Exciting news everyone! I got bullied into making a discord server! :D

If you wanna chat or hang out here's the link, feel free to stop by:

h**ps:/ / dis cord .gg/AzW56m2Ebq

Bumblebee held me around my waist with a single hand. He was a smaller bot, much smaller than Misdirect or Ratchet but still big enough to wrap his whole hand around my torso, and for me to dangle high enough in the air to be nervous about it. At least this guy seemed far friendlier than Ravage or Ultra Magnus. To be fair, they hadn't really set the bar that high.

I could hear the receding footsteps of the lieutenant as we exited his office. To my surprise, Bumblebee only took a few steps forward before setting me back down. We weren't walking, were we? I wasn't nearly that uncomfortable with being held. Bumblebee looked down at me very much like a little kid looking at something cool they had just discovered. He beeped cheerfully at me. Was he expecting me to understand? Was there a pattern or something I was missing?

I mumbled something or other to him about how I didn't understand. He wasn't bothered, instead, he gave a knowing nod. His body began to break apart. More than willing, I hopped a few feet back to give him room. I guess we weren't walking, though I wasn't sure how useful a jet would be in these hallways.

I thought about the tube probably still open and waiting somewhere in the brig. Would it take Magnus long to discover it? The Decepticons would probably be a decent distraction, hopefully I'd be home before he noticed it. If going home was even a possibility anymore. I was sure Brainstorm would handle it well enough either way, he didn't seem to be the type to linger and await the firing squad.

Bumblebee was finishing up. It looked painful to me, even though I knew it wasn't. Misdirect was off his rocker at any rate, acting like changing shape was normal. There was no way that it was a commonality in the universe, and hopefully it really wasn't, because that meant humans would be ridiculously outmatched. Besides, what sort of survival strategy is it to turn into a jet? I thought that over for a second. Unfortunately for me, the longer I thought about it, the more I realized it actually did seem useful.

Bumblebee was not in fact a jet, what sat in the hall was something far more car-like. He definitely had wings on his robot-mode. Did they have multiple shapes? Another inspection of the stout vehicle, with its top curved in an arch from front to back, revealed that the 'wings' I had seen appeared to be his 'car' doors. That was pretty clever. As to why he would do that, I had no clue.

The yellow not-car had a thick clean black stripe along the curved roof, and it looked fairly aerodynamic. The not-car bounced on its—on his—shocks, beeping as his door swung open for me. When I hesitated, his door gave me a jittery little wave, as if beckoning me. The tube was starting to feel much more preferable. Not that I liked the tube experience much, and not that I disliked this new bot, not at all. But the idea of sitting inside a living person…

Maybe with Misdirect I had been alright just because I knew him, but it felt weird when this guy was practically a stranger. I felt like I was getting in his space. Getting too close for comfort.

It's no different from being held. I reassured myself. I moved to take a seat. Sure feels different. Of this entire impromptu space adventure, this had to be in the top five of the strangest. Nothing outranked waking up in the dark room or being trapped under a toolbox by a robot. And unfortunately, after Ratchet had bound my wounds from the Ravage-bar incident, I had to explain to Ratchet the topic of bathrooms. Apparently, they didn't have anything like them, so something had to be jerry-rigged for me. It had been trial and error, and I'm sure I wasn't ever living down that embarrassment. Yeah, that was in the top three for sure.

That being the case, riding inside a living being was probably a solid four, maybe five. It felt incredibly unfair that such an insane thing couldn't be ranked higher. For the rest of my life, I'd merely be chasing the weirdness of the past two days. There was no topping this stuff. Especially considering that this whole experience began within the same afternoon that I had taken a precalc quiz and eaten cafeteria square pizza.

