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Prime likes to hold me up as an example of self-control. Brawn says I'm a stick-in-the-mud. Even Bumblebee is surprised at my reserve and lack of flash.
I'm the unknown Autobot. I'm the last one people remember and the one they know the least about. What makes that all the more amazing is that no one thinks I have anything to hide.
But I've got a secret. Optimus doesn't know, nor do Prowl and Jazz. Hoist and Ratchet don't know, and they've repaired me countless times. If Perceptor or Wheeljack knew, they'd flip a circuit.
Certainly, they all find my magnetic power useful. I can repel a shrapnel grenade, pull Bumblebee out of a crevice, or save Sunstreaker from a nasty fall. Everyone thinks it's a good trick, but that's all they think it is, certainly, they don't think it's as useful as Mirage's invisibility or Hound's holograms. And that's just the way I like it.
You see, I can kill with a thought. With my powers, I can rip a Transformer in half with little more than a wave of my hand. With just a gesture, I could wipe their hard drive and leave them a non-functioning lump.
If I ever chose to bring the full brunt of my powers into play, I could end this war on Earth in a day. I'd just find the Decepticons and let them have it. I'd be a hero. But I'd be giving up my spark. I'd no longer feel like an Autobot. And if the others knew what I could do, they'd be afraid of me.
I must always be in control. The slightest bit of anger, of rage, the slightest stray thought about what I'd like to do to Brawn after he nearly gets us killed again, and it would be all over for me, my true power revealed to all. The secret I've kept for so long, the secret that's helped keep me an Autobot, the secret that's kept me mortal in their eyes would be made as plain as day.
Thus I am the stick-in-the-mud. Thus I leave the flash and flare to the other Autobots. I'm content to play a supporting role, content to be known for a parlor trick.
It's better to be forgotten than to be feared.
Prime likes to hold me up as an example of self-control. Brawn says I'm a stick-in-the-mud. Even Bumblebee is surprised at my reserve and lack of flash.
I'm the unknown Autobot. I'm the last one people remember and the one they know the least about. What makes that all the more amazing is that no one thinks I have anything to hide.
But I've got a secret. Optimus doesn't know, nor do Prowl and Jazz. Hoist and Ratchet don't know, and they've repaired me countless times. If Perceptor or Wheeljack knew, they'd flip a circuit.
Certainly, they all find my magnetic power useful. I can repel a shrapnel grenade, pull Bumblebee out of a crevice, or save Sunstreaker from a nasty fall. Everyone thinks it's a good trick, but that's all they think it is, certainly, they don't think it's as useful as Mirage's invisibility or Hound's holograms. And that's just the way I like it.
You see, I can kill with a thought. With my powers, I can rip a Transformer in half with little more than a wave of my hand. With just a gesture, I could wipe their hard drive and leave them a non-functioning lump.
If I ever chose to bring the full brunt of my powers into play, I could end this war on Earth in a day. I'd just find the Decepticons and let them have it. I'd be a hero. But I'd be giving up my spark. I'd no longer feel like an Autobot. And if the others knew what I could do, they'd be afraid of me.
I must always be in control. The slightest bit of anger, of rage, the slightest stray thought about what I'd like to do to Brawn after he nearly gets us killed again, and it would be all over for me, my true power revealed to all. The secret I've kept for so long, the secret that's helped keep me an Autobot, the secret that's kept me mortal in their eyes would be made as plain as day.
Thus I am the stick-in-the-mud. Thus I leave the flash and flare to the other Autobots. I'm content to play a supporting role, content to be known for a parlor trick.
It's better to be forgotten than to be feared.