After Atlantis, Part 5

[anon_decepticon]

Title: After Atlantis, Part Five
Author: anon_decepticon
Rating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Wheeljack, Bumblebee, Trailbreaker, Ratchet, various others.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers. Part 1 references scenes from the G1 Season 2 episode “Atlantis, Arise!” Part 4 references scenes from the next episode, “Day of the Machines.” Parts 5 and 6 reference scenes (and quote some dialogue) from ”Enter the Nightbird.” These portions of the fic are not mine.
Warning(s): PTSD angst, references to rape.
Summary: Raped by Starscream, Wheeljack struggles to cope.
Author's Note: Originally a kink meme prompt, this fic ended up going in a decidedly non-smutty direction. Parts 1 and 2 appear on the meme, concluding with a brief epilogue. Parts 3, 4, and 5 detail the scenes described in that epilogue. From part 6 on, it’s all new ground! Thanks to my readers for sticking with me, and special thanks to the ever-helpful kookaburra1701, who's been kind enough to take time out of her busy schedule to pre-screen my fics and tell me what works and what doesn't.



The common room was crowded.

Several ‘Bots were clustered around the vidscreen, watching one of the human soap operas. Wheeljack had never really seen the appeal of such programs, but they were popular with a lot of the Autobots, the minibots in particular.

A number of other ‘Bots were scattered about the room, seated at tables or standing in small groups, exchanging jokes, small talk and gossip as they consumed their morning energon rations.

Wheeljack headed for the energon dispenser, planning to grab a cube and make a quick exit. He didn’t really relish the thought of socializing in his present state of mind, and he didn’t think he could take any more inquiries into his health or well-being. Knowing the penchant for gossip at such gatherings made him especially uneasy – the longer he remained present and visible, the more likely some ‘Bot would decide to make him the topic of their conversation.

He managed to get his cube without anything more strenuous than a brief greeting or two, and turned to leave.

That was when he noticed them.

Bumblebee, Spike and Sparkplug were huddled together in a corner, previously overlooked because their position was shielded from view by the intervening clusters of conversing mechs. Their bent postures and serious expressions made it clear they weren’t engaging in the usual morning banter.

Wheeljack had a pretty good idea what topic they were discussing.

A flare of anger shot through his spark. His hands twitched, the left sloshing the energon in his cube, the right tightening into a fist. How dare they talk about him behind his back! It wasn’t any of their slagging business!

He was an astroklik away from storming over there and giving them a piece of his processor when Bumblebee suddenly looked up.

Their optics met.

His anger was suddenly swept away in a cold wash of fear. He looked away quickly, but out of the corner of his optic he could see Bumblebee exchanging a few tense words with the two humans and rising from his seat.

Wheeljack’s spark fluttered in panic, his processor scrambling for a means of escape. There was no way he could leave the room before Bumblebee reached him without his flight being obvious; he was too far from the door. Maybe he could pretend to be occupied..?

Three quick – but not too quick – strides brought him to an empty seat at an occupied table. He sat down without preamble, setting his cube in front of him.

“Wheeljack?” Trailbreaker – the current occupant of said table – said in surprise, regarding him with startled optics.

“Hey, Trailbreaker,” Wheeljack greeted him, vocal indicators flashing in a friendly manner. “Sorry, do you mind if I sit here? You weren’t waiting for someone, were you?”

“N-no…” Trailbreaker stammered. “Well, actually, yes, I was waiting for Hound, but–“

“Oh, sorry,” Wheeljack apologized, still watching Bumblebee out of the corner of his optic.

Bumblebee appeared stymied by this new development; he’d stopped in his tracks and now stood hesitantly halfway between his own table and Wheeljack’s, looking uncertain. Given the subject Wheeljack suspected he intended to pursue, he figured it was unlikely Bumblebee would broach it in front of an audience.

