CHAPTER TWO
Metroplex, above Earth
“Hey, old timer. Was wondering when you were gonna come out of hiding.”
Kup shot a glare at Springer as he stepped into Metroplex’s command center. The two of them were the only ones in the room, as Elita-One and the other Earthforce commanders were preoccupied with other errands.
“Don’t push it, lad,” the green Autobot veteran grumbled as he pulled up a nearby chair and threw himself down onto it. “I’m only out here because that new kid — that Wheelie bot — wouldn’t stop pestering me about it.”
Springer smiled ruefully. Ever since Kup had been rescued from Planet X, along with the Crusadercons, the old Autobot had shut himself inside a habitation suite to “recover,” though Springer knew the old timer well enough to know that there was not anything physically wrong with him; it was just an excuse for Kup to not have to talk to him.
“I like this Wheelie already, if he can get a stubborn mech like you to do something.” Springer stepped to stand in front of Kup, folding his arms over his wide chest. “So… want to explain why you pulled off that stunt with Guzzle and the space bridge?”
“I was trying to get him away from everyone,” Kup said, lowering his head. “I know I could’ve just thrown him through the space bridge and not take myself with him… but knowing him, he probably would have found his way back and I didn’t want that biting me in the tailpipe. Considering it was just me he wanted, I thought it was the best option for everyone.”
Springer frowned. “You know, if I had pulled something like that off, you would have chewed my afterburner off for it. And you would have been right in doing so.”
Kup scowled. “Yeah? You gonna lecture me, then?”
“Under better circumstances, I probably would. But given every thing that has happened, along with the current situation, I’m not going to waste time with that, especially since we both know that you know better.” Springer’s expression turned soft along with his tone. “Just promise me that you’ll talk with me before you make any decisions like that, all right?”
Kup let his own faceplate rest. “No more secrets?”
Springer shook his head. “I don’t have any more to tell you anyway.”
This seemed to make Kup flinch slightly and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Consider yourself lucky, then,” he muttered. “Some of us can’t say the same.”
Springer raised an optic ridge. “Anything I should know about?”
Kup looked as if he was about to say something but seemed to think twice about it. “Time and place, lad,” he said instead. “There are things I’ve been meaning to tell ya, but… I’d rather wait until things have settled before I overload your processor with them.”
As much as Springer wanted to, he did not press the matter further and decided to change the subject. “Anyway… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the Wreckers.”
Kup looked at him. “What about them?”
“There’s only a handful of us left. You, me, the Jumpstarters, Broadside says he’s open to returning. But Sandstorm and Whirl have been disgraced, Roadbuster and Impactor are dead… as well as all of the bots I’ve recruited since the war ended.”
“What about Bulkhead? He’s still around, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but I’m doubtful that he’ll be willing to return,” Springer said. “Point is, we’re not the group we used to be. We’re not the heroes that bots like Ironfist would look up to and document our every move. We’re a shell of our former selves.”
“That’s not saying much,” Kup grunted. “If you ask me, we were never that great to begin with.”
Springer sighed. “I knew you would say something like that. But I’d say there’s still some value to the name. We got things done, didn’t we? Things that other Autobots were never brave enough to do.”
Kup narrowed his optics at the Triple Changer. “Where are you going with this, lad?”
“I think its time the Wreckers had one last outing. One last mission. Something to be proud of; something that will be remembered for generations to come.”
“I take it you have something in mind.”
Springer slammed his fists together, a hint of a cocky grin crossing his features. “We’re going to infiltrate Trypticon.”
Kup just stared at him for a moment, looking as if he was trying to figure out if he had heard the younger Autobot correctly. “Sounds like you’re already set on doing this,” he said quietly.
Springer chuckled. “Am I that transparent?”
“Does Elita know about this? Does Prime know?”
“What do you think?”
Kup let out a sigh as he stood up, stretching his arms as his joints popped back into place. “So… who do you want me to recruit?”
* * *
“I’m glad you were able to make it, Punch. We could use any help we can get.”
