Author's Notes: This is my second update today, which is amazing! I think it's been literal years since I was able to update two different fics in the same day, so, woohoo! This is a short chapter, but long overdue. I don't know why I forgot this story, but I'll try to put it back in the rotation of fics I'm writing for. Thank you to everyone who reads and/or reviews these stories. I love being to make people happy with my work :)


Chapter 2

A Bang and a Whimper

It wasn't until the next day that Spike managed to find Warpath. Spike had trouble sleeping that night thinking about what Bluestreak had said. Warpath, a killer? That seemed ridiculous, yet on some level Spike could almost see it. Warpath didn't have a nice safe alt mode like the others. Most Autobots transformed into cars, shuttles, or whatever else was safe for humans. Warpath however transformed into a battle tank. He couldn't even do normal human activities because his alt mode wasn't street legal.

Another thing that Spike wondered about was Warpath's eagerness for battle. If Warpath was a killer, then why? Was he a failed experiment like the Dinobots? Was he a Decepticon in disguise? Was he unstable? Why would Bluestreak be afraid of someone that seemed so nice? Spike had to find out.

With that in mind, Spike had spent that morning searching all over the Ark for Warpath. He had to talk to him, had to figure out how this rift formed between Warpath and Bluestreak.

It had taken over an hour, but Spike found Warpath in the rec room. He was sitting across the table from Powerglide, and they appeared to be playing the Transformer sized version of Battleship that Chip had built for them. Powerglide was deep in concentration, and Warpath looked fidgety as he waited for the other minibot to make a move.

"I think I'll place my piece...here," Powerglide finally decided.

The screen lit up, and Warpath banged his fist on the table.

"BLAMMIT! You sunk my battleship!" Warpath cursed.

"Heh heh, what can I say? Ol' Powerglide knows bird's eye view combat," Powerglide bragged, "That's three games in a row!"

"You're cheating!" Warpath complained, "There's no way you- Oh, hi there, Spike!"

Warpath's whole demeanor changed when he saw the human teenager. He seemed much happier now, and Spike was relieved to see that he was mostly the same mech he had come to know. Still, now that Spike was looking for suspicious behavior, he couldn't help but wonder how he had missed the fact that Warpath had a short temper. Was it just this one time, or was he always like this? Spike was nervous, but he had to investigate despite his misgivings.

"You wanna play Battleship?" Powerglide offered, "I've really gotten the hang of this game."

"He's gotten the hang of POW cheating!" Warpath corrected.

"Actually, um, Warpath, I, uh, wanted to ask you something," Spike stammered.

"Sure thing, pal. What do you wanna know?" Warpath replied amiably.

"Why is Bluestreak afraid of you?" Spike blurted out, knowing it would be easier to just say it rather than try to be tactful.

"Bluestreak?" Warpath asked in confusion, "Powerglide...which one is Bluestreak?"

"Seriously? You forgot that quick?" Powerglide laughed, "Bluestreak is Prowl's little shadow. Y'know, the Praxian."

"Oh, him," Warpath deflated as he said this, and Spike wondered what this meant, "I don't really know him that well, Spike. There's nearly 50 Autobots that live in this ship, and the number continues to BANG grow. I can't remember everybody."

"Really? You don't know him?" Spike asked in disbelief.

"Well, I see him around," Warpath shrugged, "But I don't WHAM talk to him all that much."

Spike was about to say something else, but he was interrupted by a ringing sound. Spike and Warpath looked around, and Powerglide looked sheepish.

"Sorry. I set my comm to an external alarm," Powerglide apologized, "Astoria gets freaked out if I answer too quick when she calls. Anyway, I'll see you guys later. Bye!"

With that Powerglide made a speedy retreat, and Warpath and Spike just laughed. Ever since Powerglide had started dating Astoria Carlton Ritz he had been acting like a fool. He lived for the moments when she called, yet for some reason the two always seemed to argue. For Warpath, it reminded him of orns gone by.

"I still don't know why Astoria likes him," Spike commented, "I mean, a Transformer and a human dating? It just seems weird."

"Powerglide has always had a KAPOW effect on the ladies," Warpath recalled, "Sometimes I wonder if it's his sigma ability. I still remember when he and Moonracer were an item. So much BANG drama."

"Who's Moonracer?" Spike asked curiously.

"Oh, she's the best femme on Cybertron!" Warpath gushed unabashedly, "She worked as a medic for our old unit. She was also a ZOOM sharpshooter. I still miss Moonracer…"

When Warpath said the word 'sharpshooter', it made Spike remember why he was there. Bluestreak, the Autobots' resident sharpshooter, was afraid of Warpath. Warpath on the other hand seemed to barely acknowledge that the other 'Bot was alive. Something didn't feel right about this, even now. Bluestreak's warning to Spike immediately came back to mind. Don't get close to Warpath. He's a monster. The question though was, why would Bluestreak think that?

"What do you know about Bluestreak?" Spike abruptly asked.

"Uh...He works with Prowl," Warpath dredged up, "He...uh...he's a Praxian. I think I heard some people say he's friendly and likes to talk. Why?"

"Because something is wrong here," Spike replied pointblank, "He's afraid of you, and I can't figure out why. You're both Autobots. You should be friends."

"Well kiddo, being in the same military unit don't automatically make two mechs ZAP friends," Warpath tried to explain, "We Cybertronians live a long time, and have a lot of history between us. Some things are just...too much to overcome."

"Like what?" Spike asked.

"I don't think you'd get it," Warpath replied evasively.

"I'm not a little kid!" Spike insisted, "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I can handle it."