“Crowded this morning,” he commented. “I should probably just take my cube back to the lab –”

“You don’t have to do that,” Trailbreaker said quickly. “I mean, that is, I was saving the seat for Hound, but he’s not here yet, so – so you can stay, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Bumblebee seemed to have come to a decision; he’d returned to the table where Spike and Sparkplug sat waiting, and they had returned to their huddle.

“I guess I could stick around until Hound gets here,” Wheeljack relented. “When he does, I’ll clear out.”

“Or you could join us,” Trailbreaker offered.

“There’s only two seats,” he pointed out.

“Oh…right. Well, we could go somewhere else, I guess. Or some of the others might have left by then...”

“Sure, maybe,” Wheeljack replied agreeably, glancing back at the other table. Bumblebee and the two humans were now leaving the common room; he watched surreptitiously as they made their way toward the door.

It was all he could do not to slump over in relief. Instead he reached for his cube and took a sip, feeling the tension ease from his shoulder-struts.

“Working on any new inventions?” Trailbreaker asked hopefully.

It was an obvious conversational gambit, made to avoid an awkward silence, but it struck him as a harmless one. “One or two,” he replied somewhat evasively. “Still got some bugs to work out.”

Trailbreaker nodded, but seemed to have exhausted his repertoire of small talk. The two mechs knew each other, or at least knew of each other, and they had some friends in common, but they’d never really socialized one-on-one.

“Did you and Hound have plans for today?” Wheeljack asked, doing his part to keep the flagging conversation alive.

Trailbreaker brightened noticeably at the question. “Yeah, yeah we’re going out for a drive later, gonna check out some of the local Earth fauna. We’ve been doing that a lot lately. There’s some really fascinating specimens out there.”

Wheeljack nodded, “Yeah, I’ve heard Hound say that.”

Wheeljack was pretty sure Hound was with Mirage – talk about your odd couples – or at least he had been last time Wheeljack checked in with the rumor mill. He wondered if some of the Tower mech’s gloss had worn off, leaving Hound in search of a mech who shared more of his interests. Trailbreaker did seem more Hound’s type…

“You could come along, if you wanted,” Trailbreaker offered. “I’m sure Hound wouldn’t mind.“

“Thanks for the offer,” Wheeljack replied. “I may take you up on that sometime. Unfortunately I’ve got some things to do, plus I really need to get some recharge. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I know,” Trailbreaker said. “We’re lucky to get any downtime at all. Those ‘Cons never give us a break; we’ll wear our tires bald, chasin’ after them.”

His chuckle was only partly forced. “They keep us hopping all right,” he agreed. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to work.”

Trailbreaker looked strangely disappointed. “Oh. Okay. See you around.”

“Nice talking with you,” Wheeljack said as he collected his cube. “Say hi to Hound for me.”

“Will do,” Trailbreaker called after him as he left.

**

Feeling in better spirits, Wheeljack made his way back to his lab, energon cube stashed in his subspace compartment for later consumption.

He’d thought about heading for his quarters and giving recharge another try, but ultimately decided against it – as weary as he was, he was in too good a mood. He didn’t want to spoil it so soon, and he was fairly certain a renewed attempt at recharge would darken his outlook very quickly.

He would have liked to try using a processor inhibitor to ensure a recharge cycle free of sensor echoes, but that kind of equipment was restricted, even to a mech of his rank who often assisted in the repair bay. Because they were classified as potentially dangerous devices, only the CMO had access to them.

Wheeljack wasn’t desperate enough yet to try and sneak one out of the repair bay. He didn’t want to ask Ratchet for one, either. Ratchet already knew more about his personal problems than Wheeljack was comfortable with; having to explain why he wanted the inhibitor would only exacerbate the situation.

Especially since Ratchet had begun making cameos in those selfsame sensor echoes.

The only other reliable ways he knew of to induce deep recharge – apart from collapsing due to critical energy depletion – were overcharging on energon, or multiple intense overloads.

