What if Strongarm and Wildbreak were sent to a parallel Universe that was running quite a bit behind them time-wise.
The war is still going, cliffjumper has died but Breakdown is still alive and well. In fact, while trying to find a way home they run into him and Wildbreak gets to meet his other caretaker for the first time.
Hey! :)
Do you realize the chaos you’re about to unleash? I’m not mad, I just wanna know. 😂
Now, this situation is delicate for a number of reasons. Allow me to explain:
Wildbreak would 100% want to meet his second caregiver, but we must keep context in mind. At the time of the war, Breakdown and Knockout are Decepticons—maybe not the most loyal, but they’re bad news. We see Knockout eventually become a turncoat, but that takes a very long time and the death of his conjunx to make it happen.
Strongarm’s parents aren’t exactly on the best of terms. How exactly would you take it if some kid showed up and claimed to be the child of you and your biggest rival? Yeah, we need a paternity test on this one-
If we’re going “alternate universe” and not some wacky time-travel hijinks, we must be totally aware that these aren’t Wildbreak and Strongarm’s actual families and that what they do will here not impact their homes. It’s less of a “Back to the Future” situation and more of an “Avengers: Endgame” scenario. Even if they manage to save Cliffjumper and Breakdown, it does not resurrect the ones they lost. It just gives their future alternates a chance at vastly different lives.
We got that? Okay, then.
…
…
…
It was just meant to be a quick hop over to the alternate universe.
Strongarm wanted to visit her siblings on her rare day off (mandated and enforced by her superior officers), and Wildbreak wanted to try and prevent any unnecessary chaos by ensuring that the heavily modified space-bridge was functioning as it was supposed to.
Unfortunately, chaos found them—as it usually did. There was a short in the system just as Strongarm was stepping through, and Wildbreak didn’t even hesitate to run after the best friend he had in any universe.
Following a bright flash and a tumble from far too high in the air, the two young ‘bots landed face-first in sand. And when Wildbreak sat up, he had just one thing to say:
"What the frag, Armi?"
"Ugh.” Strongarm sat up as well, shaking dust off of her head and shoulders. “Okay, that did not go as planned."
"Oh, you think?” Wildbreak asked flatly, then he looked up and blinked. “Whoa.” He staggered to his feet. “Earth?"
“Looks like it.” Strongarm stood up as well, stretching her back before looking at Wildbreak with a sigh. “Whichever one it is, we’ll be fine. I'll just call ‘Jackie, and he'll come get us.” She raised a servo to her comm, bracing herself. “Hey, ‘Jackie? I screwed up.” She blinked. “‘Jackie?” She glanced at Wildbreak worriedly. “No signal."
“That's odd.” Wildbreak frowned. “Let me try my caregiver.” He raised a digit to his comm, his brow furrowing. “Knockout? We need a bridge.” Wildbreak glanced at Strongarm, frowning. “No answer. Our comms must be busted."
"Just ran a diagnostic.” Strongarm glanced up from a monitor in her arm. “I'm fine."
Wildbreak ran a diagnostic on his own systems, and he blinked again in surprise. "Me, too. Huh.” He looked at Strongarm worriedly. “Jammed?"
*Maybe.” Strongarm shook her head. “I don’t wanna stick around long enough to find out. Assuming it’s our Earth, we can make a break for my base. Lieutenant Bumblebee can help us. If it’s the other Earth, we head for Detroit.”
Wildbreak raised an optic-brow. "Either way, our family tears you a new one for Wrecker behavior.”
"Hey, I’m not the one who ran straight into a malfunctioning space-bridge,” Strongarm argued, but she was smiling. “Thanks, by the way.”
Wildbreak blinked, then he crossed his arms. “Well, life would be far too boring without you.”
Strongarm snorted and gently nudged his shoulder, and the young medic smiled.
…
They didn’t get far.
Just a few miles down the road, Strongarm and Wildbreak’s chatter had to go silent as a red muscle car pulled off onto their stretch of highway and started driving with them.
Whoever that driver was, he was loud and chattering with someone nonstop.
When the driver passed Wildbreak and wound up behind Strongarm, the anxious cadet checked her rear-view mirrors before quickly making a call.
“Wildbreak.”
:Yeah?:
“I need you to stay calm.”
:What’s wrong?:
“Our company has no driver.”
