It was well into mid morning by the time Draft finally woke up. Normally, he'd be greeted by walls as grey and bleak as his new life was sure to be. But slowly, mind sluggish, Draft realized he wasn't in Ultra Magnus's spare room. Sitting up, he instantly regretted it when a headache hit him harder than one of Springer's fists. What the-
"Oh, you're awake."
He wasn't alone. There was a big blue guy sitting over there, in this...destroyed…room. Huh. Whose quarters were these? And why did they look like Swiss cheese?
Hey, that rhymed. His head hurt.
"I take it you're regretting your life decisions right now?" The stranger chuckled.
"Hurts." Draft grunted.
"Well yeah. You had a ton of highgrade, what'd you expect?"
Draft looked at the floor. "N-Not th-this." Man, what was this? His processor felt like it was on the receiving end of a sledge hammer. And, less importantly, who was this guy?
"Are th-these your quart..ers?" Draft mumbled, stumbling over the correct form of the "these" as opposed to "those".
The mech nodded. "Yes. Sorry it's a bit of a mess right now. Do you remember anything from last cycle?"
"I was at the p-party with...Powerglide? Some..thing fell on m-me." Draft stuttered, looking up as another mech entered the room. "W-What's your na-designation?"
"Streetwise." Streetwise said, forcing himself not to "aww" over how adorably flustered the sparkling was. Baby's first hangover.
The blue mech added, "-and I'm Hot Spot."
"Nice t-to...meet you. I mean, unless I sh-should know you." Draft corrected, rubbing his temple. "W-What am I d-doing here?"
Damn, even through his headache Draft could hear how awful he sounded. Also, Was this the robot version of a hangover? The grey mech who had introduced himself as Streetwise snickered,
"Mech, you were so overcharged I had to pull you and another guy apart. Then you crashed on our couch."
Technically not a lie, and if Draft didn't remember last night, then who were they to tell him? Most flyers were naturally lightweights, so it wasn't hard to imagine he had memory-file corruption.
Hot Spot sincerely hoped this was the case. Primus knew the kid was already traumatized enough as it was, being raised by organics. And after what Powerglide did to him...yeah, it was a good thing Draft didn't remember.
He knew they'd never let Powerglide forget.
"You don't remember?" Hot Spot acted surprised.
"N-no. Sorry?" Draft tried, making a face. "Thanks f-for letting me c-crash."
"Hey, I got something that can help with that," Streetwise offered, recognizing the universal hangover expression. He'd worn it many times himself.
"Please."
Streetwise fished around in his subspace while Hot Spot wondered if Draft always sounded this bad, or if it was just the hangover. Yikes.
Pulling out a sealed cube, Streetwise tossed it lightly to Draft; it was one of First Aid's mixes. The sparkling didn't even question what was in it before breaking the seal and gulping it like it was the best thing since Primus.
/Hot Spot!/ Silverbolt suddenly thundered over the comm. Hot Spot jerked, surprising Draft. He motioned to his audio. "Comm."
/Yes, Silverbolt?/
The only Autobot gestalt leaders were naturally close, and Hot Spot knew the aerialbot's tone was one of frustration rather than fury.
/Are you aware of your subordinates' activities?!/
Using the s-word instead of "brothers". Maybe he'd spoken too soon. /I take it I'm about to be?/
/They have completely destroyed Anode and Powerglide's quarters!/
/What makes you think it was them?/
/Why else would Streetwise ask Anode it's location last cycle? According to security feeds, Streetwise was absent from the party for over a joor./
Hot Spot frowned. Poor Anode. Whatever his brothers did, doubtless the snooty scientist's half of the room had become collateral damage.
/And the security feeds during that time?/
/Have been tampered with./ Silverbolt growled.
Yeah, no slag. Hot Spot had specifically told Blades to do something about the hallway footage (though what they had apparently done afterward was a mystery), because it would have shown Streetwise storming Powerglide's quarters, and later dragging the inebriated sparkling back to theirs. It was a wonder Red Alert wasn't the one breathing down his neck.
/Don't worry, he'll be punished./. Hot Spot lied.
/See to it he is. Silverbolt out./
Hot Spot didn't need someone else telling him what to do with his gestalt, but he didn't begrudge Silverbolt. He'd be just as annoyed if Slingshot or Air Raid messed with someone under his command. Although, Silverbolt would probably never know how much Powerglide deserved it.
Hot Spot quickly got on their team's frequency. /Really guys? Are you sparklings?/
/No, but speaking of him how is he?/ Groove replied immediately.
/Kid's pretty ruffled. Did you guys mess with Powerglide's quarters?/
/Yeah. What, did he go crying to Silverbolt?/ Blades sneered. Powerglide, as a flyer, was under Silverbolt's command the same as Draft.
