Sitting on a bench in the front row of the stands and facing out toward the racetrack, Arcee smiled – if not somewhat anxiously – watching a group of youngling 'junior league' racers, driving the track. And she leaned her head against Knockout's shoulder panel, smiling far brighter just as soon as he, quite predictably, wrapped an arm gently around the middle of her frame. Her anxiety mounted quickly though, taking some of her smile away, as several of the little racers – their own youngling included, roared around the tightest bend of the track, while barely slowing down to make the curve. And she sat up straight again, her optics glued to the red and light blue 'Smart' car, among the multicoloured alt modes until she had cleared the corner.
"I still haven't decided how I feel about her racing," Arcee muttered, shaking her head a little even as her bondmate pulled her playfully against his frame again.
"Come on, Arcee," Knockout answered, cheerfully, and just as confidant as ever. He gestured with a hand, which waved enthusiastically, toward their youngling on the track. "She loves it. And she's good too. You see how well she's driving!"
Cybershock certainly was good. She was close to youngest of the junior league racers – second only to Hotwire. And her alt-mode, despite how much she'd loved it for its uniqueness from the moment she'd first chosen it to scan, was hardly a vehicle most would usually associate at all with racing. But she could drive just as fast as many slighter older younglings could. And could think fast, handling corners and anticipating the next one, all while watching other racers on the track, avoiding others when she needed to and passing when she could.
And she certainly did love it too. Her creator was right about that. She chattered on about racing just as much as she chattered easily about science (a subject she had loved since she was still a later first frame.) And on track she laughed with other racers as they all engaged in light sparked trash talk to each other, mostly all just for the fun and silliness of it.
Switchgear - who Arcee and Knockout had happily brought along with them while Bulkhead worked on the final inspections of the last completed housing building – leaned forward excitedly in her place on the bench beside Arcee, cheering loudly as Hotwire began to catch up to the the racer he'd been chasing for a lap and a half.
"It looks like it might be fun to race," she mused smiling.
Switch', Arcee knew, had never been a speedster sort of bot. She was much more of a scrapper, usually fighting for fun against other younglings her size or even bigger, who enjoyed it for sport. But she'd never been one to turn down a challenge either. And she constantly wondered exactly what she could do. Knockout, of course grinned at once.
"So, practice on the track sometime with Cybershock and Hotwire," he said. "Those two practice all the time. Usually I'll time them."
"You think I could...?"
Knockout just grinned brighter, before he answered laughing, "Any bot with wheels can do it."
Arcee had continued to watch her own youngling, out on the track, intently. But finally she dared to take her optics off her for a moment. And she looked around the stands behind her, smiling to see a crowd close to half filling the benches, and with numerous other youngling bots among them. Most bots – she knew – were there early for the main event, a 'masters' class race starting later in he afternoon. But 'juniors' was gaining a decent following too among the city, if for no other reason than bots in general found younglings just plain cute to watch, while racing just like big and faster bots.
It still made Arcee smile so often, even years after the war had ended, to see so many little bots on her home world again. The population had grown well on board the refugee ships. And it was growing better still on the planet itself. There were nine junior racers on the track at present, and perhaps three times that in the stands. And those together made up only a handful of the total already in the city.
Arcee spotted Hotwire's twin siblings, Hubcap and Sparkplug, sitting just a couple rows up, on either side of Speedbreaker, chattering away to one another, over their carrier's seated frame, while she held her youngest child, Tailfin, on her lap and smiled. The twins cheerfully shared a small bag of sweets, passing them back and forth, over speedy's knees, and once offering one to Tailfin, who reached for the sweet giggling loudly, before he mistakenly tried to eat it still in its wrapper.
A good ways away sat another pair of twins – Takeoff and Runway, identical miniature fighter jet alt modes, who certainly were decent young bots, but well known all the same for their constantly rambunctious behaviour and their tendency to egg each other on, and cause it to continue. They sat quietly though, at least for the moment on their bench, chucking a large metal bolt of all things, back and forth between them, while they watched each other's optics intently and didn't say a word.
Takeoff and Runway could talk perfectly very well. Arcee remembered them clearly from their days in her early learning classroom. But they never seemed to talk to each other out loud when it was just them conversing together. They 'talked' with near perfectly telepathy, staying entirely silent until they suddenly each burst out laughing over something no other bot would ever know. And Arcee wondered again, as she often had, why they could do so, while Hubcap and Sparkplug used words like anyone else. She guessed then that perhaps it made sense after all. The flyer twins were rare split sparks, while the grounder pair were not.
There was Turbocharge as well, who Arcee knew as one of Knockout's favourite and long time patients - sitting down at the far end of the front row, with the entirety of his family. Arcee quickly counted eight younglings – Turbo included – beside, in front of, and on the laps of their carrier and creator. Ten, she realized quickly, correcting herself when she remembered hearing from Knockout that two siblings were among the junior racers themselves And she noted, to her sudden joy, that she saw no sign of Turbo's walking frame anywhere.
Arcee looked up again and in the other direction. And she was surprised to see a young bot she knew was Soundwave's brother, sitting on the stands just few rows up from Turbocharge. He was silent, and watching the track with a strange staring look. And his red optics were the first pair she had ever seen on a youngling bot. And though she would never dream of saying so, that particular youngling unnerved her just slightly, somehow.
"I'm not sure I ever caught that one's name," she said to her bondmate And though she did feel slightly bad for that, it still seemed perfectly fair, because she had only met him once and briefly. The kid had barely said a word to her the day she'd met him.
Knockout looked over in the direction she was looking in. And he smiled at once.
"That's Blastwave," he said, gesturing now with his optics at the winged dark blue youngling.
