Transformers Regenerated: Tales - The Burden of Death

THE BURDEN OF DEATH

Semper Tyrannis, Cycle 9187

“…then I pointed my gun at him and bam! Straight between the eyes. You should have seen it.”

“Yes, Triggerhappy, I saw it. I was there.” Slugslinger scowled slightly as he walked down the corridors of the Semper Tyrannis with his two companions. “And I had more kills than you did.”

Triggerhappy scoffed. “As if. You may have fired your gun more times than me, but I still had the most hits.”

“Bah, I had you guys both beat!” Misfire grinned as he slung his arms over the other two’s shoulders, which they quickly shrugged off. “I hit pretty much everything I shot at!”

Slugslinger rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and how many of those things were your actual targets?”

Misfire’s grin faltered but only for a brief moment. “At least a good ninety percent of them. Okay, maybe eighty percent. Seventy-five maybe.”

“Try zero,” Triggerhappy snapped. “Honestly, if even your Targetmaster partner can’t improve your aim, then what hope do you….”

He trailed off at the sound of heavy footsteps coming from behind the three Decepticons. The other two heard it as well and the trio quietly stepped aside as a tall, massive mech in green and purple armor plating lumbered past them. The larger Decepticon did not even so much as glance at them as he walked past them. As soon as he had turned a corner and was well out of range for his audio receptors to pick up their voices, Triggerhappy slowly turned to look at the others.

“I’m not the only one who feels weirded out by having him on board, am I?”

Misfire shook his head. “Nope. I’m right there with you.”

“For once, I agree,” Slugslinger muttered. “At least we didn’t get stuck with someone like Overlord or whatshisface. Killmaster. The one with the wand.”

“Yeah,” Triggerhappy agreed. “I still don’t get the Terrorcons’ obsession with him though. They’re practically this ship’s local Sixshot Fan Club.”

“The Terrorcons?”

“You know, Hun-Gurrr’s little gang? They call themselves that to sound badass and cool, even they’re really just gross and disgusting. I swear, you can smell Blot from halfway across the ship. Although….” Triggerhappy paused for a moment. “My olfactory sensors haven’t been acting up much as of late. Maybe he’s finally cleaned himself up.”

Misfire rubbed his neck. “I dunno, I haven’t seen any of those losers around lately. Did we leave them behind at our last stop?”

Slugslinger grunted as he continued walking down the corridor. “Who cares? If you ask me, I’d say we’re a lot better off without them.”

*  *  *

“I should let you know,” Scorponok said as he sat in his seat within his personal command chamber, “that this mission is entirely optional.”

Sixshot stared at his commanding officer, his white faceplate devoid of expression. “Why call me in, then? You know what I am supposed to be used for. In and out. One and done.”

“Yes, I am well aware. However, I understand that Hun-Gurrr’s unit—the Terrorcons, as they call themselves—have been rather… attached to you ever since you joined my crew. I was under the impression that, since you tolerated their presence, they were of some importance to you.”

“Absolutely not, sir,” Sixshot said firmly. “I couldn’t care less about them.”

“I figured that,” Scorponok said. “And were they anyone else, I would have written them off as expandable troopers who are not worth going back for.”

“Have they gone missing?”

“Yes. They were sent on a reconnaissance mission to Mumu-Obscura, in the Eigerson-48 system. They have failed to report back and, based on recent reports, I fear they may have been captured.”

“And that is a problem because…?”

Scorponok leaned forward over his desk, bringing his hands together. “The five of them have recently received… modifications to their body-frames. Modifications that may have significant payoff if all goes to plan. If they were to end up in the hands of the Autobots, it would provide a major blow to our war efforts.”

Sixshot was tempted to request more elaboration, but something in Scorponok’s tone suggested that what he was discussing was classified information—something privy only to members of High Command. It was only in rare circumstances that members of the Warriors Elite such as himself was given access to such information, and the fact that Scorponok was not presenting it up front told him that this was not one of those cases.

In the end, he decided it didn’t really matter.

“Why do you say it’s optional, then?” he instead asked.

“Because, ideally, I want you to retrieve them and bring them back here in one piece,” Scorponok said. “However, if that is not something you wish to exert energy on, then I will instead have you raze the planet of Mumu-Obscura to ensure their destruction… and that of their captors. The choice, ultimately, is up to you.”

It only took Sixshot less of a moment to respond. “I’ll see what I can do.”

*  *  *

The Semper Tyrannis had dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the Eigerson-48 system, allowing Sixshot to travel there from the ship in his spacecraft mode. As he made his way towards the planet, he allowed his thoughts to drift, something he only allowed during quiet moments such as this.

He had already decided he would search for the Terrorcons and rescue them, and he still was not sure why. They meant nothing to him, just like none of his crewmates meant anything to him, and yet…

Among the Decepticons, Sixshot had few friends. In fact, he could count them all on a single servo. Even using the word “friend” was stretching the definition, but Hun-Gurrr and his band of so-called Terrorcons were truly the only ones among the Decepticons that regarded Sixshot with anything other than abject terror, or saw him as something other than a living weapon. Instead, they practically worshiped him, seeing him as something of an idol; the model for what the “perfect Decepticon” should be.

Sixshot did not see himself as such. He saw himself much the same way as his superiors did: a living, walking weapon that brought destruction everywhere he went.

There had been a time, long ago, where he had been something other than that; a time before he had taken on the name Sixshot and learned the art of transformation from the Six Clan. In those days, he could say he had friends. People he cared about, and those who cared for him in turn. But those days were long gone. This was all he was now. All he had.

He wondered if his subconscious longing for camaraderie was a weakness. If perhaps it would be better for him to simply raze the planet and kill the Terrorcons just so he could be done with them. Then again, if Scorponok was indeed planning something with the Terrorcons, then it meant that they still had some value to the Decepticons and he would be a fool to throw them away simply for the sake of satisfying his own doubts. Even if Scorponok had given him permission to do just that.

He pushed these thoughts aside as he closed in on the planet of Mumu-Obscura, realizing that something was off. All records indicated that Mumu-Obscura was a populated world with a relatively bustling civilization, with plenty of resources to plunder. However, the planet that was now within range of his visual scanners appeared to be nothing more than a desolate wasteland on the surface. As if the planet had already been razed by the Decepticons before being cyber-formed.

If whoever had captured the Terrorcons were the ones responsible for this… then they were not Autobots. For as little as Sixshot thought of them, he knew that they were no capable of such devastation. They were far too weak and sentimental for that. If anything, this looked to be the work of one of the other Warriors Elite. Was Overlord behind this, perhaps? Black Shadow, even?

