A/N: Was just doing some browsing of my stories tonight, and realized to my horror I'd never gotten this thing posted. So, uh, sorry! Please enjoy, but realize I probably won't come back to this story for a while yet...
Handy-Dandy Name Guide:
Hank Veer - Hot Rod
Spencer Ringer - Springer
Rhea Curtis - Arcee
Barry Fleet - Blurr
Trenton Hepley - Cliffjumper
Warren Palomine - Warpath
Kyle Kup
Skylar Dawning - Skyfire
Travis Hepley - Ironhide
Niko Jacoby - Bluestreak
Josh le Rue - Jazz
Rafferty Paean - Ratchet
Bumblebee
Aiden Spiro - First Aid
Sly Smith - Smokescreen
Prescott Hunter - Prowl
Owen Priam - Optimus Prime
Bolton Grey - Silverbolt
Coming up:
Jackson Wheeler - Wheeljack
Percival Torrel - Perceptor
Mic Hearth - Inferno
Frieda Solareen - Firestar
Harrison Spiro - Hot Spot
Sullivan Spiro - Streetwise
Geronimo Spiro - Groove
Sam Kall - Sunstreaker
Sid Kall - Sideswipe
Micheal Kall - Red Alert
Amy Radburn - Air Raid
Shawn Grey - Slingshot
Devin Sojon - Skydive
Freddy Flinter - Fireflight
Bernadette Spiro - Blades
Preston Glover - Powerglide
Trevor Bornan - Trailbreaker
Ted Tailor - Tracks
Hob MacDonald - Hoist
Abigail Gruten - Grapple
Gerald O'Brian - Gears
Marian Wisp - Mirage
Casey Wolfe - Hound
Billy Sternin - Blaster
Reyna Cassetti - Rewind
Jager Cassetti - Steeljaw
Ramira Cassetti - Ramhorn
Eli Cassetti - Eject
Chuck Moss - Cosmos
Elisa Tran-Priam - Elita One
Cynthia Hepley - Chromia
Luna Challenger - Moonracer
Markus Priam - Ultra Magnus
Bruce Strom - Bulkhead
Haley Fir - Huffer
Luke Machino - Brawn
Wally Fleet - Wheelie
Charlie Winters - Windcharger
Herbert Wave - Beachcomber
Natalie Wave - Nautica
Sherman Saltis - Seaspray
Grimlock
Swoop
Snarl
Slag
Sludge
Steven Oakley - Omega Supreme
Garfield Wicker - Wreck-Gar
Alphius Tran - Alpha Trion
67 in total. And with exception of my last few portraits to color, they're all posted to my DeviantArt account, where I also go by the name Triscribe.
Klik (Second)
Breem (Minute) 100 kliks
Joor (Hour) 60 breems
Orn (Day) 30 joors - 15 for a day cycle, 15 for a night cycle
Deca-orn (Week) 10 orns
Groon (Month) 3 deca-orns/30 orns
Vorn (Year) 14 groons/42 decaorns/420 orns
Chapter 4 - Volatile
"I'm so glad you guys are finally starting the demolitions unit." Wheeljack said cheerfully as he led the six trainees out to where his lab/bunker was located at the edge of the valley. "I always have such fun explaining about the various materials we use, and of course it's of the utmost importance to be able to observe your target and determine where the best weak points to place the explosives are..."
"Isn't this the guy that Jazz said caused things to blow up no matter how supposedly non-volatile they were?" Springer whispered.
"Yeah, I think so." Hank muttered back. "Why?"
"Is he really the best person to be teaching us how to handle explosive compounds, then, if there's a good chance he could cause them to go off at any time?"
His friend paused for half a beat. "Fair point. Let's keep the cousins in between us and the bombs, then."
"Oh, brilliant strategy." Hank had to dodge the swat that Springer aimed at him. "I can totally see why they decided that you were officer material."
"Really? And here I thought it was my charms and good looks." The pair continued to quietly banter all the way up to the door of the bunker, which Wheeljack led the group of trainees through.
