Hello, again. I hope you're ok.
Whowantsout: Thank you for your comment! I hope you'll enjoy future chapters too!
Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there may be some grammar mistakes.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.
-FOURTEEN-
ADJUSTING
The first thing he noticed, coming out of stasis, were the ceiling lights; shiny, white rectangles in a dull grey surface. Then came the distinguishable smell of sanitizer. A clinic. As his processor on-lined each system one by one, the white and black mech, slowly, remembered why he was there; he could clearly recall Ultra Magnus and Jazz, and the three Decepticons at Darkmount. "I got shot" recollected the law enforcer, as the moved his servo, attempting to reach his wound and finding fresh patches all over his side; plus, he could feel the small pull from the wires and tubes attached to his frame. Turning to take a better look, a pang of pain pierced through his neck wires, making him hiss and shut his optics close with a frown. His every articulation felt as if it had been in one position for days! Maybe he was… Checking his inner chronometer, the Praxian found out that he had been in stasis for over two solar-cycles. "And my brothers says I don't recharge enough" mentally mocked the white and black bot, just as a loud snore reached his audios.
"What the-…?" Making an effort, he turned to look at his right, and couldn't help but blink in surprise.
There, sitting in chairs, were his two brothers; both in deep recharge. X-Brawn, the eldest, was a bulky tall mech of teal and silver grey armor; he was a trained warrior from the War Academy ―one of the last generations who actually went there before the war hit the planet. Meanwhile, Side Burn, the youngest, was as tall as Prowl, and, although he didn't have actual door-wings, he did have a pair of winglets on his back; being built for speed, it wasn't a surprise that, one day, he chose to decorate his already electric blue frame with cerulean flames ―even when that earned him a good lecture from both his brothers, who stated that it wasn't the right looks for a future Elite Guard; which training program he had already entered. And, as if that wasn't enough, Side Burn, somehow, decided that it would be an awesome idea to combine the new paintjob with amber-colored glass for his windows… Later on, they met Hot Rod, Side Burn's friend from the training program, and everything suddenly made sense.
It was hard for an outsider to tell the three of them were related; and it was even stranger whenever they stated that they were triplets, the only set known among ground-bounded bots ―after all, for siblings to be born in packs of three was a Seekers' thing; grounders were, either, born alone or with a twin, but that was it. Their different appearances had been once excused by the doctors, due to the fact that their hatches were the furthest from their hot spot's center, and, thus, ended right atop a triple frontier; thanks to it ―everyone believes― their frames forged with very dissimilar characteristics… Nonetheless, their genetic print and spark-energy didn't lie: they were brothers. However, that didn't explain another abnormally among them, which was the fact of being born at different times: X-Brawn hatched first, followed by Prowl, and, then, Side Burn. The three of them had, at least, a stellar-cycle of difference.
Fortunately, though, the bots in charge of watching over their hot spot realized their hatches were interconnected, and took them all to the same nursery…
The trio remained together ever since, always being there for whenever one of them was in need of help.
Suddenly another loud snore came out of the Eldest Triplet, whose head was fallen atop his chest. It made the law enforcer grimace, remembering the days when they all lived together… And how unfunny it was to recharge in the same room as the teal mech… Well, 'recharge' may be a stretch; more like 'intermittently coming in and out of power down, thanks to X-Brawn's loud vents'. In one occasion, when they were younglings, Prowl could remember himself throwing a data-pad at his sibling in hopes to make it stop… And the fact that Side Burn clapped in approval, when the Eldest Triplet jolted out of his recharge, thus rolling off his berth. That cycle, they decided to stop sharing a room, for everyone's best interests.
However, it was the next snore which finally forced Side Burn ―who had been resting his head atop his brother's shoulder junction― to wake up with a start, and frantically look around, almost as if a Decepticon was coming to get him. Disoriented, finally concluding that there was no visible danger in the proximities, it took him a moment to realize what happened when the teal mech to his right let out another one of his infamous snores. At this, he frowned and slapped X-Brawn's arm in retaliation for the rude wakening. The action, in turn, brought the oldest one back online too.
"Slaggit, bro… It's like you've rocks rolling around in your tank…" complained the Youngest Triplet, rubbing his optics, while resting his elbows on his tights.
