Aloha, my pretties!

I'm so glad of the amount of readers I've gained in the forced 8-month hiatus of Penumbra. Welcome, and I thank God for you all. :)

I've gotten a job interview this past week, with the BOSS of the business. Pretty nervous, but I think I hit off things well with him.

Enough about me, , by now, you are all acquainted with the Cybertronian terminology I use in this fic. If not….

Body Parts (all approximate, and the anatomical chart I use for my stories):

Hands = Servos
Arms = Support Servos
Legs = Stabilizing Servos
Tongue = Glossa
Teeth = Denta
Feet = Landing Pads
Shoulders and Knees = Shoulderplates and kneeplates, respectively
Eyes = Optics
Fingers = Digits
Hips = Pistons
Lips = Vocal Labi
Mouth = Vocal Receptor
Ears = Audio Receptor
Neck = Chassis Pillar
Torso/Chest = Chassis
Body = Frame/Shell
Skin = Protoplasm
Brain = Processor
Sections of brain = Lobes

Units of Time (all approximate, and the chronological chart I use for my stories):

Any time less than a second = Microklik
Second = Nanoklik
Minute = Klik
8.3 Minutes = Breem
Hour = Cycle
6 Hours = Joor
Day (both day and night) = Solar Cycle
Week = Decacycle
Month = Orbital Cycle
6 Months/Half a Stellar Cycle = Orn
Year = Stellar Cycle
83 Years = Vorn
Approx. 100 years = Megacycle

Cybertronian Units of Length (all approximate, and the metrical chart I use for my stories)

Klep – 1 Decimeter (0.10 m)
Kil – 1 Fathom (6 ft.)
Mechanometer – 1 Meter (m)
Megamile – 1 Decameter (10 m)
Kix – 1 Hectometer (100 m)
Microquad – 2 ½ Hectometers (250 m)
Hic – 1 Kilometer (1,000 m, or 4 microquads)
Vun – 1 knot (6086 ft.)
Solar Rek – 1 League (3 knots)

Hope this helps.

From now on, all Author's Notes, if any, will be at the bottom, after the chapter.

DISCLAIMER = Transformers: Animated belongs to Hasbro. But this plot is MINE.

Category: Personal Projects [CONFIDENTIAL]
Project: PENUMBRA
File Type: Personal Logs
Subjects: CONFIDENTIAL
Course of Study: DISTANT OBSERVATION and light EXPERIMENTATION
Reason(s): CONFIDENTIAL
Head of Project: Fisitron

Description: Please contact Head of Project for more information. Further information will not be disclosed within confines of file(s).

Entry #4 - Fisitron:

It's been a long, long while, but I rejoice, for I have time to write again. My spark is light but my processor is heavy.

So far, things have been amiable between Subjects Alpha and Beta. They are becoming more and more acquainted, solar cycle by solar cycle. The progress seems miniscule, but it's there.

The biggest of my concerns is the recent promotion of Subject Kappa. She now has a steady job, a new office, and the power to help the bots she feels needs the help.

If only she can place Alpha in that category. She still holds resentment towards him. This will greatly interfere with the friendship between Alpha and Beta.
According to Sigma, already she displays aggressive behavior towards him, and has made it disturbingly clear that she does not like him.

I know why.

Confession time: I do not know exactly what has happened between Alpha and Beta before Beta went away on her long trip, but I do know it was bad enough to make Alpha depressed and irritable. He tended to drown his sorrows in high-grade and lock himself away in his quarters.

Poor mech.

That, coupled with a few other things, probably sparked the accident in the Citadel.

But, back to Kappa.

I was there when she got her promotion. There are a whole bunch of bots invited to her promotion, and Alpha was one of them. I was one of them as well, but I digress.

What confuses me is how passive he was the whole time. You'd think after watching someone that hated your circuits be promoted in a position higher than you, you'd be worried about your wellbeing.
If he was worried, he hid it well.

Too well.

The terror didn't begin until two cycles after the ceremony.
Back at the Citadel, Sigma was there, standing guard as Alpha had one of the worse anxiety attacks I've ever seen.
For my fans who are not in the know, there are different kinds of anxiety attacks.

