Howdy, I haven't published anything in awhile. So here's this thing I spat out in a day.

An iridescent tear eats at a storm ridden sky, bleeding the taste of a distant universe like an infection. Out it spits a being of that unknown, chaotic and ruthless. He doesn't belong here. As if knowing that, the sky rumbles its distaste of the rapidly descending figure.

Far below, a young boy by the name of Rafael Esquivel sits idly on the front steps of his school building. He's content to wait outside for his friends, despite the swirling clouds above. However, a storm isn't the only thing brewing over head, and it certainly isn't the most worrisome. An odd sound reaches Raf's ears. He looks about himself, furrowing his brows at the relatively empty area. It's not empty for long.

There's a wicked crack of concrete as something huge lands in an impact that lances through the ground, sending debris and dust flying outward from its epicenter.

Cars wail their distress, joined by a smattering of shocked shouts. Raf's up on his feet and down the rest of the steps before he can even process what he's running toward. Due to his short stride, by the time he gets there there's already a growing crowd of students, teachers, and passerby's alike. They peter about uncertainly, low mummers of confusion drifting between them. Raf finds himself having to push past a woman taking pictures to get a closer look.

The crater cuts a deep hole into the concrete, thin trails of black smoke whisking up from the crumpled heap of metal within. A sluggish flow of fluorescent pink liquid seeps from the mass. The scent of ozone lies thick in the air. His knees feel weak, a thrill races up his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.

The gangly mess of strange parts and twisted blue metal, rises up from its grave with a horrific spat of clattering. In turn the previously gawking crowd scatters haphazardly, screaming all the while. The source of their fear moves like an old windup toy missing a few gears. Jittering and loud. No longer an unidentifiable pile of scrap, the thing reveals itself to be some sort of mech. All thin plating and abnormal-near insect like limbs- it appears nothing like the Cybertronian's on Earth. 'Nothing like the autobots at least, this has to be a decepticon.' Worse, it had no face, just a telescopic-esq head and a single burning gold optic. It brings up an eerie recollection of the xenomorphs from Alien. Certainly not a pleasant comparison.
The creature gives a small shake, then a full body shudder, its dented blue plating flaring wildly. It topples over.
Its huge pair of pinchers dig rivets into the concrete, and the air fills with that terrifying clattering once more. There comes the realization that it's cackling.

Rafael backpedals, which is apparently the wrong thing to do because suddenly that big yellow optic is trained directly on him. He freezes, blood running cold in face of that spotlight-like gaze. His throat constricts, gulping audibly around the fear lodged there. Automatically the boy raises his hands-empty palms outward hovering over his chest-in a placating gesture. The mech lurches forward, pistons screeching, and brings up one claw to point straight between his eyes.

"Ha! You look like Rung's holomatter avatar had a baby with a gremlin." Its optic contorts into a squint from what can only be unaltered glee, at the bewildered expression on the boy's face. "Don't take it personally, lotta you organics have that-" There's a vague gesture that spans the entirety of Raf's person. "-nasty little flesh-bag look going on."

Raf's mouth opens and closes, but he can't seem to find any words. His awareness that he- and the entire human race- was just insulted only dimly registers considering the razor sharp claws only inches from his face.

"No argument there, huh?" Those claws open and snap shut, clacking together, akin to a crab. Upon the resulting flinch from the human, they retreat back to supporting the mech's frame. It regards him with a slightly more wary glint to its optic. "...Did I break you, Squishy? I told you not to take it personally, jeez."

The mech heaves itself upward once more, balancing precariously on its thin legs. Distantly Raf notes the school doors opening as people rush past him to safety.

"Fun chat, but I'm gonna go."

It scratches idly at the jutting plating serving as its chest, dislodging some dirt there. In the process it uncovers a much too familiar emblem beneath the grime.
Rafael blinks rapidly at the sight of it, shock blooming through his fear in some sort of messy tandem, giving way to conflict.

"W-wait! You- you're a," Suddenly the blue mech crouches low as if readying to spring, giving Raf a clear view of the twin gun barrels under its chest. At that the blurted words die before they can become a coherent sentence.

"I'm a what?" It challenges with the hum of its weapons. Danger evident in its tense frame. Raf squeaks, tripping onto his rear in his haste to put space between himself and those barrels. There's a chuffing sound above, and it seems the mech is now laughing at his misfortune. He can't find it in himself to be embarrassed, much too relieved to be free of the mech's ire. However, despite the mood change the bot doesn't relax from its crouch. The blades above its claws spin lazily, and it shutters its gold optic a few times. The sound of police sirens wail in the distance, apparently someone had half a mind to call the authorities on the giant robot. Not that that would do any good.

