Chapter 9

A Simple Soldier

Post War (Cybertron)

"..." He stared out the suite's window as he said nothing but only patted a digit against his leg. This only happened around the time that his systems wanted to go into recharge, but unfortunately, with his condition, that was a no-go, so instead he was plugged up to get his vitals relaxed. His nightmares were too horrific for him to go into recharge, it could possibly put him into stasis lock. The nightmares were worse than the flashbacks. He was sat in the recovering infirmary, one of the very first patients to be sat there when the war started.

"Guzzle?" The recharged like mech looked up in a sort of daze at one of the doctors in the infirmary unit. "How are you doing?" Guzzle chose not to answer. That question sounded too rhetorical. "I-I'm First Aid. A nursing unit bot here on Delphi. I've heard so much about you. I've heard so much about your situation. I understand right now you're recharging but I've come here to give you some pretty good news." This mech was very intelligent for his age. He could tell just by listening to his voice. He was the color of most medi-bots: red and white. "You see, I've done some thorough research on your PTSD. It is severe and I'm afraid that no medicine can help but surgery can. Fortunately, I let one of my medical friends know about your problem and he happily wants to assist. He is a mnemosurgist."

Guzzle only stared back out the infirmary's window, his processor voided of all thoughts at the time being. The medi-bot had frowned underneath his white faceplate and grabbed his servo. "If there's anything you need, don't be afraid to talk to me. I know I'm kind of new at this sort of stuff, but you can trust me." This kid sure did have a lot of spark to try to help someone with problems like his. Patting his shoulder softly, First Aid got up and left the infirmary.

"He didn't talk." First Aid told the mnemosurgist waiting outside of the mental infirmary room. "His PTSD is extremely severe then, or it's probably because his internal systems were in recharge mode." The two mechs walked down the hallway as First Aid looked down in sadness. "I don't know Chromedome. I'm really surprised that his mental issue wasn't looked into further. At first, Pharma thought it was better to consider him processor dead since his PTSD won't put him of any use on the battlefield. I told him that it wasn't a good idea, maybe his processor needs a…" Chromedome looked at him through his yellow visor and nodded. "Is this you asking me to mind wipe his processor? The answer is yes: I'll do it. These type of operations are extremely risky though. If I work intently enough, I might just be able to clear out his processor's database for any events in his life that caused his problem."

First Aid didn't want to lose the risk of helping his patient. "I'd want you to do it anyway."

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Kimia Weapons Facility

"Watch it, this is radioactive liquid we're dealing with here." The two mechs poured in the substance into some glass beakers filling it to the brim. When the war started, he and his best friend parted their ways and he put his work and passion to use. He worked under Wheeljack who helped him create some weapons.

They sat the tub of liquid down and wiped at their helms. "We need to convert this stuff into gas right? You know I'm not good with the science stuff. That's on you." Wheeljack stiffened and pointed a digit at him. "I think you should learn that "science stuff". Science is what's helping us not getting our plating handed to us out there in the battlefield." The short mech laughed at Wheeljack's sensitivity towards science and rolled his optics. "Alright, alright. But let me make it clear that I'm good with just building and handling." If there was an easier job in the war, it would be working in the ballistics department. Even though it wasn't all the action he could get from fighting out in battle, he considered his job to be pretty awesome with the fact that he was literally making new weapons for the Autobots. "Ironfist. Look here."

"What's up?" Wheeljack poured the beaker into a heated metal converter as the gas from it rose up into the gas contraption. "Now, do you mind being a test subject momentarily." At first, Ironfist felt himself getting anxious, but he remembered when he use to do the same to his best friend. "'Kay. Just don't frag up Wheeljack."