Neither of those options appealed to him, for obvious reasons.

Wheeljack cycled his intakes in a sigh, rounding the corner of the corridor that led to his lab. If he couldn’t get his hands on an inhibitor, maybe he could jury-rig a device with similar properties…

Absorbed up in his musings, he happened to glance up as he neared the lab. The sight that met his optics froze both his servos and his CPU, halting him in mid-stride.

Bumblebee was standing outside the door, clearly waiting for him.

Something clicked over in his processor, he was able to function again. “Bumblebee,” he greeted him coolly.

“Hi, Wheeljack,” Bumblebee replied. His tone was friendly, but more subdued than usual.

“Something you needed?”

“Kinda. I wanted to talk to you; you got a klik?”

“No,” Wheeljack replied curtly, shouldering past him to key in the locking code on the door to his lab. When the door hissed open, he entered immediately.

Bumblebee followed him in. “It’ll only take an astrosecond,” he persisted.

Wheeljack gazed up at the ceiling, counting off .498 seconds on his internal chronometer, then said, “Time’s up. Nice talkin’ to ya.”

Bumblebee stood stupidly a few steps in from the door, staring at Wheeljack as he busied himself with some of the spare parts he’d left scattered across one of the tables in the lab. After a few astroseconds, he recovered enough to stammer haltingly, “Um…listen, Wheeljack…”

“Are you still here?” he inquired, not looking up.

“Uh…yes,” Bumblebee said uncomfortably. “Listen, Wheeljack, I know you’re mad at me, and – and you should be, I mean, it’s my fault you got hurt, and I don’t blame you for being mad…”

“I’m not mad,” Wheeljack replied without pausing in his activity. “Seal the door on your way out.”

Silence.

After several kliks had passed with no further efforts to engage him in conversation, Wheeljack risked a glance over his shoulder, wondering if Bumblebee had finally taken the hint and left.

He hadn’t. Bumblebee was still standing there, looking at him with a pathetically plaintive expression on his faceplate.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Bumblebee said in a small voice.

Wheeljack turned back to his work without a word, ignoring him.

“I’m really sorry,” Bumblebee repeated quietly. “They…they really hurt you, didn’t they?”

“No, they didn’t, actually,” he replied, not turning around.

“I…I know they did something to your sp– ”

“No, you don’t know,” Wheeljack interrupted him, vocalizer cold and hard. “And no, they didn’t.”

“Wheeljack, I saw –” Bumblebee began. He cut himself off abruptly when the engineer stiffened, the tools in his hands dropping to the table with a loud clank.

Wheeljack turned slowly, stalking over to the minibot, closing in on him until they were scant inches apart, practically scraping armor. Standing this close, he positively loomed over the smaller mech.

He glared down at Bumblebee through optics narrowed to mere slits. “I’m only going to say this once,” he hissed, low and dangerous, his vocal indicators barely flickering. “You don’t know anything. They didn’t do anything.”

Bumblebee stared up at him, frozen, his optics wide and alarmed.

“If I find out you’ve been saying otherwise to anyone, I’ll be very…unhappy,” Wheeljack continued in the same soft, menacing tone. “And if I get unhappy, I guarantee you’ll be unhappy, too. Is that understood?”

“Y-yeah, s-sure,” Bumblebee stammered.

“I think now would be a good time for you to leave,” he advised.

Bumblebee backed away quickly, stumbling several times in his haste before finally turning and scrambling out of the lab and back into the corridor.

Wheeljack stared at the door for a long time after it slid shut, his spark lurching in its chamber. When he finally moved again, he was surprised to discover his hands were clenched into fists.

**

He onlined with a jerk, sitting bolt upright in his seat. For a bad moment he wasn’t sure where he was, but once his processor finished booting up and he’d refreshed his optics a few times, his previously-unrecognizable surroundings resolved themselves into the familiar features of his lab.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. He’d been working on his latest project – a set of detection panels designed to supplement the Ark’s security system – when he’d finally reached his limit. His overtaxed systems had initiated a forced recharge cycle in order to avoid critical depletion, and he’d keeled over right then and there.

