Intoxication: n. poisoning by a toxic substance; the impaired condition caused by use of alcohol or drug or other chemical substance

"I can't wait to get out of this Primus damned place!" exclaimed Skywarp.

It was just one of the many times he had complained about the Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology in the last three vorns they had spent stuck in it, but today his voice was elated, one filled with hope and excitement for the future rather than bitter despair. The purple Seeker danced about his room now, items winking in and out of existence as he threw them into his subspace in an erratic fashion which was apparently his way of 'packing'. He looked like a sparkling in a toy shop, his joy at his new lease of freedom making everything seem new and necessary, and Thundercracker had to stop him every now and again to tell him: no, he didn't need to take a chair, they surely had those in Iacon. And no, he didn't need to take five cans of polish, and if he really wanted to, then one of his six brushes was going to have to go.

That was how most of their interactions had proceeded in the last few cycles, and Thundercracker was starting to feel tired.

Truth be told, whilst he was as relieved as his friend to be free from the prison that had been their Academy, he did not quite share the other's optimistic hopes for the future. It was Starscream who had summoned them, after all, and whilst he supposed he should be grateful, he felt certain that he would have reasons not to be in the future.

Skywarp was perched now on the edge of his berth, beaming happily around at his now bare room with a subspace presumably crammed with non-essentials. "I can't wait!" He sang, optics positively sparkling with delight. "No more of that slagging Ditch, making me fly on empty around campus. No more 'teleport here, teleport there, teleport ten times in a row!' and all that slag. No more of that aft Trailbreaker… Primus slag it, I hate that mech. And best of all: no more rules!"

"You still have to obey the law, Warp," said Thundercracker somewhat pedantically. He was staring out of the window, listening to his trinemate's prattle with only half an audial. The rest of his thoughts were far away in Iacon, with their trine leader, and his Spark felt heavy with the very thought.

Skywarp bounced on his berth, enjoying the squeaking creaks it made. "Yeah? Well, even the laws aren't as strict as fragging Ditch." He paused, suddenly thoughtful. "Hey… You don't suppose I should go and give him a parting present of some kind, do you?"

"No," said Thundercracker without missing a beat.

His wingmate's face fell. "Why not?"

"Because we're done here," said the older Seeker, his voice heavy with bitterness. "It took Starscream long enough, but at least we're on our way out of here. If you try to throw one of your stupid pranks before you leave though, they'll coin you as a danger to society, and you'll just be giving them another reason to keep you for longer."

The squeaking stopped momentarily as Skywarp mulled over the terrifying implications. Then, just as quickly, the bouncing screeches gained momentum again. "You're no fun, TC," he pouted, wings flattening.

"No, I'm not. And stop doing that, it's annoying."

The berth settled, and Skywarp fidgeted uncomfortably in the silence. This lasted for a few, blissful klicks. Then, unable to help himself: "Can you believe Screamer actually made it into that fancy Academy at Iacon?"

"Mmh," said Thundercracker.

Undeterred, Skywarp continued. "I always knew he was smart, but I didn't think he'd actually pull it off. He was on the news for a bit, wasn't he? It's so slagging weird."

The blue Seeker grunted vaguely.

"I can't wait for the three of us to fly again," remarked Skywarp, swinging his legs on the berth. Squeak. Squeak. "Uh, don't get me wrong, TC, it's great flying with you. But it's just not the same without Screamer, you know? Seekers are designed to fly in threes."

Squeak. Squeak.

"Warp," snapped Thundercracker, "I said stop doing that!"

… Squeak?

Thundercracker slowly rotated his chair round and gave his trinemate a look.

"Jeez, what's got yourexhaust port in such a twist today?" Skywarp complained bitterly, folding his arms across his cockpit. "You've just been moping for the past few orns, when you've been wanting to get out of here just as much as I have. What's the big deal, huh? You're still holding a grudge with Starscream?"

"No, look, I…" The Seeker heaved a sigh, rubbing his helm with frustration. "It's not that. Well, maybe it is a little bit, but I just…"

He stared down at his servos, struggling to put his feelings into words.

"… He should have been here with us."

