The Energon Pub

Bridge

Despite all that had been going on, Hoist was in good spirits as always. He entered the bridge, datapad in hand, ready to give his report. For the past cycle or two he had taken it upon himself to run diagnostics and maintanence on the Guardian's systems and engines. As it turned out he had nothing to worry about. Looking around the bridge he saw a few other Autobots, but their current commander Prowl was not among them.

"Hm, that's odd.", the tow truck said to himself, "There must something important going on. It's not like Prowl to leave the bridge without a good reason."

With no one else directly above him in the chain of command, Hoist went up to Ironfist.

"Good cycle to you, Ironfist.", Hoist addressed the weaponry engineer in his usual jovial manner, "I've been running maintanence on the ship and I was about to report to Prowl, who seems to be elsewhere. Though I guess it's not really necessary since there are no problems whatsoever, but you then, you know how Prowl can be, ha ha. I must say, despite not having a dedicated engineer, the Protectobots take excellent care of the Guardian."

Mess Hall

Prowl ignored Sunstreaker’s unhappy glare as the golden warrior walked by him and exited the mess hall. The black and white mech didn’t have to wait long before Kup, Grimlock and the rest of the Dinobots entered soon afterward. The old timer immediately greeted the military strategist with a firm handshake and offered the usual pleasantries before getting down to business.

“It’s good to see you again, as well, Kup,” Prowl replied as he then listened to the aged Autobot’s comments regarding his uncertainly on how they would ultimately choose a new leader as it hadn’t been necessary to do so in countless vorns. The last part of Kup’s statement especially caught the interim leader’s attention. However, before he could respond, Grimlock had spoken up to include his own opinion on the matter. The Dinobot Commander had a good point. Infighting was something the Decepticons were more known for, and it was to be avoided within the Autobot ranks at all costs.

“I agree, arguing and bickering amongst ourselves will get us nowhere,” Prowl replied, nodding in Grimlock’s direction before returning his optics back at Kup. “Unfortunately, picking the right leader will not necessarily be a quick or easy decision. There are many....” The military strategist was interrupted by the sound of Hot Rod’s vocal processor, drawing his attention away from the discussion at hand. The cavalier had apparently invited himself to the proceedings and felt that the meeting could now officially begin since he had arrived. Prowl found the flame-covered mech’s arrogance to be irritating but not entirely unexpected.

“The meeting has already begun, Hot Rod,” Prowl replied, looking over at the approaching red Autobot. “Of course, had I known you were coming, too, I would’ve waited. In fact, we should probably inform the entire frigate of our meeting just in case anyone else wants to join in on the conversation.” The black and white was clearly aggravated, but his irritability began to subside as he allowed his optics to scan Hot Rod’s entire frame from top to bottom. To the analyst's surprise, there had been some noticeable changes and improvements, giving the cavalier increased bulk and height. He almost seemed to be a more mature version of his prior self, at least in his physicality anyway. Whether or not that apparent maturity had also crossed over into Hot Rod’s personality was yet to be proven.

A still agitated Prowl moved away from Kup and approached the flamed mech. “I see that you are different, Hot Rod. Did you receive an upgrade of some kind while on Cybertron? If so, was there an actual strategic or medical reason for this upgrade or did you just decide to waste precious resources in order to impress Arcee?”

*********

Snarl followed Grimlock into the mess hall and moved towards the energon dispensers with Swoop and Sludge when his commander motioned for them to do so. The Desert Warrior wasted no time in grabbing a glass container and filling it with the synthetic substance. As he lifted it to his mouth piece and began to drink, Snarl quickly choked on the disgusting brew and immediately spat it out all over the dispenser where the faux energon had just come from. “Is it me or has taste of this stuff got worse?”

Throwing his glass to the ground where it shattered into a dozen pieces, Snarl decided that he’d rather go thirsty for the time being. Besides, there were more important things to consider here. Finding a seat at a table that was close to where Grimlock and Kup stood alongside Prowl, the Desert Warrior sat down and made it a point to listen in on everything that was being discussed. Unfortunately, not much was said before Rodimus entered the room and attempted to insert himself into the conversation. Prowl appeared to be less than pleased with the fiery mech’s presence and quickly questioned him on his new appearance.

Snarl chuckled under his vocalizer as he couldn’t wait to see the black and white’s reaction to Hot Rod’s explanation. “This should be good,” the Desert Warrior muttered as he glanced over at the other Dinobots before returning his attention to Prowl and the self-proclaimed Prime.

Bounce Chamber

Just outside of their destination Tracer and the crimson twin watched Sunstreaker march directly into the bounce chamber without so much as a word to either of them. The slightly perturbed femme let out a low sigh before she too headed into the chamber leaving Sideswipe to stare in abject awe at the sight heading away from him. Cracking a wide smile, Sideswipe finally moved to meet with the other members of his team.

Once within the chamber Tracer noticed that another mech, whom she decided must be Annex, was already waiting for her and the twins. Tracer acknowledged Annex’s nod with one of her own, but she offered no smile. The scout then noted that Sunstreaker had taken up a position away from the rest of the group. She tuned to look over her shoulder and just past her door wings as the door slid open once more and Sideswipe stepped in with that crooked smirk, she thought. Again she let out a low sigh.

Her attention moved from the red warrior back to the green and silver Annex when he addressed the entire group. Tracer took a quick glance from Sunstreaker to Sideswipe and then back to Annex.

“Let’s. The sooner we get there the sooner we can stop the Stunticons. I take it the coordinates were already sent to the terminal?”

Tracer moved onto the bounce platform while Sideswipe stepped past Annex, clipping the Ranger’s shoulder slightly as he did so. He quickly took up a spot next to the attractive femme and motioned for his brother to step up. He then cast his gaze on Tracer as he gave his own reply to her question.

“Of course they are. The Prowler’s efficient like that, sweet….er…..”

The scout stared at the warrior, the anger welling up causing her optics to brighten as he attempted to call her by the hated nickname he had given her. When he stopped and offered her an apologetic shrug, Tracer shook her head slightly.

“Tracer. My name is Tracer. Try to remember that, of the next time I won’t just double you over with a punch to the gut….”

She narrowed her optics and leaned in ever so slightly when she added,

“…I’ll use my knee on a more sensitive locale.”

Sideswipe took half a step away from the beautiful femme and nodded in agreement. When Tracer had returned her attention to Annex, Sideswipe glanced over at Sunstreaker with a broad smile plastered on his face and gave his moody brother thumbs up.

Mess Hall

He could feel panic set in as he watched his friends and loved ones address the one holding him hostage. Hot Rod was desperate them to hear him, to listed to him, but so far none of them could. He could see and feel everything, but he was not in control of his body or his own mind. When Prowl addressed him Hot Rod, once again tried to get the tactician’s attention.