/No, it was Anode. And obviously you're not. I was just comming to say good job, but if he asks you both got extra cleaning detail for a groon. Compute?/
/No complaints here./
/Sure thing./
/Got it./
/…./
/First Aid?/ Hot Spot fished. He knew their youngest was listening.
/Don't involve me, I was in the medbay the whole time./
"Hey, you want to hit the rec room and get some real energon? Might make your tank settle." Streetwise asked Draft, no sign that he was a part of Hot Spot's group chat.
"Y-yeah, okay." Draft agreed readily enough.
Hence ten minutes later he found himself sandwiched between the two of them. The rec room wasn't nearly as crowded as the night before, and the pleasant hum of conversation was a good contrast to the screaming match talking at the party had been. Draft found himself occasionally peering around Hot Spot's big frame for any sign of a Wrecker or Ultra Magnus. This was the first time he'd failed to follow curfew. That didn't bode well. Hot Spot meanwhile waved an orange mech over.
The mech looked at Draft. "Have we met before? I'm Rotor."
"Hi. Uh, Draft." Draft said. He had to resist the urge to attempt a handshake again. Rotar sat down and immediately said,
"Hot Spot, you hear the news?"
"what news?" Hot Spot asked.
"Elita's back in town."
"Pffft! What?!" Streetwise coughed, having just taken a sip of his ration. He sat up straighter. "Since when?!"
Draft had no idea who Elita was, but he must have been an important guy. Hot Spot chuckled. "I bet that makes Prime happy."
"Forget Prime! That makes me happy. That means the other femmes are back too, right?" Streetwise pressed, shooting a (totally) subtle look at the rec room's entrance. Draft followed his gaze. What was a femme?
Rotor leaned forward conspiratorially. "There's something else. I heard they got a sparkling with them."
Now it was Hot Spot's turn to almost choke on his energon. Streetwise looked likewise suddenly unenthused with the topic, and both couldn't help but give Draft a glance. The flyer was hunched in his seat, his cube now the most fascinating thing in the world.
Rotor failed to notice. "Can you believe it? I can't wait to see the little guy. This is fantastic!"
"Wow, that is just…," Streetwise tried, at a loss for what to say considering current company.
"Crazy." Hot Spot finished for him. Draft didn't comment, still staring clench-jawed at his enegon.
/I think we broke him./ Streetwise commed.
/How would you react?/
/First Aid is gonna kill us./
Hot Spot frowned. /Come on, First Aid couldn't kill a scraplet./
/Fine, then Ultra Magnus is gonna kill us./ Streetwise corrected. While First Aid hadn't told them who rescued Draft, Groove had seen him come off the Wreckers' ship while on monitor duty two weeks ago. It wasn't hard to guess who had enough pull to pull this off.
/ 'Spot, I think he's gonna glitch./
"Isn't that great mech? We got a sparkling on base. What a miracle." Hot Spot laughed, with a smile purposely clapping a hand on the flyer's shoulder. Success! Draft flinched, trance broken.
"Y-yeah."
Actually, Draft didn't know how he felt about that. Sparkling? As in like him? No, not like him, Draft mentally corrected. He was an adult, and he would always be an adult, his people and their ridiculously long lifespans be damned. His musings were cut short when a flyer he recognized from his last training session - Skydive? - came up to their table.
Skydive canted his helm. "Uh, Draft?"
"Yes?"
"You do know we have a scheduled training session in five breems?"
"Crap." Draft muttered, standing up. Hot Spot politely moved aside, wondering what that strange sound meant.
"Come on." Skydive said.
"Alright you femmes, that's enough!"
Silverbolt's voice cut above the CHOOM CHOOM of blaster fire, and eventually people stopped firing rounds. Except Slingshot. Because he'd be damned if his wasn't the last.
"Okay," Silverbolt said, once everyone was paying attention. "I feel like we got some good work done today-"
"-That's because you didn't get shot!" Air Raid laughed, his frame indeed a collage of purple. Slingshot snickered as Silverbolt told him to shut up with his face.
"As I was saying, good work, but there's room for improvement. I know you're saving your best for the 'Cons, but that's no reason to let your guard down. That includes you, Fireflight."
Fireflight had the decency to look sheepish; as compared to Air Raid, who was mostly covered in paint, he was completely covered.
Silverbolt briefly flitted his his optics towards Draft, who was busily finding something of interest on the floor. "Draft, Fireflight, I need to talk to you for an astro-second. The rest of you hit the 'racks. You look as bad as your aim."
There was a smattering of laughter, and with Slingshot's whoop of "Green team best team!" the rest of the guys beat it. Draft's wings drooped in preparation for what was coming. Yeah, he knew he hadn't done so hot. Not sure what Fireflight did. Silverbolt turned his attention on them.
