Battle Cry
A/N: Hello everyone.
First things first: I recently saw AoE (and then again) and Jesus Christ, I think it was my favorite so far. It sincerely ditched the annoying aspects of the first three movies and focused more on the machines, the Autobots, and goodness I just loved it to pieces. If you haven't seen it and love a pissed off team of Autobots, family bonds, and did I mention the Autobots? I would highly suggest you do. It prompted a new idea in shaping this story, and I can't wait to share it with you.
Not, to say that any of it will show up now. In fact, we've got a lot of story to get through. For specification, this is a prequel to DotM. The adventure that takes place in this novel will lead up to the events of the third Bayfilm and probably will follow the story line pretty closely when we get there, on.
Finally; I changed the name of the story. Don't freak out. Unfortunately, Heartlines just wasn't cutting it for me anymore. I will change the cover photo when I get a chance to work on Photoshop, but for now, just ignore that and know that Heartlines is now now, and forever will be, named Battle Cry.
Yes. After the Imagine Dragons song. For TF4.
That is all!
P.S. 'Cons are the reason for error, don't blame me.
CHAPTER 6. SPECIES
[the following morning: 0500 hours]
Skylar awoke from sleep with a start, eyes fluttering open until her lashes touched skin. Her pupils were dark as olives, spread open wide. It took a moment of steady breathing to soothe what felt like her restless soul. Soon enough her muddled mind crossed away the discomfort of her dreams that had settled somewhere deep within her chest. Then, she was unsure of her beating heart in the aftermath of what she had thought of while she slept, and decided to let it go. For, if it wasn't enough to scar her with the memory, it couldn't have been that bad a dream after all, could it?
She had a pretty decent idea of what it was about to begin with, but she wouldn't dwell on it.
Rolling onto her side, her nose wrinkled at the crisp scent of clean linen and a dusty room. She was accustomed to the pungent smell of military bunking quarters, but today wafted of extra bleach and mildly dirty socks. Fortunately she roomed with the women, who though were hearty soldiers through and through (and cared very little of sweat, blood or dirt) they followed the rules of hygiene a bit better than the opposite sex did in these kinds of situations. There had been a time when Skylar was deployed overseas where she was forced to share a small room with a tiny operational team of 15 men, and 4 women.
She hoped to never experience anything like that again, or her nose might not be able to take it.
Using very little energy to shift, she was in a sitting position and stretching to relieve the knots in her back. Her shoulder popped loud enough she worried that someone would wake to the noise.
Alas, no one did.
The bottom bunk was normally comfortable to her. And from this, she was confused. What had changed about where she slept to create such tension?
But then she was reminded of the cool feeling of glass on her face as she dozed in the leather upholstery, the gentle hum of a vehicle beneath her serene body, and the somewhat decent day she had off base. She got flashes of colors from her miniature adventure - blue, from the stretching sky that carried on for miles as they sped away from the center of Nevada, white, from the porch and pillars in front of the Lennox's house, and yellow - her babysitting companion, Bee, who though she had began the day quite awkward with, had ended it with a pat on his hood in thanks as Joey helped the drowsy Rosette find her bunkers.
She faintly remembered going through security at the checkpoint a few miles out upon return about midnight.
She could recall even less of crawling into bed.
At least, it would explain her wrinkled clothing from the night before.
Once her vision adjusted in the dark of the room, she realized it must have been very early morning. Her first guess was 5, as the sun was no where in sight, stars still shown out the countless windows, and she may have cheated; her watch told her as much. The tiny little green numbers read 5:01 while around her, other women slept soundlessly. Her bunk-mate (a dark skinned, tall, southern woman named Heather) was kind. She had let Skylar choose if she wanted top or bottom bunk upon first arrival, though, seeing that Heather had already claimed top, the newbie wouldn't take it away from her.
Skylar desired to get more sleep, but mentally scolded herself. She had slept for long enough, and didn't want to throw off her pattern.
