When the parents are away, the kids will play

by ArcticFics

Summary:

alternate title is Beyond Our Badges 1 1/2

Basically it's what Bumblebee's Team and Steeljaw's Pack are doing for the 3 months their leaders aka the only bots willing to deal with them on a daily basis are gone.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the joys of parenthood again, Strongarm

Notes:

or ~ everybody's favorite cadet experiences leadership PTSD for the umpteenth time ~

The groups & members we'll be following:
Bumblebee’s team
- Strongarm
- Sideswipe
- Grimlock
- Fixit
- Drift, Jetstorm and Slipstream
Steeljaw’s pack
- Thunderhoof
- Underbite
- Clampdown
- Quillfire
- Fracture, Airazor and Divebomb
Humans
- Denny Clay
- Russel Clay

Enjoy!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT DID YOU DO?”

 

The high-pitched panicked screech from Fixit as he hurriedly rolls into the clearing has every bot and con freezing in their tracks. The ground-bridge controls are nothing more than a sparking, crumpled block of metal and wires. Where there should have been two mechs, the respective leaders of each group, is Sideswipe, lying splayed out on a patch of dirt.

 

“Nonononononononononononono… This is bad. This is really really really really really…”

 

Thunk

 

“Bad!”

 

“No worries, Fixit, it isn’t like we haven’t dealt with this before,” Sideswipe attempts to reassure the hysterical minicon, getting to his pedes and brushing dirt off his frame. “Besides, it’s not like that time Underbite ate part of the ground-bridge.”

 

“I ain’t ever doing that again,” Underbite pipes up from his doggy pile with Grimlock, shuddering at the unpleasant memory.

 

“You ate a ground-bridge?” Fracture asks, looking over from where he and Drift are somewhat locked together by their weapons.

 

“It was the closest thing I could reach at the time that was made of metal!”

 

The Compazoid’s engine rumbles in disdain.

 

“I wouldn’t have done it if I knew what was gonna happen. I did not like all that poppin’ around.”

 

“Neither did we,” Strongarm grumbles as she makes her way over to Fixit and the broken control panel. “How long do you think it will take to repair this and bridge to the Lieutenant?”

 

“And Steeljaw,” Drift adds.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Scrap,” Strongarm curses, the realization that her leader is most likely dealing with the enemy leader alone taking its sweet time to cement itself in her processor. “Fixit, estimate?”

 

“I’m almost done calculating…” Fixit bends over and takes a closer look at some wires. “I’ll have to run a few tests as well, but I should be able to fix it within the flour… sour… hour!”

 

Strongarm beams.

 

“Really? Only an hour?”

 

That was better than she expected. Way better.

 

Then Fixit touches one wire end to the other, they spark, there’s a tiny explosion, and the wires are promptly dropped, ends blackened and smoking.

 

“Heh. Make that two hours, possibly more.”

 

Strongarm groans, hanging her helm and placing her servos on her hips.

 

This is just great.

 

What are they supposed to do now?

 

They can’t focus on repairing the ground-bridge controls and trying to take down Steeljaw’s pack at the same time. Without Steeljaw around to keep them in line, the remaining Decepticons can and will tear each other apart. While some of her team-mates, and Strongarm herself on occasion, wouldn’t mind that too terribly much, the fact is that it’d do more harm than good leaving the cons to themselves.

 

Someone needs to step in and take responsibility.

 

“Alright, cons, listen up!” Strongarm addresses, raising her voice to be heard. “We’re putting a temporary halt to this latest skirmish of ours until we get both Steeljaw and the Lieutenant back. You won’t be going anywhere, we won’t let you, so you can either sit and be patient and not cause any trouble for once in your lives, or you’ll find yourselves promptly shoved into stasis pods.”

 

Strongarm’s declaration is received by silence, stunned, incredulous red and blue optics locked on her.

 

All, except for one.

 

“Thunderhoof, did you hear what I said?” Strongarm demands, walking over to the former crime boss, who hasn’t budged from where he stands off to the side, facing the ground-bridge.

 

Once she is closer, Strongarm notices that Thunderhoof is staring at the spot where Bumblebee and Steeljaw were last seen. She couldn’t begin to guess what’s going on inside his head. He appears tense, shoulders hunched and posture stiff, fists held at his sides, but his EM field is closed off good and tight. Strongarm can’t get a read on him.