"This was a real riveting experience, really, good times with my old pal, Squishy-Four-Eyes," Mock sincerity coats the words in a growing dirge. Its blades- no rotors begin to spin faster. "Sadly, I've got more important things to do, which would be literally anything else. So I'm gonna go do those things."

The mech uncoils from its crouch with enough force to launch itself upward into the air. Its frame contorts, folding mid-air to transform into something strikingly similar to an Earth helicopter. There's a disconcerting whine to its engine, as if it's protesting its injuries. Then it's gone. Veering up and away without a speck of hesitation.

Raf remains seated on the ground, even as frantic footsteps sound behind him. His friend Jack Darby nearly tumbles to the ground himself when he skids to a halt beside his younger friend. Their mutual friend Miko Nakadai, however, does trip, and plows straight into Jack. They land in a sprawled heap, but Raf pays them no heed. The older boy attempts to draw his attention with a cry of:

"What was that!?"

Mystified Rafael stares at the rapidly vanishing helicopter in the sky. "I think...it was an autobot."

A hand snatching his glasses off his face knocks him out of his stupor. "Hey-"

"Hello? Are these working, Raf? That dude is flying, only 'cons fly." Miko points upward with the stolen glasses a bit more forcefully than needed. Miffed she hadn't gotten to take a picture of the weird mech. "Autobots: roll out! That's not rolling, that's, like, the opposite of rolling. Bam. 'Con. End of story."

"No I-," He struggles to reach his glasses from the taller girl, and she relents returning them with a snort. "I saw it, he had an autobot symbol on."

Jack squints at him, sharing an incredulous glance with Miko. "Are you sure, Raf? That guy didn't really seem like autobot material."

"Yeah, besides the whole flying thing, none of the autobots have big claws like that." She mimics the mech's claws snapping with her hands.

Raf averts his gaze, gnawing at his lip. He doesn't point out the fact that he had been mere feet away from the bot, whereas they had only managed to catch a glimpse of him from inside the school. He saw it, bright red on the mech's cockpit, he'd recognize it anywhere. Nevertheless, he shrugs slightly, shaken up and adverse to continuing an argument with his friends.
Miko seems to notice his dejection and gives him a pat on the back that's only kinda condescending.

So maybe 'borrowing' a few of Brainstorm's inventions hadn't been his best idea. Then again maybe Brainstorm shouldn't make his experiments look like guns, because of course Whirl would be obligated to shoot them. He couldn't just, not shoot them. Not shooting guns went against his morals. And well, maybe if he hadn't been shooting at random in an enclosed area he wouldn't have accidentally shot himself.
But that's enough maybes for now. Result is he doesn't know where he is, and he managed to get smashed up while landing. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Though usually he'd be getting yelled at by now. Strangely enough his comm hasn't said a peep since he woke up. In a crater. Surrounded by squealing organics. That was pretty weird.

Whirl's HUD blinks red, damage reports rolling across his vision groggily. Urgent: primary energon line severed. Stabilizing gyros functioning at 65%. Spinal strut fractured. GPS System Offline. Energon levels lo-
He dismisses the alerts easily, they were no use to him, the level of first aid he was capable of performing with his claws was quite limited. His auto-repair would have to pick up the slack. Even so, leaking to death on a foreign planet wasn't really the blaze of glory type ending he was looking for. So he needs to clamp off that energon line before he offlines. Simple enough for a pair of pinchers.

The landscape beneath him blends into an endless stream of indistinguishable shapes and colors. At this point he was fairly far from that organic settlement. The scenery below was now writhe with greenery.
Proximity sensors ping a sudden alert. Whirl banks to the left, something bright whizzing past him into the clouds. He slows his flight, enough to detect the frames on the ground aiming at him. Outnumbered, he halts, hovering in place. They're all dark colored mechs, near identical beyond a few variations. Behind them, similar looking mechs mill about the wide entrance of a mine. When they notice him they take hold of their carts, and retreat into the mine. A few return, training their weapons on him as well. Staring him down uncertainly one guard begins to shout.

"Land a-and don't move! Servos in the air!"

The mech's voice trembles slightly.
He doesn't give much thought to it. They shot first.

Allowing his rotors to still in place, he drops out of the air like a dead seeker. Yelps of surprise and several attempts to shoot him follow. A blast glances off his chassis, but if the goal was to slow him down it does nothing. Whirl crashes down onto the mech that had spoken, transforming into his root mode during the impact.
His frame is lightweight, but his momentum is more than enough to crumple the mech into the ground. The 'copter's HUD informs him of the consequences of using himself as a battering ram. As if the singeing pain didn't make it obvious enough. He revels in it, all of it.