"I hope it goes without saying, but please make sure you don't touch anything unless we say so." The engineer cheerfully told them, as he worked his way around to crowded tables to an equally disorganized series of shelving units in the back of the main room. "Hey Percy! I've got the newcomers out here!"
"Ah." A voice returned flatly from one of the doors leading to a personal workspace. "Have they come to finally help you arrange your clutter into some form of order?"
"Clutter! I'll have you know that I'm perfectly aware of where every item is in this place! Now, where did I put those thermite bombs..."
"Of course you are," the spectacled scientist appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag and looking bemusedly at his companion. "That's why you know the devices you are looking for are, in fact, on the opposite shelf."
Wheeljack turned around, and let out a cheer of triumph when he came nose to label with the bombs. "Thanks Perce! Dunno what I'd do without you."
"Die a fiery death with no warning, and condemn others to the same fate as you never label or organize your creations."
"True." The engineer never lost his grin during this morbid agreement, a fact that had Hank and Springer exchanging nervous looks.
Evidently, they weren't the only nervous ones either, as Blurr was trying to subtly edge away as Wheeljack got closer and closer with his box of explosives. "So, um, when you say 'die a fiery death with no warning,' does that just apply to working in here-or-are-we-going-to-have-to- be-really-careful-out-there-too?" Cliffjumper blinked at the speed at which the younger teen launched out his words.
"Nah, we've got nothing to worry about with these!" Wheeljack either didn't notice or ignored the derisive snort Perceptor unleashed. "Now let's get going!"
Reluctantly, the recruits followed him back out and around the bunker to a large section of scorched ground, devoid of any plant life whatsoever. At the far end of it were some targets looking rather worse for wear, while much closer were a line of blast shields in much the same condition.
"Now," Wheeljack gestured for them all to come listen as he set the box down. "The first thing to bear in mind when handling sensitive material is safety. I know I've got a bit of a reputation to the contrary, but it's true." He began to carefully pull out six bombs.
"Uh, I hate to be rude, but shouldn't we be learning about these things first and then using them?" Springer asked nervously, but the engineer waved the question off.
"I tend to be one of those 'learning on the job' type of guys." He informed them. "So! Everybody take a bomb, come on now, don't be shy. I'll show you how to activate them, and then it's just a matter of getting the timing right for the the throw and release-"
"Still takin' the quick 'n dirty method of teachin' your students, so I see." A cheerful voice called out from further down the slope. Nearly as one, the recruits all turned to look, and quickly spotted the group of five people approaching them.
Meanwhile, Wheeljack groaned. "Aw, not the party poopers again."
Hank noted that three of the newcomers had firefighting gear - an older man and younger woman with similar features along with a lighter skinned guy - while the other two had an assortment of tools as though ready to launch themselves into any emergency.
"Hi there, folks!" The tall fellow who'd announced their presence a moment before grinned. "Hope we weren't interruptin' anything."
"Of course you were, but when's that ever stopped you, 'Ferno?" Wheeljack replied, getting to his feet.
"Very rarely, I'll admit."
"Hn. Trainees, these here are Inferno and his niece Firestar, our top firefighters. And these three ugly mugs you'll know as Aid and Blades' big brothers: Hot Spot, Streetwise and Groove."
"'Sup?" The shortest of the sibling trio said, the one who looked most like First Aid. "Thought you guys might feel a bit better 'bout this lesson if there were some Rescue Crew members on hand - just in case, of course."
"Of course," Wheeljack said dryly, but not without a hint of amusement.
"Aw, we're not here 'cause we think you need the supervision, 'Jack, it's just fer the new lot's peace of mind." Firestar smiled at him. "Personally, I'd rather be spending our first orn of th' groon back in the Valley relaxin' or spendin' some time with the Twins-"
"Why you went and made friends with them I will never understand." Inferno shook his head.
"I could say th' exact same thing about you and Red, y'know." His niece retorted, which caused the other three to snicker. The man just took it good-naturedly, and gestured for Wheeljack to continue with his demonstration.
"Well! As I was saying, everyone go ahead and take a bomb..."
