Blurr is so focused on his project he almost misses some important political developments.
Luckily there is the rest of the world out there to remind him that.


The street racers had ended up being a rather mixed bunch. Some had welcomed him openly, others not so much but he remained hopeful when a couple of his new acquaintances had practically dragged him out of his dusty workshop and to a nightspot. He had barely had the time to wipe off his armor.

It had been a long time since Blurr had been to a place this boisterous but considering that it was going to become his future occupation desire for industrial espionage won over social awkwardness.

Somebot bumped into Blurr's side, making him spill the energon, as he proceeded through the gyrating and overcharged crowd, he got elbowed in the back, someone stepped on his toepiece, a shout from an overcharged patron left his audial ringing. As far as nightspots went, very little had changed and yep, someone had just groped his aft. To avoid the most of it Blurr secluded himself to a shady corner and took note of the interior with almost clinical detachment. He looked at the speakers and assessed their quality and placement specifics, observed the staff dynamics. Then, looking at a couple of dirty-looking energon cubes on the table before him he thought back to health permits and made a mental note to ask Ratchet about those.

While Blurr was deep in thought about volume regulations during off-cycle somemech glided to stand next to him a hair too close to be just casual. Oh for the love of…he was not up for casual flirting tonight or any night, for that matter. Blurr moved away to examine the lighting fixtures. Somemech from his group offered him a drink, the rest of the night Blurr put down to overcharged shenanigans and left it at that, no regrets.

He was roused next morning by a helmache and a flurry of pings from his ex-colleagues, some of which he had not expected to hear from again. His first thought was that he had done something punishable whilst in his overcharged state, Primus knew he had not had higrade in ages.

With zero enthusiasm Blurr scrolled through the messages. First it had been a small ping from Jazz - which had become almost normal with them, the mech cared; then Cliffjumper, which was unusual and then, surprisingly Sentinel himself, finally a small note from Bumblebee just dropped into his inbox to tip the scales of his curiosity.

Groggily he rolled over on his mat and stared at the ceiling; he still preferred to recharge on the floor. Lately he spent less and less time in his home, giving preference to the open lofty area situated just above the main area of the oil house. It doubled as storage, berthroom and office. Giving a long and bored groan he sat up, resigned that his morning was going to start with busywork after all.

Jazz's note contained only one sentence "Check the news".

Cliffjumper had sent something along the lines of cordial evening at command center for some event or another...what? Blurr just deleted that message, he was so done with command center anyway.

He opened Bumblebee's note foregoing the order if only to delay the unpleasantness he anticipated in Sentinel's message. He frowned. How uncouth, it had been from Sentinel as well but sent from Bee's credentials just to make sure he read it.

Groaning, he did not bother reading the remainder of messages and instead heeded Jazz's advice and craned his helm outside the window to see what the news' billboard closest to his place said.

Clearly he was seeing wrong, he recalibrated his optics and tried again. First, a purple sign he had come to associate with Decepticons, then bold purple letters, stating something along the lines that Purple was the new color of peace. Baffled he pinged Jazz.

-"The frag?!"

-"Rise and shine, we are not at war anymore."

-"And I'm Unicron's uncle."

-"You got the invitation yea?"

-"Deleted it."

-"Hate to call you that but you are considered a veteran so, well, honoring the dead on both parties and all that..."

Blurr's processor stalled - "The 'cons are in Iacon?!"

-"Not Just the 'Cons, mech, their high-slaggin' command."

Blurr gulped and Jazz sensed the unease on the other side of the connection. -"I'll be there and so will Blaster and Ratch, furthermore we got the home field advantage."

-"Can't see what might go wrong there." Blurr sounded as unconvinced as he felt, decepticons Always had something brewing.

-"And that, my mech, is why we need you. I am sorry to drag you into this, but it is a gesture of peace as much as demonstration of power."

The conversation had left Blurr tapping his stylus. He had hoped that the opening of his bar would not coincide with any other big event and he had been wrong.

Resigned, he placed the orders for various energon blends and set off to washracks. Despite himself he was curious about what happened on the streets when the news truly hit.

Perched on his observation spot outside one of the sites vending energon jellies in the old docks district he watched as mecha finally took notice of newsboards. Confusion, anger, relief - that meant he had to be hasty with his own projects. Chances were mecha wanted to gather in places and discuss this and what a better place to discuss events with friends than a bar.

The peaceful memorial service for those fallen in the war or "Grand event of great consequence" as he had settled to calling it among friends, took place just days after the bar's scheduled opening. Skepticism about the goodwill of the both factions gave rise to ludicrous theories that the universe would implode on itself on the day when that many Autobots and Decepticons gathered in one place without hostilities. Smirking, Blurr jotted down the idea for the opening theme.

-"Welcome to the end of the world party!" Blurr greeted his former colleagues who had been the first to arrive for the opening of his establishment. Jazz had prepared a set of poignant performances to make fun of the situation and Blaster had his latest mixtape ready for a spin. Ratchet and the others settled themselves into the funky oil-drums turned booths and sipped spiced energon contemplatively.

Gradually more mecha trickled in one by one or in groups. Blurr greeted the newcomers and entertained the onlookers with bar tricks whilst preparing energon orders with flair. Those bar-tending courses Rung had initially suggested as an activity to take his mind off stress did not go to a waste after all.

His patience was tested only once that night when an overcharged mech was overly insistent about discussing the political situation personally with Blurr which culminated in the blue speedster actually yelling at the mech that he was not inclined to discuss political matters at the moment. That made Ratchet and Ironhide chortle in their booth.

In general though, a look at the ledger indicated that it had been a good night. Blurr had actually earned back what he had spent for the evening and there was a little extra overhead which he could invest into something else. Ratchet and Ironhide had excused themselves early. Jazz apologized for having to leave right after his performance - something small but important had come up. The bar slowly emptied and it was Blaster who was the last to leave the establishment.

-"Need some help cleaning up?"

-"Na, I'll do it tomorrow. Recharge now." Blurr stretched and yawned, content with the results of the opening night. "And thank you for coming over and just being there."

-"We got your back, Zippy."

Blurr good-naturedly bumped his fist against Blaster's forearm. -"Tease. See you at the big important meeting thing?"

-"Oh, you mean just reaffirming the first somewhat serious peace treaty since the beginning of this Pit-forsaken war?"

-"Heh, I'll believe it when I see it." Blurr shrugged.

Several days later a small parcel arrived at Blurr´s door. It was square and flat and surprisingly lightweight. Blurr blinked and chuckled in delight when he saw its contents. Embroidered on an earth-style canvas stood the winged phrase of the opening evening. "I will not discuss politics with you!"


Blurr is not apolitical per-se, he just hates discussing it with drunk people.

I did not come up with the ´End of the world party´, according to one continuity it was hosted at least 4 consecutive times at Maccadam´s old oil house and at least once by Blurr himself soo, yeah!