Chapter 10
"Hey, I finally found him!"
Hot Shot dragged himself up to the vendor stall, clambering onto the roof alongside Scorch. His friend chuckled when he slipped but grabbed his elbow and helped drag him up the rest of the way, before the red youngling could fall for good. "Did you really have to send JetBash after me?," Hot Shot scowled, crawling over the roof slowly.
There was a soft clatter behind the pair, a white youngling with neon green stripes hurrying to scoot up besides the first two. "Hot Shot's just mad I got in the way of him smashing faces with some femme third-seater," JetBash cackled, yanking on a piece of heel plating teasingly.
"Hey!," Hot Shot hissed, kicking at the other youngling.
"Don't make him fall," Scorch tsked irritably. "If he ruins the surprise, I swear I'll string you up by your wing tips, Jet! Besides, it's not like he can't shove her back in a storage closet to finish the job, right, Shotty?"
"U-um, well...," Hot Shot reset his vocalizer uncomfortably, hurrying to overtake Scorch past the safety barriers securing the vendor stall to the rest of the stadium. "I might not have gotten her... name... or team unit code..."
Scorch stifled a laugh, though JetBash did nothing to mute his snorts behind them. "Seriously, Shotty? You couldn't spare one klik to get her name before you started groping each other?," the yellow youngling ribbed.
"I'll see her again!," Hot Shot huffed irritably, sliding under the final support beam for the lower ringside seats. "I mean, it's the youth center- everyone gathers there. It's not like the elder 'bots let us do anything else. And stop calling me that! It's a stupid name."
"So would 'Hotty' be an acceptable substitute then?," JetBash snickered. "You do have some slender lines."
"Alright, enough," Scorch snapped. Hot Shot sent the yellow youngling a strange look; losing his temper was very uncharacteristic for his fellow cube player. Scorch glared at their third companion one last time, before smoothing his features and shooting his usual smirk towards the atv-former. "Anyways, forget that crankshaft. We're here for a surprise."
"You mentioned that," the red Autobot said, "But what-"
A finger cut across his vision, interrupting Hot Shot. Uncertainly, he followed it, dipping his helm to look under the vendor's sign. His optics brightened as they did, shutting off his vocalizer to silence the squeal that was just about to erupt. The stadium was not so empty as Hot Shot had originally thought: across the large arena were some of the Iacon Wreckers star players, giving a tour it seemed to none other than The Optimus Prime.
"I-it's him! It's really him! He's alive?!," Hot Shot gushed softly, jostling his tires up against his buddies in excitement. "This is fragging unbelievable!"
"Figured you'd love it," Scorch grinned.
"Yeah, Scorch overheard some of the Elders gossiping 'bout how Prime magically came back to life," JetBash explained, flicking pearls of dust from his wrist sockets in boredom. "And seeing as you've heard the sparkling tales of his at least, oh, I dunno, like a million times, we thought you'd get a kick out of this. Didn't think you'd actually lube over the big honcho. He your type?"
Scorch reached across the roof and punched the cackling youngling hard. Hot Shot took part in glaring at the white youngling this time. Before his mood could be completely soured though, the yellow Autobot was rolling one of his rims, drawing the smaller mech's attention back forward. "Sorry we gotta stick to sneaking glimpses but this is big news," Scorch shared. "Apparently the Prime returned not that long ago. Survived an assassin attempt from the council itself! Anyways, they're setting up a string of social events for his great return to Cybertron. I overheard that several game matches are in the roster."
Hot Shot let out a tiny bit of a squeal before he muffled it a second time, peeking under the vendor sign to continue studying Optimus Prime, the hero of his favourite newspark recharge tales. Optics glittering with excitement, the red youngling made a silent wish to one orn actually meet the Prime face-to-face, while his two friends hunkered in closer to partake in the spying.
xXx
"...Absorption complete!"
The drone's declaration was drowned out by the swell of cheering, a crowd of small Earth children swarming the tiny square of cement towards the two Cybertronians standing in the center, cycling a little harder following their game. "For the love of Solus!," High Tide grumbled, as a few of the kids weaved through his massive legs, "Ya space barnacles need to stay on the sidelines!"
Wedge, surrounded by a dozen smiling faces himself, chuckled at the older mech's griping. "They're just excited, sir. Bet they've never seen a real Cybertronian game before," he said, lowering the deactivated cube to their reaching hands. The children squealed as they grabbed the game piece, shouting out a garbled variation of his designation in their national tongue, before tearing out of the courtyard with the cube.
