#tfabulkhead

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH ! 🌈🏳‍🌈

Chapter 2.2

It wasn’t uncommon for death-row prisoners in Kaon to request final visits from old friends, but even the expressionless minicons seemed shocked today to see Optimus Prime’s name under Megatron’s on the visitor’s list.

     Wardens chattered in the halls as Optimus passed through cellblock after cellblock before entering a stiffly guarded containment cubicle designed for only the most highly dangerous of criminals. Kaon didn’t house many prisoners. Most Autobots were reliable enough as citizens, although some legislative changes had landed a number of black market dealers and vandals behind laser bars in the past couple hundred thousand stellar cycles. Naturally, it had been a long time since the last Autobot prisoner was sent to Trypticon on charges of treason. Instead, they were normally detained in the Elite Guard stockades. The Decepticon prisoners here were few, each of them bound to spend a lifetime within Trypticon’s thick plated walls. Optimus looked only forward as he – led by a minicon guide – passed Lugnut, Blitzwing and Shockwave going down a lonely corridor. Megatron was at the end. Four Elite Guard sentries guarded each threateningly powerful Decepticon officer. Optimus’s escort nodded his approval at the guards by Megatron’s cell who stepped aside to let the two of them pass through the first of three transparent laser gates that contained the inmate.

     Megatron sat in stasis cuffs behind the third gate. He looked tired, as if he had gotten no sleep since their last encounter, but anger flickered in his optics as his looked, almost eye to eye in his seated position, at Optimus Prime. 

     “You have ten cycles,” The minicon stepped back and the laser walls were replaced. No one could hear their conversation now. There was a tense moment when nobot said anything, and then Megatron sighed.

     “Optimus Prime,” His words came painfully slow. “I am delighted that you accepted my invitation.” His face said otherwise.

     The pistons under Optimus’s chest plate quickened their rotations, but he stood erect, servos clasped behind him “What is it, Megatron?” he spat.

     His nemesis was unhurried, though, and his words came gradually. “I have something to tell you, something that concerns you. Surely it comes as no surprise to you that I do not plan to let the weak will of mere Autobots dictate my fate, and because you have developed a seemingly inexorable interest in my plans for the Decepticons, I want you to remain informed.”

     Optimus squinted, “Informed of what?”

     Megaton glanced around his cell, “Omega Supreme… your pitiful crew… this place… it is all fleeting. In the wake of my empire, it shall all crumble.”

     Optimus rolled his optics. “Give it up Megatron. Your vision of a destroyed Cybertron and an enslaved generation of Autobots will never come to pass. You’re to be executed.” He looked inwardly for a moment before continuing, “But if it were up to me, you’d stay here forever.”

     “Ah, yes. How poetic it would be for a ‘narcissistic tyrant’ such as myself to slowly rot in prison, out of the public eye, while you – a worthless Autobot annoyance – to be worshiped as a hero by the fickle, uneducated masses.” Megatron chuckled at the thought. “I understand the average citizen. They are sure to forget about you just as soon as a fitting replacement comes along.”

     At this, their tense silence resumed, and the guards motioned to Optimus that only one cycle remained.

     As he nodded affirmatively in the guards’ direction, Optimus slowly internalized Megatron’s assessment of himself, not knowing how best to reply. The warlord, however, was at no loss for words and nodded as he provided closing remarks. “You tried so hard to make something of yourself, didn’t you? I’ve learned all about your life during my time here – everyone on Cybertron has.” Megatron cracked a cruel smile, “How you were disgraced by your own: left to rust on space bridge commission. How embarrassing. Needless to say, it was a short and rather uninteresting story.” 

     That’s it. Optimus turned aside and considered leaving prematurely. I don’t have to put up with this, he thought.

     Megatron’s voice rose in an attempt to recapture his attention, “You know, I’ve decided that I will remember your name... yes.” Megatron stretched the syllable, “History would want me to remember it – remember you: the ‘bot who stood in the way of the great Megatron, and who even now, after his pretend heroics, is without recognition and without a future.”

     “Time!” someone behind Optimus shouted. Optimus barely heard the laser gates reopen and his mind whirred as he was escorted hurriedly outside of Trypticon, outside Kaon. Standing just beyond the fortified border of Kaon, he wondered, What was that all about? There’s no hope for Megatron now. His officers incarcerated, his forces scattered and disillusioned… he’s going to be executed in nine solar cycles, for Spark’s sake!

Chapter 2.1

    It wasn’t time to head back to earth yet. The team would have an Elite Guard escort assigned to them for their return trip, but until then, they would wait at a residential area just outside of Iacon, which scads of maintenance workers called home. Some worked in Cybertron’s underground, unclogging pipes that would stop up with time and refreshing the planet’s lubrication and subterranean oil supply. Others were aboveground specialists. Still others operated in deep space, assuring that Cybertron’s moons and sister planets were orbiting free of obstructions, assessing the condition of the large windscape flags that deflected solar storms from the Commonwealth and clearing space bridges.

    It was here that most of Optimus Prime’s crew lived whenever their spacebridge repair duties brought them back to Cybertron. The camp was no-frills, built to satisfy only the basic needs of its inhabitants. Even so, most Cybertronians were content with its basic accommodations.

    On the other hand, Sari had been raised in the modern, opulent, comfortable shelter of Sumdac Tower from the moment she was born. Things changed when her father went missing. Having to stay in the crew’s makeshift base in an old car manufacturing plant for upwards of six months was difficult at first. Living with friends made life easier, though and she soon grew accustomed to the plant’s drab colors, undecorated rooms and unconventional layout.