 

“Thunderhoof?” Strongarm asks again, more calm, yet more suspicious.

 

Why isn’t he answering her?

 

“Is he glitched or..?” Sideswipe approaches and raps his knuckles against Thunderhoof’s temple. He is immediately knocked on his aft when Thunderhoof suddenly turns around.

 

“I ain’t glitched, ya little punk!” Thunderhoof snaps, glaring down at Sideswipe. “And don’t touch me again if ya wanna keep yer cranium on!”

 

Strongarm kneels beside her team-mate and helps him to his pedes.

 

“Sideswipe, are you alright?” She asks.

 

“Oh, you know, could be better,” Sideswipe snarks, rubbing his scraped faceplate. He rips his arm out of Strongarm’s hold and backs away.

 

Strongarm sighs. She’ll deal with Sideswipe later. In fact, she’d rather put up with literally anything else.

 

“Okay, Thunderhoof, I’ll ask again. Did you listen to what I said?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” Thunderhoof snorts and rolls his optics, not entirely facing Strongarm as he answers her.

 

“Then why didn’t you answer me the first time?”

 

“I was…” Thunderhoof stops himself from saying more. Optics narrowed, he completely looks away from Strongarm.

 

The cadet raises an optical ridge. Thunderhoof is acting weird, and Strongarm feels like she shouldn’t question him. Something about his behavior is telling her that it’s best to leave him alone.

 

“You were what?” Sideswipe continues to pester.

 

“Sideswipe,” Strongarm warns.

 

“It’s probably because…” Quillfire starts to answer; somehow he managed to keep quiet up till now.

 

“Quillfire, ya better shut yer trap before I shut it for ya!” Thunderhoof interrupts with a threat, rounding on the porcupine-like Decepticon.

 

Quillfire acquiesces, though not without a glare thrown Thunderhoof’s way.

 

The display surprises Strongarm a bit. She’s known the anarchist to be aggressive with Autobots, but when it comes to other Decepticons, he ranges from cowardly to cordial, sometimes comical. Content to be among his similarly oppressed brethren. Never once has Strongarm witnessed Quillfire stare at his own comrades with such frustration and displeasure.

 

That’s typically, well, every other Decepticon’s thing, not Quillfire’s.

 

Strongarm notes the behavior for future reference before filing it away and refocusing on more pressing concerns.

 

“Is the fighting over?”

 

When Strongarm thought of more pressing concerns , the humans coming out was not on her bingo card. Suppressing her irritation, she turns on a heel to see Denny and Russel standing nearby, both clad in pajamas, each holding a flashlight.

 

“What are you two doing up?” She asks.

 

“It’s kind of hard to sleep when you have giant robots fighting in your front yard,” Russel quips.

 

“Sorry, it couldn’t be helped.”

 

“No worries. Just comes with the territory. We’re used to it by now,” Denny waves off the apology, acting like it isn’t a big deal. He points his flashlight at Fixit, effectively illuminating all the damage done to the ground-bridge controls. “Yikes, that looks bad.”

 

“I know!” Fixit laments, scavenging debris left and right.

 

“Denny, Russel, I hate to ask, but since you’re awake, do you mind helping Fixit?” Strongarm asks.

 

“Sure!” Denny responds happily.

 

“I don’t think I can fall back asleep anyway,” Russel says, following his dad over to Fixit and the mess that they are going to help fix. He looks around, and a frown soon forms. “Hey, where’s Bee?”

 

“Bumblebee got sent flying through a ground-bridge after someone lobbed me out of his way,” Sideswipe replies, arms crossed, pointedly glaring at Thunderhoof.

 

“The Lieutenant was next to Steeljaw, so he went through the portal as well,” Strongarm adds.

 

“Bumblebee is trapped who knows where with Steeljaw ?!” Denny exclaims, briefly looking up from the repairs at Strongarm, who gives a brisk nod.

 

“But why was the ground-bridge open in the first place?” Russel asks.

 

Everyone turns to look at the culprit.

 

“Hey, I was just trying to get away, alright? Didn’t fancy being cracked open by Thunderhoof and all that,” Clampdown defends.

 

To be fair, Strongarm doesn’t blame the crab-like Decepticon for wanting to escape the clutches of someone who is hellbent on killing him, and with Steeljaw currently elsewhere, there isn’t anyone around to stop Thunderhoof. Well, except for Strongarm herself, but she really hopes things don’t come down to that. She’s nervous enough as is with Bumblebee missing.

