C.M.D: It's been a while since I pumped out more RBA stuff, but we've finally got another set to the continuous story line with my two fave recruits! A handful more to come sometime in the near-ish future, promise! Get ready to board the angst train! IMPORTANT: This story does contain some non-con elements, so it will be trimmed here. Uncensored version can be found on my Archive account (links available on my profile page). Happy reading, folk~
It was a gorgeous orn at the Academy, warm and sunny, with just enough of a breeze to tease the edges of one's audial fins. All in all a great orn for a game of Cube! Hot Shot leapt over Medix's back, skidding under Hoist's legs and bouncing back to his pedes- all in one fluid motion. He jumped to reach for the flying game piece, when he caught the flicker of grey from the corner of his one optic. Helm craning back, he was just in time to see Whirl snap an arm over his shoulder tire, leveraging her grip to use the other recruit's frame as an additional boost to her leap. His momentum cut short, Hot Shot was falling back to the ground, giving the femme the opportunity she needed to grab the cube.
"Medix!," the multi-changer yelled, searching for the white youngling.
The less-athletically inclined recruit was tripping his way over, features twisted in perplexion. "Wha- AAAHH!" His scream was cut short as Hot Shot yanked him forward, using his own frame to propel the medic up and into the air.
"Grab it, Medix!," the red youngling yelled.
Whirl's servos had already closed around the metal contraption, but at the hasty order, Medix righted himself and slapped his servos on the cube as well- an astrosecond before his sudden ability to fly was over and he crashed back down to the Earth, dragging the other recruit with him.
"I-is everyone okay?!," Hoist yelped, rushing over to the entangled younglings.
"S-Sorry!," Hot Shot started, jogging over as well. "I didn't mean-"
"Energon consumption complete," the cube's mechanical vocalizer intoned loudly, cutting off anything further that the recruits might have said. Hot Shot poked his helm from around Hoist's arm, optics searching wildly for the deactivating game piece. The multi-changer was sure to break out into a broad grin when he saw that the dormant cube was held firmly in Medix's servos; a few inches from Whirl's fingers, no less.
"Medix, you did it! You won the game!," the red youngling exclaimed excitedly, hopping up and down in unbridled glee.
"Y-yes, it would s-seem so," Medix frowned, dropping the cube and trying to roll onto his pedes. Whirl's knees were still locked between his legs, unfortunately. "But could you not throw me around, Hot Shot! I barely had time to process the imbalance to my equilibrium chip!"
"Ah, so... give you more heads up next time then, yeah?," Hot Shot grinned, shooting his white friend a thumbs up.
Medix only groaned, letting his helm drop back to the outdoor gym's tarmac. Whirl, meanwhile, had finally got her ankles free and was easing up into a stand, with a helping hand from Hoist.
There was a scowl fixed to her face. At the sight of it, the white recruit quickly sat back up, facing the femme guiltily. "Whirl, I must apologize. You were surely going to win, but I-"
The blue youngling shook her helm firmly, a raised servo silencing her friend's hasty words. "N-no, no... You guys won, fair and square. I just-," she paused, stamping a pede and growling loudly, before a competitive smirk spread across her face. "Me and Hoist will win next time! Just you watch, Medix! Hot Shot's not the only one who can master Cube!"
Though it was a little unnerving, seeing the police 'bot get so fired up, Hot Shot and Medix could only smile and nod in return. When Whirl got this intense, it sometimes wasn't worth it to argue.
"Great! Expect a colossal take-down, buckos!," she exclaimed, jabbing a thumbs-up in each of their faces.
"...aaaaaaand," Hoist gently cut in, his vocalizer resetting as he tried to distract the femme, "It's time to go now. C'mon, Whirl. You said you were going to help me out this afternoon, right? I gotta head out."
Whirl looked back at the teal youngling, her yellow optics wide and curious again. "Oh? OH! Oh, yes, certainly, Hoist! I'm still coming!," she chirped, popping a sticker out of her subspace and plastering one each to Medix and Hot Shot. "Great game, guys. We gotta go now!"
"Ah, but," Hot Shot called out, as his two friends began to walk away from the track field, "I thought we were going to play another round of Cube!"
Hoist and Whirl were already at the edge of the training gym before she looked back over a shoulder plating. "Sorry, Hot Shot," she called, an arm waving, "Maybe later, after we get back from Hoist's thing. I promise it'll be soon! Thanks for the fun, by the way."
