A/N: Here is the next Chapter from yours truly! As stated before, these next few Chapters are gonna be flashback Chapters. There's only gonna be three though, because trying to get all of like, five or six or more Chapters done for our boy is a little too much even for me. So, we're gonna do it like this-you had a Chapter of him as a sparkling, now we have him as a young adult in this Chapter. The next one will be him as an adult. So...yeah...anyways, enjoy. Oh! Also, I'm planning on taking a semester off from school, so I might even be able to write a little more since I'll just be working.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any shape or form. I only own the story and any and all OCs in said story. If there's someone you're not familiar with, it's probably an OC.
PLEASE COMMENT! I NEED CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM TO MAKE MY STORIES (PRESENT, FUTURE, OR OTHERWISE) BETTER!
He stares out at all of the forms crowding around him. The situation he found himself in was actually kind of funny—here he was, a Mech who had so many "issues" with authority figures, and he was standing in the courtyard of the Praxus Enforcers Academy.
He'd already been here a few weeks, having said goodbye to his parents before walking through those large doors. He'd walked into the barracks, found his bunk, met his roommate—a timid flyer named SkyLancer, who mostly just wanted to be behind the scenes—and gained the curious optics of many of the instructors with his lax "give respect, get respect" attitude. Most would think that meant he didn't give an ounce of care for authority figures, but he did. He just…had a different way of showing it.
That's how it's always been with him. His Sire had engrained that philosophy into his mind growing up—never give respect to someone if they don't respect you in return. It made him quite a few enemies growing up, but his Sire always stood behind him in his decisions.
Which is why the black-and-white Mech wasn't too surprised when he walked up to him one day and said he wanted to be an Enforcer.
Speaking of being an Enforcer…where was SkyLancer?
You wouldn't expect a flier to want to be part of the Enforcers, but his roommate was good at surveillance, so having optics in the air had put them and their small group at an advantage during training runs. The other groups admired and hated them for their ability to work well as a team, with him as the hesitant leader.
He didn't know how it happened. He'd never been in a leadership role before, never having many friends growing up—but for some reason, coming here threw him into the role, and he had surprisingly taken to it well. Another thing that had put him into the spotlight.
He grabs the arm of a passing Mech.
"Hey, have you seen SkyLancer?"
He frowns when the Mech shakes his helm. He watches the Mech walk away. It wasn't like the timid flier to miss an assembly, no matter how short it was supposed to be. If anything, SkyLancer was the one who dragged him out of their room and down to the courtyard.
"P-Please go away."
The familiar voice brings him out of his thoughts. He moves towards it, finally seeing the hunched shoulders of his roommate. The gray flier is backing away from another familiar Mech, the black and bronze plating making him growl.
Turnpike.
Don't be fooled by the stupid name—he thought that since his Sire was some corporate head for one of the places that funded the Enforcers Academy, that he wasn't worth all of their time. He treated everyone like scrap. SkyLancer was his favorite target, the timid Mech never liking confrontation.
Blue optics narrow, turning icy.
"Why tell me to go away? I'm not the one who doesn't belong here. Haven't you ever wondered why no one wants to be around you? It's cause you are a freak—a bot who's afraid of his own shadow shouldn't be in a place like this."
His optics flash.
"So…beat it!" he says, shoving the flier hard in the chest.
SkyLancer hits the ground with a yelp.
Red fills his vision. He doesn't even register moving, doesn't register throwing the first punch. But it just goes from there. Punches are thrown and blocked; plating is ripped. Energon splatters against the ground.
Finally finding an opening, he moves. One leg goes right under the black Mech's arm, the other onto his shoulder. He twists, throwing the black form down onto the ground. Taking advantage, he straddles the disoriented form, throwing punch after punch.
Suddenly, a pair of servos grabs his arms, hauling him away from the other Mech. He struggles against the iron grip, only for it to tighten as a voice breaks through the red haze, snarling at him to stand down. His vents are harsh and shallow, fans struggling to cool his overheating body.
He feels the other form drag him away, finally catching a glimpse of his reflection in the shining metal of the walls.
Plating dented and scratched, hairline cracks spiderwebbing across his visor. A busted lip, Energon dripping down his chestplate. Sparks erupting from his torn shoulder plating. But he smirks—if he looked like this, he could only imagine what the other Mech looked like.
"Wipe that grin off of your face." The Drill Sergeant snaps, pulling the younger bot into his optic view. "I should have you kicked out of this academy for that."
"Why? Because I proved that that Mech can't fight worth scrap?"
A twitch of the mouth. "No. Because not only did you pick an unprovoked fight with another cadet, but you happened to pick a fight with the one Mech who's Sire could make your life Pit."
"And I'll do it all again if it means protecting Lance from that fragger." He says, optics narrowing in defiance.
It's quiet, but then, Ironhide smirks, his ruby arms crossing over black-accented chestplating.
"You got spark. What's your name, cadet?"
He straightens, his amber visor flashing.
"DuskShot, Sir."