"If anyone's ever wondered what Soundwave was like as a kid... I'd imagine that might be pretty close," Arcee muttered, chuckling a little, as she watched the youngling, still staring silently and close to motionless toward the track, watching with expressionless and almost calculating interest.
"The kid's a bit odd I suppose" Knockout said, confirming exactly what Arcee had been silently thinking. "But he really is a perfectly nice youngling. The whole family is actually quite a lovely little family."
Arcee found herself almost startled by that description. And instantly she wondered why. She'd met Shortwave before, had talked to her for quite a while and even shared a chuckle and some genuine smiles with the bot. Still, as she realized only then while talking with her mate, the idea of 'lovely' bots had just never quite clicked in her head when she considered the family of the bot that Soundwave had once been. She reminded herself then, quite firmly, that Soundwave himself had proved her wrong about him after his defection. Why, she wondered, couldn't his family actually be decent, if not a little strange?
Shortwave appeared then, creeping slowly and carefully along the front of the stands and past the railing between it and the track, with her youngest child in her arms. And Arcee gasped out loud, though still quietly, at seeing the child, still shocked at seeing her, though she had already once before. But Lightwave had been near recharge at that time – laying still over her carrier's knees - making the full extent of her condition far less obvious at a glance The youngling, clearly somewhere near the age of her own, was painted in the darkest blue and highlighted with and black and purple just like the rest of her family. But her head flopped forward against her carrier's panelling as she was carried, before flopping terribly to one side as she stepped too hard over the metal ground. The two tiny hands seemed to stay in tiny fists and the arms and legs bent, clearly close to painfully, from wires that seemed to pull them into such awkward bends.
"Poor baby," Arcee muttered, looking away from the child and back to her own, so as not to offend the newly arrived family. That little one she knew, was clearly damaged far more then anything she'd ever imagined could survive. And she looked urgently at her mate then, anxious and hopeful. "Do... you think anyone can do anything...?"
"Ratchet had begun to work her case already, before he left on that 'con hunting mission," Knockout explained. And clearly so much more familiar with the family, he smiled at them all brightly, including the very damaged youngling. To Arcee's surprise she heard the poor youngling bot make a tiny buzzing whirring noise under a quiet intake. It wasn't much at all, but still it was a sound. "He's trying hard, as you can imagine. And he's got my case, though very different from hers, as some form of hope... A youngling like that though, she's so medically fragile and weak. It would be so easy to do more harm than good, in much of anything we try to do for her...
"Shortwave clearly loves her, no matter what happens now..." Arcee mused. And she found herself smiling again, as her optics wandered back to the little family, and she watched Shortwave hold her damaged child's hand gently, unbending it slowly to relieve the constantly pulling wires she herself had learned so much about from her own mate's case. She watched the carrier pull the youngling tighter against her frame, clearly wanting to hug her like one would any youngling, while they sat watching the races. Knockout nodded quickly, his agreement obvious.
"You look lovely today, by the way," Knockout said, observing just that with a smile.
"Don't I always?" Arcee asked right back, pretending to be almost offended.
"Well, yes, of course," Knockout held up a hand in clear surrender and made a show of thinking hard, considering his words so as not to verbally dig himself into a hole. "But still you look... exceptionally good today."
Arcee just smiled at that.
She'd shined her paint that morning after a good long wash in the wash station, and had even let Knockout buff her to a brighter shine afterwards. He'd brought home some light scented wax for her several days before – clearly trying hard to relieve her strange edginess and slight though still clearly obvious lingering depression with a small but thoughtful gift. And she'd finally felt like trying some, instantly surprised with just how much difference a good coat of nice wax could make to her mood.
"Thank you for being understanding," she said slowly. "For being patient in dealing with this moody pile of bolts."
"You're my moody pile of bolts," Knockout told her, grinning. "And I'll always understand."
"What?" both bondmates said in the very same second, when Switchgear burst into giggles of laughter.
"I'm gonna to tell Cybershock later that her creators are weird," Switch answered still laughing a little. And Knockout laughed right back, himself.
"She'd only agree with you," he said, smiling as though he was somehow proud of himself. "She knows we're weird."
"That she does," Arcee agreed, before she laughed a little, adding jokingly, "and embarrassing her with the fact has become a part time hobby of ours."
She and her mate both loved Switch' like she was family. And they knew the little green youngling would always hold a place in their sparks, right along with the place held by their own child. And so Arcee hugged her tightly then, pulling her against her frame with an arm around her, as she so often did. And Switch' just grinned, instantly hugging her back.
"Final lap," Knockout said, grinning again, as the youngling racers on the track did their best to speed up, trying for their final bursts of speed for the finish.
The four in front, Cybershock among them, vied hard for the win, each one driving just a fast as they possibly could. Engines revved and roared. And tires squealed a little, as they steered left and right, all struggling to pass each other.
Speedtrap, who had been in a close second place position before Cybershock managed to get herself past him, yelled with anger when she did so. And Arcee stood up quickly from the bench, dismayed and horrified, when he, clearly quiet deliberately, spayed rough metal dust and pebbles into her youngling's headlights by spinning his back tires. She watched Cybershock, as she swerved hard to the left and then to the right, almost smashing into the forth place racer – Turbocharge's brother, and certainly not a youngling with any part in Speedtrap's needless bullying – before she managed to correct herself and and fall back in behind him.
"That was cheating," Arcee muttered, displeased, and offended for her youngling. And she shook her head, far from impressed as she watched her finish forth, while the bully called Speedtrap made second.
"I'll find time to have a word with him," Knockout promised, assuring her with patient confidence, even as he frowned, clearly less than pleased himself.
Arcee just nodded, watching her youngling, as she transformed back to her bot mode along the others now at the edge of the track. The little bot rubbed, with a slightly pained expression, at her headlights with sat the fronts of her shoulder panels, and frowned at the scuff marks caused by the dust spray to the front of her body.