I slid into the seat. I was bracing myself for a very uncomfortable ride. I knew Misdirect had tried his best, but his crude and blocky interior had been more reminiscent of someone's first time using Blender. What I found was the opposite: Bumblebee had a very nice interior, it was comfortable. The seats were similar to actual car seats, cushioned and padded with the backrest at a comfortable angle. There was a flow to the design, the roof, floor, dash, and door sides all had smooth lines and curves that met each other naturally. The matte black material used around the cabin held glossy black accents, and yellow appeared in this dark interior stylishly. Even the footwells were roomy and covered in something that was very carpet-like. I kind of felt like I was in a proper car.

Bumblebee wasn't a car though. Not really. Well-designed or not, there was no ignoring that he was very much something else entirely. What caught my eye first was that the dash wasn't really a dashboard, it hung a bit too far in front of the seats than I was used to, it was thinner and completely smooth, blank. All except for a screen at its center that extended a few hand lengths across, really no taller than a tablet or laptop screen, save for it being somewhat longer. No pedals rested in the driver seat footwell, nor were there knobs or buttons anywhere. Glovebox, sun visors, cupholders, center console, and even door handles were all absent. Alien and liminal, but comfortable.

I nodded vaguely to my surroundings, unsure if he could even see me. "This is nice. The seats and everything." The complement felt awkward. Did they have much control over this stuff? Wasn't I essentially complimenting someone's body? I sat rigidly, afraid to let my back rest against the seat too much, or for my hands to leave my lap. The screen flashed to life and to my surprise words appeared, large and readable.

thank you

The words disappeared and I nodded, unsure what to say. Why was he using a screen to talk? Bumblebee had no trouble taking the initiative though.

Designation — The size of the text he used meant that there were only so many letters the screen could hold. The word disappeared to make room for the next one: Bumblebee

Designation Bumblebee? His name. Did he forget that Magnus introduced us, or was he just being polite?
"Kathrine. Um, nice to meet you, Bumblebee." He made a sort of chirping sound and we rolled forward down the hall, gaining speed slowly until the walls were blurring past us. Out of habit, I twisted to grab a seat belt only to have my hand close around nothing. Nervously I wondered if we were actually going that fast or if I just wasn't used to driving indoors. The screen blinked black and white, getting my attention again. He made a low whistle-like noise.

uncomfortable?

"Sorry. No, I'm ok," I said quickly, even though I remained frozen where I sat, "I just haven't been…um." What did I call this? Being held? Carried? Dear lord, I couldn't think right now. Thoughts about the Decepticons kept popping in and out of my head. I wondered how close they were. How much time we had. Or how angry everyone would be with me.

"I'm not used to this. The whole 'sitting in someone alive' sort of…" My sentence drifted off and I cleared my throat, "It's nice though, really. The only other person I've…" Sat inside? Why did that sound so weird? "That I've ridden in," Barely better than the other, "Was Misdirect. His seats and stuff were a bit…rough. I know he tried his best though," I added quickly. Bumblebee made a trilling sound. It was an amused sort of noise.

I've had lots — of practice

^‿^

Was that a face? An emote? The ride went on in silence. Magnus hadn't left me in the best talking mood. Nothing had. The threats from Ravage, the fear for Earth, the guilt. Right now I wanted to tune the world out. I wanted Misdirect here to make some stupid joke or suggest some bizarre field trip to distract us for a while.

My stomach pinched. God, I was hungry. What had it been, a day and a half since I had any real meals? Thirsty too. Tired. My arm was throbbing worse now, beneath the bandages it felt swollen. I wondered about infection.

The bots we passed in the hall paid us no mind. The further we got from the brig, the more decorated the halls. The first to appear were these digital bulletin boards, they held translucent 'posters' tinted with color, displaying alien script. Then as we drove, the walls gained simple designs, like the infamous single stripe I had seen outside the medbay. But there were others now, like one particularly long hall with orange blocked in down its length, or others with thin delicate lines that weaved in and out of one another, accenting a suddenly ornate door or simply adding detail to a colorful strip of wall. I swore there was also graffiti. Every so often a design would be scrawled that felt out of place, most often several would pepper a door. They felt like personal touches, unique to the door or wall they adorned. Occasionally, the hallway would zip away and we'd be rushing through the open space of a much larger room, or streaming along a walkway overseeing one. Occasionally large dark windows stood solemnly on their walls. We moved too fast for me to make out stars. Still. It was my first actual view of space since arriving on the ship.