"That?!," High Tide scoffed, approaching the recruit as the last of the stragglers disappeared out of sight, "Cube ain't a real game- it's a newsparks' activity. Meant for keeping them distracted and out of tripping range. It doesn't take much skill to play."
"For a skill-less game, I sure as slag wiped the floor with you," Wedge smirked.
The old seamech paused at the jab, bursting out into raucous laughter as he pounded the triple-changer's shoulder tires good-naturedly. "Aye, you got me there, skipper. But if you ever want a real challenge, you know where I dock," he grinned, giving the orange youngling's tire one final squeeze, "I'll set up you proper with a rousing round of Lob-ball or even a set of Conquer. And if you're really looking to get humbled, try me on some of my best ocean dives."
"I look forward to it, sir," Wedge replied.
High Tide's expression softened for a moment, gazing down upon the recruit with something akin to pride shining in his optics. At the sight of it, Wedge felt himself straighten up further, his spark expanding joyfully. As quick as it had come though, it was gone again, leaving the blue mech to turn away slightly as he reset his vocalizer with an awkward click.
"Alright, that's enough slacking off for me. I have a ship to keep shapely," High Tide said. "Enjoy the rest of your orn, skipper, and I'll see you on our next lesson."
"Have a great one, sir," Wedge called out as the veteran left, casting back one final glance and a wave as he marched off towards Faxian's docks. High Tide had barely left when the recruit's comm beeped. "Yes?," he answered, starting a languid stroll back to base.
"Ah, Wedge," Blades vocalizer chirped over the line, "How was your game with High Tide?"
"Good. We had a great round. Sadly, he grouched a lot about not being very nimble," Wedge chuckled. "He promised to show me a real challenge next time."
"Didn't I say he'd taken a shine to you? I don't think I've seen the old sea dog like anyone as much as he does you," the helicopter giggled in turn.
Wedge couldn't help that his smile grew a couple inches wider as he came up to the base bunker doors. "Yeah. I know I've said it before but... uh... thank you, Professor Blades. Really. I-i don't know what would have happened if... Coming here, to Faxian, with you and the other mentors, it's been really life-changing for me," he added, his tone growing softer as he spoke. "It's given me a lot to think about, you know?"
Over the comm, he heard Blade's vocalizer become a touch more gentler as well. "I'm glad to hear that you've finally found your rhythm here. Though, I think it's time we discussed some important changes."
"What," the triple-changer started hesitantly, pressing a palm against the base's security door lock, "Kind of changes?"
The bunker door had barely risen the entire way when the youngling found himself freezing in place, optics burning brightly in shock. On the other side of the doorway stood Blades, patiently waiting it seemed, alongside two other 'bots. "Only good things, I promise," Blades smiled, adding to their current conversation.
Towering over nearly all of them, Optimus Prime smiled as well, his optics lighting on the startled recruit with an equally as kind expression. "I concur, young Wedge. Not all changes are negative and a future like yours is one worth supporting," the truck-former stated, his vocalizer reverberating with gentle power.
Wedge grinned foolishly. "O-of course. Sir."
xXx
"Wait a klik, this... this isn't Cybertron." Hot Shot paused on the other side of the space bridge, his optics adjusting to the dimmer lighting as he looked over his surroundings in confusion. The walls were a deep green shade here; a series of exterior, long phosphorous bulbs offering illumination instead of the usual inlaid-pot lights. Not to mention everything smelled heavily of Earth's pine trees and the youngling could swear he heard non-stop birdsong echoing from beyond the room.
"You are indeed correct," Boulder replied, already over at the bridge's control panel, "This base is just one of a few Cybertronian-friendly establishments here on Earth. We've been slowly expanding, hoping to implement more Rescue Bot teams in key areas around the planet as we work toward building further connections with the humans."
"I... what?," Hot Shor so eloquently remarked, his perplexion only growing. "I-i thought Milford and Griffin Rock were the only places you guys have been!"
"Quite the contrary," the green mech answered. "There are several more Rescue Bots that you recruits have yet to meet, that we planned to pair you off with in due time, but that's something to discuss for another orn. Our little detour is over and it's time to move on."