 

“Has anyone called to see if they’re okay or find out where they are?”

 

Denny’s question completely knocks the mecha for a loop.

 

“By the Primes,” Strongarm gasps, internally kicking herself. “How did I not think about that earlier?”

 

“I’m a little surprised that’s not the first thing you did,” Sideswipe comments.

 

“Oh, like you’ve done any better.”

 

“I would have! Eventually.”

 

Strongarm just rolls her optics. She doesn’t have time to waste on Sideswipe. She reaches for her audial and activates her comm link.

 

“Liuentenant, this is Strongarm. Please report in.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Lieutenant?”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The lasting silence is doing nothing to soothe her nerves. Strongarm paces, avoiding looking at the eyes and optics on her.

 

“Strongarm here. Lieutenant, please respond! Where are you? What’s your status? Are you injured? Is Steeljaw with you? What’s his status? Should we be worried? Are you in immediate danger, or any danger at all?”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Strongarm has a bad feeling. A very, very bad feeling. Slowly, she drops her servo.

 

“Bumblebee isn’t answering.”

 

She doesn’t have to look to sense the alarmed fields of her team-mates.

 

“He probably just got teleported somewhere with no reception,” Sideswipe says, attempting to play it cool despite his rising anxiety.

 

Strongarm wishes she could believe him. In an act of desperation, clinging to a microfiber of hope, she turns to the Decepticons.

 

“Will one of you try to get in contact with Steeljaw?”

 

The cons, merely observing in curiosity, light up from the surprise request.

 

“Even if we felt like it, and assuming he’s with your Lieutenant, why would we do anything you say?” Fracture questions.

 

The bounty hunter has a point, but Strongarm isn’t going to give in so easily. She musters up some semblance of control and speaks.

 

“You mean aside from what I said earlier? Because we don’t know what’s going on, and if there’s even a small chance that Steeljaw, as untrustworthy as he is, is reachable and still with the Lieutenant, then I’m willing to take it.”

 

The Decepticons don’t seem convinced. However, just as Strongarm is about to speak, add more threats to the list and all, perhaps read them their rights for refusing to cooperate, she sees Quillfire press a claw to his comm link.

 

“Eh, Steeljaw, this is Quillfire speaking. Are you, by chance, alive wherever you are? It’d be nice to know for future developments.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Same as with Strongarm, Steeljaw doesn’t answer.

 

“I’m not getting anything,” Quillfire says.

 

Strongarm sighs. Her spark is pounding. She must ignore the horrible feelings crawling along her spinal strut.

 

“Thanks for trying. Fixit…”

 

“ Oh dear. ”

 

That is not a welcome response.

 

Strongarm looks at where she thinks Fixit is, but the minicon is not at the ground-bridge controls. Denny and Russel point to the Alchemore’s command console, where the minicon has relocated himself. He brought up a map and was already in the process of tracking the missing mechs.

 

“Fixit, what is it?” Strongarm asks, hoping beyond hope that his reaction doesn’t mean what she thinks it entails.

 

“I scanned for Bumblebee’s signature, but I can’t find him.”

 

“Again, he’s probably somewhere with no reception,” Sideswipe repeats himself.

 

Unfortunately, Strongarm doesn’t buy it. She turns to the one mech who can confirm her suspicions.

 

“Clampdown, where were you planning on bridging to?”

 

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to get out of here!” Clampdown stutters, shifting from leg to leg.

 

“Do you at least remember the coordinates you typed in?”

 

At first, Clampdown doesn’t look too keen on sharing, but one look at the other Decepticons, specifically Thunderhoof, has him spilling his guts. It’s a good thing he has an excellent memory, or they’d all have to wait for the console connected to the ground-bridge to be fixed. Once the coordinates are input into the system, their location is revealed.

 

“The coordinates lead us to the middle of the desert. I see nowhere for their signals to be scrambled or have lost connection,” Fixit informs the crowd.

 

“A reminder, we cannot track Steeljaw’s pack through their chips, so we would have no way of knowing if Steeljaw is there or not,” Drift says.

 

That’s true. Strongarm forgot about that little detail.

 

“So what do we do?” Grimlock asks.

