A/N: I'm publishing this chapter a bit later in the morning than usual… XD I had a long breakfast :D Thank you all for continuing to follow the story! Please Enjoy and Review!
To SEZwho94: You pretty much hit it on the nose! :D snobs indeed X) I'm glad you agree with my decision concerning the father ^_^ Thank you for all your wonderful reviews!
To Vivienne Grainger: Oh no I can't believe I did that right at the end of the chapter! D: I was keeping such a close eye on it, I guess my brain failed me at that last part XD Your comments are always so uplifting, thank you!
Thanks also to my other reviewers: thepheonixqueen and Crossblade's Switch ^_^
"Aaaaaah! You –you crazy-aft glitch!" Breakdown's petrified screams are lost in the noise of the rushing traffic on the speedway below as he is dangled over it from a pedestrian bridge. "I-I told you! I don't know nothin'!"
"Like the pit you don't! Now either you start talking or I'll make sure the mess you make down there will take a deca-cycle to clean off –at least what's left to find!" Minerva releases one of the hyperventilating mech's pedes, keeping a loose grip on the other. Her visage is one of pure fury. "Every klik of this running around is another klik wasted while my kid's missing. I'm beginning to think you're not worth the weight and my arm's starting to cramp." She releases him but catches him by the pede once more, drawing a femme-ish shriek from the quivering bot.
"Aaaah, wait wait wait! I, uh, yeah! Yeah, I know a kid! He's, uh, he's the one who was pokin' his sensors around, yeah? Yeah! He, uh, he got my friend's gears bunched up in a pretty tight knot! Says he was gonna do somethin' about it, my friend was!" Barricade smiles and laughs hysterically in horror, his optics locked onto the rocketing vehicles below, their head and taillights leaving streaks of luminance behind as a memento of their incredible velocity. He nervously cocks his head to see the femme fatale's reaction, silently begging to Primus it was a satisfied one.
Minerva is unreadable, her optics-shielding visor doing little to assure Breakdown of her intentions. "Who's your friend?"
I don't think I've ever had such a long recharge cycle. The entirety of it was spent going through the same motions: I would wake up, hardly able to keep my optics lit, paddle my arms in whichever direction seemed to have the most light coming from it, grow too tired, and take a fresh intake and lock it in my air tank to keep me buoyant as I drifted back into the worst series of recharge I've ever had.
I think I've reached land, my processor keeps bumping against something as I float on my back, concentrating all my strength on staying afloat. Opening my optics, my tired neural circuitry is unable to understand why there's a pretty femme looking down at me. With my audio receptors under the surface, I can't make out what she's saying as her lip components move. My logic system is able to kick in, however, and determines that now that I've been discovered, it's safe to fall into stasis. As I do, I hear the oddest thing enter my drifting processor.
"Primus be praised."
Prowl is unable to concentrate on writing his report for the recharge cycle's happenings. If he had it his way, he would be out searching for Nightbeat, not staring at a blank datapad. Procedures must be followed, however, as useless and nauseating as they are at times. Checking his chronometer, he realizes he's been sitting at his desk in his dorm room for forty breems now, and nothing has been completed. That's not like him. Deciding that he can be more progressive by means of action rather than contemplating and writing, Prowl stands and leaves his room, heading for the office of the Department branch's head.
The chief, a mech by the name of Sentinel Major who was transferred from Kaon, proves to be of little help.
"He's probably just run away. You know how sparklings are, especially in this area. His creator reported that they had a little argument just before the kid bolted. I'm sure he'll show up."
Prowl is caught off-guard by most of the statement, but inquires on one particular bit, "Wait, his creator came by?"
Sentinel Major leans back in his seat behind his ornate desk, shrugging his shoulders uncaringly, "Sure, she stopped by earlier. I saw her at the reporting desk, talking with the receptionist. Not too bad on the optics, huh? She was actually asking for you, but I knew you had a report to write up, so I handled it myself. You're welcome."
One would think –from the way Sentinel Major conducts himself –that Prowl is the older of the two. Deciding not to grow upset and slow whatever progress he may be able to squeeze out of this situation, Prowl states his plea once more, "Sir, if you would just sign off the resources for me to make sure that this is simply a run-away case –although all evidence found at the factory ought to clearly convince otherwise –I know I can put a mother at ease and bring a child home to safety. With the rates of criminal activity at an all-time high in Sector Cap –Sector D-12, we can't afford to take the risk of writing this off as sparkling-antics; and neither can Nightbeat."