Most anxiety attacks can be really small ones, like feeling your spark getting tighter and simply imagining horrible things, to full-out attacks that can cause stasis. I know they're usually caused by a trigger, though the trigger could simply be a fear of something, since bots with anxiety disorders worry too much.

This particular attack was an obvious one, with Alpha curled in fetal position on a cleared table. The mech was murmuring, and his optics, normally smaller and lidded, were wide open in shock. He was rocking back and forth on his side, with Sigma standing over him, ready to get him whatever he needed.
Sigma had a cube of low-grade in his hand. The darker tint of the energon indicated he had added something to it. My best guess is, at least, a shot of placidium, a type of anesthetic.
He was trying to get Alpha to consume it, but only got a shaking bot pushing it away every time he tried to bring it to his vocal receptor.

And then Beta came.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, she hurried in and ask Sigma what happened. There was an exchange of words, and Sigma held up the cube with defeat. Beta tried to talk to Alpha, but he only curled himself in tighter.

So you know what Sigma and Beta did?

They sat there.
Just sat there.
Pulled up chairs, or a chair in Sigma's case.
Beta leapt up and sat on the table, carefully bringing Alpha's head into her lap and keeping it there. She patted him lightly and, alongside Sigma, just sat there. They both talked with him the whole time.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited for what seemed like joors.

Until finally Alpha hesitantly took the cube and, with some encouragement from Sigma, downed it in one go.
Beta clapped a little and seemed to cheer, holding out her servo to take the cube away to get it cleaned.

There was talking, a nod from Alpha, and, with a pat on the doorwing to Sigma and a bow to Beta, he goes about his business.

And how did I gather all this without being seen?

Confidential information, my friends.

Oh, here's Hunter again. She's reading this and making it painfully clear that should Alpha find out I'm documenting his breakdown and discover his alias, he will offline me.

Thanks a lot, Hunter.

The worse is over now, and we can move around again. But I still worry a little. If this is what happened when Kappa got her promotion, what will happen if she ever needs Alpha for something? Or if he needs her for something? Alpha's health is already a risky matter, since he really does not like medical checkups.

Well, he doesn't like the touching part of the whole ordeal.

Is that what worries him the most? That if Kappa would ever lay a servo on him, it would be to hurt him?

Because if that's the case, or he has another breakdown, I fear Beta will not be there to help him.

There is too much that is being kept secret, too much that doesn't feel right.

This requires more research, more looking into. I need to know more, and I will continue my studies as time goes by.

May Primus be with me, as with Alpha and Beta.

Signing out: Fisitron

Ponder This

or

A story of kindly leaders, foreign tongues, explaining things, eavesdropping, gathering information, a cameo from a familiar name, putting the pieces together, and a sad realization.

{Five solar cycles after the commencement of Chromia Magnus}

[Fortress Maximus]

Well, shit.

I have never seen the Fortress Maximus in more chaos than this. How much does instating a new Acting Magnus change, anyway?

"It takes solar cycles, even megacycles, to fully replace one bot with another", Ironfist told me when I asked.

Well, am I glad to be smaller than everyone else. I'm very good at not getting squished, so getting things done is just a matter of running.

Problem: even if I run today, I am going to fucking miss the bot I'm trying to get. I like Ultra Magnus enough not to be letting him down with something so small.
So I had roped Fizzy into helping me be on time. Just to walk me close enough to the newly risen Chromia Magnus. Her new office is in the heart of the Fortress, and I just need to get a parcel from her boss to her.

My excitement of meeting the lady is killed by the absolute insanity of bots running to and fro.

"Where is everyone even going? I mean, damn, I haven't heard of an attack anywhere, or shit like that."

Ironfist groans, but plants me down on his shoulderplate and prepares to 'swim' through the rabble.

"Brace yourself, Verity."

It's actually not too bad, once some bots see the fleshy organic perched on another bot's shoulderplate and veer to avoid both of us.

"Oh, shut up, I'm not infected with Cosmic Rust, you lot, now…..can I go through?"

"Fizzy, remember what I taught you-if you're going to be assertive, be assertive all the way through. Don't be assertive, then ask the favor politely. Bots step all over you for that."

"Verity, with all due respect, I have been taught to be polite. That it'll help me in the long run."

"Unless it's Skyfall. Then you're more rude than me."

