"You sure do moan a lot, old timer".
"I'll have you know, I am not old, you young ruffian, I am well aged, refined, matured. I am not old. Now hurry up with this Primus forsaken check up. Some of us have places to be".
The medibot smiled slightly. His patient did indeed have someplace to be. As a surviving hero of the Great War, he was to be part of the honour guard at Cheetor Prime's inauguration. But even if it was any old day, he doubted the attitude would be any different. This guy was spent most of his time talking down to everyone. Still, once you got past the high and mighty act, it was hard not to like to old-excuse me, refined bot. He just had a way about him.
"Alright, you're good to go Tracks".
Tracks arrived at the ceremony with his usual impeccable timing. Naturally, as he took his place in the line up, he shone, all optics drawn to his form. And, just as naturally, he was kept waiting as the less…well rounded types arrived late. His old comrades in arms had let themselves go in their personal habits as well as their time keeping, as demonstrated by Grimlock's indifference to a rather obvious dent in his shoulder armor, no doubt from some sparring with an assuredly unfortunate and battered youngster, or Blurr's incessant fidgeting and that mumbling about energon reserves . Yes, it was a good thing the new Prime would have the likes of him around to raise the tone. It was only a shame he hadn't his old Earth form to impress the young Maximal. While Tracks accepted the new form, in his case a technorganic elk, had a certain functionality and efficiency you couldn't help but admire, it was impossible to get past the simple inelegance of these animal forms. He missed the sleekness of his car mode, the form he'd kept even after the Maximal upgrade, albeit on a smaller scale of course. Oh well, as always, he would just have to put his best servo forward, and make sure the common man knew that Tracks, that ever impressive figure of a mech was still around, antlers or no.
And of course, Tracks fully intended to allow the new Prime access to his vast knowledge and skill. First and foremost was the keeping of the peace, and smoothing over old differences. And with Tracks on hand, it was an almost guaranteed success. He never liked to criticize others, and of course he had nothing but respect for Optimus Prime (now retired of course) but really, he just hadn't the way with the common man needed to bring the factions together. But, in his new assignment as advisor to the Prime, Tracks would make sure young Cheetor was molded into every bit the object of adoration and respect Tracks, however grudgingly accepted himself to be. Yes, Tracks would-
"Ow!"
Grimlock jabbed him in the side. Why that low brow-. Tracks suddenly realized something. Everyone in the crowd was staring at him expectantly. Grimlock, Blurr, Jazz, all the old hands were watching him, some hiding a smirk. And on the raised platform in front of the throng, Cheetor was waiting, his team looking both amused and embarrassed. Cheetor himself looked like he was going to burst out laughing any nanoclick. Tracks looked down, and realized he was still holding the Energon Matrix in his hands, and that an attendant was beckoning him incessantly.
"Oh, did I miss my cue?"
