"Okay, you're free to go." Trailbreaker said, turning off the force field to Draft's cell.
Draft stepped out hesitantly, expecting paperwork or a taser-happy Red Alert or something, but the current brig guard just waved him forward. Huh. On Earth he would have gone through a whole slew of forms and signatures for getting arrested; either things were more lax in the Autobot army, or there was more to this behind the scenes.
At least First Aid had (unintentionally) given him a way to pass the time other than thinking about that cramped closet. He'd spent the last five hours of punishment messing with his new HUD-thingy. It was like having an Android or Iphone interface in your mind: very distracting. How did normal mechs get anything done?
Draft froze at the sight of a familiar blue one waiting for him.
"Come with me." Ultra Magnus growled, turning heel. Draft swallowed his fear and went with him as was expected. What else could he do? He couldn't keep avoiding tall blue and murderous forever; they unfortunately shared quarters.
Draft trailed after him soberly, optics focused to a specific point on the mech's back. Either he was going to die, or he was going to wish he did. He'd only been here a whole month and he'd already spent a night in the robo-slammer; that was never good. Ultra Magnus likewise didn't say a word until they got to his quarters. He palmed open the door, and with much reluctance, Draft followed him inside. When the door closed behind them, Ultra Magnus turned around.
Whatever Draft was expecting, it wasn't the backhanded slap that came out of nowhere.
He yelped, getting knocked nearly across the room by the force of it, but even then he knew that was merely been a love tap compared to what the mech do. The dude had like, a ton on him.
"Have I got your attention now? Get up."
"Yes Sir." Draft said quietly, getting to his feet. He tried not to wince at how much the left side of his face stung right now. He wanted to yell too, scream that none of this shit was his fault, especially since he never asked to be an Autobot in the first place, but he could pick his battles and already knew this was a losing one no matter what he said.
"I haven't seen you in almost two orns, you refuse to answer my comms, disobey curfew, and I find you in the brig? Unacceptable."
"Yes, Sir."
"I'm not finished! There are rules here. You're not on Dirt anymore, you're a part of this army and I expect you to act like it."
"But-," Draft began.
"NO buts! We had a deal!" His guardian yelled. "If you cannot be trusted to hold up your end of it, why should I hold up mine?"
Wait, did he mean he was thinking about sticking him in a sparkling frame like they'd threatened? No! "Please, it was a m-mistake, I'm sorry." Draft apologized.
Whether he meant it or not was up to Ultra Magnus, but Draft would do anything to avoid being removed from his frame. It was the only thing he had left from Earth.
"I will be the judge of that." Ultra Magnus growled. "Starting today you will remain in your room, where I can know you're not getting into trouble, unless I otherwise tell you or you're with the aerialbots. You will have an escort to and from your duties."
"But-but what about energon?!" Draft gasped. This was so stupid! "I have t-to...r-refuel!"
"It will be brought to you."
"For how lo-long?!" Draft wailed, struggling not to break into English lest his guardian slap him again.
"For as long as it takes!"
Ultra Magnus roared, optics narrowed. He dared the errant sparkling to argue again and see what happened. He'd had enough of Draft's "bullshit", as the Dirtlings called it. This stupidity ended and it ended now, even if he had to assign Wreckers to babysit the idiot for a vorn. How could Draft ever learn to function in society if he was constantly acting out? This was for his own good.
"Get out of my sight."
Draft obeyed, going to his room swiftly. Ultra Magnus stayed where he was for a minute, wondering briefly if he'd been too harsh, but the notion was dismissed. He didn't take joy in doling out punishments to anyone, from the army's most undisciplined soldiers (annoying glitch Sideswipe may be) to its now sparklings, but where there were rules there were consequences and Draft had to learn that.
...
Draft huddled on his berth, long wings twitching in fury as he resolutely stared at his desk (a small table that was the only other furniture in the room). This was bullshit! As far as he was concerned, he'd done nothing wrong. Ultra Magnus was being so unfair; he'd never even got to explain himself, though maybe now was not the best time to admit he'd apparently been drunk out of his mind the other day.
He rubbed his face; Ultra Magnus never hit him before. Well, at least not when he didn't swing first. Back when he'd first been captured, he'd attack any of the Wreckers that came near him trying to escape. Springer had put a stop to that by beating the ever loving crap out of him when he got a lucky kick to the mech's interface panel. Good times.