"Don't worry kid I won't. Now, I'm gonna put the gas into a shelled bullet and shoot it at you. Fortunately and uh … unfortunately, the bullets don't kill anyone they just turn a subject into … glass only for a temporary amount of time." Ironfist frowned at the temporary part. "Temporary? How much temporary are we talkin' about?" Wheeljack smirked and shot one bullet into Ironfist's arm to which he mustered a whimper at the pain. Amazingly, it didn't leave his arm in bad condition. It had only turned into sensitive glass material. "Primus, my arm's glass!" Wheeljack chuckled at Ironfist's wide optics and walked up to him, touching the arm that was affected by the bullet.

"I'm sure the Cons haven't come up with somethin' like this yet. When we use these bullets in the battlefield it'll send those cons into retreat. These bullets are also good for those seekers, we shoot these babies at 'em and they'll fall and break. Since their glass … of course." Ironfist made sure not to make a wrong move and hit his arm anywhere. "How long is my arm gonna stay like this?" Wheeljack thought about this and smiled. "Only for two cycles. I advise you not to trip and fall on yourself, knowing how clumsy you are." Ironfist grumbled as Wheeljack comically grunted. "And Ironfist, you can take a break. Get some energon or somethin' or relax while I work on my helm fins." Ironfist snorted. "What exactly are you trying to do with your helm?"

"Aah, nothing much. Since I modified my helm to faceplate mode when I'm out in battle, I figured, why not have something a little extra to it. You'll see when I'm finished." Ironfist nodded and held up his glass arm. "I think I'm just gonna go and write some more blueprints. Never enough time in this war to have a break." Wheeljack nodded and waved as Ironfist made his way out of the facility.

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His optics roamed over the primal-like planet as he held his rifle in his servos. The humidity was pretty unbearable and the humongous insects made it even worse. His green faceplate seethed in concentration as he listened out for any uncanny noises or saw anything peculiar. "C'mon c'mon c'mon…"

He wasn't going to go down without winning this. A sudden movement was heard behind him and he swiveled over to see that the culprit had left the leaves moving back and forth. The green mech smirked as he realized the enemy was afraid of coming out. He was playing this game again. He was trying to make this slightly more difficult than he usually made it. He had made it to the edge of a small hill and he looked straight down it. Had the scrapheap decided to run away from the fight?

He raised an optic ridge in confusion. "RAAGH!" The decepticon lounged unto his back as the two mechs stumbled down the hill and landed into a water creek. He had regained his attention as the decepticon lifted his weapon towards his finned-like helm. "It's over, Autobot."

Luckily, the mech had enough pede room to trip the decepticon over, getting on top of him, and blasting him right in the faceplate. "One down, one more to go." He walked deeper into the forest as he kept his sniper near. This obviously was needed in a setting like this. Thousands of years of training and battles you'd think would make this mech an expert on the battlefield. In a very broad aspect, he was only 25,000 years old, he wasn't that experienced.

Holding his sniper close to his chassis, he pointed it around at the skies. Decepticon drones were pretty idiotic when it came up to being stealthy, but a small portion of them had enough processor space to figure out that stealth helped you in a fight.

Slipping down another damp hill, the mech spotted about ten Decepticon drones all around each other, guarding some neutral hostages. Welp, guess my fists won't help me here. He threw down a grenade as some of the drones looked in surprise while the others ran to cover. "Five down, five more to go." He hopped down as the drones started to fire. He missed every line of fire, landing down on one decepticon drone knocking him out and down. "Who's next?" He smirked. The drones powered up their weapons as he ran away from the bullets and lasers. He took cover behind a huge rock. The explosion from the grenade caused a mech's helm to be right beside him. "Remember, use the resources around you." He threw the mech's offlined helm towards a bot which bounced off his helm and to another mech's helm. This startled them, offering him enough time to shoot at a few of them.

He ran up to the last two and fought them. He slammed into one and used the mech as a shield as the other drone shot at them. "Half-clocks." The other drone, stunned that he didn't kill the green mech instead, was shot down by his rifle. "Knew I could handle something more than a one-on-one. Turn off the simulator." The setting disappeared as he took off the simulator visor and was in the blank white room. He walked through the door's exit as he saw Kup watching the simulator through a holo-screen. "Well kid, you could've did better."