As he descended through the planet’s atmosphere, Sixshot picked up on five spark signatures. No doubt those of the Terrorcons, he thought. Curiously, he detected no others, which suggested that their captors were not even Cybertronian at all. But then who were they….?

Before long, Sixshot found the five Terrorcons stranded in the middle of a barren, rocky field. They appeared to be in restraints but still functioning. As he drew closer, he saw them look up at him and watched as their expressions became one of glee and elation.

Wonderful.

“It’s him!” he picked up Cutthroat saying. “It’s Sixshot! He’s come to rescue us!”

“I knew he’d come through for us,” said Sinnertwin. “Sixshot would never leave us behind.”

Sixshot wondered if he should just obliterate them now and be done with it. He restrained himself as he swooped in and transformed to his robot mode, landing before the five Terrorcons.

“Sixshot!” their leader Hun-Gurrr exclaimed. “Quickly! Release us from these constraints before he gets back.”

Sixshot narrowed his optics. “Before who gets back?”

“Ah. Finally. You are here.”

Drawing his guns, Sixshot turned on his heel and pointed his weapons at a tall, black figure standing in front of him. Whatever it was, it was certainly not Cybertronian but was nonetheless mechanical in danger, clad in sleek black armor with a red visor glowing in the center of its face.

“I have been waiting for you, Sixshot,” the strange being said, its voice almost monotonic.

“And just who the hell are you?” Sixshot demanded, keeping his guns trained on the machine.

“I am the Deathbringer.”

Sixshot heard Rippersnapper hiss under his breath. “Aw, man. That name is way more badass than ‘Terrorcon’—”

“Quiet,” Hun-Gurrr snapped at him.

Sixshot ignored them all as he focused on the Deathbringer. “Why have you come to this planet, and what interest do you have in these five?”

“The answer to both are one and the same: To lure you here.”

“Lure me?”

“Correct,” the Deathbringer intoned. “Your actions are known throughout the galaxy, Sixshot. Many worlds have fallen because of your actions. You have left nothing but devastation in your wake.”

“Ah,” Sixshot said. “Let me guess, you want payback.”

“Initially, yes. I was created by a race of beings whose world you destroyed many years ago. I was given the objective of hunting down and destroying you in order to bring about their retribution. However, as I studied your actions in order to understand how best to combat you, my directive was overwritten by an overwhelming sense of… respect.”

Sixshot raised an optic ridge at this, caught off-guard by the machine’s last word. “Respect?”

“Correct.” The Deathbringer took a step towards Sixshot, undeterred by the fact that the Decepticon’s guns were still trained on him. “My creators programmed me to study and mimic many great warriors from their history, but they did not foresee that I would come to regard you as a great warrior as well. To them, you were nothing more but a heartless machine made only for destruction. But to me, you were more than that.”

The Deathbringer extended an arm, motioning to the five Terrorcons. “As soon as I learned that you were a crew member of the Semper Tyrannis, I tracked down and captured these crewmates of yours, using them as bait to bring you to this world. But I did not lure you here to destroy you, Sixshot. I lured you here to present you with an offer.”

Sixshot tilted his head. “An offer?”

“Yes. Leave the Decepticons and join me in a new mission: to end all war by destroying everything worth warring over.” The Deathbringer gestured to the barren wasteland that Mumu-Obscura had been reduced to. “I have already made an example of this world, knowing the strategic value it had to your faction. If all words are reduced to nothing, then you will have nothing to fight for, thus ending your war with the Autobots. That is what you want, is it not?”

“What makes you think I want that?”

Despite its featureless face, the Deathbringer seemed taken aback by this. “I do not understand. Do you not want an end to this war?”

“If the war ends, where does that leave me?” Sixshot asked. “I was made to be a weapon of mass destruction. The ultimate Decepticon warrior. After all is said and done—when there is nothing left to destroy and no one left to fight—what purpose will I have? Hell, what purpose will you have once you have destroyed everything?”

The Deathbringer did not have a response to that, standing stiffly as it struggled to process the question. After what seemed like forever, the machine finally spoke.

“I require an answer to my offer. If you decline it, then I will be forced to return to my original directive.”

“That’s fine,” Sixshot said. “I’ll save you the trouble.”

In one swift motion, he holstered his guns and jumped up into the air, converting his body into a massive cannon. A massive beam of energy emitted from his primary cannon and the Deathbringer was obliterated in a single blast.

As he transformed back to robot mode, Sixshot heard the Terrorcons hoop and holler from behind him.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” said Rippersnapper. “This is why Sixshot is the best Decepticon there is!”

Sixshot tried his best to tune out their cheers as he released them from their restraints, wondering if he had made the right choice.

*  *  *

No matter how hard he tried to push them down, the memories always came bubbling back to the surface.

The one which recurred the most was the day where it had all changed for him. When he had first stepped foot into the dojo of the Six Clan.

He couldn’t recall how or even exactly when he had first learned of the Six Clan. Practically no one had ever heard of them and, from what he understood, not even the Prime knew of their existence. The first thing he could recall was standing in the center chamber of their dojo, kneeling before the masters as they stood on their raised podiums. He did not know their names, but they knew his.

“We have been watching you, Greatshot,” the leader of the Six Clan had said. “We have determined that you are worthy of learning the secrets of Adaptus.”

It was perhaps the last time anyone had spoken his original name. After he had swiftly learned how to reconfigure his body into five different alternate modes, he was forever known as “Sixshot,” and for the first time in his life he had found his purpose and place.

But that had all changed when the war broke out. The rest of the clan had sworn to recluse themselves from Cybertron’s affairs, but Sixshot could not ignore it. He had tired to sway the six masters into seeing things his way… and in return they had expelled him from the clan, once more leaving him without a place in a world.

That was when he had come to Megatron, who had promised him everything he desired. But that promise was one buried under lies as Sixshot was instead remade into a weapon for the Decepticons to use as they pleased. He had been given a purpose and a place… but it had not been the one he had dreamed.

Perhaps this was what he had always been made for. Perhaps this was what Primus had planned for him. Whichever the case, he no longer had a say. He was a weapon, and he would fire in whichever direction he was pointed.

Even the Deathbringer, for all its praise and all it had promised him, had seen him only as something like itself: a bringer of death and destruction. The only thing that would have been different had he taken up the alien machine’s offer, would be that no one would be holding the gun this time. The burden of death would be on his shoulders, and his alone.

And that was something he wasn’t sure he could bear. At least not yet.