"Well…" Warpath wasn't sure about this, especially since there were other 'Bots in the rec room that might hear them, "Let's talk about this in SLAM my quarters."

With that, Warpath walked away; forcing Spike to follow him. He was at least grateful to not be picked up like a kitten as so many other mechs had the habit of doing. Warpath didn't coddle Spike, so at least that was something. Still, it felt like every Autobot was treating him like a child. What was Warpath so afraid of? For that matter, what was Bluestreak so afraid of?

When they made it to Warpath's quarters, Warpath stepped aside so Spike could enter first. Spike only then realized that he had never seen Warpath's room before, and when he got inside he could see why. The place was as bare bones as could be. A recharge berth, a desk, and nothing else. There wasn't even anything on the desk. It was just a room full of orange walls, functional furniture, and empty space. It could belong to anyone.

"You need any food, Spike?" Warpath asked, "I can order something."

"No thanks, I'm good," Spike replied, "So, why don't you and Bluestreak get along?"

"I don't know that we don't," Warpath said cagily, "I've never really spoken to him."

"But he's scared to talk to you or be anywhere near you," Spike reminded him, "If you're both on the same team, then why is he acting like you're the enemy?"

"Because as far as he's concerned, I am," Warpath replied, surprising Spike, "It's okay though. A lot of Autobots CRAM accept me as I am. Bluestreak's a good 'Bot. He's just young is all."

"What does that even mean?" Spike asked in exasperation, "He kept talking about things like his city being destroyed and political asylum. What does any of that have to do with you?"

"We're all products of our city-states, Spike," Warpath replied, a sadness in his tone, "He's from Praxus, and I'm from Helex. Our lives were very different when we were young. I don't blame him for hating me."

"Helex?" Spike repeated, "Bluestreak told me about his home. About how beautiful it was and how it was destroyed. Did something similar happen in Helex?"

"Not exactly. Praxus was POP simple. Helex didn't die all at once, and I never felt about my home what Bluestreak felt for his. When I was a sparkling, there were two sides to Helex. One side was the FRAG military base where I grew up, and the other side was the VROOM civilian sector. I was built to be a military tank, and that was all I was allowed to be. I didn't want that life, but I didn't get a choice. My sire used to tell me not to CRASH make waves, and I tried to listen…I tried to listen…"

Warpath stopped talking and just shook his helm back and forth for a moment as he stared at the floor. Spike saw a similar sadness in Bluestreak when he talked about Praxus, but this felt different. Bluestreak's pain was obvious, simple, and cutting. Bluestreak was traumatized by what happened to his beloved city-state. Warpath however had the look of a man that had just gone through a rough breakup. He was sad, but there also seemed to be a question in the air. 'Was there anything I could have done differently?'.

"All I wanted as a youngling was to BOOM make friends and find a place in the world that didn't involve blowing it up. The military base was small, and I would have to ZOWEE venture out to the civilian sector to do things like shopping and ZANG, POW, ZORG! Sorry. My turrets syndrome gets worse when I'm VROOM nervous."

"It's okay. Go on," Spike encouraged.

"Everyone was afraid of me," Warpath recounted, "I had no friends, only my sire. He was the only one who loved me and CLANG stood by me. He was a simple mech, but he believed I would do great things. In the military of course. Again, the caste system."

"Got it," Spike replied.

"But yeah...Helex was a city-state that the council had problems with, and those problems had a name: us," Warpath's voice held a bitterness to it that Spike wasn't used to, but he hung on the tank's very word, "The last time I saw Helex was before I left to go to a military academy in Polyhex. That was the last time I saw Helex...and my sire. The council rounded up a lot of the tanks in Helex...took them right out of their SLAG homes. They probably killed him."

"So, were the council like, Decepticons?" Spike asked, "I don't really understand this part of the story."

"This was before the war officially began," Warpath clarified, "The council were the guys ZAP in charge before Megatron and Optimus kicked off the war."

"If this was before the war then why does it matter now?" Spike wondered.

"It matters. It all matters," Warpath replied somberly, "Cybertron doesn't forget. Helex eventually fell to the Decepticons. Many lives were lost during the war, but lives were also lost before it. Bluestreak is a good kid, but he tends to BANG forget that. He wasn't alive then. He doesn't see the whole story, only the KAPOW ending."

"But I still don't understand," Spike pressed, "What does the time before the war have to do with Praxus? Why does Bluestreak think you're a-"

Spike stopped himself before he could finish the thought, and Warpath looked at him curiously. Spike didn't really believe Warpath was a monster and a baby killer, but he knew that if there was a chance of that being true then he just blew it big time. Bluestreak warned him to stay away from Warpath. What if he was right?

Warpath, for his part, just tilted his helm to the side and waited for Spike to keep talking.

"I…should probably go," Spike finally said, "I know this topic is probably pretty heavy for you."

"That's okay, Spike," Warpath assured him, "We Autobots don't get to BLAM talk out our feelings very often. It's nice to do that sometimes. Feel free to drop in any time."

Spike smiled, relieved, and wasted little time in taking his leave. Warpath waved at him as Spike walked down the hallway.

Spike felt awful for even thinking for a moment that Warpath could be evil. Bluestreak was clearly mistaken about whatever it was he thought about Warpath. This situation did teach Spike one thing however. The Autobots weren't the perfectly cohesive team he thought they were. Sure, they all loved freedom, humanity, and their leader, but other than that the social structure was surprisingly complicated. There were Autobots that didn't know each other, and Autobots that didn't like each other. Worse than that though, there were Autobots who feared each other.