 

“Oh, that’s simple!” Fixit chirps. “I just need to examine one of the Decepticon’s chips, and then I should be able to calibrate our tracking system to locate similar signals! Emphasis on should .”

 

“And give up the biggest advantage we have over yous? I don’t think so!” Thunderhoof snaps, already to continue the fight. The other Decepticons share Thunderhoof’s sentiment, each congregating on the antlered mech, wariness clear, and prepared to move at a moment’s notice.

 

For once, Strongarm wants to avoid fighting. She is well aware that it will not bring either leader back, but she isn’t so naive as to believe that the Decepticons, or even her own team-mates, will just roll over and agree to a ceasefire.

 

Then again, the Decepticons haven’t tried anything since Fixit’s intervention.

 

Thunderhoof accidentally hitting Sideswipe doesn’t count.

 

“Look, I know you don’t like it, but if you don’t help us willingly, we will use force,” Strongarm informs the cons.

 

Again, the Decepticons aren’t convinced to do anything, leading to a tense silence, which ultimately results in one con becoming tired of everyone else’s bull.

 

“Ugh! Fine!” Quillfire drags his pedes as he walks. “Let’s just get this over with. I don’t want to be here anymore than I have to. I’d much rather be in the middle of a good, long defrag cycle.”

 

The anarchist’s decision results in an uproar from his fellow cons, one in particular more vocal than the others.

 

“EYO! YOU AIN’T DOIN’ SCRAP! GET BACK OVER HERE!”

 

“ Make me ,” Quillfire growls through his chittering.

 

“What was that?” Thunderhoof demands.

 

“I said I’ll do it since apparently you’re too much of a coward…”

 

The thunderous stomp shakes the earth underfoot. Strongarm reaches for her holstered weapon, but she doesn’t draw it, not yet. Her curiosity is driving her to wait and see what happens next.

 

“While Steeljaw ain’t around, I’m in charge, and I’ll ignore what ya said if ya get back over here right now,” Thunderhoof says.

 

“Then if you are, indeed, a courageous, albeit temporary leader, shouldn’t you be the one to bear this responsibility instead?” Quillfire questions.

 

Some Decepticons are known for deception. Quillfire is not one of those Decepticons. He isn’t underhanded, he is direct. His current behavior reminds Strongarm of a certain missing Decepticon leader, and that is something she simultaneously does and does not want to read further into.

 

In any case, Quillfire’s talent for getting under other’s plating succeeds in making Thunderhoof move, taking his place at the Alchemore and opening a panel in order to give Fixit access to his systems.

 

“I hate to admit it, but that was impressive,” Strongarm mentions to Quillfire. “I’m wondering, where’d you learn to handle yourself like that?”

 

The porcupine-like Decepticon initially appears surprised by the not at all hostile words before breaking out a smile, quills on his back rising and falling in pleasure.

 

“Keh! It was impressive, wasn’t it? Steeljaw…”

 

That was all Strongarm needed to know; she tunes the rest of the explanation out.

 

Of course Steeljaw influenced Quillfire and taught him how to handle himself around mechs like Thunderhoof.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Which, if Strongarm thinks about it for more than five seconds, is a little surprising, as well as, dare she say, a positive thing.

 

Steeljaw teaching Quillfire how to handle more aggressive, more powerful, more dangerous Decepticons like Thunderhoof?

 

Adding on to the surprise, Quillfire sounds pleased as peach about it all. Not just about learning something new, but learning with Steeljaw. Something had to have happened between the two for any of this to have had a chance of working out as well as it has, and Strongarm for the life of her cannot fathom how that is possible.

 

“Uh, Strongarm?”

 

“What, Fixit?”

 

The cadet wishes she didn’t look up.

 

“I inputted the data from Steeljaw’s chip. I can’t find him, either.”

 

Silence, loud and clear; a contradictory statement, although fitting for the current setting.

 

“Well, if they’re not here, and they’re not there, then where are they?”

 

Strongarm doesn’t process who spoke, just what they asked.

 

It is a question she knows none of them have an answer to.

Notes:

I need ideas for character interactions, and I hope y'all won't mind lending me a hand. You will be properly credited, obviously. I did this once before for "Beyond Our Badges" and it went over well. In the meantime, I'll get some rest and think up what I can!

Chapter 2: Accord

Notes:

~ short but necessary chapter ~

“So we did that for nothin’? Great. We good now?” Thunderhoof grumbles, tearing out the lines Fixit hooked into his system.