Scorponok had praised him for the safe return of the Terrorcons and soon it was back to business as usual. Their next destination was the planet of Beast, where Scorponok planned to subjugate the local population and use them to advance his projects, including the expansion of his Targetmaster program. Sixshot would be put on standby, as Scorponok wanted to preserve the world for as long as he could in order to plunder its resources. Sixshot had no complaints to that. After all, what was he but a gun simply waiting to be fired?

Until then, he would wait for someone to unholster him… and he would let the burden of death be on their shoulders.

Transformers Regenerated: Tales from the Lost Light - Dungeons & Dinobots

    Disclaimer: I have very limited knowledge of DnD, having only played it once briefly in high school. Most of what I know comes from listening to RPG horror stories on YouTube and watching a few episodes of Critical Role.

    Then again, the characters in this story have just as limited knowledge as I do, so it works out.

    The cast here is based on James Roberts' own comments about what a Lost Light RP group would be like.

DUNGEONS & DINOBOTS

Session 0

“Dungeons and what now?”

“Dragons!” Swerve grinned ear-to-ear as he showed Nautica the cover of some sort of book on his viewscreen. “It’s a game that humans on Earth play!”

Nautica regarded the cover skeptically. There was indeed a dragon on the cover (or at least what she knew to be a dragon), so that part was accurate at least. There were also two humans fighting the dragon, one being a bearded man clad in some sort of wooden armor, and the other a woman with some sort of scarlet garb that showed off her legs. A green orb of energy was also glowing in the woman’s hands, and Nautica was pretty sure humans could not do that, at least based on the limited research she had done on the species.

“So, does it teach them to do magic?” she asked.

“Yup!” Swerve replied. He then paused before saying, “Well, actually, I think it’s all in their imagination. Like, they pretend to do magic but they’re not actually doing it, you know?”

“Oh. But the dragons are real, right?”

“Uh, no, those are still in your imagination. Actually, I think they come in little figurines so you can act as if the dragon is really there. But they’re, like, this small!” Swerve held up a hand and closed his thumb and index finger together. “We’ll have to find figurines that scale better to us.”

“’We?’”

“Yeah, I’m organizing a game at the bar! I’ve already got, like, five other players, so all we need is a Dungeon Master!” 

“A Dungeon Master?”

“Yeah, someone to run the game for us.”

Nautica tilted her head. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m playing a wizard, and you can’t be a Dungeon Master and a player at the same time. Well, you can, but it’s ill-advised.”

“Ill-advised by who?”

“Look, are you in or not? Because Ultra Magnus sure as hell isn’t gonna do it and he’s the only other rules lawyer I know on this ship.”

Nautica threw her hands up. “All right, fine, I’ll do it.”

Swerve pumped his fist. “Awesome! Wait until I tell the others!”

*  *  *

“So, what do these things do?” Riptide asked as he held up a pair of dice.

“You roll them to make a move,” Swerve said as he took his seat at the round table. Nautica sat opposite of him, staring in complete bemusement at the holographic display projected in front of her. Swerve had made sure to make the hologram a complete replica of the Gamemaster’s Handbook. He had some difficulty because there were, like, five different versions, but he made it all work and just used the best parts from each of them. He was positive that Nautica would quickly get the hang of it.

Sitting next to Riptide, Blades was admiring the figurine that Ten had handcrafted for him as he had for the other players. His character was, according to the handbook Swerve had shown him, a dwarven barbarian. “We get to smash these things together when we fight, right?”

Swerve shrugged. “If you want to, I guess. The books I read didn’t really say anything about that.”

Hound looked up from the figurine of his Cleric and regarded the confused Nautica with a concerned look. “Do you want me to…?”

Nautica waved a hand. “No, no, I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’ve spent a little time on Earth, so I have an idea about how humans—”

“Trust me, I’ve got it.”

Sitting between Hound and Rewind, Rung looked over to Swerve. “So, when do we start playing?”

“Well, this is just a Session Zero,” Swerve explained. “This is just a way to get a feel for the game and see what we’re all comfortable with.”

“What kinds of things would we not be comfortable with?” asked Rewind.

“Well, you know, things like… romance! Sometimes, players will have their characters get together romantically even if they’re not in real life.”

“Kind of like actors?”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Blades scowled. “Well, I’m sure as hell not hooking up with anyone here. My barbarian only likes smashing dragons, not smashing lips together!”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” Swerve said. “Again, whatever makes you guys feel comfortable.”

Riptide sighed, rolling the dice around in his hands. “I’m still so confused. What are all these dots for?”

“That’s the number on the die,” Swerve said. “You add them up and—”

“Why not just use actual numbers instead of dots?”

“Because—”

“Oh!” Nautica exclaimed. “Now I know what I’ve been doing wrong! I’ve had the display upside down this whole time!”

Rewind sighed as he rested his head in his hands. “This is gonna be interesting, I bet.”

Session 1

“You meet in a tavern.”

“What’s a tavern?” Blades asked.

Nautica winced but Hound saved her from answering. “It’s like a bar. Like what we’re in now.”

“Why not just call it a bar then?”

“It’s supposed to be archaic,” Swerve said. “Dungeons and Dragons takes place a long time ago, before dragons went extinct.”

Blades slowly nodded. “Right. Got it.”

Rung looked around the table. “Has anyone seen Riptide?”

“I think he forgot to show up,” Rewind said. “Does someone want to message him or…?”

“We can wait until next time,” Swerve said. “I don’t think he even rolled up a character.”

Nautica cleared her vocal processor. “Right, okay. So you meet in a tavern. Hound, what’s your character doing?”

“I’m going around the room, spreading the good word of Primus,” Hound said, mimicking the motion with his Cleric figurine.

“Primus doesn’t exist in this world,” Swerve interjected.

“The human equivalent then.”

“Oh!” Rewind raised a hand. “Can I be his bodyguard or something? I looked it up and paladins are, like, religious knights, and if Hound’s cleric is a religious leader, then it makes sense that the two would go together, right?”

Swerve looked to Nautica. “Your call, Dungeon Master.”

“Um, sure.” Nautica shrugged. “I don’t see why not. What about you, Blades? What are you up to?”

“I’m sulking in a corner, sharpening my axe,” Blades said sullenly.

“Rewind and I approach him,” Hound said.

Blades pounded his fist on the table, a gleeful expression on his face. “I swing my axe at them and chop their heads off!”

The entire table went silent, with some looking back and forth between Swerve and Nautica. Nautica looked to Swerve but the white and red minibot merely shrugged, gesturing to indicate that the choice was in her hands.