    Seeing the Autobot barracks for the first time made her appreciate her friends’ sympathy for that downtrodden and neglected base, which, despite its charmless halls, was still considered home to them. The rows of apartments here emitted a pseudo-suburban feel, and the sense of neighborly connection that Sari sensed in most any human township was replaced by a cold closeness, as if you were alone in the world: one of many sardines in a can.

    Again, most Autobots wouldn’t mind, but Sari felt claustrophobic as she stood with Bumblebee and Bulkhead near the entrance to one of the studio apartments.

    “Sooo…” Sari said, standing in the apartment’s doorway, just one human-sized step away from the main room. “This is Optimus’s place, huh?”

    “Yeah,” Bulkhead replied, “looks more like a library than living quarters, though.”

    These types of small, three-room dwellings were standard issue to most spacebridge crewbots, who inevitably didn’t spend much time at home. Other than the living room, a single storage room and a bedroom were the dwelling’s only other commodities. Understandably, it was somewhat of a downgrade from Optimus’s old Autobot Academy dorm where two to four students could enjoy spaces for study, lifestyle and exercise. Clearly, the lack of creature comforts in the maintenance district had not stopped Optimus from learning all he could in his down time. His living space was clearly too small to hold the plethora of learning materials a former dedicated student would own.

    Spacebridge repair meant working far from civilization for stellar centuries at a time. Orbital cycles of searching out problem areas in the network meant a crew only cleared a bridge about once every two deca-cycles. Despite the mundane and laborious nature of this work, diligent crews would be given a stellar cycle’s leave after returning to Cybertron. Some crewbots got together with old friends or enjoyed a vacation on a moon base, but Optimus spent his time in study, sometimes even volunteering at Iacon’s datatrax library as an assistant bookkeeper. Before coming to earth, ‘home’ for him became wherever a treasure trove of knowledge was.

    Bumblebee and Bulkhead were more the generic type. They essentially stuck together whether or not they were at work, sometimes exploring the corners and byroads of Iacon, other times enjoying day visits to familiar spots. One stellar cycle, the two visited Bulkhead’s hometown on Moon Base One. Bumblebee had never been to the moons before and remembered the atmosphere being denser than on Cybertron and the erupting energon deposits made the air slightly pinkish. Nevertheless, the amiable robots that lived there fit Bulkhead’s easygoing personality perfectly. They were unassuming, slow moving and mostly hospitable, save a few curmudgeonly farming folk. Bulkhead was lucky to be reared up around ‘bots that encouraged his early interest in spacebridges and his then-grandiose aspirations of moving to the “big city” before his boot camp days.

    Bumblebee wasn’t protofromed into that kind of environment, but into the overpopulated city of Kalis. He quickly discovered that he had to fight his way to the top of the heap if he ever wanted to become something more than a generic cog: a face in the crowd. Ironically, Bulkhead always seemed totally content with life, even though – in opposition to Bumblebee’s reach-for-the-stars mentality – he tended to set relatively low expectations for himself. Bumblebee could count on one servo the times that Bulkhead had complained or, like him, stared forlornly into the eyes of fate longing for something more in life to pop up and give him purpose. It didn’t matter if the two of them were on Cybertron or on an asteroid. Bulkhead was always kind. And being hailed as heroes on earth for the last two stellar cycles hadn’t altered him either.

    The two of friends had been to their commander’s modest compartment before and felt the same sense of something erudite gushing out from behind every row of shelves and neatly stacked mound of notes in cybertronian lettering. Unceremoniously, Sari scrambled up of one of the stacks and sat with her hands in her lap. “Too bad we have to wait here all day. I can’t even read this stuff.”

    “Well,” Bulhkhead began, “we don’t have to stay here. It’s just that this is your first time on Cybertron and we don’t want anybot getting on edge if they see you. Besides, Prime will be here soon; he just had to go to Kaon for that official visit he was talking about.”

   Rathcet was also incapacitated, as he had been called to meet with Perceptor and the Science Guild to discuss the status and argue the fate of Omega Supreme.

    At that moment, Bumblebee had one of his trademark bright ideas, the kind that were always bound to end in collateral damage and a firm scolding from Optimus. Voicing his opinion on the matter of staying in all day, he said, “Sari’s right, though! This place is a bore. All we can do here is walk in circles!” He waved his arms in the air. “There’s got to be some place in Iacon that we can take her so she won’t be seen.”

    “Cool! Sightseeing!” Sari agreed.

    Bulkhead squinted, deep in thought. “I don’t know, Bumblebee. You know what happened last time we left the team without telling anyone.”

    Bulkhead had a point there. Two months ago, the threesome had abandoned monitor duty in the plant for an exploratory adventure into the heart of Detroit.

    Still Bumblebee was steadfast, “Hey! We busted that green ring, didn’t we? Well, didn’t we?!?”

    Sari concurred, “Aaaand, prevented that gang war. It was all really educational, too! I never knew Detroit was so seedy!”

    Bumblebee fidgeted. “C’mon, Bulkhead. Nothing that bad could possibly happen here. This is our home. There are no supervillains or Porter C. Powell’s to slow us down. Besides! She’ll be right with us the whole time. We know this city.”

    Bulkhead glanced one more time at the room of books then rolled his eyes in surrender. “Fine, but I choose where we go, got it?”

    “Yeah, Yeah. Absolutely!” Bumblebee said, transforming to car mode, “Hop in Sari! I’ve got an idea of where we can go!”