Whether these massive rooms had vaulted ceilings, crowded equipment, or lounging spaces, one thing was the same: They held bots—of all sizes and colors with all sorts of wheels, wings, or armor on their bodies—busy with their own lives, looking as alive and animate as they had in the bar. We zoomed beneath conversations and chatter. I focused on my lap. Would they be mad at me too if they found out what I had done? These were living people, not nameless troops. But they hadn't felt alive to me when I had made my decision, had they?

The longer the silence lasted the more miserable I felt. Not to mention, Bumblebee was being so respectful of my need for space that it made me feel even worse.

He was excited. I was certain of it. Even if I had no experience reading the body language of a car, I could feel his excitement seeping in around me, it hummed with his engine, and it put an extra zip into the turns he made around corners or the sweeps he made to avoid the legs of other bots. I think I was the reason, unfortunately. After spending so much time with Misdirect and Ratchet, I forgot that I was still an alien to them just as much as they were to me. Was Bumblebee excited to meet the alien onboard?

"So…we're going back to the medbay?" It was my best attempt at starting a conversation. Bumblebee beeped confirmation and words scrawled across his screen.

is something — wrong?

"No, I'm happy to get back."

The screen took a half second to reply: you look upset

"Me?" I asked.

did U. Magnus — upset you?

Yikes. Right on the money. I thought about Earth. All the people who had no idea what was coming for them. And here, on this ship, all the bots I may have put in danger. They were just as alive as anyone back home.

"It's complicated," I said.

He made a noise like he understood.

"If it's not rude, why do you use a screen to talk?" For once it wasn't me who was reluctant to answer. He hesitated for some time, but just as I was about to apologize, he replied:

vocal processor — damaged

"Is that your voice?" Absentmindedly I touched my neck, right where my vocal cords made the smallest ridge on my throat. "Is it because of the quantum jump stuff? Was it injured? Are you getting it fixed at the medbay?" It would make sense that Magnus would grab Bumblebee if he was already on his way there.

old injury

permanent

"But…" I motioned to my arm, wanting to say something about Brainstorm and how he was able to get his whole arm replaced. I thought better of it. "Misdirect mentioned. He told me when parts wore out they could get fixed."

not all parts

not always

I chewed the inside of my cheek, feeling like a real butt for bringing it up. Clearly, it was a personal topic. "I'm sorry."

His reply was quick: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I risked one more question, "That beeping you did to talk with Magnus, that wasn't Cybertronian?"

no, it's — my own thing

had to get — creative

"You can make the words smaller if it helps you fit everything in on the screen."

There was a chirp and words appeared so small that I couldn't even read them.

I snorted, "Oh, perfect." I could tell he wanted to change topics and I obliged. "...so that emote. Where did you learn it?" When he seemed confused by the question I imitated the shrug, hoping he could see me and that I wasn't making a fool of myself. "This one, the shrugging one." Either he could indeed see me or I was just really brilliant in my description because it popped back up on the screen.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ?

found in your — text messages.

My hand fell to the torn pocket in my jeans where my phone would have been. "How? My phone got destroyed. Optimus punched it."

He laughed. The metallic grating noise was similar to the laughs I had heard from Misdirect, however, Bumblebee's was raspy and garbled, like it was an effort for him to pull off.

don't need it

have a copy.

I read the words aloud. Then said them again. Cheekily, the words sprung back up on his screen as I did so, like he was echoing my echo.

"What do you mean a copy? Like a full copy? Digital copy?" I eyed the screen.

He beeped cheerfully.