The space bridge hummed again as Boulder finished resetting their coordinates; joining the youngling up on the platform. "I-i... I just don't understand, sir," Hot Shot mumbled, a servo rubbing at his forehelm as a processor ache began to build, "There's other Rescue Bots? A-and why did we have to detour here to get to Wedge?"
The older Autobot gave the recruit an encouraging smile, gently nudging him into walking side-by-side through the swirling portal. "Let's not worry about that right now," he told his confused companion.
His helm was really starting to ache with the influx of sudden information; still, Hot Shot stumbled along after Boulder, initially relieved when they walked into a room with gleaming metal and straight-cut lines -a look far more Cybertronian than their last destination. All the same, something felt... off.
"This... this is still Earth, isn't it?!," Hot Shot cried out in dismay, noticing the tiny equipment tucked neatly to the side and the shorter doorways cut more appropriately to a human's size. "P-professor, yo-you said you'd take me to where Wedge is!"
Boulder was in the middle of heading for the singular doorway fit for a Cybertronian, leading it looked, into a larger warehouse space. "I never said he was on Cybertron," the bulldozer rebutted, glancing back at the recruit.
His processor reeling, the red youngling broke into a jog to keep up with his teacher's long strides. "B-but... Heatwave said-"
"Heatwave lied," Boulder confessed with a frown, "To save from having to explain the real circumstances of Wedge's departure. And Chase only echoed what he was told."
Hot Shot nearly tripped over his own pedes at the truth that his mentor had lied to him, feeling as though another weight had been added to his already heavy spark. "S-sir, I..."
"Well, well, well," interrupted an unfamiliar vocalizer. A femme's vocalizer. "This will certainly complicate things."
Hot Shot peered around Boulder's large torso as the green mech came to a pause, his optics staring up at the silver Autobot in shock.
"Quickshadow," Boulder greeted, "It's been a while. I'm sorry to be blunt -we need to see Blades."
The aforementioned Quickshadow glanced coolly from the bulldozer, down towards the multi-changer peeking around the other Autobot's wide pedes. "He is on the eastern side," she supplied, her pale optics having yet to leave Hot Shot. The youngling wanted to squirm under that unrelenting gaze. "But I'd say you've come at the worse time. He is in conference with you-know-who... and his newly appointed liaison."
The bulldozer cycled an intake unevenly, his shoulder treads tensing at the news. "Thank you for the update, Quickshadow," he replied, twisting in the direction that she had pointed, "C'mon, Hot Shot."
"Good luck," the femme called out as the pair broke off into a rapid pace.
When Hot Shot hesitated a glance back, he was startled to find the stranger had already disappeared. "W-who was that?!," he questioned worriedly.
"Later," was all Boulder said.
The recruit opened his mouth to speak, finding his words tangle somewhere up in his vocalizer as they stepped outside -into the bright, sunlit orn of a bustling city. Skyscrapers pierced the blue sky in rigid lines and twisting designs, glittering with silver and glass under the sun's rays, as small aerial drones buzzed above a sea of humans going about their lives and colourful projector screens shouted their messages in a strange language.
"Wow...," Hot Shot vented, in awe of the place.
Boulder patted his shoulder plating, drawing the youngling's attention back to him. "Here," the bulldozer informed, a finger pointing across the warehouse district. The multi-changer followed it, spark swelling when his optics lighted on an orange figure of similar size.
"Wedge!," he shouted exuberantly, sprinting down the street. The other recruit turned in alarm at the call of his name; Hot Shot opening his arms, eager to embrace the triple-changer.
He found himself falling to the street with a clang instead, scrapping his servos in the backwards tumble.
"O-ow! Wha...?"
"What the slag are you doing here?," Wedge demanded.
Hot Shot snapped his optics upward, shoulders arcing up to his helm in confusion at the glare on the orange recruit's face. "I-i... I, w-we, wanted to bring you back," the red youngling murmured uncertainly.
Wedge snarled derisively, folding his arms over his chestplates. "Oh, really? Well forgive me if I turn down such an offer."
"B-but, you belong on our team, Wedge!," Hot Shot protested, clumsily clambering back up on his pedes. He tried to smile at the other youngling, but it twisted weirdly on his face, looking more like a grimace than a smile. "W-we're all gonna graduate together, r-remember? Go a-and help people a-as a group!"
