May 7, 2005
God how time has flown by. It's been fifteen years that I have been in Cybertron. Fifteen years of fights, disagreements, love and companionship.
A lot of shit has happened over the years.
Out of Sentinels two students, only one was chosen to fit the role as the leader of the Autobots.
Orion Pax, now named Optimus Prime, was not only chosen by Sentinel, but he also had the approval of the first of the Cybertronians; Primus himself. Something that definitely did not fall into Megatrons processor the right way.
Once he took over, Jazz was promoted to First Lieutenant, the mechs ego getting way worse than it was.
The Triplets were promoted to spies, something that the three usually composed femmes took way to seriously.
Ironhide kept his position, the only thing different is that once Sentinel named Optimus, the latter assigned him to be the new Primes bodyguard. Even though Optimus has clearly stated various times that he doesn't need one, the faithful Weapon Specialist doesn't listen.
Crosshairs is still the Weapon Tactician, the only difference is that he holds the official tittle of Sharpshooter. His good aim on the field being the detonator to this name.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are now officially Front Liners. Optimus decided to keep them together like this once he saw how they work on the field. He even went far as to call them The Terror Twins, the horrors that those two do out there clearly scarred the Prime.
Ratchet was promoted to Chief Medical Officer while Jolt still holds his previous title, Medic Assistant.
And Bumblebee... oh Christ.
My little mech grew up to be quite the fighter, mixing the art of his new weapons—gifted by Ironhide—and hand to hand combat techniques. He sometimes shows off a lot during training, earning a glare from Ironhide and a low chuckle form the Prime.
He's currently seventeen earth years old. His teenager attitude sometimes makes me want to dent his helm, but I hold myself knowing—and accepting—that I was once like this too. Everyone once was.
His big frame is the same size as Ironhides, only just a tad bit smaller. I've been told by Ratchet that the mech will not transfer into another new, bigger frame anymore. And that's fine by me.
Because I definitely don't want to know what will happen if he keeps growing.
I remember the time when Optimus called me and a twelve year old Bee over to the meeting room. Where he told me that my boy was old enough to enter the Cybertronian Army. I had a fit and actually punched Optimus' pedes, braking the shit out of my hand and making both mechs in the room scared shitless.
After Ratchet and the Energon in my system cured my hand, I was able to talk to the Prime alone. Where I had asked him to place him in a least compromised position in the Army, while also keeping the bot safe during training. He immediately agreed and assigned him with the title of Scout, and till this day, he has not let his word go to waste.
My relationship with everybot has changed, at least on the ones that hated me in the beginning.
We all see eye to optic in everything, which is good for me.
Ratchet has become like a crazed partner in crime. With the wisdom of the elders, but the attitude of a married troubled man.
Optimus has turned into my big brother, the one I always wanted but never had. Whenever something went wrong, he was always leaving his duties behind and attending me, regardless if I ever protested.
Jazz turned into my after training pillow, since he was always sitting down not doing shit, I would come and rest on him. He didn't like it at first, but he was able to warm up.
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have turned into the little, mischievous brothers I didn't have. Both mechs warmed up to me and ever since then, we're known as The Trouble Trio. Whenever we're bored, we'll always go and prank someone around Cybertron.
Crosshairs is still the same cocky bastard. Only that now he's twenty times worse.
The Triplets have also warmed up to me, to the point where we sometimes gather up and gossip like schoolgirls.
Jolt has become my teacher, in a way. He taught me everything about Cybertronians and their anatomy. He also took his time teaching me their language, including slangs and swearwords.
And Ironhide, he has turned into a lifelong companion. We are closer than ever before. Something I'm totally contempt with.
Apart from my guardian, he's my best friend. The one that every person searches for throughout their whole life.
His behavior and mood have improved over the years, granting me with the sight of a new bot. He opens up more, jokes around, laughs, and even smiles.
And maybe, we sometimes flirt with each other. Too much.
I'm stating to think that my cockiness has passed on to him.
As of right now, I'm standing in the Medbay, waiting for Ratchets results to come up. Lately I've been having trouble with my abilities.
Yes, abilities. Long story short, once not too long ago, I had a crazed dream, or so I thought.
Where I was standing in a place full of rocks and metal, an enormous robotic being in my sights. The mech told me about some 'destiny' he had for me. Said that since the Cybertronians have protected me, it's my turn to protect them.
Since then I've been able to create strange things with my hands, like shields, force fields, and balls of energy. It all comes with the faint color of Energon, so it leads me to think that I'm going to become something more.
I was a crazed shit when I found out I could do such things, and even more when I commented the dream to Optimus, Ratchet and Jazz, the three confirming that who I actually saw was Primus.
"You don't seem to be getting much rest, are you?."
I sigh and run a hand down my face.
"I don't have time to rest, Ratch. Not with the weight of everything."
"Just because Primus revealed part of his destiny for you doesn't mean that you have to offline yourself in such a way. I'm sure he won't mind a few hours of recharge. Not when you're his chosen."
"He's right, carrier. It will not do you or Primus any good."
I look back at Bumblebee, the young teenagers faceplate showing nothing but concern. I sigh and look back at the medic, who nods in agreement with the scout.
"But traini—."
