Magic and Loss, ch. 3
Chapter 3: The Trick is to Keep Breathing
Inexplicably nervous, Bluestreak hovered in the hallway outside Wheeljack's lab. His recharge had gone poorly the previous night, and his roommate, Beachcomber, had been forced to awaken him from his relentless nightmares four times. He hadn't been plagued so badly during his sleep in half a vorn, but with the added thought of being a genitor weighing on him, peaceful rest was impossible.
Bluestreak shuddered and buzzed the door comm.
"Come in!" came the immediate reply.
Bluestreak triggered the door release and stepped inside a lab that looked like organized chaos. Shelves of mostly identifiable components lined the left and back walls, while the right wall sported a computer terminal and worktable. The door to a storage room stood open in the back. From the racks in the ceiling, multiple tools hung, ready to be used. To anyone but Wheeljack, it looked cluttered, but everyone realized that he knew exactly where everything was.
Wheeljack looked up from the computer. "I'd hoped to see you this morning." His vocal indicators flashed bright blue as he spoke. "But where's Sunny?"
"Still in medbay." Bluestreak shifted from foot to foot. "I know I'm supposed to come see you and Sunny said I should work with you and I'm on second shift right now so it made sense to stop by this morning so I came but I still feel like I'm bothering you."
Wheeljack rubbed his hands together. "Not at all! I'm excited. It's been forever since I got to design and build a sparkling's protoform." He gestured at an open spot on his workbench. "Sit down. Tell me what ideas you've had."
Accepting the gesture, Bluestreak sat beside Wheeljack, but he stared at the computer terminal instead of meeting his gaze. "Well Sunny said it has to be a warrior and have yellow in the paint job and I guess that makes sense because we're in the middle of a war."
"Hold up there." Wheeljack squeezed his shoulder. "It's not just about what Sunstreaker wants. It's your sparkling, too. Having warriors is pragmatic, but who said you had to conform to Sunstreaker's wishes? If that's not what you want for your sparkling, you should speak up."
Bluestreak smiled at him shyly. "I-I guess you're right." He paused and tried to sort out his feelings, for once short on words. "I'd like my sparkling to be the type who resolves conflicts and heals communities but at the same time I think it makes sense to choose a warrior and I want my offspring to be able to defend . . . himself? Herself?" He frowned, suddenly realizing he'd have to pick a body model.
"Now there's a basic question." Wheeljack punched a few codes into the computer, and two generic protoforms appeared on the screen - one male and one female. "No one really knows why our creators gave us genders when we're not sexual reproducers. The reigning theory is that our creators wanted us to socially mimic them." He directed the computer to pull the female protoform to the front. "But regardless of the reasons why we have genders, you need to decide if you want a mech or a femme."
Bluestreak stared at the sleek form of the femme design, and for a moment, all he could see was his younger sister. "I had a sister," he blurted out, not meaning to bring up the past but unable to stop himself. The image brought up painful memories. "She was studying at the local engineering academy when our city was attacked. When you all arrived and started scanning the ruins I hoped Silverwind had been spared but she was dead too just like all the rest." He shuddered, his processor calling up the image of the flattened academy, nothing remaining but charred ruins.
"Blue . . ." Wheeljack's tone was unusually soft. "Would you like to honor her memory? If you two agreed on a femme, we could use her colors and add yellow into the mix. Unless she already had yellow?"
Bluestreak shook his head. "She had a silver base color like mine with blue and black accents." He crossed his arms over his abdomen, pondering the idea. He couldn't replace his sister, but honoring her did sound appealing, almost comforting. "We could design a femme with a silver base color and yellow and blue accents."
"That would work quite nicely." Wheeljack pulled up a color palate on the screen.
Seeing the color swatches, Bluestreak straightened suddenly, struck by an idea. "Yes that sounds good! Silver for Silverwind and me, blue for Jazz, and yellow for Sunny. Plus I want her to have a chevron like Prowl and me." He grinned, able to muster some excitement. "My creators both had silver in their paint so I will be honoring them too and we can make the chevron and face both silver and it should look great on a Datsun model!"
Wheeljack laughed. "Now you're talking." He paused, fingers hovering over the computer controls. "So you and Sunstreaker have agreed to use your Datsun alt mode for the sparkling?"
"Oh, uh, no." Bluestreak slumped. "I guess I got carried away imaging the possibilities but no Sunny and I haven't talked alt modes so I don't know if he'll agree to that or insist that the alt mode be a Lamborghini model."
Wheeljack snorted. "Knowing him, he'll want a Lamborghini designed to look just like him." He patted Bluestreak's arm. "Still, talk to him about it. If he's going to insist on a warrior, then you should be able to insist on something, too. So run the idea of a femme with a Datsun alt mode past him."
Nodding, Bluestreak gave him a small smile. "Okay I will. Would you mind putting together a quick exterior design for us?"
"No problem!" Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed a merry blue, and he seemed to radiate enthusiasm.
Bluestreak impulsively squeezed his arm. "Thanks 'Jack. You're so kind and easy-going." He stood, then paused as a wistful feeling flitted through his circuits. "You know I kinda wish I could have a femme and name her Silverwind. In my region's dialect the name 'Silverwind' was associated with bravery so maybe Sunny would go for that."
Wheeljack cocked his head. "Really? In my region's dialect, the name 'Silverwind' was associated with purity. But, yeah, I'm sure that Sunny would find the bravery connotation appealing."
"I admit I'm beginning to wonder why I'm trying so hard to please him." Bluestreak frowned and walked to the door, then stopped to glance over his shoulder. "Still we are a couple and that means working together and compromising at times and so I do have to forgive him for yesterday in order to get through this."
"Well, that's true." Wheeljack pointed to his computer terminal. "Give me about four joors, and I'll have a draft of the design for you."
"Great! Thanks." Bluestreak exited the lab. In the quiet of the hallway, though, he found himself growing tense. He hadn't even heard from Sunstreaker since their talk in the medbay. As much as he wanted things to work out, he knew that wasn't a good sign.
"I hope he's in a better mood now," he muttered to himself, heading toward medbay.
oOoOo
Bluestreak peaked inside the ICU room and tried to assess Sunstreaker's mood. He was glaring at the holophoto display, his arms crossed over his chest. It didn't bode well and likely meant he was more in the mood for Jet Judo than talking.
"Well?" Sunstreaker asked without looking away from the display. "Are you coming in or staying out?"