"Who?" Sentinel's inquiry provokes the question of whether or not he has even heard most of what Prowl has said.
"Nightbeat. The sparkling of Sector D-12 who's been reported missing. By his mother." Prowl does his best to keep his tone respectful and clenches his jaw in order to refrain from grinding his teeth.
"Sure, Nightbeat. Listen, Prowl, I'm sure you have something like your Senior thesis to be working on –"
"It's completed, sir." Prowl internally curses himself for interrupting his superior, likely tipping the odds against his favor.
Sentinel Major loses his laid-back demeanor and stares at Prowl with half-shuttered optics, "Then perhaps you need to edit for mistakes. You're dismissed, Prowl. Leave the work to the Enforcers, it's their jobs, not yours. Not until you graduate."
Prowl holds his ground for a moment longer, feeling his only opportunity to help Nightbeat slip out of his desperate servos, "Sir." Prowl follows the respectful protocol and stands at attention, saluting his superior before turning on his heel to leave the office. He storms down the halls of the Academy, drawing curious looks from his peers as his optics darken with anger.
Procedures and protocols be damned.
I feel a cool morning breeze brush over my chassis as I lie with my optics shut, slowly becoming aware of my surroundings. This breeze, however, is different from the one that passes through the home I share with my mother; it smells different… almost artificial.
I online my optics, slowly, and find that once more I have an observer. This one, however, is an aging mech with firm faceplates and a red helmet adorned with a striking black 'V' shaped chevron crest, similar to the red one Prowl has. His words take a nanoklilk to process as the remaining fog dissipates from my senses.
"Hey, there he is. You gave your creators quite a scare, there. Your motor functions have been temporarily disabled; we wouldn't want you to damage your repairs upon waking." The mech gently touches an energon line in my neck cables and looks at a screen device on his forearm, taking some kind of reading. "Excellent, you seem to be coming along just fine. How do you feel?"
His friendly tone is incredibly welcomed and I almost begin to drift off again before he gives me a slight tap to a node on the back of my neck, bringing a rush of energon to my processor that brings me back into awareness. I could certainly use to learn a trick like that.
I try to respond, but instead choke and cough on my dried out vocal cables. The medic-bot turns around in his seated position beside the berth I'm on to accept a cube of light energon handed to him by a green femme-medic and turns back to offer it to me. Pulling a few more fancy servo tricks, the medic pushes and tweaks a few circuits in my apparently open processor housing until I feel my motor-functions return. I blush slightly when I realize that my processor unit is exposed with a femme in the room. The medic brings me into a sitting position so I can take in the offered sustenance.
"Try and take it easy. As it is, you'll need to wear a brace on that new leg of yours until your systems accept it."
My processor skips a beat at that last part. Did he just say 'new leg'? Looking down , I find that one of my legs are now a brilliant solid white, like a new… replacement part… would be… Well… that explains why I kept finding that I was swimming in circles earlier.
I take a moment to observe my new appendage; it most certainly doesn't match with the rest of my dirty, scratched up chassis. Then I'm reminded that I have no idea where I am, nor do I know who I'm with. I pause to take in my surroundings. I'm in a rich-looking, spacious room with white walls and floors that are accented by some kind of light stones, creating an alabaster appearance. One side of the room is entirely windows, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, letting the satellites of Cybertron as well as Cybertron itself illuminate the room in a stunning bath of light. It appears that I'm in a highly elevated building of some kind by the looks of the view.
I pull myself away from my jaw-slacking awe to find out what the deal here is. "Who brought me here?"
The medic looks a bit baffled for a moment before smiling and responding, "Why, your creators. Do you know where you are? Your mother has been especially worried since we arrived. We had to ask her to leave the room." He leans in close to my face and raises a small light to my optics, "You must have bumped your processor when you fell into that filtering grate in the energon channel. You're actually pretty lucky; most bots don't survive an incident like that." Apparently satisfied with what he sees, the medic leans back and offers another assuring smile.
