Chapter 5: Trouble Is a Friend

Bumblebee's attempts to fix his comm link were stymied by the fact that, according to his diagnostics, it was in perfect working order. He wished he could say the same about the rest of him. In addition to his injured leg, he'd taken some painful hits to his shoulder and side. Being forced to scramble through a narrow crevice and scale a steep slope to escape the Vehicons had done nothing to soothe his injuries. Thank goodness none of his pursuers had been aerials. Even so, their search persisted far too long for Bumblebee's taste. He vented a sigh of relief when the Vehicons finally gave up.

Now the Autobot sat on the plateau of a sweeping butte, futilely trying to raise anything other than static on his supposedly totally functional communications system.

"Well, maybe I can walk back to base," he reasoned. "How far could it be?" He pulled up his geographic analysis tools and found the answer was "over 1,000 earth miles away." Well, slag.

Bumblebee tilted his yellow and black head in thought, then searched his datafiles for the nearest human military base instead. And there! In Rapid City there was a National Guard recruitment center sharing a building with the Department of Motor Vehicles; maybe not quite the army base that he'd been hoping for, but still . . . From there he might be able to get word to Special Agent Fowler. And it was only 70 miles away. He could make that, right? Right?

There was one way to find out. Bumblebee pushed himself to his feet, full of determination, and began climbing down the butte. Fortunately this side wasn't as steep.

As he reached the bottom, the tension was suddenly back in his shoulders. As his eyebrows lowered in suspicion, his optics telescoped in on the glint of metal from across the canyon. He zoomed in and gave an involuntary warble of relief. Smokescreen! And he had taken Knock Out prisoner! Bumblebee felt a surge of pride for the rookie of Team Prime.

"Smokescreen! Hey, over here!" he beeped, but his fellow Autobot was too far away to hear and Bumblebee's comm link, naturally, was still spitting static.

The yellow and black scout was too excited to be annoyed. He hobbled towards the two mechs as fast as he could (which was to say not very fast). Knock Out had his hands raised in surrender—Bumblebee recognized the gesture from the human "crime dramas" that Jack sometimes watched—but he knew firsthand how dangerous and, well, deceptive Decepticons could be. Especially this one. "Cover me" indeed!

Now if only Smokescreen kept his attention on the 'Con; he was sometimes a little distractable. Ultra Magnus would undoubtedly be raising his eyebrows in that oh-so-expressive way of his when he saw that the rookie had had yet another change of paint. Oh well . . . let the 'bot have his simple pleasures. He was a hero today as far as Bumblebee was concerned. But he did wish he'd keep a closer eye on his prisoner . . . The scout tensed as Knock Out lowered his arms, rubbing them, but Smokescreen gestured with his blaster and the 'Con raised them again.

"Just keep an eye on him, just wait for me to get over there," Bumblebee was muttering when his attention was drawn to a flare of light in his peripheral vision. He zoomed back to get a better look and pinpoint the source.

A ground bridge! It was far away, but there was no mistaking that glow. Could it be Decepticons? Bumblebee's eyebrows rose in dismay. "Smokescreen!"

For a moment he thought his friend had heard him. The little stick figure that was Smokescreen gestured towards the ground bridge with one of his little stick limbs, then turned back to his prisoner with a movement Bumblebee could barely discern.

For a moment the two distant mechs were still, barely visible in the last shreds of sunset. Their fading, spindled shadows echoed the shapes of the spires of rock towering above.

One of the shadows broke apart and deformed, and the moment was broken. Knock Out had transformed.

It was not graceful by any standards; Knock Out simply fell forward, landing heavily in car mode. Dust clouded around his rear wheels until his treads caught, and then he was careening away. The red sports car looped widely around Smokescreen, obviously setting his sights on the distant ground bridge.

Bumblebee brought out his stingers out of habit, though he knew he was too far away to engage. As for Smokescreen, Team Prime's rookie member stood there for a few seconds, gazing after the enemy. With an uncharacteristic calmness, he raised his blaster, steadied his wrist on his other arm, and fired three well-timed laser-bursts. None of them struck home, but the Decepticon was forced into a sharp skid to avoid them.

As Knock Out struggled to regain control, Smokescreen rolled into a showy somersault that ended with his transformation into his vehicular form. His headlights flared to life, modified highbeams that poured out a blaze of blue-white light, his engine revved, and two stripes of burning rubber on the ground marked his starting point as he raced across the canyon.