At least there’d been no sensor ghosts. Forced recharge was deep, and difficult to override unless you were a medic. And he’d definitely needed it – he felt clearer now, more alert.

He checked his internal chronometer. It was late afternoon, which meant he’d only been offline a handful of joors. He wasn’t assigned to duty until the following morning. He looked over the array of circuit panels and tools he’d left scattered across the table in front of him, but the thought of returning to work was unappealing. The lab suddenly seemed too quiet, too cramped and confining.

After a moment’s deliberation, he heaved himself to his feet.

Occasional bouts of restlessness were nothing new to Wheeljack. Usually he dealt with them by taking an energon break or paying a visit to the repair bay to chat with Ratchet for a breem or two. Either option had proven effective at dispelling such feelings in the past.

His fuel levels were currently within acceptable parameters, and he still had half a cube in his subspace compartment, so rather than heading for the common room, he addressed his steps toward the repair bay.

Halfway there he stopped, wavering indecisively. A part of him desperately longed to talk to Ratchet, to exchange their usual jibes and banter, to enjoy the easy camaraderie and comfortable familiarity established over millennia of close association, but another part of him knew better.

Those days of were over.

His spark sank at the realization. If he visited Ratchet now, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t ever be the same. Because now when Ratchet looked at him, he wouldn’t see the mech who’d volunteered to raid a Decepticon storage facility for energy conductors to bolster their diminishing reserves, or the one who’d assisted him in saving the sparks of countless mechs – no, he’d see the mech who’d broken down in his lab as he confessed to what Starscream had done to him, the one who’d struggled to hold himself together as he lay on a berth in repair bay while Ratchet diligently scanned his CPU.

And then he’d ask how Wheeljack was doing, in that gentle, careful tone that was so different from the one he normally used.

A sudden, overwhelming sense of loss consumed him. He fought the urge to keen like a sparkling, to give voice to his abject misery.

It was as if Ratchet had died.

Depression enveloping him like a black cloud, he turned and headed in the opposite direction.

**

He found himself standing at the entrance to the Ark, staring bleakly out into the desert.

“Wheeljack?”

Turning toward the voice, he found Trailbreaker standing there, regarding him with an expression of mild surprise.

“Hey, Trailbreaker,” he greeted him. “Going on another outing with Hound?”

“No, actually,” Trailbreaker responded listlessly. “We were going to, but…he couldn’t make it. Something came up.”

“Decepticons..?” Wheeljack inquired, feeling torn. Having to fight the ‘Cons wasn’t something he was all that eager to do, but it would serve as a distraction from his present mood…

“Mirage,” Trailbreaker replied bitterly.

“Oh,” he said with sudden understanding. “Sorry to hear that.”

Trailbreaker shrugged, “It’s okay. I’m kinda used to it.”

“Why don’t you just go without him?” he suggested. “It’s a nice day, seems a shame to waste it.”

“I could do that, I suppose,” Trailbreaker mused. “Hey…why don’t you come with me?”

Wheeljack looked at him in surprise. “Me?”

“Un-unless you’re busy,” Trailbreaker stammered.

He considered the offer. Hound’s nature drives weren’t really his thing; he found life on Earth interesting, but tended to be more intrigued by the humans and their technology – primitive as it was – than by the simple organic life forms Hound found so fascinating. But it would be something to do, something to keep his processor off….other things.

“Sure, why not?” he agreed. “I’m not on duty until morning, and I could use a break.”

He was surprised by how pleased Trailbreaker looked at his acceptance of the invitation. Poor mech, he thought. He must be almost as depressed as I am.

**

He’d forgotten how good it felt just to get out and move.