-HF-ST-
When the six recruits dragged themselves into the mess hall for lunch that orn, Jazz took one look at them and burst out laughing. From head to toe, each trainee was covered in a messy array of soot and scorch marks, what skin they had exposed (mostly that of their faces) distinctly singed. Even worse was the way each of them were still damp from the firefighters' help when things got a little out of control - Warpath was especially drenched, since being the biggest also meant he was the most likely of them to accidentally catch fire.
Ratchet's reaction was a little more appreciated. He saw the state of the trainees, and immediately hauled aft out of the hall to go yell at Wheeljack.
"Schedule says we don't have anything else for this afternoon, right?" Cliffjumper groaned as he dropped into a chair.
"Right," Arcee responded, equally exhausted from the stressful morning. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna hit the showers and then take a nap."
"Sounds like a good plan to me." Springer agreed. "After we eat, though." And that was the exact sequence of events that the youths took, all except Hank. He went along so far as to eat his lunch and shower, but after that he headed off to the training center for a sparring session he had scheduled with Bee.
Upon arriving at the building, though, he was startled to find the irritated looking twelve vorn old standing just inside the entrance with his arms crossed, glaring at a pair of young men fighting one another on the main mat. Hank's eyebrows rose as he witnessed what looked to be a truly vicious battle, and had he not known the two were brothers he'd have felt obligated to step in and put a stop to it before someone got seriously hurt.
"I take it the Twins have filched our usual time slot." He said to the torqued off kid beside him. Bee nodded furiously, miming tapping at a watch as if one were on his bare wrist. "Well... Why don't we go ahead and do something to convince them to move on?"
Bumblebee blinked and looked up and Hank's smirk, an identical one slowly appearing appearing on his own face.
The first that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker knew of their new opponents was when a length of wire cord suddenly wrapped itself around the ankles of the twin with gold streaks in his black mane, pulling his legs out from under him. A mere second later, the twin with the tips of his hair dyed bright red stumbled forward and fell to his hands and knees with the addition of a Bee-sized weight landing upon his back.
"Hey! What gives?" Sideswipe protested, as his brother set about undoing the cord around his feet. Bumblebee shoved a datapad into the startled twin's face.
You're time's up. Shoo.
Laughing, Sides got back up, the blonde kid still clinging to him like a limpet. "Seriously? What, you want the place to yourself so you can practice those dinky little martial arts moves?"
"Actually, we need the space to spar." Hank mentioned as he stepped forward to where the brothers could see him.
Sunstreaker snorted in disdain. "You're taking lessons from the pipsqueak? Isn't that a tad ridiculous even for you, Hot Rod?"
"Yeah! He barely even knows any lethal stuff!" The other twin laughed. "You'd be much better off sparring with one of us."
"Uh, thanks, but I'd rather not subject myself to another med bay visit any time soon."
"Aw, the Hatchet's not so bad, at least not once you learn when's a good or bad time for pushing his buttons. And I'd say any trip into his domain would be worth it, to garner even just a hint of sympathy from the lovely Miss Aid." Rolling his eyes, Sunstreaker aimed a kick at his brother's shin, causing Sideswipe to yelp and start hopping about on one foot, which jarred Bee enough that he dropped off.
"You do realize that most of the guys around here now hate us for getting Ratch to instigate that 'no flirting in the med bay' rule, right?"
"Eh, their loss. If they can't work up the courage to flaunt the rules, that's their fault!"
Hank blinked at them. "Wait. You two caused that?"
"Oh, yeah - started out as a bet to see who could get a kiss from First Aid before the other. Then Hatchet found out, and decided to make the med bay off limits to flirting, since that's where she spends most of the orn, and the rest of the time has one or more of her siblings around. Though, those guys aren't half as scary as Ratch, no matter how many punches Blades throws on a daily basis." The twins shared a smug grin as Bee rolled his eyes and Hank slowly shook his head.
"Hey!" Sideswipe suddenly exclaimed. "I've got a great idea - you want to spar, and we don't want to leave just yet, so why don't we do a two on two deal?"
"...Do you mean me and the kid versus you two or-?"
"Nah, may as well make it interesting: one of us on each side along with both of you." Hank didn't even have time to voice his uneasiness with the idea before Bee was nodding in agreement. He took a moment to tap out a quick message and show it to the trainee.
