Begin Part One: The Awakening


Only about two month's time had passed, but Optimus was quite used to the new presence sharing the space of his home. Quiet and usually asleep, the one they called Moonwing essentially lived on a berth in the main room. He was presently there; the now predominantly black, thin flier lay like a flat and unmoving shadow whilst Optimus read throughout the night. When the morning sun rose at last, the fresh rays made the silver detailing of Moonwing glint.

This was the time when Optimus rose and strode to him with heavy, though steady, steps. When a hand fell over the smooth plating of his shoulder, Moonwing knew he had drifted off again. His eyes creaked open with regretful hesitation to brave the sunlight seeping through the glass. An incomprehensible mumble tumbled from his mouth, then he shut his eyes again in the hope of a few more minutes of rest. However, the hand was persistently gentle, shaking him.

"It is time to awaken," came the rumble from over him.

The tone was firm enough to rouse him to obey. Moonwing blinked in defeat and looked to Optimus's significantly larger figure. After lying there for a few more moments, both he and Optimus realized that he was too fatigued to move. Moonwing pushed a lopsided smile and faintly replied, "Ah, it would appear…"

"I understand."

"Bad morning."

Strength was often something his body was deficient of. Even when Moonwing recharged daily, very unusual among Cybertronians, he never felt that he fully recovered. Optimus reached for him, and it hurt when the hands dug under him. The pressure forced him to flinch, but Moonwing understood that Optimus was being as gentle as he could. He was seated upright, though when the hands left, Moonwing slouched from the weight of his own wings.

Optimus had left to bring him a square cup of liquid energon. Often he needed such boosts, so he straightened Moonwing's slouch and put the cup to his mouth. Moonwing's hand made an effort to hold the container itself, but it dropped and rolled over. Moonwing could not lift his arm so long as this smudge of black appeared in his vision.

Moonwing glanced away and curled his fingers, doing nothing else when the large thumb swiped a stray drop off his face for him. "Thank you…" he murmured as an uncomfortable heat rose in his face. "Optimus… Sorry… I don't know why today again…"

"It is nothing for you to concern yourself about. Come, before you are late."

Moonwing sought out the clock behind him and realized that he had over-rested. Optimus's hands pressed painfully into him again, one against his back and wings, the other under his legs. Lifted suddenly, a rush of dizziness grasped him, forcing him to go limp. Moonwing dropped his head against red metal, slitting his eyes as they neared the window. In the faint reflection, he could see his feeble form staring back, the white rings of his irises tightening.

Optimus lowered him into a hovering chair and fixed his legs onto the footrest. The aches in Moonwing's joints re-announced themselves with dull throbbing, but he took a moment to blink at the view below. Eyes shifting from right to left, he scanned the labyrinth of roads tucked in between the plentiful buildings. The sun fell upon the bustling of bots like a glaze, and far away a yellow-bathed jogger was tracked by his eyes.

He flattened his gleaming wings against the backrest and let the smaller two wings of his lower back fit through the hole. Settled, he observed a flock of Cybertronian sunbirds swoop into the city just as Optimus towed him away. They headed to the door with only one pause for Optimus to fetch the prepaid card for the groundbridge station. Every school day he passed it to Moonwing, allowing him to teleport out of the city.

The card was tucked between Moonwing's fingers. Just as that hand clenched it with slow care, Optimus announced, "I have plans with Jazz today."

Moonwing murmured, "Okay."

"As I will not be back until late, you will stay with Ultra Magnus after school and accompany him home. I shall pick you up there."

Moonwing nodded. Optimus directed him out the door before resetting the lock. Up the hall, Moonwing spotted another door opening. Light footsteps were heard, but he already had memorized the doors of every neighbour. He knew it was Arcee before she came out.

Arcee hardly ever paid him much attention, but whenever Moonwing saw her appear, he felt a boost of delight. Everyone else who lived around them seemed to like her, so he assumed that she had likeable qualities. For one, she was always dutiful and swift; responsible. Her focus came as an inspiration to the curious Moonwing, although it was also a tad intimidating to him.

Arcee was indeed a busy individual, but she did not have a need to stay near the experiment. Obligated to treat him with only kindness, however, she waved at him once he waved at her. His face was still recognizable to her as someone she hated, but Arcee still knew he was honest when he looked at her with in a friendly way. That was what made it all the more confusing and vexing. He shouldn't be looking at her in that way. For although Arcee acted as Optimus had told her to, she could not imagine him as another being.