Knock Out must have seen him, had to have seen him, a blur of white and gold pulling up fast. Pebbles and boulders grew crisp black shadows that lengthened, then shrank, then disappeared as Smokescreen's headlights cut across them in the dimming twilight. The blue-white glare fanned around the Decepticon, picking out every scar and scrape on his frame in harsh relief. Knock Out's headlights remained off—broken or damaged, perhaps—and so his own shadow, perpetually flowing in front of him, was a narrow ribbon of darkness cutting across a floodplain of light.

No matter how the Decepticon swerved, Smokescreen dogged his treads, tailgating aggressively. The pitch of Knock Out's motor rose from a roar to a whine as he demanded more power, more speed, but his pursuer wasn't just a muscle car, he was a racing car, Primus only knew where Smokescreen had found one but he had, and there was really no question who was faster. As Bumblebee half-limped, half-trotted across the valley, more excited than scared now, he wondered why the Decepticon bothered.

And just as he was thinking this, Knock Out unfolded, automotive parts bristling outward before sliding into place. The Decepticon channeled all the momentum of his transformation into one bounding leap. His shadow evaporated. And for just a fraction of a second, Smokescreen's high-beams illuminated the boulder rushing towards Smokescreen's windshield.

There was a scream of metal and the light from Smokescreen's headlights disappeared.

Bumblebee stood in stunned silence a moment before breaking into a lumbering run. His optics whirled, trying to adjust to the sudden lack of light. All that remained of the sunset was a smear of purple on the horizon, and greenish afterimages hung on his view-screen anywhere Smokescreen's headlights had recently flooded.

This is all my fault, I stood back watching like a glitch, should've known he wasn't ready—

He was about to charge up to the boulder when something moved. He sensed something, a figure pushing itself slowly off the ground.

It was not Smokescreen.

The scout quietly pressed himself into the shadows and brought out his stingers. Even this close, it was hard to get a bead. Knock Out's red chassis, so flamboyant in daylight, now bled into the darkness; only a faint highlight across his shoulders and down his side separated him from the backdrop of monolithic rocks. Just a sliver of his face was visible from this angle, his faceplate pale, smooth, ghostly, and utterly dominated by the red eyes that burned out from the shadow beneath his helm.

"Heh. Not bad, 'Con. Not a bad trick."

Smokescreen. Bumblebee's systems surged with relief. Knock Out tensed up.

"See, I'm learning stuff, just like I wanted. Yeah, not bad."

Two rings of glowing red searched the shadows as the Decepticon moved in a slow, tight circle. A circular saw extended from one wrist, and quiet ka-chuk ka-chuk noises ground from his other as he tried to transform it as well.

"But you forgot something, bud. You forgot I had this!" Smokescreen leapt out of the rocks—not out from behind the rocks, but literally out of them in a shimmer of light—and gave Knock Out a close up view of the Phase Shifter as he punched him solidly in the gut. The Decepticon folded; Smokescreen immediately followed up with a kick that sent Knock Out skidding backwards.

The 'Con rolled with the blow and started scrambling up, but the white and gold Autobot was already there, slamming his foot into Knock Out's back. Bumblebee felt a thrill of both shock and satisfaction jolt through his circuits as the Decepticon crumpled. He quietly began to circle around the edge of the clearing, ready to help Smokescreen but unwilling to distract him.

"You 'Cons. You're so dumb." Smokescreen drew his foot back and slammed it down again. The noise Knock Out made was muffled and pained. Bumblebee began to move a little faster. He was coming 'round behind Smokescreen now, could see the Autobot's heel grinding down and the Decepticon's claws and pedes scraping futilely at the soil.

"Like, what's your deal with this dumpy planet?" The heel lifted and fell, slam. Knock Out's entire body jerked in pain and Bumblebee thought he could hear him faintly offering promises of "deal" and "training", but Smokescreen kept talking right over him.

"Cybertron, that's what it's all about." Slam. "Optimus is just as bad, it's always blah blah blah Earth, blah blah blah Eaaaarth!" Slam. "Hey, are you listening to me? I know you're still online."

Bumblebee stared, aghast, as Smokescreen pulled the Decepticon up by the arm and shook him. He was nowhere sure that Knock Out was online. He was not even sure he was alive. Smokescreen dropped the medic, pinning down the Decepticon's wrist with one foot and his shoulder with the other as he leaned down to grip the car door integrated into his arm.

"I know you're faking," Smokescreen said. The metal creaked and gave by degrees as he hauled at it. But the Decepticon's body remained limp and his optics dark, even after the metal hinges gave with a snap.

"Huh, guess you really are out." Smokescreen sounded disappointed as he tossed the crumpled piece of metal aside. His left arm split apart to form his blaster. "You weren't much of a challenge, champ. Oh well."

