Notes/ Okay I spent most of the other day writing something I had thought would be chapter four. Lots of action, decent length, plot development. I planned to go to work, then come home, edit and post… until I realized while on my coffee break, that the chapter didn't fit at this time. I knew I had basically written a lead up to the darn ending, instead of something that could lead where I want first. It just bugged me until I decided to write an entirely new chapter for now, and to save the old one, to be reworked a bit for later in the story.
I am fully intent on sending the 'bots back to Earth for the reunion with the kids. That should happen in within a couple chapters. I'm amazed at the reviews from readers who clearly liked the idea and wanted to see it. Thanks a ton for the feedback on that. I keep writing because I know people are still liking this. Reviews make me happy, lol.
Slight warning here; this chapter will contain some drunken behavior, and also some discussion of mental health related stuff. Neither is overly offensive, but I'm throwing a warning out there just in case.
The common room of the Autobot base, had always been a place to work, a place of productivity and organization. It housed the ground bridge controls, a couple of large work stations, monitors, keyboards, comm links, and so much else needed in command and planning. But the room was just as much a place to unwind and sit down to socialize. There were places to sit reading data pads, and a shelving unit full of them now. Someone at one point had installed a modified version of a video gaming system common on Earth, and so often in their off duty hours a couple of them would play with it. There was a sound system for music, a projector for holographic images. Every one of the base's six separate passage ways had been constructed leading right of the common room, like spokes extending out from a wheel. It only made sense during their off duty hours as well as on, most of the 'bots tended to occupy the common room.
One evening most of them sat planning their reunion trip, back to Earth. It was fast approaching, and there was a general sense and feeling of excitement around the base. Arcee sat on the floor, in front of a data pad shelf, flipping through her pad filled with photo-files again.
"You've got to show these to the kids when we get back," she said, laughing.
"Let me see, let me see," Bulkhead called from his place across the room. He was on a bench with his huge feet propped up on the edge of a computer work table. Arcee got up to give him the pad. Bumblebee joined Bulk' on the bench so that he could look too.
"Hmm" bulkhead commented, when he came upon a picture of himself with Miko on his shoulder on the first page. "It's true what they say. The camera really does add ten tons."
"Nah, Bulk'" Bumblebee answered. He laughed loudly as he elbowed his teammate in his huge shoulder panel. "It's the human. She just makes you look fat."
Bulkhead looked at the picture again, a grin on his green face plates. "It'll be great to see her again. You must miss Raf too."
'Bee grinned back. "I've been practicing at that video game. I think I can beat him by now! I still hear from him once in a while though. Just the other day the kid actually sent me a text message in Cybertronian."
"Woah. Kid really kept up with learning then, after Ratchet started teaching him."
"They are still working on it. First human to pick ours as a second language…. Well third. Spanish is second. Err… forth. I think he's also learning Japanese from Miko."
Wheeljack had recently manufactured some high grade energon, and he brought a good amount of it with him that evening when he wandered in from somewhere inside the base. Bulkhead was quick to accept some, Arcee and Smokescreen with only slightly more hesitation. Bumblebee was finally convinced to try it, though he never had before, after he'd made it clear that only a small amount would be quite enough.
"I have no idea what you did to this stuff," Arcee commented, shaking her head after she took a drink. "But I swear to Primus, too much of this and we'll be flat on the floor." She made a face, and then took another drink.
"Haha," Bulkhead said. "Just like old times back in the wrecker days. A job well done and we'd all down some of the strongest high grade Cybertron had ever seen."
Knockout appeared in the doorway, leading away from the hallway that housed his living quarters. With some hesitation he made his way into the common room to join the group. He'd begun to join in more during his off time. He took a seat closest to the doorway.
"Hey Bulk. Bulk, remember that crazy night back behind Iacon?" Wheeljack laughed loudly as he recalled antics of days gone by. "Four of us, standing around out back, behind the place, casually tossing that old grenade casing around, calm as anything."
"That old commander hit the deck fast, that's for sure." Bulkhead continued the story, hands on his knees laughing. "Probably didn't help that you had yelled about how it was going to blow, and no one could remember how to dispose of one."
"Right, right! But just who was that certain green painted scrapper, who yelled 'catch' as you threw it right to him. It never was entirely clear if he was going to lose his fuel tanks, or shoot us all for that!" Every one of the rest of them laughed, most of them so hard that their optics leaked coolant fluid.
