Bumblebee hurried forward in the thin crowd of Cybertronians. He had lost sight of Arcee as she had been whisked away by that overprotective friend of hers. Honestly, he didn't know what Ark's deal was. It was almost like she could not let Arcee out of her sight. Maybe he should ask Arcee about that when they had time. He was sure there was an interesting story behind that.
"Hey Bee," Sunstreaker suddenly said, grabbing his attention. "Great game, huh?"
Bumblebee turned his gaze on the gold mech. "Uh, yeah. It was a great game. To bad for the loss though."
Sunny shrugged. "Eh, what can you do? It's a game. Though me and Sides here found something else very interesting while we were playing."
Bumblebee blinked as he suddenly found himself falling into step with Sunny, along with Sideswipe who had turned up out of nowhere. At that moment, he felt very cornered and trapped, as if the two mechs were closing in on him.
"You got a little something right there," Sides said, pointing at the back of Bumblebee's helm.
Bumblebee once more reached out to touch the drying paint where Arcee had shot him. "Oh, yeah. Someone from Team Red got me right when the game ended."
Sunny whistled. "Right when the game ended? A hit in the helm is a death shot."
Bumblebee winced. "Yeah, it felt like one for a moment."
"Better wash it off before it dries, or Arcee's mark on you will be permanent."
"Well, Arcee has been getting-" Bumblebee cut off abruptly, turning to stare at the gold twin. "Wait, how did you know Arcee shot me?"
Sides hummed. "So it was Arcee."
At that moment, feeling strangely cornered, Bumblebee muttered some apologies before scurrying over to where Moonracer was. How had the Twins known that Arcee had shot him? More importantly, what did they see and think of what they saw?
Then he remembered the two mechs that had been approaching their hiding spot. One mech was colored red and gold, the same color as...Sunny.
He wanted to smack himself for not seeing it sooner. He just hoped that the Twins would stay quiet about it. But based on what they had said, he could only wonder what they would do.
His steps slowed when he saw that Moonracer was occupied with someone else as she was engaged in a conversation with Mirage. Her gaze never left his and a light smile played on her lips. He caught sight of Mirage's servo lightly brushing up against Moonracers, and the femme's smile grew.
He turned away, looking instead for Smokescreen who was mercifully not too far away. The white mech caught his attention and beamed at him, waving Bumblebee over. He quickly scampered over to his friend before the Twins could snag him again.
The Twins watched as Bumblebee scurried away, both with identical, thoughtful expressions on their faces.
"We gonna help them?" Sunny asked with a smirk.
Sides grinned. "Of course we are. It'll give us something to do, and it'll be fun. The timing couldn't be better."
Sunny let out a sigh. "It's a shame really, this Selection. It's interfering with lives in more ways then some."
"Forbidden feelings," Sides said with a dramatic sigh. "Denial. A sense of duty. Yeah, it's a mess. But who are we to stand in the way of love? We must follow on in our duty to encourage them." He smirked. "Besides, we're all about interfering in others affairs."
"Pushing them together won't be too difficult," Sunny said, folding his arms. "The attraction is there and that is not something one can force."
"And what do they have to lose?" Sides pointed out, his excitement growing. "After all, it's not like Bee and Arcee are the Heirs."
Arcee still felt her face growing warm when she was in the femme's room. But she allowed her spark to calm down and return to a normal rhythm. She crossed her legs and adopted a relaxed pose as she leaned into her seat.
"So," she heard Windy ask. Her gaze lifted up to see the femme in a chair across from Arcee's seat. Arcee was aware that Windy hadn't gone to the Hut and had stayed with the other, more 'refined' femmes. It was just Arcee's luck to come into the room right when the conversation got onto a topic she had been trying to ignore.
Mechs.
"What's your type?" Windy asked.
The purple femme who had been questioned tilted her helm back, gathering her thoughts. It was then Arcee seized the sudden silence to debate on whether or not she could escape. Probably not, as the movement it would take for her to leave would be noted.
As the purple femme answered Windy's questions, squeals rang out in the room at what was said, causing Arcee to wince. It was then she noticed Firestar enter the room, her regal posture straight and stiff. Her steps were measured as she sat down with ease, her optics scanning the room.
"And where have you been?" Windy asked, turning to Firestar with a raised optic ridge.