The red youngling only sighed, shoulders sagging as his comrades continued their trek to some unknown destination and out of sight completely. "Holy Primus, they are constantly studying some new and odd thing on Earth. Don't you think they would have gotten tired of it by now?"
"I'm sure you'll have less to complain about once Wedge himself returns from Faxian," Medix commented smartly, now standing and wiping the dirt from his frame. It was an incomplete clean, and seeing the grass scuffs sticking resolutely to his normally regulation-pristine plating displeased the medic. "In the meantime, I applaud those two for being so thorough on their Earth studies. It's something that is heavily lacking from the Academy curriculum and that you, Hot Shot, could greatly benefit from the most."
Hot Shot, already blushing from the mention of their missing friend, could only splutter further from the subtle slight. "I k-know stuff about E-earth!," he rebutted, weakly.
The white recruit only stared across the tarmac at the other youngling, lip components pursed in a look of mute judgment; a full ten astroseconds passing, before his optics finally redirected from the nervous multi-changer. "I must go now. I only have three cycles left to catalogue the medbay's sample depository before I need to get started on the orn's chores."
"W-wait, that's not a chore?," Hot Shot shouted out incredulously, as Medix started to walk back towards the Academy. "You're not even going to play a game of one-on-one with me?!"
"Some of us enjoy order and tidiness," the other youngling called in return, not even bothering to spare a glance at the rapidly deflating recruit, "I would suggest you find something equally as fulfilling if you're in need of further stimulus."
The red Autobot only groaned. "I don't even know what that means!"
Medix did not stop and within a few more astroseconds, Hot Shot found himself all alone on the Academy grounds. Grumbling, he dropped the deactivated Cube back into the box of outdoor things, dragging his pedes on his route back into the building. He figured (though it made him grimace in exaggerated fashion) that he might as well do as Medix suggested and get started on his own chores... but first, the multi-changer grinned, tip-toeing past the closed classroom doors, he was going to check on something.
Descending into the lower levels of the school, the Autobot bypassed the student lounge and its few arcade consoles, heading straight for the recruits' quarters in the back. As per usual, doors sat half-opened or unlocked while the students were away... all except for the one belonging to Wedge. It was firmly shut and locked; Hot Shot knew, he'd given it an experimental pull a few orns' into the orange recruit's absence. Dutifully ignoring the hard knotting of his fuel tanks, the red youngling quickly moved past the door, shooting for the jumbled mess of his own room visible to the whole hall.
If any of the professors were around, they would have been understandably appalled by the state of the red recruit's room... but, it wasn't room inspection orn for at least another two orns, so that was something Hot Shot would worry about another time. Hopping about to avoid the landslide of comic books on his floor, the youngling bounded off to the side of his berth and bumped against his desk, sending a collection of datapads to clatter to the ground along with the rest of the mess. For the time being, it wasn't of any significance to the multi-changer, but when he failed to find his tablet among the scattered pens and game pieces on his desktop, Hot Shot took to the floor with a huff and began wildly sweeping the clutter around in hopes of finding the device.
It took several kliks (and resorting to a harried, sloppy clean up that left his homework spread out between two bins of unsorted junk), before Hot Shot had located his tablet- under the large, orange cushion thrown over his berth. Weird, the recruit thought, tapping the screen gently. He was sure he'd left it under his copy of 'First Responder's Critical Key Assessment' manual, just behind his science homework, but in the drawer on his desk of game drives Cody had lent him... Well, he'd probably just forgotten that he'd moved it, the Autobot decided, seeing as he'd done that three times alone the other orn. What he really cared about just then was-
Hot Shot tensed, a thrum of excitement shooting along his neural net.
The little notification bubble on his tablet was floating above all the other apps.
Wedge had messaged him!
Plating practically fluttering at the seams, the red youngling tapped on the icon, his optics darting around the screen as the app fully loaded. A quick, neutral greeting- yet, it was sent a collective of six kliks ago.
Hot Shot was almost bouncing on his berth as his fingers tapped across the tablet's face.
'Hey! Aren't you supposed to be recharging right about now?'
The recruit sat, waiting, a crackle of anxiety seeping into his sensory net. What time exactly was it in Faxian? Was he too late to reply to Wedge, despite his friend's message having come in just a tiny bit ago? What if the orange youngling had already settled in for the night?