Flinching, Bluestreak walked into the room and sat in the chair by the berth. "Uh, when is Ratchet going to release you?"
"He says I have to wait three more breems." Sunstreaker continued staring at the holophoto. "He replaced my SMER first thing this morning, but he wants to wait until my systems adjust and then analyze it for effectiveness."
"Oh." Bluestreak paused, unsure if he should proceed or not. Still, he knew enough about sparklings to know they only gestated for about twelve Earth weeks, so he couldn't put off his questions forever. "I, uh, talked to Wheeljack and we came up with some ideas so he's going to work up an exterior-only model for us. I told him we wanted a warrior and to use yellow in the paint."
"Good."
Getting no further reaction, Bluestreak held in a sigh and continued. "But we have to decide if we want a femme or a mech and what alt mode we want. I had a sister who was killed in the attack on Praxus so I'd really like to honor her memory and make it a femme."
Sunstreaker shrugged. "Sure. I don't care which. It's stupid that we have genders at all, and one's as good as the other."
"Okay." Bluestreak felt his doorwings twitch as a wave of irritation swept through him. Sunstreaker didn't seem the least bit interested in their conversation. "My sister was built with a model very close to mine so I'd also like her alt mode to be a Datsun like mine. Is that all right with you?"
Finally, Sunstreaker frowned and turned his gaze to him. "A Datsun Fairlady Z?" He snorted. "My form is far more beautiful. A Lamborghini Countach LP500S is the only way to go."
"Beautiful?" Bluestreak felt the twinge in his back as his doorwings arched with anger. "That's the last thing to worry about! We have to ensure the sparkling has the best engine and best armor and top speed and top programming. This is a war we're in not a beauty pageant!"
Sunstreaker growled at him. "I realize that! That's why she'll have the best of everything, including looks. If I'm going to have a sparkling, she'll be exceptional in every way, the most exceptional Autobot to ever live."
"Well I hope she doesn't get your ego and arrogance." Bluestreak stood and towered over his lover. "You are so vain! There's nothing wrong with the Datsun Fairlady Z model and I wish I'd known you had so little regard for my alt form. If I'm so ugly why did you begin dating me in the first place or have you just resigned yourself to the fact that everyone you ever 'face is going to be ugly compared to you?"
Sunstreaker glared at him momentarily, then suddenly burst into laughter. "Wow! Carrying a sparkling sure put a lot of fight into you. Maybe we should keep you carrying all the time if this is the result. I can't wait to see you on the battlefield now."
Taken aback, Bluestreak simply stared at Sunstreaker for a klik. "That's rude," he replied curtly, then smacked Sunstreaker upside the helm. "She'll have a Datsun alt mode because I'm the one who has to slaggin' carry her and all you have to do is watch! If I have to put up with the separation pains then I get to choose the model."
Sunstreaker kept laughing. "Whatever! Whatever, whatever." He waved his hands in front of his chest. "If you feel that strongly about it, fine. Just don't blame me when she can't get a date later in life."
Infuriated by the implied insult, Bluestreak stalked toward the door. "Well I got a date from you so it can't be that bad!"
"Hey, Blue!" Sunstreaker yelled after him as he left. "Love the 'tude! Come talk to me again once your programming is balanced."
"Take your head and shove it up your aft!" Bluestreak suspected Ratchet would show up soon to quiet them, but he didn't care and knew Sunstreaker didn't either. In fact, Sunstreaker just kept laughing, and the sound chased Bluestreak out of the medbay.
oOoOo
Neither watching nor caring where he was headed, Bluestreak dashed through the hall, wanting nothing more than to find Jazz or Prowl. He needed to talk to someone about Sunstreaker's attitude, about the whole mess, about why he felt such strange emotions, and about what he should do next. Caught in those thoughts, he wasn't surprised to round the corner and smack right into another mech. He always tended to do that when he wasn't paying enough attention.
"Sorry," Bluestreak mumbled before looking up to see who he'd nearly plowed down.
Wheeljack had one hand on the wall, as though steadying his balance. "Whoa, Blue! Careful. We practically ended up swapping paint there."
"Sorry," Bluestreak repeated, staring at the ground. His emotional programming seemed to be going haywire. First he was irritated, then enraged, and now he felt like crying.
A grey hand clasped his elbow. "Hey, I came to see what all the yelling was about. I couldn't make out what you were saying, but I could hear your voice all the way in my lab."
Bluestreak cringed. "Oh." He brought one hand up to his forehead, hoping to hide the tears of coolant pooling in his optics as his processor tried to overheat. "I didn't realize I was being quite that loud and I'm sorry I interrupted your concentration but you shouldn't worry about it and I don't want to distract you from your work."
"No problem." Wheeljack tugged on his arm, pulling him down the hallway toward his lab. "But you wanna tell me what that was all about?"
Bluestreak tried his best to hold in the words as Wheeljack ushered him into the lab, but he lacked the capacity to restrain his vocalizer. Feeling patently stupid and childish, he released his emotions in a rush. "Sunny said I was ugly!" He clenched his fists and felt tears running down his cheeks. "He said the sparkling should be a Lamborghini so she can be beautiful."
A soft chuckle met this announcement. "You are not ugly," Wheeljack said. "Sunny's just vain. If he really thought you were ugly, he wouldn't date you."
Bluestreak shook his head. "But-but-but he has no concept of what's important in life and it's an insult to me too and why doesn't he see that what really matters are things like family and ending this war and rebuilding Cybertron to the peaceful world it used to be? Why is everything about appearance and superficial stuff with him and how can he say things like that about me when I would sacrifice anything for him if he just believed in me or in us? I swear I care and I care and I care and I have nothing to show for it!" Unable to control himself, he began sobbing.
Strong arms pulled Bluestreak into an embrace. "I know." Wheeljack held him close. "I've been watching you a long time: you think and act based on what's in your spark, and you hate conflict and violence. You want to help others, and you have great empathy for their suffering. But because of that, this war and all its death sicken you, and the gung-ho types like Brawn and Sunny misunderstand you or look down on you."
"It's stupid." Bluestreak cried against his chest, his doorwings vibrating with the violent emotions. "How are we supposed to rebuild our world when all we're surrounded by is senseless violence and how can we claim we protect life if we kill each other all the time? And if I hate that why does that make me a freak or too soft or someone to be made fun of?"