"That's unbelievable." I swept my hair back, hands flattening the wavy brown hair against my head. If he had it, did that mean I could see home again? I could listen to my music or look at my photos of Dad and David. My friends at school. I could reread our texts, or listen to my voicemails to hear Dad's voice again. "That's literally unbelievable."

\(^‿^)/

I frowned at the new emoji, "How do you have a copy?"

U. Magnus

My tentative excitement backpedaled. I heard my voice crack, "Ultra Magnus? You got a full, entire, copy of my phone from Ultra Magnus?" A small beep confirmed that this was indeed the case. My neck flushed hot. "He has my full phone."

\(^‿^;)/

There was no way Magnus hadn't combed through my phone. He probably had everything on it color-coded and arranged alphabetically. How long did he have a copy? Who gave it to him? "Why did he give you a copy of my phone?"

¯\_(゜-゜)_/¯

included with — language file

A language file? As in, the thing allowing everyone to talk to me? As in the thing that anyone who had talked to me had most likely gotten? I pinched the bridge of my nose, conscious of the visible embarrassment heating up my face. I didn't think I had anything embarrassing on my phone, or I really hoped I didn't. Who knew though, with all the dumb stuff I texted my friends or every cringey selfie I kept. I had memes saved on it too, like the nonsensical ones I couldn't even explain to my dad. They had seen all of those too?

"So you've gone through my texts. Tell me you didn't like, deep dive into the whole thing."

There was a very guilty silence.

"Has everyone been passing my phone around this whole time?" I asked, "Don't tell me. Please don't tell me that Optimus got a copy too. Bee! Has your literal war commander been through my phone?" My face burned. I listed off everyone, "Ratchet, Misdirect, Optimus, Magnus… you. Even Brainstorm and Perceptor? And nobody's said anything?" Bumblebee was enjoying my mounting horror, he had trilled along with every name I listed.

Still, the fact it had been saved outweighed the embarrassment, mostly. Maybe when I got back to the medbay I could ask Ratchet or Misdirect to put up my photos, so I could see home again. Or maybe we could play music. They had to have some sort of super-advanced alien speaker system we could use. The thought of being able to close my eyes and tune in with the music, pretending I was back at home, nearly made me tear up. I wondered what they would think of Earth music. I had a few songs I felt Misdirect might enjoy.

My excitement evaporated the moment something else occurred to me.

"Bee." I spoke frankly, "I went to the brig to talk to Ravage."

He let out a sharp chirp in surprise. I quickly waved it off, "I'm sure Magnus didn't say, but that's why I was in trouble. Look. Ravage talked to me. In English. He sent his stupid message through my phone." I swallowed. I could see Ravage's sneering face from behind the bars, he had looked at me like I was an inferior thing compared to him: that was certainly the attitude I sort of expected from someone forced to dig through my phone.

"If Ravage, god forbid, also made a copy of my phone. Would he have also…? Did he send…?" I dropped my voice to a whisper, "Bee. Do you think Ravage sent out a copy too? Do you think Megatron got a copy?"

Bumblebee's engine revved loud, mirth floated from him in a chorus of trills. I sat there speechless. The leaders of two warring factions of super-advanced-giant-sci-fi-alien-robots had probably gone through the entire contents of my phone. And Optimus had still wanted to help me? After seeing all that?

Bumblebee glided through a busy room and I leaned forward with urgency, smacking lightly on his dash to get his attention, "Was there anything weird? Tell me I didn't have anything weird on there."

He made a noise.

I grabbed two fistfuls of my hair, "What's that supposed to mean? ?"

He was silent.

"Bee!" I groaned, "What did you see?"

noticed one — thing. He was taking his sweet time. many text — messages about — someone called — a crush?

I pursed my lips.

what is crush?

"Nothing," I jabbed a finger at the screen, "And don't you dare look that up."There was a suspicious pause, the sort of thing that they seemed to do a lot around me. When Bumblebee responded, it was with a quirky hum. The sort of noise someone makes when they uncover something interesting. The bastard had looked it up.

affection for — Sarah?