"Did you see that," Cybershock remarked loudly to Hotwire, as the pair of them left the track, and jumped easily over the railing the surrounded it, before climbing up into the stands. She threw her arms up, clearly exasperated, and glared at the retreating form of Speedtrap, who was hurrying away high into the upper rows of benches. "Look what he did to my finish!"
Arcee, though she was certainly still beyond mad at the youngling who had needlessly flung metal dust at her youngling daughter, chuckled just a little out loud, at just how much Cybershock sounded like her creator in that second. She watched Knockout, as he chuckled just a little himself, holding out his arms to their little bot, who squeezed in between her parents, and let him inspect a small but still clearly painful and deep scratch across her headlight casing.
"It's nothing serious," he said, assuring her with a smile. "Self repair will fix that up in hours.
"I'll shine you up tonight," Arcee promised the youngling, smiling a little, and watching as she instantly smiled right back.
"Nice driving today, my girl," Knockout said, smiling at the youngling bot, before he turned to look behind him at Hotwire, now sitting with his smiling family. "You too, Hotwire."
"I wonder if it might be possible to set something up for the little flyers..." Arcee mused out loud, after looking for a good moment between the racetrack and the small handful of miniature plane modes that were sitting around.
Takeoff and Runway, it seemed were often at the track just watching with interest. And now there was Blastwave, who she reasoned might enjoy participation too. Firestorm's own newspark, would not be tiny forever. And he would surely fly one day, and want something to take part in too.
"They could race above the track if they wanted too..." Cybershock suggested grinning. She'd plopped herself down beside her creator just as soon as she'd come back to the stands, and now sat hugging his arm for no reason at all but that she was the ever affectionate child who still wanted hugs from her parents. Of course he hugged her right back.
"Their races would be short though," Arcee mused, chuckling a little. She knew well that even as younglings, the flyers were roughly three times as fast as any grounders.
"So, they do more laps," Cybershock suggested. She was looking toward the flyer twins now, and grinning, clearly about to suggest to them out loud that they should indeed race if the wanted to.
Runway however – at least Arcee was quite sure it was Runway, though even when she'd had them in her classroom almost daily it had been nearly impossible to remember which was which by their paint highlight colour – stood up staring back.
"You'd never time us," he said, in Knockout's direction, grinning with youngling confidence.
"Yeah," Takeoff exclaimed, standing up beside his brother. He smacked his twin roughly across the backs of his shoulder panels, and exclaimed with a laugh, "We're the fastest youngling bots on Cybertron!" Both flyer twins made their way closer to the little family, and grinned brighter.
"We'll fly even faster when we're bigger, too!" Runway exclaimed. And he jumped up and down on the benches with obvious excitement. "Someday... if we practice and we both try hard enough... we'll fly just as fast as Starscream!"
"Yeah!" Takeoff cheered, clearly more excited now then ever. "And he was the fastest flyer ever."
"Fast enough to break the sound barrier before he was ever half way to as fast as he could have gone according to the records!" Runway said. "And... it wasn't just speed either. He could fire his weapons from the air... while he flew upside down!"
"No one ever stood in Starscream's way!"
"No one could ever could have caught him. And anyway, Cybertron feared the roar of his engines!"
The two young flyers walked away again now heading further up the rows of benches, with clearly so little interest in racing on the track. And they continued, as they went, to quote facts and figures to each other with grins across their face-plates.
Arcee, was quite taken aback as she sat with her family and Switchgear on the bench. And for a moment she just sat shaken her head, near horrified.
"Starscream was a monster with a list of atrocities just as long as that of Megatron himself," she muttered frowning. "He's murdered younglings, tortured innocent civilians, and bombed cities. And those younglings see him as some kind of.. hero or something. How can they think it's a good thing to want to be anything like him."
"They don't want to be like Starscream," Knockout answered back, his tone calm and strangely understanding. "They just want to fly like he could..."
"Like it makes a bit of difference," Arcee grumbled. She still felt some days like her bitterness over the war – which she still felt far too strongly sometimes – would never leave her completely. And now was one such time.
"Those younglings are neutrals," Knockout reminded her calmly. "They were born on a ship, and the only home world they'll ever know is the one we're still rebuilding. The war will never mean the same thing to them, or anyone as young as them, as it does to us. They are also flyers in a world where they will always be the rare minority..."
"I guess it does only make sense they would look up to the greatest flying bot the world ever had," Arcee muttered back. And she smiled her understanding then, though she still didn't exactly like it much. "And Starscream did come to understand that he'd been wrong... especially in the final hours of his life."
She'd added the last bit mostly for the interest of Cybershock and Switch still beside her, as well as Hotwire and his slightly younger twin siblings, all of whom had clearly been listening to her intently interested in a story they'd never heard before, and deserving of facts before they were lost to confused embellishments – just like any stories that only seemed to grow and grow.
"Can we stay and watch the 'masters' class races?" Cybershock asked, after a moment in which they'd all just sat around cheerfully among the now steady growing crowd. Switch looked up at well, hopefully and interested. And Arcee, who was going to agree at once, stayed silent instead when knockout spoke up.
"Of course we can," he told the younglings, grinning. He pulled Cybershock playfully against his frame for a second, shaking her a little, and making her giggle as she'd always done in response.
"I'll.. be back in a moment," Knockout said then, standing up from his place on the bench carefully, and pausing for a second to look up far higher into the stands, where Speedtrap sat alone and scowling at no one.
Climbing steps was still a tricky thing for him to do, because there was much much call to do it on a daily basis. The rows of benches at the track was about the only place it might ever have really have come at all, usually. But he and his family usually sat in the front row, mostly for the sake of saving him from dealing with the climbing in the first place.
