- Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
- Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Bluestreak’s intention when he invited Red Alert down to the mess hall was to have drinks with an old comrade, chit chat a little (mostly on Blue’s part) and just sit back and relax. That’s what the Autobot gunner had expected to happen, but what he got, instead, was a level of paranoia that rivaled his own ability to talk non-stop. At first, the security director had appeared calm and not worried about anything in particular. Then, suddenly, an about face had happened and Red Alert turned very serious, demanding to know what Wheeljack had been doing up on Cybertron during the recent mission. The anxious mech followed that up with a warning that if he didn’t like the gunner’s answer, he’d make Blue drink his own poison to see if it would kill him. At that point, Bluestreak had heard enough.
“Seriously, Red? You really think I brought you down here to poison you?!” The black and silver mech’s tone had gone from his usual friendly self to someone who felt angry and insulted at the mere insinuation of such a betrayal. “Give me that!” Bluestreak grabbed the glass out of Red Alert’s hand and drank it down in one gulp. He then slammed it down on the table and stared his paranoid friend right in the optics. “See, Red? Nothing happened. I’m fine just like you would’ve been had you drank it. I brought you down here as a way for us to relax after the long journey from Cybertron. You know, to unwind your circuits since you tend to be just a little bit tense at times. I certainly didn’t bring you here to kill you if that’s what you thought!”
Bluestreak shook his cranium and turned away from Red Alert, placing both hands onto his waist. ‘Streak took a deep intake of air into his systems and let it out before turning back to look at the security director. “As for what Wheeljack was doing up there on Cybertron, I can only tell you what I know since the time I first arrived there. Remember I wasn’t a part of the mission from the very beginning. I got there by long-range shuttle later on when reinforcements were called in. When I joined the team, ‘Jack was helping to get Autobot Headquarters in Iacon back up and running. I don’t know all the details because I had my own duties to perform. Namely, I was helping Springer fix our automated defensive guns around the perimeter. I do know that Wheeljack eventually accompanied Rodimus and a few others to meet with Shockwave. The cyclops had requested safe passage into our territory in order to gather data of some kind in order to help restore Cybertron. After that, we were all called back here when Prime went missing. I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”
The Autobot gunner stopped talking for a moment, a rarity for him. His circuits had finally begun to calm down after losing his cool for a brief time, also a rarity for him. Bluestreak hadn’t felt such anger since the last time he’d seen a Decepticon on the battlefield. It was unusual for him to feel this way when around his own kind, but being accused of betraying his friend and comrade was like being accused of joining the Decepticons. It was something 'Streak couldn’t just let go without a strong response.
“Look, Red, you should know me better than that. After everything the ‘Cons have done to me, I’m the last mech who would betray you or any Autobot for that matter,” Bluestreak finally continued when his normal level of calm had returned. “I don’t know what you think is going on around here, but I think your paranoia is getting the better of you again. I’m not trying to be mean or condescending, I’m just trying to make you see how ridiculous it is to think that your own comrades are out to get you. Wheeljack and I are your friends. You’ve known us for thousands of vorns. We’ve fought beside one another on the battlefield. We’re here to support you not hurt you! Besides, if there’s any mech around here you should be suspicious of it’s Howlstrike. He’s a former Predacon for Primus’ sake! At least being paranoid about him I could understand, but not myself or ‘Jack. You really need to get a grip and relax. That’s why I brought you down here to begin with.”
“Now, if you don’t like my answer, then I’m sorry, Red. I’m afraid it’s the only one I’ve got,” Bluestreak added as he crossed his arms over his chestplate to see if anything he had said was sinking in to his paranoid friend’s circuits. He hoped all this crazy talk would stop as he couldn’t take much more of Red Alert’s paranoid delusions. Although, somehow he doubted it would end any more than his own penchant for non-stop chatter.
Wheeljack could see that Tracer was afraid to tell him the truth, at first saying that she couldn’t. Whatever was in the vile he was holding was the whole reason she and Smokescreen had travelled to the surface to begin with and it eventually led to the diversion expert ending up in such a precarious state. Then, finally, the clearly upset and troubled femme told him what it was - Syk. She was an addict and needed her next fix from Oil Slick, her dealer. Apparently, Smokescreen had found out about her situation and tried to help her. It didn’t surprise ‘Jack one bit that Smokey was attempting to help a friend in need. He was certainly as loyal a friend as one could have, and his deceitful nature had enabled him to easily break the rules in order to get Tracer what she needed.
Of course, things had gone very wrong and Smokescreen paid the ultimate price at the hands of Oil Slick. The Decepticon chemist was known for extremely volatile concoctions, so the extensive damage the rallybot had sustained made complete sense now. Tracer was very lucky to have escaped unscathed. Unfortunately, Smokey’s body was unrepairable. The mechanical engineer could see that without having to conduct another scan. Some parts could be salvaged, but overall it was a total loss.
Wheeljack placed the vile of Syk onto a nearby bench and then approached Tracer. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” the scientist said as he placed a reassuring hand on the femme’s shoulder plate. “I figured it was something very important, otherwise Smokescreen wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to get you down there. As for saving him, I can’t save his body, but I can save his spark. After that, I’ll need to build him a whole new body. But, first thing’s first.”
The scientist removed his hand from her shoulder and then accessed a nearby storage locker where he pulled out a spark extractor of his own design along with a small metallic receptacle. Afterwards, Wheeljack quickly returned to Smokescreen’s side and placed the instrument and container down on the table beside him. ‘Jack leaned forward to examine the diversion expert’s chest area more closely. The acid had long since dried up, but the damage had been done. Nothing but a gaping hole was left behind, but it at least left a clear path straight to his spark chamber.
As Wheeljack picked up the extractor, a response from Red Alert came in over his comm line, giving thanks for informing him about the bounce. However, with that thanks also came an inquiry on the status of the cyber-rat trap. The mechanical engineer let out a deep sigh as he currently had more important things to worry about than traps.
>>”Sorry, Red, I was having trouble repairing the damned thing and decided to move on to something else. I’ll try to fix it again later.”<<
With that distraction out of the way, Wheeljack refocused on the task at hand. He quickly attached the container to the back of the spark extractor, before lifting the device up and maneuvering it over top of Smokescreen’s chest, front side facing down. The mad scientist then carefully lowered it into the rallybot’s innards until it had automatically latched on to the stasis-locked mech’s sealed spark chamber. Without delay, Wheeljack activated the exactor, and it immediately hummed to life with a warm glow. However, that gentle hum was quickly replaced with a much louder, harsher sound of scraping metal as the device forced the diversion specialist’s spark chamber open. The instrument then literally sucked the very life force out of Smokey’s chest and deposited it into the attached vessel.
Once the procedure was done, Wheeljack deactivated the extractor and disconnected the small container that now held Smokescreen’s still pulsating spark, which could be seen though a small window on the side. After placing the extractor down, the mechanical engineer walked back over to where Tracer was standing and handed her the sealed receptacle. “Here, do me a favor and keep Smokey’s spark safe. Since he was willing to give it up in order to protect you, I think it’s fitting that you now protect it until I can get a new body built for him. Agreed?”