You're getting good enough now I want to see how you do against someone your own size.
"Oh. Okay, then. I guess." Reluctantly, Hank took his usual stance on one side of the mat, alongside a bored looking Sunstreaker.
"Just stay out of my way, rookie." The buffer youth snorted, as Sides gave the signal to start.
-HF-ST-
A couple joors later, the med bay doors slid open, prompting both Ratchet and First Aid to turn towards them. Bumblebee was standing at the threshold, hands clasped behind his back and gaze glued to the floor. Even so, the two medical staff members could see the marks on his skin and clothes indicating a recent scuffle - or sparring session.
"Alright," Ratchet sighed. "Who else was involved, and where are the slaggers hiding?" The kid pointed off to the right, towards the building's northern entrance before stepping aside so that the irritated doctor could storm out. Bee waited a few moments, then looked in the opposite direction and made a hurry up gesture. First Aid watched, eyebrow raised, as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker quickly shuffled in, supporting a groggy Hot Rod between them.
"This was so not our fault." Sides hastily said as the two of them deposited their charge on a berth.
"Suuure it wasn't." The medical apprentice snickered. "Now go on, get, before my boss shows back up. Swing by here tonight just after sunset and I'll patch up whatever bumps and bruises you two have."
"You aren't gonna try and treat us now?" Sideswipe pulled out his wounded puppy-dog face, which disappeared just as fast when Aid brandished a wrench at him.
"Consider it your punishment for getting him back in here so soon. Now, scoot!" The red clothed twin went ahead on out the door that Bee continued to hold open, but Sunny paused long enough to deliver a light kiss to First Aid's cheek first before he bolted as well.
Seeing the dopey smile the medic had gained, Bumblebee sighed and took himself over to another berth to wait for Ratchet's inevitable return.
-HF-ST-
It wasn't until well after dinner that Hank shuffled into the trainee's barracks and flopped face first onto his bed. Across the aisle, Arcee and Springer looked up from their card game to blink at him.
"Where the slag have you been?" The girl asked. She snorted when Hank just gave an indistinguishable mutter against the mattress.
"Let me guess - rough sparring session with Bee?" Springer's question got the other boy to lift his head with a grimace.
"Worse. The Twins joined us."
The other trainees winced automatically. "What in the name of Primus made you agree to go up against them?" Arcee questioned him.
"Was me 'n Sunny against Bee 'n Sides. Not my idea. Got my aft kicked six ways t' Solisday, and that was before Ratchet tore into me in the med bay." Carefully, the youth readjusted his position on the bed to properly face his friends. "We've got another session with Wheeljack tomorrow."
"Yes."
"It's mandatory."
"Also yes."
"...Could you two tell Ironhide I'm sick while I hide here?"
"Yeah, no, you want to play hookie, you do it on your own."
"Pleeease, Rhea? Spence?"
Sensing an incoming plead, Springer promptly clapped a hand over his eyes. "Don't look, Arcee. He's been taking begging lessons from Bumblebee, I swear. Whatever you do, don't look!"
The girl rolled her eyes, and deliberately turned to see just what pitiful expression Hank tried to use on her. It was... potent, to say the least, but she resisted.
"I mean it, Roddy, if you want to skip out then it's going to be a solo mission." Groaning in equal parts pain and misery, Hank returned to his face-down position.
"Fiiiine."
When the next morning came along, though, the youth forced himself up with the others. He was still stiff and sore as the Pit, but argued with his inner whiney voice that it wasn't nearly as bad as the orn before and that he could muscle onwards. If nothing else, he'd last through Wheeljack's presentation, and then collapse.
As was apparently becoming the norm, though, Primus decided to throw something down from the heavens just to mess with Hank's plans. The six trainees were just starting the hike up the slope to the engineer's bunker when the building shuddered and starting spewing out smoke.
"Seriously?" Hank grumbled, before leading the others in a dash towards the bunker.
"Cliff, 'Path, the door!"
"On it!" Together, the cousins grabbed the side of the heavy metal door and heaved back, forcing it open barely wide enough for Hank, Blurr and Arcee to slip inside.