After taking a moment to look at her handbook, Nautica took in a breath before looking over to Hound and Rewind. “Roll for initiative. You too, Blades”

The two exchanged glanced before rolling their respective dice. Blades did the same. Hound looked up from his and said, “Eighteen,” while Rewind said “Twenty.”

Blades scowled. “Four.”

Nautica looked back at her guide and her face brightened. “Okay. Blades swings his axe and misses, tripping over his feet and falling face first on the floor.”

Hound and Rewind laughed as they high-fived each other. Blades, meanwhile, crossed his arms as he sunk back in his seat. “Just lucky,” he mumbled under his breath.

Rung raised his hand to get everyone’s attention. “I notice the commotion and walk over to see what’s going on. I am playing a healer, so my first priority would be to—”

“I’m fine,” Blades snapped. “I get back up and dust myself off. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Nautica said. “So, now that you four are together… Swerve, where are you?”

Swerve beamed. “Oh, I’m not at the tavern. You guys haven’t met me yet.”

Nautica frowned. “I thought everyone was supposed to meet in a tavern.”

“Traditionally, yes. But who says we have to follow tradition? Let’s subvert expectations a bit. Trust me, when I show up, it’s gonna be a big moment. Just you wait!”

Session 2

“Anytime you could show up would be great,” Blades muttered.

“Let’s not deus ex machina this,” Swerve said. “Trust me, it would ruin the moment.”

“Okay, Rewind, the tentacle monster has a tendril wrapped around your neck,” Nautica said. “What do you do?”

“I, uh, cut it with my sword?” Rewind asked tentatively.

“Roll.”

“For what?”

“Uh, initiative.”

“I thought I already—”

“I don’t know, just roll your dice, okay?”

Rewind did so. “Sixteen.”

“Okay, your sword cuts through the tentacle and you manage to free yourself.”

“We make a run for the exit,” said Hound.

“No!” Blades interjected. “I cut the monster to pieces with my—”

“Blades, you’re dead, remember?” Nautica said.

He deflated. “Oh. Right.”

“Can we carry his body out of the cave?” Rung asked.

“If you’re quick about it, sure,” said Nautica.

Swerve watched as everyone played out their parts. He was pretty happy to see that they were all seeming to get the hang of it. It was honestly pretty close to what he had been seeing from broadcasts showing humans getting together and making a whole performance out of their game…

As his optics fell on Rewind, an idea suddenly sparked in his head. “Hey, Rewind, you’ve got your camera, right?”

Rewind looked up at him. “Uh, yeah? I’ve always got it.” He tapped the side of his head. “Right here, remember?”

“Awesome! Okay, guys, I’ve got an idea.”

“Is your character gonna finally show up?” Blades groused.

“Soon! But first… have you guys heard of a show called Critical Role…?”

Session 3

“Okay, we’re rolling,” Rewind said.

“Oh, god.” Nautica put her hands to her mouth. “Am I supposed to say something?”

“Just introduce yourself,” Swerve whispered to him.

“Um, okay. Hello, everyone. I’m Nautica. I come from a planet called Caminus and, uh, we’re all Autobots and—”

Swerve ran over to Rewind and forcibly turned the Recordibot’s head so that the camera was on him. “And we’re playing Dungeons and Dragons! That’s right! Put it in the headlines: ‘Alien Robots Play Dungeons & Dragons Live On Twitch!’”

“’Twitch?’” Rung asked.

“It’s a livestreaming platform. I had Rewind set up an account and everything.” Swerve looked back into the camera. “You are broadcasting straight to there, right?”

“Yes, Swerve,” Rewind said. “Please let go of my face.”

“Awesome! How many viewers do we have so far?”

“Five. And I think three of them might not even be real humans…”

“Not to worry. We’ve just started.” Swerve ran back to his seat and pushed forward his figurine. “You’re just in time, too, because we’re about to introduce my character: Swervius Maximus of the Highwinds! A dragonborn wizard!”

“Wait,” Blades said. “I thought the dragons were the bad guys. Are you playing a bad guy?”

“No, but I am, let’s say… morally ambiguous.” Swerve smiled slyly. The others simply stared at him blankly.

Rewind broke the silence. “Ooh. There’s been an uptick. Fifteen live viewers now.”

Swerve grinned. “See, I told you! Now then, let’s get started….”

Session 6

“You… want to join our game?”

“Sure,” Rodimus said, taking the seat that had originally belonged to Riptide. “I’ve been hearing the buzz and thought it would be cool. Gives me an excuse to not listen to Magnus drone on….”

“Okay,” Nautica murmured. “What character do you want to play? I have the books right here, so you can—”

“Oh god, I didn’t come here to do any reading.” Rodimus raised his hands. “Just give me whatever sounds the coolest and I’ll roll with it.”

“Um, okay.” Nautica perused through the guides. “How does a… lionfolk fighter sound?”

Rodimus rubbed his chin. “Lions are the ones with the big beards right?”

“Uh, they’re called manes, but… yes.”

“Awesome. Let’s go with that.”

“Okay, great! Now, let me catch you up on the campaign. Last session, we—”

Rodimus waved a hand. “You don’t need to do that. I can figure it out.”

Nautica frowned. “But we have five sessions worth of—”

“It’s all right. I can handle it. Let’s just play.”

Nautica sighed. “All right. Blades, you’ve just been resurrected by….” She cringed slightly. “Swervius Maximus. How are you feeling?”

“Like a million Shanix!” Blades exclaimed.

“Good. Now, your party has made it into the town of Erip’mav, which is ruled by a family of vampires.”

“LET’S CHOP OFF THEIR HEADS!” Blades roared.

“Calm down, Blades, we just got into town.” Hound sighed. “Besides, maybe these vampires are friendly.”

“We do have that vial of blood that we got from the shopkeeper’s chest,” Rung pointed out. “Maybe we could use that as a peace offering.”

Rodimus looked from one player to the next with an incredulous look. “Why are you guys carrying around blood? And what the hell is a vampire?”

Nautica glared at him. “I thought you said you could figure it out.”

“All right, all right. Never mind. Carry on.” Rodimus huffed exasperatedly. “When do I get show up?”

“You can show up now, if you’d like. Maybe your character is a resident of the town and greets the party.”

“Okay.” Rodimus waved at the others. “Hi everyone.”

“You need to state the action you’re performing,” said Rung.

Rodimus huffed. “I walk up to you guys and wave, saying ‘Hi everyone.’”

“Hello,” said Hound. “And what is your name?”

“Rodimus.”

“That’s it?” Swerve asked. “You don’t have a cool name for him?”