His HUD informed him that the damage was merely cosmetic and that his self-repair systems would fix it within the joor. Draft mentally deleted the message, annoyed. He spent the rest of the day in that same almost meditative state of annoyance, laying down and mentally fiddling with his HUD when someone pinged him. Draft pinged back, letting Springer know he could enter. The Wrecker stood somewhat awkwardly in the doorway.
"Hey, kid. Silverbolt has you guys scheduled for training in a few breems." He said kind of awkwardly.
"I know." Draft sighed.
This day just never ends. Draft hopped off the berth, nodding for Springer to lead the way. He was so screwed. He felt like a little kid being lead to school for a test he didn't study for; did Silverbolt still expect to be impressed?
Silverbolt had them meeting in the Underground Simulation Area this time, a space the size of a city block and designed to look like one, if you liked your cities ravaged by war. Springer smirked at Draft, who was looking around in amazement. Kid was sure easy to impress. The, center, clear of debris, was the rendezvous.
Fireflight, Skydive, Air Raid, and Slingshot were all standing in a tight huddle when they picked their way down there, and Jetfire was arguing good naturedly in the corner with a humongous flyer Draft didn't recognize. Meanwhile Powerglide and Echo's trine were doing something weird with a big metal ball; they were throwing it as hard as they could at each other; it looked like knocking someone over was the goal. Another mech, who until then was only watching the game, jogged up to them.
"Hey Springer, Draft." He said. The long blades draped over his back indicated he was a helicopter alt mode like Springer, and said Wrecker tilted his helm.
"Good orn Blades. Have you two met?"
"Sort of; you know my brothers, Hot Spot and Streetwise." Blades said, looking at Draft. "So I sort of know you. And now you sort of know me."
"Oh." Was all Draft said, wondering what made Cybertronians 'brothers'. Like, brothers in arms? It made no sense.
"I thought you were under Hot Spot's command." Springer said. While both he and Blades were flyers, he was a Wrecker, and of course gestalt teams were always an exception, so neither answered to Silverbolt. Blades shrugged.
"I am, but Gamma's still in the medbay and Silverbolt wanted to make the teams more even."
Springer nodded. "Ah." To Draft he said, "I'll see you later," before leaving. He passed Silverbolt on his way out.
Silverbolt entered the room and upon seeing that everyone was not only present but on time (Primus really did work miracles), announced, "Powerglide, Echo, play lob on your own time; go stand over there with Delta, Blades, Jetfire and Slingshot."
He paused and addressed the white flyer Jetfire had been talking to earlier. "Skyfire, nice to see you with us."
'Skyfire' dipped his big helm respectfully, and Draft caught his optic when he looked away. Silverbolt continued, "You're with Fireflight, Air Raid, Skydive, and Draft on this side. Your objective is to find and destroy the enemy's transponder. Go hide them."
When the teams were out of sight of each other for six breems, Silverbolt commed /Go!/ and the madness began. Draft decided it was like capture the flag; except replace the flag with a transponder thingy and the people with a bunch of trigger happy robots.
At the "Go" Slingshot, Echo and Delta immediately took to the air, as flying was allowed on these simulated battlefields and they were all flyers.
On Draft's team Skydive, Air Raid, and Fireflight transformed and blasted off to meet them, engaging the three head on in a paint slinging dogfight. Draft remained on the ground, unsure what to do. He was arguably the smallest flyer there and finding cover was easy. Draft looked around, the trash and bullet marred buildings crystal clear in his new HUD-infused vision. Maybe…
Finding cover in the form of a torn up wall, Draft took potshots at enemy fliers from the ground. Slingshot apparently didn't like that, and broke formation to strafe him. Draft swore and dived out of the way. But as the aerialbot passed, he saw that his shots had fired true. Man, using you HUD made aiming so easy! He felt like this was cheating.
No wonder he'd sucked.
"Gotcha!" Powerglide appeared from nowhere, grabbing Draft. "Why are you fighting down here like a grounder?"
Draft tossed him with a judo throw.
"Mech, do you pack a punch." Powerglide winced, scraping himself back up. Draft ignored the banter and just shot him paint blank; not sure why, but it felt very satisfying.
"The frag was that for?!"