Still, he could climb up there if he wanted to. And as long as he held carefully to the edge of the benches, for lack of any handrails, he could certainly do it safely enough. Regardless, Arcee turned around to watch him, worried he might just fall, wishing she could help him instead of risking such an accident, but well aware that her stubborn mate would only have refused. And she was relieved and pleased at once, when she saw some kind and smiling refugee extend a hand to him when indeed he did trip and stumble on the seventh step or so – not laughing or mocking, but simply helping before he left go of him again. The two even appeared to share a friendly chuckle.
Finally, Knockouts at himself down in the stands again, next to the bullying youngling he'd gone to talk with, making himself comfortable on the bench beside him without even being invited. And Arcee watched a moment as the two began conversing quietly. She watched her mate as he gave the youngling bot a good telling off. And she smiled, still watching as he so clearly listened patiently as the little bot spoke in reply.
Despite her situation Firestorm was having a good day. It was sure not wonderful by any means. But the best she'd had yet in the time she'd been alone. Ratchet had been right in pushing her to get back to her paint shop – because business had boomed since she'd been back. Staying on her feet all day, painting bots while carrying was certainly exhausting. But she'd quickly found that she didn't mind. The work kept her busy, and the exhaustion of it let her recharge well at night. And she'd been spending time with friends too. They would stop by often to drag her on out with them to the market place, or to the racetrack to watch races with them.
It was early evening now, and she was, quite predictably still at work. But her last client was gone, pleased and grinning over the racing stripes she'd completed for him. And she found herself humming a little to her unborn newspark, as she tidied up the shop. She felt him wake up, as she put away her paint sprayer and tape. And by the time she'd begun to quickly organize paint jars in a high cupboard, he was spinning faster then ever around her own spark. She giggled at that, smiling. And she began to hum a new song instead, just to see if perhaps he might like it. He certainly seemed to. Because his spin slowly just a little just as though he was listening to her. And she smiled brighter then before, silently thinking intently of just how much the already loved him, and wondering if he would understand that too. She smiled again, when her spark chamber warmed just a little, in what she guessed was the tiny life's answer back to her.
"You'll have a great life, my... youngling," she said out loud but quietly. And she paused in the middle of her shop's empty storeroom, realizing only then she had someone never once thought about a name for the baby.
"What am I going to call you?" she asked both him and herself, frowning a little as she considered. And she sat down on a storage crate to think much harder on the matter then, as well as to rest. It occurred to her, for just a moment, that perhaps she would call him 'Windstorm', named for her brother. But that didn't seem as right to her as she knew it might have once, the more carefully she considered.
"I'll decide soon," she promised the newspark, smiling again, as she realized she still had plenty of time. And she rested a hand against her closed spark chamber. "I'll pick a good name, I promise."
She stood up again from the crate, put away the last of her supplies and crossed the room to turn out the storeroom lights. Then, frowning when she heard the fans, still running in the paint room next to it, she hurried to shut them down before leaving. The buzzer, placed above the shop's sliding door, to alert her with a noise when it slid open, buzzed loudly, just as the fan shut down. And Firestorm looked around her momentarily startled, sure that it was clear from the outside, that the paint shop was closed for business. She hurried to the front when she heard footsteps in the atrium.
"I'm sorry," she called out before she'd even made her away around the dividing wall and out of the back rooms. "I'm closed for the night. I can book you in for an appointment if you would..."
Her words died in the air though, and she never did finish speaking. Because Soundwave stood in the atrium, just in front of the now closed door. And he smiled, nervous and clearly uncertainly at her, with a large and beautiful bunch of crystal flowers in his hands, held in front of him.
"Hi..." Firestorm said slowly, because she was unsure entirely of what else she should have said. She wondered exactly what it was he wanted. And she hated not knowing for sure.
"Hello, Firestorm" Soundwave said. He held out the flowers to her, his look hesitantly and hopeful. So much like a nervous youngling near tears and fearing rejection, it was almost comical. "These are... for you. From... a ridiculous fool who deserves whatever retribution you have in mind..."
He startled visibly as soon as she took one small step toward him, a look in his optics making it clear he feared she was about to smack him or worse. It was out of character, and it made her laugh because she couldn't help it. And soon she was smiling, a hesitant and uncertain smile of her own as she took a few more steps, hands at her sides, head nearly shaking with disbelief over his obvious relief when she made it clear she was not planning to slap him after all.
"They are beautiful, thank you," she said, gently taking the bunch of flowers before laying them carefully on the desk behind her. She stood in front of him, looking up into his face-plate and optics, as she'd grown so used to doing and blinked, angry and hopeful, confused and dismayed all at once. "What are you doing here?"
"I... wanted to see you..." Soundwave sounded so uneasy, unsure of himself like he'd never been before. He smiled just a little. "You... look well..." He looked her over, and smiled again slightly. "Carrying suits you well, Firestorm."
"Thank you." Firestorm left it at that, because she wasn't sure what else she wanted to say.
"Our... my... apartment is different now," she said, chattering almost idly because Soundwave wasn't speaking a word, clearly waiting for her to do so. And the silence was awkward. "It's almost ready for a youngling. I... I have most of what I need. And I moved things around to make it all fit. I... I can't get the recharging basket together. Ratchet gave me a very nice one as his gift to the baby. But... it's so complicated to set up..."
"I'll build it," Soundwave said, surprising her at once. She knew though that the offer certainly shouldn't have surprised her. They had not parted on terrible terms, and he had said he'd always be around to help her.
"I would... appreciate the help," she told him, smiling, after she'd considered for a second. She wanted to ask him how he'd been, if he'd been assigned his own housing yet, how his work was, or anything really.