I see his optics roll, and I can practically feel the groan coming, but we bump into another bot, and that groan comes out as a shrill, "Eep! Oh, Primus, I am so sorry! I didn't see you there!"

"Heh, don't worry about it. I'm big and tall for my bodytype. I won't throw you into prison for it."

The voice is a tougher, older tone, but unmistakably feminine.

"Oh, Chromia Magnus! Hello!"

I look up and I see her at ground level, up close, for the first time. The infamous Chromia Magnus, tall and blue like the Detriot sky at 8am, with these angled metal plates on the sides of her head. And blue lips; vocal labi, the Cybertronians referred to them as. And wide shoulders, and strong legs, and metallic hands with long fingers. And scars. Everywhere. There was even a thin one on her chin.

She looks good for an alien several Earth centuries old.

"And this is Verity Carlo of Earth, Chromia Magnus, ma'am. Scribe to Ultra Magnus, and an Ambassador for Technologic-Organic Inter-species Relations. Contrary to popular belief, she is not contaminated, nor does she spew corrosive acid."

Her blazing blue eyes glance over to me, moving around in their sockets, studying me. Unlike Sentinel, with disgust, or like some scientists, with morbid curiosity, the female Magnus studies me with unabashed curiosity.

She reminds me of Athena, the Greek goddess of war, knowledge, and medicine. The power in the way she stands, even if at ease, and the regality of her frame. I've heard of her fearlessness and strength on a battlefield, and I doubt she'd even be a Magnus if she wasn't smart.

A tilt of her head to the left, and her mouth opens, revealing silver-white dental plates and a gray-green tongue of sorts.
"An ambassador, hmm? You look young, around my apprentice's age in Cybertronian equivalent. How long have you been on Cybertron, Verity Carlo?"

"Almost two stellar cycles, Chromia Magnus, ma'am. And if you don't mind, just Verity. No need for my last name."

"Just Verity. Okay. Then just call me Chromia, or Mia. None of that ma'am slag, and that goes for you too, Ironfist. I like you, Verity. And you're not exactly a stranger to me, weaponsmith."

His eyes widen and he retracts his usual mask. "Afx zo nju thrre feh kybbn suvna kei Scientius qwn, huc afxg." ("I was under the impression you hated scientists, like me.")

Wait, what?

Chromia seems to understand, good-naturedly replying, "Afx uop klm feh, feh gduv tyr vhb. Cth crs, koon sefg vubuir xez." ("I trust you, you and some others. Believe me, I don't hate you guys.")

The orange-and-teal engineer locks gazes with his Magnus. In a deadly serious tone, he retorts, "Thrre yidd uopl Percy nekkkwoq bh-" ("Percy is not your enemy and you should-")

"-LGNV." ("DON'T" or "STOP") This once-warm femme suddenly growls, and the iciest glare I've seen from her so far is directed at Fizzy.

The look he throws back at his Acting Magnus is a look he has only given one other bot: Skyfall. He hates that jerk with his entire being.

The fuck just happened? Much as I hate being left in the dark, the fact that they used another freaking language is enough for to know I'm not part of the conversation.

But I don't want these two friends to hate each other's circuits, and, thank God or Primus or whoever up there, I have the perfect distraction.

"Chromia Magnus, ma'am, we are on official military business!" Both bots, surprised by just how loud I could be, turn and stare, but I just roll my eyes.

"Basically, your Bossbot wanted me to give you this." I hold up the data slug Ultra Magnus tasked me with delivering. It's about 14 centimeters wide by 20 centimeters long, and chrome-colored with an Autobot symbol. It feels large and clunky in my hands, but it's tiny and delicate in the servo that reaches for it.

Slowly, she takes it from me, and coolly nods her head. "Thanks, Verity."

"He believes in you, you know", I blurt as she stores the data slug in a...subspace, I think it's called. "I gave him some report of how your coronation-commencement-whatever the frag you call it went, and he knows about some of the older bots giving you slag about being an Acting Magnus. I'm sorry about that, I am. Ultra Magnus tells me you're gonna do great, and you'd be one of the best if you didn't drink so much."

Any tension from her earlier spat with Fizzy melts away, and she laughs and shakes her head.