"We're on opposite teams, dumbass." Draft said.
Powerglide looked confused. "Something wrong with your vocalizer?"
Oops, he'd said that in English. Rather than stick around Draft transformed, blasting upward and out of that conversation before it could go anywhere important. He could go shoot someone else for a turn.
Draft had to steady himself; the difference was immediate. This was flying with a HUD? Where had this program been all his life? Information streamed into his processor from the velocity of air against his wings to how many degrees his frame was turned relative to the ground. It felt good.
Thank you First Aid.
Giddy at how fun flying with a HUD was, Draft found a new desire to fight. He flew into the middle of the aerial battle between Skydive and Echo, pelting the trine leader's face with paint even as his teammate barked "watch it!" An enraged Echo disengaged to give chase, Skydive following after the two of them, and Draft whooped, spinning ludicrously as he avoided purple paint and flew into their territory, more interested in finding his own limits than their transponder-thing. Suddenly he had two more on him.
/What are you doing you glitch?!/ Air Raid yelled over the comm.
/B-Being distracting! Someone go find their flag!/
/Their what?/
/Uh, tr-transponder./ Draft hastily corrected, dancing with gravity as he wove in and out of the fake ruins with a speed that suggested a crash wouldn't be pretty. Forget avoiding the paint shot at him, that was just a bonus. He was having fun. He barely managed to avoid Blades though, who was lurking on the ground. Draft did a loop, this time prepared for it, and when the idiot tried it again he pegged him in the back.
Echo was still on his tail. Damnit. And now so was Slingshot again.
/You're crazy./
That sounded like Slingshot, who wasn't even on his side. Yeah, he probably looked like a kamikaze to his own teammates, but he doubted any of them used to practice flying through the forests. Not getting impaled or slamming into anything was like, Draft's specialty, and with a HUD it was even more easy. Hopefullyhis team was doing something productive with this distraction.
As if reading his thoughts someone commed, /I got it! Pit yeah! Eat that you-/
/Everyone to the center./ Silverbolt cut Air Raid off.
Draft giggled, wondering what Air Raid would have said, and he stopped flying backwards and upside down like a moron to follow Echo back to the center of the room. A grinning Air Raid was triumphantly holding the crushed remains of the other team's transponder in his clawed servo. Everyone was covered in paint, especially Skyfire; then again, he was a big target. He'd stayed behind to guard their flag-er, transponder, and he smiled at Draft when he caught him looking. Draft looked away sheepishly.
Silverbolt gave the usual pep talk before telling them to beat it, save Draft (again). Nervously, Draft watched the rest of the group make their merry paint covered way out of the room. He was about to get complimented, right? Surely.
But Silverbolt looked suspicious as he stood before him, lip-plates pulled into a frown. Finally he settled for demanding: "Draft, are you on enhancers?"
Draft...wasn't entirely sure what that meant. He didn't think so. "No?"
"Then what was that?!"
Draft blinked. "I thought you w-wanted to be impressed, S-Sir."
"Impressed?" Silverbolt repeated, a stern look on his face. "The only thing that will impress me is how fast you'll be court martialed if I ever find out you've been using enhancers, do I make myself clear?"
What? What did he do? He didn't even know what enhancers were!
"I promise, Sir, I d-don't use...enhancers." Draft stumbled over the new word, honest. Silverbolt looked unconvinced.
"See to it you don't. You are dismissed."
Draft turned and exited, for the life of him unable to figure out what everyone in this place had against him. He'd done loads better today than yesterday, what was the problem? Did Silverbolt not see how good he was?
Springer was waiting for him in the corridor.
"What was that about? Please tell me you didn't get in trouble again, Ultra Magnus...wants to see you later. He sent me to yell you." Springer stiffened, changing tune as Silverbolt came out behind Draft. He nodded to the aerial commander before leaving, as it might look weird to keep following Draft. People might think he was the kid's babysitter or something; didn't want them getting the right idea. Primus he hoped Silverbolt hadn't heard all of that.
Draft kept walking, feeling his commanders' eyes on him. Just act natural. At least Silverbolt didn't follow him the whole way there. When Draft entered the washracks, he was immediately assaulted by a cleaning rag. It made contact with his face with a wet FWAP.
"Hey!"
"Hey yourself!" Fireflight squawked. "You never said you could fly like that!"