A warm hand rubbed his back between his doorwings. "I don't think you're odd or weak," Wheeljack said. "I believe we need mechs who will dream up and work toward a better future. Don't let go of that idealism." He paused. "Now slowly pull air through your intakes. You need to calm down. Your Gestation Protection program has thrown your emotional subroutines off kilter."
Bluestreak tucked his face into Wheeljack's shoulder, hugging his waist tightly. A clash of emotions warred within him: anger, embarrassment, sadness, horror, and also comfort. "S-s-sorry. I feel so strange." His mortification was beginning to win. "And here I am crying all over you!"
Another quiet chuckle. "I've seen far weirder reactions from carriers, I promise." The warm hand patted his back, then continued to rub between his doorwings, soothing him.
"Weirder than spontaneous tears?" Bluestreak asked, slowly relaxing. Wheeljack's care and understanding seemed almost tangible they were so warm. "Weirder than the inexplicable urge to behead your bondmate or lover?"
Wheeljack laughed. "Oh, much stranger than that! Although the beheading part is pretty standard for carriers at the end of the gestation period."
Bluestreak pulled his head away from Wheeljack's chest and met his gaze. "Oh. If you say so." He watched the engineer for a klik, noting the obvious amusement in his optics and the way his vocal indicators flashed brightly when he laughed again. The mask hid what was likely a smile, and Bluestreak found his presence calming.
"You'll be fine, I promise," Wheeljack said, reaching up with one hand and wiping the coolant off his cheeks. "You just need to remember that the GP program intensifies all your emotions, but like I said the other orn, it makes you especially prone to anger and irritability. You watch out for that, okay?" His tone turned teasing. "Beheadings aren't a good thing, especially for 'bots who don't like to fight."
Bluestreak stared at him in awe, struck by Wheeljack's affection. Someone other than Prowl, Jazz, and Optimus Prime cares about me? he thought, stunned by the prospect. A moment later he realized he'd not thought to include Sunstreaker and felt a pulse of concern over his omission. "Yes sir."
Wheeljack released him and patted his arm. "Good. So should I work up a Lamborghini model and a Datsun model both?"
"No." Bluestreak frowned. "I told Sunny she would have a Fairlady Z alt mode and he actually didn't argue with me so just draw up that design spec."
"All right, then. I'll go back to work." Wheeljack headed for his computer terminal. "I have a ton of new design ideas I've been dying to try out for vorns."
"Sounds good. Thanks 'Jack." Bluestreak smiled at him, realizing he was glad to have run into him. A new friend? he asked himself as he left. I sure hope so because I need as many as possible right now, and Wheeljack's always so laid back.
In an oddly good mood for someone who'd just been crying, Bluestreak headed for his post early.
oOoOo
Several nanokliks passed before Wheeljack realized someone was standing in his lab's doorway. He forcefully extracted his attention from the sparkling's protoform design and glanced at his visitor. "Your creators certainly named you well, Prowl."
The tactician silently watched him, his grey face impassive, his arms crossed over his chest. Still, a faint twitch in the black and white doorwings told Wheeljack all he needed to know. Prowl was worried about something.
"Come in and shut the door," he said, waving Prowl in. "I've been working nonstop on this protoform for nearly twelve joors. As much as I love tackling new designs, I could use a break."
Prowl entered, the door hissing shut behind him. "Thank you for being so upbeat around Bluestreak. I know it can't be easy for you, but Jazz told me that Bluestreak's been excited about the sparkling's design since talking to you this morning."
For a moment, Wheeljack considered ignoring the implication behind Prowl's words, but he knew it'd never work. "Hey, I always knew I didn't have a chance with Blue, even before he started dating Sunny. Besides, I really do enjoy working on protoforms."
"I wish you weren't so hard-headed." Prowl leaned against the wall, his arms still crossed, and frowned. "Yes, there's an age difference between you two, but out of all the mechs in the base, you're one of the very few Jazz and I would trust to really take care of Bluestreak. And I thought my spark would extinguish when I first saw him together with Sunstreaker." He sighed. "Smokescreen, Tracks, even Sideswipe . . . anyone would have been better than Sunstreaker."
"You're not wrong," Wheeljack muttered, staring back at his computer. A silver, blue, and yellow femme body was rotating slowly on the screen, while on each side a list of specs was aligned. Even thinking about the concept of Sunstreaker and Bluestreak officially bonded made him ill, but he'd been hiding his feelings for half a vorn before the crash on Earth. In his mind, the choice to remain silent about his crush was purely pragmatic. "I'm not sure Sunny's going to hold up under the idea of being a genitor, and they got into another argument this morning. Of course, if they break up that means that Blue will end up raising the sparkling by himself, but with you and Jazz to help, I think it'd be for the best."
"And once again I say you're too stubborn." Prowl paused. "I realize it's none of my business, which is why I've never asked, but at this point I feel compelled to inquire anyway. Why have you been so resistant to the thought of asking Bluestreak out? It can't be just an age issue. There are plenty of bonded couples with far greater age differences than yours."
Wheeljack shook his head. He could list a thousand practical reasons to hide his feelings without even mentioning what concerned him most. "What about regulations? No officers with enlisted?"
"Prime ordered me to ignore that one, pending an official repealing of it."
"You're not afraid I'll accidentally blow him up?"
"I'd rather watch Ratchet repair his physical body than see him take more emotional wounds."
"I tend to work long past my shift and oftentimes because I have to. You're not afraid he'll be lonely?"
"I know you. You'll find a way. Besides, he does have Jazz and me, too."
"But there's also the issue of - "
"Stop making excuses." Prowl pushed away from the wall and walked over to him. "You once told me that it had been painful to watch Jazz and I dance around each other for so long. I finally understand what you meant."
Wheeljack sighed. "That's the problem, Prowl. You and Jazz secretly loved each other and wouldn't admit it. As curious as I get sometimes about what it would be like to date Blue, I also know that I've never been anything than just another random officer to him."
"Don't make me drag Jazz into this." Prowl leaned over him slightly. "If Bluestreak thought he could do better and he and Sunstreaker are fighting, this is the perfect opportunity."
A jolt of fear surged in Wheeljack's spark, and he jumped to his feet. "Oh, no you don't! You swore you'd never tell Jazz. Slaggit, I've never even figured out how you noticed, but I've been extra careful since. Don't you dare turn that tactical computer of yours to matchmaking, and if you unleash Jazz on me, I'll never forgive you."