Skywarp erupted into laughter. "Frag, TC. Starscream wishes he could be here with us in this Primus-forsaken Pit, but he can't help that he's not an Outlier like us." Still chuckling, he moved off the berth to sling an arm casually around the other's shoulders. "You think he's happy about that? That out of the three of us, he's the only one without any special abilities whatsoever? You know what he's like. All this top-scoring, first military-caste scientist slag – he's just jealous, that's all."

Thundercracker frowned. What Skywarp said made sense – which was unusual, since he was supposed to be the rational one – but still his Spark churned at the thought of seeing Starscream again. "We've not seen him for three whole vorns." He growled, his servos clenching into fists. "I still remember the first time they started testing your teleportation abilities. Primus, that was the Pits. Slaggit, they almost killed you – and when I called him all that fragger could think about was his own credentials and career."

Unbidden, the memories rose again: the glassy container, where Skywarp stood, swaying with fatigue; the cold, unfeeling optics of the overseeing officer and his harsh bark of command; the bright purple flash as his trinemate tried, in futility, to teleport once more – only to collapse, screaming, as energon pooled out of the sockets where his left arm and leg used to be.

"Aw slag, that didn't even hurt," tried Skywarp, forcing a weak smile. "All Outliers go through it. I mean, it was good in a way. The training did kinda sorta help – I've got much better stamina than before, and now that I know my own limits –"

"But what if it had been your Spark, Warp?!" interrupted Thundercracker, his helm snapping up to glare at his wingmate. "They don't care about us here. Slag, he doesn't care about the two of us either! It's always been about him and his stupid ideals. When has he spared even a single klick to think of us?"

"Hey, c'mon 'Cee, you've always known that Starscream's a self-centred slagger who'd never let anything get in the way of what he wants," said his trinemate, lightly punching him in the wing. "And look, he did get us out of here eventually. We're still a trine, after all."

Thundercracker still did not look convinced. "I'm worried he's just using us in more experiments," he muttered, darkly. "What if it's just the same as being here? I don't trust what he's doing. All that talk about fighting Functionism, but he's still sat guzzling funds from the Senate for his supposed 'research'… I just don't know, Warp."

And he hit his helm into the desk and muffled a groan of frustration.

His wingmate patted him awkwardly. "Jeez, you always think too much of everything, TC," he sighed, smiling amusedly. "Look, I get it. I don't understand Starscream's grand scheme of revolution either, or whatever it is he's trying to prove about the castes by becoming a scientist and all that slag. I just know he's smarter than the both of us, and he's our trine leader. He'll know what he's doing."

He waited a moment, but Thundercracker still did not move, and the purple Seeker stifled a groan of exasperation. He wasn't good with words, and he hated consoling a mopey, overthinking Thundercracker, who was generally inconsolable. When his trinemate still hadn't budged after a solid breem, Skywarp decided he had had enough. Thinking to himself that actions were louder anyway – or however the saying goes – he gripped the other Seeker's wing and teleported.

The blue Seeker squawked in surprise as the desk and chair he had been sitting on promptly vanished, and he fell inelegantly upon his aft. When he finally found his bearings, he found himself staring at a bright neon sign that declared: 'Hex Happy Hour – 2 High Grade Cubes for the Price of 1!' accompanied by Skywarp's beaming face.

"C'mon TC, let's get some high grade and dancing into our systems," offered his wingmate, extending a servo. "We're going to Iacon, after all, where the booze is good and the femmes are even better! We might as well grab some oil here before we leave. There, that oughta cheer even youup, you grumpy slagger."

Thundercracker rolled his optics, but accepted the other's gesture and allowed himself to be pulled up. "Fine," he grumbled, smiling despite himself. "But you're paying."

"Obviously," exclaimed Skywarp with confidence. "It's my treat this time, I swear."

(… But by the time the night was over, it had most definitely turned into Thundercracker's treat again.)

Maccadam's Old Oil House was unusually packed for a work night, and Skyfire found his great bulk completely unsuited for the crowds.