Standing tall, grabbing her bag full of secrets (and thankfully, new clothing) from where she had slid it under the bunk the night before, Ms. Rosette made her way from the sleeping chambers to the hallway as quietly as possible. She shut the door gently behind her, and, once outside, Skylar trod the corridor like a mouse. Her goal was to slip past everyone who slept without disruption. Therefore, she hurried towards the nestle called her lab to freshen up, let Maxwell out of his crate, and change for the day.
It took all of 10 minutes, and what prolonged her was a small detour, where she stalked almost silently through the Autobot's dimmed and quiet hanger. Her hands had tucked away into her jacket, burying themselves deep there. It was cold, decently strange for the normal heat of the base in Nevada, and her fingertips didn't like the change. Scuffing towards the back entrance of the room, she could have sworn she saw the yellow Chevy's lights blink bright blue once. But there wasn't enough time between when she shuffled the sleep from her eyes and opened them to tell. So, she gently pat the hood of the Cybertronian either way like she had done just a few hours previous, and dismissed herself from the hanger.
At 7 o'clock, she exited her space, ready for her day and a coffee in her hand. Ratchet had let her know an hour or so earlier prior that her lesson would begin with studying the model of Transformers, and would consist of that until her time to sleep. She was allowed to get food first and prepare what she needed to prepare, mentally or with materials. So, she had dressed herself in a lightweight, black undershirt with tiny straps that showed of the constellation of freckles on her pale shoulders. The little spots followed a path down to her wrists. A pair of matching dark working jeans tucked underneath her tan construction boots, laced up and tied away. In her left hand, was a notebook, ready to be defiled. In her right, her drink.
And as always, on her back, was her trusty backpack. It rattled with different tools and sketches she would run past the her leaders later for alteration or completion.
Her journey led to the cafeteria hanger of their base, or, as Lennox had told her they'd renamed homepoint - the Hole. The Autobots had searched the internet when a young soldier had joked around about the Nevada base, and didn't take too calmly to the myths of Area 51 and what it entailed for them. Skylar believed that might have something to do with the aura of alien dissection and torture that most science fiction literature and movies branded upon the government sanctum simply created for hoarding alien hoax archives.
So: it was renamed and all tall tale stories were explained.
After the dispatch of Diego Garcia by Director Galloway during Optimus Prime's time offline, Skylar joined the team during the Great Move after Operation Firestorm. N.E.S.T. was in search of a new, easily accessible complex that could hide their technology and satellites, their soldiers who sped in and out every day for more or less purposes of Decepticon ass-kicking, and most importantly, the large, Cybertronians that were held under secret protection acts set in motion.
The smell of the regular, bland food graced her nose, and she stepped into the hanger. It was peppered with soldiers and commanders here and there like ants in a jar. Some gazed at her curious, some smiled and some were reproachful as she grabbed a plate of rice and an apple from the bar and made her solo way towards a table. She wasn't sure of the scrutiny yet, but she knew it had something to do with the fact she had gone from the new Private, who everyone expected to bend under the ropes and pressure as most newbies did, to the main Specialist on human and Cybertronian Weaponry duty, with her own hanger and privileges not granted to others.
She understood the envy or distaste that followed - she would have felt the same if she was in their shoes.
Someone approached.
"You clean up nice, Army Brat." Joey began with a pep in his step, jet black hair matted with sweat and sleep. He bore a white t-shirt and army cargo pants, with more pockets than she could count. Judging by the way he grabbed crackers from the front left as they sat at a bench, each was probably full of food he would try to sneak into training later. As always. It hadn't taken her long to note that despite his clean cut army anatomy with muscles and a hardened structure, that he ate more than a prepubescent teenager. "Yet - you'd better wear a tighter shirt, or it'll be too modest for work."
"I'd close your mouth, you'll get bugs."
"You're not as funny as you think you are, Rosette. Remember that." He snorted once. Still playfully, he rolled his eyes away to another soldier who sat across from them without saying a word. Skylar, as she began to nibble at her rice, was observant and noticed the deep shade of red that tinted Corporal Santa's neck and face as he spoke freely at his friend - something about that match on TV last night. There was a kind squint to his eye that was given only to the other soldier, and a flirtatious vibe that Mr. Joey didn't even notice he was letting go.