Prowl held up both hands. "You know I wouldn't break my promise to you, technically, but I do have to weigh all the factors."
"That's dirty, Prowl, and not like you." Wheeljack felt angered at the implied possible betrayal. "You're actually trying my patience here."
Lowering his hands, Prowl turned his gaze upon the floor. "Sorry, Wheeljack, I just have never been good with emotional puzzles. I don't understand why you're so convinced Blue wouldn't date you when you haven't even tried, especially when I happen to know you're ready to be in a permanent bond and Bluestreak is a diehard romantic who daydreams about being spark-bound."
Wheeljack stared at the SIC for long moments, his winglets vibrating slightly with tension as his irritation battled his horror. "Since you threatened to pull in Jazz, I guess I'll have to show you."
"Show me?" Prowl glanced up. "What do you mean?" He paused. "Oh, Wheeljack, if it bothers you so much, I'll never speak of it again. I just wish Bluestreak could be with someone who - "
Wheeljack didn't allow him to finish. He triggered his blast mask open.
Prowl halted mid-sentence and stared.
Preparing himself for shock, disgust, or pity, Wheeljack gathered his nerve and spoke. "Ironic, isn't it?" He forced himself to discuss the issue clinically and hoped Prowl wouldn't glitch. "It was caused by a rare flaw that can arise in protoforms when a spark is gestated rather than infused. An infused spark can't trigger the reaction because the energy transfer comes instantly and directly from the Creation Matrix. When a spark is generated from a merging, it requires transferring the sparkling from the genitor and attaching it to the new body. That stage is where the flaw can be triggered."
Prowl stared at him a few more astroseconds, and Wheeljack feared his CPU had frozen. However, he finally spoke. "I had no idea."
Wheeljack shrugged, trying to evoke his usual carefree attitude. "Well, I began inventing things as a sparkling, but in the end, this is the real reason I went into engineering: so things like this wouldn't happen to others." He gestured toward the screen where the sparkling design still rotated. "At the Engineering Academy, I actually did my thesis on protoform defects and solutions. I wanted a fresh take on the problem, to explore every possibility, and to generate a whole new approach. Until the war started, I worked exclusively as a protoform designer and generated my other inventions solely during my spare time."
Prowl reached up and ran his hand over his chin, but Wheeljack couldn't tell if the gesture was empathetic or simply a sign of his being deep in thought. "It's unusual," Prowl said, "but hardly the most important thing about you. I see why you're uncomfortable with it, but it's only a minor part of a much larger and positive whole."
Wheeljack realized belatedly that Prowl was the last 'bot in the universe who would react emotionally to his appearance. He relaxed faintly, knowing he wouldn't have to face the inevitable horror or revulsion. Out of all those who'd seen his face, the only other one to not be repelled was Ratchet.
"You underestimate yourself. More than that, you underestimate Bluestreak," Prowl said, turning toward the door. He paused as the door hissed open, then glanced back. "If this were an engineering issue and I told you that you couldn't solve the problem, you wouldn't rest until you did. No one can ever tell you that you can't fix something, so why are you giving up so easily now?"
Triggering his mask closed again, Wheeljack stared at the door after it cycled shut. "I wish I could believe you and accept your challenge," he replied even though Prowl was no longer present. "But a lifetime's of experience tells me otherwise. This seems to be the one problem I can't create a solution for."
oOoOo
When his shift ended, Bluestreak headed toward the rec room, having determined that Sunstreaker was there, with the intention of having a long talk with his lover. Ratchet had grabbed him earlier and explained more about the Gestation Protection program and the entire gestation process, leaving Bluestreak feeling reassured and focused by all the extra knowledge. Also, Jazz had cheered him up during his lunch break. Feeling equipped sit down with Sunstreaker had have a serious discussion without arguing, Bluestreak was now determined to apologize if necessary and broach the subject of Sunstreaker's and his future together now that they would be genitors.
The rec room doors parted as Bluestreak approached, but to his surprise, a red blur exited and nearly crashed into him. He yelped and threw up his hands to ward off an accident.
Sideswipe halted abruptly, grabbing Bluestreak's elbows and steadying them both. "Blue! Oh! Er, I'm sorry. Sunny's in a bad mood, and I got slagged off, too, so I was in a hurry to leave so I wouldn't end up in the brig for bashing in my own brother's head, and I really suggest you don't approach him right now because he's been in a foul mood since Ratchet released him from medbay."
Bluestreak realized suddenly how his running dialogue sounded to other mechs, but he didn't waste time analyzing it. He was more concerned about what had made Sideswipe so upset. "Sides? What did Sunny do?"
Glancing away, Sideswipe stared at a point on the wall. "Oh, you know Sunny and his moods. Once he loses his temper, he doesn't care who he hurts."
Unable to tell if it was the Gestation Protection program or not, Bluestreak felt a sense of impending doom. "What are you not telling me?"
Sideswipe started faintly, apparently taken aback by Bluestreak's tone. "Look, let's just leave it alone for now, okay? We can go back to my room and play some video games or something while we wait for Sunny to get over himself."
"Sides." Bluestreak felt his patience shredding.
Prowl turned the corner and approached them. "Is there a problem?"
Sideswipe looked like he'd just been caught stealing classified data from Prime's office. "Oh, er, no, sir. I was just - "
Prowl walked up to Sideswipe's shoulder and frowned. "You never get this twitchy unless - "
The rec room's doors, registering Prowl's proximity, hissed open. Sideswipe grew deathly still, and Bluestreak and Prowl glanced past him into the room. There, right on the couch, Sunstreaker and Smokescreen were openly flirting, touching each others' arms or legs as they talked and laughed.
"Isn't Smokescreen dating you?" Bluestreak asked, feeling a deep, slow burn in his tanks. He couldn't seem to move his gaze from the flirts.
"I . . . yes. He was." Sideswipe still hadn't released his arms and in fact tightened his grip. "Blue . . ."
Prowl made a noise almost like a growl. "I knew it!"
Bluestreak felt the burn creep through his circuits and systems, lighting his entire body aflame. With sudden clarity he realized that the Gestation Protection program was indeed intensifying his wrath, but he found he couldn't control the sweeping rage when he already had a reason to be angry. His entire body quivered from the impact of his emotions, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of hatred, and his stare never left Sunstreaker.
"Blue?" Sideswipe sounded worried.
For once speaking slowly and clearly, Bluestreak decided to be blunt. "You have three astroseconds to stop me from killing them both." Then he released the Pit on Earth.
