When Wise Mechs are Banished -- Bumblebee
Title: When Wise Mechs are Banished -- Bumblebee
Word Count: 1549
Summary: Prequel to Where Wise Mechs Fear to Tread. How and why Bumblebee came to base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E.
Rating: T
BUMBLEBEE
Bumblebee was often underestimated. His carefree nature and small stature led people to believe he was nothing more than a youngling playing at war. The truth was far from that, though. The yellow minibot was often thought to be the youngest mech on the base. The truth? He was most likely the oldest, or as least very close to it.
Bumblebee was a spy. A damn good one. Had been long before the war. But his last mission had been in progress when the war had started, and most of his superiors had either died or gone to the Decepticons. He couldn't reveal his identity lest he risk associating himself with the likes of them. Or rather, one in particular: Shockwave. The purple mech had been the captain of the Tarnian Special Operations Task Division of the Tarnian Enforcers. Bumblebee had been one of his best operatives.
That last mission had been to ferret out a gang of energon smugglers. Tarn had fallen while he had been out of the city, tracking a trader. Having always been of a more Autobot mindset, the spy had signed up without ever going back. He hadn't even removed his disguise.
That was Bumblebee's greatest secret: he wasn't even a minibot. His frame had been reformatted to suit the mission, then repainted before he joined up with the Autobots. He had once been just an average mech.
Not that he was anymore. He was stuck in this frame - he actually quite enjoyed it. But even if he hadn't, the medic who had originally reformatted him was dead. And anyways, it was easier to simply keep the identity he had forged for the case than remake a new one. He definitely couldn't use his original name and frame. That was still associated with Tarn and Shockwave.
So Bumblebee he was, and Bumblebee he was going to stay. Minibot, Autobot, and spy.
The yellow minibot had also known that Shockwave was aware of his miniaturized nature, and so had requested an assignment on a far base - which was why he was at Moon Base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E.
As far as Bumblebee was able to figure, he was one of the few, if not the only, who had actually wanted to come here. If anyone asked why he had been sent, he would smile ruefully and say, “It's a long story,” and leave it at that. Not many pressed further.
The fact that he had chosen to come, though, had a few benefits. For one, he had known what he was getting into (even though he had come way back when it had only been minibots and Dinobots on base).
He had been there from the beginning. He watched as it changed. He watched as the mechs stationed there became more of a family than simple teammates. He watched relationships grow and flourish. He watched as more and more mechs were sent to this out of the way moon base - Red Alert and Inferno, then Hoist and Grapple, a couple more minibots, Prowl, Ratchet, Jazz, Wheeljack... They all came, and Bumblebee watched them all.
He was a spy, after all. Spies watched, observed, learned. They acted like average mechs, but were anything but.
It took less than two groons after his arrival for Jazz to figure him out, though. A testament to the abilities of the saboteur, especially considering the fact that the first groon he had been on the moon, he had been practically unresponsive and very AI-ish.
“Ah know wha'cha are, Bee,” he had said cheerily as he sat down next to the minibot in the commissary one orn, as though he were commenting on the weather, or Grimlock's latest statement that “him Grimlock king.”
Bumblebee just looked at the silver mech, a small smile on his face. “Yeah? What do you know?” he asked, completely relaxed and at ease.
The saboteur smiled back, lifting his energon in a silent toast. “Ya're a spy, my mech. A good one. Had a hard time seein' 't, myself. How'd ya end up out here?”
The yellow minibot's smile faltered. For less than a klik, it became worried, before returning to its genuine warmth. “What gives you that idea?”
Jazz shrugged. “Ah jus' know. Trait o' a good saboteur, y'know? Knowin' when another's 'round. Helps keep th' spark pulsin'.”
“Yes, it does,” Bumblebee murmured in agreement, glancing around. His wariness was for naught, though. No one was paying the two any attention. Both Jazz and the secret spy were among the more friendly mechs stationed there, and it was not odd to see them conversing together.
“Yup.” There was silence for a moment, before Jazz grinned and lifted his energon again. “Well, Bee, Ah trust ya. If ya don' wanna talk, Ah won' make ya, 's long's ya don' prove t' be a threat. If ya ever do wanna talk, Ah've got some'a th' best audials 'round, and one'a th' quietest vocalizers, 'spite o' what some'd tell ya.”
“I know. I pulled your file. You were one of the best.”
“Still am, Bee Bot. Jus' got lost fer a little while.”
The minibot cocked his helm to the side. “Prowl really means something to you, doesn't he?”
Jazz's grin widened. “What, my firs' groon here didn' give 't 'way?” His visor flashed in a wink as he stood. A nod was sent in Bumblebee's direction, and the saboteur left the Rec Room.
The yellow minibot watched him go, a slight smile on his face. He had never doubted his decision in coming here. But perhaps it had never really been his decision, he mused. Perhaps it had been a Primus-sent occurrence. Never had Bumblebee had someone he could trust, yet his spark was screaming at him that Jazz was someone he could tell everything to, then never have to worry about it being repeated, or about being judged or hated or pushed away.
