I own Whiteout and Jumper
Disclaimer: i dont own transformers.
I couldnt find my muse and i know, way overdue... here you go guys, enjoy the sequel to Gimme a Chance!
Chapter 1- Messenger Boy
Whiteout scurried about in the halls of the Ark carrying piles of datapads in his arms. He crossed mechs, cutting them with a polite 'excuse me' or 'pardon me, coming through.' It was his job as the messenger, to carry datapads to certain mechs from others at a specific time. He was given the little nickname The Transporter, like the man in the movie The Transporter. Whiteout found it as a pass time instead of sitting in his adoptive sires' quarters watching holo-tv and burning out his circuits with pointless human shows. He entertained himself with this. He got to know mechs he would not have known by name. It was midday and Whiteout was almost completed with his armful of datapads. He stopped by Optimus' door and walked in as it was open. He greeted the Prime with a kind, "Hello, Optimus."
The mech lifted his gaze from whatever he was scribbling on the datapad to glance at the youngling. His optics crinkled in a smiling matter, "Why, hello, little one. More datapads for me?"
Whiteout set down the pile on the floor and grabbed the top five, then set them on the desk, "Yep. Same as always, sir."
He lifted the shortened pile back into his arms, "Bye, Optimus!"
Optimus chuckled and he would have smiled, "Good bye, little one."
Whiteout left the office and proceeded to the security office where he needed to have Red Alert sign something about new safety protocols. Whiteout only knew enough about the datapads he carried to an extent. He was only told who they were going to and what was their purpose; he wasn't a nosy youngling so he didn't read any of them. Upon arriving at the security office, he knocked on the door to his left where Red Alert monitored all the activities with his many screens and watchful cameras.
A wary, "Who is it?" answered him.
"Whiteout, sir," he responded.
"Come in,"
Whiteout pushed the button and the doors opened. Whiteout stepped in and set his pile of datapads on the floor, lifting the datapad on the top of the pile. He raised it towards the security director, "The new safety protocols need your signature of approval."
Red Alert took the datapad and touched the screen to online. His optics scanned the datapad, making noises of approval before taking his stylus and scrawling his signature. He gave the datapad to Whiteout who was patiently waiting with the small pile in his arms, "There you go."
"Thank you,"
Whiteout left the office and went down the same hall to Hot Rod's office. The young mech had taken up his carrier's office and though he wasn't as good as Prowl, Hot Rod managed to keep things in order. The 2iC's door was open and Whiteout stepped in and greeted Hot Rod.
"Oh, hey, Whiteout!" Hot Rod greeted back with a smile.
"The top datapad is Red Alert's approval of the new safety protocols and the rest are reports from the patrol teams," Whiteout set the small pile on the desk with a smile as his doorwings lifted happily.
"Thanks kiddo," Hot Rod patted the youngling's shoulder.
"And I'm done for this shift,"
"Good for you,"
Whiteout left with a good bye and went to the rec room. By the time he got there, the bell rang for the end of the shift. He hurriedly filled himself a cube of Energon and claimed a seat before the other mechs could beat him. He chose a seat in one of the corners of the rec room and he casually sipped his Energon as the mass of mechs flooded the room and loud chatters filled his audios. Whiteout saw his sires enter and collect their Energon before moving over to him, sitting on either sides of him. From every other bots' point of view, Sunstreaker was his alpha sire and Sideswipe was his beta sire. For Whiteout, it didn't matter, just as long as either twin was with him.
"How's our little Transporter?" Sunstreaker asked as he placed a small kiss on the youngling's forehelm.
Whiteout flushed and his doorwings drooped in reaction, "I'm fine papa."
He showed his sires a crooked smile- Jazz's crooked smile.
"You have your appointment with Ratchet today. You didn't forget about that, did you?" Sideswipe said. Sideswipe began to get involved with his twin and Whiteout after he had awoken from stasis lock, supporting his brother in raising the youngling. If you could ask any Autobot, they would say Whiteout matured them. Of course, they were still the same goofs, but more responsible.
And although Ratchet was a kind mech- underneath his wrench-flying insanity- Whiteout was not fond of doctors. Not quite yet. He was teased by it often times in a playful manner, calling it doctorphobia. Yet, Whiteout said, "No. I didn't forget. Can I not go? How about during off hours?"
Sunstreaker chuckled, "During off hours, Ratchet is in his cave with the psycho engineer that loves to blow up his aft."
"Besides, you'll get to see Jumper during on hours," Sideswipe added.
Jumper immediately became Whiteout's friend during his recovery to full health. Whiteout was five and he was three. Though Jumper was really young, the prodigy had already created two lion-bots with his explosive sire. Because Jumper was a prodigy, Ratchet and Wheeljack were extremely proud to have created such a smart creation. Though several mechs bet one of their creations would be explosive like the sire.
Upon finishing their Energon, the three went to the medical wing, meeting Ratchet tidying up around the med bay with Jumper sitting on his shoulders while tinkering with a thin and long object.
"Hiya doc!" the twins greeted earning a displeased growl from the CMO.
"Ratchet." He said, "You may not use the term doc."
"Oh, sure. We can't but I'm sure your mate can," Sunstreaker snickered.
"You dirty minded fr- forget it. Whiteout's here for his appointment in preparations of his next upgrade tomorrow morning," Ratchet rolled his optics, swallowing down his swear. No need for colorful language in front of the children.
"Yep," Whiteout peeped. He was excited for the upgrade.
"Alright, Whiteout, you sit there while I prep the equipment," Ratchet said as he pointed to a med berth.
The youngling obeyed and sat down, kicking his pedes forward and back.
Yay for Whiteout! Please r&r and criticize me! lawls
