Ratchet cursed as the pain shot through his sensory system and up to his mainframe, registering the pain in his foot caused by the tool he had just dropped onto it.
"Slag it all!" He snapped as he bent over to retrieve the tool. As he pulled himself back to full height he saw that someone had entered the infirmary.
"Hello Bumblebee." He said behind gritted teeth. The pain in his foot was more annoying than painful. He must have hit a senor.
"You OK, Ratchet?" Bumblebee asked as he made his way around the work table to stand next to the Autobot physician.
"I was being careless and dropped this on my foot." Ratchet explained as he sat the tool in question onto the work table along with the other tools he'd been working with.
Bumblebee winced, signaling to his comrade that he understood his discomfort.
"What brings you here? I thought Prime had confined you to your cubicle." Ratchet asked as he resumed his work on a stubborn component for Teletran I.
Bumblebee sighed. "I didn't mean to go against Prime's orders."
Ratchet laughed. "You mean you didn't mean to get caught!"
Bumblebee didn't find Ratchet' humor quite as humorous as Ratchet seemed to.
"Ha ha!" Bumblebee mocked. "Very funny."
"You need to take responsibility for what you've done, Bumblebee." Ratchet explained from his work. "Revealing yourself to those humans was very irresponsible and selfish of you. You endangered us all by saving that kid. "
Bumblebee scowled.
"I've had enough of everyone telling me that! I did what I did because it was the right thing to do!" Bumblebee snapped. "I couldn't have just sat and watched idly by while Spike was about to be executed! It goes against everything I've learned as an Autobot!"
Ratchet watched the smaller Autobot steam.
"No one said it was the wrong thing to do." Ratchet said calmly. "Honestly? I probably would have done the same thing. It's the Autobot way."
Ratchet smiled at Bumblebee.
"You're a good 'bot, Bumblebee." He said smiling. "You just need to think things through a little more."
Bumblebee left Ratchet's workshop, thinking about what the physician had just said. Suddenly he didn't feel discriminated anymore. He knew what he did was putting him and his comrades in danger, but he also knew what he did was the right thing.
He continued walking down the main corridor until he arrived in the control room, where Prowl was typing something into Teletran I.
"Prowl?" Bumblebee asked. "What are you doing?"
Prowl looked up from his work .
"Bumblebee, just the Autobot I wanted to see!" He signaled for Bumblebee to come over.
"Did that Human ever tell you his real name?" Prowl asked. "The name 'Spike' doesn't come up on Teletran."
Bumblebee gave Prowl a confused look.
"Why?" Bumblebee asked.
"I've got a hunch that I want to test. I need to know his real name."
Bumblebee thought back to when he had first met Spike.
"Eric." Bumblebee answered.
Prowl typed the name into Teletran.
"He didn't give you a surname?" Prowl asked.
"A what?" Bumblebee asked.
"Never mind." Prowl shook his head. He typed a few other things and when nothing came up he sighed, defeated.
"What else have I not tried?" He asked himself. His head shot up as he got an idea.
"I've got it!" Prowl announced. He opened up a small compartment on his com-link and pulled a wire from his wrist into Teletran I.
A picture of Spike came up onto Teletran's screen.
"Teletran, run image comparison." Prowl told the computer. Billions of different pictures ran through Teletran's data banks, while the super computer compared every single one to the image Prowl had imported from his memory banks. After a few seconds three pictures came up.
One image was that of a picture posted in a chat room of a young boy, maybe around five or six years old, and a woman. The boy sat on the woman's lap while she wrapped her arms around the young boy tenderly. Both were smiling warmly at the camera. An image of happiness captured forever in digital pixels.
Bumblebee couldn't be sure of it, but the small boy was defiantly Spike.
The second picture was that from a Junior High School's website. It was an image of a teen in a baseball uniform standing with two other kids dressed in identical uniforms. Spike was the boy in the middle, his face smeared with dirt, a baseball bat in one hand, and a smiling face.
The third was of a more ominous nature. It was a small news article from a little over a year prier. The page had three pictures throughout its content. One was that of a house, the front door standing ajar and a body lying on the threshold in a pool of blood. The second was a picture of Spike. The third was of a Caucasian man with red hair and goatee.
Prowl read the article aloud.
"'On March 14, 2005, 9-1-1 operators received a frantic call from 14 year old Eric Witwicky at 3:45 PM. Police were sent to the residence of 55687 Jasmine Trail where they found the body of 35 year old Heather Johnson Witwicky, stabbed and shot several times, lying dead on the threshold of her house. Police arrested 44 year old Ivan C. Crew in connection to the murder where he confessed to the crime a week later. Heather Witwicky's 14 year old son, Eric, was sent to St. Mary's hospital after sustaining several lacerations from the knife Crew used to murder his mother. Ivan C. Crew is set to go to trial later next year where he will face several charges including First degree murder and third degree rape. Eric Witwicky will be the key witness for prosecutors…"
"That's enough, Prowl." Bumblebee stared at the article. An overwhelming feeling of guilt flooded his sensors. "Poor Spike."
"I didn't expect it to be this bad." Prowl admitted. "I thought I'd find his name on a missing person's add, thinking he was a just an ordinary runaway teen."
Bumblebee looked at Prowl.
"What?"
"While I was studying over the human's laws and so forth I came across a website that specialized in finding missing people; mostly children. It stated that most teen runaways are either run out by family problems or they run off because they're too eager to live on their own and such. I had a hunch Spike may be one of the ones who run away because of family problems."
Just at that moment Optimus Prime and Ironhide walked into the command center.
"I think this qualifies as 'family problems' doesn't it?" He replied sourly.
"What qualifies as 'Family problems', Bumblebee?" Prime asked as Ironhide and he made their way over to them.
As Prowl was about to respond when Teletran's computerized voice interrupted.
"Incoming transmission." The super computer stated.
"A Transmission? From who?" Bumblebee asked.
"Incoming transmission is of Cybertronian origin." Replied the computer.
Optimus's optics narrowed.
"Megatron…"