Prowl! It’s me, Hot Rod! Please, for Primus sake listen to me!

The cavalier quieted down suddenly when images of his friends filled his vision. Twisted limbs, torn from their bodies and pooling energon covering the ground. The silent screams of the dead echoed in his audios as he witnessed long time companions being torn to shreds by an unknown force.

From within his confines, Hot Rod let loose a mournful cry. The sight continued to play out until finally they ceased leaving Hot Rod curled up in a tight ball.

Please, no. Please.

The sound of sadistic laughing was the only response to the young mech’s pleas.

Take heed, the vision will come to pass. You have no control over what has already been set into motion. Stay your pleading and bear witness to the future of your kind.

Hot Rod’s entire being retreated into the shadow of his mind leaving the creature inhabiting his body to its own ministrations.

Rodimus paid no mind to Prowl’s curt response to his arrival to the meeting. Instead he focused on correcting the black and white in order to move on with the subject at hand. The self-proclaimed Prime was at a loss when the tactician asked for his reasons on upgrading his form.

The flame emblazoned mech tilted his head slightly at the question. It seemed as though everyone believed he was not who he said he was. Rodimus shook his head slightly before offering Prowl a very small smile.

“I apologize, Prowl, but my explanation for the upgrades will sound slightly unconventional.”

Rodimus drew in a deep intake before moving further into the meeting area. His one wish was for everyone to believe, not only that he was chosen, but also that he was now a Prime.

“I had an experience while on Cybertron. I had been sent to root out any remaining vermin that might have taken up residence within the ventilation system. I must have hit my head, but somehow I fell unconscious. I remember coming to with a distinct memory of hearing Optimus Prime’s voice. When he spoke it was with regret and great sadness. He told me that there had been an explosion and that he was no longer with us.”

Rodimus grew quiet. He lowered his gaze to the floor remembering what had transpired during his time in the ventilation shaft. When he continued with his rendition his voice was low, somber.

“After Optimus told me what had occurred here on Earth he told me that the Matrix chose me. It had chosen me as his successor. I left the ventilation shaft soon after that and noticed that I had trouble getting out. It was then I noticed that I had somehow, changed.”

The mech that once was Hot Rod turned his gaze on Prowl as he let out a heavy sigh.

“I am here, Prowl, to take my place as Prime. To finish what Optimus Prime started and end this war for our people.”

Bridge

Ironfist offered the briefest of salutes as Prowl left the bridge to perform the unenviable duties of the defacto Supreme Commander. As soon as the doors closed to the turbo lift, the weapon engineer made his way over to one of the local quartermaster consoles. He drew schematics of the Ark type vessels as well as various other sub features that had been incorporated into the over all design of the all purpose vessel.

Downloading the schematics into a palm pad, and assigning over two dozen drones to begin the transfer of materials from the Guardian to the 19, Ironfist shut off the console's quartermaster feature. He plugged into the communications array and proceeded to patch into the grid.

"Ironfist to Ark-22 Commander. I am currently on board Frigate Guardian. Dispatching current scans and damage reports of the 19 to your mainframe. We require the activation of the 22's main manufacture plant to begin construction on several key specialized components. Modified to specific terms that I have already notated within the schematics I am including with the data burst. Triple encryption key, Axalon."

He paused briefly as he cleared his vocorder.

"Also, if you happen to have a few technically inclined mechanisms on board, I would not be adverse to their assistance."

He left the channel open as he awaited a response. His attention was immediately snared by the approach of one of the most useful mechanisms. "It is good to see you as well Hoist. I would have to say that I have may have had a hand or so in keeping the Guardian up to snuff from time to time." He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head. He needed a good laugh right about now, given the workload he had literally inherited with the revival of the Ark 19.

"Actually, you are exactly the Autobot I was looking for," he changed the subject almost immediately. "I need your help over on the 19. She's pretty beat up and we need to get her sea worthy. That is if you're up for it, and got your tool belt ready."

Bridge

Hoist gave a knowing nod to Ironfist as he was apprised of the situation. He could certainly understand the strain of suddenly being given a large workload with little or no help, yet the weapons expert had managed quite well.

"Well you most certainly should be commended for such an excellent job, Ironfist.", Hoist complimented, "Now let me see for a moment..."

Hoist looked back down at the datapad in his hand, taping the screen several times to call up the Autobot's mainenance schedule. Even with the various mechs coming and going, he still managed to keep a fairly extensive and accurate record of all the Autobot's mechanical needs and requirements. After a few astroseconds he looked back up to Ironfist.

"Good news, I don't have any scheduled appointments for at least a mega-cycle." Hoist gladly informed.

"I'll be more than happy to help fix up the old girl, just don't be too upset when you see my bill. Ha ha ha!", Hoist laughed as he playfully slapped Ironfist's shoulder.

Mess Hall

Prowl’s optics widened as he listened to the sheer absurdity of Hot Rod’s explanation regarding his new upgraded appearance. The military strategist took a quick glance over at Kup before returning his optics to the flame-covered mech before him. The whole story sounded ludicrous, especially coming from the cavalier whose history for being reckless and immature clearly proved that he was not to be taken seriously regardless of his assertions. If anything, this tale of a disembodied Optimus proved only that Hot Rod needed his cranial unit thoroughly examined.

Once the self-proclaimed Prime had finished, Prowl stood silently for a moment, considering how he would respond to all this. And here I thought Hex was the craziest mech on board,, he thought, trying not to smirk. However, one likely escaped his lips anyway, but it mattered not. This situation needed to be dealt with so that more important matters, such as determining a real leader, could be addressed.

“Well, that’s certainly an interesting story, Hot Rod,” Prowl began to say, keeping his optics locked on the former cavalier. “Do you have any actual proof to back up your version of events? I mean, surely you don’t expect me to just take your word for it that a dead Optimus spoke to you in some kind of dream state and made you the new Prime? You should know me better than that by now. I deal with hard, tangible facts, not wild stories and mysticism. Yes, your body has undergone some kind of upgrade, but that doesn’t automatically make you a Prime, Hot Rod, regardless of what you’re claiming.”

A confused Prowl stepped away from the fiery Autobot and regarded Kup with a look of severe bewilderment. His logic center was having a difficult time computing Hot Rod’s account of his updated appearance. Furthermore, if the black and white didn’t get some kind of rational explanation soon, his circuits would likely scramble to the point of total cerebral shutdown. “Kup, what the frag is going on with him? What really happened up there on Cybertron? Has he been thoroughly examined to see if his processor is still functioning properly? None of this makes any damned logical sense to me at all!”

