Author's notes: Please don't kill me for the lateness of this or that is a bit shorter then previous installments.
EDIT: Sorry for the typos. ^^;
Phase Twelve: Saved by the Bell
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brea's fear was momentarily forgotten upon entering the busting melee that was the Iacon Academy's main lobby. Her expectations of their visit had produced so many different images, but artistic was never one of them. The lobby, so far as she could tell and like much of everything on Cybertron, was made of metal, but the colors! The floor was like a giant mosaic, made of small squares of metal of every color imaginable pieced together and that then trailed all the way through the long entry way to the long circular desk that appeared to be the receptionist area. Several Mechs were dawdling around behind the counter on computers or speaking with other presumptive visitors.
Their entrance to the lobby was thoroughly unnoticed by those around them, something Brea was curious, but not all together sorrowful to see. She was certain should they be pointed out and surrounded by curious onlookers, she would have a heart attack. To keep her mind away from such things, she turned her attention back to the architecture. The ceiling was a large dome with ornate geometric patterns that reminded her somehow of the algebra II graphs sheets she had often been assigned that when completed, created a pattern on the page. As she stared up at it, Brea was unexpectedly reminded of the Sistine Chapel, needing to only replace the complex geometric patterns with naked people and cherubs to complete the impression.
"This place is amazing…"
Brea turned to look at Craig to see that he was not immune the room's impression.
"It kind of looks like the Sistine chapel," added Brea. Craig looked up as if to compare the mental image and a broad smile graced his face and a breathy laugh escaped him.
"Ha! It does, doesn't it?"
"This lobby was designed and built by Grapple, widely considered Iacon's greatest architect," Perceptor informed them. The scientist led the way through the lobby towards a small circular alcove where he took a seat on a, comparatively, small polished black metal bench. Bluestreak then occupied the one beside it. "And a very good friend of mine."
"Yeah, during the war, this is where we use to hold a lot of meetings and Grapple was always complaining about how gloomy it looked in here, so when the war ended and the school was being refurbished and repaired, he volunteered to do the lobby," Bluestreak explained. "Took him forever and ended up delaying the school's reopening by at least eleven orns. Got a lot of folks mad but they shut up pretty quickly when they finally saw it."
"They'd have to!" Brea laughed. Perceptor sat both humans down on the bench, freeing his hands to point out various pieces or details of the room and the significance behind them. When he began to explain that the designs on the ceiling were actually complex algorithms translated into graphical shapes, Brea's mind boggled and she barely heard, let alone understood, much of which Perceptor said after that.
"I never understood math very well," Brea replied, studying the ceiling with new wonder and thorough incomprehension. "Never knew it could be art either…"
"Math is the language of the universe, little human," a new voice, jovial and unfamiliar, startled Brea from her reverie and she looked over to see a Mech approach them and pause but a step from where the sat. The Mech stood a little taller then Perceptor with brown and silver armor, a face mask like Wheeljack covering the lower portion of his face. "It is the one true art to which we are all subject. You will be thoroughly conversed on the subject before you leave us, of that I am most certain."
Perceptor stood and shook the stranger's hand. "It is good to see you, Brainstorm."
"Likewise, Perceptor likewise. Always a pleasure to see you," the duly named Brainstorm then approached Bluestreak with an offered hand. "Bluestreak! How are you, my boy? I hardly recognized you without those beastly oversized cannons weighing you down!"
"Yeah well, it's a lot easier to move around now without 'em. Makes turning corners a lot easier too!" the younger Mech replied with a bright smile.
"I do not doubt it!" Brainstorm laughed cheerfully. "I imagine Prowl disposed of his as well?"
"Yeah, but I think he keeps them in his quarters, I thought I saw them once, but I wasn't sure."
"Well, one wouldn't take Prowl to be the nostalgic sort, now would they? Although I really wouldn't be surprised if it were true," Brainstorm then turned to Brea and Craig, bowing his head as he did so. "And I must extend my most principal salutations to you, my dear guests. My associates and I are incredibly thrilled of your participation in this initiative. I would endeavor to shake hands, but I fear due to our respective proportions, such formalities would be awkward and moreover improbable."
Brea found herself unable to contain her goofy smile.
"The first seminar is scheduled to begin in half a joor, so that should be plenty of time to get settled," Brainstorm explained as Bluestreak and Perceptor went about unpacking their things and setting up a human area of the room they had been given. Upon entering the rather spacious room, Brainstorm explained that it was one of the academy's instructor's quarters that were kept on hand for visiting guests like them. There was a commons area that then lead into three other rooms, two for 'recharge' and the third for 'fuel'; Brea mentally labeled it as the kitchen. Brea and Craig would occupy a corner of the room where all their supplies would be set up along with beds and what Perceptor called their 'portable waste disposal unit'.