"That's not going to happen. And Ironfist of Vos, have you been teaching her Cybertronian curse words?"

This lady is frickin' insane, I swear.

"No!", he yelps, though indignantly, and not out of fear. "She learned those herself!"

"So did I", the Acting Magnus replies, tucking her digits into one servo and extending the fist to me. She holds it within my reach, and I bump my own little fleshy fist against it.

"So you've learned a fist bump, too?"

"Nah. We've got the same thing on Earth. We do fist bumps with people we like."

"Heh. Smart femme. I knew I liked you, Verity. Now, I have some important slag to get to, as well as seeing what's in this slug, so you both should leave before some organic-phobe starts a riot. Bye for now."

She turns around and strides away. On the way, she leapfrogs over another bot, much to the bot's immediate displeasure. The last we hear and see is a carefree chuckle and a swing of her hips down another hallway a few meters away.

Or would that be kilometers?

Being human is hard on this planet.

Being human is fucking hard, period.

We exit Fortress Maximus, and Ironfist takes me off his shoulderplate and places me down.

"Chromia is awesome."

"Unless she's angry."

"She ain't angry all the time. No one can be angry all the time. Not even Decepticons can be angry all the time."

"I'm sure there's one who is."

He transforms into his alt-mode, and waits for me to hop in before driving off.

"So, where to now? Your shift with Ultra Magnus is over, so is there anyplace else you'd like to go?"

"Just back to your workshop, if you don't have somewhere to be. I've got questions for you."

"Well, I'm headed to the Guild, but you might as well ask me now. Just talk; I'll drive."

"Okay. You know you can go faster, right? I thought there wasn't a frickin' speed limit on these roads. Meh. Now, I know I heard 'Percy' in your foreign language rabble with 'Mia, and-WHOA!"

Fizzy screeches to a stop, his tires grinding on the blacktop surface of the planet. I've been smart enough to strap myself in, but it still hurts a little when the seatbelt tightens momentarily against my boobs.

"Hey, what gives?"

"I don't know what they teach you on Earth, but here on Cybertron, it's rude to listen in on conversations."

I roll my eyes for, what, the third time now?
"Let me explain to you a thing:

One, your conversation will definitely be more fucking interesting and attract more attention if a) you speak it in another fragging language, and b) you mention someone that others know the nicknames of.

Two, I could tell you were angry at Chromia. For what? She isn't Skyfall. She isn't taking credit for your hard work, nor does she give you a hard time every time you're actually working.

And Three, I've known you for about two stellar cycles. Am I normally fucking polite? Especially on a planet where bots still have problems with organics? No."

Ironfist doesn't answer.

So I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Dude, I'm not a patient human. Do something. Say something. I think we're holding up traffic. Oh, no, we're not. Still. Fuck, Ironfist. Do something say something.

"Chromia hates Perceptor for some odd reason. I can't figure out why."

"Seriously? And she won't tell anyone why?"

"I think someone knows why. Someone. Just don't know who. It's something that's been on my processor for a while now. Maybe she's just worried about Perceptor getting too close to Moonracer. She probably won't admit it out loud, but she's real protective of her apprentice. The way Wheeljack is around me."

"Are we almost there? Oh, yeah, we are. I kept forgetting that you're running. Let me explain to you another thing.
One, not that I fucking hate your mentor or anything, but Wheeljack doesn't protect you very well from Skyfall if the Aussie-speaking jerk still gives you shit."

"S-shit?"

"Slag. And two, it's not like the microscope is fucking dating the femme. He probably never met her before she started working at the Guild Scientius. Has he ever found a girl, or been in love before? He doesn't seem like the type to give up science just for a relationship."

We come up to the place, and I hop out and run to the giant silver doors and the red orb in the middle.

And I wait.

And wait.

"Fizzy? Fi-zzy. IRONFIST!"

I yell to the motionless alt-mode, and after a minute, he abruptly transforms back into bot mode.

"Sorry, Verity. I was thinking. Got a little lost."

"Of what?"

The mask is back on. If he's not talking now, he doesn't want me to know.

"Fine, be like that. I could help you, you know."

"It's a long, LONG story. And an incomplete one. And…..messed up, to put it lightly."

"A mighty dark plot, hmmm?"