"I used to wish I could have been a wrecker," Smokescreen said. "Your crew got so much done, saw so much action. Of course it was no more by the time I joined up with the Autobot ranks. Elite guard was interesting though. Learned a lot for sure. Trouble is, it's just far too much structure, too much discipline."
"Which can be good too…" Bulkhead said, as he tried to hand one of the little drinking containers to Knockout.
The medic only waved a hand in front of him and then shook his head firmly. "No, no. I try to never touch the stuff."
"So stop trying," Arcee giggled at him, grinning. She had been hesitant to drink at first but admittedly she was having fun. It had been so long since she had sat and laughed with friends over drinks, that she could not remember when it had actually been.
"I'm serious," Knockout said. "High grade can make one entirely unsteady, clumsy, and lacking in good judgment. Not a wise state for one in the medical field I should think."
Wheeljack sat laughing for a second. "Oh come on. I'm not sure being stone sober is truly a requirement. Bulk', you remember that medic back when we started out. Pretty little thing, oh but what was her name now? She could drink with the best of us on a good night. So one night, you and me, out helping her do felid repairs so she could haul wounded into the bay, her half as wasted as us. Some young bot had nearly gotten his scrappin' foot blown off…"
"Now please explain to me how that situation is in the least bit funny," Knockout demanded. He put on a look of arrogant pride, and his tone said that such a thing was far beneath him. He was smiling though and stifling his own laughter. That in turn made the rest laugh again, and he laughed with them. He accepted the drink that Bulkhead was still trying to hand him.
"Hey, anyone remember this one?" Bumblebee questioned. He was referring again to the photo files, as he held the pad up with one hand. Miko had taught Smokescreen the old human trick of holding up two fingers behind someone else's head in a photo, and sure enough he had done that very thing to Bulkhead. That photo got a few more good chuckles from the group.
"Can I see that?" Knockout asked, curious.
Bulkhead shrugged. "Sure. Mostly it's a bunch of pictures from Earth. Most of 'em are pretty funny."
Any one of the 'bots might have wanted to run the pad over to him at the far side of the room, but they all knew full well by then that he would only wave a hand at them refusing to be helped. Since the attack on the building site, they had seen his great and surprising determination and sometimes frustrating level of stubbornness. He'd wanted to be able to walk, and then to stand for longer at one time, and he'd taken on the challenge of making his body do it, with the undying refusal to fail of any Autobot. It had been sixteen days now since the construction site mess, and there only a slight drag with the left foot. It did make him look a bit like he was constantly at risk of falling, but that had not actually happened since day nine. He grabbed the pad from Bulkhead and went to sit again. A couple of them grinned. He was getting quicker, less unsteady.
"I've got a story for you," Arcee said to the team. "Hardly one to match the wreckers, but… So me and Cliffjumper, on Earth maybe one Earth month, out on patrol around the base, trolling for energon signatures, looking out for 'con fliers. Same scrap new pile, yeah. Well of course they come out of nowhere. Must've thought they would sneak in, bump us both us off before we know what hit us. So Cliff goes right for his blasters, I leap over the overpass guard railing. He needs cover. I make some decent, now hidden back up… It's Jasper Nevada. Small town, middle of the day. People are gonna ask questions, take pictures or worse, get killed. We transform back to vehicle form, drive off across the desert. Let them chase us, try to lure them away from Jas…"
She was distracted from her tale, by the sudden crash of Bulkhead, smashing clumsily into a book shelf as he got up to refill drinking containers. She shook her head and laughed it off, unsure whether he had actually had too much, or was just being typical clumsy Bulkhead. He walked away from the now slightly unstable shelf though and went about refilling just fine.
"The photo files are interesting," Knockout said. He handed the data pad to Arcee, who occupied the seat closest to his. He looked down for a few long seconds before saying quietly, and with clear regret. "I never really got to know a human. I just thought once that they were fun to torment…"
"Regrets is never any use at all," Wheeljack spoke up suddenly. "Neither is guilt over the past. I'll only eat you alive if you let it."
He obviously meant to make a good and helpful point, but it was also clear when he spoke that he had had far too much to drink.
"See that's your problem I would think. Guilt. Regret." He pointed right at Knockout as he talked. "You prob'ly felt it too before you defected. This is not new. It can't be. And you hid that shame of self-hate for years behind a pretty paintjob!"
"Wheeljack!" Arcee snapped. "Entirely uncalled for."
Knockout was staring at the floor, with a look of utter shock and even near terror. He was usually eloquent when he felt like conversing with the group, but now he was silent. His mouth moving mutely as though he was searching for a snappy comeback that just never came.
