A/N: Hey guys. Here is the 12th Chapter of "A Family Bound by Spark." A little on the short side, but still enjoyable. Hopefully.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any shape or form. I only own the story and any and all OCs mentioned in said story. OCs being the Grayson Siblings.
ATTENTION! Okay. There is something that I need to know. The Silvernote, are you Psychic? Because with both "Invisible Guardian" AND this story, I'll think of doing something, change my mind about it, and then you will mention it in your review. I'm not mad or anything, I just want to know if you are Psychic because I was planning on doing the "Special Thing" with Ari and Stormjumper, was on the fence about it for a while, and then you come along asking if it's actually gonna happen. So, yeah. That's my thing.
:Blah:= Comm. Link
Thank You to all those who have read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed to this story. never stop loving Fanfiction.
PLEASE COMMENT! IF YOU FEEL YOU MUST FLAME, KEEP IN MIND IT WILL BE IGNORED!
Windstorm hits the ground with a grunt, pain racing up his back. "Ooh"s and "Ouch"-es sound through the Training Room as he opens his optics, the form of Wheeljack standing above him. The white Jet takes the offered servo, Wheeljack helping him up.
After their first battle, Optimus was insistent on the Brothers honing their skills. Each Brother was adequate in hand-to-hand combat, but Optimus wanted them to be stronger. Right. Stronger. Or dead quicker. One of the two.
"You okay?"
Windstorm nods.
"Yeah. I'm good."
"Good."
The Wrecker gets into a fighting stance, the message clear. Sighing, Windstorm prepares himself. Okay then. One more round.
"Ow! Hey, OW!"
"Hold still you big baby."
"I will when you-OW!"
Smokescreen snickers. Windstorm was currently in the Medbay with a dislocated shoulder, courtesy of Wheeljack. Who, at the moment, was being chewed out by Ratchet. There was a lot of yelling and cursing going on in the Main Room. A lot of yelling going on in here too. Nightwing tries again to take his Brother's arm to pop the shoulder back in place, but Windstorm yelps, moving away.
Mumbling under his breath, Nightwing Comms. a certain Femme.
:Hey Arcee, you busy?
:No. Just watching Ratchet verbally murder Wheeljack. Why?:
:I need an assist.:
Footsteps sound as Arcee steps into the Medbay. The blue Femme pauses, lifting an optic ridge at the sight in front of her. Windstorm is standing up, a stool in his left servo, using it to hold back his older Brother, his right arm hanging limp, the dislocated shoulder sparking. She glances at the laughing blue car on the other berth, before sighing.
"Windstorm. What are you doing?"
Having been raised to respectfully pay attention when someone is speaking, Windstorm pauses, looking at Arcee to answer. That's when Nightwing moves. In a streak of black, the oldest Grayson lunges, knocking the stool out of his Brother's servo, and sticking him in a headlock. The white Jet struggles, but then falls limp. His amber optics widen.
"Dude! What did you do?!"
Nightwing smiles.
"I blocked the nerves to your legs."
His grip tightens slightly, "Now. I'm going to unblock your legs, and you are going to let me fix your shoulder. Got it little brother?"
Windstorm's wings lower.
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."
Nightwing sits him down and gets into position. One servo grips Windstorm's arm, the other braces on the plating where his neck met his shoulder. He nods a thank you to a wide-opticed Arcee, before lifting the arm. Silence fills the Medbay.
"1…2…"
*snap* *pop*
"OW! SON OF A-"
"You're welcome."