Bumblebee remained hidden, frozen, watching his friend casually rolled the Decepticon's body over with his foot. Smokescreen, what are you doing? But we're at war . . . They're the enemy . . . But like this? What you just did . . . But we're at war . . .

Smokescreen's blaster was aimed at the medic's neck now and Bumblebee still wasn't doing anything, just watching, compressed into stillness between the unbearable pressures of this is my friend and this is wrong. Smokescreen adjusted his position as the blaster warmed up and for the first time Bumblebee saw the satisfied smile on his face and the gleam of his red eyes.

Red eyes . . .

As though in a dream, Bumblebee raised his stingers and fired. Two crackles of energy slammed into Smokescreen's arm.

"What the—?" Smokescreen swung around and the charge that he had intended for Knock Out sizzled harmlessly into the dirt.

"Smokescreen . . . I'm sorry, I just—"

"Oh, I'll make you sorry, Decepti-scum!"

Bumblebee's body once again reacted before his processor could catch up; he ran as Smokescreen opened fire.

"That's right, run! I needed some more target practice!"

Oh Primus. Bumblebee darted around a large rock formation, only to find Smokescreen stepping out from the solid rock, a telltale energy shimmer coating his body. Bumblebee raised his stingers as he backed away.

"Smokescreen! I'm not a Decepticon, I'm your friend! What's wrong with you?"

"There's something wrong with you if you think I'm buying that lame story, Decepti-dope! Or should I say Decepti-freak? What's wrong with your voicebox, freak?"

Bumblebee's eyebrows drew down, but he kept his vocalizations—his voice—calm. "There's something—" He experienced a moment of horror as he stumbled backwards over Knock Out's body, but made himself keep talking. "There's something wrong with you. I'm taking you to Ratchet. He'll help you."

"I DON'T . . . NEED . . . HELP!" He didn't even see Smokescreen throw the punch, just felt himself rebound painfully off the rocks. Bumblebee stared up in a daze as his teammate, his friend stood above him, eyes glowing wildly. "I'm the best of the Autobots, got it?" His ventilations were coming fast and shallow as he aimed his weapon. "And I'm going to prove it, tonight, when I bring back the heads of two Deceptic-kkkk-KKKKKKK—"

Backing away, Bumblebee pressed against the canyon wall as Smokescreen's mouth locked in a static-filled scream. Electricity crackled and writhed over his frame until the white and gold Autobot crashed forward in a heap.

And there behind him was Knock Out, staring down at the fallen mech, the broken halves of his staff still crackling in his hands.

"Guess what, 'champ'?" The Decepticon fell upon him like a bird of prey; Smokescreen's attempts to crawl away were curtailed by two massive doses of electricity delivered to his neck and his back. "I lied too."

"G-get off of him!" Bumblebee demanded, cringing as his friend howled and curled in on himself in pain. His stingers trembled as he aimed them at the Decepticon. "He's sick! Malfunctioning!"

"Well then." Knock Out grabbed Smokescreen by the neck and stumbled backwards until he was standing. He slammed the Autobot against the cliff face, grabbing for his wrist. "Good thing there's a doctor in the hous—" He was cut off abruptly as both 'bots fell into the cliff.

Bumblebee jumped towards the spot where they'd been standing, then stopped, at a loss. There was no sign of the bots. With trembling servos, he picked up the two lengths of staff that Knock Out had dropped; it seemed like the only thing he could do at the moment.

And there they were again, swinging out of the rocky face, Knock Out with his claws locked around the Phase Shifter on Smokescreen's wrist, Smokescreen trying to maneuver his gun-arm at such an impossibly close range, both of them wheeling around and around in a crazy dance, legs sliding through stones and shrubs as they tried to push each other off balance. Bumblebee started forward, not knowing what to do or who to help, just knowing that he had to do something—he, too, grabbed for the Phase Shifter—

And with one glance towards him, Knock Out plucked half his staff out of Bumblebee's hand, twirled it in his long fingers, and jammed it into Smokescreen's shoulder joint, shoving backwards with all his might.

Bumblebee spun into, through the rocks, shuddered and cried when the electricity danced down Smokescreen's arm, but he was drowned out by Smokescreen, who screamed as his arm went numb and went on screaming as Knock Out forcibly ripped the Phase Shifter off his wrist.

Bumblebee fought back panic as he found himself trapped in the suddenly very solid rocks. His lower arms were free, but not his elbows; one leg was free, but it wasn't going anywhere without the rest of him. Beside him (tangled up with him?) Smokescreen's chassis creaked as he strained and lunged. His head and arms, protruding from the stone, resembled a very strange hunting trophy.