She wanted to sit for hours just talking with him as they always had. And she knew he would if she asked him to. But she just couldn't, because she still missed him so much she knew she'd only be devastated all over again when they parted ways again. She watched him thought for a second or two, because she couldn't help it. And she was startled when he held his hands out to her. It was almost before she understood at all what she was doing, that she had offered him hers. And in only a second more, he'd pulled her toward him, holding her tightly against his much larger stronger frame, with her head resting exactly where she thought it belonged – against his lower chest panel.
"I... should not have walked away from you and our youngling," he said. His voice was shaky now with clearly threatening tears of coolant, as he hugged her tighter.
"A youngling whose life you assumed I might agree to terminate before he ever lived," Firestorm said back. She wanted to be angry, furious even, with him for that. And now that the matter was back out in the open she wanted to let him see that anger for himself. But she just couldn't bring herself to feel that fury, and it still didn't feel like the right feeling. It never had.
"Do you think I ever truly wanted that?" Soundwave asked. And Firestorm looked up at him, too see coolant in his optics by then.
"No," she said, meaning it entirely. "I know you had your reasons."
"And I was so very wrong," Soundwave answered, pulling her tightly against him again. Hugging her gently, when she suddenly broke into shaking sobs in her relief at just being so close to the familiar sound of his spark beat again.
"I meant it when I told you I love the newspark," he continued, walking with her carefully to some chairs against a wall, set out for use by the shop's waiting clients, and smiling at her hesitantly for just a moment before she moved bury her face-plate against his body panelling, crying harder. "If you would let me, I would like to come home... be the best bot I know how to be while you carry our child, and then love and care for her when she's born. Firestorm, I'm still so... affected by the war and so much besides that. And I fear now after so long, I'll never be better... not completely. But I can try. And I always will, if you'd only give me one more chance to get this right..."
"Yes," Firestorm answered. Her reply was formed in under a second. And she knew only after she'd spoken, that perhaps she should have made him wait and wonder for at least a moment or two. But it didn't matter, because in that second, with his arms tight around her and her face-plate still hidden against him, she knew she was right back where was meant to be.
"I have one more question for you, Firestorm," Soundwave said. But he said no more. And when she looked up at him, forcing herself to move away from the warmth of his metal panelling to do so, she saw him just shaking his head with dismay.
"I... can't ask you here. A paint shop is simply not suitable," he muttered, clearly so uneasy all over again. "Come flying with me!" He stopped again, and looked at her, concerned. "You are not... too tired from working to fly, are you?"
"No." Firestorm was tired. But then, she always was, and it seemed to come right along with carrying. She could not imagine she'd simply drift right into recharge then if she right right home to lay down and try to anyway.
She looked around then quickly, remembering the lovely bunch of flowers. And thinking quickly she set them up carefully, upright and supported in an old empty paint can on a self by the window. They would be fine that way all night she knew, and then in the morning she could put them into powered energon, in a decorative vase, where they should be fine forever. Then she shut off the lights, double checked and locked the empty shop behind her, and transformed into her flying alt mode on a main road which afforded just enough space to comfortably do so.
"Hey, Cyber-dweeb. Wait up," a voice called out across the empty playground. And Cybershock, who had been hurrying across it in her haste of get home to her carrier barely slowed, while she turned to look behind her, a feeling of dread rising up in her spark. She held the datapad she carried tighter in her hands.
Speedtrap. She'd thought she'd recognized both his voice and his insults. That bot, she decided with barely a thought about it, was surely the only one she know of, who was both mean enough and predictable enough to make fun of her name and think that was funny.
"What do you want, Speedtrap?" she asked him, still walking, and barely giving him even a glance.
She could have made fun of his name too, and a few rather silly and amusing possibilities occurred to her at once. But she refused to sink to his level. Cybershock had had enough of him. More then enough. She'd never had any reason to like him much at all and him deciding spray rocks and dust at her her the day before at the racetrack, followed directly by his sulking in the stands had been about enough.
"Maybe I just wanna walk with you, Cyber-dweeb," Speedtrap answered, his tone taunting her as he managed to catch up by running. "Little kids like you shouldn't be out here alone."
"Don't call me Cyber-dweeb," Cybershock snapped at him, turning for a second to glare at him, before she turned away and just kept on walking. She choose to ignore comment about 'little kids' entirely, well aware that she was only a few years younger than he was, even if he did try to act older than he really was for whatever reason she might never understand. He had joined the same educational room as she was in every day in school, when he'd landed on the planet – and each of those rooms covered maybe ten years in age range. And she was fine outside alone. It wasn't dark yet and her carrier knew where she was... trusted her to go straight home.
"Fine, Cyber-fail," Speedtrap laughed, his voice and expression still taunting. "I won't."
"Leave me alone, Speedtrap," Cybershock demanded, firmly. She stopped, recalling everything her carrier had told her once, and placed her hands on her hips, facing him and looking him confidently in the optics. "I don't feel like dealing with rusty scrap metal today."
"So... I hear your creator fell flat on his face-plate in the market awhile ago," Speedtrap said, ignoring her request to leave her alone completely, and laughing like he'd said something that might actually have been funny. "I wasn't there to see it myself... I heard it later from my brother. But my guess is your Daddy was wasted drunk in public, Cyber-loser. Nothing but some drunken-bot who can barely walk ten steps. 'Guess that's why he just sits around by the racetrack and we never see him drive... huh, pipsqueak?"
He smacked her then, with both of his hands in open palms against her upper arms repeatedly. He wasn't hitting very hard, but Cybershock still didn't like it anymore then she liked the ignorant thing he'd just said about her beloved creator – her personal super hero to anyone who asked. Annoyed by the smacking, and fully fed up with him by now, she slapped his hands away from her, stepped sideways to put distance back between them.