"Never told yah to stay 'ere with me, Side…" retorted X-Brawn, yawning and stretching his back, completely unfazed by the comment. Coming from his brothers, it was old news to him.
"So glad of having my own apartment, with my own berth-room, right now…"
"Says the mech who used to climb onto my berth when having a nightmare" chuckled the teal bot, smirking and dedicating a side look at his companion, who was now glaring at him.
"Hey! I was like four vorns-old, back then!"
"Don't fight…" Prowl pleaded, his voice-box feeling a bit screechy after the lack of use; yet, it was enough to make his two companions turn their attention to him.
"You're awake!" The blue one celebrated with a big grin, jumping off his seat, and running to the medical berth's side.
"You nearly gave us a spark-attack!" The oldest brother lectured, following the other's actions.
"Sorry about that" apologized Prowl, wishing he could sit just so he could talk more comfortably with his siblings, whose body language evidenced their relief. None of them was used to him being the reckless one of the trio… In fact, the Middle Triplet used to be the one in charge of chasing after the other two, reminding them to have some regard for their personal safety. This was an unexpected turn of the tables.
That was when he realized of something: he never told these two he was in trouble.
"How did you-…?"
"Ah called them" interrupted a fourth voice with a thick Polyhexian accent.
Shortly after, the Triplets were looking at the doorway, where Jazz was standing with a pair of Energon cubes in his hands, and a smirk clear on his face. He couldn't stay long, since his superior officer was practically venting on his neck-wires, but he had been dropping by to visit the Praxian ―plus his two men, who were at the same clinic, and who were released the day before.
Noticing his Amica Endura was straining himself to have a glance at him, the Special Ops officer walked up to the Triplets and handed the fuel to Prowl's brothers, before turning to look at the Middle one.
"How're yah feelin'?" The Polyhexian asked, worried too.
"I'll tell you when the stasis-lock wears off…" answered the Praxian, relaxing, and earning a smirk from his Amica. "Thanks for the assist, Jazz."
"Dat's what friends are for: savin' each other's aft" chuckled the white mech, grinning and giving his partner a thumbs up.
The ghost of a smirk was barely visible in Prowl's lips at the rebuke, knowing his friend was referring to the countless times they help one another stay alive during the war; especially whenever they were sent behind enemy lines, without means to call for backup.
"Well, I'm glad you saved him; so, now, I get to kick his aft" interjected X-Brawn, crossing his arms and dedicating an irritated arched optic-ridge at his younger brother.
Unimpressed, the law enforcer rolled his optics and shook his head, aware that his sibling's banter was pure noise without actual background to sustain it… Besides, he hadn't been able to defeat him in a spar since both of them joined the Autobots ―being a natural tactician, Prowl knew all of his brothers' soft spots, and knew how to use them when needed.
The teal mech, however, didn't appreciate the reaction he got…
"Don't roll your optics at me! I'm still the eldest here!"
"Nonetheless, I remain the wisest, old timer…" rebuked Prowl, arching an optic ridge in his brother direction.
"That was before you decided to storm Darkmount on your own! What the frag were you thinking?!" X-Brawn countered, gesturing wildly, and nearly taking part of Jazz's face due to it ―the short mech had to take a step back to prevent getting a back-slap to the mouth.
"Yeah! None of us knows what was left behind by the 'Cons up there! What if an Insecticon decided to make you his dinner?" agreed Side Burn, stepping forward.
At this, Prowl couldn't help himself. Struggling between the wires, tubes and the stasis-lock yet coursing through his systems, the law enforcer pushed himself upwards until he was capable of sitting up in order to dedicate a pointed look at his two siblings.
"First of: Side Burn, you don't get to talk about safety here, not with your past record; and especially not when remembering all the times I had to pull your exhaust pipe out of a tight spot ―and I'm not talking about the war here!" He lectured the Youngest Triplet, pointing at him with an accusatorial digit. The blue bot seemed to shrink by the second with each word… "Second: commander Ultra Magnus and I were merely following a lead in a case. We had no idea that we would run into Shockwave, out of all mechs…" He, then, clarified for the Eldest Triplet. "At least, I didn't know; otherwise I would've taken more precautions. Jazz knows what I'm talking about."