“Don’t mention it, Elita,” Punch said as he stepped out of Metroplex’s space bridge. “I figure my skills are more useful here than on Cybertron. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like all of the Decepticons are hanging out here.”
Elita-One grimaced. “Indeed. Each day, we’ve been detecting more and more Decepticons answering Megatron’s call and coming here. Fortunately, they haven’t made any moves as of yet, but knowing them….”
“I hear ya.” Punch smirked behind his mouthplate. “Trust me, I’ve been in their ranks long enough to get a gist on how they operate.”
“Which is probably why Optimus asked for your presence,” Elita said. “He’s down on Earth at the moment; once he gets back, he’ll brief you on what he wants done.”
“Great,” Punch replied. “I’m looking forward to it.”
With that, the yellow-and-blue bot bid his farewell to Elita and departed from the space bridge chamber. As he made his way down the hallway, he noticed a familiar blueish-green old bot walking in his direction. Recognizing them as the veteran Autobot Kup, Punch raised a hand to his helm in a respectful salute.
“Sir,” he greeted.
“Kid,” Kup replied as he walked up to Punch and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him into an adjacent room.
“Hey, what the he—” Punch started to say only for Kup to cover his faceplate with his hand.
“Quiet,” Kup hissed, glancing around furtively. “Elita didn’t follow you, did she?”
“No?” Punch grabbed Kup’s hand and pushed it away from his face. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you normally greet people like this?”
“Sorry; my skills are rusty and I haven’t needed to recruit bots without the higher-ups knowing. Never been my style. Would usually have someone like Prowl covering for me.”
“Recruit bots…?” Punch shook his head, his spark filling with dread. “Oh god, please don’t tell me this is what I think it is—”
“I’ll cut straight to the chase: Springer wants you in his Wreckers.”
“I knew it!” Punch threw his arms up, groaning in exasperation. “Every time I think I’m out, you guys drag me back in again.”
“I know you were part of Impactor’s little gang,” Kup said. “Springer isn’t anything like him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It doesn’t matter who’s leading the team,” Punch retorted. “The Wreckers have always had a reputation for ridiculously high mortality rates. I’ve seen the numbers.”
“Those numbers tend to be exaggerated,” Kup muttered. “But you are correct in that we… don’t have the best survival track record. If you want to back out, you can. Just say the word and I’ll let you be on your way.”
Punch was about to say the word, but there was one question nagging at his mind. He tried to ignore it, but when he spoke he couldn’t help but let it out. “Why does Springer even want me?”
“Because we’re going to sneak into Trypticon.”
With this response, everything seemed to slide into place. Punch fell silent for a moment, his thoughts warring with themselves as they had a tendency to do. He had had this conversation before, with Impactor, and he still wished he had said “No” back then. He still had a chance to say it. He could say it and keep on living his life, never regretting his decision.
Instead, he decided to be an idiot and say, “I’m in.”
* * *
“What’s my time?”
“12.29 seconds.”
Whirl lowered his gun, glaring at the smoking remains of the practice targets lying in front of him. “Damn. Last time it was 12.27. I’m losing my touch.”
“Hey, it’s better than any record I’ve set for myself, if that makes you feel better,” said Topspin. He stood with his brother Twin Twist as they watched Whirl take his anger out on the shooting range that the ex-Wrecker had set up for himself in one of Metroplex’s storage warehouses.
“It doesn’t, Zombiespin,” Whirl replied, taking his gun apart to examine its internals. “Nothing you say ever makes me feel better.”
“You seem to have a lot of pent-up rage,” Twin Twist pointed out. “More than usual, I mean. What’s up with that?”
“Take your pick: The quest I just spent a good year of my life on turned out to be a waste; my depth perception is more off than usual today; and I can’t get this freaking piece out with my freaking claws.” Whirl threw the disassembled gun aside and reached over to his nearby weapons rack to select a new one. “So, yeah, it’s one of those things.”
The two Jumpstarters exchanged a glance with each other. Topspin shook his head while Twin Twist shrugged. The latter then looked back to Whirl and said, “Have you talked with Springer lately?”
