Hey, look, only three days late this time! Aren't you all so proud of me? :D Anyway, enjoy. As always, thanks to my faithful beta-reader GoldenEagle for editing.
Bumblebee and his team stood gathered around the Alchemor's control console. The only ones missing were Knockout and Sideswipe, who were both in the medical area. Strongarm had insisted on postponing her medical treatment, opting instead to join the debriefing that Bumblebee had ordered.
"As I told Bumblebee, the only prisoner matching your description is a Predacon by the name of Iron Wing," Fix-it began, pulling up the file on the prisoner roster. An image of a leonine beast-former with wings and a scorpion tail appeared on the computer screen.
"That's the perp, all right," Strongarm confirmed.
Denny squinted at the screen. "He looks like a manticore—from Greek mythology."
"It's probably the other way around," Bumblebee corrected. "A lot of earth's mythical beasts were actually derived from Predacons who came to the planet millions of years ago."
"Wait, there were Cybertronians on ancient Earth?!" Russell leaned over the Alchemor's railing, elated at this information.
"Um, yes. It's a long story; I'll explain later."
"More importantly, how did Autobots get custody of a Predacon in the first place?" Strongarm frowned. "They're an independent society—they handle their own criminals."
"True. But Iron Wing is no longer legally acknowledged as a Predacon," Fix-it explained, tapping away at the keyboard. "According to his file, he was exiled after challenging the current Predacon leader for dominance."
Bee let out a low whistle. "He challenged Predaking? This guy's either really tough or really stupid."
"Most likely a combination of both. Anyway, after being rejected by the Predacons, he attacked an Autobot city and attempted to take over. The Elite Guard were able to bring him down, but they suffered heavy casualties in the process. He was sentenced to life in prison as a result."
Bumblebee rubbed his chin, mulling over the information. From the file, and Strongarm's description of his behavior, it was clear that this 'Con was power-hungry. Predacons in general tended to think of themselves as a superior race, but this one seemed to be taking the idea further—to the point that he was trying to subjugate those he saw as lesser beings.
"I don't think we'll need to worry about Iron Wing teaming up with Steeljaw," Bee thought aloud. "He'd see that kind of alliance as beneath him. Even by himself, though, he won't be easy to take down, and it'll be hard to take care of him without the humans noticing."
"Yeah, giant robotic manticores tend to attract attention," Denny quipped.
"Especially when they have no sense of subtlety," Bumblebee agreed. "I mean, attacking an Autobot city all by himself? I don't think 'cautious' is in this guy's vocabulary."
"If he tried to conquer a city on Cybertron, he might do the same here," Strongarm suggested. Bee nodded in agreement.
"Good point, cadet. Fix-it, you still have a lock on his energy signature?"
"Yes, sir!" the mini-con affirmed, puffing up with pride. "He's currently still airborne, a few miles to the north. But we'll know the second he touches down."
"Good." Bumblebee faced his troops. "All right, here's the plan of action: Fix-it will keep an eye on the convict's movements and alert us if he gets too close to a populated area. Crown City is the nearest human settlement and, I think, the most likely target. Those of us with vehicle modes will patrol there so we can respond quickly if he does show up. Grimlock—"
The Dinobot punched his fists together in anticipation of his assignment.
"—You'll be on call here. If Iron Wing goes somewhere besides Crown City, it'll be up to you to keep him busy until we can get there."
"What about Sideswipe?" Strongarm pointed out. "I'm not sure he should be in the field after being injured like that."
"I'll talk to Knockout—if he okays Sideswipe for field duty, then he'll come with us. Otherwise, he'll stay here and help Fix-it."
"Will Knockout be staying as well?" Fix-it asked. That made Bumblebee pause; he'd almost forgotten about the extra mech now on their team. Bee considered Fix-it's question. Knockout was, first and foremost, a medic—but he'd seen his share of battle as well. Bee had been on the business end of his energon staff enough times to know Knockout could handle himself in a fight. Of course, that had been during the war, decades ago; he had no idea if the medic's combat skills had faded.
Although he can still throw a punch, Bee thought ruefully, feeling his jaw twinge at the memory.
"Knockout will come with us," Bumblebee decided aloud. Even if Knockout was rusty, his combat experience would be useful. And, Bee admitted to himself, he wanted to keep an eye on the medic. Knockout was acting squirrely, and he wanted to know why. No matter what the medic said, Bee's instincts insisted he was concealing something—and if Knockout wouldn't tell him the truth, Bumblebee would ferret it out himself.
Sideswipe fidgeted on the berth, clutching his damaged arm close to his chest. He avoided optic contact as Knockout brought his kit over. The medic set the pack off to the side and watched the youngling expectantly.
"Sideswipe," he said finally, as if talking to an uncooperative sparkling. "You need to show me your arm before I can fix it."
The youngling scowled but he thrust his arm out. Knockout wordlessly began removing the plating, exposing the venom-soaked circuits inside. The silence sat heavily over the makeshift med-bay as he cleaned the damaged limb and Sideswipe pointedly avoided his gaze.
"…Well, this is unusual." Knockout broke the silence after several minutes. "No complaining, no snide remarks—did your vocalizer get damaged, too?
"My vocalizer's fine, old mech." Sideswipe put some extra force behind the last words. Knockout, however, showed no reaction to the insult. The silence returned; the soft clicks and clanks of Knockout repairing his arm grated on Sideswipe's audio receptors like nails on a chalkboard.
Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "What are you doing here, Knockout?"