He felt that way about almost everyone here, now that he thought about it. His “group,” the minibots, stuck together. No matter the chances, they would stick up for each other. That had been proven to Bumblebee when Grimlock and Huffer had gotten into an argument. It had led to blows, and the giant t-rex had found himself falling under a swarm of minibots.
Or Prowl. Ever since he had come, he had been nothing but supportive of everyone. In the one Decepticon attack, Prowl had directed everyone with a firm, calm voice and easy to follow orders, and had won the battle in a matter of breems. He had won over those not already convinced that orn.
Ratchet, the harsh medic. He had demanded respect immediately upon his arrival. Many thought that respect had to be earned, and so tested the medic - who proved to be worthy of that respect. Anyone who still doubted him learned to at least respect his wrench and throwing arm.
Jazz, after he came and recovered, quickly became the link between the commanders and the troops, though compared to most bases, there was very little space between them. Jazz became the spark of the party almost immediately. He was loud, and fun, and always nice. Nobody hated him, even if not everybody liked him. Friend to all, he was, and he was content with that. He quickly gained the soldiers' trust and companionship.
Wheeljack... Wheeljack was Wheeljack, plain and simple. The loveable, explode-able engineer. The regular explosions at least brought a bit of entertainment to the base on an ornly basis. He was kind to everyone, and as long as you were careful about what he had in his hands when you approached him, he could be quite good company.
And the others - the mechs who had been here for longer. Red Alert, who, despite his many false alarms and all-around paranoia, was genuinely concerned for everyone's safety. Inferno, the cheerful Security Enforcer, Red Alert's lover (though it was debated as to whether they were bondmates or not). Always open for a chat, though he was to be watched closely when there was a fire nearby. Hoist and Grapple, who had been sent out here long ago to fix the base up and make it suitably sized for more average sized mechs, and had never been called back.
Everyone here... they were all close, all family, now. And Bumblebee was one of them.
It was an odd feeling, he realized. Before the war, as a spy, his only relationships had been with people he didn't trust, whether they be his fellow agents or his contacts or even his targets.
Smiling, the little yellow bot stood up and headed for the door. “Hey, Jazz!” he called, and he could see the silver saboteur at the end of the hallway stop and turn around, a wide grin on his face.
Bumblebee ran up to the unofficial Second in Command of the base. “Yeah, Bee?”
“I... Wanna know how I got here?”
“Sure would, Bee Bot. Lead th' way.”
With a grin, Bumblebee started walking, Jazz, one of his family, at his side. “It all started a long time ago, before the war, when I lived in Tarn...”
Word Count: 1549
Summary: Prequel to Where Wise Mechs Fear to Tread. How and why Bumblebee came to base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E.
Rating: T
BUMBLEBEE
Bumblebee was often underestimated. His carefree nature and small stature led people to believe he was nothing more than a youngling playing at war. The truth was far from that, though. The yellow minibot was often thought to be the youngest mech on the base. The truth? He was most likely the oldest, or as least very close to it.
Bumblebee was a spy. A damn good one. Had been long before the war. But his last mission had been in progress when the war had started, and most of his superiors had either died or gone to the Decepticons. He couldn't reveal his identity lest he risk associating himself with the likes of them. Or rather, one in particular: Shockwave. The purple mech had been the captain of the Tarnian Special Operations Task Division of the Tarnian Enforcers. Bumblebee had been one of his best operatives.
That last mission had been to ferret out a gang of energon smugglers. Tarn had fallen while he had been out of the city, tracking a trader. Having always been of a more Autobot mindset, the spy had signed up without ever going back. He hadn't even removed his disguise.
That was Bumblebee's greatest secret: he wasn't even a minibot. His frame had been reformatted to suit the mission, then repainted before he joined up with the Autobots. He had once been just an average mech.
Not that he was anymore. He was stuck in this frame - he actually quite enjoyed it. But even if he hadn't, the medic who had originally reformatted him was dead. And anyways, it was easier to simply keep the identity he had forged for the case than remake a new one. He definitely couldn't use his original name and frame. That was still associated with Tarn and Shockwave.
So Bumblebee he was, and Bumblebee he was going to stay. Minibot, Autobot, and spy.
The yellow minibot had also known that Shockwave was aware of his miniaturized nature, and so had requested an assignment on a far base - which was why he was at Moon Base 84G1-07MVE-VR5E.
As far as Bumblebee was able to figure, he was one of the few, if not the only, who had actually wanted to come here. If anyone asked why he had been sent, he would smile ruefully and say, “It's a long story,” and leave it at that. Not many pressed further.
The fact that he had chosen to come, though, had a few benefits. For one, he had known what he was getting into (even though he had come way back when it had only been minibots and Dinobots on base).
He had been there from the beginning. He watched as it changed. He watched as the mechs stationed there became more of a family than simple teammates. He watched relationships grow and flourish. He watched as more and more mechs were sent to this out of the way moon base - Red Alert and Inferno, then Hoist and Grapple, a couple more minibots, Prowl, Ratchet, Jazz, Wheeljack... They all came, and Bumblebee watched them all.