"He can drive just fine," Cybershock said. Her rage was building quickly – her carrier's slightly too quick temper she knew so many bots would say to that. But she forced her anger back, and took an intake to calm herself down – just the same as she'd always seen her carrier do. And quickly she continued on, boldly. "My creator could out-drive your bragging loud mouth brother any day."
She never had seen her creator race. He certainly could transform, and drive in his own alt mode. It was him who had taught her to do both of those things – as well as teaching her to scan a form, once they'd finally found a Fortwo smart car just like the alt mode he knew she so wanted. But she knew he could race if he wanted to. She was certain of it. He'd told her before, more then once, that his racing days were over, and it was her turn now. But still, she did hope some times to see him try just once...
"Not falling over drunk he can't," Speedtrap answered back, ignorant as ever, and pulling her back from her thoughts. He scowled at her, before he finally gave a smirk, that Cybershock wished she could wipe clean off his face-plate. "And he just went right on taunting. "I bet he falls over everything at home... I bet you have nothing nice anymore 'cause he's busted it or sold it. I hope he doesn't fall over wasted at work... that's dangerous for a medic..." He paused then. And for a long moment he just glared at her maliciously enough to make her shudder.
"Your daddy came to talk to me yesterday at the track," he growled, as he took a step closer while she promptly backed up. "He did seem pretty normal and not falling over wasted then, but I did see him nearly fall on the steps and I know you saw it too. Anyway I didn't like the talking to, Cyber-loser. And if I ever get another one, you'll be fraggin' sorry
"My creator is not a drunken bot," Cybershock said, ignoring his pointed threat completely, as she fought back now boiling rage She calmed herself, making herself remember that some bots simply didn't understand. They could learn, she reasoned quickly, if only someone bothered to explain. And if only her fellow youngling knew just how far her creator had come in her lifetime...
"He can't help falling sometimes," she told him calmer now. She was walking toward the climbing structure in the middle of the playground by now, with Speedtrap still close beside her. And she stopped to lean against the climbing bars. "It barely happens anymore... that day in the market was the first time in forever. He's got some processor damage is all. It was a random processor crash... that's how he explains it. But he's the best creator on Cybertron! And a good medic too... his patients are younglings like us. He's saved lives..."
She thought about Switchgear then, and the first time she'd seen her – long before Switch' was one her best friends. The green bot had been damaged once - laying half way to recharge in her creator's lap in the courtyard, where he'd brought her to sit with his own family so she wouldn't be so lonely. He didn't have to do that. And even at the young age she'd been then, Cybershock had known that without being told. He didn't have sit with Switchgear laying in his arms... didn't need to rock her while she cried in panic... didn't need to make her laugh and try harder when he failed to at first. But he had because that was just what he did. And Cybershock knew he did such things in his job all the time.
"You're lying," Speedtrap said, scowling. And Cybershock just stared for a moment, shocked at the accusation, unable to do or say a thing as he quickly went on speaking loudly and hateful. "You're a dirty lair Cyber-fail! Your creator doesn't have processor damage. Bots don't survive processor crashes, liar! He's a drunk freak and you're prob'ly embarrassed." Speedtrap paused then, took an intake, and huffed rudely. "Even if it was all true... if he did suffer some crash, then it's too bad he lived. He's better off dead, 'cause we all know he's some rotten ex decepticon."
"How dare you say my creator – or anyone's – is better off dead!" Cybershock yelled at the bully. Every bit of the rage she'd fought back, spilled over at once. And this time she didn't try to stop it. "You're a terrible bot, you... rust bucket!"
"Maybe your processor will crash one day too, Cyber-freak," Speedtrap yelled as the confrontation escalated needlessly fast. "Maybe it's inherited. Maybe the city will laugh at you someday too!" And Cybershock, stood frozen then, shocked to hear such horrifying things from the mouth of a youngling not much older than herself. Some adult bots said vicious things in public – not many, and not often... but some. And Cybershock was sure that even they were not nearly that viscous.
The data pad, she'd managed to keep a hold on until then, was knocked suddenly from her hands by the bully – who bumped it hard from underneath, while she was busy fuming. And it hit the ground hard. It had landed on the rubber flooring below the climbing set up, but still the fall had been bad. And Cybershock could see already to her dismay that the thing was cracked badly.
"Those were the notes for our class science project," she exclaimed, letting herself fume even more, now that she had ever more to fume about. "Hotwire's Switch's and mine. You know that project is due tomorrow." she thought of her two best friends, who she'd spent the evening working with to make that project perfect... how they'd all been sure it was a top grade. And they'd had fun doing it too, or at least she did, because she loved science more then any other class.
"I'll never be able to retype that whole thing tonight!" she cried in exasperation when she saw, after reaching down to grab the pad, that it was fully blank and worthless, with it's memory chip laying loose on the ground.
"Then I guess all three of you will fail," Speedtrap smirked now, more wickedly then ever. And Cybershock balled her hand up into a fist, sure she was more than ready to knock the smirk off his face-plate by force just to make him stop. "Of course those two freak friends of yours will hate you soon, and you'll be all alone every day crying in the corner, because you had the notes to hold, and you made them both fail."
The bully jumped them, a good foot into the air, before his heavy feet came down on the data pad and so clearly on purpose, fully smashing it to bits where there had been so little hope of salvaging the notes before.
"You don't need science anyway, Cyber-freak," his smirk grew even bigger, and he learned forward into her face-plate, before he smacked her hard against her shoulder panel, making her stumble a little right before he shoved her nearly off her feet. "You're just going to end up like your creator... a processor damaged junk pile as you said yourself. And when that finally happens, I'll bet your 'wonderful' creator won't even love you anymore... because every parent likes their younglings normal and pretty..."