Sarah is crush?

"Just a classmate, I swear that's all she is!" A very beautiful, charming classmate. If my face wasn't already a tomato, I may have blushed. Thank god for the preexisting embarrassment, because Bumblebee didn't need any more details as far as I was concerned. The screen started to display something but I turned away, hands up against the side of my face like blinders. "Nuh-uh, I'm not looking. Conversation privileges revoked."

Several long beats passed where I assumed he was trying to needle me for more details. It was nice to feel silly for once; he was easy to relax around. His beeping had a sing-song tone to it, but after what I imagined was several failed attempts to get me to turn, he suddenly grew silent. There was an urgent, serious, bout of beeping. The seat underneath me shook unexpectedly like he was shaking it to get my attention.

Bee's screen flashed: Urgent News

I sobered, "What's going on?"

bad news

survival in — jeopardy

need at once — full details — regarding:

…

Sarah ❤

I kicked the underside of his dash. Hard. Bumblebee swerved, humming merrily as he did.

It was that moment we ran something over.

It crunched underneath one of Bumblebee's tires and the whole cabin around me jumped. I flung my arms out, catching myself as we skidded, nearly cracking my skull on his dash. The screen flashed incoherent symbols. I had a feeling that the loud and aggressive beeps he made were probably less than family-friendly.

I spun in my seat to try and see what we had run over but he had no rear window. I looked out the passenger windows. No side mirrors. I looked at the door. No door handles.

I tapped on the dash, "You ok? What was that?"

ran over a ?

sharp!

ouch!

He made a grumble of a noise.

ok. all ok.

The door popped open and like a blur I was out, ready to accept any distraction that kept me from spilling even more personal details. Seriously, the bot had looked through my phone, I would think that was enough as it were. Lucky for me this hall was empty. I didn't need any more near-death experiences if someone chose to step on me, and no one sure as hell needed a 'language file' to talk to me with.

It was embarrassing to admit that the first thing that popped into my head was that we had run over an animal. I had been bracing for it, in fact. But the tiny crumbly white pile I saw down the hall was no animal, and I had to admit that it was unlikely there were opossums in outer space. Not a zero percent chance given the circumstances, but still probably, mostly, unlikely. I heard Bumblebee transform behind me and I jogged ahead. I assumed I had enough oxygen out here, he didn't seem worried at any rate.

The air smelled oily, not in a bad way, more like the smell of a car shop. There was something oddly nice about that mix of smells: rubber, metal, and grease. Out here it felt cooler than in Bumblebee's cabin. The air felt dry, with not a trace of humidity.

The pile of white shards was about no bigger than my outstretched hand. Glossy and smooth, the material looked familiar. I examined a shard, tracing my thumb along a rough broken edge. This was from Earth. I knew there had to be a decent number of things that came over with me, but I didn't expect to just find them lying around.

Bumblebee approached quickly behind me, and I shivered. It took every molecule of self-restraint to stand my ground. The tremors in the floor from his footsteps were an incredible thing. The floors didn't vibrate for my footsteps after all. It wasn't just because they were metal, I rather had a feeling that the floors of this ship were a whole different kind of 'solid' altogether. Being here felt much more like being on the rocks of a mountain peak or outlook after a hike. Where the rock was so solid and unyielding to your footsteps that it made concrete floors feel like squeaky wooden boards. It was a kind of solid that swallowed any and every move you made, like a void of silence beneath your sneakers. Of course for the Cybertronians, the material did respond. It was a tiny vibration as they walked, I realized, but in comparison to the silence of my own movements, this small trembling felt monumental.

Bumblebee beeped adamantly at me, jutting his large hand between me and the pile, the surprise had me snapped from my thoughts and toppling backward from my crouch and onto my butt.

"What was that for?"

He crouched by the pile now, shadowing me a little even though he stayed several feet away. He waved his hands wildly, beeping.