Ratchet waves his servos in my face, shutting me up in the process.
"Training can wait, your health is more important. We're all worried for you, Optimus, the twins, Ironhide, Bumblebee; scrap, even I am worried. You're overworking yourself."
I run my hands through my face, a look of displeasure taking over. The medic says a few more things that I don't clearly listen to, and start walking off, my son hot in my heals.
"Please tell me you will rest, please?."
"I can't rest Bee, I need to be ready, for whatever Primus' next step is."
"I'm sure he won't be troubled that you get some rest."
I roll my shoulders in reflex, an excruciating pain rattling me to the core, the soreness taking its toll.
A couple of minutes pass and we arrive at our room, one that Optimus assigned for Bee and I once he was big enough, since he figured that Ironhide wouldn't be too fond of the idea of having a grown mech and a femme in the same room.
Bumblebee opens the door, letting me in first.
Momma raised him right.
I smile in a silent thanking and walk over to my berth, which consists on a bunch of pillows and blankets that were part of the Stations mission. The mech goes over to his table and sets down one of the cannons he's been working on.
The love for cannons and explosives are definitely inherited from his uncle.
That day was gold, when a four year old Bee called Ironhide uncle. The old bot almost had a spark attack, but he recovered quickly and even though he tried to prevent him from saying it again, the idea was never drilled into the younglings helm.
"Is it alright if Uncle Ironhide comes to help me, carrier?."
I mentally sigh, the mech and I have been having really strange encounters lately.
I give in and shrug my shoulders, a low 'yes darling' exiting my lips, this being caught by the mechs audio receptors.
Silence falls for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room being Bumblebees pedes lightly thumping. All to be interrupted by a knock at the door.
Out of the many things I had to teach all of my friends, the prioritized one was to always knock before entering someones living quarters. It took a shit ton of tries and countless heart attacks, but they eventually learned.
The door opens and the slender figure of our mutual friend appears, a large crazy grin setting once he spots me.
I wonder when will Ratchet give me a communication link, or at least, something to hear them talk.
I roll my eyes and turn my back to them, hearing how both bots talk in their language.
"What the frag did you do now, kid? I told you, you cannot load a bullet in while the nuzzle is spinning."
"I got confused, I had the image of the gun in my processor."
"Learn it up, kid. A cannons nuzzle spins, a guns, doesn't. A cannon needs a minimum of four seconds to cool down to fire again. A guns fire rate is continuous. Now you've clogged up the cannon, give it to me, I'll fix it up, but I don't want to see you treating it like the wrong weapon again. Clear?."
"Yes, sir."
"Good, now get going, your training's about to start."
I hear how the teenage mech runs out of the room, no footsteps going behind him. I cringe when the bots face comes into my view, a look of amusement and betrayal in his optics.
"With this attitude, I might as well tell Doc Bot that he's got a femme version of him."
I turn over, glaring at him with all my might. Him finding it amusing, laughs like a crazed bitch, placing both servos on the ground.
"Why don't you go and fuck yourself."
He snorts, a playful look in his faceplate.
"Can't, spikey doesn't reach such lengths."
I gag at his words, the mech finding it amusing and laughing. I totally regret teaching him the art of sarcasm.
Now, my mother used to always say; 'don't call the devil if you don't want to see him coming', but hey, she's not here, I'm a grown ass woman, this bitch bot is getting horny and I'm gonna add fuel to the fire. Just because.
"I can make it reach, want some help?."
The flirtatious tone in my voice makes the Weapon Specialist stop his laughter, a coughing fit taking over. I snicker at this, knowing how much he fought for verbal dominance.
And how he hates loosing.
He clears his throat—of I don't know what—and lowers his face towards mine, the cold metal of his jaw touching my stomach while his optics dig into mine.
"I would appreciate it, when can we start, sweetspark?."
I grab his jaw and bring him closer, the cool metal now in my face, from my place I can clearly hear the loud thrum of his spark, while at the same time, a low set of clicks and turns.
"How about the day when you're human? It will be much more fun, believe me."
He vents at this, quickly scrambling to his feet while I do the same, walking to the far side of the room where I take the first shirt I see.
Swinging the one I'm wearing over my head, I hear how the previous sound of clicks turns into a deafening sound. The now loud sound of his erratic spark making my lips quirk up in pleasure and amusement.
I watch in a small hand mirror that's propped up on the wall the face of the mech.
He fumbles in his two pedes, optics shooting everywhere while light, almost unnoticeable breaths leave him. His spark chamber completely opened, his big blue spark humming with pride and longing. I notice how the plates in his interface panel shuffle trying to stay closed, the aroused Autobot trying to keep his emotions and body in check.
I chuckle darkly, knowing how I've won yet another battle of domination. I pull the new shirt over my head and turn around to head towards the door. I smirk more at the low 'frag' that comes from his dermas.
It is now that I notice that I've put on a revealing shirt. Well, not that revealing. It's a simple cotton crop top that has its chest cut out, granting me freedom in my neck and chest.
I tap his foot while keeping my destination in mind.
"Don't be late for training, again."
The equivalent of a low whine comes out of his voice box, letting me know that he's still in his high. My fluent Cybertronian amazing me more everyday.