He nods. "A mighty dark and complicated one."

Dark grey, large fingers open up the red orb, punch in the right codes, and pick me off the ground as the doors of the Science Guild open with a resounding hiss.
From my perch in the palm of his right servo, I feel like a bird, flying through the Guild, seeing some of the 'prototypes' and models of various vehicles in the shelves. Some of this 'antique' stuff is well advanced by human standards, but I don't get to fully admire any of it.

Until Ironfist skids to a halt.

"Verity, shh. No question, just shh. I hear something."

He goes up against a wall, and transfers me to his other hand and holds me up closer. I crawl to the tips of his digits and lean in to the source of the sound.

I am so grateful that I'm wearing shorts.

"…..Forgive me if you will, Moonracer. You were not here, but approximately two stellar cycles ago, we found a mole within the Autobot faction: the Decepticon Shockwave, disguised as an Intel bot, one Longarm Prime. Ever since, many Autobots that worked with him are 'on edge'….including myself, regrettably."

Ironfist's mask suddenly slides open, simultaneously revealing his look of shock and surprise, and nearly giving us away. I shoot him a 'what the fuck?' look, and he shoots back an irritated 'Don't judge me!' look. We go back to being eavesdropping little fuckers, the weaponsmith quietly sliding his mask back into place.

"Don't worry about it, Perceptor."

Then the dialogue is replaced with sounds of little dainty science tools clanking, and being picked up, and being used, and the scrape of Cybertronian plating against a metal table. "And, of course, you were there during the explosion in the east wing of the Guild Scientius. I….."

"What, what is it? You know you can tell me."

"...I am frustrated at myself, frankly. I should've forseen most, if not all, of these occurrences. How did I allow myself to believe everything would be safe and protected? Even now, despite how patient and kind you've been to me, I find myself hesitant to trust you, as well as many bots."

"You trust Wheeljack, yes?"

"He's helped me through many things."

"That's a first."

"What is?"

"You being vague."

"Hmmm. I suppose nothing escapes the optic of a sharpshooter."

"Don't be so sure. I'm still a little clumsy. I can make errors, and I am wrong at times."

"Then that makes two of us, Moonracer. We have one more attribute in common."

"It's not a unique trait. Other bots can, and are, wrong at times."

"You're one of the few I've heard admit it. Which I find appealing."

"You like that I'm honest?"

"I like that you can admit when you are in error. And your honesty? Why, yes. I do."

"….Thank you."

Then there's the sound of heavy footfalls. And a high-pitched scraping sound, followed by some swearing.

"JaAmed thing. Ah, Percy. Moonie. I see you two are getting along."

"Moonracer is proving to be a very fast learner, and of great assistance. No ill will towards you, Wheeljack. You are still valuable to the Guild Scientius."

"None taken, Perce."

"It's almost as if you've worked with me before", the scientist says.
I lean out just enough to see Moonracer and Wheeljack look at each other, with the mint-green femme wincing and the big guy looking downcast.

They fucking know something Ironfist and I don't. Suspicion, suspicion.

After a minute, the awkward looks go away, and while Wheeljack carts away this large box he's carrying, Moonie looks back at Percy.

I can call him Percy in my head; why the fuck not?

He looks back up at her, and his prodding at something with a scalpel stops.

The two bots seem suspended in time, just calmly staring at each other, but even at this distance I can tell there's…..something ….there.
The suspension is broken by her smiling at him, and his slightly embarrassed look before returning to his work.

I crawl out of sight and whisper to Ironfist, "RUN."

Making his footfalls as light as he can, he clutches me safely in his servo and sprints out of there, not stopping until we've reached the safety of his rebuilt workshop at the Guild.

The doors open. Close. We pause, Ironfist calming down while I catch my breath.

Then one shared exhale.

"I KNOW I did not imagine that", Fizzy exclaims, gently putting me down as he scrambles to find a datapad.

"Percy with expressions? The way he admitted to Moonie that he liked her honesty? The look they shared?" I look around the worktable I'm standing on for my black hoodie. "I think somebot lied their aft off about this whole thing. The whole 'Percy-got-his-feelings-deleted' shit. I don't believe a fragging word of it."