"Like what?" Draft said, for his sanity refusing to look at anyone below the waist. Just, no. He moved near Fireflight and started undoing the locks on his own armor, though, or else he'd look weird.
"Like someone lit your tailpipe on fire. I knew you were crazy."
A corner of Draft's mouth lifted at the compliment, even if a part of him wished Fireflight would phrase it better.
"Crazy in a good way? 'Cause Silverbolt seems to think I'm on enhancers. What? I'm not." He insisted.
He looked around, but Echo and Gamma were minding their own business further down, and Skydive was helping Air Raid hold Slingshot down in the pool at the far end. Skyfire and Jetfire were also in the pool, but far enough away from their splash zone to not be annoyed. Deciding he could maybe trust Fireflight on this one, Draft asked,
"Um...by the way, what are they?"
Fireflight stopped scrubbing his arm like it was guilty of murder. "What?"
"Enhancers. W-What are they?"
That made the aerialbot stare. Who didn't know that? "You know. They make you more focused, or at least some do. But it can mess with your processor and they're really addicting, which is why they're illegal."
Oh, that actually made sense. Wait. Silverbolt thought he was on drugs?
Before he could form an opinion on that, arms suddenly encircled him, lifting him off his feet. "What the hell?" Draft yelped, letting his English slip. "W-What are you doing Air R-Raid?! Slingshot?! Put me d-down!"
"Come on guys!" Fireflight whined. Primus, sometimes he thought his brothers were sparklings.
Draft struggled some more as they carried him like movers with a couch towards the pool. Uh, they were like, naked. Or the Cybertronian version. This was so gay.
"C-Can you s-swim as good as you f-fly?" Air Raid laughed; with a whoop they tossed Draft into the pool.
Fireflight came up behind Slingshot and pushed him in. "You guys!"
"What?" Slingshot replied when he came back up. The foamy, cleanser filled water only came up to the middle of his chest; the pool was fairly deep to accommodate those with bigger frames.
"That was mean!"
"No it wasn't." Air Raid said, still standing next to Fireflight. He tackled his little brother into the water. When they resurfaced he sniggered, "That was mean."
Slingshot held up a hand. "Hey, guys?"
His tone made Fireflight and Air Raid stop trying to drown each other (which for robots was impossible anyway). "What?"
"Where's Draft?"
"What the-he didn't come back up?!"
"Do either of you glitches see him?"
Air Raid spun around in the water, making it go swish. "Frag!"
From their peaceful end of the pool, Jetfire and Skyfire watched the three aerialbots search for Draft, trying to feel him with their peds and calling his name. Had he had a processor crash and sunk to the bottom? Just then Skyfire felt something brush his leg. A helm was peeking out of the water behind him.
"Draft?" He said. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk to new flyer, despite being on his team today (though he suspected that was because he had elected to stay behind and guard the transponder, large framed as he was. His shuttle mode just wasn't suited for dogfights like the others).
The helm nodded. "Shhhhh. Don't tell them I'm over here."
Jetfire chuckled, seeing who it was that was hiding behind his colleague's frame. "How did you get over here?"
"I swam."
"You swam?" Jetfire echoed. The newbie had said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Draft switched focus.
"Your des...ignation is Skyfire, r-right?"
"Yes." Skyfire rumbled.
"W-Why haven't I seen you be-before? Are you also new to…," Draft glanced back at the aerialbots' end, where they were still freaking out. "That?"
"No. I am under Silverbolt's command, but rarely am I present on the battlefield. I'm a scientist."
Draft looked between them. "Uh...I thought he was the scientist."
"We both are." Jetfire clarified, understanding the smaller mech's confusion. "People confuse us all the time, though I can't imagine why."
"Hey! There he is! Draft you glitch, not funny!" The three looked up to see Air Raid pointing at them. "What are you even talking about over there? Let me guess, organics." The bomber mocked.
"Organics?" Draft squeaked, energon running cold. Oh no. Did they know?
But Skyfire explained, "I specialized in xenobiology before the war, and even have a few samples in the lab if you'd care to see."
"They are a fascinating subject." Jetfire added almost wistfully. "Though most mechs beg to differ."
Oh. "Y-Yeah…," Draft murmured, sinking lower in the water. If only they knew.
Third new chapter in a row, bam!