 

“No, Thunderhoof, we’re not ‘ good ’,” Strongarm responds testily with a shake of her helm and air quotes. “Aside from all the reasons I should be arresting you and every other con in this scrapyard, your leader is missing! Disappeared out of the blue with the Lieutenant. Don’t you find that strange?”

 

“Does it matter if I do?”

 

“What part of ‘ your leader is missing’ did you not understand?”

 

“I understood yous, loud and clear,” a flippant Thunderhoof dismisses with a flick of his wrist. “I just don’t particularly care that that arrogant piece of scrap is gone.”

 

Based on how he was acting not too long ago, Strongarm doubts that what Thunderhoof just said is the truth.

 

“Uh, hey, Strongarm, quick question,” Sideswipe practically whispers into her audial.

 

“What is it, Sideswipe?” The fembot mutters.

 

“When you said that we should be arresting them…” The red mech points to the Decepticons. “You weren’t, you know, implying that we weren’t going to be arresting them, right?”

 

Strongarm didn’t think Sideswipe ever listened to her that closely, but apparently he does on occasion.

 

The answer should be obvious, but a gut feeling prevents Strongarm from speaking immediately. As much as she wants to put Thunderhoof and the others away so that she and the rest of Team Bee can completely focus on looking for Bumblebee and Steeljaw… 

 

“Strongarm?”

 

Sideswipe’s voice pierces Strongarm’s thoughts, breaking her concentration.

 

“Seriously, don’t tell me you have to actually think about putting the cons away!”

 

“We can hear you, you know!” One of the Decepticons says.

 

“Oh, sorry, almost forgot you guys were here,” Sideswipe rebukes.

 

“Don’t play smart with us, kid!”

 

“And what’re you going to do about it? Kick my skid plate? Yeah, like that’s going to happen!”

 

“Sideswipe…” Drift says in a warning tone, not that the addressed mech is going to listen.

 

“You want to go another round? Be my guest!”

 

“Oh, I’m all for it, you…”

 

“EVERYONE, BE QUIET!” Strongarm shouts, patience lost, glaring at Autobot and Decepticon alike. “I can’t think with all of you talking!”

 

Out of the corner of her optic, she sees Sideswipe open his mouth.

 

“Don’t start with me, Sideswipe! I’m not in the mood! And you’re the worst of them all! You won’t shut up!”

 

Strongarm sighs and massages her temples.

 

“Just… give me a few minutes of peace and quiet.”

 

She turns and starts to walk away, down one of the aisles.

 

“Don’t go anywhere or do anything. I want you all exactly where you are when I get back.”

 

She stops and looks over her shoulder.

 

“Except for you, Fixit, Denny, and Russel. Keep working.”

 

Strongarm doesn’t spend another second there. Without appearing as if she’s rushing, she makes her escape, further into the scrapyard. She passes piles of vintage items, hardly paying them any attention. Once she’s found a spot she believes far enough away from everyone else, she exerts an exaggerated groan mixed with a cry of frustration, untensed circuits practically turning into gelatin.

 

“Why did the Lieutenant have to disappear?”

 

Servos cover her face. She holds herself in her misery for a couple minutes.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Then, Strongarm slaps her cheeks, optics flashing wide and determined.

 

“Okay, cadet, enough dilly-dallying! Time to pull yourself together and figure out how to proceed!”

 

She paces the empty space with arms crossed, one servo holding her chin, pondering.

 

“Before we can focus on search and rescue efforts, we need to first deal with Steeljaw’s pack. Putting them in stasis is the logical solution. They’re already here, so we just need to incapacitate them. However, that would mean another fight, and we can’t risk something happening to the ground-bridge, not that the cons’ll care.”

 

Strongarm hums as something occurs to her, something she noticed earlier.

 

“Or maybe they do care, more than they’re letting on, Quillfire and Thunderhoof especially. Why, though? Not that their personal feelings are any of my business, but if their new and improved connections to each other are worth anything…”

 

It’s a dirty trick, toying with one’s emotions, but ironically, it’s something Steeljaw taught her, and perhaps playing the Decepticons at their own game is just the thing Strongarm needs in order to get them to cooperate.

 

If that doesn’t work, she can always pull out the community service card; having their sentences reduced should convince the Decepticons, at least a little.