They’d started out slowly, Trailbreaker taking the lead and choosing their direction, but gradually, without really realizing it, Wheeljack began to accelerate. Within a few kliks he’d passed the other ‘Bot, blazing a trail of his own up the winding mountain road they’d chosen.

The sensation of the smooth paved road unrolling beneath his tires and the wind gusting along his chassis felt wonderful. It felt like freedom. For a moment he felt as if it really were possible to outrun your troubles and leave them behind you.

Then his comm pinged. *Um…Wheeljack..?*

He recalled with a jolt that Trailbreaker was with him, that he’d been the one to invite Wheeljack along on this drive – and that he was presently traveling well beyond that mech’s top speed. Trailbreaker was in fact now quite a ways behind him.

He braked suddenly, so hard that he did a complete one-eighty before finally skidding to a halt. He could make out the dark, blocky shape of the other ‘Bot in the distance, determinedly chugging along in an effort to catch up with him.

*Sorry,* he apologized over the link. *Guess I had a mild case of cabin fever. Got a bit carried away there.*

*That’s okay,* Trailbreaker replied. *I don’t blame you. If I could move like that, I’d do the same.*

His tone was an odd blend of wistfulness and bitter resignation. Wheeljack cursed himself for his carelessness – how could he have been so rude?

*Speed isn’t everything,* he said, keeping his tone light and casual. *You’d beat me in the long haul.*

*I guess,* Trailbreaker replied moodily.

He pulled back around and resumed the road when the defense strategist pulled even with him again. *So where are we headed? I forgot to ask.*

*There’s this scenic overlook further up the mountain,* Trailbreaker explained. *I happened across it while I was out on patrol the other day. I pulled off to scan for Decepticon energy readings, and there it was. The view is really spectacular. I was going to show it to Hound–* he broke off abruptly, the link going quiet.

*Sounds interesting. I’d love to see it,* he replied. *Lead the way.*

Trailbreaker pulled ahead, and Wheeljack fell in behind him.

He was careful to remain in that position for the rest of the drive.

**

The view really was spectacular.

It went on for miles, jagged peaks stretching out endlessly in either direction, the steep drop falling sharply away until it reached the timber line, where it was overtaken by a cavalcade of majestic snow-covered pines. Still further out, looking almost misty in the distance, was a broad patchwork blanket of fields and pastures spreading out toward the horizon. Here and there you could see the silvery glint of a river peeking through, glittering in the late afternoon sunshine.

For a long time they didn’t speak at all, simply gazing out in awe at the panoply.

“Hound would have loved to see this,” Wheeljack said at last.

“Yeah,” Trailbreaker agreed gloomily. “Sorry for dragging you along; I know you’re not really interested in this sort of thing. Thanks for coming anyway.”

“Thanks for asking,” he replied sincerely. “I’m glad I got a chance to see this. It really is amazing.”

“You mean it?” Trailbreaker sounded genuinely surprised – but also pleased.

“Yeah. I really mean it,” he said.

He really did.

Whether it was due to the peaceful, untroubled vista or Trailbreaker’s calm, undemanding presence, Wheeljack wasn’t sure, but for the first time in days, he felt truly relaxed. He could feel the tension easing from his servos, leaving behind a sense of simple contentment.

“Seems almost a shame to leave,” he said quietly.

“We don’t have to take off just yet,” Trailbreaker replied. “The sun will be setting soon; if we wait a little while, I bet we’ll really get a show.”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed.

**

The sunset had proven well worth the wait.

“Hound’s going to be really sorry he missed this,” Wheeljack commented.

“I doubt it,” Trailbreaker scoffed. “I’m sure Mirage is keeping him entertained.”

“It won’t last,” he said encouragingly. “Sure, Mirage is exotic, and attractive, but what do they have in common? Sooner or later he’ll get tired of slumming, and then Hound will be out on his aft. Or maybe Hound will get bored with him, once the novelty wears off. And then he’ll come looking for you.”