*********

Snarl sat in his chair and watched as the military strategist became slightly unhinged by Hot Rod’s crazy assertion that he was the new Prime. His story was certainly a wild one, but it was nothing the Desert Warrior hadn’t already heard before. Although, one point had changed that made the plated Dinobot sit up and take notice. At first, he had almost missed the slight alteration in Hot Rod’s story, and it was one that Prowl would not have caught considering the black and white mech hadn’t been present in Iacon the first time it was told.

Leaning forward, Snarl tapped his sword on the floor loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Hot Rodimus, you said back on Cybertron that Matrix talked to you and made you Prime. But, now you say it was Optimus. Me may not be smartest mech in room, but me not stupid, either.” The Desert Warrior then stood from his seat and looked across to the self-proclaimed Prime. “So, which version is truth?”

(OoC- Sorry, this is my first time RPGing, so I need a little support.)

Mess Hall

Tracks strolled into the mess hall, a jaunty "spring in his step" as the humans said. Nothing like a good stasis nap to brighten up a day. Tracks started Prowl, hoping to find something to do. A bot like him needed to have flavor in his life, not the same old same old.

"Excuse me, Prowl. Do you mind if I join the conversation, or do you have some other task I can perform?"

Bridge - Received: Message from Ratchet

>>”Guardian, this is Ratchet. I’m sending you the coordinates the Iranian team will be located at for a bounce pick up. DO NOT initiate until I contact you again. Out.”<<

Mess Hall

Rodimus watched, and listened, as Prowl addressed the self-proclaimed Autobot Prime. Hot Rod kept quiet; as much as he wished to be heard by his friends and comrades he also did not want to endanger them. Before Rodimus even spoke he slowly made his way across the room to stand next to his long time mentor. His demeanor was imploring as stepped in front of Kup. He trusted and respected Kup, and he knew that the older mech trusted him.

Rodimus gave his friend the most sincere smile before he gently laid his hand down on his shoulder. The flame emblazoned ‘Bot gave a slight squeeze before he gazed into Kup’s pale blue optics. With the slightest of nods Rodimus spoke, but he continued to gaze at Kup.

“Kup, you are my oldest friend. You’ve mentored me and many more before me. You’ve seen more and have been through things I could never even imagine. You must know that it was possible for me to have been contacted by Optimus through the Matrix.”

It was at that point Rodimus turned around and looked to Prowl.

“Prowl, I know this all sounds impossible, but how else could I have known about the loss of Optimus before Kup had even announced it?”

He let out a heavy sigh before lowering his optics to the floor in front of him. A momet passed before he finally lifted his head and looked back to the traction.

“I was given this opportunity to continue Optimus Prime’s legacy, and to win this war. Optimus wanted nothing more than to see our people, and people of the worlds that our war was brought to, to finally live in peace. All I want is the chance to do that.”

No. No. No. No. Please. Please don’t do this.

Silence young one. It will all be over soon.

Bounce Chamber

Tracer let out an annoyed, heavy sigh when none of the mechs in the chamber took the lead and got the small team off the ship and on the surface. Instead of waiting any longer, and possibly giving Sideswipe another opportunity to hit on her, Tracer stepped to the terminal and checked the coordinates that had been set. Kansas. A refinery. Just great.

The femme initiated the bounce process and in a flash of blinding light the four Autobots vanished from the platform.

(Move Tracer, Sideswipe, Annex and Sunstreaker to the Kansas thread.)

Mess Hall

Kup kept trying to say something but Hot Rod and Prowl kept going back and forth. He had hoped to broach the topic of what had happened to the young Autobot with Prowl during their conversation here. He didn’t think that even with having gotten whatever new powers he had that Hot Rod would be bold enough to just march into the meeting and declare that he had been chose by the Matrix and Optimus himself as the new leader.

The elder Autobot was about to but in when Hot Rod turned to address him. As he spoke he could feel his head fogging up. He had been remembering when this had first happened to Hot Rod and what he had said. He didn’t think he mentioned hearing Optimus’s voice, did he? Maybe he had? Yes, he had, he remembered it quite clearly now.

After Hot Rod was done speaking Kup was finally able to add his thoughts. “Listen Prowl, I’ve seen a lot of weird things in my day, been to a lot of places. The lad here did say he heard Optimus talk to him before we knew he had died. Now I don’t know what happened to him, how he grew or what’s going on at all. Whatever is going on there we are going to have to take into consideration. I’m not sure if I’m ready to anoint him the next Prime, but something special did happen there.”

*

Grimlock grunted at Kup’s words, disappointed in the old timer. “Not matter what voice he hear, he still hearing voices from nowhere. Me not following crazy leader. We wasting time listening to him.” The Dinobot leader had displayed some modicum of patience so far in allowing Hot Rod and Prowl to bicker. Some would say the fact that he hadn’t simply smashed the head of two of his current least favorite Autobots showed incredible restraint on his part, especially considering they were discussing leadership of the entire faction. Still, he was Grimlock and his patience was far from infinite.

“Talking do nothing, especially talking with crazy Bot,” Grimlock gestured at Hot Rod. “While we waste time, who know what Decepticons are doing. Even them get organized eventually, figure out new leader and strike. It question of who get organized and strike first. Whichever side do that, have big advantage.”

Grimlock paused for a moment. He suspected everyone expected him to seize command of the Autobots, and he certainly wanted to. He had always felt that he was a better battlefield commander then Optimus Prime was. Optimus just didn’t have that brutal edge needed to win a war. He was good, no question about that. Certainly better then the other bumbling Primes who had preceded him. He just didn’t have that feel, that almost natural predator instinct that Grimlock had, honed in the gladiator fights back on Cybertron.

On the other hand what Optimus did have was charisma. So many Autobots had idolized and adored him. He had become a living legend, pulling the Autobots back from the brink of defeat on Cybertron. He had been the first Prime to really push back against Megatron and his forces. Optimus didn’t just lead the Autobots, he inspired them. While Grimlock was sure he had just as much charisma as Optimus had, he knew that he had a bit of a reputation as a hot head and rule breaker. That might appeal to some Autobots, but definitely not all of them. The fact that he was following directly after Optimus’s death made things even more difficult.

What he needed was time. He needed time to prove himself to the other Autobots, time and opportunity to show them what he could do. The Dinobots would have his back and he could build from that support. Nothing rallied the troops like victories, he just needed the opportunity to generate some.