"I'm fixing an insolent youngling; I'd think that was obvious."
"Not what I meant." Sideswipe glared at the older bot. "I mean, what are you doing on earth? I specifically remember you saying you weren't going to come running if I got myself into slag."
"So I did. I guess you can't trust a 'Con to keep his word." Knockout didn't even look up as he gave the terse reply. "At least here, you can pretend you don't know me; I'd hate for my past to embarrass you."
Surprise flickered across Sideswipe's face at the statement. "You mean… Bee doesn't know? You didn't tell him you're my-?"
"No. Although I'm surprised he didn't know; police mechs tend to find out that sort of thing when they arrest you."
"It was only a traffic violation," Sideswipe muttered defensively. "Can't turn a corner on Cybertron without breaking some law…"
"So you decided to just waltz off to an alien planet and try your luck there?!" Knockout's fist suddenly slammed down on the berth, making Sideswipe jump. He looked at the medic in alarm.
"Hey, calm down—!"
"No, I will not 'calm down'!" Knockout jabbed a finger in Sideswipe's face, optics blazing. "You literally disappeared off the face of the planet! Without a trace, just disappeared! I had no way of knowing what happened! The only record of where you'd gone was the report of an unidentified youngling going through a hijacked space bridge; if Jazz hadn't shown up at my door and confirmed that it was you, I'd still be looking for you in the scrap heaps!"
Sideswipe bit his lip, trying to ignore the guilt welling up in his tanks. "I was fine. You didn't have to look for me; I can look after myself!"
"I'll believe that when I see it!" Knockout snapped. "Whatever you might think, you have an enormous talent for getting into trouble! If it's not with the police, it's problems at school, or with the other younglings—and now you get yourself involved in a prison escape, for Pit's sake!"
"Hey, it's not like I arranged it! I didn't know I was going to be playing 'Catch the 'Con' here!" Sideswipe huffed. Knockout snorted and went back to his work with vigor. For a few moments, they stewed in silence, with only the occasional clicks of metal against metal to interrupt their brooding.
"I was worried, Sides," Knockout finally whispered. There was still bitterness in his tone, but it was softer now; anguished, almost. "You can't begin to understand how worried I was."
Sideswipe fixed his gaze on a stain on the berth and remained silent. Truth be told, he hadn't considered how Knockout might react to his leaving. When he'd stepped through that space bridge onto Earth, the only thing on his mind had been freedom. Cybertron and all its rules were light-years away, and he had a whole planet to himself to do whatever his spark desired.
It hadn't occurred to him that Knockout might get concerned…
Sideswipe flinched as he suddenly felt a hand on the back of his helm.
"Calm down; I'm just turning your pain receptors back on." Sideswipe kept still as Knockout fiddled with the connections in his helm. He heard a click, followed by a tingling sensation as the feeling returned to his body. Knockout took his arm again and started putting its armor back in place. "How do you feel?"
Sideswipe flexed his fingers experimentally. They responded without hesitation, much to his relief. There was a dull ache throughout the limb, but nothing like the intense pain he'd felt before. "It feels okay," he admitted, appreciating the medic's work despite himself.
"Good. Go easy on it for the next day or so and let me know if it starts acting up again." With that, Knockout turned his back on Sideswipe and began cleaning his tools. "Your other damage is negligible; you'll be sore for a while, but your self-repair systems should take care of it in a few decacycles. I can buff out the scratches for you, if you'd like."
"I'm good," Sideswipe mumbled, examining his repaired arm. Apart from the aching, it looked and felt as good as new; the only mark was the warped patch where Knockout had welded over the hole the stinger had left. Sideswipe glanced at the medic, but Knockout seemed to have forgotten him now that his injuries had been treated. Or, more likely, was ignoring him.
Sideswipe hopped off the berth but hesitated to leave. A voice in the back of his processor whispered that this was a chance to make things right. If he'd just suck it up and admit he'd been out of line that night, that he hadn't meant what he said… Sideswipe struggled with the voice as he turned to go.
"Oh—here, I forgot this."
Sideswipe turned just in time to see a small object flying at him. He caught it reflexively before it hit his chestplates.
"You still like those, right?" Knockout said in response to his questioning look. Sideswipe looked at the object the medic had thrown. It was a small cube wrapped in silver foil, a soft blue glow barely visible through the wrapper. An energon sweet—like he'd always gotten after check-ups when he was little.
Sideswipe's expression hardened. His fist clenched around the cube, threatening to crush it. "I'm not a sparkling anymore," he spat, glaring at the medic.
"If you don't want it, don't eat it." Knockout went back to cleaning his tools. Any guilt Sideswipe felt was drowned by the rush of anger. He stomped out of the med-bay without another word.
"Who does that glitch think he is?" the youngling muttered under his breath. He started toward the front of the Alchemor, but decided he didn't feel like facing the rest of the team right now. Instead, he turned and walked deeper into the junkyard, losing himself among the heaps of antique rubbish.
"I was doing fine on my own. I don't need him looking after me—" Sideswipe winced as a twinge of pain shot up his arm, as if to remind him that he did, in fact, need looking after. He moved to rub the sore spot, only to remember that he was still holding the energon sweet. He looked once more at the tiny cube, its silver covering glistening in the sunlight. Pink glyphs on the wrapper identified it as chromium-flavored—those had always been his favorite.
Sideswipe scowled at the sweet. With an exasperated huff, he tore the foil off and shoved it in his mouth.
"Not a sparkling," he muttered, and ground the sweet between his teeth.