It prompted her instant smirk just a little, eyes diving down to her plate.
Truthfully, she hadn't spent much alone time with Gabriel since the first time she had met him during Bumblebee and Sideswipe's race on her first day. But by the way Joey spoke about him all the time, he seemed he was a real, true soldier and was dedicated to the N.E.S.T. cause. He always followed the rules given by Lennox, or any army official, that is, never spoke back to authority, or showed many emotions besides determination and integrity when it came to the hard stuff.
Except when Joey was around.
After it had clicked in Skylar's brain that Joey's face lit up a little brighter when her friend was in the room, how he stuttered over his words and tried to not blush so hard, or how he always joked with just Gabriel until they were blue in the face and walking to do something together on their own, it was easy enough for her to put two and two together (almost literally).
That: even if they weren't together, there was something there, at least, in Joey's eyes, if not Gabriel's.
She would never voice what she knew. It wasn't her place to scuff in someone else's business like that, and unfortunately, even if she did, it would not end well in the eyes of others. Her sister was engaged to a woman, and Skylar knew second-hand the ridicule that sat in suit if Joey's secret was to get out and around base. Despite her positive opinion on homosexuality, or bisexuality, or whatever Joey was - others rarely shared that thought.
"So, Big Britches, how was your day off with Bumblebee?" Speaking of the devil, he nudged her, bringing her back from her darkening thoughts. She blinked at his question, unsure how to answer. "Getting used to the idea of everything yet?"
Swallowing down the food in her mouth, she scratch at her nose thoughtfully before finding the right answer.
"Yesterday was hardly a day off; I was simply sent away to deliver a love note to my commanding officer's wife and find new clothing since mine was starting to wear and tear from constant use. As for getting used to everything - I have gotten mixed signals from every solider, including the Autobots, besides the two of you and probably Bumblebee whenever I've entered the room. I've been here about a full week and I've known about the existence of aliens for a few days. I will admit I was freaked out, or, well - I mean, I still am." She shrugged her shoulders once. "Well, I mean - at least I'm getting paid."
"Come on," Joey laughed once, kicking her shin gently with the toe of his boot, "you can't tell me you're not excited to play with them."
"Gross, man." Gabriel stated at his sick innuendo, wrinkling his nose at the same time that two familiar Chevy Boxes raced into the hanger, side by side. A few soldiers were forced to dive out of the way, or fear getting crushed underneath the speeding cars' wheels. Breakfast trays went flying left and right, some rice hitting the walls. There was a screech of tires and the trio eyed them suspiciously. But they did not bother them. Ergo, they continued with their conversation like nothing was going on.
"I'm just saying; I only get to shoot with them. You get to make the gun."
As Skylar finished the rest of her coffee in one swig, she pondered how she felt - something she had yet to truly do for herself. She was doing what she loved, more than anyone could ever understand, and with the government's permission all the same. She had no secrets; no more were the nights of drawing on blue paper in white crayon and hoping for something that could never happen - the worry that her one of her only talents would lay waste without ever being tapped to full potential. She had all and everything she would need to make cannons and swords and jets and snipers and amplifiers and heat rays - whatever her mind could come up with, she had that technology.
Not to mention, she had made new friends, both human and not (for this, she thought of Bee), and was getting paid very nicely for her work.
She even had dental.
Her excitement radiated from her eyes, but she kept a cool composure upon response.
"I'm ready to do my job no matter my emotions, if they be positive or negative."
"God, you're so serious all the time." Said Joey, pushing her shoulder once like a small child throwing a tantrum.
"'Aint she 'doe?" Cried out Mudflap considerably loud, enough, that it caught the attention of almost everyone in the dining hall. He and his brother transformed right before her eyes when the speeding cars came to a halt, going from alternate mode, to bipedal with a few shifts of gears, limbs and then - they were taller than her comfort zone, hovering like giants in a small eating room. Skylar's stomach dropped when the clicking and whirling of the Autobot sizzled through her to the very bone. It was forcing an upset in her stomach she couldn't help but still get. She was getting there; at least she wasn't cringing away in terror.