"Well, well, well." Knock Out regarded him with barely concealed satisfaction and a hand on his hip. "Turnabout, as they say, is fair play."

"You slagging piece of glitched up GARBAGE! I'm going to—"

"Temper, temper." Knock Out attached the Phase Shifter to his own armor, then looked at Bumblebee, optics narrowed. Studying.

"Come on," he said at last, gripping the scout's arm and pulling him free. He grabbed the stunned Autobot and pulled him a few steps before his hand ghosted right through Bumblebee's wrist.

"Scrap." Knock Out looked annoyed at finding himself half immersed in the ground, and took a good minute to struggle to the surface. He took off the Phase Shifter and flipped it towards Bumblebee. "You take it. I can't concentrate."

Bumblebee just managed not to fumble the catch, but it was a near thing. Knock Out was strolling away, or at least doing as much of an approximation of a stroll as he could with energon dripping from his back, one arm pulled tight against his side, and a slight hunch of his chest. After a few meters he stopped, looked back, and held his hand out expectantly. Bumblebee stood dumbly, wondering if he wanted a handshake or what.

"My staff," Knock Out said in a Primus-what-fools-these-Autobots-be voice.

Silently, Bumblebee handed him the other half of his broken weapon. Knock Out started to slot both pieces into some unseen crevice on his back, thought better of it, and tucked them under his arm instead. He started his not-quite-a-stroll again and somehow Bumblebee found himself trailing him. Behind them Smokescreen's curses rang out into the night.

"I could've cut his throat," Knock Out said after a few minutes, "but I thought it might upset your delicate Autobot sensibilities. I hope you appreciate that."

Somehow that broke the spell. Bumblebee grabbed the Decepticon's arm and swung him around, not caring that the 'Con snarled in pain. "You hope that I appreciate it?!" Bumblebee's beeps shrieked to the higher octaves in fury. "What the scrap did you do to him, you monster?"

Knock Out wrenched away from him. "What did I do to him? What did I—" He stabbed a finger at his chest. "—do to him?" The finger scythed in the direction of the distant Smokescreen. "Are you serious?"

"You did SOMETHING—reprogrammed him or injected a virus—"

"Oh yes, silly me, I forgot!" Knock Out threw his arms towards the heavens. "I worked my nasty Decepticon voodoo on him so that he'd try to kill me! Or did you forget that part?!"

"It would serve you right!" Bumblebee shrieked, getting up in his face. "You know what I didn't forget? I didn't forget you trying to offline Bulkhead and kidnapping humans and shoving me off a cliff—"

"Shoving you? Shoving you? Are you talking about that time you chased me—repeat, you chased me—in that rusted out jalopy until your inability to steer sent you over a guardrail?"

"I do NOT have an inability to steer!"

"And if we're airing past grievances, how about the time you tried to grind off my face? WITH A TRAIN."

"That was an accident!" Bumblebee said. "Also? Hilarious."

Knock Out hissed as he swiveled on his heel and stalked away. "I don't have time for this."

Bumblebee followed, standing with his arms crossed and his brows angled in a frown as he watched the medic lower himself carefully to a sitting position. Knock Out's long claws began digging into the seams of his arms and legs, popping open well-hidden compartments and prying out strips of thin, rolled metal, tiny vials, electrical tape, and even a few lengths of narrow, rubbery tubes.

"For energon drips," he said when he caught Bumblebee not-quite-looking. "Moot point since we don't have any energon."

Bumblebee wished he hadn't mentioned energon; the world swayed a little when he thought about it. He opted to sit down. A reasonable distance away from the treacherous Decepticon, of course.

Knock Out tore a length of the silvery foil off and patched up his side. After a few narrow glances at Bumblebee, he ripped off another strip and waved it in the Autobot's direction. It was a great deal shorter than the strip Knock Out had used. Bumblebee took it anyway and applied it to his leaking leg. Meanwhile Knock Out was awkwardly slapping patches onto his back, grimacing at the pain. "I should've done this before," he muttered irritably.

Bumblebee remained silent. He stared up at the moon. His comm link wasn't working. He very much doubted if Knock Out's comm link was working (not that that would help him anyway!). And without a ground bridge—wait a minute.

"Do you think that ' bridge is still open?"

Knock Out stopped wrapping electrical tape over the sensors of his injured, door-less arm to stare at him blankly.

"The one you were trying to get to when Smokescreen . . . you know."

Knock Out returned his attention to the strips of black tape.

"I don't think," he said, "that I ever want to see what's on the other side of that one."

And that was all he would say on the matter.