"Better? Define better?"

"I don't know. You're just a little too reluctant to be seen. I'm kinda proud you used your ability to your potential. They don't call you Springer for nothin'."

Springer smirked and cockily grabbed his hips. "But I could've done "better" huh? I beat YOUR high score old mech." Kup chuckled and grabbed his shoulder. "When I get my systems refurbished and oiled, don't cry when I twist your arm off on a one-on-one combat." Springer made his way to the break room as he waved to some mechs he knew.

"Sideswipe to Civil Defense … Sideswipe to Civil Defense answer!"

Springer raised an optic ridge and answered the computer's line, "Sideswipe, Springer here! What's wrong?"

"We've lost coordinates to the raw energon mines here on Hydrophena. Can you bots over there try to find a energy signal?"

"Blaster, do you think you could send a signal over to them? You're pretty good with this type of stuff."

"Well thanks for acknowledging one of my assets." Blaster started to type on the computer as Cybertronian wording popped up everywhere on the screen. Scratching his helm confusingly he commed back to Hydrophena. "There's your coordinates … seems like all that energon is stuck in a lower region over there. You guys might needa' go underground it seems … be careful guys."

"Thanks, we'll comm you guys back if there's any problems."

"Ol' Hydrophena, the red underwater planet they call it," Kup remembered. "Anyway, I'm kinda surprised they traveled all the way there for fraggin' energon."

"It's more reserves there, crystallized energon reserves I mean. They grow in damp areas more easily. Hopefully, the Cons aren't patrolling over there, then we'd need to send over some reinforcements."

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He sat on the floor of his berth room as his pedes sat up and he took another drink of his high grade. Primus … how much did he drink? His stash was starting to really run out. Oh well. Maybe he could drink himself in a stupor and put himself in stasis lock. The war was important … sure-but how did it benefit him? Killing cons made him feel good. Made him feel superior. But honestly, the autobots and cons are just alike. Most of them don't kill because it's their duty. They do it because it brings power, a prize. Such as good intentions from your superiors. Yeah, fraggin' superiors. Him? Hmmph. Superiors were nothing but mechs and femmes who had a little bit of say-so. "Frag."

He groaned as he got up from his sitting position. It felt like he'd been sitting like this for awhile. Again he tried to notify himself that he wasn't old. Not yet. Just a little creaky in certain parts. Sitting down for a long period of time does that you ya'know. He reached for a few bolts and screws and unlatched a pistol from the side of his leg. Lately, it had been acting up and that-was not good. Although the barely used it in the battlefield, it helped with many emergencies. He wasn't a weapon technician or anything like that, so chances were that he'd need to go … he looked at his berth room's door and grunted. He'd have to "socialize". As in ask another bot to fix his pistol. He wasn't much of a talker like he use to be either. The war kept him too occupied to talk to irrelevant bots. He switched on a small light as he got work on his weapon. His yellow optics wandered around the schematics of the device as his digits turned every screw and messed with the trigger. Don't worry kids. It wasn't loaded.

His one optic twitched twice as he finally came up with the realization that he'd need to go out of his way to get another pistol. He'd miss this baby. Helped him a lot. Now it was time to upgrade. Which meant … that he'd have to travel to Kimia … for a fragging gun. Not only would he embarrassed to walk in front of everyone with a plating that was dented and dirty, he'd probably lose his processor and choke somebody from all the whispers and pointing. "Oh well. If it does happen, at least I'll be back in prison again. Not too bad … compared to this mess."