Rodimus glanced at him. “Do I need to to?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Nautica. “Besides, I’m sure ‘Rodimus’ fits in just as well as ‘Swervius Maximus….’”

“Yeah!” Rodimus grinned. “Call me Rodimus. Rodimus Prime!”

Nautica buried her face in her hands. “Solus protect me….”

*  *  * 

“…the Vampire Queen laughs as she holds up the severed head of the watchman!” Nautica held up her arms and let out a shrill laugh, startling more than a few members of the table. “’This is the fate that befalls those who defy us!’ she declares!”

“Wow,” Hound muttered. “And here I thought you hated acting….”

“All right, what do we wanna do, guys?” Rodimus asked. “I say we fight them!”

“Sounds good to me!” Blades agreed.

Rung sighed. “I suppose we don’t have much choice. That peace offering certainly didn’t go anywhere….”

“I draw my sword and cast a fireball!” Rodimus declared.

Nautica stared at him. “You’re a fighter.”

“So?”

“Fighters can’t cast fireballs.”

Rodimus frowned. “You let Swerve do it.”

“Because he’s a wizard. You’re a fighter. You can’t cast fireballs.”

Rodimus huffed. “Fine. So what can I do?”

“You can charge at her and swing your sword.”

“Okay, I do that!”

“Roll initiative then.”

Rodimus rolled his dice and counted them up. “Twelve.”

“You run up at the Vampire Queen and swing your sword. She catches the blade in her hands and pulls it out of your hands before pushing you back.”

“Scrap! I slash at her with my claws—”

“You’ll have to wait your turn. Blades, do you want to go next?”

Before Blades could respond, Rodimus suddenly pushed back his seat and stood up. “Sorry, guys, but I’ve gotta get back to the bridge. Captain stuff, you know.”

“Oh, okay,” Nautica said. “Maybe you can join us for the next session.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be there.”

Rodimus left the room, and as soon as he was gone, the rest of the players exchanged glances.

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Swerve asked.

“Nope,” everyone else said in unison.

Intermission

Rewind came running into Swerve’s bar excitedly, nearly knocking into Whirl as he made his way to the group’s table, where the others were enjoying refuels rather than playing the game.

“Guys! Guys! You’re not gonna believe this!” He jumped into his seat. “The stream of our latest session hit over a million views last night!”

“See?” Swerve exclaimed. “I told you it would be a good idea! If humans can make it big playing fantasy games, then so can robots!” 

“You bet! I’ve even been perusing human networks—they call it the World Wide Web, I think?—and people are just fawning over us! They’ve even made fan art of our characters!”

“Proof or it didn’t happen,” Swerve demanded.

Rewind reached into a compartment and brought out several physical images of said art. One showed Blades’s dwarven barbarian in a frenzy. Another showed Hound’s elven cleric and Rewind’s paladin going about their crusades. A third was a highly detailed portrait of Rung’s red-haired, bespectacled character. Finally, there was one that showed the winged Swervius Maximus casting magic into the sky.

“Wow,” Blades said as he looked at his picture. “They even got the right shade of blue for my face!”

“These are so badass,” Swerve murmured as he gawked at his fan art.

“And don’t worry, Nautica,” Rewind went on. “People are simply gushing over your performance in last night’s session, especially as the Vampire Queen.”

Energon flushed into Nautica’s cheeks. “Really…?”

“Yup! Just…” Rewind hesitated. “Maybe don’t search your name on the Internet.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing! It’s just… people really seem to like you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No! Not at all! It’s just that… humans tend to have strange ways of showing their appreciation. Ways that might come across as—”

“I’m looking it up.” Nautica brought out her datapad and began typing.

“No no no don’t—!” Swerve lunged to take the datapad out of her hands but Blades stopped him, grabbing him by the waist.

“She’s gonna find out eventually!” Blades said. “Just let it happen!”

Swerve could only watch helplessly as Nautica perused the human networks with a bemused expression. “Seems fine so far,” she murmured. “They do seem to draw me a lot more… curvaceous than I actually am, but it all seems innocent enough.”

She continued scrolling as Swerve groaned into his hands. Blades grinned wickedly. Hound and Rung looked confused. Rewind simply hung his head in shame.

Finally, it happened. “Oh my,” Nautica said.

“I am so sorry,” Rewind sighed.

“Is that a…?”

“It’s probably exactly what you think it is.”

“But we don’t have those.”

“They don’t know that.”

Nautica covered her mouth with a hand. “And that… that’s not Skids, is it?”

“Remember when he guest starred in Session Four? People think you and he had very good chemistry.”

“I was just playing as an enpeecee or whatever it’s called!”

“NPC,” Swerve corrected, his voice muffled by his hands.

Rewind shook his head. “Sadly, humans have difficulty separating fantasy from reality. Which could explain the popularity of this game, funnily enough.”

Nautica was silent as she slowly lowered the datapad, her expression a mix of emotions. Swerve lowered his hands but kept his gaze solely on the table.

“I understand if you guys don’t want to play anymore…”

“I mean, it has been fun,” Hound said. “Honestly. But I’m not sure if it can be a long-term thing. Humans have their ways to spend free time, we have ours…”

“Yes, and scheduling is something of a hurdle,” said Rung. “I already had to postpone too many appointments….”

“At least we defeated the bad guy!” Blades said. “That Vampire Queen was the bad guy, right? The one whose head I chopped off last session?”

“I mean, she was one of them.” Nautica sighed. “But, I think it might be a good idea to take a break. Maybe we can come back together when our schedules are more open.”

Rewind turned to a dejected Swerve. “You can also organize a new party, if you want?”

Swerve looked up at him. “I can?”

“Yeah, I’ve read that humans have multiple campaigns running simultaneously all the time. There’s over a hundred bots on board; I’m sure you can find at least a few that might be interested in playing. You can even DM!”

“What about the livestreams?”

“Don’t worry about that. I can keep on recording the sessions and I’ll figure out the Twitch channel.”

“What are you losers talking about?”

Everyone looked up to see Whirl looming over their table.

“Dungeons and Dragons,” Swerve said. “It’s a game that humans—”

“I know,” Whirl interrupted. “I’ve been watching the streams. Kind of boring, if I’m being honest.”

Swerve scowled. “Okay, then, butt out of our business if you’re gonna—”

“But I know how to make it not boring.”

Swerve frowned. “How’s that?”

Whirl waved a claw. “Follow me.”

Session 0

“…and those are the rules,” Swerve said in conclusion. “Any questions?”

“So we roll the dice and then shoot?” Strafe asked as he loaded up his gun.

“When you’re in combat, yes. But you won’t be in combat all of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Whirl piped in as he set up the practice targets.