"Wheeljack! Perceptor!" Barely able to see through the acrid smoke, the trio had to feel their way through the maze of tables towards the rear rooms.
"Here," a soft voice coughed out, moments before Hank nearly stepped on the scientist lying on the floor. "Jack... Back shelves..."
"Blurr, go find him." Hank ordered as he and Arcee helped Perceptor sit up. "Are you alright? What happened?"
"Told him... Countless times... Organize..." The man wheezed out, dislodging some of the grey soot that covered him from head to toe.
"Can you drag him out of here?" As soon as Arcee nodded, Hank got her and the older scientist situated on their way to the door, then moved in the direction Blurr had headed.
"I can't find him, Hot Rod!" The teen called out from somewhere in the smoke cloud, which was getting thicker by the second - or at least it seemed that way to Hank.
"Keep looking- searching, whatever! He's probably somewhere close to the floor-" A cough overtook the rest of his words, and the trainee paused in his stumbling to stomp out a line of flames trying to climb up one of the tables.
"I've checked the floor, he's not here!" Blurr appeared again out of the smoke, a little more visible thanks to his albino coloring. Both of them tensed when a quiet groan reached their ears. Hank was the first one to look up, squinting towards the ceiling.
"On second thought, maybe the blast threw him upwards. Here, give me a boost." Blurr helped him find one of the remaining upright shelving units, which Hank started scrambling up like his life depended on it. Sure enough, his hand soon found clothed flesh rather than hard metal.
"Wheeljack, hey, you alive in there?" He checked as much of the engineer as he could feel, since the smoke was much more concentrated higher up.
"Mmmmaybe." The man slurred. "Mm thinkin' th' plastique f'r t'day's demo wassa lil' unstable..."
"Whatever you say, dude." Hank grunted, straining to haul the bigger man off of the shelf where he'd ended up without dropping him straight to the floor. The entire unit wobbled slightly, causing him to stiffen and panic. "Blurr, can you hold this thing steady?!"
"Trying!" The teen hollered back. Gritting his teeth, Hank pulled Wheeljack across one of his shoulders, keeping an iron grip on the engineer as he started to slowly climb down. He'd only made it a couple of shelves, though, when the unit finally gave way and began to tip over sideways.
"Oh FRAG-!" Yelling, Hank tried throwing himself and Wheeljack in a direction where they wouldn't be squashed flat, only to land of something that was definitely not the floor.
"Hey, the heroic rescues are our line of work, I'll have you know!" A familiar voice said from beside his ear. Coughing, Hank tried to peer through the smoke, catching glimpse of Hot Spot's face. "Street, Groove, get these guys out of here." More hands took hold of Hank's shoulders, guiding the trainee through a maze he could no longer see. Next thing he knew, Springer's concerned face was waiting for him at the bunker door.
"Bravery and stupidity, my friend." The Roamer informed him pointedly as he took charge of Hank, allowing Groove to switch to helping his brother carry the unconscious engineer. "You seriously do not know the difference."
"I'm not arguing." Hank said, before he was forced to focus on the pain of his body trying to cough out all the smoke he'd inhaled. Distantly, he picked up on Ratchet berating Wheeljack's prone form for endangering not only himself and Perceptor once again, but also the new trainees.
"Looking forward to being in the Hatchet's bay for the second time in as many orns?" Springer snickered even as Hank glared balefully at him. The two of them wound up sitting on a patch of grass a little ways apart from the bunker, able to see as Inferno and Hot Spot reemerged, declaring the fire to be out. Other Autobots were standing around the area to watch, though they quickly cleared a path for the stretchers taking Perceptor and Wheeljack to the medical bay. It was then that First Aid appeared in front of the two trainees.
"Can you walk, or do you need a stretcher too, Hot Rod?" She asked him.
"Ah, no, I'm fine. Just need someone to lean on, right Spring?" At the other youth's nod, Aid relaxed slightly.
"Good. Come on, then, I need to have you and the others back at the bay by the time my boss finishes with the tech-heads, or we'll all be in for it."