“Why the hell would I talk to him?” Whirl snapped.
“Because he’s here and you’re here. And you’re both Wreckers.”
“I’m not a Wrecker,” Whirl growled. “Not anymore. As long as Springer still functions, I will never be considered one.”
“What did you do to get kicked off again?” asked Topspin.
Whirl stopped whatever he was doing and turned to focus his single yellow optic on the two brothers. “That’s right,” he said quietly. “You wouldn’t know. ‘Cos you were dead.”
“Yeah, so fill us in,” said Twin Twist.
Whirl seemed to consider it for a moment only to abruptly turn away. “No. It’s none of your business.”
Twin Twist opened his mouth to stay something when Topspin put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think we should just tell him why we’re here?” the latter whispered.
“I don’t know how he’ll react, though,” Twin Twist whispered back. “He might think we’re pulling a prank on him or something.”
“Maybe we should ask Springer to tell him himself—”
“You guys do know that I can hear you, right?” Whirl said.
Topspin turned to face Whirl, ignoring the warning look his brother was giving him. “Your funeral,” Twin Twist mouthed to him.
Clearing his vocal processor, Topspin said, “Springer wants you back in the Wreckers.”
At this, Whirl’s entire body froze up. For a moment, Topspin thought he had went into stasis lock or something until the blue helicopter quietly spoke. “What did you say?”
“Springer wants to give you one last chance to prove yourself.” Topspin wasn’t sure if he was making up that part or not; Springer hadn’t said as much when he had sent the two Jumpstarters to recruit Whirl. Of course, not knowing what Whirl had done to get kicked out of the Wreckers in the first place, Topspin didn’t know if Whirl was even deserving of a second chance (or third or fourth).
“Yeah,” Twin Twist butted in. “He thinks you’re just the right bot for the mission we’re about to go on.”
“He said that?” Whirl asked, his voice still uncharacteristically quiet. “Springer said that?”
“More or less,” Topspin said. “We’re paraphrasing, of course. You know how he likes to use lots of words when getting people hyped for a mission.”
Whirl slowly turned around to face the two Jumpstarters, his single yellow optic regarding them carefully. Both Topspin and Twin Twist tensed, unsure how the blue helicopter was going to respond.
Raising the gun he was holding and cocking it, Whirl said, “When do we leave?”
* * *
Sandstorm stared at Springer from the confines of his cell. Shortly after Impactor’s Wreckers had joined the Earthforce, and after Impactor had pulled his sacrificial stunt, Sandstorm had been thrown into Metroplex’s brig until his fate could be decided. Clearly his actions back on Paradron, where he had murdered fellow Autobots such as Skram, were still weighing on everyone’s minds.
Despite this, Springer had just asked him to rejoin the Wreckers and Sandstorm wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly or if Springer had just lost the plot.
“Why are you asking me?” Sandstorm asked after a long moment of silence.
“Honestly?” Springer replied. “Because I know Bulkhead will say no and probably tattle to Prime or Elita, which I can’t exactly have.”
“Ah. So now you’re the one breaking the rules. I always thought that was more Impactor’s thing.”
“He always was a bad influence,” Springer said. “Though I’d say I’m more discreet at breaking rules than he ever was.”
“So you’re gonna release me? Just like that?”
Springer shook his head. “Don’t think for a minute that you’re gonna have complete freedom of movement. Kup and I will be watching your every move and if I suspect for even a second, I’ll have Whirl blast your head off.”
Sandstorm’s optics went wide. “You’re bringing Whirl back as well? Wow… your standards have really slipped, haven’t they?”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Springer pressed the control panel to Sandstorm’s cell, causing the ray shield separating them to dissipate. “Although frankly, I’d say our standards have been non-existent to begin with.”
“Fair enough,” Sandstorm said as he stepped out of his cell. “So, how are you going to sneak me out without Elita or anyone noticing?”
Springer grinned. “I’m glad you asked.”
He then reeled his fist back and threw it into Sandstorm’s face. The last thing the orange Triple Changer saw before his systems went offline was the floor as he fell face-first towards it.
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