Chapter Text
Scrap.
Scrap!
Scrappity scrap!
Yellow plated pedes thundered along the lush forest floor, spraying dirt and grass in all directions as a frantic minibot hurried through between the trees. Not caring he got whipped in the face by overhanging branches, all that mattered was that the fragment was safe with him. He clenched said fragment in his hand, head ducked down low as the hum of an engine roared high above. Baby blue optics flicked in all directions for hidden signs of danger. Bumblebee panted heavily, his systems venting in exhaustion.
He skidded to a stop, high above was a canopy of leaves so thick the sun barely pierced through it. Bee leaned against the aged trunk, silent and hopeful that the Cons would lose interest and leave.
The engine’s hum increased as it approached his location. In a split second, it suddenly roared to life and took off. The hum grew quieter as the pursuer flew further away. Bee cautiously peered out from his hiding spot, signs of a purple and white flier were absent. He heaved a breath of relief.
“Thank Primus…” he muttered to himself. Blitzwing was ruthlessly relentless when he wanted to be.
Yes, technically, he shouldn’t have goaded the insane triple changer into chasing him. In reality, Bee’s teammates were busy dealing with both Lugnut and Megatron, completely oblivious to Blitzwing sneaking up behind to freeze them solid. In Bee’s line of rationale, he bought them time to throw off the other two.
Whether his team was happy about the diversion or not, Bee was about to find out right about-
“Bumblebee!” His comlink crackled to life. “Where are you?”
Bee grimaced slightly at Optimus’ frantic but firm tone. “I’m fine, Boss Bot, just hiding in the forest.”
“Alright. Rendezvous at the base as soon as you can. Prime out.”
Perhaps not too upset. Bumblebee hefted himself upright, the glowing fragment tingled in his hand, he gritted himself to be prepared to be grilled by a certain Boss Bot and medic. Trudging silently along the forest line until he came upon an opening into the city of Detroit, he scurried out of the lush clearing and transformed mid-step as he did so, tearing through the streets.
In no time at all, the old factory that served as the Autobot’s home base came into view. Several bots were out and about at the front entrance. Bee revved his engine, pushing himself to go faster than ever as to not keep them waiting. Rubber squealed and burned on the paved road, the group grew larger as he got closer. Larger and larger until Bee realized he was coming in too hot.
He pulled back on the brakes to come to a halt. His alt mode sputtered and jerked around, hurtling so fast that even Bee himself couldn’t keep up with it.
When it seemed like he was about to have an unpleasant crash, Bee squealed to an abrupt stop, his alt tipped over on its front wheels. It landed back down with a dull clang. He transformed on the spot, standing up straight with a nervous smile.
“Bumblebee, are you hurt?” Optimus asked, his frustration dissipated the moment their youngest crew member transformed.
“I’m as fine as I can be,” Bee replied a bit cheekily, “Look, I got the fragment all safe and sound.”
He held out the AllSpark piece for Optimus to examine. He nodded in approval and accepted it, hand clenched around it as if it was going to vanish at any moment. He looked up at Bumblebee, lips turned down.
“That was an incredibly reckless thing you did back there. You, all of us, know better than to provoke Blitzwing like that.”
“But it bought you guys time, didn’t it? All I did was lead him away.” Bee shot back a little petulantly.
“It did but still, it’s dangerous to take on a Decepticon all on your own like that.” Optimus said with an air of finality.
He turned and walked back inside, hand up close to continue examining the fragment, his faceplates illuminated by its glow. Bee’s spark pulsed with a pang, the frown remained present on Optimus’ expression.
“C’mere kid.” A blunt object clanged lightly on the back of Bee’s helm. No time to react as a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him inside.
“Hey! Watch where you’re throwing that dang wrench, and Doc, I’m fine!” Bee protested, persistently fighting against Ratchet’s weary but firm hand.
“I know exactly what I’m doing with my wrench and I’d like to see you try kid,” Ratchet said grumpily, “I’m this crew’s medical officer, and when I say you need a check-up, yer getting a check-up, whether you like it or not.”
The bickering continued even beyond the doors of the medical bay.
Once Ratchet finally wrestled a protesting Bumblebee onto the examination berth, he tinkered around the room for the necessary tools while Bee sat there with a growing pout on his faceplates. It happened every single time, once he was even in a lick of danger, the doc always dragged him in here for a check-up. He wasn’t sure why Ratchet was so insistent but all Bee got out of this was annoyance and time wasted.
Ratchet muttered to himself while supplies ruffled and clattered around his hands. This youngling, this youngling, was for sure going to be the death of him. A couple phrases escaped his field of privacy and reached said youngling’s audio receptors. Something about ‘spark-damn reckless younglings’ and ‘kids these days’.
“Aww, I didn’t know you cared so much Doc,” Bee said with a teasing grin. He absently kicked his pedes around, the motions soothing him.
“Now, kid, don’t get too sappy on me.” Ratchet waved a hand dismissively, though it was half-sparked as he had a tiny grin. He made a little ‘hah’ once he finally found a mini ion-wrench, hung on a hook at the back.
“Arms out,” Ratchet commanded as he approached Bee, “C’mon kid, you know I can only work if you have them out.”
Bee sighed in defeat and held both of his arms out, side to side. His frame jostled and protested at the posture. He winced in discomfort and threw Ratchet a pleading glance over his shoulder.