He was a spy, after all. Spies watched, observed, learned. They acted like average mechs, but were anything but.
It took less than two groons after his arrival for Jazz to figure him out, though. A testament to the abilities of the saboteur, especially considering the fact that the first groon he had been on the moon, he had been practically unresponsive and very AI-ish.
“Ah know wha'cha are, Bee,” he had said cheerily as he sat down next to the minibot in the commissary one orn, as though he were commenting on the weather, or Grimlock's latest statement that “him Grimlock king.”
Bumblebee just looked at the silver mech, a small smile on his face. “Yeah? What do you know?” he asked, completely relaxed and at ease.
The saboteur smiled back, lifting his energon in a silent toast. “Ya're a spy, my mech. A good one. Had a hard time seein' 't, myself. How'd ya end up out here?”
The yellow minibot's smile faltered. For less than a klik, it became worried, before returning to its genuine warmth. “What gives you that idea?”
Jazz shrugged. “Ah jus' know. Trait o' a good saboteur, y'know? Knowin' when another's 'round. Helps keep th' spark pulsin'.”
“Yes, it does,” Bumblebee murmured in agreement, glancing around. His wariness was for naught, though. No one was paying the two any attention. Both Jazz and the secret spy were among the more friendly mechs stationed there, and it was not odd to see them conversing together.
“Yup.” There was silence for a moment, before Jazz grinned and lifted his energon again. “Well, Bee, Ah trust ya. If ya don' wanna talk, Ah won' make ya, 's long's ya don' prove t' be a threat. If ya ever do wanna talk, Ah've got some'a th' best audials 'round, and one'a th' quietest vocalizers, 'spite o' what some'd tell ya.”
“I know. I pulled your file. You were one of the best.”
“Still am, Bee Bot. Jus' got lost fer a little while.”
The minibot cocked his helm to the side. “Prowl really means something to you, doesn't he?”
Jazz's grin widened. “What, my firs' groon here didn' give 't 'way?” His visor flashed in a wink as he stood. A nod was sent in Bumblebee's direction, and the saboteur left the Rec Room.
The yellow minibot watched him go, a slight smile on his face. He had never doubted his decision in coming here. But perhaps it had never really been his decision, he mused. Perhaps it had been a Primus-sent occurrence. Never had Bumblebee had someone he could trust, yet his spark was screaming at him that Jazz was someone he could tell everything to, then never have to worry about it being repeated, or about being judged or hated or pushed away.
He felt that way about almost everyone here, now that he thought about it. His “group,” the minibots, stuck together. No matter the chances, they would stick up for each other. That had been proven to Bumblebee when Grimlock and Huffer had gotten into an argument. It had led to blows, and the giant t-rex had found himself falling under a swarm of minibots.
Or Prowl. Ever since he had come, he had been nothing but supportive of everyone. In the one Decepticon attack, Prowl had directed everyone with a firm, calm voice and easy to follow orders, and had won the battle in a matter of breems. He had won over those not already convinced that orn.
Ratchet, the harsh medic. He had demanded respect immediately upon his arrival. Many thought that respect had to be earned, and so tested the medic - who proved to be worthy of that respect. Anyone who still doubted him learned to at least respect his wrench and throwing arm.
Jazz, after he came and recovered, quickly became the link between the commanders and the troops, though compared to most bases, there was very little space between them. Jazz became the spark of the party almost immediately. He was loud, and fun, and always nice. Nobody hated him, even if not everybody liked him. Friend to all, he was, and he was content with that. He quickly gained the soldiers' trust and companionship.
Wheeljack... Wheeljack was Wheeljack, plain and simple. The loveable, explode-able engineer. The regular explosions at least brought a bit of entertainment to the base on an ornly basis. He was kind to everyone, and as long as you were careful about what he had in his hands when you approached him, he could be quite good company.
And the others - the mechs who had been here for longer. Red Alert, who, despite his many false alarms and all-around paranoia, was genuinely concerned for everyone's safety. Inferno, the cheerful Security Enforcer, Red Alert's lover (though it was debated as to whether they were bondmates or not). Always open for a chat, though he was to be watched closely when there was a fire nearby. Hoist and Grapple, who had been sent out here long ago to fix the base up and make it suitably sized for more average sized mechs, and had never been called back.
Everyone here... they were all close, all family, now. And Bumblebee was one of them.
It was an odd feeling, he realized. Before the war, as a spy, his only relationships had been with people he didn't trust, whether they be his fellow agents or his contacts or even his targets.
Smiling, the little yellow bot stood up and headed for the door. “Hey, Jazz!” he called, and he could see the silver saboteur at the end of the hallway stop and turn around, a wide grin on his face.
Bumblebee ran up to the unofficial Second in Command of the base. “Yeah, Bee?”
“I... Wanna know how I got here?”
“Sure would, Bee Bot. Lead th' way.”
With a grin, Bumblebee started walking, Jazz, one of his family, at his side. “It all started a long time ago, before the war, when I lived in Tarn...”