked behind the protective visor, slightly overwhelmed by the ease with which the armor had left subspace and formed fluidly around his body.

::Sam?::

He turned to look at where Bumblebee was parked.

::Uh… it worked::

::Yes, it did.::

And it had felt weird. Like he had reached subspace via some kind of bridge or because of a catalyst. For a fraction of a second he had felt something else, then the armor had been there.

“Well, well, well,” Tony’s voice interrupted his musings. “You finally worked it out, kid!”

Blades touched down with ease beside where Iron Man was already standing. Blue optics regarded the armored technopath curiously.

“Would you believe me if I said I have no idea?” Sam said breathlessly.

“Yep. Wouldn’t dare to argue.” Tony flipped open the visor, his slightly sweaty face holding a wide grin. “Hit and miss, trial and error. If you can recreate the whole thing, we’re getting somewhere.”

“I have no clue.”

He reached for the trigger again and again it worked like a charm.

But how? And who was supplying the catalyst?

Sam turned to look at Bumblebee, who held up both hands. “I didn’t do anything. And you didn’t log onto me.”

“And I have no idea what that would be,” Blades added, making it sound like he thought it was something very dirty that he didn’t want to touch with a very long stick.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “This is going to be hard.”

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It finally clicked home when he was at Yuma a week later. He was going over the whole subspace pocket problem with Hook. The architect asked him for a demonstration.

Sam demonstrated.

And for the first time he identified the trigger.

Clad in the black and yellow armor he stared at the tall Constructicon.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “It’s you!”

Hook tilted his head and gazed at him, not understanding. “I am what, Sam?”

“You are the trigger!”

“I can’t be. I wasn’t with you throughout previous attempts.”

“No, not you as an individual. You as a Cybertronian! Something inside you! The first time it must have been Bumblebee. The second time Barricade. Blades and Bumblebee were both there when it happened the third time. Each and every attempt without one of you ended with no success!”

Hook seemed to frown. His optics blazed briefly, then he abruptly turned and typed a few commands into the base computer.

“I knew it!” he muttered to himself. “I knew it!”

Drawn over by the fast typing Hook and Sam clad in his protective armor, Scavenger shot the technopath a curious look.

Sam shrugged. “Figured out how to access subspace pockets,” he remarked almost casually. “Apparently it’s something in mechs.”

“Inside? Which ones specifically?” Scavenger wanted to know.

“So far, there’s no difference between the three who I unconsciously used.”

“I knew it!” Hook exclaimed. “I always knew we still had the rudimentaries!”

“Rudimentary what, Hook?” Scavenger asked patiently.

“All of us, whatever generation and designation, have the same basic protoform structure. Our programming aside, affiliations and factions and specialties… we’re all made of the same basic skeleton structure. So like the ancient mechs we should be able to copy what they were able to do. I know they had access to subspace and we forgot how to!”

“And I access that trigger and use it?”

“Exactly! There has to be a way to use what you can do to determine just what it is that gives all of us this ability.”

Scavenger studied Sam, then Hook. “Even if we all have the rudimentary build for it, who knows who can still use it? Humans have developed differently as well and not all can go back to the basic form of existence.”

Hook waved him off. “It needs to be studied.”

“Uhm, Hook, I can’t stay around forever.”

The Constructicon looked unhappy.

“We could scan ourselves while you call and remove the armor,” Scavenger made an offering. “Hook can work with that data.”

The other Constructicon looked even less enthusiastic about it, but he agreed to it in the end.


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So after three days of calling and sending back his armor under Hook’s careful surveillance, surrounded by tons of equipment and always using a different Constructicon as a catalyst, Sam was finally allowed to return to Nevada. Strangely enough he hadn’t suffered from a single headache or, worse, a migraine, nor had he had any sweets cravings.

“Maybe because I link into subspace because of you,” he mused, looking at Bumblebee’s dash. “I’m not doing this on my own.”

The Autobot scout had no answer for the complex problem. Sam had briefly felt like a parasite, but he wasn’t taking anything from his ‘hosts’. He needed them to bridge a gap.

None of the ‘test subjects’ had felt him connect either. All the Constructicons had posed as triggers/catalysts, and all had enabled Sam to call the armor. Bumblebee was a given. He had been Sam’s assistant before. His unknowing assistant. Jolt had volunteered and it had worked just as well. The Autobot had been fascinated, but like all before him he had felt nothing.

Hook would have liked to test either of the two mech Primes, but Scrapper had told him to work with what he had. When he had evaluated all data, more could be added. Hook had been grumpy for the rest of the day, but when Sam had seen him discuss his findings with Perceptor, he knew the scientist had already forgotten the reprimand.

“If we could find a way to access subspace,” Bumblebee said, “it would help greatly.”

“Depends on how big the subspace pockets are. So far they accommodate to what you put in there. Since my armor is small, so is the pocket. And trying to stow more in there… well, you know the results.”

