The Lost Light . . .
" . . . You want me to call Swerve?" Gears asked. She knew that Red Alert was the bar keeper's roommate, and she could only guess at how he'd react to this predicament. It'd most likely be several weeks of sobbing, or endless chatter. Whichever Swerve's brain molecule decided to do first.
"No," Rodimus replied, a frown across his face. His hands were balled into tight fists and his teeth were crunched down into a grit. There was a fire burning in his optics. "But I know what I'm going to do to Cyclonus."
"You can't possibly suspect him," Goldgears said. "You have no evidence. No conviction. How could the Decepticon possibly be the perpetrator? You're jumping to unexplainable conclusions - with no evidence, may I repeat again - Roddy Hottie. Perhaps - "
The Prime ignored the chattering femme and contacting the Decepticon. He had his reasons to why he suspected Cyclonus, and let alone they were good reasons at that. He was the captain, and he himself wondered why the gold femme was questioning him.
He glanced Gears and Drift's direction, then walked past them, exiting the reservoir without further word. The white samurai sighed. He wondered why Rodimus was like that; calm when needed, but a complete jumper when unneeded. It was just something that Drift couldn't figure out.
"That isn't justified," Gears said, removing Drift from his thoughts.
"That's Rodimus," Drift replied. "He probably just contact Ratchet, then he called Cyclonus. Cyclonus is - "
With a loud stomping coming through the doorway, a small Autobot rushed past the two. Blue optics, a small form, and a gentle face. It was probably First Aid. Gears had passed him on her way to her habitation suite her very first day on the ship. He seemed as though he was truly good at his job.
But the only thing Gears was worried about at the moment was whether she should contact Swerve or not, though he probably wouldn't care.
"Best let First Aid do what he does best," Drift said. "And we should meet up with Rodimus."
"I've always had quite the difficult time trusting Decepticons," Goldgears said as they walked down the stretching corridor, crossing her arms, and looking at Drift with an optic ridge raised. She was honestly expecting a reaction. "But I don't think Cyclonus did it."
It took a few moments for Drift to look back at her.
"You don't even know him," he said. "If you knew Cyclonus. you'd be believing Rodimus when he - "
"Says this Cyclonus murdered a fellow crew mate?" The femme intervened. "I call ludicrous!"
"You call?!" Drift asked.
"Balderdash." Gears said, dramatically throwing her hands in the air. "If I knew that this is what this ship did, I would've never agreed to that bet."
"What bet?" Drift raised an optic ridge.
"I'm here because I lost in a bet," the femme informed him. "I was planning on not letting anyone know. So don't begin running your lips about it, Drift."
"I'd never," the samurai said with a grin as he walked into Rodimus's office, but his expression quickly soured as he spotted Cyclonus sitting at a table, just staring downward. Drift too felt as though he was guilty; something about his posture and lack of eye-contact.
Goldgears just stared in through the glass. She didn't want to be in there, especially if a fight broke out. Primus knew she wasn't a fighter. If anything, far from it. She couldn't beat Trailcutter or Whirl. How would she handle herself in the middle of a brawl she didn't even begin? She knew the story; she definitely wouldn't fare well.
YOU ARE READING
A Darker Side [Transformers]Fanfiction
(Voted best OC, Best OC/Canon Romance, Canon Interpretation, and best MTMTE Plotline in the TransformersFFAwards!) She was just caught up in the remains of a simple bet, and she believed that they were just flying around in a ship. But it turned out...