The weaponsmaker stops his scrambling, turning on his datapad.
"Verity….let me explain to you a thing. My mentor trusts me. He told me all he knows-"

"-And we found out that he had been hiding a few facts about Percy's accident for, what, centuries? Or megacycles, in your case."

"Only because…..because…well, it's not like the public knows he had memories lost. That isn't gonna help the image of the Guild Scientius; that we couldn't retrieve simple memories of our smartest bot."

I find my hoodie and yank it on. "Or maybe someone didn't want him to remember."

We look at the each other, the same thought echoing in our heads.

"The Metallurgist."

Ironfist begins touching away at his datapad while I try to find my red, metal-plated gloves and boots.

"You think the Metallurgist did something to Percy the solar cycle of the accident? I mean, did something to the machine he was hooked up to? Could be possible. If the microscope was in stasis the whole time, the Metallurgist could've snuck in or something, tampered with the device, then ran away before anyone knew what had happened."

"Not possible. You know that every place here can only be accessed, at least by Cybertronians, by a card or code. The machine was in Percy's personal labs. Everybot that's anybot here has one. Only Percy can access his own labs."

He stops clicking away at his datapad.

"Unless the Metallurgist is strong enough to break down doors. But very few bots, Autobot and Decepticon, can do that. Break down these doors, I mean. They're made out of duranium.
Besides, when Wheeljack found out about Percy, he had to break down the door. He had been there the whole time. Perceptor's personal labs don't have any windows, as far as I know.
I don't know. This is all confusing. Anyway, what do we know?"

"About this whole clusterfuck? Let's see. About a thousand years ago, Percy and Moonie fought over something, Moonie left, Percy got so depressed he made a thing meant to take away his emotive processes, and it ended up taking both emotions and several memories. Wheeljack hid the part about the memories for a while, probably fucking up a lot of things and confusing the shit out of a lot of bots. A thousand years pass.

Then Chromia and her team comes back, Moonie comes back to the Guild, confronts Percy and finds out he has no idea who she is. He tosses her out, Chromia gets all Mama Bear and threatens to fuck him up, Wheeljack steps in with the truth, and Chromia gets all snarly at the giant nerd for no good reason-"

"-Auuugh! That's what frustrates me! Chromia is part of this….whatever this is, and more than being Moonie's overprotective mentor. I FEEL it."

"I know it, and I believe you, dude. Maybe…"

"…What?"

Unable to find what I'm looking for, I pad over to him with my bare feet. "We can ask her, right? We can ask her what she knows."

"Verity, even if she did know something, she wouldn't outright tell us."

"That would ruin her good reputation and standing as Acting Magnus, now wouldn't it? Besides, I know what some of the bots call her. Chromia the Honest. If she has even a silver of fucking integrity, she wouldn't lie."

"Just because she isn't known for lying doesn't mean she's incapable of it."

"I like her. Even if you don't, you fucking respect her like me. Tell me; what matters the most? Percy's safety, 'Mia's honesty, or the truth?"

"They all matter."

"Which is why we need all three, in full. Look, you obviously can't interrogate a bot to save your life-"

His optics shoot me a look to kill. "You're vvvvery lucky I like you-"

"-and I don't want to grill the femme. We're both on her good side-"

"-You're on her good side. I'm working to ensure she doesn't plug a bullet in my processor."

"-The solar cycle that happens is the solar cycle Percy fucking joins the Wreckers."

Ironfist's glare is replaced by an excitable shine. "That would be cool. If he joined the Wreckers. Dangerous, but awesome. The Wreckers are awesome…"

"Aaaand this is the part where you start rambling on and on about them and shit, and how great they are even though they have to change their oil like you, and go to boring medical checkups like you do, and all the normal shit other bots have to go through. They're not invincible. I know several have died."

"Well, not to worry. I doubt Percy would easily enlist. And besides, they're still running, but very inactive. Not too much action these solar cycles, but only because they take orbital cycles to check and scout recruits. Yes, Percy wouldn't so easily give up science just to go on adventures, however amazing they are. And you'd have to know how to fight, and shoot a gun, sometimes make one. Tough stuff like that. I don't think he even knows how to wield a gun."