Inexplicably nervous, Bluestreak hovered in the hallway outside Wheeljack's lab. His recharge had gone poorly the previous night, and his roommate, Beachcomber, had been forced to awaken him from his relentless nightmares four times. He hadn't been plagued so badly during his sleep in half a vorn, but with the added thought of being a genitor weighing on him, peaceful rest was impossible.
Bluestreak shuddered and buzzed the door comm.
"Come in!" came the immediate reply.
Bluestreak triggered the door release and stepped inside a lab that looked like organized chaos. Shelves of mostly identifiable components lined the left and back walls, while the right wall sported a computer terminal and worktable. The door to a storage room stood open in the back. From the racks in the ceiling, multiple tools hung, ready to be used. To anyone but Wheeljack, it looked cluttered, but everyone realized that he knew exactly where everything was.
Wheeljack looked up from the computer. "I'd hoped to see you this morning." His vocal indicators flashed bright blue as he spoke. "But where's Sunny?"
"Still in medbay." Bluestreak shifted from foot to foot. "I know I'm supposed to come see you and Sunny said I should work with you and I'm on second shift right now so it made sense to stop by this morning so I came but I still feel like I'm bothering you."
Wheeljack rubbed his hands together. "Not at all! I'm excited. It's been forever since I got to design and build a sparkling's protoform." He gestured at an open spot on his workbench. "Sit down. Tell me what ideas you've had."
Accepting the gesture, Bluestreak sat beside Wheeljack, but he stared at the computer terminal instead of meeting his gaze. "Well Sunny said it has to be a warrior and have yellow in the paint job and I guess that makes sense because we're in the middle of a war."
"Hold up there." Wheeljack squeezed his shoulder. "It's not just about what Sunstreaker wants. It's your sparkling, too. Having warriors is pragmatic, but who said you had to conform to Sunstreaker's wishes? If that's not what you want for your sparkling, you should speak up."
Bluestreak smiled at him shyly. "I-I guess you're right." He paused and tried to sort out his feelings, for once short on words. "I'd like my sparkling to be the type who resolves conflicts and heals communities but at the same time I think it makes sense to choose a warrior and I want my offspring to be able to defend . . . himself? Herself?" He frowned, suddenly realizing he'd have to pick a body model.
"Now there's a basic question." Wheeljack punched a few codes into the computer, and two generic protoforms appeared on the screen - one male and one female. "No one really knows why our creators gave us genders when we're not sexual reproducers. The reigning theory is that our creators wanted us to socially mimic them." He directed the computer to pull the female protoform to the front. "But regardless of the reasons why we have genders, you need to decide if you want a mech or a femme."
Bluestreak stared at the sleek form of the femme design, and for a moment, all he could see was his younger sister. "I had a sister," he blurted out, not meaning to bring up the past but unable to stop himself. The image brought up painful memories. "She was studying at the local engineering academy when our city was attacked. When you all arrived and started scanning the ruins I hoped Silverwind had been spared but she was dead too just like all the rest." He shuddered, his processor calling up the image of the flattened academy, nothing remaining but charred ruins.
"Blue . . ." Wheeljack's tone was unusually soft. "Would you like to honor her memory? If you two agreed on a femme, we could use her colors and add yellow into the mix. Unless she already had yellow?"
Bluestreak shook his head. "She had a silver base color like mine with blue and black accents." He crossed his arms over his abdomen, pondering the idea. He couldn't replace his sister, but honoring her did sound appealing, almost comforting. "We could design a femme with a silver base color and yellow and blue accents."
"That would work quite nicely." Wheeljack pulled up a color palate on the screen.
Seeing the color swatches, Bluestreak straightened suddenly, struck by an idea. "Yes that sounds good! Silver for Silverwind and me, blue for Jazz, and yellow for Sunny. Plus I want her to have a chevron like Prowl and me." He grinned, able to muster some excitement. "My creators both had silver in their paint so I will be honoring them too and we can make the chevron and face both silver and it should look great on a Datsun model!"
Wheeljack laughed. "Now you're talking." He paused, fingers hovering over the computer controls. "So you and Sunstreaker have agreed to use your Datsun alt mode for the sparkling?"
"Oh, uh, no." Bluestreak slumped. "I guess I got carried away imaging the possibilities but no Sunny and I haven't talked alt modes so I don't know if he'll agree to that or insist that the alt mode be a Lamborghini model."
Wheeljack snorted. "Knowing him, he'll want a Lamborghini designed to look just like him." He patted Bluestreak's arm. "Still, talk to him about it. If he's going to insist on a warrior, then you should be able to insist on something, too. So run the idea of a femme with a Datsun alt mode past him."
Nodding, Bluestreak gave him a small smile. "Okay I will. Would you mind putting together a quick exterior design for us?"
"No problem!" Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed a merry blue, and he seemed to radiate enthusiasm.
Bluestreak impulsively squeezed his arm. "Thanks 'Jack. You're so kind and easy-going." He stood, then paused as a wistful feeling flitted through his circuits. "You know I kinda wish I could have a femme and name her Silverwind. In my region's dialect the name 'Silverwind' was associated with bravery so maybe Sunny would go for that."
Wheeljack cocked his head. "Really? In my region's dialect, the name 'Silverwind' was associated with purity. But, yeah, I'm sure that Sunny would find the bravery connotation appealing."
"I admit I'm beginning to wonder why I'm trying so hard to please him." Bluestreak frowned and walked to the door, then stopped to glance over his shoulder. "Still we are a couple and that means working together and compromising at times and so I do have to forgive him for yesterday in order to get through this."
"Well, that's true." Wheeljack pointed to his computer terminal. "Give me about four joors, and I'll have a draft of the design for you."
"Great! Thanks." Bluestreak exited the lab. In the quiet of the hallway, though, he found himself growing tense. He hadn't even heard from Sunstreaker since their talk in the medbay. As much as he wanted things to work out, he knew that wasn't a good sign.
"I hope he's in a better mood now," he muttered to himself, heading toward medbay.
oOoOo
Bluestreak peaked inside the ICU room and tried to assess Sunstreaker's mood. He was glaring at the holophoto display, his arms crossed over his chest. It didn't bode well and likely meant he was more in the mood for Jet Judo than talking.
"Well?" Sunstreaker asked without looking away from the display. "Are you coming in or staying out?"