“Make me military leader,” Grimlock finally said to Prowl and Kup. “We need someone leading in battle, someone strong. Can’t wait to talk it all out. Make me temporary leader so we can hit Decepticons before they ready. At same time you can talk it out, figure out who permanent leader is. Maybe it be me, maybe not. Me just want to hit Decepticons and hit them hard before they ready. Me been out of this war too long, time Cons remember what me can do.” He pounded his right fist into his left palm for emphasis.

Blaster sighed to himself as he listened in on all coms- most notably, on the discussion going on in the other room. He had absolutely no clue what to believe, although he, for once in his life agreed with Grimlock to some extent. Blaster wasn't entirely sure he believed in Hot Rod's story, though he remained silent on said issue.

What a mess he mused to himself. Things had certainly changed since Optimus vanished.

This was put aside when Ratchet chimed in through the Guardian's main comm link. Blaster wasted no time in grabbing the coordinates and preparing the bounce sequence.

>>This is Blaster, I gotcha, Ratch. Just say the word and I'll bounce you all up<<

He cut off the comm as he went back to focusing on the raging battle in Kansas. A few interesting transmissions came up, suggesting the appearance of another Decepticon party. This was quickly confirmed, to Blaster's surprise, as the Combaticons.

Oh jeez... Blaster thought to himself. Scrambling, he opened a comm link with Prowl.

>>Uh, Prowler, two things. You aren't going to like the second. One, Ironhide's team is waiting for a few stragglers before I bounce them back up, and two, the Combaticons have shown up in Kansas.<<

Mess Hall

Realizing that nobot was going to agknowledge him, (and that a few of the dinobots were glaring in his direction) Tracks made a hasty retreat.

Corridor

As he walked down the hall, Tracks thought about the little bit of conversation he had just heard. He scoffed as he remebered Grimlock's blatant implication that he should be leader.

"Please. That imbicile couldn't lead a parade." Tracks whispered to himself. Then he quickly glanced around to make sure Grimlock was not within hearing range. It wasn't likely, but if he was around, well... Tracks shuddered at the thought. The arrival at his destination, thankfully, brought him away from that disturbing train of thought.

Medical Bay

Tracks leaned against the doorframe casually as he said "So, is there anything I can assist in, or should I leave you to your mundane tasks?

Ooc-Sorry I stuck my foot in it with the mess hall thing. I was so excited to start, I just read the latest page. Sorry.

Mess hall

Prowl’s logic circuits had gone into overdrive trying to contemplate everything he had been hearing over the past bream. Hot Rod had received some kind of upgrade back on Cybertron and as a result anointed himself the next Prime, claiming to have communed with a dead Optimus who supposedly said that the Matrix had chosen him. Worse yet, Kup seemed to back up the flamed mech’s assertions by admitting that something special had, in fact, happened to the cavalier. And on top of all that, Grimlock was close to going off half-cocked and taking the fight directly to the Decepticons with or without authorization. It was almost enough to make the military strategist’s cerebral cortex shut down entirely, but he managed to keep it together, if only barely.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Prowl finally responded, having demanded real answers to his questions and not receiving what he had hoped for. He was so intent on understanding the current situation that he hadn’t even noticed the arrival and almost immediate departure again of Tracks, who had unwittingly wandered into the meeting. It was as if the black and white mech was in his own little world where logic had been cast by the wayside. “Kup, I have the utmost respect for you. You have taught and mentored a good majority of us, including myself. That’s why I take your words and opinion into account more than most. However, I can’t just logically hand the mantle of Prime over to a mech that has undergone this kind of change without fully understanding what has happened to him. There's too much at stake here.”

Prowl rubbed his cranial unit, trying to maintain a calm tone and not lose control as he almost did before. The strategist then turned to address Hot Rod again, a stoic look across his face plate. “Look, Hot Rod, your words are all well and good and sound nice, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready to be ‘Rodimus Prime’. I’ve known many mechs over the vorns who could talk the talk but not walk the walk. I also have to agree with Grimlock on this one. I don’t know how you knew that Optimus was gone, but hearing voices from beyond the grave just sounds crazy and makes you less credible in my processor. Besides, we don’t even know for sure if Optimus is really dead as no body has yet been recovered. Furthermore, given your reckless history, you’re going to have to prove yourself a capable leader before I allow you to become the next Prime. Optimus had to earn the mantle once and so will you now. I’m also going to have Ratchet perform a thorough medical analysis on you to make sure you’re not malfunctioning in any way.”

The black and white interim leader then switched his attention to the clearly agitated Grimlock, who appeared to be on the verge of taking his frustrations out on the nearest poor spark that crossed him. Prowl would have to be careful here as to not send the Dinobot Commander on a warpath of unbridled destruction. “I understand your position, Grimlock. You are a capable battlefield and unit commander with a proven track record of getting the tough jobs done. You and your squad have more successes under your belts than most specialty teams I’ve worked with. However, you have also proven to be a bit of a loose cannon, going off on your own without clearance and doing whatever you want when you want. The fact that we found you in stasis lock under human containment demonstrates my point. That being said, I'm not comfortable making you leader. However, I have no problem sending you and your unit out to battle the enemy. I’m sure your special talents will be put to good use very soon.”

Prowl was then interrupted when he received Blaster’s comm from the bridge, informing him that the battle in Iran had reached a close while the Combaticons had arrived on the Kansas front. >>”Understood, Blaster, good work. I’ve already dispatched reinforcements to the surface to help Hot Spot and his team. They should be able to handle the situation. Inform me the moment Ironhide’s group returns as I will want a full debriefing. Prowl out.”<<

The military strategist then turned back to the assembled group of mechs in the room. “Well, it seems the Combaticons are on planet, which means the ‘Cons from Cybertron are likely in system now. I predict a strong probability that there will be a power struggle for control with Starscream. We can use that to our advantage. However, it is important to first resolve the issue of Autobot leadership sooner rather than later. I had already compiled a list of suitable candidates, but with all of the wild assertions being made here it seems almost like an afterthought at this point.”

Prowl was unsure what to do in the current illogical situation he had found himself in. His didn’t want to admit it but his circuits were still a bit scrambled and he found it hard to concentrate on the decision that needed to be made. He had known that it wouldn’t be easy, but he had no idea just how complicated things would become. Regardless of what ultimately happened here, the military strategist would ensure that the Autobot cause continued to move forward and not become hampered by all this nonsense.

“So, I guess we are at an impasse then?” Prowl questioned, throwing a datapad on a nearby table. “Here’s my list of candidates if anyone cares. Personally, I’m inclined to remain in charge for the time being until we come to some kind of consensus. It's not what I want, but the longer we talk the more we risk the Decepticons getting the upper hand on us.”