 

Satisfied, Strongarm returns to the others. Surprisingly, they are all exactly where she left them.

 

“Cooled down yet?” Sideswipe questions, a bite to his words. One Strongarm doesn’t appreciate, but is going to let slide, because he is going to be even worse once he hears what her decision is.

 

“I have, and I have also made up my mind. Steeljaw’s pack is going to help us with the investigation.”

 

Protests abound, but Strongarm isn’t finished.

 

“In return, their cooperation will result in reduced sentences, which I highly doubt any of them are dumb enough to turn down.”

 

“Strongarm, you can’t be serious! This is crazy!” Sideswipe exclaims. “There’s no way we’d work with them and vice-versa!”

 

Unfortunately for Sideswipe, Strongarm is adamant in her decision-making.

 

“Don’t think she’s gonna budge, kid,” Fracture says, accepting the fact of the matter extremely quickly.

 

“Too bad, ‘cause the little red punk’s got a point,” Thunderhoof speaks up. Tension rises as he approaches Strongarm, coming to stand right in front of her, towering over her. “What makes you think we’ll help you?”

 

Lips twitch, stuck between keeping a straight face or smirking for the trick they’re about to pull.

 

“So you’re telling me you’re not concerned about Steeljaw at all?”

 

Thunderhoof raises an optical ridge.

 

“Why would I?”

 

Strongarm shrugs.

 

“I don’t know, you tell me. I would’ve thought you’d be happy that Steeljaw mysteriously disappeared, but instead you’re angry. You also snapped at Quillfire when he tried to explain, so it leaves me wondering…”

 

The fembot folds her arms behind her back and tilts her helm, playing innocent.

 

“Is there something going on between you two that you don’t want anyone else to know about?”

 

The gobsmacked look on Thunderhoof’s face is priceless.

 

“I… I…”

 

“Hm?” Strongarm chirps. “Well, is there?”

 

Thunderhoof blinks, then drags a servo down his face, stopping over his mouth. He remains quiet for a couple minutes, gaze averted, yet red optics flicker.

 

He is thinking.

 

Strongarm and company wait patiently, anxiously, for an answer.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You promise not to pry into our personal business, and swear to keep your word regardin’ our reduced sentences?” Thunderhoof asks, directly addressing Strongarm, looking to hold her to her word.

 

“I do,” Strongarm nods, resolute. She holds out her servo, and although still hesitant, Thunderhoof takes it in his own.

 

A deal has been struck, and every single soul hopes it wasn’t with the devil.

Chapter 3: Surprise

The first order of business is sending a team to the supplied coordinates to search for Bumblebee and Steeljaw on foot, just in case the scanners happened to be off.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Okay, technically, that’s the second order of business, since they can’t go anywhere without a working ground-bridge.

 

So, first things first, fix the ground-bridge controls.

 

Meanwhile, Strongarm will choose who is best paired with whom… 

 

“By the way, what are we going to tell the big bots back on Cybertron when one of them decides to up and call and ask for Bumblebee?”

 

A task which instantly falls on the back-burner the millisecond Sideswipe opens his mouth.

 

Strongarm tenses.

 

“. . . Scrap.”

 

“Yeah. So what’s your plan there? Because I don’t know how many bots are going to be okay with all of this,” Sideswipe says, waving an arm out to visually encompass the Decepticons currently in their midst.

 

“I… I’ll worry about that later,” Strongarm says, rattling her plating, shaking her nerves away. “Right now, my main concern is finding the Lieutenant and Steeljaw.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“If this comes back to bite us, you have my permission to put the blame on me. I’ll deal with the consequences then. For now, I have more important things to worry about.”

 

Sideswipe’s optics narrow, frustration seeping out, but he doesn’t continue the debate, much to Strongarm’s relief.

 

Now if only she can get Thunderhoof to stop looking at her like she’s a puzzle waiting to be solved.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothin’,” Thunderhoof says, rolling his helm and shoulders, looking away from the fembot. “But for a rule followin’ cadet, yous sure are makin’ some risky decisions.”

 

“I kind of don’t have much of a choice,” Strongarm admits, facing away from Thunderhoof to watch the repair team at work. She starts to panic when she sees Fracture kneeling beside them, but slowly relaxes as she takes in additional factors, like how he seems to be discussing something with Fixit, and that Drift is standing right there.