"What?'' The wrecker said. He threw both hands up in the air to express himself. "I'm just sayin'. He's obviously conflicted. Or was. The guilt destroyed him, and one can't just expose themselves as destroyed, broken. So protect the finish and the paint, and hope it can hide the wreckage of whatever's within."
"I think you've gone too far," Bulkhead stated in low tones. So little concerned him, and clearly he was concerned now. He grabbed his old friend's arm, almost a little too roughly, and tried hard to make him stop his rambling on.
"What do you say?" The white wrecker gestured to the 'con defector. "It's a self-esteem issue. Gotta be. We need to teach our new friend here, how to fight like we did back in the good old days. Now that's what he needs. What do you think, Knockout? We've all seen you get in some pretty creative moves, and you've got some talent for scaring the frag out of someone, sure enough. But can you really throw a punch? Do you know how to shoot? Anything decent in battle?"
"Wheeljack!" Arcee snapped again. "Look. You probably mean well. I see that. But please knock it off."
"I… I don't know… I can't… I never…" Knockout had found his voice again, but clearly he was forcing it to work through a strange kind of rapidly growing panic. Arcee moved to sit closer to him on the bench he occupied. She felt like clearly someone needed to protect him, or at least help, and she wasn't sure exactly how. She felt her own uncertainly creeping in, as she wondered with dread just how badly this could go.
Knockout was relatively heavily armed, and Arcee knew that he still possessed his integrated weapons. There had been talk when he had first defected, of deactivating his weapons systems. There was no debate that his were particularly terrifying, even for a 'con. But it had been decided almost as fast, that that would have been wrong to force that on him, while still trying to gain his trust in them. Arcee now found herself staring from him to Wheeljack, who still stared at him drunkenly taunting him, and wondered with growing horror, if Knockout would perceive himself as cornered and actually dare to pull out a buzz saw blade on his new teammate. A power drill would be nearly as bad.
She slowly moved to put an arm around him, ready to help him to his feet and make a fast retreat with him. He had not pulled a weapon of any kind once on the day he'd been brought back badly injured, and she decided that was a good sign now. He'd been in a full on panic for a while then, and if he hadn't done it in that situation, she had to trust that he probably never would.
Bumblebee leapt suddenly from his seat nearby, and without warning he shoved a clenched fist into Wheeljack's faceplates. The wrecker fell backwards over the bench he had been sitting on. His drinking container spilled all over the place. Close to both of them, Bulkhead only gasped in shock, while Smokescreen looked horrified. "'Bee," Arcee cried, Jumping up at once. She'd been worried about Knockout attacking. It would never have occurred to her to worry about 'Bee, of all bots. "What in the name of Primus are you doing?"
"Loud mouth, know it all," 'Bee snapped, before he ran out toward the outer doors, without looking back.
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Bumblebee roared away from the Autobot base in vehicle form, reaching near top speed in seconds. He left the smooth, wide road well designed for vehicle modes, and his tires bumped along the rough uneven ground to the right of it. He had no idea where he was going. Nor did he care exactly. He was just angry – filled with a sudden and growing sense of rage and he didn't know exactly why.
He had felt it for longer than he would admit, even to himself, and he didn't understand it. He was not an angry sort of bot, prone to falling victim to his own temper. Generally, among the team, it would have been Bulkhead that might have let anger get the best of him. Perhaps Arcee, to an extent. But they would never hit a teammate. 'Bee knew he'd crossed the line, but the feeling that still consumed him in his rage, was that he still didn't exactly care.
He picked up speed, pushing himself harder to drive faster. He turned his mirrors down, and didn't bother with anything behind him. He was barely looking in front of him for that matter. His front view, which sat low to the ground behind his headlights, was blurring with coolant and washer fluid spilling from his now hidden optics, tucked way inside the car from. He tried to force himself to stop that at once. Screamed at himself silently, that it only made him pathetic He pushed his speed even further, channeling his energy into driving instead of crying his optics out, but it didn't help anything.
The world was still a mostly quiet place. Small groups of refugees had returned, and he knew there was a chance he might run into someone, but it was so unlikely on a huge planet with a low population. He knew he should be careful of his driving, just in case, but he couldn't find the will power to slow down, or to look at where he was actually going. His comm bleeped from the front of his dashboard console. He ignored it. He swore under his intakes and drove on, moving further from the designated road.
