So I wrote this back at the same time I wrote From Humble Beginnings: Part 1. This is supposed to be a continuation of that story, however there is quite a large time skip that happens in between the two stories. I have been attempting, for years, to write a story that will bridge the gap between these two, but I can't seem to come up with any good ideas. I thought I would just put this part up then, since this three chapter set is also finished, and then I'd see if maybe someone here had some ideas for bridging the gap.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.
" " talking
: : private communication lines
"All Autobots please report to the rec-room for an important announcement." The message echoed from the loud speakers through the empty halls. Most of the crew had either passed out from over-energizing or were busy on duty. The base was deep in mourning. The last victory over the Decepticons had come at a heavy price. Nearly the entire command staff had been killed in a Decepticon trap. Ultra Magnus had called for a new staff to be sent and they were scheduled to arrive today. Slowly, everyone began to move but one. Bluestreak stayed in his room because he did not want to be around the others. They were very mean to him so he avoided them as much as possible, especially Cliffjumper and Tracks. These two would not hesitate to make sure the new arrivals knew how much of a failure Bluestreak was and how no one cared about him. Everyone knew that he had previously been stationed at Iacon base and that, normally, no one was transferred out of Iacon. For the first while, Bluestreak had maintained the belief that Prowl and Jazz would come for him and take him back where he belonged. But day and after day passed with no visitors. The others continued to comment on how he had been transferred so he must have done something wrong. Cliffjumper in particular seemed to like to tell Bluestreak that no one was going to come for him because no one cared about him. After many orns, Bluestreak began to believe these voices and his life became a living hell.
He passed a few blissful hours in peace but, alas, all good things must come to an end. It was quite late at night, around midnight, when someone knocked on Blue's door.
"Come out and play Baby Blue!" Cliffjumper called, "We have a fun new game planned out!" Well that certainly didn't sound fun to Bluestreak but he didn't really have a choice. If he didn't go out they would come in and get him and then things would be ten times worse. So with great reluctance, he opened the door and let them in.
"C'mon Blue Baby!" Tracks said, "We want you to meet some new friends." They pushed him out of the room and towards the rec room/meeting hall.
Meanwhile, in the rec room, everyone had to celebrate and reunite with loved ones among the new arrivals. In one dark corner sat a group of older mechs, lost in memories and cubes of high-grade. There was an air of experience around them, it was obvious that they had seen many battles and lost many friends. But there was something else, something darker. Their optics were empty, devoid of life; they were empty shells, something had killed their hope. Of course, no one on the base would have been able to guess that the reason, but it was that Bluestreak had been taken from them. He was the reason that they kept going, he reminded them that even in a world engulfed by war, there was still life, hope, and innocence and it was their job to protect it and fight for it. But when that reminder, Bluestreak, was taken, they forgot what they were fighting for. This group of veterans had been involved in the war since nearly the beginning and had always stuck together as a unit. Bluestreak had been the first one to be separated by a means other than death. He had simply disappeared one day and no one could say where he had gone. They had spent vorns searching for him, but to no avail. Among these mechs were the famous war heroes like Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Ironhide, Inferno, Red Alert, Mirage, Hound, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker. Optimus Prime was scheduled to follow in a few weeks to trade posts with Magnus. However none of the younger mechs dared to approach their childhood heroes. Suddenly there was a loud commotion at the doorway.
"Sounds like someone had a little too much energon, eh Prowl?" Prowl was about to answer when a familiar figure was pushed through the doorway and fell in a heap. A group if rowdy and obviously quite drunken mechs staggered in after. One of them, painted entirely red, kicked the downed mech rather hard.
"Get up you lazy baby! Its time for some fun!" Cliffjumper cried. Even from the other side of the room, Prowl, Jazz, and the others could hear the dull thump of metal hitting metal and the accompanying soft cry of pain. Other mechs started to join in, kicking and hitting the downed form with a vicious strength.
"C'mon Jazz, we better break this up before it gets out of hand."
"Right behind ya Prowler." The two mechs made their way through the room until they were right next to the group. However, they still could not see the form on the ground.
"Is there a problem here gentlemen?" Jazz's thick drawl caused Cliffjumper to whirl around, looking rather guilty but quickly throwing up a mask of indifference.
"No, no problem here sir. We were just having some fun." But when Cliffjumper had moved, Prowl had dropped down beside the injured mech, who was sporting many dents and scratches. He had curled into himself to try to protect his face and chest panels from receiving the brunt of the attack. Prowl was trying to convince him to uncurl but it seemed that he had not yet registered that the blows had ceased. When Prowl finally succeeded, whatever he was going to say next was stolen from his lips. All that escaped was a strangled "Jazz…" When Jazz heard the pain in his bondmate's voice and felt the emotions through their bond, he quickly hurried to his side. What he saw would haunt his nightmares for vorns to come. Lying on the floor, dripping his own energon and oil, was their sweet little Bluestreak.
"Ratchet!" The other mechs at the table had noticed the commotion but could not see what was happening. When they heard the worry in Prowl's normally emotionless voice, they quickly leaped up and hurried over.
"What's wrong Prowl?"
"Look for yourself." Ratchet stood for a moment, horrified at the sight before him, before he went into medic mode. He quickly pulled out a scanner from his subspace and ran it over the downed form.
"He has multiple broken cables, most likely internal leaking as well. Some of these injuries look quite old. Help me get him to the med-lab so I can bet a better look." Jazz quickly lifted the slight form into his arms and carried him out of the room. The movements caused the slight form to stir and bright blue optics flickered blearily on.
"Oh, hello Jazz. Hello Prowl." whispered a small voice before the black-and-white head fell back to its resting place on Jazz's chest. Prowl and Jazz exchanged a significant look before moving on, more worried than before. There was something very disconcerting about Bluestreak's easy acceptance of their presence. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stayed behind to escort the troublemakers to the brig. When they used a little more force than necessary on Cliffjumper, no one dared argue with the look in their optics.