The ruined frame under him shudders and sparks. Dark plating leaks blue over his claws in spurts while he works his grip onto weak neck cabling. The mech sputters feebly. A grotesque gurgling comes from his opponent, spinal strut following his helm free from his frame. Whirl straightens, towering over the graying mech. He holds the mech's decapitated helm aloft between his claws, gleefully observing the fear take hold in the surrounding mechs.

"I did what he asked, didn't I?" He nails the nearest guard with the offlined mech's helm, and they go down like a brick. Claws back in the air he gives them a wiggle to emphasize their position. "See? I can follow orders."

They don't respond. Verbally at least, the sound of their blasters charging up is enough of an answer in itself.

Whirl concedes,
"OK, so three out of two isn't bad, I mean, I had to move to get my servos in the air didn't I?"

They let their blasters do the talking once again, opening fire upon the autobot. He lets his own weapons join the conversation. Whirl heaves his offline opponent up to shield his taller frame, twin guns mowing down a row of mechs in front of him. They fall one after another, as if they weren't built to last in a fight. 'Kinda pathetic.'
Blaster fire licking at his chassis draws his attention to an unfortunate mech who tries to backpedal. The 'copter forgoes his guns, bodily throwing himself at the shorter mech. He butts his helm against the other's visor, shattering it, and carelessly damaging his own optic in the process. It doesn't affect his pace. He latches on the dazed mech's shoulders, and gives them a sharp tug. The intention was to tear his arms off, however his opponent ends up completely bisected lengthways. Whirl's golden optic shutters in a surprised blink. Blue liquid soaks his cockpit, dribbling into his seams, mixing with the pink energon he leaked. The pinchers holding the two halves of the other mech clench involuntarily. Something about this wasn't quite right.

His momentary pause gives the other mechs an opportunity to attack. Something in his leg gives way, the damaged armor there failing to protect it. The autobot turns on his attackers, confusion forgotten.

"Is everyone on this dust bowl planet huge afts? Quit shooting me while I'm trying to think!"

"Prime!" Disgruntled would perhaps be too weak a word to describe Agent Fowler's demeanor right now. He's furious, pacing up and down the walk way, his hands balled into fists. The addressed autobot regards him calmly, a slight frown on his handsome faceplate. His medic at the base's computer terminal quirks an eyebrow ridge at the infuriated human. Leading Optimus to silently will the other to not say anything that would fuel the Agent's bad mood. Thankfully Ratchet just snorts, resuming his work. Relieved the taller 'bot patiently waits for the man to voice his complaints. It takes several more moments of huffing and puffing. Then Fowler finally halts his pacing, coming to stand in front of Optimus, his hands gripping at the railing. His glare is met with the autobot leader's slightly confused, perhaps even concerned optics. For whatever reason this deepens the human's scowl. "You wanna tell me what one of your guys was doing prancing around a school in broad daylight!?"

That garners Ratchet's attention, and this time the medic turns from his terminal fully, crossing his arms over his chassis. Optimus sighs quietly through his vents.

"Agent Fowler, I understand you are displeased with our presence here on Earth, however you have met all the autobot's stationed on this planet." Fowler glares harder, Prime presses on before the human could interrupt. "No one was patrolling in town today, in fact Bumblebee, Arcee, and Bulkhead have only left recently to pick up their charges."

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain the huge robotic blue bozo my men have been working to scrub off the World Wide Web?" He jabs a finger at Optimus' frowning faceplate. "Do you know how many phones we've had to confiscate? This is a huge mess, Prime! And I'm holding you accountable."

Optimus opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of his comm crackling to life in his audital has him ignoring Fowler. The man sputters indignantly when the autobot holds up a servo to silence him. Over the comm Bee's clicks and whirls sound off an excited babble.

::Raf says he met a new autobot at his school!::

Arcee's voice joins the call,
::Jack and Miko both say he didn't.::

Optimus considers the conflicting information, and gives the order to his soldiers to return to base with their charges promptly. Fowler stares at him expectantly.

"It would appear that the children have some information on our unknown mech."

"That's it? That's all you have to say? There's a dangerous mech out there who clearly didn't get the robots in disguise memo!" Fowler bashes a fist against the railing, rattling it. "You can't just let this guy go wandering through towns willy-nilly!"

"Agent Fowler, I assure you once we take stock of the situation we won't allow this mech to continue roaming in this manner." Whether or not this mech was an autobot or not would really be the deciding factor in that. Neither a Decepticon or a Neutral would be all to willing to take orders from him. "Until then we will provide assistance in covering up this incident."