"Fifth quadrant's slums?" piped up the Special Ops, arching an optic-ridge behind his visor, and smirking upon receiving a nod. "Yup. Ah know what yer talking 'bout. He was off the loop, X." The Polyhexian, then, added dedicating a smile to the worried siblings.
The teal mech seemed to ponder over the matter for a few kliks, before sighing and accepting the explanation. Besides, it was true that Prowl never took a jump without previously measure the distance with upmost care; so, it was most unlikely for him to suddenly decide to merrily walk into a Decepticon trap without having come up with half dozen contingency plans. As such, he would let this pass…
Nonetheless, he couldn't help but wonder what did the commander and his brother gotten into…
… … …
Ultra Magnus, meanwhile, was on his way out of the Council's tower. He wasn't all-too-sure how in the world they got to know about the incident at Kaon so fast, but they were quick to call him to a meeting; then, they proceeded to berate him for about a joor, stating that he had exercised an incredibly reckless behavior due to which he was, hereby, suspended from his functions ―only for a couple of days, because of the current lack of law enforcers at the planet's surface; but, still, it was humiliating to be treated as an incompetent cadet. "Rusted bags of slag" mentally cursed the commander, remembering how nobody spared one single breem as to listen to his warnings. He didn't care about the penalty for his actions; they could suspend, fire or demote him for all the Wrecker cared. But, what he couldn't forgive was how, despite he practically begged them to look into the cyclops disappearance, all they did was turn him away. How could they? That guy was one of Megatron's most trusted officers, and a wanted fugitive from justice due to his unethical experiments ―Grimlock's team being living proof of those. He couldn't let Shockwave get away with it; nor could he allow the Seekers to run free, considering how dangerous they were. "Jazz found a space-bridge underneath the tower; wherever they are now, it's not on Cybertron" kept thinking the blue mech as he drove towards the clinic, to check on Prowl's status. The guy lost plenty Energon on his way to the clinic, and had been in power down for two days.
He felt bad for it… He should've warned the mech about Shockwave being involved. They were unprepared.
As he reached the building, the commander transformed and entered, bumping into Jazz who was on his way out ―his superior wanted to see him to discuss some mission of his. Thanks to it, the tall mech got to know that Prowl was now conscious ―and having a 'family discussion' with his brothers. This made Ultra Magnus arch a curious eyebrow, since, despite having heard of the Autobot Triplets, he had never seen the three of them together; thus far, he had only heard rumors about it. So, it wasn't much of a surprise for him to suddenly freeze upon finally having the three brothers in front of his very optics; fortunately he recomposed soon enough, and walked up to the Middle Triplet, asking for his status.
"I'm alright, sir. Thanks for asking" answered the white and black mech, with a polite dip of the head. "These are my brothers: X-Brawn and Side Burn." He introduced, gesturing to each.
"Soldiers" greeted the Wrecker, dipping his head in their direction.
"Sir" responded the teal one, relaxed.
"Commander Ultra Magnus, sir!" saluted the blue one, who wore the Elite Guard's shield in his chest. Evidently, he was aware of his past as a member of said unit ―even if it was a lifetime ago.
After the greetings, Prowl asked the other two triplets to leave them alone for a couple kliks; he had to discuss some matters concerning the case with the Wrecker. Understanding, X-Brawn and Side Burn walked out of the room. Only then did the Praxian admit that, when Skywarp attacked him, back at the tower, he kept asking only one thing: Knock Out's whereabouts.
With widened optics, suspecting what happened during those minutes in which the 'Cons were out of sight, the commander called back to the police department. If he was correct, then he had to warn the team; ASAP.
Meanwhile, unaware of this all, back on Earth, Team Prime was enjoying of a playful sparring session.
"Get the frag off me!"
And they decided to include certain red medic in the exercise; therefore Knock Out's current predicament, where he found himself trapped underneath Bulkhead…
It had been a few weeks now, since his arrival to the planet, and since, thus far, his advances with the Autobots were slow, the Velocitronian couldn't help but feel happy when they invited him to join their training ―he would never admit it out loud, but the need of being trusted and accepted became greater by the day. So he followed Bumblebee and the others, who stablished the rules: they would split in two teams of three bots; there would be no weapons allowed, and the last bot standing would bring the victory for his team. Of course, the yellow warrior picked the former 'Con as one of his teammates, due to their legal situation; Smokescreen joining them as the third bot. As such, the second trio was made by the two Wreckers and Arcee.