"Lighten up, ShortShit, or we'll make you." Threatened Skids, with a toothy grin.
"I," Said the Weapon's Specialist with a light, confident tone, despite the shudder of her teeth, "could very well make you lighter too. When I scrape the metal off your back and sell it on Ebay under the 'useless junk' tab, that is."
Joey whistled.
"Oh, so she got some sass on 'er, don't she?" Skids stated incredulously, leaning in so close to Skylar, that she could see the detailed plating on his face, and the gold marks in his tooth. Tiny signatures wove their way in - but he moved a little and they were gone. Ignoring what she thought she saw, Skylar was more than proud of herself when she didn't back away, or even change her expression at the proximity. In fact, though her heart was a bit elevated and beating rapidly in her chest, she was more calm than she was a few moments before, and . . . joking with the red and green Autobots.
From this, Joey and Gabriel saw. They didn't comment - a mutual understanding that she was getting increasingly better about everything as the days went on.
"She do, broth'a, she do. We should jus' -"
Mudflap began to give an instruction to his twin, perhaps, to joke and play with the small human girl that would test her speed and agility, but to his sudden, instant distress, he was grabbed on the neck by a larger, firmer yellow hand. Bumblebee caused him to yelp in surprise, as well as Skids, when the same action was given to the duplicated 'Bot. There was the sound of metal hitting metal, and a whirl of hydraulics.
"Leave the girl alone! - bunch of crazy - asshats - got no taste." Bumblebee's radio scolded the Twins, earning himself a dark red glaze across Skylar's cheeks. She was more than capable of standing up for herself, especially when it came to the Dummy Duo who had given her nothing but a humorous hard time since their reveal. However, Bumblebee was as close to a friend as they came when it came to the Autobots and herself, and she would be lying if she didn't think his attempt at saving her from the two brother 'Bots wasn't kindhearted. She gave the Scout Autobot a small smile in thanks, and he whirled again in content, neon blue optics blinking excitedly.
"Ahh - Bumblebee to the res-cue, Babe." Mudflap groaned, hand still squeezing his neck. "D'at's our moment to leave before we en'up knockin' heads. Again."
Like that, they squirmed away from the mighty grasp on their backs regardless of how Bee tried to keep a grip on them, reversed their previous motion of bipedal to alternate, and took off like bullets. Their tires screeched across the ground enough to cause marks. On the way, they nearly hit Gabriel, who had stood to go get more food to throw down before training. His astonished face and saucer eyes brought Joey a snicker he tried his best to muffle into his palm.
Skylar, who had looked away for a moment to watch the spectacle, was now more paying attention to the Camaro that sat in front of her. He was humming in idle, until the passenger door open for her. When she didn't move, still munching on the end of her rice, Bumblebee's radio started up: "Get in."
"I wouldn't argue." Joey murmured in her ear, serious this time. She didn't need to be told twice; standing, trusting that Joey would throw away the rest of her meal she didn't finish, she snatched her notebook and hesitantly took a seat inside of the Autobot's cabin. Once she had both of her feet in, the door snapped shut, and a seat belt came out to protect her from face planting into the dashboard. This, of course, was solely in result to his high-pitched squeal that rocketed inside and outside of his alternate mode. Then, he too kicked up the horsepower and mirroring the Devil Twins, exploded out of the cafeteria hanger, slipping towards hers.
She barely had a second to catch her breath.
"Received an incoming message from - Optimus," The radio dial shifted, changing frequencies, "'Bumblebee; Ratchet, Ironhide and myself have left with Captain Lennox and a team of N.E.S.T. soldiers to -"
Whatever it was they were gone to do, seemed to be classified to her knowledge, as Bee was forced to screw up that part of the transmission on her behalf. She didn't complain or feel unsettled by it; with war, there were things she need not know. She did remember that Lennox spoke of leaving for a week the day before. She knew it had to be something important.