He was so busy debating if he should even be bothering the other recruit, that Hot Shot failed to notice the little scrawling blurb icon pop up on the app below his text. He did, however, hear the tablet's obnoxious ping, notifying the multi-changer that he had another message.
'Can't recharge at the moment. Was thinking of you.'
A goofy grin spread itself across Hot Shot's face upon reading those words.
'Same. Been a bit boring here, honestly. How is the project going? Any update on when you'll be finished?'
It was a long wait for a corresponding response; a wait that wasn't so bad, the red youngling tried to reason with himself. Still, he vented heavily with relief when a following text finally came through from Wedge.
'Bored? Are the others not keeping you happy? Or is that Scorch bothering you again?'
Hot Shot's fingers were held frozen over the tablet, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his lip components.
'No,' he hesitantly wrote, 'It's not that...'
He paused, unsure of how to continue. Why would Wedge even bring up Scorch in the first place? He knew that talking about his ex-friend was uncomfortable for the shorter recruit... Didn't he? Mild discomfort became budding nausea. Hot Shot found himself in doubt; he knew that he didn't like bringing up the athlete-turned-rescue recruit, but it was just one of those many things that the red Autobot had never actually vocalized with the triple-changer. It was tangled up in there with the secret conversations and the little trips to the compactor room and the great, whirling pot of things inside that Hot Shot kept quiet on, thinking that if he spoke about them, then-
'What's he done? You know you can talk to me about anything. I'll listen to anything. I'll even teach that aft a lesson or two.'
'I don't really want to talk about him,' Hot Shot hurried to text back, his discomfort growing at the mention of violence in Wedge's text. Obviously, the orange youngling had many reasons to be angry at Scorch, but threats were a bit much... Or, at least, the multi-changer thought so. 'I want to hear about how your orn was? What's the weather like in Faxian right now? Did you get to do anything with High Tide?'
A stretch of silence, as Hot Shot sat hunched over his tablet, waiting to see what his friend's response would be. It was, sadly, a fairly disappointing message.
'It was alright. I'm a bit too tired to go over details. How about you send me some pics?'
Well, the red recruit chastised himself quietly, what did he expect? Wedge had a full orn of work on that construction project across the globe, and here he was, way past recharge time, texting the Autobot; he was bound to be incredibly tired.
'Didn't I like send you twenty million pics already?'
'Maybe I just wanted to see more of you.'
Hot Shot couldn't help the little grin that rose at the comment. Their back and forth banter always made him feel better quickly.
'As long as you're sure you're not getting annoyed with seeing my silly mug all the time.'
No response, but the youngling was already in the camera app, shooting several selfies from the comfort of his berth. He wasted no time sending the attachments, adding a string of funny emoticons in the process.
'There! Some freebies for you. Keep them safe; once I'm famous, you can sell them for crazy profits!'
'Thanks. They're nice,' came Wedge's message. A flat compliment, if it could even be considered flattery. At the sight of the words, Hot Shot felt himself deflate just a little. 'Hoping I can see more you next time though. Maybe even a little... lower?'
'Yeah, sure,' heavy fingers tapped back.
'Good. Bye.'
'Goodnight,' the multi-changer wrote.
No other text came in.
That tightly wound knot of chaos was swelling in his spark again. Trying to keep the nagging doubts at bay, Hot Shot quickly shoved his tablet back under his cushion, wandering out of his room and into the student lounge. It would probably be best if he just got started on his chores for the orn.
xXx
It was another long week before anything good happened.
Exhausted after a long mission (that had really just been grunt work for the recruits, fetching bits of trash in storm conditions), Hot Shot dragged his pedes all the way back to his quarters, wanting nothing more than to just collapse on his berth and recharge. He had made it as far as plopping his aching, mud-spattered frame on the berth, before he heard a strange sound echoing in his small room. Vents held, the recruit twisted his helm this way and that, expression perplexed as he tried to make sense of the noise. It sounded vaguely familiar... Almost like...
Optics brightening in alarm, Hot Shot threw himself up and off his berth, nearly crashing to the floor as he charged for his desk. He shifted around the datapads and half-finished essays, before his tablet became visible, its tiny speaker pinging with a new notification alert. Hurriedly, he tapped at the screen, the messenger app loading up instantly.
It was another message from Wedge!
'Hey, busy?'