He turns and sighs at one of the posters around his private workspace. This one displays, against a spangled background, a mech with bulky shoulders, his armor a deep olive green color. The color is lighter where I assume the protoform shows through his armor. This bot wields two rapier-looking blades, with one perched on his shoulderpad.
Springer, I think Fizzy called this one once.

The Wreckers. The red shirts of the Autobots. Poor suicidal bastards, the lot of them. I don't know how many have died, but I can say that despite how powerful they look, I can't take seriously a group with no fucking females. I have heard of no ladies in the Wreckers so far.

Unless they're all gay. Really butch gays.

That's….well, fuck. A species that sends their gays to be the suicide squad, to fight then die for some cause? That's just….fucked up. And that bullshit gets old fast. I can only imagine the amount of social justice groups on Earth that would jump on this shit like lions.

"If you're thinking of ways to sneak into Chromia Magnus' office to hold her hostage so she'll answer your questions, drop it."

You know you're losing it when you're thinking about whether or not robots can be gay, instead of how to get a femme 150 times your size to be truthful to you.

I look up at him, feeling my mouth curl in irritation. "Was not. Promise. And that's fucking stupid. Plus, though she may not talk to you, perhaps she'll talk to me."

"Ironfist!"

The Jersey accent, the casual baritone, and the heavy knock on the door indicate Wheeljack.

"You in there?"

I look up at Ironfist and sigh. "Dude, we're fragged. He fucking knows we were eavesdropping on the scientist and the sharpshooter."

"Relax, relax. I highly doubt that." To the bot behind the door, he responds, "Yes, Wheeljack! Um, you are Wheeljack, right?"

He doesn't even fucking recognize his own mentor?

Oh, wait. I can't believe I fucking forgot.

The attack on Ironfist's workshop. The one that got him hospitalized, the one that brought him to within a centimeter of losing his life. Of course he's more cautious as to who goes into his workshop. Percy, head of the fucking Ministry of Science, can't even set a foot inside without Fizzy present.
The only reason I didn't know about until about a fucking week later was because some bots felt to best to hide it from me.

"Hmmm, I dunno. What's our answer when anybot asks what's the difference between science and screwing around?"

A gasp of relief. "Writing it down! It is you!"

Fucking scientists. Make me feel dumber than usual, why don't you? First a foreign language, now nerd jokes?

The door hisses open, and Wheeljack's head slinks in, followed by the rest of his body. "Well, hiya, my hardworking engineer. And hiya to you too, Verity."

Well, it's not like I'm actually mad at either of them.

I really like Wheeljack, just the same as I like Chromia. He's like an Italian from New York, but with more metal and less yelling. Unless there's a fucking explosion. Intelligent, easy-going, rolls-with-the-punches sort. He wears a mask like Fizzy. Has a sense of humor, even when in pieces.
And he's the benign Godfather of the Guild Scientius, taking care and looking over every bot in the Ministry of Science. Even the assholes.

I fist-bump him. "Ey. How's it going? And what brings you here?"

"Well, Ironfist, I'm wondering if you have my little storage disk."

Fizzy goes to the poster of Springer and gently pulls it down. It's on a frame, and behind the poster is a safe. But instead of the little handheld dial, there's a codepad. He's about to open it up, but then he almost glares over at Wheeljack and I.

"What, dude?"

"Turn around, please. Both of you. No peeking. Because I know you can read Autobot numerals, Verity."

"Are you fucking serious?"

The only answer I get is an actual glare.

"Oi, fine."

The white engineer and I glance at each other, roll our eyes, and look away. But while Fizzy does what he's doing, the taller bot whispers to me.

"You can read Autobot Cybertronian?"

"Just barely. I can understand it, but speaking and reading it's a little harder. I learn by ear-eh, audio receptor. That's how I've learned to speak Spanish."

"Span-ish?"

"A language on Earth."

"Got it, Wheeljack!"

In Ironfist's hand there's a clear, turquoise-blue data slug-looking thing, the same color as my tank top. There's a symbol on it, white with dark blue outlines, but I don't recognize it. It's wider, and flatter, and reminds me of a bunch of maybe 30 or 35 playing cards stacked together. If those playing cards were the size of billboards.

"Oh, good! Thank you, Ironfist."

"No problem. What's in it, if I may ask?"