Needless to say that the red surgeon found this distribution a bit unfair, given his fighting skills… But, still, decided to play by their rules and said nothing about it. He probably should've, though; because as soon as the match started ―his sights on Arcee, considering that he had better chances going against the two-wheeler―, the Velocitronian was intercepted and ended up wrestling with Bulkhead ―he still had no idea how that even happened. As a result, Knock Out was now in a very awkward position, in which the green bot was currently sitting on him ―again, not really sure how that happened; all he knew was that, if he didn't break free in the next bunch of minutes, he would be compacted until there was nothing but a red pancake. "Ugh! Enough of this!" thought the surgeon, right before stabbing the warrior's bottom with his claws. Fortunately, it was enough to make the heavy mech jump off the former Decepticon, who picked himself up the best he could.
"As a doctor, I strongly suggest you to go on a diet!" Knock Out complained, venting erratically, while massaging his mistreated husk.
"Heh, heh… Big protoform?" Bulkhead laughed, while patting his midsection. "Okay, time out is over. Let's roll!"
…
While the others were too busy throwing themselves around the room, Ratchet was standing at the room's entrance, monitoring his friends, and making sure that they respected the rules. If anybody started to show signs of being too tired, or of being hurt, he would immediately stop the exercise. Since the children weren't with them (Miko was back on Japan, Rafael was at school, and Jack was at the public library, studying for a mid-term), it was one of those rare occasions in which the bots had their base all for themselves. Deep inside, Ratchet had to admit that he didn't exactly enjoyed those days of solitude when he was the only Autobot remaining on Earth… Though he would never admit it, the times when the children weren't with him were boring. The silence was too loud to be bearable, even for him. The old medic couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. When he first met the children, he couldn't wait to leave the planet and leave the humans behind; yet, now, he couldn't stand to be kept in the silence, knowing that the kids were nowhere around. He became too attached to them.
The sound of tiny footsteps called the medic's attention, whose gaze met Agent Fowler's silhouette as the middle-age man entered the room, using the catwalks that he prepared for their human friends.
The governmental agent smirked at the scene, while resting his weight onto the security riel.
"Sparring?" He asked, amused. To be honest, the man had missed these sort of situations… Things had been rather slow since the bots returned to their planet.
"Just for fun." Ratchet answered, shrugging a little bit. "Since the children aren't here, we require other ways of entertainment."
"I see." Fowler chuckled.
It always amazed him the fondness that the bots had with those kids, and vice versa. Even the old doc learned to love the children… On his own way, of course, but he did.
As a loud grunt made him turn his attention to the Autobots who were currently jumping, running, and practicing multiple kicks and hits; thanks to it, the agent couldn't help but focus on the red figure of the former Decepticon who, once, locked him and June inside his trunk. The idea of him being so amiable with the team was almost surreal…
"How is our guest doing?" Fowler wondered, pointing at Knock Out with a nod of his head.
"He's… adjusting to his new environment." The old bot answered, looking at the former Decepticon. "I must say, Agent Fowler, that he is showing some progress. Bumblebee might be right about him after all…" He added, looking at the federal agent.
Meanwhile, Arcee was trapped between Smokescreen's arms, twisting, trying to break free; but it was hopeless, and none on her team was available to lend her a hand at the moment… Looking around, Wheeljack was too entertained with Bumblebee, and Bulkhead was having trouble with Knock Out ―much to everyone's surprise. The red medic was too fast for the big green bot, and was fully aware of it; so, it was evident that the guy was simply wearing him off. "Seriously, guys? You're supposed to be Wreckers!" thought the two-wheeler, seeing the scene while wiggling, trying to find a way out of her current position. Unfortunately, as she believed to have found an escape, Smokescreen switched tactics and pinned her against the floor.
