Static.
Everything, staticky.
Systems are slowly coming back online.
Optics are restored to working order, just barely.
Gray floor, gray walls; rather monotone. Oh, look, a light! Red? Usually not a good sign. Let's see, what else? Ah, stupid visual feed, work! By the Allspark, there we go!
As his vision cleared, the mech noted the finer details of his surroundings. He was lying in a large, square cell, of which the three seemingly open sides were blocked by a near-invisible energy barrier. He reached out to touch the closest one, to test power output.
"PRIMUS!"
The mech bolted upright onto his knees, cradling singed digits close to his chassis.
"That hurt!"
He flicked his servo, attempting to cool it off. The movement stung, but it had the desired effect.
"Okay, never doing that again."
Except maybe in an emergency.
The mech shuddered at the thought.
I hope it doesn't come to that.
Crackling static – not from him – alerted the mech to another presence. In one corner of the cell is a speaker and a video camera. Optics narrowing, the mech rises and approaches the devices.
"Hello?"
{Uh... I, hello? Can you hear me?}
"Yes."
{Oh. Good! Glad to hear! Standby for a moment.}
"It's not like I can go anywhere."
The response wasn't immediate.
{R...Right, sorry. I mean, not really, but... uh... oh, Captain! I...I was, uh... just about to... I... yes, ma-am, I'll shut up now.}
Silence fell for about a minute, then, suddenly, a whole other room, filled with humans and machines, appeared before the mech's optics.
"What the..."
{I would explain, but it's all pretty self-explanatory, really, and honestly, I don't have the time to go into detail. I am much more interested in what your kind are doing back here, Autobot.}
Bumblebee nearly jumped out of his plating. Not wanting to give these humans the satisfaction of scaring him, he merely blinked and forced himself to stand still. Except for his helm, which lowered so he could look at whoever he was conversing with. The set-up closest to his cell had a man positioned on each end. A third man, the one he was most likely talking to before, stood at attention behind a woman in the center. Pale skin stood out against a dark, sharp suit, and even sharper, darker eyes. Her hair is short, black with silver highlights, possibly due to aging despite appearing to be somewhere in her thirties or forties.
"And you are?"
{Jane Doe.}
Bumblebee cocked an optical ridge.
"Why do I have the feeling that isn't actually your name?"
{It isn't, and I plan to keep it that way. We don't need to know each other personally for this relationship to work.}
"Considering I'm pretty sure I know who you are, and you know that I know, I'd say we're far past personal. Your group left quite the nasty little impression the few times we swapped unpleasantries."
Jane Doe smirked.
{Hostility towards the continued existence of MECH is duly noted, Autobot.}
Bumblebee continued to glare at the human as she took out a clipboard and pen.
{Before we get started, would you be willing to give us your name?}
No answer.
Jane Doe sighed and shook her head.
{I suppose we'll continue to call you Autobot, then. Thank goodness your buddy is a Decepticon, or else this would have proven to be annoying.}
The woman spared Bumblebee a glance. Her smirk widened once she realized that she got under the mech's plating. While there was no change to the untrained eye, Jane Doe had a knack for reading people – technically, in this case, human-like robots from outer space.
{Which reminds me...}
Jane Doe places the clipboard and pen down, then leans forward, resting her elbows on the console and head on top of her interlaced fingers.
{Based on my research thus far, Autobots and Decepticons are enemies, but when my men found you, well, let's just say they were shocked you weren't trying to kill each other, especially when you were one of the Autobots that came to our planet years ago. I can only assume your respective factions came to some sort of accord?}
Bumblebee blanked.
What was he supposed to do?
Giving his helm a slight shake, the only important thing that he can do anything about comes to mind right then and there.
"Where is he?"
Jane Doe's smirk remains, unsettling Bumblebee, but he refuses to be put-off. Not until he sees Thunderhoof, at least. He needs to know if his fellow Cybertronian is alright. The human presses a button and flips a switch. A few seconds pass without anything happening.
There's a loud buzz, startling Bumblebee and causing him to jump. He wasn't expecting that, so he'll let his slip of resolve slide, this time. He looks around and notices the barrier to his left dissipating. The humans are giving him access to the neighboring cell. The second he sees cobalt blue armor, Bumblebee doesn't think and just runs right in.
"Thunderhoof!"
Bumblebee kneels beside the unconscious Ex-Con, gently grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him over. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, no extra damage as far as he can tell.
{In case you're wondering, we were careful when it came to your friend's transportation.}
Bumblebee casts a glare over his shoulder before returning all of his attention onto Thunderhoof. The Cervicon was starting to move on his own, much to Bumblebee's relief.