He waited uncomfortably for an opening, his huge frame forced against the door by the mass of writhing mechs attracted to the Oil House's old disco machine. Eventually, using his great height to his advantage, he located Venture and Trailfire in a darker corner of the Oil House, huddled around a small table. Trailfire glimpsed him first and waved a golden arm, gesturing for him to come over. Skyfire tried awkwardly to acknowledge the greeting, but as he did so, his elbow knocked into the helm of a small red mech who had been busy chatting up a nearby femme.

"Ow!" exclaimed the little mech, rubbing his helm and whipping round furiously to glare at Skyfire. "Watch what you're doing!"

"Sorry," said Skyfire, trying to make himself as small as possible.

The mech's optics did not move from him. "Slagging glitchin' fliers," he grumbled, but the words weren't quite hidden enough under the music. "Watch your wings!" He added, louder, as Skyfire turned to avoid a passionate couple and almost knocked into him again.

The shuttle did not miss the other's offensive slur against his altmode, but he resolved not to let it affect him and turned his back on the rude mech to approach his friends' table. "Hey," he shouted over the throbbing beat of the music as he fought his way towards them. "Sorry I'm late! I was talking to Starscream."

Skyfire's two friends, both automobiles, shared a glance at the mention of that name, as though engaging in some private joke. "Oh, that freak?" chuckled Trailfire, "what did he want from you this time?"

"He's not a freak," said Skyfire immediately, pulling up a seat. "And not a lot. We were just chatting generally and we ran over time. He was telling me about his graduation speech at his old college again."

Trailfire burst into uproarious laughter, slapping the table with glee. "Oh slag," he swore, "that must be, what, the fifth time now?"

"We keep telling you to stay away from him, Skyfire," added Venture, his scowling reaction a stark contrast to his friend's. "You saw how he was when you tried to introduce him to us. Don't buy into his supposed 'anti-Functionism' slag, he just hates non-fliers."

"Too true," agreed Trailfire, not giving Skyfire a chance to speak. "You're alright, Skyfire, you're a decent mech through and through, but that Starscream? He's the literal personification of the type of fliers that us mechs hate. He's the reason fliers have such a bad rep."

"Yeah. Get out whilst you still can, else you'll be roped in with him."

Convinced in the accuracy of their verdict, the two vehicular mechs downed their respective high grades as though the conversation was concluded.

But Skyfire, despite recognising the truth in the others' words, felt obliged to jump to his research partner's defence. "I know where you guys are coming from," he admitted, quietly, thinking of the little red mech from just moments ago. "But I don't think you fully understand Starscream's… our side of the story." He looked down at his servos, so much larger than either of his friends. "It's too easy to judge when you've not experienced it…"

"What did you say?" hollered Trailfire, leaning over the table. "Sorry, Sky, but you gotta speak up a bit. The slagging music's way too loud and I totally missed like, the majority of that."

"I said –" began Skyfire, louder, then changed his mind. "Never mind," he gestured hastily, giving both mechs a quick smile. "How have you two been?"

"Alright," Venture shrugged, smiling ironically. "We've just finished the training, and now they're giving us some easy jobs to get started with, like patrols and directing traffic and stuff. It'll get harder later, of course, when we'll be dealing with real criminals, but I can handle the odd drunkard on the street right now." He jerked a thumb in Trailfire's direction, and added, jokingly: "This slagger is giving me the most trouble, to tell you the truth."

"Hey!" protested Trailfire, giving the other mech a playful punch which Venture returned.

Skyfire laughed at their antics. "I see you guys have the reformatting done too." He observed, pointing out at a new, unfamiliar ridge running along the two mechs' arms – like some kind of stand or support for new equipment.

Venture glanced down. "Oh slag, yeah. Forgot about that. Yeah, they added a few bits and bobs here and there. It's so we can have guns and weapons fitted in our frames later."

"They let me keep my microscope tube for now though – said it might look enough like a gun to frighten the drunks away," chipped in Trailfire, laughing with all the enthusiasm of a drunk himself. "But the best bit is – we've got sirens!"

To prove his point, he flashed the blue and red lights fitted upon his back.

Skyfire smiled, but not before noticing Venture's somewhat bitter expression. "Haven't your brothers come around to the news yet?" He asked, gently.