I took my best guess: "You don't want me to get close?"

He nodded.

"Why? You think it's dangerous?"

He shrugged.

"It's a broken coffee mug," I explained, "Should be fine."

He didn't seem very convinced.

"I promise to be very careful."

Finally, he seemed to settle. Still, when I reached for the small pile again he tensed up as if expecting the broken ceramic to snap up at me. I gingerly picked up a piece.

"See? It's fine—" I gasped loudly, flinching away.

I was scooped up immediately, cradled in the crook of a giant yellow arm. Bee's other hand had shifted, fingers had been replaced with what looked like a gun barrel, and he pointed it directly at the shards.

I laughed. A mask of sorts had fallen over his face at some point while snatching me, sheepishly it lifted from his face and he peeked at me. Slowly it folded back completely.

"I was only joking!" I held my hands out for inspection, "Just a joke!"

He beeped at me angrily. Leaning down, he shrugged me off his arm, dumping me onto the floor. He grumpily moved around the tiny pile, further away from me.

I pushed myself back up, snickering, "You don't get to be upset, not after all that snooping you did." He made an indignant noise.

I crouched to flip over a large piece and I saw what had to be a broken piece of text. I flipped over more pieces, trying to line up the text. "World's Best…"

Bumblebee touched the pile with a finger and slid a few pieces around. I swatted at his hand, "You're messing it up."

I read aloud, "World's Best Boss?" I grimaced. Bumblebee made a noise that probably meant: Please explain immediately, thank you.

"Alright, you're not going to believe this, but my dad's office has this stupid lucky mug they've had around for years. And this is it, right here. Dad's been talking about it my whole life, it's haunted my childhood," I threw my hands up, nearly losing my balance, "And now it's followed me here, in space, on an alien ship."

He looked at me. Apparently I wasn't explaining well. He was beeping now, gesturing to me again.

"You're asking why I don't like it?"

Bumblebee shook his head. He pointed at the broken pieces.

"You're asking why it's broken? We ran it over."

Bumblebee looked exasperated. He tapped the side of his head and from his eyes shot a blue projection onto the floor. I frowned. Of course they could shoot projections from their eyes. What couldn't they do?

He was projecting words and I stood to read properly: it's lucky?

"Can't be that lucky. It got sent into space and then got run over."

why a — coffee mug?

I gave a very weary sigh. "It's this ongoing joke at Dad's work. Back when my dad became the new team lead they got him this mug—actually, before that I should say that my dad worked for this other company first. It got bought out by his current one and when that happened his department merged with another. They interviewed for a new team lead and Dad got it. The old team lead is this guy named Roberts, so the whole team got Dad and Roberts each a coffee mug. It was kind of done to show there was no ill will with the team-lead change. Dad said that the position doesn't even get a different pay raise. Anyway, yeah, when Roberts stepped down they got him a mug—this mug—that says 'World's Best Boss' and they got my Dad a mug that says 'World's Second Best Boss.' Kinda like making fun of the situation. Well anyway, apparently they all thought this was so hilarious that they decided to keep it around like a weird office mascot. One year it got on the company Christmas letter, somehow? And another time someone took it with them to Florida when they went on vacation. They sent the group this photo of the mug in an airport bin and I swear to god Bee, they all lost it. Dad has it printed out above his desk at home."

Bumblebee was looking at me blankly. "And it gets even worse. Dad said someone suggested getting matching t-shirts and I'm afraid they're actually going to do it because you know Dad will make me wear one too." I jabbed my chest, "I'm going to have to wear a t-shirt with a mug on it, Bee. He'll probably make us wear it for our Christmas photo. How do I live that down? How do I explain that to anyone?"

Bumblebee gestured to the floor and only then did I realize he had been trying to say something this entire time.

meant to ask — why a coffee — mug was a part — of accident

…

but thanks — for the story

Embarrassment crept up my neck again. "Ah. Right. Um. I think it was just sent over like everything else, just random."

random?