“Do we get those little figurines like you guys did in Nautica’s campaign?” asked Atomizer.

“Only if you want. In this game, you basically are your characters. You don’t need figures to represent yourselves.”

“Are shooting ranges normal settings for these kinds of games?” asked Doubletap.

“No,” Swerve admitted. “But then, we aren’t the normal kinds of players. We rolling, Rewind?”

Rewind gave the thumbs up.

“All right, then. Let’s get this game started!”

Riptide sighed as he rolled around a pair of dice in his hands. “I’m sorry… but what do we do with these things, again?”

Transformers Regenerated: Tales - Made of Iron

EDITED 7/2/2019 Replaced Ironworks with Ironclad

MADE OF IRON

A Regenerated Short Story

---

Cybertron, Cycle 5816

    Night had fallen and work had begun.

    It was a strange routine -- Ironhide didn't mind it, but it made things difficult when the rest of the planet was in shutdown. He would have to wait until he awoke from recharge to see if his friend in Iacon had gotten his message.

    Still, he didn't let it bother him. Despite having only been online for two stellar cycles, he had already grown accustomed it. Besides, he still had plenty of bots to talk to in Thetacon; so long as they kept working, the chief was tolerant of socializing.

    Tonight had started off as any other; upon awakening, he had lined up with the rest of his team and given their orders by the chief. The task had been the same as it always had been for the past two years: build a fortress to be placed in Iacon to defend it from the Decepticon threat.

    Progress on the fortress had been slow going however. Part of it (or most of it perhaps) was because the chief did not see the Decepticons as big of a threat as they had been made out to be and saw the project as a waste of resources.

    "Did Iacon need a fortress when Nominus Prime was assassinated?" Ox would always say. "Or when the Maladroids invaded Simfur? Or when the Destrongers tried to abduct Guardian Prime?"

    It was Ox's belief that the Decepticons would be dealt with in good time and that Sentinel Prime was overcompensating with a fortress. Ironhide wasn't sure how well that would go over with Delta Magnus when he visited for his routine inspection next solar cycle, but that wasn't Ironhide's concern. He was simply here to work and nothing else.

    He only wished others had that same mindset.

    "Come on, Ironbuster," he called over to his fellow Thetacon, who was sat upon the stack of beams he was supposed to be carrying. "Get your aft moving. This fortress ain't gonna build itself."

    "All right, all right!" the blue and red mech said, getting up and lifting his burden. "Just taking a breather."

    "Yeah, your fifth in as many minutes," Ironhide grunted. "What's holding you up anyway?"

    "Ironclad was telling me stories of the Primal Vanguard last night," Ironbuster replied. "Did you know it was Sentinel EnN who defeated Cannibaron during the Destron Wars?"

    "Who and who?"

    "Well, see, Cannibaron had gotten his hands on the Sphere of Doradus, so--"

    "Kid, I don't really care. Just do you work--"

    "Hey, who are you calling 'kid?' You're only a year older than me!"

    "It's short for 'skidplate,' 'cos you're acting like one," said a heavily built red femme with a gold chest, coming up alongside the two mechs. "Besides, I'm sure Ironclad's just pulling your leg. She wouldn't have been there during the Destron Wars."

    "Why not? I mean, she's the only one of us who was forged, so she could've--"

    "Hold it." Ironhide brought the group to a stop, raising a hand to his optics as he looked up to the star-lit sky. "Are my optics playing tricks or is that a flier up there?"

    The other two looked up to see a jet circling over the worksite. At that moment, the three Thetacons heard the rumble of an engine and looked to see a large tank rolling into the settlement.

    "Aw, scrap," Ironbuster said, dropping his load as he raised his hands. "I knew this day would come!"

    "Do not panic, people of Thetacon!" Descending from above, the jet transformed and landed before them, revealing a red and black robot form. "We come in peace."

    Ironbuster's mouth fell open in shock. "Councilor Ulchtar?"

    Ironhide frowned. "Who?"

    "Vos' representative on the High Council," Irontread explained. "What are you doing here in Thetacon, Councilor? Especially at this hour?"

    Ulchtar smiled. "Just thought I'd stop by. I'm due for a meeting in Tesarus tomorrow, so I thought I'd see how progress on the fortress was going."

    Ironhide gestured to the tank behind Ulchtar. "And him?"

    "Hm? Oh, yes." Ulchtar turned to the tank. "Do you mind showing yourself?"

    The tank transformed, assuming the shape of a large mech with tall shoulders and a horned helmet. Irontread and Ironbuster both stepped back in shock while Ironhide simply looked on curiously. Ulchtar turned back to them with a smile.

    "My friends, this is Trannis."

    "I know who he is," Irontread murmured. "He's the one who killed Guardian Prime--"

    "Ah, let's not start off on erroneous information," Trannis said, smiling. "The assassination of Guardian Prime was a tragic event and, while it was admittedly performed by a self-proclaimed Decepticon, it was not at my command."

    "Really?" Ironbuster frowned. "Because only a month prior, you held that rally at Nova Point."

    "I am a powerful speaker. Some may have taken my words to an extreme I had not intended."

    "Still, the damage has been done," Ironhide murmured.

    Trannis shifted his gaze to him. "What's your name, lad?"

    "Ironhide. And don't call me 'lad.'"

    "My apologies. It was rude of me to assume your age."

    "Actually, he's only been online for two years," Irontread said. "He acts like he's a thousand though. He even treats me like a protoform, and I have fifty years on him!"

    Trannis smiled. "Is that so? So tell me, Ironhide, what do you do for a living?"

    "I build stuff."

    "And are you content with that?"

    Ironhide shrugged. "I guess? I mean, it's life."

    "Yes... life as dictated by the system. Have you ever dreamed of being something more?"

    "I...." Ironhide glanced at Ulchtar. "Councilor, what's--"

    "Answer his question," Ulchtar replied curtly.

    Iornhide rubbed his head. "No. No, I can't say I have."

    "Understandable. You haven't lived long enough yet to come to question the system." Trannis looked to Irontread. "And you? You've lived longer than he has. Have you had aspirations outside your caste?"

    Irontread shifted her feet. "I... I have, actually. I've always wanted to be in the Primal Vanguard. I wouldn't even need to change alt modes; I could just repurpose my smokestacks into barrels and I'd be set. But alas, I can't."

    "You can," Trannis said. "Or at least, you can if you join us."

    Irontread blinked. "What?"

    "Don't even think about it, Irontread!" Ironbuster said. "These guys are monsters! They killed Guardian Prime!"