Flinching, Bluestreak walked into the room and sat in the chair by the berth. "Uh, when is Ratchet going to release you?"
"He says I have to wait three more breems." Sunstreaker continued staring at the holophoto. "He replaced my SMER first thing this morning, but he wants to wait until my systems adjust and then analyze it for effectiveness."
"Oh." Bluestreak paused, unsure if he should proceed or not. Still, he knew enough about sparklings to know they only gestated for about twelve Earth weeks, so he couldn't put off his questions forever. "I, uh, talked to Wheeljack and we came up with some ideas so he's going to work up an exterior-only model for us. I told him we wanted a warrior and to use yellow in the paint."
"Good."
Getting no further reaction, Bluestreak held in a sigh and continued. "But we have to decide if we want a femme or a mech and what alt mode we want. I had a sister who was killed in the attack on Praxus so I'd really like to honor her memory and make it a femme."
Sunstreaker shrugged. "Sure. I don't care which. It's stupid that we have genders at all, and one's as good as the other."
"Okay." Bluestreak felt his doorwings twitch as a wave of irritation swept through him. Sunstreaker didn't seem the least bit interested in their conversation. "My sister was built with a model very close to mine so I'd also like her alt mode to be a Datsun like mine. Is that all right with you?"
Finally, Sunstreaker frowned and turned his gaze to him. "A Datsun Fairlady Z?" He snorted. "My form is far more beautiful. A Lamborghini Countach LP500S is the only way to go."
"Beautiful?" Bluestreak felt the twinge in his back as his doorwings arched with anger. "That's the last thing to worry about! We have to ensure the sparkling has the best engine and best armor and top speed and top programming. This is a war we're in not a beauty pageant!"
Sunstreaker growled at him. "I realize that! That's why she'll have the best of everything, including looks. If I'm going to have a sparkling, she'll be exceptional in every way, the most exceptional Autobot to ever live."
"Well I hope she doesn't get your ego and arrogance." Bluestreak stood and towered over his lover. "You are so vain! There's nothing wrong with the Datsun Fairlady Z model and I wish I'd known you had so little regard for my alt form. If I'm so ugly why did you begin dating me in the first place or have you just resigned yourself to the fact that everyone you ever 'face is going to be ugly compared to you?"
Sunstreaker glared at him momentarily, then suddenly burst into laughter. "Wow! Carrying a sparkling sure put a lot of fight into you. Maybe we should keep you carrying all the time if this is the result. I can't wait to see you on the battlefield now."
Taken aback, Bluestreak simply stared at Sunstreaker for a klik. "That's rude," he replied curtly, then smacked Sunstreaker upside the helm. "She'll have a Datsun alt mode because I'm the one who has to slaggin' carry her and all you have to do is watch! If I have to put up with the separation pains then I get to choose the model."
Sunstreaker kept laughing. "Whatever! Whatever, whatever." He waved his hands in front of his chest. "If you feel that strongly about it, fine. Just don't blame me when she can't get a date later in life."
Infuriated by the implied insult, Bluestreak stalked toward the door. "Well I got a date from you so it can't be that bad!"
"Hey, Blue!" Sunstreaker yelled after him as he left. "Love the 'tude! Come talk to me again once your programming is balanced."
"Take your head and shove it up your aft!" Bluestreak suspected Ratchet would show up soon to quiet them, but he didn't care and knew Sunstreaker didn't either. In fact, Sunstreaker just kept laughing, and the sound chased Bluestreak out of the medbay.
oOoOo
Neither watching nor caring where he was headed, Bluestreak dashed through the hall, wanting nothing more than to find Jazz or Prowl. He needed to talk to someone about Sunstreaker's attitude, about the whole mess, about why he felt such strange emotions, and about what he should do next. Caught in those thoughts, he wasn't surprised to round the corner and smack right into another mech. He always tended to do that when he wasn't paying enough attention.
"Sorry," Bluestreak mumbled before looking up to see who he'd nearly plowed down.
Wheeljack had one hand on the wall, as though steadying his balance. "Whoa, Blue! Careful. We practically ended up swapping paint there."
"Sorry," Bluestreak repeated, staring at the ground. His emotional programming seemed to be going haywire. First he was irritated, then enraged, and now he felt like crying.
A grey hand clasped his elbow. "Hey, I came to see what all the yelling was about. I couldn't make out what you were saying, but I could hear your voice all the way in my lab."
Bluestreak cringed. "Oh." He brought one hand up to his forehead, hoping to hide the tears of coolant pooling in his optics as his processor tried to overheat. "I didn't realize I was being quite that loud and I'm sorry I interrupted your concentration but you shouldn't worry about it and I don't want to distract you from your work."
"No problem." Wheeljack tugged on his arm, pulling him down the hallway toward his lab. "But you wanna tell me what that was all about?"
Bluestreak tried his best to hold in the words as Wheeljack ushered him into the lab, but he lacked the capacity to restrain his vocalizer. Feeling patently stupid and childish, he released his emotions in a rush. "Sunny said I was ugly!" He clenched his fists and felt tears running down his cheeks. "He said the sparkling should be a Lamborghini so she can be beautiful."
A soft chuckle met this announcement. "You are not ugly," Wheeljack said. "Sunny's just vain. If he really thought you were ugly, he wouldn't date you."
Bluestreak shook his head. "But-but-but he has no concept of what's important in life and it's an insult to me too and why doesn't he see that what really matters are things like family and ending this war and rebuilding Cybertron to the peaceful world it used to be? Why is everything about appearance and superficial stuff with him and how can he say things like that about me when I would sacrifice anything for him if he just believed in me or in us? I swear I care and I care and I care and I have nothing to show for it!" Unable to control himself, he began sobbing.
Strong arms pulled Bluestreak into an embrace. "I know." Wheeljack held him close. "I've been watching you a long time: you think and act based on what's in your spark, and you hate conflict and violence. You want to help others, and you have great empathy for their suffering. But because of that, this war and all its death sicken you, and the gung-ho types like Brawn and Sunny misunderstand you or look down on you."
"It's stupid." Bluestreak cried against his chest, his doorwings vibrating with the violent emotions. "How are we supposed to rebuild our world when all we're surrounded by is senseless violence and how can we claim we protect life if we kill each other all the time? And if I hate that why does that make me a freak or too soft or someone to be made fun of?"