Cybershock felt the tears of coolant forming in her optics then – the horrible bullying forcing them from her before she could stop them. She lowered her optics, and quickly turned away, but it was clearly too late, and she knew that in under a second, when she saw him grin through her now cloudy field of vision.
"Junior class racers don't cry, Cyber-nobody," he said laughing as he shoved her again harder. "First frame babies do! I guess you're just a baby..."
"Get fragged!" Cybershock yelled, the very unacceptable 'grown up' language leaving her mouth before she could stop herself from cussing. "You're nothing but a good for nothing bully. And I told you to leave me alone!"
She pushed him then, shoving him backwards just as hard as he'd shoved her more then once. And it suddenly felt so good to push back that she did it again, making sure this time to smack her hands against his frame a little as she did it, wanting him to hurt as much as she did, wanting him to be embarrassed if he fell, wanting to laugh if he did just like he'd laughed at her creator for no reason other then that it must have made him feel powerful to laugh at his misfortune.
Speedtrap didn't fall though. He barely even stumbled. And now he shoved her again, so hard that she fell instead, landing hard against the climbing set up she still been so close to. Her leg hit the lowest of the metal platforms, near the level of the ground, and slipped under it somehow, as she hit the rubber padded ground.
For a moment, Cybershock thought next to nothing of it. But Speedtrap was instantly panicked, his former bravado and smirking gone entirely. He just stared at her for a moment, mumbled something not quite coherent about how he hadn't meant to do... whatever it was he had done. And quickly he turned to run away without a look back.
Cybershock rolled then, from the strange and ridiculous position she'd managed to land in, laying sprawled half sideways with one leg wedged under the platform. And it was then that she saw the energon over the ground. It was coming, she understood to her shock and horror, from the side of her lower left leg, the one that had been wedged tight under the metal sheeting of the first climbing platform. And she realized then for the first time just how sharp the thing was somewhere underneath it – where bots did not usually shove parts of their own bodies while simply playing on it.
It was bad. She knew that at once, because it had only just happened, and already her lower leg was soaked with energon and laying in a small spreading pool of it. She wondered for a second what to do. And she realized, to her sudden panic, that she didn't know. She needed to get herself home, then more then ever – the sun was quickly setting overhead. And the energon she was still losing quickly glowed bright in the dimness of oncoming night. So she tried to stand up, struggling to pull herself up to her feet, using the bars in the climbing setup still in front of her. Pain tore through her lower leg and all the way to the knee, just as soon as she put her weight on it, and after a couple of steps, just to turn herself around, away from the climbing bars, she simply fell to the ground, painfully and helpless. She knew then she'd never manage to walk the block and a half still left until she reached home.
Cybershock wanted to cry again at that moment. Not from pain - though that was about as bad as anything she could remember ever in her life, and her whole lower leg was now throbbing and pulsing with soreness – but from her panic and helplessness at being outside alone when she wanted to be home. For a good moment she tried yelling for help across the empty playground and the surrounding small field of metal. But no one answered her back, and she understood quickly that of course no one was around there at night. Her city could be dangerous after dark and she remembered that all too clearly, as the sun set lower in the sky. It was mostly drunken bots and the fights they caused, rather than anyone who would truly want to harm a youngling – at least as a rule – from what she'd heard older bots talk about. But still, the idea of being outside alone too late unnerved her. She tried to stand up again, and of course she fell back down again. And this time she found her world appearing to spin around her horribly from the increasing loss of energon.
"Cybershock!" a voice called from... somewhere. And she recognized it with immediate relief as her carrier's. But the voice had been calling for a while. She could tell at once, because already it had grown so urgent. And Cybershock realized to her growing terror that she hadn't heard it all while the world spun around.
"Mama?" she muttered, quiet and shakily, looking up to see her carrier kneeling down quickly on the ground beside her.
She wondered for a second how she'd found her, and then slowly she realized with relief, that her carrier must have walked the shortcut she'd guessed her creation would take to reach home. And sure enough her guess had been right.
"Cybershock," her carrier said, urgently and calmly all at once. The first aid kit she, like most Autobots never teemed to be anywhere without, was in her hands at once. "What happened to you, baby?"
"I... was pushed... and I fell," Cybershock explained. Once again she wanted to cry, this time with relief just as well as her still increasing pain – which only seemed a little worse as her carrier worked fast, wrapping her leg in some metallic covering.
Instead of crying though, she explained everything, including all that Speedtrap had said. By the time she was done, her lower leg was tightly bandaged and she was once again close to shaking from her rage. Her carrier just held her just tight against her frame while she sat together on the ground, both of them taking a good long moment before they let go again.
"Cybershock, why didn't you call my comm-link?"
Her carrier's question was a good one. And Cybershock just shook her head, confused and unsure, and suddenly feeling silly.
"I... I don't know," she answered slowly. "I guess I just panicked... and I... I couldn't think..."
"It's alright. It's alright."
For a second Cybershock was back in her carrier's arms again, and she managed to smile then a little.
"I... I think this might be pretty bad," she said, mumbling a little with her face-plate tight against her carrier's armour. And looking up at her again, she saw her nod slowly.
"You creator is still on shift tonight at the hospital," she told her, smiling assurance the way she'd always seemed so easily able to. She picked Cybershock up from the ground, holding her in her arms with some obvious difficulty but still just as clearly able to do so entirely, and smiled assurance again. "I think we had better go see him at work."