“Fat chance,” Trailbreaker replied dejectedly. “It’s like you said: Mirage is attractive and exotic. Worse than that, he’s useful, what with that cloaking device of his. I can’t compete with that. I’m slow and clunky, nothing but a big energy sink. I’m worse than useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, startled by the sheer self-loathing in Trailbreaker’s tone. “Your force field is a very impressive piece of technology.”

“Yeah, one that uses even more energy,” Trailbreaker retorted. “What good is a tool you can’t afford to use?”

Wheeljack started to reply, but Trailbreaker wasn’t finished.

“I don’t expect you to understand; you’re actually useful,” he continued. “You’re fast, and smart, you come up with all these amazing inventions–”

“At least half of which end up blowing up in my faceplate, and don’t work besides,” Wheeljack interrupted him, his tone light and teasing. “You may be slow, but at least no one thinks you’re crazy.”

Trailbreaker looked at him in surprise. “Other ‘Bots think you’re crazy?”

“What would you call a mech who constantly blows himself up?” Wheeljack asked, amused. “Doesn’t bother me. Pit, they’re probably right. To come up with the really innovative ideas, you almost have to be a little crazy.”

He shrugged, adding, “You have to go with your strengths, make strengths out of your weaknesses, if you can. Doesn’t do you any good to dwell on them.”

“You’re right, I guess,” Trailbreaker acceded. “I just wish I didn’t feel like such a burden all the time. If I wasn’t such a drain on our resources, I wouldn’t feel so bad about the rest of it.”

“Maybe I could come up with something,” he offered. “I can’t turn you into Bumblebee, but I bet I could work out a way to increase your efficiency a little. There’s got to be a way to reduce your drag coefficient from air friction, or lower your engine-speed to wheel-speed ratio. Or maybe we could make you lighter – I could probably work out a way to transfer some of your non-vital components into subspace when you transform–”

He trailed off when he noticed the way the other mech was staring at him.

“What?” he asked. “I won’t blow you up, I promise.”

“You…you’d do that for me?”

“Sure,” he said. “You said it’d make you feel better, and, well…I kind of feel like I owe you one. I was feeling pretty down before, but this,” he gestured to the darkening vista, “was really nice. I feel a lot better now, and I have you to thank for it.”

It was true. He hadn’t realized it until the moment the words left his vocalizer, but he truly was grateful to the other ‘Bot. In the past few joors, he hadn’t spent so much as an astrosecond thinking about…that. His somber mood had lifted, and he’d actually begun to relax, allowing his old confidence to re-emerge.

And he had Trailbreaker to thank for it.

It wasn’t just that Trailbreaker was a friendly, easygoing sort of mech, either. Even his problems – his concerns about his energy demands, his feelings of inadequacy in regards to Hound – even they helped to lift Wheeljack’s spirits and lighten his spark. He’d been designed and programmed to solve problems, after all. It felt good to be presented with one he could actually fix.

Trailbreaker was still staring at him, his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief.

And gratitude.

“Thank you,” Trailbreaker said softly. “Really. I’m – I just…really. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied, vocal indicators flashing brightly. “And thank you”

**

Upon returning to the Ark, he’d bid farewell to Trailbreaker and gone back to his lab to resume his work on the detection panels. The much-needed break had granted him a fresh perspective, and he’d made several improvements on the design.

By morning, they were ready.

He’d commed Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Red Alert at the start of his shift to inform them, and within a breem or two, virtually every ‘Bot on duty was busy installing them throughout the base.

He was giving Prime a demonstration, proudly explaining how the panels functioned, when Cliffjumper interrupted them to announce that a call had just come in on Teletraan-1.

He couldn’t help sneering a little when Dr. Fujiama boasted about his new invention. He didn’t like the gloating human’s condescending manner, or the way Fujiama had stolen away his spotlight. Especially considering the detection panels were the first thing he’d invented since –

He was just plain rude, is all. Wheeljack didn’t like him.