Sure, in compare to being trapped underneath Bulkhead ―being there, done that―, the Elite Guard was as light as a feather; however, he was still a mech, which meant heavier armor, and was yet taller than her, which also meant greater weight. As such, after a few minutes, Arcee tapped her way out of the spar, and, once freed, walked up to Ratchet; the old medic quickly scanning her over, making sure she didn't get hurt, before focusing back on the rest.
Up in the catwalks, she noticed Fowler and waved at the agent, who winked back on her direction.
After the femme's surrender, Smokescreen glanced at his two teammates, trying to choose who to help first. Knock Out was a clearly obvious option, since he wasn't the fiercest nor the greatest warrior around; but, when noticing that the surgeon was doing well, the blue mech decided that Bumblebee needed an assist more than the former Decepticon. The yellow mech was currently cornered by Wheeljack, who was threatening with defeating the former scout; so, being the good partner he was, Smokescreen decided to lend him a hand… And failed miserably, thanks to his tendency of yelling whenever he performed a flying kick, which completely blew up his element of surprise. As such, instead of kicking the white mech away from Bumblebee, the Wrecker turned around and, dodging the hit, sent the young blue mech flying straight into the nearer wall with one punch…
Smokescreen ―slightly stunned due to the crash with the hard surface― pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the old medic and Arcee, whose smirk spoke volumes about how pleased she was to see how little he lasted in the game. "Scrap…" mentally cursed the young mech, as he, too, noticed the human and dedicated a wave at the guy, before dropping himself on the floor, sitting with both his knees bended and resting his forearms on them.
That was when the Elite Guard couldn't help his gasp of surprise upon watching the remaining bots. Even when they've fought in the past, this was the first time he noticed just how fast the red medic truly was; and how accurate when it came to time measurement ―Knock Out seemed to have part of his processor on the spar, and another part on his inner chronometer; counting to the last astro-cycle possible, before gracefully jumping out of Bulkhead's reach. And, he wouldn't be wrong with that theory. He was actually doing that.
Being a Velocitronian granted the surgeon a couple of enhancements in matters of reflexes and awareness about the pass of time ―technically, he was faster too, but, thanks to his glitch… He would rather not discuss it.
Nonetheless, the green Wrecker was heavily panting already, while Knock Out didn't seem to be anywhere close of becoming tired. "Breakdown would be proud" mused the medic, as he dodged yet another incoming punch, remembering how the blue warrior made him practice evasive maneuvers all the time when they were about to enlist ―evidently knowing that there was no physical way for Knock Out to defeat a bot his size on a real fight. The former Stuncticon made sure to teach him how to fight at a distance, and get away if the enemy got too close to his frame…
Eventually, after leaping and rolling away from Bulkhead's reach one more time, the Velocitronian couldn't help but watch his Autobot opponent with a sympathetic smirk. He had definitely worn out the poor guy. Maybe he should try and do some wrestling with him, just not to completely humiliate the Wrecker? Breakdown, even when he was helping him stay alive, used to get annoyed over the fact that he always managed to dodge every punch and kick the big lug sent on his way; so, perhaps…
Thinking about this, he nearly got hit, and was forced to reestablish the distance between him and the larger mech. Now remembering that a single punch from this guy could lob him back Cybertron, without much effort, Knock Out decided to stick to his strategy until Bulkhead was too tired as to continue…
A sudden noise made the surgeon turn around, noticing that Bumblebee had just connected a kick with Wheeljack's chin. Thus, dumfounded, the white bot unsteadily backpedaled a few steps, before coming to a halt and shaking his head to clean his thoughts. In the meantime, the yellow mech had noticed that there were only four bots in competition and an idea made him grin and ran next to the former Decepticon, whose optics were back on the green Autobot.
"Hey!" called the former scout, getting the surgeon's attention and a questioning look. "Have you ever played 'Chicken'?" Bumblebee asked, quirking an optic-ridge, big smirk on place.
The quizzical look on Knock Out's eyes, suddenly turned into a bright wide mischievous smile, as he understood the reference.
Nodding at the warrior's implication, and putting himself on position, the red medic stood still; both were now back-to-back, facing their opponents and waiting patiently… Eventually, both Wreckers ran towards the smaller mechs. The Velocitronian and the Cybertronian stood their ground as long as they could, until Bumblebee decided that it was time, and flexed his knees to jump away; however, Knock Out grabbed him by the wrist and told him to wait a bit longer…
A bit longer…
"Now!" The red bot suddenly yelled, while pulling his companion out of the way.