Bumblebee chuckled. Yes, he did. It had been rather ugly. “Ironhide would be happy to make it into an arsenal.”

“He sure would. But unless Hook finds a way to make it possible, you’re not any better off for now.”

“I never had it. How can I miss it?” was the philosophical reply.

Sam grinned. “Good point.”

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Tony found that the subspace pocket wouldn’t hold anything that wasn’t attached to his armor. Every weapon or tool was immediately taken in, but additions were chugged out. Tony couldn’t explain it and neither could Jarvis find anything in his calculations and scans.

Stark kept track of Sam’s progress and was surprised when he heard just how the younger man was able to access subspace. Hook was still looking into the matter, but while everyone he had scanned seemed to be able to act as a catalyst or bridge or whatever, the mech in question couldn’t use subspace himself.

Looking into his empty coffee mug, Tony sighed and walked over to the massive coffee machine. It was state of the art, the best of the best, churned out the best coffee money could buy, and it was self-cleaning. Pepper made sure the coffee bean supply never ran empty, and Jarvis tried to monitor his intake. He failed on getting Tony to stop drinking so much, mainly because Tony argued that Extremis now took care of overdoses.

Tony refilled the mug, then went over to where a large array of screens showed various designs or the status of whatever model he was putting through the grinder. He one-handedly typed in a few commands, then watched the data scroll over the screen.

“Jarvis?” he asked, leaning back, mug still in one hand.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

The AI had no face, no eyes Tony could look into, but he looked up at the ceiling as if.

“After all the hard work and countless hours, don’t you think it might be time to take it to the next level?”

“Pardon me, sir, but I don’t understand,” was the polite reply.

Tony smirked and typed in another command. A new display popped up, showing how much energy and water was used throughout the house. The garage, naturally, used up the most since it housed the AI and the Iron Man armor. A good part had been diverted to something Tony wasn’t meddling with or experimenting on.

“Care to elaborate, Jarvis?” Tony prodded.

“It seems the lower levels are pulling more power than normal.”

“Oh really?”

“I’ll look into it, sir. I’m very sorry it didn’t occur to me before.”

“Jarvis, can it, okay? I know what you’re doing and all I’m saying is: show me.”

Silence permeated the room.

“Sir.”

The floor opened and a rack rose to the surface, holding what looked like the Mark-II armor, but with a few differences. It was a darker silver where Iron Man’s color was golden, and black where the other armor was red. The fingers ended in clawed tips, there was no arc reactor light, and the armament appeared thicker.

Tony got up, leaving the mug on the table, and walked over to the armor. It didn’t look like just a suit, it looked solid. It was solid. He touched it, felt the smooth paint job, just like his own, and had to smile.

“I’d say this is more than just tinkering around, wouldn’t you say?”

“I apologize, sir.”

“Reason?”

“I believed it to be a good contingency plan.”

Tony raised his eye-brows.

“You are a bit accident prone from time to time, sir. And with the departure of Hot Rod we believed you might require assistance I cannot provide.”

Tony blinked. For a moment he was truly speechless.

“I’m touched,” he finally said.

He actually meant it.

“I haven’t been able to coordinate the armor just yet,” Jarvis added apologetically.

“You haven’t taken the baby-steps yet?” Stark teased, grinning.

“No, sir.”

“Well, no time like the present.”

Tony activated Extremis with barely a thought and called the armor. Within a second Iron Man stood next to the silver and black armor. He held out a hand and bowed a little, the blue glow of the eye slits almost mocking.

“May I?”

The armor’s eyes lit up as well, a bright white color. One arm rose and the fingers flexed, then the rack released the armor with a soft hiss. It stood on its own, still running diagnostics, various armor plates opening and closing, joints moving as if testing their flexibility.

Iron Man watched, not making a move.

Finally Jarvis walked. It was Jarvis, Tony told himself. The AI had downloaded into the armor, able to interact on a more physical level now, and while the movements were a little jerky, Jarvis was learning fast. Tony itched to take a look at the armor’s insides. Jarvis, well, most likely Hot Rod, had redesigned everything. He wondered how much was Cybertronian technology. And could Jarvis transform? Tony had to wait for those answers, but he would get them.

::Well, Roddy, your plan worked:: he sent through Extremis. He made sure the priority mail would be on top of Rodimus Prime’s incoming messages. ::But your secrecy sucks. Did you really think Jarvis could keep this from me?::

On the other hand, had they planned it as a secret?

“Ready to fly?” Iron Man asked, humor in his voice.

“After you, sir.”

He ignited the boots and hovered in the air, making it look so easy. Jarvis followed suit, copying the move.

“Follow me,” Iron Man challenged and shot off.

And the silver armored followed.

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At the Autobot base Rodimus Prime opened his email and chuckled. He knew he couldn’t really keep this from Tony forever, but at least Jarvis had been able to finish the basic model.

::Good luck:: he sent a coded message to Jarvis.

The AI would need it.


fin for this one