 

It’s a scene Strongarm didn’t expect, but since it’s happening right in front of her, she can’t say that it’s something she doesn’t approve of.

 

If anything, isn’t this how things should have been after the Great War ended?

 

This is what Bumblebee and Team Prime fought for for millenia, along with millions of other mechs.

 

“However, if we can get something good out of all of this, I’m willing to take just about any risk, regardless of what anyone else says,” Strongarm finishes, a soft smile alighting her face. No way in hell is she going to let all of the Lieutenant’s work be in vain.

 

Sure, it’s going to be difficult, but what part of life isn’t?

 

“Sounds like yer starting to grow up,” Thunderhoof comments, though he doesn’t sound derogatory. He sounds almost pleased.

 

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Strongarm asks, looking out of the corner of her optic.

 

“More an observation. Take it however you want.”

 

Personally, Strongarm takes it well, then spends the time it takes to repair the ground-bridge controls questioning her sanity.

 

---

 

Once the repairs are complete and the ground-bridge is up and running, Strongarm sends the combined teams of Grimlock and Underbite, and Drift and Fracture; the former for scent-based tracking and heavy lifting, and the latter for additional aid in tracking, investigating in close quarters, and the bonus job of keeping their team-mates from getting distracted, or more likely, trying to kill each other. While neither Drift nor Fracture protested, it didn’t take a genius to tell both were not pleased about the arrangement. On the other side of the spectrum, Grimlock and Overbite were very open in their displeasure at being paired together. It took some convincing, and a threat or two from Thunderhoof, but they eventually conceded.

 

A short time later, the four mechs step out into a desert, nothing but sand and rock for as far as the eye can see.

 

“It would be best if we slit up and search in different directions,” Drift says. He locks onto Fracture and Underbite, gaze hardening. “Don’t wander out of sight. Our acting leaders may expect us to work together, but that doesn’t mean we must trust each other, and I’d rather not let either of you out of my sight.”

 

“Yeesh, we get it, Drift. No need to get your wires in a bunch,” Fracture dismisses with a wave of his talons. He pops his minicons off his shoulders, Divebomb and Airazor transforming and landing at his feet. “Alright, boys, you know the drill. Let’s get hunting.”

 

The little purple menaces are all too eager to work after hearing those words.

 

Drift buries his unease and releases his own minicons.

 

“Students, are you aware of our current objective?” Drift asks, hoping the twins were listening despite lying dormant on his arms all this time.

 

“Yes, Master Drift!” They simultaneously respond with bowed heads.

 

Drift nods, then turns to their other party member. Grimlock is staring past them, normally friendly blue optics narrowed to aggressive slits. Drift doesn’t need to look to know what or who has directed their ire.

 

“Grimlock, instead of spending your time and energy glaring at Underbite, perhaps turn that focus onto a task more prudent.”

 

Optics blink.

 

A crinkled snout loosens.

 

“Prudent is another word for important, right?” Grimlock asks.

 

“Yes, Grimlock, it is,” Drift replies, smiling softly, reaching out and petting Grimlock’s neck. The Dinobot leans into the calm warmth, maw curling into a content grin.

 

The moment lasts for only a few seconds, as Drift doesn’t want the Decepticons, least of all Fracture, to see this side of him. To see how close he and Grimlock are.

 

“Alright, that is enough of that,” Drift clears his throat and pulls away from Grimlock. His spark twinges when he hears his teamie whine at the loss of contact. “We must return to work.”

 

“But we can continue later when nobody else is around, right?” Grimlock inquires pleadingly.

 

Drift sighs, but he doesn’t prevent the corners of his mouth from twitching up.

 

“I would not be opposed to that.”

 

---

 

Wind buffets the search party with loose sediment, leaving minute scratches and dents in their armor. It’s irritating. What’s worse, if there were any tracks to follow, they’re impossible to spot.

 

Grumble

Gurgle

Stomach noises

 

Underbite groans and pats his belly.

 

“I know yer hungry, but I can’t do anythin’ ‘bout it right now. Ya gonna have ta wait.”

 

He really should’ve packed snacks, but how was he supposed to know this was going to happen?

 

It isn’t that he wanted to be back at base with the other Decepticons; he just misses his horde of metal, the junk and extra stuff Steeljaw always makes sure to have around specifically for him.