The Autobot shook his helm, so giddy with excitement that he forgot no one would see that action. 'No, I just got in from a mission. Lots of muck and running. How was your orn?'
'Fine,' came the reply. Hot Shot wasn't too bothered. Wedge had been pretty preoccupied this week. Any requests for vid-chats were shut down and there hadn't been a single meme sent; the orange youngling had stated before that he was just too busy and by the time he'd finished his quota for the orn, he didn't have the energy to do much else.
The few messages back and forth with the red recruit were his only vice, he'd stated.
Hot Shot knew it was the same for him, too. He didn't mind being the only one carrying the conversation, flooding his friend's inbox with selfies and funny anecdotes- so long as he had some sort of contact with the triple-changer, it made this whole separation a lot easier to bear.
Speaking of... The youngling paused for a moment to take a picture of himself, adding in a couple neat additions in the filter app before throwing it up on their text chain.
Wedge took a moment to analyze the image. 'You are quite filthy. Going to shower?'
Mention of cleaning made Hot Shot realize that the drying mud was actually starting to grate on his plating, particularly in his seams. Grimacing, he texted back, 'Yeah, actually, I should. It's starting to itch now. Gimme like, ten kliks to go clean up?'
'Take a few pictures for me while you do, and I'll wait.'
There was a little flip-flop in his fuel tanks as he read his friend's words, cheekplates heating at the hidden request between the black font. 'Pretty sure we can't get the gizmos wet, though.'
'Is that a no?'
Hot Shot was already walking to the recruits' communal wash rack, peeping around the corners as he went, wary for Scorch. 'I didn't say no,' he tapped in response, feeling both giddy and anxious when he confirmed the coast was clear. 'Just... it might be harder. I'll try to snap a couple, okay?'
Wedge merely sent a thumbs-up emoticon; meanwhile, the red Autobot had set his tablet temporarily on the edge of a cleanser basin, as he twisted the taps in the nearest wash rack, setting the temperature to a mild heat. Steam beginning to rise, Hot Shot was still busy playing with his device, brow furrowed in concentration. It was with some great effort that he discovered the time delay function in the camera settings; giving himself a good grace period of two kliks, the multi-changer stumbled back to the shower, shyly sudsing up an available clothe with cleanser and distractedly wiping at one shoulder, his optics glued to his tablet across the room.
The first snap of the camera came at a great shock to Hot Shot, who almost fell in the wash rack when he jumped against the sleek tiles. At the second, he'd composed himself. When the third, fourth and fifth came, the red recruit stepped under the gentle spray of the shower, slightly tilting his frame this way and that between the camera flashes. With the final picture, the Autobot began to scrub haphazardly at his frame, his processor on the tablet rather than the task of cleaning. Were his poses any good? He'd just stood under some water and did the usual thing he'd done probably a million times all around the Academy when taking selfies... Maybe that would be okay? Or maybe Wedge was wanting something a bit more, and would be too nice to say anything bad about these pictures?
He rushed out of the wash rack, barely remembering to turn off the faucets as he went. Damp servos snatching up the tablet, Hot Shot wandering back out into the Academy halls, his attention on the new images as he quickly scrolled through his folders and not on the water dripping all over the floor. Looking at them, he was still torn on whether or not they were good enough. Should he even bother forwarding them to the other recruit? A grey finger found its way to the screen anyhow, forcing the red youngling to send over every non-blurry photo he had. He hoped against hope that Wedge would approve.
It was nearly two whole kliks before his friend replied back; a nerve-wracking stretch of time that left Hot Shot pacing in the hall outside his berthroom. 'Very nice,' pinged Wedge's message. 'You blush like a sealed 'bot.'
That comment alone left the multi-changer burning brightly in embarrassment.
'I wish I could see you,' he typed tentatively, emblazoned a bit by his friend's words.
No messages were forthcoming for a dreadfully long, long time. Not even a little notice icon, showing that the other recruit was writing a response back. Just that tiny, green check icon above his own text, letting Hot Shot know that the message had been received and read by the triple-changer. Excitement was beginning to chill in his energon lines, a ball of lead growing in his fuel tanks...
'Storage room 29-C, east hall. Be there.'
That was the only reply.