"It's a port-a-potty," Brea snickered quietly to Craig who broke out in a grin.
Brainstorm approached their little corner. "The headmaster has requested a quick meeting before we begin the seminar," said Brainstorm. Brea noticed the question was directed at her and Craig rather then Perceptor or Bluestreak. Uncertain, they glanced at Perceptor who nodded.
"I have no objections if everyone is willing." They had no such objections, but even if they did how could they refuse? Moreover, what reason was there?
With less then three hours before they were planned to hold the first of several meetings with the school's students, Brea and Craig found themselves waiting for the Headmaster. Despite her attempts to imagine what the headmaster might look like, all Brea could envision was a robotic version of Dumbledore. After the third time of Craig asking what she was snickering about, she ceased the mental imagery.
Little over ten minutes later the door to their 'apartment' opened and a Mech walked in. Brea stared with wide eyes at the mountain of a Mech that entered, any assumptions of him resembling the weedy lithe figure of the fictional wizardry school flying instantly out the proverbial window. The Mech was as bulky as Optimus, though not quite as tall, with a very demanding presence. As he scanned the room, his optics falling on each of them in turn, Brea saw a familiar sharpness to his gaze…as if he was staring right through you.
Like Xeon.
Brea felt her heart quicken as she began to doubt her concession to the meeting. All that despite the Mech's color scheme of bright shiny yellow and what appeared to be an undecided shade of purplish pink. She unconsciously shrunk away from the figure, yet never taking her eyes off him as if he was a stalking predator.
"Impactor," Perceptor greet the Mech as amiably as he had Brainstorm, as did Bluestreak who eagerly approached and offered his hand in greetings. "It is an honor to see you again, sir."
"Cut the formalities, Percy," The headmaster quipped. "I have no tolerance for them and Brainstorm here gives me an audio full whenever I'm in range."
"Perhaps you should turn your audio receptors off then," Brainstorm retorted to a round of laughs. "He complains often enough."
"Alright, enough with this pleasantry slag," Impactor replied with a wave of his hand. "Where are these humans everyone's so glitched about?"
As the Mech glanced around for them, Brea shrunk farther away and mentally prepared to bolt if need, never minding the fact she was on a table with very limited options. Craig peeked at her curiously and was about to inquire when Impactor suddenly appeared beside the table they were sitting on. Brea stared intently at him, but he didn't seem to notice or take any special interest in the somewhat hostile behavior. In the corner of her eye, however, she noticed Perceptor and Bluestreak exchange a worried glance.
"Frag these guys are smaller then I imagined," the new Mech stated bluntly.
To her surprised, Craig laughed. "Small isn't always a bad thing."
"Never said it was, little guy," Impactor replied, a smirk coming to his face. "So what do I call you then?"
"My name's Craig," she felt him grab her arm and pull her forward, "And this is Brea."
Impactor glanced her way expectantly, but was offered no greetings other then a wary stare that border-lined on a glare. "Is she broken or something?" Impactor asked, unimpressed.
"No, I think she's just, ah…a little intimidated maybe," Craig replied hastily, rubbing Brea's shoulders in a silent placating gesture.
Impactor barked a laugh. "I tend to have that effect on some people. Not many have the ball bearings to glare at me though…"
She scrambled back when he leaned down, his face awkwardly close to their level. Using Craig's bulk to shield herself, Brea stared. After a moment, the smug grin on Impactor's face faded into a neutral, almost thoughtful, expression. "See something interesting?" He asked.
She didn't answer right away.
"You have his eyes," Brea replied at last in a quiet, almost accusing, tone. His expression didn't change.
"Who?"
"Xeon." She replied, a bite to her tone.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and then burst into laughter causing Brea to jump again, sliding further behind Craig. "The eyes of a monster, right?" She didn't answer him and Impactor just chuckled. Without another word, he reached out and nudged the older human aside and before she could react, he reached for her and plucked her up from the table. Despite the other's protests, Impact turned and found a chair, easily sliding into it and gazing at the human who had gone docile in his grip.
"You have good senses," He remarked, amused. "Although to my credit, I've killed a frag of a lot more Mechs then he has, directly anyway. Xeon's more of a manipulator. I like to use my hands."
He unclenched his fingers, freeing Brea to stand freely on his thigh. Uncertain and a little more then startled, Brea stayed perfectly still.
"Here's the thing about monsters, kiddo," He told her as he slouched in his seat, "The war made monsters out of all of us. Every one of in this room took a life over the course of the war, even good ol' Perry over there." Stunned, Brea turned to look at aforementioned Mech who merely nodded, albeit not without an air of remorse. "But that don't make him a monster does it? No, not really. Perceptor is as dangerous as a door knob with half the tolerance for pain. There are two kinds of monsters in this world; the ones you see and the ones you don't. The ones you see aren't what you should be afraid of, it's the ones you can't."