Being in solitary confinement while being fed low-grade energon wasn't too bad. Well. Nevermind. It would have been even worse if he was cellmates with that- who was he again? Oh yeah, that literally crazy mech, Whirl. Wonder what happened to him? Probably somewhere making ticking time bombs. He was a fan of clocks. He'd have to hurry up and get that pistol though. He knew it wouldn't be long until he was stationed to the forefront of battle. He grabbed the weapon and walked to the exit of his hab suite. As he walked out, he caught sight of a red femme with a blue visor. The femme was pretty annoying, but what would someone expect from the "cousin" of Blaster. "How's it goin' there Impact? Haven't been outta that room of yours in days."

"I've been … thinkin', Vibes."

"Aren't we all, but you oughta get some fresh air. Oh and … clean yourself up why dontcha?"

His plan wasn't to clean himself up when he was just going to get dirty again. What's the purpose? So he could go out there and look like some regal war hero with his yellow plating? Sounds awesome, but he wasn't interested. He didn't want to live his life like some … fairytale.

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Iacon: The Great Dome

He rubbed his digits among the red Autobot shining boldly on his chest and sighed looking into the mirror before him. This … wasn't easy. Yes, you were cherished by the thousands that followed you and given the utmost respect. Yes, wherever you went mechs and femmes alike gave you this … this look of amazement and awe. But, in his position, bots didn't understand that he was, if not the only, savior of their entire race. He didn't wish this burden on anyone, the burden of having to hold one of the most important forces of the universe in your chassis, having to … having to lead. Having to fight someone you considered not only a friend, but a brother. He was the youngest prime to ever hold the matrix. It was so sudden, he wasn't even given the proper training for this, to handle this possesion. He had to remember what Trion told him though. About having the confidence to achieve something even though you never expected it.

"Prime?" Optimus turned to his room entrance as he saw his old friend and top commander. "Come in, old friend. What is it that you need?"

"I'm just checking on you. I know that you like to keep to yourself, but it's no harm in checking on a good friend. Especially one that you've fought beside many times … a Prime at that." Optimus mentally sighed. That word again: Prime. "I am just in thought about everything, Magnus. Being in high position is very difficult but each day I live by Alpha Trion's word. He is one of the reasons I am so strong." The illustrious leader felt a servo on his shoulder and he turned with an expressionless faceplate. "Don't weigh yourself like this Op-Prime. You have many that admire you. You're one of the reasons why the neutrals are becoming Autobots. Not to sound too humorous in this situation, but I feel as if Megatron is jealous of your leadership." A small smile formed on the great Prime's face and he nodded. "Noted."

"Excuse me? Prime, Magnus. Elita would appreciate if you both met her in the meeting hall along with some other guests." Highbrow said as he walked through the door. They both nodded as they began to follow him down to the meeting hall as Optimus still held an emotionless look. Well, most of the he did, he stopped smiling much after he carried the Matrix. He also lost his contagious laugh. The myths weren't a lie when they said the Matrix would make you serious. As they walked into the meeting hall a huge circular-shaped table was in front of them. Consisting of the group was Elita, Perceptor, and Dai Atlas who waited for the Prime and Magnus.

"Please, sit. You wouldn't want to miss this." Dai Atlas exclaimed as the two mechs sat down in their seats. "Dai Atlas, Perceptor, Highbrow-" Prime nodded to the mechs and looked towards Elita who he smiled a bit towards, "Elita," A slight blush overcame her faceplates as she heard her name, "Welcome. Would you all mind informing me of the topic." Dai Atlas cleared his vocal chords and smirked, "Thank you, Optimus Prime. Recently Intelligence intel has located computer screen data from the Decepticon headquarters. The Decepticons seem to have schematics of a ship of some sort. We think that the Decepticons are planning something more than a cargo-hold. Weapon of mass destruction? Possibly. Until then-" Atlas looked at Highbrow as he finished for him, "-We hope that this isn't a weapon they are planning for a full course attack."