Fowler seethes.

The screech of tires alerts the base's occupants of the arrival of the remaining autobots. The young scout tears into the room, flashing his headlights. His charge can be heard laughing through the open windows. Arcee rolls up next, Bulkhead close behind.

"Optimus!" Rafael peeks out Bee's window, a faltering smile on his face. He glances toward his friends who've already crossed the base floor toward the couch. "I uh-"

Bumblebee beeps encouragingly at his nervous charge, the boy responds with another weak smile, and exits the scout.

Rafael describes what he encountered at his school. The injured blue mech he found in the crater. His crass personality, and strange appearance. The autobots tense when the boy mentions the mech's lack of servos, lack of a face. The tank churning signs of an empurata victim.

"...then I think he called me ugly, or really just organics in general-" Ratchet snorts. "-he got up to leave, and that's when I saw the autobot symbol on his chest."

"Then he flew away!" Miko pipes up from the couch, Jack bobbing his head in a nod.

Optimus doesn't acknowledge the interruption, opting to lower himself closer to eye-level with Rafael. "Can you describe his alt mode for us?"

Raf relaxes, clearly having been expecting some sort of dismissal. "It looked like some sort of helicopter...with a pair of big guns under its cockpit."

"I see," There's an uncomfortable niggling at the back of his processor. He raises to optics to address his team. "Do any of you recognize a mech of that description?"

They each shake their helms, Raf's expression falls, dismayed. Miko rolls her eyes.

"Told you it wasn't an autobot, autobots don't fly."

Ratchet spares her a look,
"There are fliers in the autobots, the aerialbots for one, it's just not common."

Rafael perks up, nearing the medic. "You think this mech could be one of the aerialbots?" His big hopeful eyes has the gruff medic averting his gaze with a shrug.

"If he is, I've never heard of him."

A few more dents mar his frame, and a few more errors crowd his HUD. At some point his rotors began smoking, but they'd stop soon enough. Sticky blue energon covers his plating like a second coat of paint. Limping into another chamber of the mine Whirl subspaces another cube of that weird blue energon. Not what he was looking for. A quiet clank of metal far too soft to be his own, has him squinting in an imitation of a smile.

"Peek-a-boo!"

Pinchers snap shut over his advisory's leg, wrenching the mech from its hiding place, and onto the floor. It immediately begins begging, which was funny the first dozen times, but now Whirl's over it.

"Please, don't kill me! I jus-just work the mines! I don't-I dont-"

"I don't care."

To emphasize his point the 'copter lashes out with his claws, impaling the mech through its neck, and successfully destroying its vocoder. The mech writhes, grasping at the claw pinning it to the ground.

"Ya know, I didn't even realize you guys were 'cons until I had already deactivated most of you." That single golden optic burns uncaring holes into the helpless mech at his pedes. It's void of any sort of empathy, just watching the other with the same level of detachment as a human regarding an ant. "I think Eyebrows would say that's concerning."

A sharp kick drives his pede into the miner's abdominal plating. The mech curls inward on itself in silent pain.

"He'd also ask me how I feel, or some slag like that. What about you, how are you feeling?" Whirl peers down at the miner, standing his other pede on top the other's helm. He leans his weight into it, humming as the mech's faceplate began to split. "Speechless huh? That good? You're a weirdo."

"No judgement here, I'm not gonna tattle to anyone about what gets you revved," Perhaps he presses too hard, because he finds his pede touching the floor, having gone straight through the mech's helm. The crushed pieces of the miner's brain module fizz against his pede forlornly. "Whoops. Guess you're taking your kinks to the grave."

He yanks both his claws and his pede from the greying frame, losing his balance in the process. Whirl's back hits the far wall with a painful crack. The blue mech allows himself to slide down to the floor as if strutless. His damage report begins to ping at him again, he dismisses it as usual, retrieving one of the blue energon cubes from his subspace. He eyes it thoughtfully with his single optic, turning it around in the mine's dim lighting as if the angle would change it somehow.

"You think this'll give me some weird organic disease?" The cooling corpse remains considerably quiet. "Yeah, me too."

Whirl clinks the cube against the miner's chassis then empties the entire cube into his intake. He doesn't taste it, he hasn't been able to taste anything in a long time. Nevertheless, he makes the sound of smacking lips he doesn't have, along with a hum, as if contemplating the flavor. 'Grinning' down at the mech he nudges the cold frame with one of his sharp elbows.

"Better than the sludge Swerve serves."

He laughs enough for both of them.