The dark blue mech huffed and shook his helm, turning to reach for another high-grade cube. "I already told you, I don't think they ever will," he said, sullenly. "It's already been two deca-cycles since we graduated. We… They've always been a family of scientists. And now that I'm a…" his voice quavered, and Skyfire almost lost it in the background music, "… a cop, they're treating me like the rest of them do – like a mech from the disposable class. No one would give a slag whether I lived or died."

"Aw, no! Sky and I definitely do!" Trailfire chirped, his high spirits – enhanced by his drink – undampened even as his companion sank into a deeper gloom. "It's alright, Vent. You're fine staying at my place, and you know you'll always be welcome."

"Yeah, thanks buddy," said Venture, his own mood perhaps exaggerated by the influences of high grade, and he took another sip.

Skyfire watched his two friends with an expression broken by sympathy and sorrow. "You're always welcome at mine, too," he said, placing a servo comfortingly upon his friend's arm.

Venture nodded, looking moved. "Thank you," he murmured, earnestly, then shook himself. "Aren't you ordering anything?" He asked, turning his attention back on to Skyfire.

The shuttle shook his head. "The queue's too long," he said, glancing back at the throng of mechs behind him. "Anyway, I'll need to go back early; Starscream and I have an inspection from the Science Council tomorrow, and I'll need to be sober for that."

Trailbreaker barked a laugh. "I can just imagine ol' Screamer's face," he guffawed, downing his cube once again, "when you come stumbling in drunk as anything. Primus, that would be hilarious. I bet he'd never think you're the type."

Skyfire smiled, but despite his friend's giggles, Venture remained solemn. "It's the inspection on progress they do every two deca-cycles, isn't it?" He remarked, thoughtfully, his optics staring unseeingly over Skyfire's broad wings at the clump of frames twisting in time to the music. "I suppose he – the flyboy, that is – will be talking all about those Outliers and how much progress you'll be making now you've got some real biological weapons at hand?"

That phrase… Skyfire twitched in spite of himself at the words. "I know you doubt Starscream's integrity, Vent," he said, defensively, "but don't doubt mine. We're only calling it that to appease the Senate, but you know my aim – our aim – is to achieve equality, not war."

Venture's optic ridges knotted together. "I know, Skyfire," he murmured, blue optics gazing, piercingly, into the shuttle's. "But I just wanted to warn you not to be led down the wrong route by that mech. He's dangerous, I can feel it."

Skyfire met the other's gaze with determination. "Don't worry," he said, reassuringly. "Despite all appearances, Starscream is very passionate about his cause. And I will keep him on the straight and narrow, I promise."

His words were confident, and when Skyfire thought about it he realised just how true he believed them to be. Yes, Starscream could be temperamental, opinionated – rightly or wrongly – and vicious when he wanted to be. But the shuttle still thought he saw something in the Seeker that was so much more than that, and he did not think it was pure naïve idealism which had forced that image upon him.

Venture stared at him a moment longer, his expression as dark as his plating, before abruptly releasing a heavy cycle of air from his fans. "… You're right," he sighed, a weary smile creeping over his faceplates. "Maybe I'm just jealous that he'sthere, at Iacon, doing what I've always thought I was destined for, and that I'm here as insignificant cannon fodder for the police force." He turned his faceplates away, and both of them turned to look at Trailfire, who had, at some point during their conversation slumped on to the table and was now snoring away quite contentedly despite the blasting music in the background.

Venture was silent for just a moment more. "Trailer and I are proud of you, Skyfire," he said, suddenly, "for getting where we couldn't. And for doing that despite all the… You know. You being a, um," here, he dipped his helm, almost ashamed to utter the words, "… flier and all that. So, yeah. Don't let my drunken rants get to you. You just go back there and you keep going with the research that matters to you, no matter who it's with. And I know you'll do great." He lifted his high-grade cube, tilting it in offer. "A toast to you, buddy. What do you say?"

The shuttle smiled, and took the cube in his servo. "Thank you, Vent," he nodded, his tone warm with gratitude. "I hope Starscream and I can both do you proud."

And from the bottom of his Spark, Skyfire was sure it would happen. For if anyone could change the world, he thought, then it would surely be Starscream.