    Trannis sighed. "Again, a completely unsanctioned act--"

    "I don't care! If violence is what your speeches inspire, then I want no part in it. Sure, functionism is restrictive, but I prefer it over anarchy!"

    "That's too bad. I'm sorry you feel that way." Trannis returned his gaze to Ironhide. "And you, Ironhide? Are you still undecided?"

    "I... I don't know." Ironhide shook his head. "I don't really pay much attention to what happens outside Thetacon. I just do my duty and worry about little else."

    "Well, at the very least, I admire your work ethic." Trannis nodded to the unfinished fortress. "It definitely shows."

    "Indeed," Ulchtar said. "Perhaps we should let them resume their work. We've already preoccupied them for long enough."

    "Of course." Trannis waved a hand to the three Thetacons. "It has been a pleasure meeting you all. And Ironhide, do try to read up a little more on the world you live in."

    "Uh, right," Ironhide said, watching as Trannis and Ulchtar transformed and took off into the night.

*  *  *

    The next night, he received his message from Kup and learned that the Kudon Act had been passed, allowing manual class as himself liable to enroll at the Autobot Academy.

    The next week, construction of the Fortress Maximus was completed, owed to Delta Magnus playing a little intimidation game with Ox.

    The next month, Ironhide and his friends attended the Autobot Academy in Iacon. It had been the first time Ironhide had ever left Thetacon.

    The next year, Irontread mysteriously vanished. Ironhide didn't need to guess where she had gone.

    The next decade, Ironhide defended Thetacon from the Decepticons. Irontread was among the invaders, bearing their insignia. She never once acknowledged him.

    The next century, Ironbuster was accepted into the Primal Vanguard. Ironhide was turned down for the 84th time.

    The next millennium, Ironhide met Kup face-to-face for the first time. They drank together at Maccadam's for a good ten hours. On that same day, the Decepticons unveiled Trypticon Fortress, based on the same schematics as Fortress Maximus. Ironhide never made the connection to that day he first met Trannis.

    The next and last time he saw Trannis, it was on the day after the Battle of Iacon, nearly two thousand years after that day. Ironhide stood guard as Trannis was escorted to sign the Tyrest Accord. As he passed by, Trannis had stopped and met Ironhide's eyes. The Decepticon leader's optics had then shifted to the Autobot badge on his shoulder and he sneered.

    "You didn't do as I asked."

    Ironhide said nothing as Trannis was pushed on towards the meeting room. Once he was gone, Ironhide allowed himself a smirk. Standing next to him, Kup had noticed and raised an optic.

    "What's so funny, lad?"

    "Joke's on him," Ironhide said. "I can't read."

FIN

Transformers Regenerated: Tales --Trapped in the Spotlight

This is the last story I had written for Tales. I may go back and add more, but for now, this is it.

TRAPPED IN THE SPOTLIGHT

--Cybertron, after the war--

    "No, no, no." Bumblebee dug frantically through the crate which contained his personal belonging, tossing several items this way and that. "Where the frag is it?"

    He eventually dug out the very last thing in the box -- a broken model of some ship he'd forgotten about -- and carelessly threw it over his shoulder, kicking the crate at the wall in frustration.

    "Slag it! How could I be so fraggin' stupid?!"

    As he sat dejectedly on his recharge slab, a blue-helmeted head poked out from the open door of his room, surveying the mess he had made before looking at him. "Is everything all right?" Arcee asked.

    Bumblebee sighed. "Fine. Everything's fine."

    "Oh. So making a huge mess while yelling loudly is just something you do in your spare time?" the blue femme asked, stepping fully into the doorway with a hand on her hip.

    Bumblebee glared at her before sighing again, looking away. "I... left something behind on Earth."

    "Left what behind?"

    The yellow Autobot shook his head, standing up. "It's nothing. Nothing important."

    Arcee stepped into the room and walked up to Bumblebee, placing a hand on his shoulder. As he looked up at her confused, she smiled slightly. "It's your toy, isn't it? Your Bombast Major doll."

    Bumblebee's optics flickered in embarrassment. "You... you know about that...?"

    "I saw you drop it from your box when we were boarding Metroplex. I picked it up and put it with my--"

    "Wait, you have it?" Bumblebee grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her vigorously. "Where is it?! Is it still in good condition? It's not broken, is it? You handled it with care, right? You didn't thow it away, did you?"

    "I haven't touched it since we left Earth," Arcee said irritably, pushing the smaller bot off of her. "It should be fine. Let me go get it."

    Bumblebee followed Arcee to her quarters, watching her skeptically while a dozen scenarios played through his head: a battered Bombast Major on a dark shelf; pieces of his toy strewn across the room; the hand of Bombast Major poking out from a smelting pool, giving one last thumbs-up....

    They finally reached Arcee's room and Bumblebee immediately started searching, looking underneath the recharge slab and behind the computer station. Arcee rolled her optics as she pulled out a crate from her storage closet.

    "I haven't even unpacked it yet," she said as she opened the crate's lid. "Just give me a minute."

    As she tarted searching through the box, taking out each item one at a time, Bumblebee skidded up next to her, watching her intently. Mercifully, he did not say a single word... that is, until a particular item caught his optic, and he picked it up before Arcee could.

    "Hey, hands off!" Arcee snapped, trying to grab it back.

    Keeping it out of her reach, Bumblebee said, "This is Forever Glass, isn't it? Ironfist told me you could only find it on Moldavite VI."

    "I got it from some dealer in Praxus. Now give it back!" Arcee tried again to take the item, but Bumblebee held her at bay.

    "Hang on, there's an image reflected in it." He narrowed his optics as he studied the permanent reflection. In it, he could see two female bots, both in pink armor, standing together with arms around each other, beaming brightly.

    "Who are these two? The one on the right kinda looks like Elita-One... are these your sisters?"

    Arcee finally snatched the glass from Bumblebee and put it aside, glaring at him. "Mind your own business, will you?"

    "Sorry," Bumblebee murmured. "It's just... you never really talk much about your family. I don't think you even said a word to Elita when she and her crew arrived on Earth."

    "She was too busy reconnecting with Optimus," Arcee muttered, returning to her search.

    "Still, did you at least try to talk to her? I mean, she is your sister--"

    Arcee turned back to him, an irritated look on her face. "Am I missing something here? I thought we were here to find your stupid doll, not put me in the spotlight."

    Bumblebee backed away, holding his hands up. "Okay, okay! Sorry! Sheesh... ask a simple question...."

    Satisfied with this response, Arcee resumed her search. However, her mind was no longer focused on the matter at hand, but rather on things she had thought been buried in the past....