By the time their group made it to the Hatchet's domain, Hank was audibly wheezing. Arcee and Blurr, by contrast, were coughing a fair amount, but were able to still walk on their own. First Aid got each of them a soothing drink mixed with some sort of concoction to help ease the smoke damage, before Ratchet appeared again to do his own examination. Sadly (in Hank's opinion), his friends were deemed well enough to return to their rooms with a bottle each of the drink, while he was to be held in the bay for an orn of observation.
"I realize we're lacking a lot of the basic comforts around here," he muttered to Aid at one point as she brought him another dose of the medicine. "But these medical berths take 'uncomfortable' to a whole new level."
All he got was a sympathetic smile.
-HF-ST-
At some point in the night cycle, Hank was awoken by low voices in the bay.
"...can't believe you're making such a fuss over this."
"C'mon, Aid, I don't ask you for much, unlike my idiot brother. Just hold it for a little while longer, okay?"
"Fine. But you owe me, Samuel Kall!"
Confused, Hank blinked and turned his head in the direction the conversation was coming from. The first thing he spotted was Sunstreaker, perched on the end of a berth with something in his hands. Standing directly in front of him, illuminated by the dim lighting, was First Aid. The medic had her hands on her hips in a pose of annoyance, but she was smiling softly. It was then that Hank realized Sunny was drawing on a sketchpad. He watched the two of them for a while, the only sound being that of Sunstreaker's pencil scratching over the paper.
Eventually, the artist finished his drawing and held it up for inspection. From his angle, Hank was only able to see Aid's reaction: first awe, then bemusement, followed by fake annoyance.
"You're a total fraud of a portraitist, you know that?" She said dryly. "There's no way I'm this pretty." In answer, Sunny set the sketchpad on the berth behind him, then stood and pulled the girl into a deep kiss. Hank promptly shut his eyes and continued to pretend to be asleep.
-HF-ST-
"Nah. I don't believe it." Springer stated, returning to folding his laundry. Hank gaped at his friend.
"What? Why not?"
"C'mon, Roddy, one of the Valley's scariest warriors in a relationship with the only true pacifist here? Next you'll be saying Unicron is secretly a goddess of flowers in disguise." His retort was met by a wet sock flung in the youth's face.
"You think I could make something like that up?" Hank demanded.
"No, but I bet you could dream something like that up while sleeping in the med bay, dosed on who knows what drugs." Springer pointed out. He was forced to duck another sock.
"Just you wait," the other youth pointed sternly at him. "They're clearly being sneaky about it, but sooner or later you'll see some sign of it, and then-"
"Hot Rod!" Jumping in surprise, both of them turned to see Ironhide in the doorway of the laundry room. "Red Alert wants to speak to you in the security center."
"What about?" His question was met with a raised eyebrow.
"Why the frag should I know? That man does things the rest of us never understand - now git goin', y' can come git yer clothes later." Resisting the urge to sigh, Hank slammed the door on the dryer and headed off to where the base's half-insane Security Director apparently had something highly urgent to talk to him about.
When he got there, the real reason was so absurd Hank nearly fell over from shock.
"Y-you- they- what?!" Red Alert didn't even bother to look at him, continuing to gaze intently at the various screens and readouts set up on the wall around his desk.
"I said, I would appreciate it if you didn't go spreading rumors about my brother's relationship with First Aid." The man spoke in a mild tone, as if they were discussing something as harmless as the weather. "For all his faults, I am still responsible for Sunstreaker's safety, and I'd rather he wasn't killed by an enraged Ratchet - it's far too likely that will be what does Sideswipe in one of these orns."
Hank barely managed to nod his agreement.
"Good. It should also bear mentioning, that if Sunstreaker were to become aware you witnessed the softer side he presents around Aid, he will drag you onto the sparring mats and not stop until you become incapable of ever mentioning it to anyone again." With this statement, Red turned to look Hank full in the eyes, so that the young man could see how serious he was.
"Got it sir!" As soon as the undignified squeak was uttered, Red Alert motioned for him to leave, and Hank wasn't ashamed to say he bolted like a glitch-mouse. That evening, when Springer tried to bring up what had happened with the Security Director, his friend was only willing to say one thing:
"Every single officer in this place is slagging insane."