:What?:
“Stay calm. I don't think he's noticed, yet.”
"Oh, I've noticed."
"Ah!” Both of the young ‘bots jumped so badly that they wound up in their biped modes at the side of the road, their optics wide and their frames covered in sand.
The strange car pulled over and transformed, and a crimson ‘bot with silver horns chuckled as he rested his servos on his hips. “Nice try, kids. Your disguises are hardly subtle."
“Mmhm.” Strongarm nodded shakily.
Meanwhile, Wildbreak raised an optic-brow. “And you’re the picture of subtlety?”
“What the-?” The red mech glanced at Wildbreak, visibly surprised, then he looked between the two youths. “Okay... I'm guessing there's a story here."
"Uh, kinda?” Wildbreak stood and held a servo out, helping Strongarm to her feet. That seemed to make the other ‘bot relax. “An Autobot?"
The stranger nodded. “That's right. I see your friend’s emblem, but… I gotta say, kiddo, I’m having a hard time placing you.”
“Unaligned,” Wildbreak replied calmly, squeezing Strongarm’s servo for support. “My caregiver was a Decepticon who changed sides—and honestly, I don’t see the point in choosing. I’m a medic.”
“Huh.” The stranger smiled and nodded. “A medic? Not bad, kid.”
“Trained by the best,” Strongarm assured him, then she stood up straighter. “Cadet Strongarm of the Elite Guard. This is Dr. Wildbreak."
"Impressive,” the stranger admitted. “You both seem a little young for that, though."
His face fell, like the thought made him sad.
“Our caregivers trained us well,” Strongarm stated. “Then and the rest of our family.”
"And where are they?'
"We don't know,” Wildbreak replied. “We got here by accident—and now, our comms aren't reaching them. We figured that our best bet is making our way to our base."
"Base?” The stranger’s optics widened. “Is it here, on Earth?"
Strongarm nodded. “Just outside of Crown City."
"Frag.” The stranger seemed overwhelmed, and he raised a digit to his comm. “Uh, Arcee? Don't hate me."
Strongarm’s face lit up. "Arcee?"
"You know the name?" The stranger asked her, surprised.
"Uh, duh! She's the best!” Strongarm insisted, dropping all formality. “And -like- my hero, just like my parents. And my grandpa. And my uncles. And my brothers. And my sisters.” She sighed. “I have lots of heroes, okay?"
"Heh.” That seemed to please the stranger, and he focused on his call. “Listen, I've found some kids—like, Cybertronian kids. Might be around Bee's age, actually. They say there's another Autobot base, here on Earth. I'm thinking we should bring Prime in."
“Oh, thank goodness.” Strongarm looked at Wildbreak, relieved. “Optimus can sort this out."
“Hopefully.” Wildbreak felt uneasy. This person knew Arcee and Bee, and mistook them for Bumblebee’s age? Something felt wrong, but he tried to remain optimistic. “… He'll probably sentence us both to volunteer hours in the archives, though."
“Yeah, probably.”
…
When the portal opened members of their family spilled out, Strongarm thought it was all over.
Wildbreak was not so certain.
Where were their caregivers?
“Optimus.” Strongarm’s shoulders sagged in relief. “It’s great to see you.”
"Sir.” Wildbreak nodded politely in greeting, then he smiled. “You would not believe our day." He gestured. “Her fault.”
Strongarm shot a look at him. “Hey!”
“Just covering my bases, Armi,” Wildbreak said jokingly, folding his servos behind his back and rocking in place while Strongarm crossed her arms and deadpanned.
Optimus watched the two banter with a forlorn expression. "They are young.” The crimson, horned mech nodded, and the Prime stepped forward. “My name is Optimus Prime.” Strongarm and Wildbreak looked up at him, surprised, and the large mech gestured to his company. “These are the members of my team: Bulkhead, Arcee, Bumblebee, and Ratchet. You've already met-“
Strongarm raised an optic-brow. “What's with the formality, if I may ask?” She huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know—that's weird, coming from me. But we all know each other.” She glanced at the crimson mech and shrugged. “Except for you."
The Autobot standing behind the two kids smiled. "It’s Cliffjumper, kiddo.”