"Thank the Primes, you're still..."
In his haste to check on Thunderhoof, Bumblebee forgot the cardinal rule. Just seconds after rubbing his servo along the Cervicon's antlers, feeling for any cracks or burns, his wrist was yanked away and held in an iron grip.
"Don't. Touch. The antlers."
"S...Sorry, Thunderhoof, I forgot!" Bumblebee gritted out through clenched jaws. He tried to free his servo with his, well, free servo, but to no avail.
"Hey, could you, maybe, let go now?"
Thunderhoof grumbled something that Bumblebee, despite his close proximity, couldn't make out. Still, he was relieved that Thunderhoof was awake, as grumpy as ever, and, if the previous action was anything to go by, retains most of his strength. He is released from the tight grip and rubs the afflicted area. He doesn't pay too much mind, though, as his priority is Thunderhoof's health.
Bumblebee keeps a close optic on Thunderhoof as he slowly but surely comes to his senses. He pushes himself up off the floor, a pained grunt escaping him. He carefully repositions himself, leaning and putting most of his weight on his right side while outstretching his injured left leg.
"Oh, Thunderhoof..." Bumblebee vented, not liking the sight before him.
Sure, MECH may have been careful about handling them, but clearly, they weren't interested in them being in tip-top order. So long as they were still functional, or their frames salvageable... Bumblebee shakes his helm, not wanting to go there. Instead, he focuses on Thunderhoof, another big, tough, blue Decepticon mech... Nope, just making things worse.
"Yous gonna quit lookin' at me like I'm dead or somethin'?" Thunderhoof asked.
"Yes! Yes, sorry!" Bumblebee exclaimed. He has to remind himself: this isn't the time to be focusing on the past, not when he has someone else to worry about on top of everything else!
"I'm just glad you're alright, though you have seen better days."
Thunderhoof blinks, then looks down. His chassis is still charred, and some of the cracks that were sealed have reopened. There are no signs of Energon leakage, but neither mech is certain if that's entirely a good thing.
"Eh, I've had worse," Thunderhoof shrugs, as if it's no big deal.
"That's not making me feel better!" Bumblebee snapped.
"Ain't tryin' to make ya feel better. Just tellin' the truth."
Thunderhoof vented and averted his gaze.
"Don't know why I bother with the way yous Autobots work."
Bumblebee didn't retort. He wasn't in the mood to start an argument with Thunderhoof, especially in front of MECH, who were surprisingly quiet and patient while the two reacclimated to each other's presence.
"Sorry, Thunderhoof, but I'm beyond stressed right now, and the only thing I can think of doing is, for lack of a better term, fussing over you," Bumblebee said. He reached out for the Cervicon, stopping short of his damaged chassis.
"If you want to keep being honest, then how are you feeling?"
Thunderhoof didn't immediately respond. He hesitated, only looking up at Bumblebee for a moment before turning to the other's servo mere inches away from his chassis. A slight rumble escaped his vocalizer as he contemplated something.
Surprising Bumblebee, Thunderhoof took his servo and dragged it closer to his chassis. He pressed it flat against the split, charred plating, and held it there for a moment. Bumblebee wasn't sure for how long, though, as he felt frozen in time. The amount of trust he's just been given: Thunderhoof – consciously, knowingly, willingly – is allowing him, Bumblebee, an Autobot – aka his enemy – to approach him – and handle him, to some extent – when he's vulnerable.
"As fine as I can be, I suppose," Thunderhoof answered.
"Good, that's good," Bumblebee vented, allowing the smallest of smiles to adorn his faceplate.
{Would you two like some privacy?}
Bumblebee completely forgot about the humans for a second there. He accidently shoved Thunderhoof away, eliciting another pained grunt. The yellow and black mech stood and turned on his heel, frowning down at the humans.
"What?"
{We will continue this at a later date. I doubt you'll be cooperative with your priorities currently elsewhere.}
Before Bumblebee could speak another word, Jane Doe disabled – or enabled; Bumblebee isn't going to bother figuring that one out – something that blocked their view of the humans.
"I... She just... What just happened?"
"Did yous have to push me?" Thunderhoof asked, ignoring his cell-mate's personal conundrum in favor of tending to his wounds.
Bumblebee vented, shook his helm, and turned back around. Carefully, he helped Thunderhoof over to the singular solid wall and leaned him against it.
"It's not like I did it on purpose," Bumblebee muttered, taking a seat next to the Ex-Con.
Thunderhoof just huffed.
The cell was quiet for a while.
"These the humans yous were worried about?" Thunderhoof whispered.
"Yeah..." Bumblebee trailed, wrapping his arms around his legs.
"Swell."