*********

Snarl stood by and took in all of what was being said between everyone present. The Desert Warrior shared Grimlock’s frustration with all the crazy talk going on and no real action being done. He also didn’t appreciate Kup not recognizing the discrepancies in Hot Rod’s story. It made the plated Dinobot feel and look like an idiot, which only served to generate anger within him. As the rage welled up inside, Snarl turned around and kicked the chair he had just been sitting in across the room. He then turned back around to face the others.

“Me no idiot! Me know what Hot Rod said before!” Snarl growled at Kup, Prowl and Rodimus before turning to the Dinobot Commander. “Grimlock, we waste time here! Prowl not put you in charge. Him too scared. Let’s just go and fight ‘Cons while these real idiots talk!” The Desert Warrior needed to get back into the heat of battle before he took his aggression out on the nearest mech instead of an inanimate object. He was always happiest while he was crushing the enemy underneath his foot and it was the only way he’d be able to calm down in the current situation.

Bridge

Ironfist's face mask stretched slightly as he offered a stout smile. "Good to hear it Hoist." He finally responded as he finished the last adjustments to his tablet before disconnecting it from the main server. He then plugged in a special communications frequency link between himself and the channel he had established with Ark-22. He no longer could afford to wait for a verbal response.

Knowing full well that they would be doing what they could, probably even already knew what needed to be done before he ever sent his dispatch, Ironfist felt confident he could allow things to simmer while he attended to the matters at hand. He stepped off of the dais and down towards the lift that would take him to the main docking hatch where the drones would have begun carrying the vast quantities of supplies necessary to affect repairs to the venerable 19.

"Well then Hoist. I suppose that is our next assignment. I shall see you on board the 19. The power plants and replication systems are our primary targets for repair. Once we get them operational we can really get into the grit of our perfected craft." With that he summoned the lift and the two were on their way.

(OOC: I'm gonna be NPCing First Aid for the foreseeable future)

Medical Bay

First Aid had been taking inventory when he heard the door open. The doctor took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the sleek blue form of racks step in. Before he could greet the warrior, Tracks had inquired if there was anything he could help with.

“Um, sorry Tracks, but I’ve got everything under control here. Maybe…”

First Aid cut off when his internal alarms went off. The alarms coincided with the emergency beacons he had equipped Hot Spot and the other Protectobots with. His spark skipped a beat as he finally broke from his daze. First Aid quickly, but carefully gathered up his tools and some spare energon and looked up. Tracks, damn, I forgot he was here.

“Tracks! I actually can use your help. One of the Protectobots was bounced back on board. He’s injured and I just might need your assistance in getting back here to the med Bay. Grab that gurney and follow me.”

That said, First Aid ran out of the Medical bay and headed on toward the Bounce Chamber.

Bounce Chamber

The door slid open just in time so First Aid would not run directly into an obstacle. Upon entering the chamber the doctor took a quick scan around. He didn’t see anyone, but when he stepped past the control panel he spotted the down mech. However, it wasn’t one of the other Protectobots. First Aid didn’t recognize who is was, so instead of rushing in just in case it was a ‘Con, First Aid moved in slowly.

Once he was close enough the young doctor let out a gasp. The only recognizable part of the mech lying in a heap on the platform was his head. First Aid knelt down next to him and let him hands ghost over the inert form.

“Axle. What in the pit happened to you.”

First Aid’s words escaped his vocalizer in a mere whisper. He had worked with Axle vorns ago on Cybertron while they were both studying under Ratchet. Axle was the first mech to congratulate him when he made it onto the Protectobot team. Axle had stopped his studies when the war broke out, instead wishing to help out in the battle field as a medic.

Carefully, First Aid gripped Axle’s shoulder and turned him over. His chest plate was a mangled mess, causing the doctor to worry that his spark had already been destroyed. Hesitantly he squeezed his fingers into the hole in Axle’s chest. He let out a relived sigh when his servos gently caressed the spark chamber. After pulling his hand out First Aid went to work turning the field medic over onto his stomach.

“Good Primus! How in the world is he even still alive?”

His question was meant for no one in particular. His optics took in the wires, cydrolics, and fuel lines all severed and spewed everywhere. From the back it looked as if the strings of a marionette were torn to shreds. First Aid didn’t know where to begin.

Mess Hall

Since none of the chairs were big enough for him, Sludge simply stood and watched as the other mechs talked, not having anything of importance to say. It was just as well, as the large mech never cared much for meetings or conferences. Though he agreed with Snarl about the bad taste of the energon substitute, he simply shrugged and gulped down his drink. Energy was energy, whether it tasted bad or not.

He payed little attention of what was being said until Grimlock spoke up- the only Autobot Sludge felt was capable of leading the Autobots. Of course he agreed with most of what the Dinobot commander had to say, though he couldn't understand why Grimlock would agree to just be "military leader". Whatever Grimlock's reasons were, Sludge was sure he was right. He was the strongest, after all.

Sludge was quickly moved to anger as he heard Prowl reject Grimlock's plan. That anger was soon motivated by Snarl's sudden outburst, causing Sludge to slam his glass to the floor, shattering it to a thousand pieces.

"Me, Sludge, think strongest should lead!" the large dinobot bellowed, "Grimlock is strongest, Grimlock should lead!"

Sludge then stomped on an empty chair next to him, easily crushing it. A grin grew on Sludge's face as he thought of all the enemies he would do that to.

"Me Sludge want to crush Decepticons! Me Sludge say Grimlock should lead!"

------------------------


Bridge

"That certainly makes sense, Ironfist.", Hoist agreed with the weapons specialist as he stepped onto the lift that would take him to the broken down Ark-19.

"Start with a running engine, then work your way out. That's what I like to say.", the maintenance specialist added.

Med Bay

Tracks waited as First Aid responded to his question. He started to frown as First Aid told him he had everything under control. First Aid seemed a little annoyed by his presence. Perhaps he should...

Suddenly, almost spontaneously, First Aid changed his mind.  Tracks began to grin  as First Aid gave him a task to do.  Maybe Tracks had been wrong about First Aid being annoyed with him. But no time to think about that now.Grabbing the gurney, Tracks began to hurry after First Aid, who was keeping a quick pace toward the Bounce Chamber.

Bounce Chamber

Tracks tried to hide his smile as he entered the Bounce Chamber. He knew First Aid's  need of his assistance meant one of his fellow Autobots was injured, but the prospect of something to do was so gratifying it was hard to keep his grin at bay.

Noticing First Aid's tentativeness, Tracks proceeded with caution. Tip toeing past the control panel, still dragging the gurney behind him, Tracks made his way across the room. As soon as he saw the fallen bot, Tracks stopped dead.

Egad! What on Cybertron happened down there?