“Please be quick. My frame always gets twitchy whenever I do this.”
“It’s ‘cause yer a minibot, these kinda of frames are more prone to damage than bigger ones,” Ratchet said absently, having said this many times before. He carefully directed the mini ion-wrench between the shoulder and back-plate. He twisted it slightly and Bee jolted in discomfort.
“Every time, Doc…”
“Sorry, but I gotta know yer in working order.” Ratchet dismissed the complaint. “Besides, it’s…”
He stopped, train of thought screeching to a halt. He always hated these kinds of thoughts. They’ve been niggling at him since Bee transitioned out of his late-youngling stage some time ago. And to be frank, Ratchet would rather not think about it at all. He was pulled out of it by someone attempting to get his attention.
“It’s what?” Bee repeated, curiosity rapidly grew within.
“Well… er…” Ratchet fumbled with his words. “It’s due time for you to… upgrade, anyway.”
“Upgrade?!” Bee burst out of excitement. “Oh yeah, my spark day was a while ago. When do we get the parts?”
“Whenever we get them shipped from Cybertron.” Ratchet replied quickly, not wanting too many questions. Or explain exactly what kind of parts Bee needed for a new frame.
How much longer can I keep this up? Ratchet thought wearily, eyeing curiously mismatched wires and circuitry.
An hour later…
“Aannnd, that’s it kid, yer a clean bill of health,” Ratchet announced tiredly, removing his scope lens and rubbing his faceplates.
Bee immediately hopped off the examination berth, stretching and cracking his joints. He turned on the spot in a half bow.
“It was an honor to be your patient again.” His cheeky statement was met with a huge wrench appearing in Ratchet’s hand and threatening to throw it.
“And I’d better not see you in here again anytime soon!” Ratchet hollered after a blur of yellow. He put the wrench down with a groan. “Primus…”
Shakily standing up, he clenched his hands to will the shakiness away, Ratchet made his way to his private office deeper within the medical bay. Slumping into the comfy chair, he crossed his arms and deeply sighed. Wandering optics lead him to the large monitor in front of him. Ratchet automatically recounted the code given to him in case of an emergency, or something urgent.
“Hrm…” Ratchet mumbled, shaking his head.
Dim lights flickered eerily in the equally dark command room, monotonous dripping filtered out the tension that gradually thickened with every passing klik. The central computer obnoxiously beeped out the last known location of an AllSpark fragment.
That the Autobots now had in their hands.
A low growl responded to the beeping. A heavy hand slammed the monitor and silenced it for the time being. Megatron didn’t immediately remove it, retaining a slightly strained posture at the echoing reminder of his failure.
“I am surrounded…” Megatron began slowly, the growl deepening, “by idiots.”
The two mechs twitched uncomfortably behind him. If they felt the danger in the tone, they didn’t show it.
“This little repair crew can hardly be called warriors, yet…” Circuitry crackled and buzzed when Megatron removed his hand, holding it up in a tight ball. “And yet, we are outmaneuvered by them time and time again.”
“Lord Megatron,” Blitzwing said, faceplates twitching as if on the verge of switching, “zat little Autovot waz being annoying. He even had ze AllSpark fragment.”
“I care not if some bot is being annoying on the field, fool,” Megatron hissed out, crimson red optics flared dangerously, “I do not enjoy wasting time and energy for something so irrelevant. We would have succeeded in gaining a fragment if we had taken their little crew out of commission, which your ice cannons would have been useful Blitzwing, then all we had to do was corner the little Autobot and take it.”
“My apologiez, Lord Megatron,” Blitzwing bowed his head down to appease the warlord’s anger.
Back to his soldiers, Megatron was uncomfortably silent for a few kliks. Systems venting and working overtime to cool the anger burning within him. His right arm shifted, its mounted cannon heavier, begging to unleash itself on those who deserved it.
“Go, make yourself useful somewhere else.” Megatron said softly, the command sharp as a blade in the air. “I do not want to be in your presence until I am calm again.”
It took little time to hear heavy footsteps scampering off, a quiet, barely accented voice muttering in thanks. One other remained.
“Leave me be, I wish to be alone.” Megatron cut off Lugnut’s queries and then too, another set of heavy footsteps left the command room. The door smoothly slid shut with a distinct click.
A long, rumbling vent left his lips, internal systems toiled about inside. It wasn’t what occurred today that threw him into such an irritable mood. A memory, one he hated thinking about, despite its persistent presence on… certain days. It roused emotions and a disgusting feeling to the surface as soon as Megatron dared to touch upon it.
He’d never had his own spark day. Like his kin, he was constructed during a time on Cybertron when one’s alt mode determined their function. Never knew his spark day, didn’t celebrate it, didn’t bother at all. Which then, to the surprise of those in his inner circle, Megatron mated and then sparked his own creation. He’d been secretly, overtly enjoyed about the prospect of something cherished in this harsh and cruel universe.
Harsh and cruel indeed. His sparkling’s spark day passed not too long ago. Megatron scarcely wondered whether his sparkling was still online and functional.
His spark pulsed in a pain he found indescribable. A hand thumped on his chestplate, almost as if in silent promise.
Neon White, the name still stung Megatron even after all this time, why does the universe make it difficult to forget you?