Chapter Text
“Your name’s not Zippy,” was the last thing Blurr heard before the siren sounded and the race was on.
After that, he didn’t think about anything but the track and the finish line ahead of him. He blocked out the crowds, the lights, the other racers, and focused only on sensation.
Primus but he missed his. Cutting through the air like a missile. The track shuddering from so many powerful engines. The smell of hot tar and blazing metal and spent coolant.
This was the only race for him where winning didn’t matter. Where he ran for the sake of it, competed because he could, but didn’t care when he crossed the finish line. Right now, he was Zippy, racing was a past-time, and the goal was to finish.
He skidded across the yellow-painted line in second place, vents heaving, plating slick with condensation. The crowd roared, not for him, but for the racers themselves. Here, the viewers cared not for those who raced, but watched for the joy of the game.
“You won!”
Blurr stared as a red frame came pelting out of the nearby stand and all but tackled the gold racer who had spoken to Blurr earlier. The red mech wrapped arms and legs around the gold one and planted a series of messy, wet kisses all over his face.
“Sideswipe, get off!” the gold mech growled, but one hand lifted to support the red one’s weight anyway, the other hand trying to shove away the red mech’s face. “And watch the paint, moron!”
The red mech – Sideswipe – rolled his optics and his hips, metal scraping against metal. “Shut the frag up, you’re gorgeous,” he said, before kissing the gold mech again.
Blurr stared. He couldn’t help himself. Both mechs were appealing to the optics, and if they were going to put on such a display in public, they deserved to be watched. Besides, who the frag did that?
More mechs and a few femmes poured onto the tracks, shifting from a race to a party, as Blurr knew it would. This was his second favorite part of the competition. When music and dancing and barely refined high grade followed and the winners were treated to acclaim, but no more special than anyone else.
Blurr never went home without a berth partner. He suspected this time wouldn’t be any different.
“Hey, who’s the rookie?”
Blurr’s attention returned to Sideswipe and his gold partner as both of them were now giving him scrutinizing looks. At least Sideswipe was standing on his own two pedes now. Sideswipe’s helm tilted with interest while the gold mech’s optics narrowed with suspicion.
He stomped closer, frown etched into otherwise attractive features. “Not Zippy, that’s for fragging sure.”
Blurr planted his hands on his hips. “What’s it to you?” he demanded. “No one said I had to use my real name.”
The gold mech looked him up and down. “What’s the matter? Get bored of the limelight and have to come slumming it down here?”
“Uh, Sunny? Any reason why you suddenly want to pound old Zippy here into scrap?” Sideswipe asked, stepping up to the gold mech’s side.
“Don’t call me that,” he growled, an aside, before directing his attention back to Blurr. “And you need to pay more attention to what’s going on out there. That’s fragging Blurr!”
Oh, well, apparently his disguise hadn’t been as good as he thought it was. A change of a paint and a swap of some kibble should have worked.
Sideswipe’s optics cycled wide. “Whoa. Really?”
Blurr folded his arms and vented a blast of heat. “I fail to see where any of that’s your business.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” ‘Sunny’ half-turned away from him, an act of dismissal. “After all, why should I care that you’re only second best?” He flicked a hand at Blurr, only to growl as Sideswipe nudged him with an elbow.
“Oh, come on, Sunny,” Sideswipe said with a winked optic back at Blurr. “He looks like he could be up for a good time.”
“I don’t waste my time with mechs like him. Second place is the first loser.” Sunny’s haughty tone carried easily to Blurr’s audials.
His optics narrowed. His engine revved with outrage. But any retort died on his glossa as Sunny and Sideswipe vanished into the crowd of happily chattering mechs and their overflowing cubes of high grade. Someone had brought in a sound system, or altmoded into one, and the heavy beat filled the air and throbbed through the track.
Next time, Blurr vowed. Next time he would see that gold mech ground into dust.