Firestar met the other femme's stare with a calmness that Arcee envied. Yes, she could see where some would think that Firestar was the Autobot Heir instead. If that was so, she wondered who they thought the Decepticon Heir was. It was too risky for her to ask that question now, but maybe she could ask Bumblebee.
The thought of Bumblebee caused her spark to pick up speed once more and she cursed herself for entertaining such fantasies. How could she have let herself get so careless? This was a new feeling that she had never experienced before. Sure, she had developed crushes and what she thought was love in her youth, but it had never felt this strongly before. Asking Megatron was out of the question as the last time she had asked him about feelings, he had quickly closed off.
The life of a bachelor tended to cause him to act that way, she supposed.
"Arcee?" she heard Windy ask. "You seem lost in thought. So what's your type?"
Arcee jerked forward, snapping out of her thoughts. She blinked twice as she took in the expectant faces before her.
It took a few seconds for Windy's question to sink in, and when it did, Arcee's horror grew. That was not the question she wanted to be asked! Nor was it the question she wanted to answer.
She took in a deep breath. "I...don't have a type," she answered finally.
Firestar let out an undignified snort. "Really? That sounds similar to your answer the last time."
Arcee bristled at the tone in the other femme's voice, but she held her words back.
Windy frowned, disappointed. "So...you don't have a type?"
"I want them to be safe. That's why I am in the Selection."
His voice had been calm, yet heavy with regret of what he could never have as he looked at that family. But his stance had been firm as he was filled with determination to do his part. Whether that would require for him to wield a gun or attend peace treaties, he would do it. He was willing.
Imagine what he would do for his mate, if he was willing to do all that for his planet.
She felt her emotions growing to a boiling point, partially because of Firestar's attitude and mostly because of what she yearned to say.
"He must be strong," she found herself saying, almost in a daze. But her voice grew firmer with each word she said. "He has to be loyal and not afraid to do what needs to be done. He must be a protector and provider. He has to be warm and carrying, not hiding his true emotions and always open to share. His strength is in his words as well as in his actions."
She didn't pause as her words tumbled out, yet she was filled with certainty. She soon found herself identifying her words to one mech, one mech alone. "He puts others first, yet he always brightens up the room with his personality and mannerisms. He carries the world on his shoulders silently, yet he is always offering advice and he is willing to heed the wisdom of his elders." She let out a shaky breath. "He...cares for his loved ones and would do anything for them. His affection is...strong and warm."
She looked down briefly, her servos clenching. "He is a partner in life and expects others for their faults, but expects them to learn from their mistakes as he does. Patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness; those are all the traits he possess."
She refrained from saying anything else, like how there was kindness in his optics and a gentleness in his touch. She did not say how secure his arms felt when they had been around her, like he would never let her go. She did not say how sincere his smile was when he watched a family walk by or how he talked about being a pilot with her as the assassin and how she could easily see him in her fantasy future.
Firestar frowned. "So, you are expecting some sort of saint."
Arcee glared, focusing her sight on the other femme with such intensity. "No," she said firmly. "I am expecting someone I deserve to live with. Someone I know who I deserve." She then calmly rose from her seat, ending her statement as she strode from the room.
Did she go a bit overboard? Probably. Was she reading too much into what she was feeling. Yes, most certainly.
She stifled a sigh that was threatening to come forth. She needed help and she needed it now. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked up and noticed that her steps were taking her nowhere in particular.
She frowned, wondering if she should seek out Megatron. She wasn't sure if he was the right mech to talk to on this particular subject. But who else did she have to turn to?
She glanced over at Ark who was following closely behind. "Ark," she started. "What do you know about…?"
Ark tilted her helm as she looked at Arcee. "What do I know about what?"
She shook her helm. "Never mind." She quickened her steps as she strode forward with one destination in mind.
Megatron had a feeling that it would come up some time. He just didn't have time to prepare himself. He looked up as Arcee poked her helm in, her blue optics holding so much questions and a need for answers.
He sighed and inclined his helm, giving her the signal that it was safe enough for her to speak to him.
"Trouble?" he asked, folding his servos.
She shifted in her seat before going still, adopting a more casual pose that he had taught her. Yet the stiffness in her shoulders suggested that she felt anything but casual.
He tilted his helm. "Is it those darn emotions?"
She glanced at him, meeting his optics. "Yes," she answered. "I am feeling an array of troubled thoughts and feelings that I should not have. Emotions that may compromise the Selection."