"… No, really,” Wildbreak said after a silent beat while his best friend’s optics narrowed, the young medic suddenly very tense. He was eyeing their companion’s horns, a sinking feeling growing in his tank. “Who are you?"
"Uh, Cliffjumper,” the crimson mech reiterated.
Strongarm turned on her heel to glare at him. "Don't you dare.” She gestured towards Arcee with her head. “Especially not in front of her."
"Whoa, hey!" ‘Cliffjumper’ held his servos up in surrender, his optics wide at this turn, and Arcee immediately raised her cannons.
This went unnoticed by Strongarm, but Wildbreak quickly stepped between his friend and the red mech—holding his servos up as well. "Easy, Armi.”
"No.” Strongarm’s winglets twitched in agitation, her fists clenched at her sides. “Wildbreak, this is sick! You know that just as well as I do!”
Wildbreak cringed. “Armi, I think-“
“Cliffjumper's been dead for over a million years!” Strongarm snapped. “He died right here on Earth, just a few years before the war ended—the last permanent Autobot casualty." She turned her glare back onto the offending Autobot. “So, who the frag are you—and how dare you?”
The crimson mech’s face had dropped. “… What?" Arcee’s optics were wide, and her cannons dipped as she stared at the scene. “I don’t-“
“Everyone knows the story,” Wildbreak said quietly, still making himself a barrier between Strongarm and her target. “He and Arcee were out on patrol, separated but keeping tabs on each other and making small talk. Something about an encounter with human police, and a ticket?”
“A boot,” Strongarm corrected him.
Wildbreak nodded shakily. “Yeah. But then, he came across this huge Energon supply. The Nemesis found it, too—and they blew it up and captured him, then Starscream killed him. Claws to the chest, severing vital fuel-lines—gone in moments.” Behind Wildbreak, the crimson mech was staring down at him before he looked up at Arcee in shock. “Then, Megatron mutilated his body and brought him back as a Terror-‘Con, using Dark Energon that he discovered in his travels. The zombie attacked Arcee, made her sick because of the Dark Energon exposure.” Wildbreak glanced back at ‘Cliffjumper’, his expression grim. His raised, clawed servos had started to shake. “… I can hardly think of a worse fate, especially for someone so kind.”
“The point is he’s very, very dead,” Strongarm cut in again, still furious. “And she still misses him, after all this time. His voice.” She huffed out a bit treed laugh, glancing at the ground. “What's that thing she always says?"
Wildbreak looked ready to be sick. “Quite the conversationalist, right?"
"Yeah, that's it.” Strongarm looked up and glared at ‘Cliffjumper’ again. “So, don't you dare.” The crimson mech just stared at her. “What? What's the look?"
"How did you know that?" Arcee asked.
Strongarm glanced at her, surprised. "What?"
"That's an inside joke between Cliff and me,” Arcee stated, stepping forward as her optics narrowed.
“Yeah.” Strongarm nodded, turning to face the elder Autobot. “You told us when you were talking about him.” The young Guard grew confused. “Arcee, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?” She looked around at the other Autobots, and her face dropped as her optics widened. “Wh-Why are all of you looking at me like that?"
"It's a lot better than how they're looking at me,” Wildbreak admitted as he looked forward and saw how Ratchet was eying him. Cliffjumper noticed the discomfort and blinked, then frowned as he stepped forward in an almost-protective gesture. “Hey, Armi-“
"What's going on?" Strongarm demanded, her winglets flaring.
"That's what we'd like to know,” Bulkhead insisted, then he raised a servo as Strongarm glanced at him with wild optics. “Easy, kid.”
"Uncle Bulk, stop it,” the young Guard pleaded, stepping back. “This isn't funny!"
The green mech blinked. "Uncle-?"
Optimus held a servo up, gazing down at Strongarm with an unreadable expression. “You spoke of an end to the war.”
“Yeah, Optimus.” She looked up at him, visibly shaken. “Y-You taught me my history, back at lacon. The war ended just about three years after Cliffjumper died.”
"lacon?”
“Yeah, where else?” Strongarm asked. “It’s where you work, where both of us were raised. Optimus, what’s happening?”
“Both of you?” Ratchet questioned her, still eyeing Wildbreak skeptically.
“Dr. Ratchet?” The young medic tried warily. “I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen you… quite so angry… at me.” He swallowed thickly, stepping back, and ‘Cliffjumper’ lowered an arm to shield him. “Armi, I think-“
“Optimus, you're scaring me,” Strongarm said, her vents shaking a bit.