The comm bleep again, as he swore at the thing in rage. A voice on the comm unit spoke urgently, "'Bee. Please come in. Where are you? We just want to know if you are alright…" He deactivated the thing instead of answering, and he didn't feel like listening to it either. He mumbled a loud and most obnoxious string of Earth's strongest language, just because as it was, swearing felt somehow liberating.
He screamed out loud at no one. He felt like punching a wall. He wanted to scream at the top of his voice. He felt and near overwhelming urge to curl up somewhere and cry for some reason he didn't know and he only directly his own rage at himself for wishing he could do that. He was in the warrior class now. Graduated months before, and even before then he would never have allowed himself to do any such thing. He spun a few tight circles, squealing his tires loudly, and pushing his engine hard, before driving forward again, even faster.
He was heading toward the edge of the flatland, out toward a place where the ground dropped off into steep jagged cliffs, cut into the land, over the sulfur field below. He knew where he was, but all the same it barely registered. In his furious mind, all he knew was a need to keep on driving. To keep on retreating from the feeling of upset that he could not and wouldn't dare to analyze.
The little sport car's tires left the ground, first at the front and then quickly the back end followed. He understood then in a moment of sudden clarity that he had driving right off the edge without noticing the approaching drop. He spun his wheels but it did no good. There was no grip to be found beneath any one of them.
He was thrown from his vehicle mode roughly, and he tried flipping to face the other direction, trying to find a handhold. It wasn't working. He felt his left hand graze the side of something solid, but there was no way to reach and grab a hold fast enough. Within his processor he was vaguely aware that his emergency beacon had triggered. His rage was all but forgotten, as he reached again for a hold, nearly found one and slipped. He felt his body bouche hard off some unknown surface then go into a terrible rolling motion, down a bad incline of the slope. His head smacked hard off something or other. He felt one more hard bounce, and it all went to blackness.
Scene Break Scene Break Scene Break Scene Break Scene Break Scene Break
Arcee drove fast toward the well of the Allspark. She truthfully had no idea where she was going, no clue where to check first. But she was following a hunch. If she could have shaking her head in disbelief in her motorcycle form, she would have been doing it all the way put there. She asked herself out loud there was no one around to hear her question, if when she did find Bumblebee, she should hug him and reach out to talk with him, smack him for his insanity. This was, she reminded herself in growing confusion, the second time in a week, he had taken off and eventually shut down his own comm.
She approached the well after a long drive, and transformed out of her vehicle form to walk over. A figure sitting down, and looking small on the huge outer rim of the massive ancient structure, made her sigh with relief. She began to hurry closer, but quickly realized it was not 'Bee. The figure was red, and she saw the well-known pair of over the top fancy wheel rims as she approached.
"Knockout?" she questioned, still moving closer anyway. When had he left the base? "What are you doing way out here?"
He gave a look in her direction and shrugged his shoulders with his hands in front of him. "oh, I just decided to go out for a little drive."
He was silent for a moment before he asked. "Still no sign of bumblebee then I suppose? I would assume you came here looking for him."
"No sign of him again. And I was sure he'd be here. Something told me to go to the well. Sadly, there's little I can do right now. I can't keep looking when I don't know where to look. I can only hope he'll either comm someone soon, or finally answer his own." Arcee sat down near him on the edge of the rim. She pulled her legs up in front of her and wrapped her arms around her knees. Looking up at him, she spoke again, changing the subject. "Hey, don't worry too much about Wheeljack. He's a good bot usually. He was on his own too long, and before that, I think he must have gotten a little too used to talking to wreckers. You look better now."
"I'm fine. I just came out here to drive and calm down. That's what I do. I drive and I think."
"It's been ages since anyone got the bright idea to bring out some high grade. Last time it was nothing like that mess. I didn't think it would get out of hand."
"Well you've obviously never partaken with a group of already enraged 'cons, I see." Knockout laughed a little, but his tone was also a little too serious.
They both fell silent for a short while, each one looking down idly into the endless darkness of the well, and each thinking their own thoughts. Knockout spoke up again. "I think that old wrecker might be right in a way. I always have been more than a little self-absorbed. Oh like I care. It's who I am. What can I say? But I never really thought before about why exactly. I mean, why do scuffmarks matter so much anyway?"
"He may be right. He may be wrong," Arcee said firmly. "You've got forever to figure yourself out. The point is he was out of line. Wow, I never would have thought he'd act like that after too much high grade. No fraggin'' filter for his vocal processor, that's for sure."
"Well high grade is known to make one do some crazy things. I never would have thought Bumblebee would be the type to punch a teammate either."