It wasn’t as if the scientist’s robot would be anything special. Wheeljack had seen some of the so-called “robots” the humans used, and they were exceedingly simple things, well below the level of even the most rudimentary Cybertronian drone. Most were only capable of performing a single function – an incredibly basic function, at that – over and over again. They couldn’t perform complex or multiple tasks, and they certainly weren’t sentient, let alone sapient.

So Dr. Fujiama’s claim that his invention was “the greatest robot ever created by man” was about as impressive, in human terms, as saying “the greatest block tower ever built by a toddler.” And he wanted the Autobots to guard it? That would be like using tanks to guard a toaster!

Wheeljack wasn’t sure if Optimus was genuinely curious about Dr. Fujiama’s robot or just trying to be polite, but either way the result was the same: Prime accepted the doctor’s request, and they’d all been ordered to abandon installing the remainder of his detection panels in favor of piling on board Skyfire to fly out to Japan.

To guard a primitive Earth robot. So the Decepticons wouldn’t steal it.

Why would they even want it?

He said as much to Ratchet when he found himself standing next to the medic while the other ‘Bots positioned themselves about the (thankfully high-ceilinged) auditorium, taking up guard posts at each of the doors.

“It does seem like a pretty silly assignment,” Ratchet agreed. “But I guess we’ll see what all the fuss is about soon enough. Dr. Fujiama’s doohickey is under that drape.”

Wheeljack glanced toward the stage in the direction Ratchet had indicated. “If it walks, it probably needs a long extension cord,” he sneered.

Ratchet chuckled, “I wonder if batteries are included.”

He snickered. “When they turn it on, it'll probably blow the lights,” he predicted.

Unfortunately Optimus Prime chose that moment to walk by and overheard him. “We're here to guard the robot, not make jokes at its expense,” he said reprovingly.

Wheeljack suppressed a sigh. Maybe the humor had been a little mean-spirited, but it had felt good to swap jokes with Ratchet again like everything was normal. For a moment, it had been just like old times.

Now the moment was over.

The two mechs fell into a chagrined silence, refraining from making any additional comments as Dr. Fujiama appeared onstage and unveiled the new robot.

Wheejack had to admit, it did look better than he’d expected it to. Sparkplug’s attempt with “Autobot X” hadn’t been nearly so…aesthetic. He suspected that a lot of the impressed reactions from the other ‘Bots were due to the fact that Fujiama’s robot was a femme, and bore a striking resemblance to a pleasure-drone, besides. He highly doubted it was because she was such a technological marvel.

He was kind of tempted to tell the good doctor that; see how boastful he was after he learned his creation looked like the Cybertronian equivalent of a human sex toy.

Beside him, he heard Ratchet suppressing a snicker. It was obvious Ratchet was thinking the same thing. They exchanged an amused look before returning their attention to the stage, where Dr. Fujiama was attempting to explain how his robot ninja would benefit mankind when ninjas had historically served primarily as assassins.

That was when the Decepticons attacked.

They blasted through the door that Trailbreaker was guarding, taking him in the back before he could erect his force field. Rumble and Frenzy had charged in, immediately putting their pile-drivers to work to weaken the structure of the building. Laserbeak soon joined them, and their combined efforts triggered a panicked stampede of fleeing humans.

Megatron had shown up next, followed by Soundwave. The ensuing battle was fast and brutal, and by the time it was over, the ninjabot had been stolen and several of the Autobots had been damaged. Prime had been shot by Megatron, as had Bluestreak, taking a shot meant for Optimus. Prowl had taken a hit from Laserbeak, Soundwave had shot Brawn, and Ironhide had been half-crushed by falling support beams when the roof collapsed.

Surveying the damage as Optimus Prime apologized to Dr. Fujiama, Wheeljack exchanged another look with Ratchet. This time it wasn’t amused.

They had their work cut out for them.