" - therefore relay this message back to Specialist Rosette; a notice from Ratchet. Unfortunately today, it was clear you and my Medical Officer had plans to learn you in the ways of our bio-structure to further help you further understand the nature of our anatomy before beginning design. Since we are no longer at your dispense, we will leave you with notes in your lab, and Bumblebee, who will help explain what he can. Upon our return, we may begin work, so study well, Little Skylar."
"Oh." She spoke blandly as they came, watching as they closed in on the large garage door that would very soon open to reveal her lab space. "Fantastic. I . . . guess that means you're my substitute teacher today, Buddy."
"Down, Max!" Skylar cried as soon as the dog lunged from the crate without warning. Her hands tangled out, latching onto her German Shepherd by the collar. Yanking him back until he was forced into a sitting position on his hind legs, it didn't dawn on the human Weapons Specialist that where she had met the Autobots and was slowly attuning to them and their species, her faithful attack dog had yet to see a Cybertronian. Let alone have it enter the hanger and transform from a car to a large, towering beast in front of his eyes.
His reaction did not seem to perturb Bumblebee; in fact, the Scout calmly stood at the door and waited for whatever chain of event would follow the squirming, yelping dog targeting him.
He had dealt with Samuel's small rodent on a daily basis when he still spent his time at the Witwicky home, guarding and protecting his friend. But now he was back to full-time Scout 'Bot with Optimus and the Team (consisting of the Autobots and N.E.S.T. soldiers ranging from the tiny, fleshly human in front of him, to the bulking bodies of high end Government officials). Though he truly missed his human ward, being a part of the battle to hunt down the layered Decepticons, and training again to be able to take them down, purred the spark of the Cybertronian. He was ready to prove himself further to this world, and those who remained from the last.
He reflected, while Skylar struggled.
"I said -" Maxwell continued to yelp and mush in her tiresome grasp, teeth barred at her new friend like he was the enemy, "come on, I don't have time for -"
The animal was relentless.
Quickly, Ms. Rosette was ready to break out something she hadn't done in a while, only to end the fiasco:
"Oi, Max! Lehnen! Bleiben! Retreat! Sofort!"
"German?" Bumblebee wondered aloud, translating her commands over the World Wide Web instantaneously - Oi, Max! Sit! Stay! Retreat! Right away!
The girl (watching suspiciously as her dog collapsed onto his belly near his crate, ears perked up high, awaiting another command), nodded once and brushed off her hands on her jacket. Her rough, but feminine fingers were now covered in dog fur that scuffed off in the confrontation. She stalked to her desk with an ache in her wrists, and since Bumblebee decided that the animal was no longer going to try to rip his joints apart, carefully followed suit, feet as gentle on the concrete floor as possible. The dog grumbled, but did not take action when Bumblebee knelt on a knee beside Ms. Rosette.
"He was trained with German commands for his K9 Unit before my father got control over him. They served together for a few years, and when he was passed to me, I had to learn the basics too in order to keep him in line. You see, where he half listens to me in English, in German, his commands are non-negotiable."
She could hear Bumblebee humming thoughtfully in recognition for what she was saying, as she sifted her fingers through paperwork lined up on her table in a neat stack. A frown sketched on her mouth, for no where on here seemed to be notes given to her by the Autobot leaders. She was a patient person, but was feeling this to be slowly more irksome by the second to turn up empty handed. She lifted a large, vanilla folder full of medical work and -
"What the . . . hell is this?"
"I believe that to be - your notes." Bumblebee peered over her shoulder, optics locking onto the device in her fingertips instantly. She donned the 'tablet' that was becoming widely popular with the current upgrades of the world. By her reaction, it was not hers - completely transparent, and foreign, so he could see her thumbprints pressed underneath. He scanned it just in case there was something more to it, and discovered it's functions in a nanosecond.
"This is a piece of glass." She spoke blandly, not understanding.
"Try - tappin' it, yo!" He replied.
So she did.