Before being able to stop, Bulkhead and Wheeljack crashed into each other, losing the fight; meanwhile, the two muscle car bots, now sitting on the ground side to side, looked at the scene with an amused look on the eyes. The scene was so ridiculous that this whole experience was completely worth it in Knock Out's optics.
In the background, meanwhile, Smokescreen and Arcee burst out in laughs, finding hard to believe that the two seasoned Wreckers fell for that one. Fowler couldn't help but chuckle too ―pathetically attempting to cover it up with a fake cough at the glare, both, Bulkhead and Wheeljack dedicated him. Even Ratchet felt a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, especially because the white Wrecker usually liked to drive him insane for sport. This was a nice change…
"Well, I believe that the winners are Bumblebee, Knock Out and Smokescreen" declared the white and orange medic.
"Alright!" celebrated the Elite Guard, jumping to his feet and running towards his teammates who had just picked themselves off the ground.
Both, the yellow warrior and the scarlet surgeon soon found themselves trapped by a blue arm each, as Smokescreen hugged them both in celebration of their victory. Though Bumblebee was quick to join his friend in the joy, even jumping a little bit out of it; Knock Out, surprised and startled by the sudden show of affection, immediately asked the younger mech to release him, stating that he wasn't a fan of physical contact.
"C'mon, Knock Out… We're celebrating!" retorted the yellow warrior, smiling, and returning the side-hug from his friend.
The medic rolled his optics.
"Hooray…" begrudgingly cheered the Velocitronian, mockingly pumping a fist in the air. "Can you, now, let me go already?" He, then, added, frowning at Smokescreen's happy face.
Despite he didn't buy the whole sour humor act, the Elite Guard complied the medic's wishes, and removed his arm from the red bot's shoulders.
With the sparring session over, all the bots walked out of the training room, towards the wash racks; all but Knock Out, who preferred to clean himself up on his private shower, back at his assigned quarters. Bumblebee shrugged, and said that it was alright with him, but nevertheless reminded the former Decepticon that they were going to pick up Raf afterwards. All which earned him a simple nod, and a 'Yeah, yeah… I know…' as the surgeon walked down the hallway, to his personal room. Then, the yellow bot disappeared next to the other three mechs into the wash racks that were located outside the training rooms. Arcee went to the showers designated for femmes ―the old chief medical officer thought about every single little detail when designing the new base.
As his friends left the room, Ratchet uploaded the training results to the mainframe; still in company of Fowler, who seemed to be troubled by something. The old medic glanced towards the man, arching an optic-ridge in silent questioning; however, as he didn't receive any answer, the bot chose to ask out loud if there was something bothering the agent.
"It's nothing…" Fowler assured, although it was clearly a lie.
Ratchet blinked a couple times, before realizing.
"Is it about Knock Out?" The bot pressed, cocking his head to the side.
"Well… Yeah" admitted the man, slowly, treading lightly. "I mean… I've been watching that 'Con ever since 'Bee brought him in, and I'm still trying to figure him out." He said, scratching the back of his neck, averting his eyes as if he was thinking about some riddle. "He acts-… He is just-… Weird. There's no other way to put it. One minute, he's all gloomy and silent, and the next one, he's actually behaving as if he was another Autobot. I just don't get it…" The human stated, crossing his arms and looking straight to the medic, who sighed.
"Agent Fowler, you must understand his situation…" The bot said, massaging his forehead. "He's trying his best, but, as I said, he's still adjusting."
"Meaning…?"
"We were his enemies during a war that lasted eons; however, circumstances now forced him to actually live with us, so I believe it's safe to say that there's a stress building up within him at the moment. After all, I don't believe he has forgotten his past deeds, which are probably passing their toll as we speak" explained the medic, crossing his arms.
"'Past deeds' doesn't cut it… You know I was trapped inside his trunk, right?" snorted the man, pointing at himself with a thumb.