*Part 6 is here*

Comments

[quidamling.livejournal.com]

I like this, the story arc is getting interesting. Good job with writing Wheeljack's kind of internal debates. And Trailbreaker doesn't usually get enough attention. (Poor guy >: getting party-fouled)

Thanks for sharing! I want to see where this goes. :3

[library-drone01.livejournal.com]

Yay for awesome story!

[prowls-angel.livejournal.com]

I love how you link up the episodes! I can't wait for the next chapter to this story. Loving it!

[okami-myrrhibis.livejournal.com]

Hmm - TB & Jack? Not a pairing I'd have guessed, but they way you're writing them, makes a certain amount of sense - if that's the direction you're going in (though I'm a RatchetJack shipper myself).

And the comments about Nightbird... his creation looked like the Cybertronian equivalent of a human sex toy HEHEHEHEHE

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

I wouldn't count Ratchet out just yet. I think you'll probably enjoy part 6, in fact...

[dvana.livejournal.com]

Nice! It was good to see Wheeljack and Ratchet exchanging comments, and I like the way you write their interaction. Also, Trailbreaker needs a hug, lol. Wonderful to see this continued.

[koilungfish.livejournal.com]

Quick point; an orn is a lunar day, which in the case of Earth's moon is 28 days, so you might want to find another time unit to cover spans of hours.

Otherwise reading along with interest and curious to see where you take this.

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

Aw, damn, you're right. Fixed now. I'm about halfway through writing part 6, so stick around! And thanks for reading!

[tiamat1972.livejournal.com]

I'm really enjoying this. You have Wheeljack acting very realisticly and I really like how you tie the series into it.

Looking forward to the next part.

[pl2363.livejournal.com]

well, i like it very much! looking forward to the next part. ^^

[naboru-narluin.livejournal.com]

I feel sorry for Bumblebee, and for Wheeljack, his thoughts about losing Ratchet and all, but… AH! Trailbreaker! *_* I like him and I’m always kinda disappointed that there are just a few fics with him. ^^ Thank you for giving him some “screen time”.

Awww their conversation on the mountain about being useful and others think Wheeljack might be crazy. And the best part ever was when Wheeljack made his proposal making Trailbreaker more efficient and his:
“What?” he asked. “I won’t blow you up, I promise.”
I laughed so hard. *lol*

So~ what else…
Ah.
Enter the Nightbird, one of my favourite episodes. *g* I loved how Wheeljack and Ratchet make fun of the Ninja-Robot. Thank you for using this scene. *.* Their thoughts about the robot looking like a Cybertronian pleasure-drone are also hilarious!

That would be like using tanks to guard a toaster!
*g* That’s what I thought while watching the episode. Gosh I grin so broad it hurts. ^^°

Sorry for writing so much and mention all these things but I… don’t know. I feel like I have to mention the thinks I liked in a story. I hope it doesn’t annoy you. ._.

Though, as much as I want to read more, my eyes are burning, guess I have to give in.

Anyway, thanks a lot for writing and sharing this fic. I hardly can stop reading and I’m looking forward to the moment my eyes are able to look on an computer screen again. *lol*

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

I don't find it annoying that you choose to comment on the things you liked in each chapter - in fact I love that. It's nice to hear someone say they liked something you wrote, but it's even more gratifying to hear specifically what and why.

I'm touched that you stuck it out this long, but also glad that you opted to stop and get some much-needed sleep rather than continuing - you'd have been up all night! I hope you'll come back when you're better rested to read the rest!

[naboru-narluin.livejournal.com]

Okay. Glad to hear I’m not bothersome. ^^
I always try to give the kind of review I’d like to get, though I can not not comment in this way if I’m really excited about something. ^^

Your story is really catchy and I liked (and like) reading it.
No worries about that. Probably, I would have been up all night anyway. ^^ so, better reading something good than lying sleepless in bed. @@

Uhm… and thank you for answering every comment of mine. You really don’t have to. ._.