Tracks rushed over to First Aid's side, trailing the gurney behind him. The sight of Axle's mangled chest plate made Tracks' energon run cold. The cables split and sparkling, hydraulics snapped, fuel and energon pooling together in a murky puddle  was enough to haunt Tracks' stasis naps for a week. 

Unsure of what to do next, Tracks turned to the kneeling medic. 

"Shall we... place him on the gurney or...?" 

Bounce Chamber

While First Aid gazed at Axle’s mangled form the thoughts and memories of their past flooded his processor. All the times they spoke of what it would be like to work under Ratchet, or where they should meet after testing was completed gave the doctor pause. At the sound of Track’s query, First Aid nearly jumped but he caught himself.

“Tracks. Uh…just give me a moment to check him out a little further.”

The Protectobot quickly went to work stabilizing the field medic and checking his vitals with some of the portable equipment he had brought along. A few breems passed before First Aid looked up at Tracks while cleaning his hands off on a towel. He nodded at the warrior and then turned his attention back down to Axle. He gently turned the medic over onto his back. First Aid picked up the now soaked towel and stared at it for a moment. The sound of movement made him look up.

“Tracks, you can bring the gurney and help me get Axle on it.”

That said First Aid moved to Axle’s head and gently lifted him up by his shoulders. He waited for Tracks to move to his legs and lift. Once they got him on the gurney they could get him back to the med bay where First Aid could get to work on him.

Mess Hall

Rodimus listened to everything Prowl had to say. He was slightly perturbed that the black and white did not take Kup’s word that what Rodimus had said was the truth.

He doesn’t believe you even after you…did whatever it was to Kup! Prowl can see right through you!

Child, there is a purpose for everything and everyone. Your dear Prowl has his.

Rodimus nodded in agreement with Prowl’s suggestion that he be seen by Ratchet. Truth told the medic would find nothing out of the ordinary, after all that is what he will be allowed to find.

“I understand. When the time is right I will take my place as the leader, but only when we are all ready. For now you will make an excellent interim commander. I will also make myself available to Ratchet when he returns from his mission.”

He listened to Snarl who was possibly the most irate of the Dinobots, even Grimlock had been calm considering the situation. Not wanting to exasperate the situation, Rodimus made his way to the exit.

“I believe I will wait for Ratchet in the med bay.”

What do you have planned for them, for Prowl?

You have no reason to fear, child. Everything is progressing as planned. Be patient.

Holographic Chamber: Training Program - Historical File 3154 "Battle of Kab'secta IV"

Nova Strike spun to his left narrowly avoiding the burning lance of the wounded Decepticon shock trooper. He raised his palms and blocked the parry as the trooper brought the three bladed weapon back to finish the gash that had already been carved along his paint job. Reflexively, his fingers curled along the titanium rod and yanked the weapon back towards his right then forced the weapon down towards the ground. As the soldier fell forward, Nova drove his knee straight into the optical visor of the purple vehicle former before releasing the weapon to a clattering chaos upon the broken earth.

Swinging around Nova drove his fist straight into the side of the damaged Decepticon and ignited his wrist torches. Its armor bubbled away as he delivered strike after strike to the torso of the mechanism. Its feeble defenses failing to predict the maneuvers of the experienced special forces operative. Nova Strike delivered a kick to the bubbled warped mess of the Decepticon, shattering the plates on its chest and sending it flailing backwards into...

The hologram chamber flared white as the opponent vaporized under the detonation of a fusion shell. Nova Strike wiped a thin layer of rock and ash from his shoulder as he let his polarized optics slowly relinquish their whitewashed glare. "Computer. End simulation."

The chamber faded to the standard black and yellow grid worked closet located near the habitation deck. "Too damn easy." He spat as he stepped towards the computer terminal that controlled the files and displays within the training facility. The battle of Kab'secta was his first engagement off his Home World of Cybertron. He could remember it as vividly as it were only yesterday, even after all the vorns that had passed since then. The blade toting Decepticon had been defeated, just as he had in the chamber only moments before. But not before it had left Nova Strike a bleeding mess. Since then, he had used that battle as a gauge to test his improvement. Every time they battled, he took less and less damage, eventually got to the point where he was capable of beating the opponent almost without effort. "Should have put up more of a fight." He judged the computer analysis that scrawled across the main monitor.

"There's the problem." He cursed silently before he attempted to add his access code to ignite the program that he had personally requested to be installed into the training protocols. A bright red rejected, scrawled from side to side before going back to the analysis. It then flashed a time clock indicating his reserved time had been depleted and would have to wait until the next rotation. "Computer, who has the next allotment reserved?" A single name rose from the bottom of the monitor as the final pieces of analysis disappeared above. The information was immediately transmitted to the ship's station master and unit officers as well as his personal data pads, as he lived in the bunks with many of the other troopers who worked on board.

Nova studied the name at the bottom of the screen and swore again. It was always the same thing. Stuck on board until missions that required his more unique talents were required. His only real release was when he was within the holographic chambers. Normally he held two time slots, the first he used for combat training and the second typically for relaxation. Unfortunately someone beat him to the punch.

Shutting down the terminal, Nova exited out into the vacant halls of the Guardian. Muted klaxons flashed red along the light strips built deep along the walk ways. A few alerts calling available medics to the bounce chambers pried at his audio receptors. He managed to push them to the side of his concentration. He wasn't a medic, so such alerts or summons did not apply to him.

Personnel Sector

Nova Strike checked in with the computer terminal that was housed on the bulkhead that separated the personnel barracks and the officer quarters. He held no real love loss for those in command above him, primarily for reasons that left him behind during major engagements such as what went down at 19 a few cycles ago. He was a Ranger, a trail breaker or pathfinder, as well as a front line soldier. Not exactly a perfect match for a planet still under infiltration protocols. Still something caused him to look over his shoulder and take notice that one of the chambers that had clearly been left unoccupied, perhaps due to damage received on previous engagements only to be recently repaired by Ironfist or perhaps left empty because of some other motive privy to Hotspot and the other Protectobots.

Offering a brief hunch of curiosity, perhaps even a potential spy in the works, Nova Strike decided to investigate. He covered the distance down the hall and made his way up to the door that had been locked from the inside. Suspicious, the manifest clearly slotted this ship as empty and unassigned. But those would be left for use as storage or open for regular inspection.

A stout investigator would have covertly overrode the lock and summoned security. A clever investigator would have accessed a security panel and brought the internal sensors online to determine who or what was inside the chamber. A smart investigator would have done these things to prevent a spy from hiding the evidence...

Nova Strike hit the door bell.