"At least you didn't have a buzzsaw on your face" bit back the bot, narrowing his optics and arching an eyebrow. The remark was enough as to make the agent shrink for a minute. "But, what I just said still stands… Knock Out's showing signs of regret and remorse; so…" Ratchet pointed with a sigh, dropping his arms and shaking his head.
"Wait. 'Regret and remorse'? Are you saying that Narcissus, here, has a conscience?" Fowler wondered in disbelief.
The mech limited to nod, serious.
"Though I don't have the authority as to state it in a medical way, I can say that he's now dealing with his past… And he is healing, at his own rhythm. It's for everyone's best interest to allow him to deal with this in peace. If we push him too far, too fast, he might close himself inside of his bubble again, and the process, then, would have to start all over again…" He made a small grimace as a thought came to his processor; pondering over the red mech's unusual behavior, and comparing it with what he had recently seen, Ratchet was beginning to believe that Knock Out's strange and hyperbolic narcissism may also be a defense mechanism of his…
Especially because traces of said behavior had been decreasing in the past few days, as the red mech became more accustomed to their company.
…
While the head medical officer was musing about the Velocitronian's mental health, the mech was already driving away with Bumblebee, who was leading the way towards Jasper.
As usual on those lands, it was a warm day, with a bright clean sky, and a scorching sun; however, there was a soft breeze that made the weather really pleasant. Though he would never admit it in public, the Aston Martin couldn't help but feel grateful of being able of returning to this rock. It was nice to be away from all the trouble from Cybertron…
The peaceful silence, however, was interrupted by the sound of the Camaro taking in a deep vent; thing that made the other car chuckle, thinking that it was only expectable of someone like his companion to show such happiness towards their current environment.
"What?" Bumblebee wondered, but he didn't receive an answer. "Oh, c'mon! Don't tell me you didn't miss Earth at all, because I'm not buying it! I bet you were excited about feeling the road, the dust, the air-…!"
"The bugs…" Knock Out interrupted his companion, as he felt another invertebrate creature plopping onto his grill.
"Well, nothing can be perfect…" admitted the warrior ―he, too, hated the feeling of those; and that's without mentioning the few times in which a bird decided to relieve itself atop of him. "Anyway, one shower and you'll be like new." He, nonetheless, shrugged it off in the end.
Knock Out simply sighed, rather playfully.
"Whatever you say."
"Hey, if it would help you feeling more comfortable about this, what about a race? Huh? C'mon; the first one in reaching the town wins." Bumblebee proposed, poking his companion's Achilles's heel. He knew about the medic being a speed junkie, reason why he rarely missed a street race. However, the red mech didn't answer. "What's the matter? Racing isn't fun when you're actually invited?"
"It's not that, it's just-…" Knock Out bit his tongue, refusing to talk about the matter, and searched for another excuse. "I don't really feel like racing at the moment." He stated with a calm voice. "Though I am curious about this trip; I mean, wouldn't it be much more efficient to simply open a bridge for the kids, instead of actually go for them?"
"And where's the fun in that?" Bumblebee questioned.
"Fun?" repeated the former Decepticon, sounding honestly confused.
"Yeah. For us it's fun to carry the children; besides, it allow us to chat with them."
"Okay, you totally lost me there…"
The Camaro chuckled.
"Don't worry, you'll understand."
Back at base, Ratchet was at the control room, listening the Wreckers' voices as they walked towards the training room with their lobbing ball in hand (he was still wondering how did those two manage to bring that thing with them); meanwhile, Jack called asking Arcee to pick him up, and Smokescreen was napping at his quarters. It was a moment of silence and peace for the old medic, who was calibrating the scanners' software; or, at least, trying to. The damned program still tended to glitch from time to time, freezing out of the blue. Hopefully, once Bumblebee returned to base with Rafael, the child may help him to fix the bug.
The old mech was so concentrated on his task that he jerked on his place when the mainframe pinged, announcing an incoming call. Laughing at his own silliness, Ratchet calmed down and answered, unable to hide his surprise when Ultra Magnus's face appeared on the screen.
The blue bot greeted his old friend, but didn't waste time, and immediately hurried to warn the medic: they were in danger. And it was his fault…
That's all for now! Hope you liked it!
One small warning though: my vacations had been cut short, so it may be a while before I update any of my stories... Sorry.
'Til next time!