Part of her didn't want him to smile at all. The burning ache in her chest wanted the plan to fail, for him to be imprisoned and incapable of flight. Misery- and then her satisfaction-

But it is not the way of Autobots.

She departed down the stairs, leaving them to themselves. On the ground floor, she pattered away before the elevator doors opened and revealed them again. Moonwing looked after her, then examined the area filled with lounging bots bearing a variety of weapons. Never having had the need to talk to them, their individuality was lost upon Moonwing. They were a sea of Elite Guard emblems to him, faced yet faceless while they all straightened up upon glimpsing Optimus Prime. All except one, an Earth-based sportscar Elite Guard, who continued to lean against the wall while tapping his cellular device.

Moonwing perked at the sight of his own Guard, always excited to see him each day. Smokescreen shifted at the sight of them, hastily tucking the device away. Clear and respectful, Smokescreen proclaimed, "Good morning, Optimus!"

Then, to Moonwing, he dropped into informal Cybertronian speech. "Moon, how's it going?"

Moonwing replied in a feathery whisper, "Fine."

"Good stuff, good stuff. Right, let's get going!"

Moonwing adjusted his hold on the card while Smokescreen hopped around to take possession of him. After bidding Optimus farewell, Moonwing was led through the sliding doors, thereupon entering that hustling world of the outside. As it was every time, he was struck all at once by the sounds, sights, and energy. His audio receptors gradually began to smart, but he did nothing for it. Complacently, he sat still and peered at the stomping Elite Guards who wandered around the square. Even without Optimus's presence, these Guards focused on monitoring the scene, observing the tourists with hands never far from their pistols, batons, or blades.

Flicking his attention from them to the tourists. Moonwing caught snippets of dialogue and took in the various body forms. His gaze lingered on two bots fawning over the most common of city animals, taking pictures and speaking in a Cybertronian dialect that he was unfamiliar with.

Out of curiosity, he mumbled to Smokescreen, "Where are they from?"

"Huh? Oh." The Autobot pushing him glanced to where his head was inclined. Listening for a moment, Smokescreen said, "Erm, one of the old colonies I guess. The Hub? I'm not sure, but I can say that they sure aren't Velocitronian."

Moonwing turned his head away and absentmindedly read the signs of the shops on the street. They pressed on along the sidewalk, sliding carefully through the crowds of shoppers and bumbling visitors. Beside them, vehicles like those he had seen from the window now roared past them. Up close, they were even less attractive. The onslaught of brakes screeching and speeders ripping by stressed his spark, and when they drifted and swerved partially onto the sidewalks, it was all he could do but clutch the card and close his eyes.

The signs and interiors of the shops were used as distractions for the jumps of pulse. After a time, they reached their destination of the Iaconian public warpstation. Joining a line, they waited for a short time until Smokescreen retrieved the card from Moonwing. With a tap against the scanner, his predetermined coordinates were received. The portal flashed to life anew, then soon they appeared on a flat square of metal.

Fixated before them was a granite-coloured building, neither tall nor particularly wide, but welcoming in its modesty. It was just another ordinary day, with Smokescreen taking him to school and accompanying him to every class. A sign by the road read, Kalis Elementary School, and its title was also printed above the school's entrance.

Smokescreen pushed Moonwing through the halls that were so pleasantly heated, and tranquil. Knowing the schedule, Smokescreen deposited him on time among the Newsparks already in class. Then, he strolled to the back and pulled out his phone.

Moonwing watched him take out the device again. He wondered why Smokescreen was so occupied with it, since his hands were always on it whenever they weren't pushing him places. He turned back to his desk just as Smokescreen, not yet touching games or other chats, fulfilled his duty and messaged Optimus.

Got him to school. He asked about a dialect again today, but didn't say anything else. It still looks like he's afraid of drivers, but he's doing fine.

It was more of a report, since Optimus would not answer him nor did he have a need to. After the regular update, Smokescreen switched back to usual activities. He glanced at Moonwing occasionally, acting as though he wasn't really spying on him. Smokescreen kept pretending he was too bored with the lessons to bother listening to them. As far as Moonwing knew, Smokescreen was just attached to his social media.

Smokescreen did see that Moonwing looked bored as well. Every time he was in language class, he would stop paying attention and start searching the Datanet to teach himself something else. Standard Cybertronian and its complex grammar just came to Moonwing too easily. Now, Smokescreen peered closely at what he was searching, seeing that Moonwing was looking up the unique vocabulary of other Cybertronian dialects.