A warm hand rubbed his back between his doorwings. "I don't think you're odd or weak," Wheeljack said. "I believe we need mechs who will dream up and work toward a better future. Don't let go of that idealism." He paused. "Now slowly pull air through your intakes. You need to calm down. Your Gestation Protection program has thrown your emotional subroutines off kilter."
Bluestreak tucked his face into Wheeljack's shoulder, hugging his waist tightly. A clash of emotions warred within him: anger, embarrassment, sadness, horror, and also comfort. "S-s-sorry. I feel so strange." His mortification was beginning to win. "And here I am crying all over you!"
Another quiet chuckle. "I've seen far weirder reactions from carriers, I promise." The warm hand patted his back, then continued to rub between his doorwings, soothing him.
"Weirder than spontaneous tears?" Bluestreak asked, slowly relaxing. Wheeljack's care and understanding seemed almost tangible they were so warm. "Weirder than the inexplicable urge to behead your bondmate or lover?"
Wheeljack laughed. "Oh, much stranger than that! Although the beheading part is pretty standard for carriers at the end of the gestation period."
Bluestreak pulled his head away from Wheeljack's chest and met his gaze. "Oh. If you say so." He watched the engineer for a klik, noting the obvious amusement in his optics and the way his vocal indicators flashed brightly when he laughed again. The mask hid what was likely a smile, and Bluestreak found his presence calming.
"You'll be fine, I promise," Wheeljack said, reaching up with one hand and wiping the coolant off his cheeks. "You just need to remember that the GP program intensifies all your emotions, but like I said the other orn, it makes you especially prone to anger and irritability. You watch out for that, okay?" His tone turned teasing. "Beheadings aren't a good thing, especially for 'bots who don't like to fight."
Bluestreak stared at him in awe, struck by Wheeljack's affection. Someone other than Prowl, Jazz, and Optimus Prime cares about me? he thought, stunned by the prospect. A moment later he realized he'd not thought to include Sunstreaker and felt a pulse of concern over his omission. "Yes sir."
Wheeljack released him and patted his arm. "Good. So should I work up a Lamborghini model and a Datsun model both?"
"No." Bluestreak frowned. "I told Sunny she would have a Fairlady Z alt mode and he actually didn't argue with me so just draw up that design spec."
"All right, then. I'll go back to work." Wheeljack headed for his computer terminal. "I have a ton of new design ideas I've been dying to try out for vorns."
"Sounds good. Thanks 'Jack." Bluestreak smiled at him, realizing he was glad to have run into him. A new friend? he asked himself as he left. I sure hope so because I need as many as possible right now, and Wheeljack's always so laid back.
In an oddly good mood for someone who'd just been crying, Bluestreak headed for his post early.
oOoOo
Several nanokliks passed before Wheeljack realized someone was standing in his lab's doorway. He forcefully extracted his attention from the sparkling's protoform design and glanced at his visitor. "Your creators certainly named you well, Prowl."
The tactician silently watched him, his grey face impassive, his arms crossed over his chest. Still, a faint twitch in the black and white doorwings told Wheeljack all he needed to know. Prowl was worried about something.
"Come in and shut the door," he said, waving Prowl in. "I've been working nonstop on this protoform for nearly twelve joors. As much as I love tackling new designs, I could use a break."
Prowl entered, the door hissing shut behind him. "Thank you for being so upbeat around Bluestreak. I know it can't be easy for you, but Jazz told me that Bluestreak's been excited about the sparkling's design since talking to you this morning."
For a moment, Wheeljack considered ignoring the implication behind Prowl's words, but he knew it'd never work. "Hey, I always knew I didn't have a chance with Blue, even before he started dating Sunny. Besides, I really do enjoy working on protoforms."
"I wish you weren't so hard-headed." Prowl leaned against the wall, his arms still crossed, and frowned. "Yes, there's an age difference between you two, but out of all the mechs in the base, you're one of the very few Jazz and I would trust to really take care of Bluestreak. And I thought my spark would extinguish when I first saw him together with Sunstreaker." He sighed. "Smokescreen, Tracks, even Sideswipe . . . anyone would have been better than Sunstreaker."
"You're not wrong," Wheeljack muttered, staring back at his computer. A silver, blue, and yellow femme body was rotating slowly on the screen, while on each side a list of specs was aligned. Even thinking about the concept of Sunstreaker and Bluestreak officially bonded made him ill, but he'd been hiding his feelings for half a vorn before the crash on Earth. In his mind, the choice to remain silent about his crush was purely pragmatic. "I'm not sure Sunny's going to hold up under the idea of being a genitor, and they got into another argument this morning. Of course, if they break up that means that Blue will end up raising the sparkling by himself, but with you and Jazz to help, I think it'd be for the best."
"And once again I say you're too stubborn." Prowl paused. "I realize it's none of my business, which is why I've never asked, but at this point I feel compelled to inquire anyway. Why have you been so resistant to the thought of asking Bluestreak out? It can't be just an age issue. There are plenty of bonded couples with far greater age differences than yours."
Wheeljack shook his head. He could list a thousand practical reasons to hide his feelings without even mentioning what concerned him most. "What about regulations? No officers with enlisted?"
"Prime ordered me to ignore that one, pending an official repealing of it."
"You're not afraid I'll accidentally blow him up?"
"I'd rather watch Ratchet repair his physical body than see him take more emotional wounds."
"I tend to work long past my shift and oftentimes because I have to. You're not afraid he'll be lonely?"
"I know you. You'll find a way. Besides, he does have Jazz and me, too."
"But there's also the issue of - "
"Stop making excuses." Prowl pushed away from the wall and walked over to him. "You once told me that it had been painful to watch Jazz and I dance around each other for so long. I finally understand what you meant."
Wheeljack sighed. "That's the problem, Prowl. You and Jazz secretly loved each other and wouldn't admit it. As curious as I get sometimes about what it would be like to date Blue, I also know that I've never been anything than just another random officer to him."
"Don't make me drag Jazz into this." Prowl leaned over him slightly. "If Bluestreak thought he could do better and he and Sunstreaker are fighting, this is the perfect opportunity."
A jolt of fear surged in Wheeljack's spark, and he jumped to his feet. "Oh, no you don't! You swore you'd never tell Jazz. Slaggit, I've never even figured out how you noticed, but I've been extra careful since. Don't you dare turn that tactical computer of yours to matchmaking, and if you unleash Jazz on me, I'll never forgive you."
Prowl held up both hands. "You know I wouldn't break my promise to you, technically, but I do have to weigh all the factors."
