"I need to go into the office early today." Firestorm informed his son as he slid a gelified cube of energon across the counter at him. "I'll drop you off at school on my way in."

Red Alert nodded. There really was no arguing with his father. Doing so would just get him in trouble, and it wouldn't be dark for more than an hour once he got to the education center. The mechling picked up the gooey block of fuel. He really didn't like eating it like this but Firestorm was already unlocking the front door, and if Red Alert didn't hurry, the yellow and red would be annoyed at him for lollygagging. At least he had energon today.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

"Slow down Prowl!" Rainbow called after her youngest child as he ran off in front of her.

"But mom," the youngling cried, "you walk so slow. We'll never make it school on time now!" Despite his complaint, the black and white child hurried back to her side.

Rainbow smiled: her son was so full of life. Such enthusiastic energy had almost never been present in Praxis. That was just one of the many reasons why she'd decided to leave the city of her heritage. "You're too young to be worrying about that kind of thing Prowl." She patted his red chevron as they crossed a street.

It really didn't take them much longer to get to the gated school yard. At the barred entrance, Rainbow buzzed the main office, identified herself and Prowl. After the gates slid back, the two walked across the grounds and into the main building. The whole while, Prowl kept looking about for his friend.

"Good morning!" Called Periwinkle, the perky pink femme manning the front desk today. "Oh, Mrs. Rainbow, I see you're here to sign Prowl in for the morning." She held out a register to the Praxian, pointing to the line to sign on. The pink femme placed a time stamp on the register as soon as Prowl's mother handed it back to her.

"Have a nice day dear!" The green and gold femme called after her son as Pariwinkle led him through the doors behind the desk and into the main building.

With a sigh, she started out of the school grounds for home. Praxis may have a much lower crime rate than Iacon, but at least she didn't have to worry about anything too bad happening to Prowl at school: the place was a miniature fortress.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

"What happened to your hand?" The moment the words were out of Prowl mouth, he wished he could stop Red Alert from hearing them. His friend stepped back, hiding his dented fingers behind his back.

"N-nothing." His red and white companion stammered, optics flicking around, trying to ascertain of anyone else had seen his damaged hand. "I just dropped something on it last night."

"Okay then." Prowl accepted. He didn't want to distress his new friend any farther by asking about the scraped paint on his legs. No one else had probable noticed it, Prowl just saw things that were out of place like that. His mom said it was a Praxian thing. "You, uh, want to come over to my home sometime after school?"

Red Alert shifted his gaze to look at his smaller friend's hopeful smile. "Y-yeah, but I need to ask my sire first."

⃠⃠⃠⃠

"You are a Praxian." Firestorm stated, looking Rainbow up and down.

"Yes, I am." The femme responded to the slightly taller mech.

"And your creation," he gestured down, without looking, at the child standing by her leg, "wants my creation to come over to your house tomorrow evening."

"Yes, he would like that very much-we would like him to come over." She smiled down at Red Alert, though the mechling didn't see it as he stared straight ahead.

"Then he will come home with your creation after school, and he will leave before dark." With that, Firestorm turned away for his home, Red Alert close on his heels. Rainbow shook her helm, reaching for Prowl's hand. Firestorm was most certainly Praxian, much more so than she ever had been.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

Outside his office window, the night lights of Iacon were muted by a heavy fog. Firestorm didn't notice since he had the blinds closed as he worked late on an Amicus Brief. The firm's workload grew very heaving this time of year and their head attorney retiring certainly didn't make things any easier on the five fulltime employees and three interns. Firestorm glanced at the clock on his desk. It was almost a quarter past midnight and there was still much that needed to be done. The Praxian rubbed at his optics: just the thought of it all made him tired. A roll of thunder pulled Firestorm's attention from his work as he momentarily saw the slits between the window blinds light up from a flash of lightning.

The storm was certainly getting worse by the hour. The yellow and red mach considered comming home to check if his son was doing alright. But no, Red Alert knew when bedtime was, and he surely had turned in for the night as soon as he got home from his friend's home. Firestorm nodded to himself as he turned back to his work. A propure Praxian parent never need to worry about such things, and while this wasn't Praxis, he was doing his best to raise Red Alert as all Praxians should be. The fact that his creation's mother wasn't Praxian and had been raised by his carrier for the beginning of his life just made things a little more challenging.

Firestorm returned to editing the briefing. He'd see his son at dawn for breakfast, or possibly in the evening, depending on how much could be finished before heading home.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

Red Alert trembled under a light pull, struggling to see through the fog. He thought he'd followed his father's instructions to the tee: he'd left before dark, hadn't accepted any rides or talked to any strangers. Yet here he stood, with no idea how to get home. If only there wasn't any of this stupid fog! With a sniffle and rub of his itching optics, Red Alert chose another light pull and started walking toward it.

As he neared the glow in the fog, a figure appeared. The figure leaned against the pillar, and as the bicolored mechling got closer he could tell it was a femme, a very curvy femme. She held a glowing stick between two of her fingers and she kept bringing it up to her mouth before exhaling a shimmering cloud.

Sickly red optics suddenly flicked in his direction, and the femme twisted her slender frame to better see the small mechling. "Well well well." A far too shiny grin split her too painted face. Red Alert drew back, he'd never seen a femme like this before; she scared him. "Come 'ere little mech." She bent over slightly, expelling another shiny breath.

Red Alert edged nearer, unsure of what this strange femme could want. "Hello?" His voice trembled.

"What's a cute li'le boy like you doin' down 'ere?" She extended a delicate hand, fingers tipped with ruby nails.

Red Alert stared at the hand. His father told him not to talk to strangers, but then, following his father's instructions weren't getting him anywhere. "I'm going home." He took the hand.

"At this 'our?" She pulled him closer and the smell coming from her glowing stick made him want to cough. "I'd tell you to be careful, but..." she put the stick in her mouth.

"I've been told that before ma'am." He looked up that her sickly optics.

"And so polite too!" The femme suddenly swung Red Alert up onto her hip. It was an awkward position given he wasn't a youngling anymore, and he found himself gripping onto the tassilly bits on her shoulders, blue optics wide. "You're so flustered." She laughed, tapping a finger against his nose.

"Please put me down." He wasn't fond of being held by anyone.

There was a screeching of tires, the sound of transformation, and the two next to the light pull could make out the form of a mech standing not too far off, watching. "Well," the femme slid Red Alert to the ground. "That'll be for me. Stay safe li'le mech!" She called over her shoulder, hurrying toward the blurry mech. Two transformation sequences later, and the mechling was all alone again. With a sigh, he chose another light pull and started walking.