Soundwave had been outside alone for awhile in the courtyard out behind the Autobot base, thinking his thoughts as the sun began to set in the sky to the west. He turned slowly, at the sound of slow, slightly uneven footsteps, and turned a little on the bench he was sitting on, to see Knockout approaching, with a fuel container in his hand. The red painted medic's hint of a smile was clear, even in the dimming light all around them. And he paused beside the bench, waiting until Soundwave nodded slightly, before he sat himself down on its other end, holding the back of it as he did, so clearly careful so as not to lose his balance and fall.
"You were looking for me?" Soundwave asked, uncertain and concerned all at once. But Knockout just shook his head.
"No," he answered, chuckling just a little, as he come to so easily do. "But I'm on shift tonight in the hospital, and I saw my chance to take a fuel break. When I saw you out here too, I figured I had a perfect chance to come and have a chat."
Knockout still smiled, and he laughed again just a little. But his tone was serious too. And Soundwave just looked in his direction, waiting to hear what it was he had to say.
"So, I hear you've decided to go home to Firestorm and be a creator to your youngling," Knockout said. He smiled brighter, clearly happy for him. And Soundwave nodded slowly.
"I've asked Firestorm to be my bondmate too," he said, allowing a smile to fill his own face-plate then. "She accepted..."
"'Bout high time," Knockout laughed loudly. He dared to smack Soundwave lightly over the side of his shoulder panel – something bots were beginning to do more and more now, as Soundwave himself grew slowly more used to allowing it. "You... sound surprised over her acceptance."
"Slightly..."
Knockout only laughed louder at that answer. And for a moment, Soundwave saw him simply staring at him, half dumbfounded.
"She's wanted to be your bondmate for more than a decade," he said, shaking his head, with obvious disbelief. "And now you're surprised that she's agreed to be..." he just sat silent again, his head still shaking for a moment, and chuckling quietly.
"I've never talked much at all about my creator," Knockout said when he'd stopped laughing and turned serious again a good moment later.
Soundwave just looked at him without a word, confused at the sudden change of subject, and the unexpected one the medi-bot had picked. But Knockout smiled a little again, though warily this time. And he sat leaning back on the bench while he sipped from his fuel container.
"He was not a brute of a bot, as I understand yours certainly was," he explained when he spoke again. "Never hit me or any such thing... though he and my carrier would fight constantly and they were both constantly covered in dents because of it. My creator and I never could see optic to optic. He hated that I wanted to be a medic. He worked with his hands all his live, mining energon for a living. And he felt I ought to do the same and like it. He used to laugh at me for reading. I'd bring home texts I'd find in second hand market stalls, medical texts mostly. And he'd drive over then on the road, yelling that I was far to dumb for such reading. I'd tell him I could make it, he'd tell me I was just to stupid. I'd tell him I was trying for the academy of higher education, he'd say I'd only be a laughing stock. He destroyed my drawings. He mocked my friends... He told me constantly I was doomed to die alone because I'd never find a bondmate. The day I left home was the last time I saw him, because I just couldn't deal with it anymore.
"Many bots would say I showed him good and proved him wrong. Which I guess I certainly did, and that's obviously wonderful. I'm head of ward. I have my own family. Still... it bothers me sometimes even now. I wonder why I wasn't good enough... what I could have done that might have made him say just once that he actually loved me like my carrier always tried to convince me he did."
Knockout paused then in his recollections. And he sighed a little, finishing his fuel quickly, before he continued on, far more cheerfully now, through just as serious.
"I promised myself, when Cybershock was still a few days old, that she would never live like that. She'd never doubt herself, never think she wasn't good enough, or that her creator doesn't love her just for wanting what she wants and having her own dreams. I genuinely don't care if she becomes a rocket scientist, or if she wants to work road construction one day. I just want to see her smile when I tell her she'll be the best... whatever it is that she's going to be."
"My carrier told me once that I don't need to become what my creator was," Soundwave said, instantly understanding his friend and teammate's point.
"You don't," Knockout said firmly. "I didn't. I learned exactly what I didn't want to be, and decided I would never be that."
"I fear my own child could never love me half as much as Cybershock loves you," Soundwave said. It had been a concern of his from the moment Firestorm had first mentioned her want of a youngling. And it had been years since then. "Or half as much as Bumblebee's entire growing batch of his loves him... or..."
"You've heard me say before I once thought for sure, my Cybershock would never possibly love me much," Knockout said seriously. "When she was born I feared more then anything that she'd simply resent me just for being me. For being half helpless while any little friends she'd have would have fast and strong, non-damaged creators. Arcee told me I was our baby's 'super hero' once. And I truly couldn't believe it when I realized it was true. I make mistakes too, you know. Everyone does. I've let her down. I've even made her cry a time or two. And somehow she still seems convinced I'm the greatest... yours will think the same about you."
"Were you... afraid when you learned Arcee was carrying your newspark?" Soundwave asked slowly, just slightly worried that he may well have offended his friend in doing so. But to his relief, he saw heard him laugh loudly instead.
"Are you fragging kidding me?" Knockout exclaimed, still laughing while he shook his head in obvious disbelief. "Probably much closer to completely terrified. I thought that night my spark might stop. I slowly got better, at least until the youngling was born. And then I feared I would hurt her just by touching her. You saw her then. She was just so... helpless."
"Thank you for the talk," Soundwave said, serious and meaning it.
"Not a problem," Knockout replied, smiling a little again. "You know where I live if you ever want to talk some more." He stopped then, rather suddenly. And just sat a second listening to something Soundwave couldn't hear.
"A page from the youngling ward," Knockout explained, standing in a hurry just a second after that. "Basically the sound of duty calling. I'll... be around."
Notes/ In a recent review, someone wondered if Firestorm and Soundwave would have a boy or a girl... and that gave me a potentially fun idea. I'm not honestly entirely decided yet. And either way the fact that they have a youngling is more important to the plot than it's gender. So... you folks tell me. Majority wins on this one.