"That's dirty, Prowl, and not like you." Wheeljack felt angered at the implied possible betrayal. "You're actually trying my patience here."
Lowering his hands, Prowl turned his gaze upon the floor. "Sorry, Wheeljack, I just have never been good with emotional puzzles. I don't understand why you're so convinced Blue wouldn't date you when you haven't even tried, especially when I happen to know you're ready to be in a permanent bond and Bluestreak is a diehard romantic who daydreams about being spark-bound."
Wheeljack stared at the SIC for long moments, his winglets vibrating slightly with tension as his irritation battled his horror. "Since you threatened to pull in Jazz, I guess I'll have to show you."
"Show me?" Prowl glanced up. "What do you mean?" He paused. "Oh, Wheeljack, if it bothers you so much, I'll never speak of it again. I just wish Bluestreak could be with someone who - "
Wheeljack didn't allow him to finish. He triggered his blast mask open.
Prowl halted mid-sentence and stared.
Preparing himself for shock, disgust, or pity, Wheeljack gathered his nerve and spoke. "Ironic, isn't it?" He forced himself to discuss the issue clinically and hoped Prowl wouldn't glitch. "It was caused by a rare flaw that can arise in protoforms when a spark is gestated rather than infused. An infused spark can't trigger the reaction because the energy transfer comes instantly and directly from the Creation Matrix. When a spark is generated from a merging, it requires transferring the sparkling from the genitor and attaching it to the new body. That stage is where the flaw can be triggered."
Prowl stared at him a few more astroseconds, and Wheeljack feared his CPU had frozen. However, he finally spoke. "I had no idea."
Wheeljack shrugged, trying to evoke his usual carefree attitude. "Well, I began inventing things as a sparkling, but in the end, this is the real reason I went into engineering: so things like this wouldn't happen to others." He gestured toward the screen where the sparkling design still rotated. "At the Engineering Academy, I actually did my thesis on protoform defects and solutions. I wanted a fresh take on the problem, to explore every possibility, and to generate a whole new approach. Until the war started, I worked exclusively as a protoform designer and generated my other inventions solely during my spare time."
Prowl reached up and ran his hand over his chin, but Wheeljack couldn't tell if the gesture was empathetic or simply a sign of his being deep in thought. "It's unusual," Prowl said, "but hardly the most important thing about you. I see why you're uncomfortable with it, but it's only a minor part of a much larger and positive whole."
Wheeljack realized belatedly that Prowl was the last 'bot in the universe who would react emotionally to his appearance. He relaxed faintly, knowing he wouldn't have to face the inevitable horror or revulsion. Out of all those who'd seen his face, the only other one to not be repelled was Ratchet.
"You underestimate yourself. More than that, you underestimate Bluestreak," Prowl said, turning toward the door. He paused as the door hissed open, then glanced back. "If this were an engineering issue and I told you that you couldn't solve the problem, you wouldn't rest until you did. No one can ever tell you that you can't fix something, so why are you giving up so easily now?"
Triggering his mask closed again, Wheeljack stared at the door after it cycled shut. "I wish I could believe you and accept your challenge," he replied even though Prowl was no longer present. "But a lifetime's of experience tells me otherwise. This seems to be the one problem I can't create a solution for."
oOoOo
When his shift ended, Bluestreak headed toward the rec room, having determined that Sunstreaker was there, with the intention of having a long talk with his lover. Ratchet had grabbed him earlier and explained more about the Gestation Protection program and the entire gestation process, leaving Bluestreak feeling reassured and focused by all the extra knowledge. Also, Jazz had cheered him up during his lunch break. Feeling equipped sit down with Sunstreaker had have a serious discussion without arguing, Bluestreak was now determined to apologize if necessary and broach the subject of Sunstreaker's and his future together now that they would be genitors.
The rec room doors parted as Bluestreak approached, but to his surprise, a red blur exited and nearly crashed into him. He yelped and threw up his hands to ward off an accident.
Sideswipe halted abruptly, grabbing Bluestreak's elbows and steadying them both. "Blue! Oh! Er, I'm sorry. Sunny's in a bad mood, and I got slagged off, too, so I was in a hurry to leave so I wouldn't end up in the brig for bashing in my own brother's head, and I really suggest you don't approach him right now because he's been in a foul mood since Ratchet released him from medbay."
Bluestreak realized suddenly how his running dialogue sounded to other mechs, but he didn't waste time analyzing it. He was more concerned about what had made Sideswipe so upset. "Sides? What did Sunny do?"
Glancing away, Sideswipe stared at a point on the wall. "Oh, you know Sunny and his moods. Once he loses his temper, he doesn't care who he hurts."
Unable to tell if it was the Gestation Protection program or not, Bluestreak felt a sense of impending doom. "What are you not telling me?"
Sideswipe started faintly, apparently taken aback by Bluestreak's tone. "Look, let's just leave it alone for now, okay? We can go back to my room and play some video games or something while we wait for Sunny to get over himself."
"Sides." Bluestreak felt his patience shredding.
Prowl turned the corner and approached them. "Is there a problem?"
Sideswipe looked like he'd just been caught stealing classified data from Prime's office. "Oh, er, no, sir. I was just - "
Prowl walked up to Sideswipe's shoulder and frowned. "You never get this twitchy unless - "
The rec room's doors, registering Prowl's proximity, hissed open. Sideswipe grew deathly still, and Bluestreak and Prowl glanced past him into the room. There, right on the couch, Sunstreaker and Smokescreen were openly flirting, touching each others' arms or legs as they talked and laughed.
"Isn't Smokescreen dating you?" Bluestreak asked, feeling a deep, slow burn in his tanks. He couldn't seem to move his gaze from the flirts.
"I . . . yes. He was." Sideswipe still hadn't released his arms and in fact tightened his grip. "Blue . . ."
Prowl made a noise almost like a growl. "I knew it!"
Bluestreak felt the burn creep through his circuits and systems, lighting his entire body aflame. With sudden clarity he realized that the Gestation Protection program was indeed intensifying his wrath, but he found he couldn't control the sweeping rage when he already had a reason to be angry. His entire body quivered from the impact of his emotions, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of hatred, and his stare never left Sunstreaker.
"Blue?" Sideswipe sounded worried.
For once speaking slowly and clearly, Bluestreak decided to be blunt. "You have three astroseconds to stop me from killing them both." Then he released the Pit on Earth.