Docking Ring - Boarding Boon

Ironfist emerged from the lift with a chuckle and a spring as he narrowly avoided colliding with a remote drone towing an anti gravity barge straight onto the conveyor leading to the wounded Ark-19. As the drone disappeared around the bend on the boon, the engineer hefted up several packets of energon rations. He stuffed them into his work satchel and quickly closed the lid.

"Once more into the breach my friend Hoist." He picked up his tool belt and strapped it around his waist. Drawing the spanner from its loop he raised it over his head as if it were a sword. "To deaths dear gaze we restore thee, to Primus's gate we relinquish thee."

He grinned under his face mask. "Lets go Wreck and Rule."

TBC: Ark-19

Personal Quarters – Bumblebee

Since his arrival on board the Guardian, Bumblebee had kept to himself, locked away in the room that he had been graciously assigned. The room remained dark and the door was locked and secured with an encrypted code.

Across the room, in the shadows, was the lone berth. On the berth was the figure of the minibot who was lying on his side facing the wall. He hadn’t recharged since he entered the room, instead he simply stared trying to put out of his mind everything he had gone through. When he did try to recharge the images of the torture chamber and of that…creature that enjoyed every second he had with Bumblebee.

Bumblebee shuddered as he drew his knees up closer to his chest. How was he going to get through this? Is Hex right? Will he never forget what happened? And worse, would he become exactly like the young mech? Offlinig his optics the only sound that finally echoed through the room was a weak whimper.

The sound of the door chime caused the yellow mech to online his optics and look over his shoulder. Who would be outside of his door? Better yet, who even knew he was here? Tentatively, Bumblebee turned over and let his legs hang off the side of the berth. He paused for a moment debating if he should even answer the door.

His conscious got the better of him and he hopped off the berth. He slowly made his way to the door and entered his security code. Letting out a heavy sigh, Bumblebee opened the door where Nova Strike was waiting.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Personal Quarters

Nova Strike's hip holster rotated open as the moments between the summons on the door had been dispatched and the magnetic locks being released. He had no real idea who he would find at the other end of that door. But his fingers slowly clasped around the grip of his blaster, ready to draw at the first unrecognized feature. The magnetic locks gave way and the first cracks appeared in the door.

The first curve of the yellow spy caused Nova Strike's hand to relinquish its stranglehold on the weapon grip and return the holster to his right hip. He stepped back a pace and allowed a small sheepish grin to spread across his features as he rubbed the back of his head. "Oh Bumblebee, I didn't know you were assigned these quarters. For a second there I thought some Decepticon agent had commandeered them for nefarious purposes."

He shifted his weight, noting the expression on the intelligence officer's face plate. It was a quizzical expression on the minibot's face told the ranger all he needed to know. "I can already tell you do not recognize me Bumblebee. Its been a long while since we were assigned to different quadrants of this war. I do hope that you kept that autograph of Nova Strike." He chuckled but noticed no response from his young friend. "You don't look so good, are you alright?"

Personal Quarters – Bumblebee

Bumblebee noticed the mech had his hand on a blaster, but it did not phase the minibot in the least. Had the mech drawn and pulled the trigger Bumblebee would not have cared in the least. His optics moved from the returned blaster back up to the mech’s face.

His shoulders slumped as the mech finally addressed him and made an attempt to lighten the mood. The only response he got was a heavy sigh and a quizzical expression. He had no clue who this mech was and what he wanted.

Bumblebee’s features hardened when the mech mentioned that he didn’t look good, implying that there was a problem. The last thing he wanted now was someone prying into his personal life. Bumblebee jabbed a finger into Nova Strike’s chest as he responded to the worried question.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or who told you I wasn’t well, but there’s nothing wrong with me. Got that? Nothing.”

Realizing what he had just done the yellow spy stepped back into his room. His expression was one of shock. Bumblebee retreated back into the room, but left the door open. He just needed to get away, to gather himself. When he reached the berth on the far end of the room Bumblebee hoped up and placed his face in the palms of his shaking hands. It was already starting. He was becoming what Hex had already become.

“I won’t let it happen to me. Not now.” He mumbled.

Personal Quarters - Bumblebee

Nova Strike released a disarming smile as the yellow minibot pivoted back into the gloom that was the officer quarters on board the Guardian. This was something new, he had known the diminutive Autobot from mega cycles back during some of the darker days of the war. While yes he knew full well that their meetings were infrequent and probably more notably his involvement in extraction missions rather than being directly assigned to support for the Espionage Expert. Even at one point, Nova had signed a holographic portrait of himself and the rest of the Nova Cronum Racing Team from before the outbreak of civil war, a rather rare and valuable commodity if it had been maintained in mint condition. Primarily because of that team, only Nova Strike was still functional. At least as far as he knew.

The ranger shook off the dark memories from the last time his team had raced, an event that had thrust him straight into the bowels of war. Instead he focused on one of the braver mechanisms he had encountered during his time of service. For his size, Nova Strike knew full well that Bumblebee was practically fearless. Not the strongest, fastest or most durable, hell he was probably the smallest and least prepared member of the Autobot Elite Forces. But regardless of those factors, Bumblebee had always been the first to take on any mission regardless of risk.

Now look at him. Nova had heard the traumatizing rumors of all that the smaller mechanism had gone through. He had also heard that the minibot had sequestered himself into the dark nether regions of the ship in order to try and sort things out. Having gone through his own fair shares of trauma, Nova had some experience in the isolation method of coping. It didn't help as much as everyone thought it did. Gave you too much time to think and feel pity for yourself rather than work past what had happened and move on with your life.

Without announcement or invitation, Nova stepped through the open door and entered into the dark chambers. "Its not going to get any better in here." Nova Strike pushed through the gloom and stood as a giant sentinel in the doorway, his silhouette hiding his color only to leave a pair of burning blue optics to highlight the shape of his body. "In here, sulking like some Symora Vypre."

He remained in an imposing stance, primarily to jog the minibot to action once again. Not exactly pushing the roles of rank to that of insubordination, given both were off duty. But even his presence would offer someone for the yellow spy to offer some insight to what was going on in his processors. "And it sure as slag doesn't help keeping all of your baggage trapped in a memory file." His facial features were hidden due to the glare but his voice was soft and caring. A menacing statue with a kind disarming charm. It was a curse Nova Strike had learned to bear and exploit as the situation called for.

"May as well share Bumblebee. Whats going on to bring the brave soldier to his knees?"

Mess Hall

Kup let out a sigh at Prowl’s reply. “Listen lad, I wasn’t saying anoint him the next Prime. What I was saying was something definitely happened to him. I’ve seen a lot of crazy things in my day and what he says isn’t out of the realm of possibility. Run all of the tests you want.” Kup rubbed his chin in thought. “In fact I was gonna recommend that anyway, completely slipped my mind. Too slaggin’ much going on for an old timer like me to keep up with.”

