- Motto: "So I just write something here and it shows up on my posts?"
- Weapon: Rapid-Fire Sonic Shell Cannons
There he lay, unmoving, but very much alive. His face was frozen in a look of horror and pain, but no physical pain was endured. He was in a ghostly memory, trapped in his own mind like a prison.
Wheelie was where he wanted to be, sitting on his bed in Cleff's arms, being rocked back and forth to a delightful tune sung by the very skilled Cleff. She was much taller than him, but that was normal because Cleff was nearly triple his age. Her pink and sky-blue colors were bright, vibrant and somewhat distracting, but Wheelie couldn't help but to feel completely relaxed in her arms.
"We'll run, run, run about and see what we can see.
We'll do whatever we can do, happy as can be..." Cleff sang softly, rocking him in her arms.
"Cleff?" Wheelie asked, hating himself for interrupting her.
"Yes, Wheelie?" she replied with a gentle smile.
"Why do some of those words sound the same?" he asked.
"What, my rhyming?" Cleff said with a giggle.
Not understanding whatsoever, Wheelie's head tilted to the left.
"Here, I'll teach you..." with that, Cleff and Wheelie faded away, leaving a second Wheelie in blackness.
He had forgotten. This was when Wheelie had learned how to rhyme. Wheelie had always taken his rhyming ability for granted, how he had read all of his datapads and understood what they meant... But this was something... Else, for a lack of a better word. But something else was bothering the young protoform; why was he shown this? Was there some hidden meaning to all of this?
Suddenly, he was tossed about again, and this time, he found himself in the streets of Cybertron.
Holding Cell X34
A sharp pain awoke the unconscious detective. Nightbeat cried out and looked to the left to find the source of his discomfort. The source of the pain revealed itself; a chuckling Vehicon had just kicked him in his side.
"Rise and shine, Autobot." the Vehicon spat as he walked away, snarling.
"Ehh, go and scrap yourself." Nightbeat grumbled back at him.
Rubbing his head, Nightbeat sat up from his awkward lying position, slid weakly to the wall and leaned upon it, resting his servos. Hearing a familiar hum beneath him, Nighbeat immediately deduced that he was on a starship. Sniffing the air, Nightbeat then deduced that the ship he was on was not an Insecticon starship, which was, in Nightbeat's opinon, a good thing considering the probable bitter relations with them.