Miraculously, the center of the screen lit up under her appendage. The N.E.S.T. insignia glowed neon blue in her face to the point of her forceful squinting. Bumblebee watched the human femme intently, seeing the minuscule icon flutter away and reveal a readable PDF. A genuine smile broke on her features, her elation with the tech in her hands clear in the glitter in her eyes and her rest against her desk, practically breathless. The document shown on her tablet translated from characters she couldn't understand, to complete, perfect English for her to expand and intake upon disposal. Gently, she tapped a word, and watched a rectangular bubble form from the highlighted speech. It allowed her several different options, like 'define', 'save', 'create', or 'pronounce'.
There was a home button too, which, she would press when the PDF was engraved in her mind. After all, it did have her name on it - in the top, right corner.
CLASSIFIED - OVERRIDE - ACCESS TO: ROSETTE, L. SKYLAR
"Sweet." She murmured to just herself, almost as if she had forgotten she was alone. But then there was a clank of metal grinding on metal behind her, and the thought of her heat in the moment squawking at the machine in her grabby hands wounded her cheeks into a rose colored painting. Placing it on her desk gentle as a feather, Skylar turned on her heels, boots squeaking at the action. She locked gazes with the towering Autobot, who leaned back a bit when he realized how close to the girl he had gotten to see her actions.
She seemed to not mind terribly - at least, she did not leer away like she did with the twins. She was not vibrating like she did with unspoken discomfort.
"Let's get started, shall we?"
He nodded his head up and down once, finding himself squatting onto his hind. Like had done last time they had been alone, he switched and scanned through the many radio stations across the globe streaming until he found one that had something she had classified as 'good music' in the confidence of their drive. He took note that her musical preference mirrored that of Sam. This band - the Linkin Park so many enjoyed - was favorable enough.
Impressed that he remembered, she plopped down in her chair gently, tucking her legs underneath her as she gazed back at the tablet.
A small notification had arose.
[ Specialist Skylar, I apologize for my leave when I promised today we would begin. But a war does not wait for lessons. I have quickly processed as much about our anatomy as possible into an easily readable file for you to browse upon until memorized. It is severely important you understand how we function to alter or intricate any weapon creation in the near or distant future. If any other questions arise, ask Bumblebee, or mechanic Sebastian Yin, who when he began working alongside N.E.S.T., received the same information you are indulging in now. Do not let other brief this. Fair reading - Ratchet. ]
"Vocabulary, huh?" Bumblebee's vocal processors clicked in response. "You don't have anywhere else you need to be?" His head shook left then right, a no. "Alright, I can dig it."
She clicked the screen once, and like she did in college, began her studies.
Most of it was indeed easy enough to understand - they had a decently similar bio-structure to a human being. That was a calming thought, and lifted some weight from her discomfort by a lot. They had limbs, a head, torso, appendages, internal functions, the works of it all. On the other hand, they worked a bit differently than she would have expected. For an example, she found it interesting that their eyes were known as optics, and had glass for protection, versus mucous like her species to keep the eyeball moist. She too had an optic, but it was hanging from her sniper, and helped her target the enemy.
Not, she realized, so unlike them.
Transformers had joints, rotatory cups like humans, but chassis' for their secondary modes. They had spines and ribs - just a furiously stronger version. Some, closer to all, of their weapons were a part of them - like Bumblebee's 'Stingers', which he showed her up close when she inquired. They were small blades embedded in his metal, the width of her forearm. He could activate and deactivate them. But, he told her not to touch, especially during battle mode, as they produced electricity to 'sting' the enemy that would send her flying on her back. He used plasma cannons as his go-to weapon as well, layered on what would be a human's wrist.
She read a side note on the difference and similarities in Autobot and Decepticon structures, and the other Cybertronian species that sometimes had more than two arms, or two legs, perhaps more than one head. They had audio, scent and audial senors that allowed for speech, smell and hearing. Unless damaged, like the Autobot beside her who found himself passing the Earth time by starting a child-like staring war with the pet Skylar kept in a sitting position by his smaller cage. He told her through the radio that only a 'regenerating - plasma blast!' could overtime cure his loss of vocals.
To feel, they had a magnitude of senor nodes stationed throughout the form, in both bipedal and alternate.