A fresh wave of confusion washes over me at the false story that surely can't be linked to me, "But I didn't –"
I'm interrupted as the arching door to the room is activated and swooshes open with a high-pitched suction of air. The femme I saw earlier –she looks to be about my mother's age, quite young –enters along with a mech who almost looks familiar. By the looks of their gleaming chassis, these two are high-class bots. She quickly strides over to the other side of the berth I'm on, a very affectionate smile growing on her faceplates, "Oh, thank Primus you're alright, sweetie. We were so scared, weren't we, darling?" She turns to the blue and black mech who lingers at the end of the berth, his arms crossed and his expression less-than-excited.
"Of course, love. Very scared." He's obviously lying. He sounds skeptical, as though he's not too happy about what's going on. Whatever it is that's going on.
The femme doesn't even seem fazed by the mech –her sparkmate, perhaps? –and proceeds to sit on the berth, looking at me as though she knows me inside and out. Who the frag is this lady?
"Oh, I'm so glad you're okay. I'm not sure what I would have done had I lost you. I may have died." the femme says with a gloss over her optics.
The statement sounds very close to what my mother told me in the back of the pub. My mother… I ran away from her. That was so… childish. I should have at least stayed and heard her out, even if in the end I wasn't going to follow her requests. I have to get back to her, to make things right. I told her I loved her before I left, didn't I? I know I intended to… but my memory is failing me at the moment. I have to return to her.
"I have to go home. Thank you for helping me, but I –" I'm once more interrupted by my own vocal cables as I begin another coughing fit. This is beginning to frustrate me. The medic once more brings the energon to my lip components, his brow furrowing in confusion, and perhaps suspicion.
The femme releases an audio-grating giggle as she flashes a row of perfect pearly whites, "Oh, sweetie, home is quite a ways away! Fret not, though, we'll be returning soon. For now, though, why don't we enjoy our stay in Iacon?" She laughs and puts her hand on mine, looking to the medic to try to spread the jovial mirth. The medic, however, doesn't look very convinced.
Turning to me, the medic announces both to me and to the odd couple, "You'll need to get plenty of recharge, these things can be quite tumultuous on a sparkling's frame if not properly looked after. I've made a batch of special energon that you'll need to have once a cycle, it'll help your internal circuitry agree with that of the new leg. Now don't go running and climbing everything that looks climbable, at least not for the first deca-cycle." The mech's mouth quirks into a knowing smirk as he wags a digit at me.
The femme straightens her posture and her smile fades just slightly, "Why, such activities are unfit for a young gentlemech. Aren't they, darling." Her mate responds only with a hum.
I feel a little offended at that. Running and climbing things seems to be all I do with my free time. The medic doesn't seem very impressed, either, but offers a smile about as fake as the femme's.
"Ah, one last thing," the medic pulls out a datapad from subspace and brings a stylus to its surface, "what's your name, son?"
The femme reaches across the berth to touch the medic's arm, "Oh, Ratchet is it? Why don't we go into the other room to fill out the details. I'm sure my little spark needs his rest, don't you dear?" To my complete surprise, the femme leans forward and plants a kiss onto my cheek. Normally I would have told the femme to shut up and would have given the medic my name, but I'm dumbstruck by the greatest show of affection I've ever received from a complete stranger.
The medic holds his place at my side for a moment, his optics betraying his annoyance and growing suspicion, "Sure, yes, why don't we do that…" He stands, glancing my way, almost as though he's expecting me to reach out to grab his arm and say something.
The mech at the end of the berth excuses the medic to leave as he announces his presence –strange, I almost forgot about him. "Thank you for your services, Medical Chief Ratchet. Kaon will most certainly take note of the hospitality of Iacon's Medical Department."
I choke once more, but this time not on my parched vocal processor, but on the word 'Kaon'. The medic –Ratchet, I need to remember his designation, he may be of help in whatever it is I'm caught in –makes to reach for the energon on a nearby table once more, but the dark mech is faster and takes it first. They have what looks to be a short stare-down before Ratchet smiles at the looming mech and turns to take his leave.
"Take care…" he says to me before leaving into the other room, his femme assistant following him, looking a bit puzzled. I can only nod my processor in returning the farewell.
Now I'm alone with the mech who entered with the strange femme. He sits at the seat Ratchet had been in, and holds the energon cube up for me. Not feeling an ounce of trust for him, I take it into my own servos and drink; our optics are locked on one another's, as though we're keeping an eye out for any moves to be made. The mech stands and moves towards the door. He stops short and only turns his processor sideways to talk to me.
"You ought to get some rest. You wouldn't want to strain yourself." And with that he was gone, shutting the door behind him.
What is going on?