"Stuff just kinda got zapped for no reason, including me. You didn't know?"

I think might — have heard

"You think?" I asked, "Was this not a huge deal?"

He shrugged.

everyone got — report about — quantum — accident. He pointed to himself. did not know — details until — Swerve told

"Swerve told you?"

He shrugged.

Misdirect wouldn't be happy about that. "I have to ask, it seems like they were keeping this whole thing pretty hushed at first. But how did they explain all the little objects from Earth being here?"

He shrugged.

"What else have people found? Do you know?"

He shrugged.

"But you've noticed stuff, right?"

He shrugged.

"...you're not sure?"

He shrugged.

I squinted, "Were you even looking, at all?"

Enthusiastically he shook his head no. The 'wings' on his back then drooped: broke the lucky — mug

I sighed. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure they'll find it hilarious that it even got here." I stood with a stretch.

Bumblebee stayed crouched. Small extensions slid from two of his fingertips and as if with tweezers he began to gingerly pick up the shards.

"What are you doing?" I asked. He only shrugged again.

When he had collected them all, he transformed. Once again we were off down the halls. We talked a little bit more, but not as much. I think he could tell I was starting to get frazzled. Safe to say I was alright going back to the medbay. I needed Misdirect's help: trying to hold everything in my head was going to make me pop, and no one on Earth would benefit if I shut down. I picked at my nails. We could go over what I'd say to Optimus. My biggest fear was that the commander wouldn't want to hear a word from me due to the Ravage incident. Maybe Misdirect could help me make a convincing argument, and an apology. Maybe Optimus would have some sympathy for Earth despite my actions.

Bumblebee reassured me that the drive to the medbay would still take some time, so I settled in. I had a strong feeling he was stalling and making the drive longer. It wasn't like I'd be able to notice any detours or realize if we had been driving in circles.

But the cabin was comfortable and warm, the rumble of the engine was hypnotic and I felt myself drifting off.

A loud beeping and seat-shaking woke me up just in time to hear the squeal of Bee's brakes. I was thrown against the door. I thought we had run into something else from Earth, but Bumblebee wasn't stopping, instead, he had launched into a U-turn. We shot off down the hall back the way we had come.

"Bee?" I was both asking what he was doing and complaining that he was doing it. I unpeeled myself from the door and settled uneasily back into the seat wishing more than ever for a seatbelt.

Megatron — contacting Ark

OP requests you — at the bridge.

"Megatron's what now?"

Bee was swerving through rooms as confidently as a runner skirting around obstacles on a track. I'm sure he had full control, but it sure didn't feel that way as an occupant experiencing these hairpin turns with a front-row seat to all the very solid-looking walls he was narrowly avoiding smashing into.

Megatron — requesting — negotiation

"OP means Optimus?" I was actively pressing my foot into his very nice carpeted floor as if to hit the brakes. There were no brakes. "He wants me there? For what?" I nearly squeaked that last part. Bumblebee didn't respond. "If that silence was meant to be another shrug from you, I'm going to lose it." Several heart emojis popped up on the screen.

I flinched as we narrowly avoided another certain death collision, the brakes squealed, his back end drifted, and we spun all the way around before shooting backward just as a pair of doors slid open behind us. He rolled to a halt inside this new small room, the doors closed in front of us and I felt the unmistakable feeling of accelerating upwards. Giant alien robot elevator?

I once again unpeeled myself from where I had been flattened against his vehicle door, "Optimus won't want me to talk to him, right? To Megatron?"

He made a noise as if I had asked something silly.

"Why does he want me all of a sudden?" Bumblebee displayed another shrugging emoji. He didn't know.

But I knew, didn't I? Magnus had followed through on his word. My throat felt dry. Was Optimus angry at me? Was he calling me there to show me the real consequences of my actions?

I gripped the seat, bracing myself for the elevator doors to open.