Perceptor looked between Optimus and Ultra Magnus as Elita only sighed and diverted her optics at the surface of the metal table. Everyone was waiting for the Prime to speak, and of course, he had something to say of the situation, "Intel Commander Highbrow. Does anyone besides the Intelligence group know of this?" Highbrow frowned and replied, "Of course not. We've decided to keep this confidential to not cause any fear or uproar. It is entirely up to you, Prime, if you want to let this information out into the public."

Elita looked at Optimus with "no" in her optics. "Yes Highbrow," Dai Atlas's optic brow quirked up a bit as Ultra Magnus sat back in his chair. Elita looked around the room disbelieved. "I think that it is best to tell our fellow Autobots of the information we just received. Any moment this, plan, could become reality, and I feel as if we must build something to equate the Decepticons." Perceptor took out a data-pad and started to type. "The science guild and I will start this immediately when Intel provides us with the schematics of the ship."

Everyone nodded except Elita, who could only frown from what she heard Optimus say. The meeting ended as Elita hurriedly got up out of her chair and walked quickly through one of the exits. Optimus looked on as Dai Atlas stood beside him. "Believe me, Prime, she'll get over it. Soon she'll learn how wise this decision you made was." Optimus could only give a small nod and reply, "Elita cares about every individual's feelings." That was one of her downfalls and that was one of the reasons he loved her. Magnus only walked beside him and sighed. "You know, Optimus, I highly agree with this information going out to the public. I understand why you've done what you did. I don't for one moment wish fear unto anyone, but so be it. This is war."

Oh, being Prime meant you had to make decisions.

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"What. The frag. Is wrong with you?" His blue optics darkened a bit at his anger and his brother continued to wash himself in the wash rack. "I had to do it. Air force wasn't coming quick enough. The bomb would have denoted and would've killed all of us. Doesn't matter if we're jumpstarters or not."

"I hate when you do this!" His servo balled into a fist as he punched the metal wall near his brother who didn't flinch, or maybe did, he wore a visor, so nobody knows. "I hate when you, when you, play fragging hero. You know that? The bomb almost KILLED you. Almost blew you up until you were nothing but nuts and bolts. Did you forget? We share a spark Spin. We share a SPARK!" Topspin let the water flow down his frame and kept rubbing the places where he got hurt. "If you die, I die, no matter what happens. Is that you want? Do you even care?"

"Let is got Twintwist."

"L-let is go?! Topspin! You almost died! I saw what happened on the feed!" Topspin smirked and started to laugh as his twin sat there in confusion contemplating to put his brother in a mental institution. "Twist. It was a dud. Gotcha." Twintwist sat there a few more seconds until he realized what was happening. "You mean, the feed, you just showed me, was you in training?"

"Yeah. Just, getting you back from what you did to me at Moon Base." He turned off the shower stalls and walked away whistling at his brother's trembling protoform. "I'm going to kill you!" He followed his brother out and knocked him down to the ground as they started to wrestle. Topspin laughed as Twintwist let out a small growl at his brother's prank. "Don't you ever, ever, never, ever, do that to me again! Okay?" Topspin started to stop as he noticed his brother stopped fake wrestling and cuddling into his chassis, his helm low. "H-hey, don't-Twist." Twintwist was in no shape or form lighter in weight than him, but he could still pick him up surprisingly. Things like this happened a lot. Especially during the war. Sometimes pranks seemed to surreal and Twintwist couldn't handle it, especially if it had something to do with his brother getting fake hurt or dead. Even though he could real life feel it, he still worried that his reckless twin would get hurt by the cons.

"Whatcha doin'? Put me down Spin you know I hate when you pick me up like I'm some sparkling or some scrap."

"Can't help it. You act like a fragging sparkling. I'm never gonna go away. 'Kay? I'm just gonna stay, 'cause, you're here, and you're alive. I have no reason to go. Now get up, they commed me before I got into the showers saying we go to Polyhex. Got some back-up they need." He got up and looked back at his brother who grinned. "One day, this scrap ain't gonna be a prank, but for now let's not wish on it."