"Fireflight, what was that?" The silver mech started, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If that was a real battle your armor would have more than paint on it. If it was still there."
"I'm really sorry 'Bolt. I didn't mean to lose focus like that."
Draft frowned. How come he could call the commander 'Bolt?
"Just try to pay better attention next time, okay?" Silverbolt said, look softening. He clapped Fireflight's shoulder. "You're dismissed."
Fireflight smiled and nodded, before leaving with a backward glance at Draft. Draft steadied himself at Silverbolt's pointed look. Oh boy.
"Draft. Your performance left...much to be desired."
"Yes, sir." Draft said stiffly. Understatement of the year.
"I don't understand. You're a skilled fighter, but you barely got in five hits today. What happened?"
He was expecting an answer. Draft knew that. Draft also knew he couldn't give him the answer. Truth was, he'd never picked up a Cybertronian weapon before, practice rifle or not. Sure he'd shot a gun on Earth - his cousins were big into hunting - but that was different. The deer never shot back.
"Well?"
"I, uh, g-guess I wasn't thinking s-straight. Sir."
"Not thinking straight gets people killed, rookie." Silverbolt growled, wings hiked. "I expect to be impressed tomorrow."
"Yes sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
Didn't need to tell him twice. Draft turned heel and left like the devil was behind him. Outside the training room, Fireflight fell into step beside him.
"You okay? Silverbolt can get like that sometimes, you shouldn't take it personally."
"Thanks." Draft said peevishly, assuming the mech had listened in on his lame excuse. Fireflight had more paint on him, so how come he got off easy?
"I really like it when we train with the paint, though it's too bad we have to go to the washracks when we're done every time." Fireflight said.
"Yeah…" Draft muttered. Wait, washracks? You know, he'd never actually been there. On that line of thought, Draft realized he hadn't showered since his arrival. He let Fireflight take the lead but only slightly, so it looked like he knew where he was going. Soon enough the green coated flyer palmed open a large door, and Draft followed him in, soaking up this new part of the base in curiosity.
"Shit!" Draft yelped, averting his eyes. Too late. He didn't think he'd get those images out of his mind.
"What's wrong?" Fireflight asked. Draft didn't look up, optics glued to the floor, when he quickly replied,
"I forgot, I have t-to go do...s-something. Bye-"
Draft spun around. Only to come face to face with Twin Twist.
"Draft? How's it going! You know Ultra Magnus is looking everywhere for you?" The wrecker greeted. "The frag are you covered in paint for?"
"Oh, hi uh, t-training exercise," Draft replied, preoccupied with calculating the best way to slip past him. But then the blue and white mech roped an arm around his neck and steered him further inside, leaving a befuddled Fireflight in their wake.
"So really, where have you been? Did you go to that party the other orn? 'Cause if not, you really missed out!" He laughed, finally releasing Draft to mess with a control panel on the wall. He paused, maybe noticing Draft's discomfort.
"What? You shy or something?"
"You want me to…." Draft gaped, optic's widening in horror. "N-No way."
The wash racks weren't what he'd been expecting. There were a variety of buttons and control panels on the walls and a large pool at one end in which several people were currently soaking; Draft figured it must be filled with cleanser or something. The floor had lots of drains, and there were shower heads a plenty; all in all, it looked very nice.
Just no stalls….
"Oh please, who cares? We're all the same parts underneath." Twin Twist said, already beginning to remove his armor to expose the scarred protoform underneath. It was true, Cybertronians did all look similar under their armor (Draft was sure there was a metaphor in there somewhere), but the Earth mech was doing his damned best not to discover how similar.
It was indecent, immodest, it was-
"Why in the allspark are you still standing there? Right now if Ironhide called you a grease stain it would be a description not an insult." Twin Twist joked, but he was looking at him funny.
Thinking fast, Draft said, "It's just, I d-don't know how to...to work these-...," He motioned to the control panel in excuse.
Twin Twist looked confused, but the expression quickly darkened.
"You don't know how to work these are you serious? Am I correct then, in assuming, you haven't been in here before?" He said. He'd noticed the curious if somewhat flustered way Draft eyed the room and put two and two together.
"I…yes! I m-mean, not really...," Draft fibbed, scooting towards the entrance. "I think I'll wait. Till it's less c-crowded."
"Oh no you don't." Twin Twist growled, grabbing one of Draft's wings as he tried to escape. "Quit being stupid."
"Oww, fragger!" Draft snapped.
"Hey, what's going on?"
The two stopped their bickering at Springer's question. The green helicopter was standing in front of them, having already been in here, and Draft immediately looked away as decency and his upbringing demanded. Springer was unarmored too.
"Ask him. The glitch won't perform standard maintenance Springer, he hasn't in a deca-cycle."