He nudged the side of her arm in a way that might have seemed playful. "You could see it in me plain and easy the moment you caught sight of me, so you got nothing to be scared of here. I may be a monster," he smirked at her, "But I have principles. And hurting and/or killing defenseless organics ain't one of 'em. So loosen up a bit. You can't very well teach these green wires anything if your too afraid to talk to 'em, now can ya?"
Brea was somewhat alleviated but was by no means at ease. He still gave her an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
"But I bet you didn't notice a thing when you saw ol' Xeon for the first time, now did ya?" he added. "And I bet it was a nasty surprise when you found out too, huh?"
Her eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in there recalling of the moment she knew. Regretfully she nodded.
Impactor just snorted a small laugh. "Thought so."
"Impactor, please," Perceptor interjected, stepping up to the Mech and placing a hand on his forearm. "Humans are extremely vulnerable to trauma and Brea's case is especially delicate when it comes to Xeon, you see…"
"I already know about all that," he waved the scientist off. "Prime filled me in on the details. So what?"
"I am merely requesting you not upset her. She's come along way in recovery and it would be detrimental to us all should all that be reversed."
Studying the scientist for a moment, Impactor shrugged and scooped Brea up once more to hand her to Perceptor. "Fine."
"Thank you, sir," he said, carefully accepting the human.
"Less then an hour until these two are exposed for a group of chattering younglings, you think they're ready for that?" The Headmaster asked. "Won't do them or their cause much good if they aren't."
"They're ready," Perceptor replied.
The room the seminars were being held resembled a theater in its construction with rows and rows of chairs planted on tiers that lowered further and further towards the front at a measured slope. A raised platform acted as the stage and as the center of focus where the audience would be directing their attention. A table had been set up on the raised dais and behind it were several chairs where Perceptor, Bluestreak, Impactor, and two others would sit and act as moderators. A podium was erected stage left, bit its purpose or use in the proceedings hadn't been explained.
Brea and Craig waited on a table in a smaller room that branched off from the main theater while the students were steered in and to their seats. Through the door, they could hear them chattering between them and it reminded Brea of her high school whenever they had been ushered into the auditorium for a presentation of some sort and it always took the teachers a long while to settle everyone. Brea tried to make out what they were saying but the muffling effect the door and the molding of so many conversations made it near impossible. Then all at once the chattering died down into abrupt silence. Impactor's voice was then heard, sounding amplified, and even through the door Brea could make out a little of what he was saying. It was a quick summary of why they had been chosen and gathered and what they should expect and how they should behave and what they should expect should they not behave. The details of which Brea found rather…imaginative despite her lack of knowledge concerning Cybertronian anatomy. However, Bluestreak was apparently well of hearing and understandably knowledgeable for he muffled a rather loud snicker and earned a somewhat disapproving glance from Perceptor.
Suddenly the door to the waiting room opened and Brainstorm peeked in. "They're ready," he said. Perceptor carefully scooped up Craig while Bluestreak took Brea before filing out into the auditorium as they were then directed to the stage. The room had been dimmed, leaving the light to shine solely on the raised dais. A virtual ocean of eyes, tiny blue pin points of light, stared out at them as they climbed the small set of stairs to the dais.
Strangely enough as she and Craig were carefully placed onto the table, Brea's mind, as it often did in the most inappropriate of times, conjured up an absurd image of Monty Python's skit where Terry Jones, Michael Palin, and Terry Gilliam, all dressed in red, jump to the forefront of the scene, cackling, "No one expects the Spanish inquisition!"
Impactor stood at the podium to their left, watching as they enter. He waited until both humans had been set on the table and all moderators had taken their seats before turning back to the audience. In Cybertronian, the Headmaster introduced Brea and Craig.
"Welcome our guests as if they were Primus himself. They're here to help you understand a very real crisis our planet is going through, and subsequently theirs. Any form of harassment, verbal or otherwise, will earn a one way ticket to the training field and if need be I'll call in Springer to oversee it all. Keep all those instructions I just gave you in mind when you ask your questions. And if they don't wanna answer, they don't have to. They're here for your benefit so mute your vocalizer and listen." Impactor then turned to Brea and Craig who stood on the table, side by side under the focus of the room's light, and nodded. "They're all yours."
Author's notes part two: If anyone is curious about Impactor, he was the leader of the Wreckers before Springer. Although he died in the comics, making Springer the new leader, I kept him alive because he is awesome and kicks ass. Although, the wreckers in general are awesome kick ass, figurativly and literally.