"We? WE? There is no 'we'," Wedge shouted, his temper flaring. "You decided I was lesser than the dirt you walked on; you refused to look past the fact that I was protoformed bearing a Decepticon insignia -stuff I had no fragging control over! You have no idea the life I lived before the war ended or what I suffered personally, yet you decided I wasn't worthy of redemption despite everything we shared at the Academy. Because of you, I very nearly lost my chance to be a Rescue Bot -something I fought to even be considered for- and the only reason I'm still on this planet is thanks to Blades bringing me here, to learn under his team. Now that I'm happy here, you're trying to rob me of that too? Do you realize how incredibly self-centered and selfish you are?!"
"T-that's not...," the multi-changer stuttered to reply, coolant filling his optics, "I-i'm trying-"
"Trying to 'what', Hot Shot?," the orange recruit snapped.
"Is everything okay here?"
The younglings both twisted to see Blades approaching them. On his heels, came Boulder, a second stranger... and Optimus Prime. Hot Shot felt himself go rigid in horror at the sight of his hero striding towards the recruits, brow furrowed slightly in an unreadable manner. "Wedge, what has happened?," the truck-former inquired, his optics looking first to the triple-changer then the to the red Autobot.
"Nothing, sir," Wedge answered through gritted denta, "Hot Shot was just giving me excuses for his former behaviour."
"Hot Shot," Optimus Prime pressed gently, "Would you care to elaborate?"
The red youngling's gaze flickered rapidly between his still-angry friend and the Prime, intakes cycling in faster and faster, yet the heat behind his optics only increasing in ferocity. His mouth flapped open and closed, his apology and a thousand other words dying on the tip of his glossa, as he remained the center of unwanted attention. Finally, his spark puttering to a stand still and trembling legs threatening to give out, did Hot Shot turn and run off, unable to hold the tears at bay a moment longer.
"Hot Shot!," Blades gasped as the recruit vanished. Frowning, he glanced briefly at his companions, uttering an "excuse me" before grabbing Wedge's arm and dragging him several feet away from the rest of the group.
"Hey! Let me go!," the triple-changer grouched, yanking to free himself.
Blades did not try to restrain the orange youngling again, though his disapproving scowl sure did the work for him. "Wedge, that was uncalled for," the helicopter said.
"What? How?!," Wedge cried out incredulously, "You know that he was the reason I left the Academy, Professor! He mistreated me based on the fact that I used to be a Decepticon- a fact that he only learned about recently. He decided me being part of such an 'evil side' far outweighed anything I'd done since and judged me on just that. Now, he's here 'cause the team is a mess no doubt and he just wants me back to save face and make his life easy again!"
"How do you know that's what he wants?," Blades returned, mouth pursing in unspoken ire. "You complain about him judging you but here you are doing the same to him! If you'd given him a chance, you would have known that he came to apologize."
Wedge refused to be cowed by this revelation. "If that was the case, then why didn't he just say it, huh?," the ex-Decepticon demanded. "He sure as slag can run his mouth any other time but not when it comes to admitting his wrong?!"
"I'd find it pretty hard to open up my spark to someone who refused to give me the chance to speak freely. Especially if that individual tried to publicly humiliate me at the same time," Blades scolded. "Yes, Hot Shot was wrong to treat you that way but he never made a show of the misguided hatred he had for your past. And now that he's here, trying to be better than he was, you keep interrupting him, belittling him and making a mockery of his feelings -all things that you, yourself, have regretfully experienced. You want a second chance? Well, that was it! Yet, you'd rather be a hypocrite than believe that maybe Hot Shot has really changed!"
The triple-changer hesitated to open his mouth, anger still burning in his spark but guilt wriggling a crooked digit through the embers. "... but I'm happy here," he hissed lowly, half-enraged, half-pleading.
The white mech's features finally softened, his optics dimmed in exhaustion. "I understand, Wedge," he replied, "And I won't force you to leave if you don't want to. You need to think though. Life, even in these war-less times, is so uncertain... Don't throw back second chances when they're handed to you."
"Now," Blades added with a sigh, "Go find Hot Shot. You need to go apologize for own recent behaviour at the very least. Whether you accept his apology in return is up to you but there is no need to be cruel."
The youngling felt his mouth turn downwards in a scowl, fists tightening at his sides. "Fine," he mumbled, not willing to start another argument with his teacher. He made no effort to hide his unhappiness as he stomped off to locate the wayward Hot Shot, ignoring all the older 'bots watching his departure.
xXx
Primus, he was so stupid.