The chime signaled the end of this lesson. Smokescreen gathered him then, pushing the hovering chair in the direction of the next class. On the way, Moonwing couldn't help but report to him, "It wasn't Hubian."

"What wasn't?" Smokescreen feigned ignorance.

"Those tourists."

Smokescreen's tone implied that his gaze was wandering. "Oh, so you just learned that in class?"

Moonwing specified, "In the classroom, but not in the lesson…"

Then Moonwing abandoned the subject, believing that his bodyguard didn't care. He decided that Smokescreen didn't even remember their previous and short conversation.

The next class of the day's four had always been his least favourite. The Cybertronian Culture course was essential, however, for it aided the Newsparks in supporting themselves after graduation. The history class was more interesting as it at least provided videos and images. Sometimes, it was of shocking things, but other times they just learned about the new animals emerging on Cybertron that used to exist in the past. And Moonwing liked small creatures, ever since Smokescreen gave him the hobby of trying to spot new ones whenever they were outside. Though he had never touched an animal before, Moonwing hoped that he would get to in the future.

Moonwing was ready to drag himself through the lesson, distracting himself as he had before. It was never his assumption that anything would change, and he did not notice the change at first when it came. Moonwing did not see the new bot striding to the front of the class as Smokescreen tucked him in behind a desk. Smokescreen was sharp-eyed however, and soon breathed behind him, "Really? A vehicon teach?"

Vehicon? Moonwing flicked his head up. A Decepticon trooper?

Just as reported, a vehicon was stationed before them with a posture straightened from silent confidence. Due to a face incapable of movement, it was impossible to determine its mood or even where it looked. Suppressing a twitch, Moonwing listened to Smokescreen, who added in a whisper, "What could a vehicon know about Cybertronian culture anyway? They weren't forged here or anything. Weird, right?"

Moonwing whispered, "I heard that thousands were made in the War… Is it true that all vehicons were Decepticons?"

"Oh yeah." Smokescreen's speech, although still quiet, spiked with enthusiasm. "Man, back on Earth, Team Prime dented up hundreds of these guys! Never seemed to be an end to them, though they weren't ever hard to beat. They're terrible shots, for one…"

The discomfort in Moonwing was turning into a pang of fear, even as Smokescreen went on in his amusement. Moonwing remembered the history teacher talking about the cruel atrocities committed by Decepticons. With Smokescreen's confirmation, that meant this new teacher would have fought for the Decepticon cause, hoping to create a society of treachery and murder.

Serving that merciless gladiator, Megatron…

Smokescreen lingered for a while longer, and Moonwing felt comforted by the weapon he carried.

If there is a bomb or something… he will save us.

After seeing that the room had been properly filled, the vehicon turned its black face and took them all in with a red, slitted eye. Moonwing froze when the head stopped its rotation in order to face his direction. Although, he realized it was not him that the silver jet vehicon was watching, but Smokescreen, who was now heading to the back of the room. Still, without revealing emotion, its gaze lingered.

And based upon Smokescreen's boasting, Moonwing felt certain that the vehicon was seething in rage. Decepticons were marked by violent emotions, he thought, and this one in particular had more reason to attack Smokescreen. After all, a silver jet vehicon, he had learned, were some of the very few surviving vehicons of the devious Starscream's armada on Earth. It appeared that vehicon was looking directly at the reason why only a single-digit number of them remained alive.

Did it hear at all that Smokescreen said?

The pause seemed to last for an eternity while dread bubbled up inside of Moonwing. Even if vehicons were as unskilled as Smokescreen explained, there was no telling what sort of weapons a vehicon could have or support from Decepticon criminals hiding in Cybertron's social and physical underworld. In the new society, there was no telling what such a staring vehicon was capable of.

However, Moonwing was absolutely unaware of the humor Smokescreen was taking from it all. Of course, Smokescreen was amused by the idea of a vehicon being a teacher, but the situation was more hilarious than that. Moonwing was always nervous and shy, but Smokescreen stifled a laugh now in seeing how frightened he was getting about a vehicon, the most minor of threats to him.

Smokescreen often forgot who he was dealing with, since he didn't have bad history with the war criminal. Even if this made Smokescreen the ideal and unbiased guardian, he couldn't help but chuckle internally at the day's surprise. When Moonwing twisted back to check him, Smokescreen threw on a reassuring face to calm him, but the entertained thoughts continued.

Starscream, terrified of a single vehicon! A vehicon of all things!

Such words would certainly form part of the story that Smokescreen would tell the others later.