"So . . . Cybertronians can use the five senses like humans?" She summarized the last 15 pages of models and intense vocabulary. A blue pen cap clamped beneath her teeth, Skylar was taking intense notes on her pad of paper as well, her sprawling script tumbling out in abbreviations and ink blotches. She found rewriting what she already knew or had in front of her helped further her memorization.
Bumblebee, who had curiously been streaming the internet to learn more about what made human groups like the Linkin Parks so popular, answered her with a blink of his eyes.
"Indeed." He replied. "We - are also capable of that there - combatant - processing and - have an internal - communication! - link."
Skylar was naturally almost as curious as the Bot - the only problem was that she was trained not to be. 99% of the time, she was instantly able to ignore the nag in her thoughts that everyone had. Some things she need not know.
But right now? She had permission to ask the important or strange questions, to investigate the Autobot so she could understand what was right, what was wrong, what was important about their structure. How they tick, what hurts, what moves. Can they withstand this? Can they feel that? With that frame of mind, she stood tall from the spinning chair, and (despite the growl in her dog's chest or the way Bumblebee sat back a bit from shock at her move towards him) she approached the yellow Autobot. He watched her quietly, only the hum of his spark making noise, as she placed a hand on the curve of metal that would be known as his knee.
"You can feel this?"
"Y-yes." He struggled out - and not with the radio. His vocal processors skipped like a record machine.
It was true, what he said. The senor nodes in his form focused on her touch as small as it was, all five fingers, splayed across him. The warmth of a human hand was strange, something he had felt many a time, especially with all the living and transporting he dealt with for the Witwicky's and N.E.S.T., and it still never changed his surprise. Perhaps it was because he had been accustomed to Cybertronian metal for so long, that human skin was soft and delicate in response. Another reason he continuously called the solider before him a squishy weakling despite her angry protest - Ratchet and 'Hide were right, of course.
They were simply a . . . fleshy species.
Yet, there was something kind and gentle in her grasp. It's what made her human. And he didn't mind how very out of character it felt, especially from the closed off soldier Skylar he had met from day one who had only blinked away from him or tried to stay at least 3 feet apart if possible. In fact, it was that action of acceptance and tiny touches on him that made his optics squint in comfort, glowing vibrantly.
He could have sighed.
This simple human touch made him feel content.
"Was that your real voice?" She wondered quietly under her breath, breaking a bit of silence. She had yet to move her hand away until then, but when she did, the ghost of her palm stayed hot on his armor. He nodded as the feeling sizzled away, and pretended to clear his throat before attempting to speak again.
"V-voc-cal process-ers d-d-amaged, but," His body gave a high-pitched moan, "u-usable s-still -"
"Don't hurt yourself, Bee." Skylar scolded him, a sharp look to her eyes that quieted him instantly. It was a look not to be trifled with - and she knew it, he knew it, everyone knew it. Even muscled and strained soldier Lennox had winced away from her furious gaze. Her mother liked to tell her a look like that could cut through steel, and at Bumblebee's shift, she was sure it probably pierced him in some way. The soft human Skylar Lillian was gone once again, and a strong human Weaponry Specialist Skylar Rosette had returned. She grabbed her tablet back from the table, and settled in the chair, goosebumps raising on her arms. "Ratchet would kill you."
"Your observation of - us - is admirable." He admitted to her, rubbing the back of his helm in an awkward manor. He seemed to be very alright with sharing things with the little femme. He was a hopeful 'Bot - and desired her friendship. He was honest as well. He found a lot about her to be quite admirable: her battle tactic, intelligence, pride. Her red nose when she had her ego wounded, or a surge of discomfort that dusted her freckles in red. She glanced up from under her lashes, that same pink dusting her nose and cheeks at his compliment. He didn't see it for very long; he was too busy staring at the pipes that ran along the ceiling a dozen yards above them that he barely got a glimpse.
The human species was weird to his kind. Many saw them as pests, easily breakable, monumentally diverse. Always making mistakes. He saw them differently than even some of his teammates, except, for maybe Optimus, who always seemed to agree with his view that humans were special. They were capable of greatness, just like this Skylar. And he was not proclaiming he desire for the girl in any way, but out of many, she was a sure leader for the pretty he had seen.