 

Steeljaw has gotten better with tending to his pack’s personal needs, which is why Underbite isn’t as against this “working with Autobots” thing as others would think.

 

And it isn’t that Underbite thinks Thunderhoof is a bad leader or a better one than Steeljaw or any of that. Simply put, he likes that there’s someone else like him around. Both he and Steeljaw are pretty canid-like, and sometimes find moments to, as silly as it sounds, play.

 

When no one else is around, of course.

 

It’s relaxing, rejuvenating, and it builds trust and understanding between them.

 

Underbite has absolutely no idea what changed, but he’s glad Steeljaw was growing for them.

 

Distracted as he is, Underbite doesn’t process where he is about to step. His empty tanks almost purge what isn’t there when he puts his paw down and the ground gives.

 

“Oh scrap!”

 

Underbite moves the quickest he’s ever moved and speedwalks backwards. It takes a few minutes for his spark to settle down.

 

“Whoo, that was close.”

 

Grumble

Gurgle

 

“Eh, guess it’s a good thing I didn’t fill ya up yet.”

 

Underbite looks away from his stomach to where he almost fell. Hesitant yet curious, he pads closer, careful where he steps this time. He stops just before the edge and looks over as best he can. A sheer drop is what greets him.

 

“Aw man, if they were here…”

 

A pause, followed by a chuckle.

 

“Heh. Although, it’d be stupid of Steeljaw not to notice somethin’ like this.”

 

Underbite hums, a frown forming.

 

“But I guess he ain’t always smart. He can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

 

The Chompazoid steps away from the ravine and calls Fracture, who proceeds to call Drift over an old commline, and the message eventually reaches Grimlock.

 

Soon, everyone is gathered and peering into the abyss.

 

“That is a long way down,” Fracture whistles.

 

“Quite, especially since I cannot see the bottom,” Drift says.

 

“I don’t think any of us can.”

 

“Do you think they’re down there?” Grimlock asks, nerves a poorly-contained mess.

 

Underbite is uncertain what sharing his rival’s sentiments in this particular situation says about him, and he’d rather not think on it too hard.

 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Drift says. “Someone needs to go down there.”

 

For a moment, nobody responds.

 

“Well, I ain’t goin’ down there,” Underbite says.

 

“I didn’t have you or Grimlock in mind. It would mean certain death if either of you attempted to,” Drift replies.

 

That is a relief, because Underbite has no idea how they would have gotten him or Grimlock down safely in the first place.

 

Suddenly, Airazor and Divebomb are recalled.

 

“Fracture, what are you doing?” Drift asks.

 

“Don’t worry, Drift. Unlike your minicons, mine can fly,” Fracture says, just before ejecting Airazor and Divebomb. The two missiles disappear within seconds.

 

“Being able to stay airborne is not the same as flying,” Drift argues, stepping protectively in front of Slipstream and Jetstorm; whether it was intentional or not is up for debate.

 

“There’s no need for you to get so worked up over my minicons. They’ll be fine. I’ve put them through worse than sending them down some random hole.”

 

“How those two are still alive with you as their ‘master’ is beyond my comprehension.”

 

Fracture’s smirk falls.

 

“At least I don’t baby my minicons!”

 

Underbite knows for certain that that is a flat-out lie, but he isn’t going to throw Fracture under the bus in front of the Autobots.

 

“Master Drift does not baby us!” Jetstorm snaps. It takes one look from Drift to send the minicon hiding behind Grimlock. “Apologies, Master Drift.”

 

The orange and black deployment carrier just sighs and shakes his helm.

 

It’d be funny if Underbite’s tanks weren’t roiling in nausea from hunger and worry.

 

The sound of missiles approaching catches the waiting mechs’ attention. Airazor and Divebomb crest the top of the ravine, transform midair, and incur a bit of a rough landing.

 

“So, you two find any bodies down there?” Fracture asks, not waiting for his minicons to catch their breaths.

 

“No, we didn’t,” Divebomb huffs.

 

Well, that’s good. A weight off everyone’s shoulders.

 

“But we found something else!” Airazor reports, throwing up his tiny arms.

 

“Oh yeah? What’d ya find?” Fracture asks.

 

Airazor and Divebomb share a look, small mouths spread in wide, toothy grins.

 

“A Cybertronian escape pod.”

 

That… isn’t what any of them were expecting.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Beyond Our Badges