He stayed silent, unsure how he should answer this. Should he even say anything? On the one hand, he was proud that she realized that the feelings she was having weren't right. But she was growing close with the Autobot Heir, something neither he or Optimus Prime ever thought could happen. On the other hand, he didn't want to drive her away from the Heir that she was unknowingly developing feelings for.
"Well," he said simply. "We will be returning to Kaon soon, so you will have time to distance yourself from the situation."
"And I will only have so little time before the situation itself comes knocking on my doorstep," she replied.
"Use the time to sort out what you are feeling," Megatron said, choosing his words carefully. "Examine them and use the time to...take care of yourself. Do the things you normally do in Kaon." Primus, he needed to have Elita-One deal with this. He wasn't even sure if what he was saying was right.
"You are not Shockwave," he said suddenly. "You cannot just cut off your emotions and become void of feelings. It won't work that way."
"Maybe it would be for the best."
He blinked, not expecting such an answer. He narrowed his optics as he looked at Arcee. He could tell she was considering Shockwave's tactic as an answer, though it was another question entirely if she would carry through with it.
"Is that what you want?" he asked, leaning forward.
"It would be in Cybertrons best interest," she said simply, her gaze on the desk between them.
"But what of your mate?" he pressed.
"What does it matter? He does not know me, nor has he even tried to seek me out," she said, bitterness in her tone.
"Yet you repeatedly battle with Soundwave over the hidden records that you still believe exist," he mused. "You have hopes of finding out who the Autobot Heir is."
Her optics twinkled at his tone and the corners of her mouth twitched. He found himself watching her, trying to read her emotions.
He came to one possible solution. She was filled with guilt and shame over what she was feeling and he would not allow Arcee to tear herself apart over this. "I want you to spend some time away from the other Selecteds," he said firmly. "Be it Autobot or Decepticons. You can go and travel the city until we return to Kaon. You can change your paint job, spar, race, do whatever. But stay away from the Selecteds."
She looked at him in surprise, her body going limp in the seat. "I…" she stuttered, not sure what to say. "Why?"
"You can start by thanking me," he said, looking down at his datapads. "And you can take my advice and use it to relax and do whatever you like. Though Ark must be with you at all times." He looked back up at her. "Am I clear?"
She nodded, standing up. "Yes, we are clear."
He watched her. "Good." He nodded to the door. "Now get some sleep, you had quite an eventful day."
She grinned tiredly. "Yes sir," she said. She looked back at him once more from the doorway, the shadows of her small frame casting a mysterious light. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he muttered to the empty room, feeling his spark grow heavy. He waited a few minutes as the silence stretched on before reaching for the comm link.
"Optimus Prime," he greeted stiffly. "I require your mate's expertise on...feelings. Especially one involving young femmes." He scowled. "Of course I am aware that such topics are not my strongest forte. Is Elita-One available or not?"
The answer he got caused him to relax in his seat. "Good," he said. "Then this situation couldn't have turned out any better."
He watched as the witch danced around in delight, her sudden shrieks of happiness filling the caves.
"I found them!" he heard her scream in delight, the sound grating his audio receptors. "I found them!"
The 'them' was something he did not care to know about. All he knew was that those poor souls were the witch's targets now, just as he and his brothers once were.
He unfurled his wings before settling down into a more comfortable position. He rested his large helm as his golden optics lazily examined the dark room he was in.
The Wild One of the Sky looked up, his blue armor the only light in the darkness. "She has found a new pet," he grunted.
The Dark One only growled, the spikes on his helm glittering. "Pitty, they will have such a miserable existence once she gets her claws on them."
The tired debate went on between the two siblings, but they did not invite the bigger, more observant creature in on the conversation. They only acknowledge his presence when he demanded it and they were quick to respond when he did. He had struck fear into their sparks long ago from the first moment they had been thrown into the Pit.
The Pit had been their earliest memories, and the larger creature had been waiting for them. He quickly put them in their place, reminding them who was in charge and what would happen should they rebel. Experience and cunning had earned him their reluctant respect.
He had made it quite clear who was the leader. He had shown them who they answered to.
He was their king. He was known to them as King.
King listened to their idle chatter with boring interest. He did not know what the witch had planned, but he pitied those creatures who she hunted. He pitied them, for the lives they knew now would come to an end.