The older inventor falls quiet. "…Confidential, Ironfist. Just between Percy and I."

Although he has the mask, I see the tiny stab of hurt in Fizzy's optics. "Oh. That's alright, then. He asked you not to tell?"

Wheeljack walks over and lays a fatherly hand on one of his shoulder joints. "He is my partner, Ironfist. I don't like losing the trust of my fellow scientists. When you have a partner, you'll understand."

"I understand already. It's good as energon. Promise. Then again, I don't really know. Don't have too many mates, y'know?"

"I don't know personally, but Percy would. He's…..never had a whole lot of friends, either. I hope that can change. That both you and him find someone to trust, even more than me."

There is a strange glittering in the old bot's eyes, in the way he looks down and how his optics droop. He hangs his shoulderplates, then straightens up and bids good-bye to Fizzy and I.
Is that what sadness looks like for Cybertronians?

Poor guy.

Am I ever going to meet another bot without skeletons in the closet? Without a history of hurt? Without a mighty dark plot?
Because Ironfist can't be the only one.

He can't be.

Author's Notes (WARNING: Overload of information up ahead):

-Verity lives in the 22nd century, the same time Transformers: Animated is set in. For me, I think all nations on Earth have successfully converted to the Metric system near the end of the 21st century. Hence why she refers to measurements in her own mind as 'centimeters' and 'kilometers', instead of 'inches' or 'miles'.
She hasn't yet grasped terms for Cybertronian units of length or time, though she gets equivalents pretty well.

-I estimate that, at the time of the events in this chapter, that Verity has been on Cybertron for about two years. She probably arrived a little after Optimus and his own team returned to Cybertron. How exactly she got there and what she was originally doing may come up, either in another chapter, or I may write a spin-off story that ties into Penumbra, but isn't necessarily relevant to the Percy/Moonie plot. I'd like to hear some thoughts on this.

Mostly on how I'm writing Verity. I'm worried that she's becoming like Miko Nakadai (who I do like, but a lot of fans don't), or worse, becoming a Mary Sue. Granted, she's only been in two chapters so far, but I want to stay as truthful to her Last Stand of the Wreckers personality as possible, while making her a necessary part of my story.

-The language Chromia Magnus and Ironfist spoke to each other with is an invention of mine. Odess'lum, the native language of Odessyx, a robotic unclaimed/neutral world in the Autobot Commonwealth of the Galaxy, is a language that is spoken by maybe 20% of Autobots alive.
(Autobot Commonwealth is the actual name of Autobot territories I got from the Allspark Almanac II. I got one for myself on my birthday. :)

Odess'lum used to be spoken by all Cybertronians, back then Cybertron was a slave planet to Quintessons. Since Quintessons didn't learn languages phonetically, like Cybertronians, the slaves would use the language to communicate to each other when they didn't want their masters to overhear.

After Beta Magnus liberated Cybertron from the Quintessons, use of the language began to dwindle, and is now spoken by bots who either learned from their creators before the Great War of the Factions, or taught themselves via recordings and rare datafiles.

The 'Lum' part of the language's name came from one of my teachers in middle school, who was Mr. Lum. He was my social studies and history teacher, but also from China and was one of my good friends back then.

-Some folks will wonder how does Verity survive on an alien planet of giant bots that don't require oxygen. This was also a question pondered when the Transformers: Animated episode 'This Is Why I Hate Machines' aired, when Fanzone ended up on Cybertron.

The bots don't need the oxygen, but their fires do. Jets, ships, even smelting fires in factories all require oxygen to ignite the fuel and function. I conclude that, though there isn't as much oxygen on Cybertron as there is on Earth, the gravity keeping the bots from floating into space is the same thing keeping a fresh supply of oxygen on the robotic planet.

And, as of this writing, Verity is the only organic on Cybertron. She doesn't need as much fresh air as, say, the country of Mexico.

-And the Wreckers! Aw, yiss. We get a glimpse of Ironfist's fanboying about these BAMF's, and, rest assured, they will be a part of the story.
Soon. Eventually. You'll like it when I finish this thing.

If ever.

Sigh.

Reviews, suggestions, complaints. I appreciate all of it, but not as much as I appreciate all who follow this story.

That means you. :)

~Ylysha