Confused, Hot Shot stared at the words, his optics cycling over them a few times as he tried to piece together what they meant. Then, it clicked- and the multi-changer was racing down the hall, a broad grin splitting his face as he rushed to get to the fore-mentioned destination.
xXx
Storage rooms C through G were situated on the east side of the Academy, three levels below the roof and one level above the Hall of Heroes. The prior units, A and B, were set on the top floor, nestled between the Headmaster's office and the security room. These two storage rooms contained the daily supplies the professors used, while the other units held bits of machinery, course material, medical tools- anything extra that might have a need, at some point in the Academy or among the recruits. In the meanwhile, all those bits and odds sat about collecting dust, unused in a series of rooms set off from the rest of the school. Making, unsurprisingly, them a perfect place for a recruit to sneak off to for some alone time.
A task that Hot Shot was currently trying to see through.
Tip-toeing as quietly as he could, the youngling made his way down the corridor; his optics glancing sporadically up to the ceiling as he went, worried that a camera might be following his every move just then. But excitement was buzzing over his sensory grid -bright and flashing like starlight- urging him ever forward, no matter the doubts he had. His very servos were shaking hard with the rush of emotion, by the time he reached the end of the hallway; twice, he had to scan his palm so the pad would register his presence, opening the door to the recruit.
Inside, the storage room was pitch black- a fact that Hot Shot ignored as he rushed within, ready to burst at the seams at any moment. "Wedge?," he called out, walking between two, tall stacks of crates, optics resetting to better see through the growing darkness.
His visual output barely had a chance to adjust for the difference in light when, from behind the multi-changer, the storage room door slid back shut. At once, all visibility plummeted. Stunned, the red youngling whirled around, squinting to make sense of where the door lay amid all the gloom. Servos wove warily through the air, reaching for something solid to steady himself as Hot Shot dared a couple steps back the way he'd come... only to be completely pulled off his path by a snatching grasp. The reflexive scream that rose stalled as Hot Shot was slammed into a large bin; a heated frame pressing up against his.
"Wed-?," the recruit began, optics shuttering blindly.
He was interrupted a second time as a pair of lip components hungrily found his. Vents escaping on the tail of a mewl, Hot Shot eased in the other youngling's hold, offlining his optics entirely. His mouth followed the triple-changer's chaotic path, servos sliding up the arms that circled his waist possessively, longing to circle around his friend's neck. Instead, Wedge lashed out for the wandering servos, wrapping tightly about the wrists and banging them back against the container's top.
That had hurt, Hot Shot thought minutely, one optic winking to life as his complaint was swept up in his friend's bruising lip-lock. Well, maybe Wedge was just as eager to reconnect with the Autobot as he was with him, the red recruit reasoned to himself. The multi-changer tried to push up on his pedes, hoping to tame the ferocity of their kisses, but only was met with a crushing pressure on his wrists.
This time, when Hot Shot whimpered, it was from pain.
The multi-changer felt his whole frame lock up. His friend was changing grip -one wrist still trapped under one servo, as the other slid down the red recruit's abdomen- and all the digit pads were smooth. Fledgling panic was now full-blown terror. Processor blanketed in fear, Hot Shot struggled wildly, unmindful of the agony shooting up his sensory grid as he yanked violently on his trapped limbs. He needed to escape!
The P.A system crackled to life somewhere overhead as the not-Wedge shoved Hot Shot harder over the bin, right up against his spinal struts; Heatwave's vocalizer echoing tinnily into the storage room. "All recruits report to the student lounge. I repeat, all recruits report to the student lounge..."
Before the last words had finished reverberating up the corridor, Hot Shot found himself flung to the storage room floor. Dazed, he lay there, processor whirling about sluggishly as it tried to absorb what had just happened. There was a flash of horror, remembering that someone else had been touching him but a few kliks ago, followed by an uneasy relief as the multi-changer realized he was staring out into a well-lit Academy hall from his small rectangle of darkness. His unknown kisser had fled, leaving the door wide open in his wake. That should have been a blessing...
Instead, a heavy weight was churning sickeningly in his fuel tanks, as Hot Shot weakly clambered back up onto his pedes. One servo laid against his aching shoulder joints, the other wrapped around his chestplates in a loose hug, feeling sicker and sicker with every step he took out of the storage room. Because he knew, even if he didn't understand the hows, that there was only one person that had been in the unit with him, masquerading as Wedge.
The only designation that could chill his spark: Scorch.
C.M.D: Sneaky, evil lil' bastard... Chapter two upcoming next month!
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?