"The Autobots are interesting." She murmured more to herself than her new friend, flickering further through the PDF to find more information on his kind. The next portion was labeled 'HUMAN VS. CYBERTRONIAN INTERFACING'. She was already intrigued. "Though, I will tell ya' - I was really afraid of you guys at first," He whirled his voice in response, "you're not that bad at all."
"I believe - you had a mental breakdown!" He replied, a laughter audio track rumbling through his speakers. She split a smile, thinking about what she had believed. Dead, she had asked? Dying?
No, she knew now. This was all very, very real.
"I have a question." Bumblebee waited while she finished reading something. "Is it interfacing, or Spark-Bonding?"
Bumblebee made a choking noise. His optics trailed open wide.
"Repeat - fleshling?"
"Well," She explained calmly, facing the glass at him. He scanned it quickly, taking in the same data she had, "here it says you interface, but here you Spark-Bond."
"Is there much of - a difference, lil' lady?" He inquired of her troubles, mentally asking himself why the Pit he was the one who had to try and explain this act to her. He remembered very clearly Samuel and his parents continuously attempting to speak about the human interfacing - sexual intercourse, as it is called on Earth - and how to be 'safe', he believed was their terminology. His ward had always gone red in the face, completely horrified, as most of these conversation had Mikaela Banes in presence.
But Skylar did not appear unsettled.
"Well, I mean, sure." She shrugged a shoulder. "Put it in Earth terms, it's having sex, or making love for, like, ever, isn't it?"
He began to twiddle his thumbs. If he was a human, he would be doing the squishy blushing act.
"Spark-Bonding - is like, totally - marriage! - in Earth terms." He corrected her slowly, battle mask coming down. As if to hide his face from her. Bumblebee peaked out from underneath as he continued, noticing she was hardly paying attention to reaction, and more her notes. Maybe, if she was inquiring for no reason, she would have been a bit less bold. But he noted this was for her personal knowledge. "One an-and only p-p-partner."
"I wish humans were that committed." She gave him a serious glance at his attempt to speak again, which he would not try for a third time. Her eyes screamed that she would dismantle him piece by piece, and he liked his bumpers where they were. She briefly thought of her past relationships, knowing very well that she had 'interfaced' with them, and none stuck around long enough to 'spark-bond'.
"I am guardian to - Samuel Witwicky," She glanced up at that name, "and he - lost his girl - now he - found another?" He reflected on Carly. She was a nice girl, but she was quite different than Ms. Banes. His friendship with Mikaela seemed to had ended when she ended her relationship with Samuel. They had been very in love, or so it had seemed. But after Operation Firestorm, the female left her pet, Wheelie and his ward's clothes on his front door.
"Humans don't Spark-Bond." She stated simply, beginning a section on energon, mech fluid and energy signatures. "Who knows what would happen if we did."
There was comfortable silence while she continued to read. Hours passed, she grabbed more questions. Back and forth. Bumblebee watched her from a far, for he had stood to look around her hanger. Many of the things Ironhide found joy in were found in this room - he wondered why he and Ms. Rosette didn't get along better than they did. Then again, two positive magnets don't stick.
As the time neared 10 o'clock in the evening, did she finally place the tablet down and rub her eyes. She looked more than tired now, dark circles beginning to shine under her eyes black, yellow and purple. Bumblebee clicked and whirled his voice, scanning her and her bodily functions in concern. Her exhaustion was much more prominent than it had been an hour ago, and he had been worrying then. Now, he knew he had to take charge.
He neared her.
"I believe it is - time for you to retire, girlfran'!" His radios muttered at her.
She only nodded, agreeing, placing her forehead on the table. He was shocked to find she almost immediately went into stasis, curling up in the chair. Her baby snores hardly made noise.
A few moments passed by them, where he watched her sleep with wide optics, unsure what to do. Soon enough, he decided she would hurt her spine in that position. He came to her aid, leaning forward to scoop the human into his arms.
She slept soundlessly between his metal palms as he carried her to the sleeping bunkers.