--Cybertron, before the war--

    "...One hundred fifty... two hundred... two hundred fifty...."

    Elita-Seven watched as the multi-armed mech counted the credits on his desk, his green optics growing wider the higher he counted.

    "...Four hundred... four hundred fifty... five hundred thousand Shanix! My word! That's more than I make in a week!" Scooping up the credits and putting them away, Limelight grinned at Elita, showing well-polished dental plates. "I was right in hiring you. You sell alt modes like engex. Tell me, what's your secret?"

    She shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I can't say, sir. Must be some sort of untold talent."

    Limelight leaned across the desk, resting his chin on a hand as he studied her. "Hmm... you do have something of a... curvaceous appearance. Tell me, are you from Caminus? I know we've been getting some Camien immigrants over the past few centuries."

    "No, sir. I come from a small town called Venix. Most bots constructed there are given a slender, sometimes curvy appearance. It's always been our style."

    "Ah yes, Venix. Been there once myself. I have a friend from Venix who fancies himself an alt mode enthusiast." Limelight snorted derisively. "He won't make it anywhere in the world."

    The mech then moved across the room, his spindly body moving with overly pronounced grace and style. From a shelf he picked up a datapad, into which he punched a few keys. 

    "You on the other hand...." He looked at Elita-Seven, smiling brightly. "I'm planning a fashion tour that'll take us from Triax all the way to Carpessa... and I'm only taking my best models with me. What do you say?"

    Elita blinked, taken aback by the offer. "Me? You want me?"

    "You are one of my best, Elita -- and believe me, I've had quite the number of models under my hire." He extended one of his four hands to her. "Well? What do you say?"

    She stared at the proffered hand for a moment before finally shaking it. "Count me in."

--Five months later--

    She could not believe this was happening. She would not.

    She kept her eyes on the floor, listening to the incessant chatter around her.

    "...violation of Code AR-C103-55--"

    "I know that already, Twelve-of-Twelve. I still have to wait for Prime's orders."

    "Your obsession over semantics is unnecessary. We are wasting our time by stalling their punishment."

    "These bots did nothing wrong. All they did was walk down a walkway and show off their chassis."

    "They were advocating the act of changing alt modes; again, a violation of Code AR--"

    She did not hear the rest of the conversation. She saw a pair of feet appear before her and looked up to see a magenta-colored femme. She instantly looked away ashamedly.

    "Sister... I'm sorry."

    "Save it," Elita-Two said harshly. "If you get let off for this, don't bother coming back home. There is no way the others are letting you back in."

    "Sister--"

    "No. Not 'sister'. Not anymore. Not ever again."

    With that, the femme turned on her heel and left to join the other police bots in containing the rest of Limelight's models and workers. She could see Limelight himself trying to resist arrest.

    Elita-Two's departure begot the arrival of another mech, the officer who had been arguing with the Functionist Castigator. He looked down at her as he held out a datapad.

    "Name?" he asked.

    She hesitated to answer. Giving him the name she had always gone by would only cause more problems, especially if her sister was working for him and had just effectively disowned her. But then, she couldn't give him no name at all.

    Her mind raced. What was that code she had violated? AR-C something?

    "Arcee," she finally said. "Arcee of... of Actox."

    The officer eyed her for a moment, leading her to fear that he had somehow seen through her deception. He then moved his gaze to his datapad and pressed in a few commands.

    "Arcee of Actox, you are relieved of all charges by order of Sentinel Prime."

    She looked up at him in surprise. "Really?"

    "However, you are to turn yourself in to your local Relinquishment Clinic and transfer your spark into a more basic body-type. In your case, I would suggest you change to a motorcycle."

    "Is that... allowable?"

    "Under sub-clause C of Code AR-104-A11, yes," he replied, throwing a sidelong glance at the Functionist. "Turns out I do know my rules very well."

    As he removed the stasis cuffs from her hands, the officer put a hand on Arcee's shoulder and looked her straight in the optic. "Do you still have a home to go to, once you're free?"

    She starred at him blankly. "Why are you asking? Why do you care?"

    The officer spared a glance at Elita-Two before saying in a low whisper, "I know who you are. I've heard your sisters talk about you."

    "You... you... what?" Arcee stammered, trying to form a coherent response.

    "You're pretty much the only one from House Elita to not join the Security Force. If you're looking for a job or a place to live even... we're always looking out for new recruits."

    Arcee considered his offer. At this point, she knew there was no going back. Her dreams had been quenched. Her family had rejected her. Now she was about to lose her own body in exchange for a simpler one.

    She knew she had no choice. It was either this or the Dead End.

    "All right," she said. "I'm up for the job."

    The officer smiled. "Glad to hear it. Just stop by the base in Iacon. Tell them Prowl sent you."

--Present--

    "Hey, you found it!"

    Arcee shook her head as she snapped out of her reverie, realizing that she was holding Bumblebee's toy in her hand, about to set it aside.

    "Oh. Er...." She handed it to him. "There you go, then."

    "Thanks!" Bumblebee eagerly took the doll from her, looking at it with childish awe. "This always brings me back, you know. I downloaded every episode of his show to my processor and put them on constant replay throughout the day. He was my biggest inspiration in becoming an Autobot."

    Arcee smirked as she got to her feet. "You do know his actor joined the Decepticons, right?"

    Bumblebee's expression become one of disbelief. "WHAT?!"

    "Yeah. He was one of Megatron's top spies. Optimus captured him on Kaiba-5. I thought you knew that."

    "Wait, you mean Overload? Overload played Bombast Major?" Bumblebee slapped a servo over his forehead. "Oh my god. I always wondered why they looked so similar." He then looked up at her 

expectantly. "Hey, you joined same time I did. What inspired you to become an Autobot?"

    Arcee hesitated to answer. To do so would be giving Bumblebee an insight into an aspect of life she did not care to have him know of just yet. As her mind raced for an answer, a white and black figure suddenly appeared outside the doorway.

    "Arcee," Prowl said. "Do you have a minute?"

    Grateful for the interruption, she turned to face him. "Yes. What do you need?"

    "Elita-One wants to meet with you at Maccadam's. She says the two of you are long overdue for a time to catch up. Do you want me to tell her you'll be there?"

    Arcee said nothing at first, taken aback by his words. After all these years, she never once thought any of her sisters ever wanted to speak with her again. Then again, Elita-One, being the eldest, had always been the wisest among them and perhaps this offer was genuine.

    Nodding firmly, she said, "Yes. Tell her I'll be there."

    Even though she never was for me, she left unsaid.