Sobbing, Hot Shot staggered through the warehouses, all earlier charm and wonder lost on the recruit while his spark withered inside its chamber. He should have expected that Wedge would hate him for what he did yet the multi-changer had never thought that he'd be unable to get his apology out. Nor had he thought that Optimus would be there to judge the youngling for his disgusting actions. It was all too much... If he could just find the slagging space bridge than Hot Shot could finally be far away from this horrible place!
A fresh wave of coolant flooding his optics, the red recruit turned into another room, shuffling to a stop as he realized he'd come across the bridge room. As if perfectly timed, his comm began to beep.
"Hot Shot, where are you?," Scorch's vocalizer started, his displeasure evident over the line. "I didn't see you before curfew. You know, I'm really starting to think you're avoiding me."
Hot Shot winced at the cutting words, wishing he'd never answered his comm. "N-no, Scorch, I-i... I am j-just assisting Boulder w-with some things. I-i'll be at the Academy a-again soon."
"Well, I'm hurt that you wouldn't even let me know that you were going out on a mission with the professors. I had hoped to meet up with you after my classes finished. Do you treat your teammates like this too?," the yellow youngling sighed in mild exasperation.
Hot Shot nearly wailed aloud at the harsh criticism. His spark couldn't bear the brunt of yet another cruel judgment against it, not right now. "I-i'm sorry, Scorch, p-please, I... I didn't m-mean to-"
"Hot Shot, I'm concerned about you," Scorch's vocalizer cut in, sounding soft and sincere. "You're not acting like yourself. Remember when we used to sneak into the arena to watch our favourit teams play in the championship games? Or when we dinged ourselves up training for cycles, daring each other to ridiculous challenges, and falling down, laughing our afts off, after all was said and done? What happened to that Hot Shot? That 'bot was courageous, fearless, outspoken... Someone I admired."
It was all lies, the multi-changer tried to tell himself, but the pro-star's words etched deeply into his processor, reminding him that he had changed... and look where it had brought him.
"Let's talk to Heatwave tomorrow," the other youngling continued, his even tone pulling the aching recruit into its spell, "We should bunk together. You need some one-on-one time with a friend. Whatever you're going through, you don't have to do it alone, okay?"
"...b-but...," Hot Shot protested weakly.
"Wedge's betrayal has hit your whole team hard. I think it's been worse for you most though," Scorch continued. "You spent over a stellar cycle with this mech -you trusted him, worked with him, shared experiences with him. Then he turned out to be one of those Decepticons. If he was really innocent, he would have told you all who he really was from the start. Thankfully, he never had a chance to hurt any of you before he was outed. Do you think this was another plot to assassinate Optimus Prime?"
The red recruit shook his helm jerkily, wishing to contradict his old friend but finding himself uncertain. Was Wedge just a spy, sent here to keep an optic on Optimus Prime? "N-no, no, I-i don't...," he feebly trailed off, his processor ache magnifying triple-fold.
"Well, maybe not," Scorch acquiesced readily, "But it is suspicious that Wedge felt it necessary to hide his true identity from you all."
"I... I g-guess," Hot Shot mumbled, dazed, "Wedge-"
"You're right. I shouldn't be talking about him when your wounds are still fresh," the yellow youngling interrupted again. "I'm sorry. Finish your thing with the professor and hurry home. You'll need your rest for tomorrow. And then we'll go see Heatwave about rooming together. You should have someone that'll have your back at all times; someone who'll listen and help you out when you get stuck. You know, a real friend. Like me."
Hot Shot shuffled over to the space bridge's terminal, resting shaking servos on the control panel. Unlike at the Academy, it responded to any Cybertronian energy signature; the display lighting up in a myriad of colours, granting the multi-changer full access. It would be so easy to just press the button and activate the space bridge...
"Come home, Hot Shot," the alluring vocalizer called.
One servo still pressed on his comm, Hot Shot nodded to no one, his other servo tapping the panel and turning the bridge on. "O-okay, I... I am," he informed, a numbness overtaking him.
"Good," Scorch seemed to purr, "And if this place really doesn't work out for us, we can always head back to Cybertron. I only want the best for you, Hot Shot."
"O-of course," the red youngling replied meekly, standing before the open portal, "I know, Scorch. You're always right."
"I am. See you in the morning." And then Scorch had disconnected from the call. Clutching an arm despairingly, Hot Shot took his first step towards the swirling blue vortex...
C.M.D: Dun-dun-daaaaaaa~
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?