Arcee shook her head again. She let her head rest on her folded knees. "He's not. He's absolutely not that type at all. Tonight, I can't say I think it was even the drink that made him do that. It's just too out of character. That's not the 'Bee I know." She considered for a moment. "You've known him a while too. Even fighting on the opposite side. Tell me, he was never the kind that would have just stood up and punched someone like that."
"He's a good fighter," Knockout rolled his optics and frowned for a second. "Believe me I would know, after years of fighting Autobots for control of energon mines and relics. But punching a teammate? Never."
Arcee signed hard. "I just wish I could help him. I wish I knew what it was I could actually help him with in the first place. He's reckless. He's looking for a fight… Sorry. I'm just rambling."
Knockout looked down at her. "Go on. A little rambling never did any harm."
"'Bee is still young. He's younger than Smokescreen as I understand it," Arcee said, still speaking out loud to get her thoughts in order. She shook her head lightly at the last bit and said with a chuckle. "Yeah, you'd probably never guess that most days." Her voice turned serious again, thoughtful. "He's just not fully dealing with the loss of our Prime it seems. We are all still sad sometimes, though we understand the reasons for everything. I would imagine it's much worse for poor 'Bee. Optimus rescued him once years ago, spoke up for him when he should have been scrap. Became a role model and pretty much a parent figure."
"Oh," Knockout appeared genuinely surprised at that. The 'bots know that, but he of course had not.
Arcee went on, explaining. "I didn't know any of them at that time. I joined up with them much later. But I guess 'Bee was just some young one, newly drafted for scouting duty among hundreds of others, barely old enough to be away from home. He found himself on a battle field one night, sent to deliver a message to an Autobot commander. Megatron landed with part of his own fleet, and the story goes that he was mad as anything over some recent losses of his own. He had a score to settle. Instead of calling an attack on the army, or just going after the commander, he saw a chance to make an example to our side. Unfortunately, that was by grabbing the young kid that was still just standing holding a data pad to hand over. He was in a rage, and not looking for negotiations. He pounded the kid to near scrap, and for probably no reason at all, but his own twisted anger, made a point of utterly destroying his vocalizer systems. He ripped the whole vocalizer apart and part of his faceplate with it. He tossed him over the edge of the cliffs near the battle field, left him bleeding out over the ground, and flew off like it was all just business. Apparently even Starscream, who had landed right behind him, yelled that the act was ridiculous and unnecessary. He tried to make him stop, before he horribly killed an innocent young kid. That's saying a lot.
"'Bee was hauled away to a field hospital. Ratchet did his best with what he had. He saved his life but that was almost not enough. Prime visited the facility weeks later, and noticed the kid, terrified, constantly shaking, crying silently with washer fluid all over his face, refusing to eat. He'd given up, typed once that he should have been left for scrap. He was going to end some up mute beggar on the streets of the capitol and Prime saw that sad fate, but would never accept it. He saw something no one else had. The kid was too small, too weak, too slow for battle, and now he was damaged and not just in body. But Optimus gave him a job, paid him a little for his work, taught him to shoot, taught him to fight, to lead, to trust his own judgment. He would never let him give up until he was better than the rest, because he knew that better than the best was the way he could survive."
When Arcee finished speaking again, Knockout was staring at her, with his mouth open slightly and a look of utter disbelief and shock spread over his faceplates. He shook his head slightly, clearly trying to shake off his horror at what he had learned. Slowly he said in a quiet voice, "such cruelty and utter sadism, has never been above Megatron. I'm glad it was Bumblebee that finally killed him. Even Starscream was never successful at that, and he hated him most of all."
"I often suspected the situation between Starscream and his 'lord and master' was a bit more complicated than we ever really saw." Arcee stated honestly. She shook her head as she thought it over out loud. As Autobots, we always just assumed 'Scream was some spoiled little favorite of his, who wanted his job…."
A high pitched and urgent bleep inside her processor made Arcee leap to her feet in under a second. Knockout only looked at her for a second, silently questioning until she explained. "Bumblebee's signal is still inactive, but his emergency beacon has just gone off. He's either injured, or under attack!" She was in her vehicle mode in under a second, and looking for the source of the signal, as it displayed on her front panel, trying to track it fast.
"I'm going with you," Knockout said, before she might even have had a chance to refuse. He got up as quickly as he could, before he transformed and his voice continued speaking now from inside his car form. "I may still be slow on foot, but I'm as fast as ever as an automobile. You might need a medic."
"He's west of here," Arcee answered. "About thirty kilometers out."