“Anyway, all I was saying is keep him in mind. Put his name on your list and think about it. I didn’t say make him a front runner or anything, but what he says isn’t impossible.” Kup was frustrated at Prowl’s quick dismissal of him. It was obvious he had misunderstood what he said, but he seemed ready to move on without talking it over. The stress must be starting to get to him a bit. He was always one of the more level headed Bots around but these were extraordinary circumstances.

The old warrior was happy to see Hot Rod agree to the tests with no argument, even if he still did insist that he would be leader. He wisely beat a quick retreat, settling his portion of the meeting. Kup was afraid, however, the most difficult part was to come as the Dinobots reacted negatively to Prowl’s comments on their leader.

*

Grimlock’s hands balled up into fists but he quickly waved back at the Dinobots, holding them at bay. Snarl was angry, Sludge was already destroying things, Slag was hammering a dent in the wall with his fists that was almost ready to rip and even the amicable Swoop was standing looking tense. Prowl didn’t really know how to interact with other regular Bots, let alone his team. Without Grimlock there he would have likely been smashed through a wall by now, a thought he was finding appealing right now.

The Dinobot leader looked down at Prowl as he towered over him. “You ‘inclined to remain in charge’ Prowl? Me want to know who make you new leader. Me guessing you do that yourself. It all logical right, you the smartest one, come up with all strategies. You probably thought you should always lead right? Now it your big chance, you happen to grab hold of leadership and not want to let go. Others come with alternatives and you just declare impasse and hold on for while longer.”

“Tell me Prowl, why you should lead? What your record on the field, or do you like to sit back at base, file reports and make strategies. Combaticons on Earth you say, but you up here holding meeting. You tell me Cons on planet, me go down and hit them myself, hard. What qualifies you as leader Prowl? Is it all this time helping to lead a war to a continuing stalemate? Is it ability to lead longest and most boring meetings? Is it best at staying back at base while others fight? Tell me Prowl why your name should be on list of candidates. Tell me why you should lead, then we see if you ‘acceptable.’” Grimlock’s voice twisted in anger and a bit of mockery at the end.

The whole meeting had felt like a farce, just an act for Prowl to remain in command. Then he mentions there are, or were, Decepticons on the planet below. While they wasted time talking about nothing the Decepticons were already forging ahead. They may have already lost that brief moment where they could seize the initiative. Grimlock wasn’t going to waste much more time here then arguing with Prowl. On the trip over he had formulated a ‘Plan B’ that he would use if necessary. It would be more difficult, but he would prefer it to working under Prowl’s self proclaimed leadership. Depending on how he answered here would dictate whether he fell back on that plan or not.

Personal Quarters – Bumblebee

With his face still in his hands, Bumblebee tried desperately to seal the very real memory of what the interrogator had done to him…had done to he and Hex. His head shot up in surprise when his unwanted guest addressed him again, this time from the open doorway to his quarters. Funny, I thought I closed that door. Bumblebee shook his head before jumping down off the berth. Slowly the minibot made his way to the mech.

“It’s never going to get better, not in here not out there.”

He glared up at Nova Strike for a brief moment as the larger mech continued on. He was right, but this ‘Bot had no clue what he’d been through. How could he even help?

“I don’t know what else to do.”

Bumblebee turned and slowly made his way back deeper into the room. This time he made his way to the far wall where he pressed his back and slid down to a seated position, his knees embraced by his arms.

“I’m not a brave soldier. I know now that I never was.”

He raised his head and look to the mech.

“I got caught. He…he tortured me, but he never asked me any questions. He did it because he could. He made sure it was continual. And that laugh…”

The small form of Bumblebee shuddered almost violently at the thought of it.

“He made me beg. Beg for him to stop, for him to continue….anything he wanted me to say, I did. There was nothing else I could do.”

Bee’s optics grew distant as he recalled the rest of the memories from his stay with the ‘Con interrogator.

“Before I was rescued he had pealed my armor and part of my protoform off. When I finally came too, ratchet told me that he also installed a bomb in my body which he remotely detonated destroying my body and taking off Axle’s arm, but not before he was able to extract my spark.”

Bumblebee quickly stood up and regarded Nova for a moment.

“The only one who can even relate to what I’ve been through…well, he’s just a youngling. And it might already be too late for him.”

The minobot let out a heavy sigh before he gestured for the mech to come fully into the room.

“It’s getting harder and harder to think about anything else. Even in stasis I can hear him and see him. And it scares me that I might be lost as well.”

****

Bounce Chamber

Sideswipe materialized on the platform in that, oh so familiar, bright flash of white light. The effect on his stabilizers was minimal which meant that he didn’t look like an awkward fool trying not to topple over in front of his twin once he appeared. Had to make sure Sunny had nothing to use against him.

The crimson twin straightened his stance when another beam of light appeared and just as quickly faded revealing, possibly, the most perfect image. Affixing his trademark smile, Sideswipe made his way to Tracer’s side once the femme fully materialized.

Tracer stumbled slightly only to be caught by someone who was also occupying the bounce platform with her.

“Thanks.”

After a moment she finally looked up and let out an annoyed groan when she saw that is was Sideswipe holding her arm. Carefully she pulled her appendage from his grip and offered him a polite nod. Sideswipe took it at her approval of him. Wrong.

“Oh, hey it’s my pleasure. So, now that that unpleasantness is over, care to join me in the mess hall for some energon?”

Tracer flashed her suitor an apprehensive smile before finally giving him a response.

“I would love to, but I can’t. I…uh…have a previous engagement. Maybe some other time.”

The femme flashed him another forced smile before quickly stepping off the platform and making her way into the corridor. She slowed her paced once she was out in the open, but stopped when Sideswipe stepped in front of her. His advancement had her stopping directly in front of the docking tunnel to the Ark – 19, with both ‘Bots standing at its entrance the steady stream of drones that had been moving into the tunnel were now cut off.

“Okay. So how about a raincheck on that drink? I’m sure once you get to know me you’ll enjoy my company.”

Tracer let out a heavy sigh.

“Look I’m sure you’re a great mech, but, really, I’m not interested.”

“Alright. So maybe a drink isn’t your think, we can do something else.”

“No thanks.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Then take this for an answer. Back off! I already said I’m not interested! Keep it up and I’ll make sure you really get the hint!”

Sideswipe’s smirk grew, testing the femme.

“Oh, you’re the kind of femme to do anything rash.”

“Wanna bet?!”