A deca-cycle was the equivalent of two weeks in Earth time, nearly as long as he'd been on base. Springer's optics widened, and he looked to Draft for confirmation of such an outlandish claim. The youngling refused to look at him.
"Draft, is that true? Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you." Springer said. Reluctantly it seemed, Draft met his optics and only his optics.
"Yes."
"And why not?" Springer asked, suddenly like Twin Twist very annoyed. When they first rescued the sparkling, he'd refused to come to terms with it and attempted to starve himself. "If this is another one of your stupid games to get us to take you back to-"
"Shhh." Twin Twist hissed, cutting him off. The wash racks were decently crowded this time of orn, anyone could be listening. Draft's origins were to remain on the down low of they wanted to rehabilitate him. Springer knew that.
"It's not...I'm not trying to kill m-myself." Draft hissed. Again.
"Then what is the problem?" Springer demanded.
Draft scowled, looking at the floor in sudden embarrassment. Ummmmmm-
"I can't."
"Can't what?"
"Y-You know. Shower, or, uh, do m-maintenance. You know what I mean."
Springer and Twin Twist shared a mystified look. "Why not?"
"Because there's other p-people in here."
"Yeah. So?" Twin Twist said. That hardly seemed like a good reason to forgo a hot oil bath. Who gave a frag? "It's not even that crowded right now. There's plenty of room."
"No, It's just...not right. To see people. Without any cloth-armor on." Draft stammered.
Springer rolled his optics. For the love of- "Is this some stupid organic thing?"
"You're such a glitch-head Draft, I'll never understand you." Twin Twist laughed. "Don't people on Dirt take showers?"
They did. In fact, twice as often as Cybertronians, so it wasn't like personal hygiene was a foreign concept. He just believed getting naked in front of, like, a bazillion people was wrong, as it should be. It was these assholes who were nuts.
"Draft, maybe that's how people operate on Dirt, but it's not how we do things here. Take off your armor."
When Draft failed to move, Springer stepped forward. "Now."
"B-But-...!"
"Don't make me get Impactor and Roadbuster in here."
Draft bit his lip, he knew it was futile, the same way he'd learned starving himself wouldn't be allowed. Like Ultra Magnus, Springer made good on his threats.
They'd done it before, too, when they first kidnapped him - taken his clothes. Draft had been as mortified as they were, for similar yet different reasons. To them, he'd gone his whole life walking around unarmored. To him, actual armor was something you donned for battle then took off, like a knight or a soldier, different from clothes in that you didn't just walk around in it in your free time.
Aware of his audience, Draft reluctantly did as was asked. "Happy?" He hissed when he was done. "S-Stop looking at me you pedophiles."
Twin Twist officially lost it, causing several people to look up at the howling laughter (Draft scowled; there was nothing funny about this humiliation). Eventually Twin Twist managed to reel it in, though he kept giggling every now and then throughout Springer's explanations.
"-can change the temperature up to 60 degrees difference with this." Springer was instructing. "Right side increases it, left side decreases. This panel over here controls the ratio of solvent to water that comes out. Any questions?"
"Can you t-two fuck off?" Draft snarled, so embarrassed.
"Watch your language youngling." Springer snapped, not about to be threatened by some neglected sparking.
Draft scowled, but he wasn't about to start throwing punches like he wanted in here. The two of them outnumbered him and they'd make a scene. When Springer and Twin Twist were satisfied he was actually washing off they left him too it, the latter still giggling. Draft's scowl stayed firmly on his face while he showered. Even though a part of him was secretly relieved to be getting clean, he was too embarrassed to admit it.
He hated this place.
Eventually he finished his "maintenance", or whatever the hell Twin Twist like to call it. He kept scowling the whole time, expression the only foul thing on his now squeaky clean frame. Guess he'd head back to his room now that he'd been sufficiently humiliated. Fireflight, Skydive, Slingshot, and Air Raid had disappeared to go do something with Silverbolt the second they got done drying each other off, leaving Draft to walk alone with his thoughts.
Impress him? Impress him? How on Ear-...Cybertron was he supposed to impress Silverbolt tomorrow? He was only good at flying and fighting because of his time on Earth; he'd naturally been drawn to Judo and even some gymnastics (which was apparently a form of torture among his kind, go figure), and flying here was a breeze compared to the weather he'd traversed at home. Bet none of them ever flew in a hurricane.
What was he going to do?
He failed to notice the yellow ghost haunting him, unaware that the washracks had more than one entrance and that he should have been on guard.
He never stood a chance.
Sunstreaker pounced, snarling "Not so funny now, is it?!" as he jabbed something sharp into his neck, and the world faded to black.
I'm back and happy New Years! So yeah, I decided chapter four could use some changes. And Anodythe( - you thought.
Hope ya'll enjoy!