"I do not mean to.” The Prime kneeled to face her. “What is your name?"
"You know me,” Strongarm pressed. “Please, Optimus—you know me. Bumblebee, tell him!” She looked at the yellow and black mech, who shook his head and stepped back. “Bumblebee!"
“Armi, I don't think he does!” Wildbreak finally shouted, and Strongarm froze. “… None of them do. Not yet.” He frowned at his best friend’s back. “Don't you see what's happened?"
"… My caregivers are going to kill me,” Strongarm whispered, her optics wide.
“Well, mine might actually kill me—them and the rest of our family—so I can't say l'm feeling very sympathetic, at the moment,” Wildbreak said flatly, resting a servo on his hip. “That, and now: I really do blame you."
"Wildbreak!"
"I blame you!” Wildbreak insisted, then he gasped and ducked behind Cliffjumper as Bulkhead and Arcee’s cannons were pointed his way. Ratchet readied his blades while Bumblebee raised his fists defensively. “Oh, that's fun.”
“Hey!” Strongarm quickly snapped out of it and put herself between ‘Cliffjumper’ and her family, her optics narrowed as she provided an extra shield for the two mechs with her own body. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Everyone, remain calm,” Optimus tried quickly, holding his servos out to halt the fire from his side of the tense encounter.
Wildbreak swallowed thickly again, his optics wide as he peeked out from behind ‘Cliffjumper’. “Y'know, this is all going to be hilarious for me and horrifying for you, someday.” He glanced at Ratchet again. “Especially you, doctor. You hold onto guilt like it's going out of style.”
Ratchet blinked. “What the-?”
“Easy, folks,” ‘Cliffjumper’ insisted, holding his servos up. “I, uh… I think Bee, Bulk, and I have seen enough movies to see what this is about.” He glanced back at Wildbreak, nodding shakily. “It’s okay, kid. I gotcha, alright?” Wildbreak meekly nodded in reply, and the crimson mech gently grabbed Strongarm’s shoulder and coaxed her back—and she let him carefully guide her behind him to join her companion, shielded from harm. “Now, why don’t we all just calm down? These are kids, and they’re scared.”
“Seriously?” Arcee demanded. “Cliff: at best, they have some serious screws loose. At worst, they’re spies. Either way, they’re dangerous. Especially-” She looked at Wildbreak, who ducked behind cover again. “You can’t be buying this!”
“… Hey, kiddo?” ‘Cliffjumper’ glanced back over his shoulder. “You say that Arcee is one of your heroes, right? What’s something else she told you, something special?”
Strongarm blinked, then she frowned. “… She resisted going to Earth to join Optimus right up until you were both backed into a corner, that day when you two were captured by Starscream and taken to Shockwave. She wanted to work alone, to keep isolating herself because she blamed herself for what Airachnid did to Tailgate… but you were able to talk her out of it, and convince her to try again.” She sighed. “And from personal experience, I know that… if she lost you… she’d want to stop trying. She needs someone to be her anchor, a partner.”
Cliffjumper’s expression softened, then he looked forward and at Arcee. “… Would you have told just anyone that, ‘Cee? Even me? Even ever just said it out-loud?” The blue and pink ‘bot’s optics were huge, and she slowly lowered her cannons. “I really don’t know what’s happening. I just know that these kids are scared, and that they need us to keep our heads right now ‘cause they think that we’re people they can count on.” He gave a quick nod. “And I’d like to not have to break it to them that they can’t, if it’s all the same to you. Put the weapons away.”
“Whoa.” Strongarm and Wildbreak both blinked as Bulkhead, Arcee, and Ratchet stashed their weapons and Bumblebee lowered his fists.
Cliffjumper nodded. “Alright, then.” He looked back at the young Autobots behind him, putting on a smile. “Hey. It’s okay now, kids. It’s okay.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Wildbreak told him cautiously, raising a clawed digit. “If it’s all the same to you.”
Strongarm glanced at him worriedly, then she sighed and looked up at Cliffjumper. “I’m… sorry, for what I said.”
“Heh.” Cliffjumper smiled. “Nah. It’s nice to know ‘Cee will always have someone in her corner.” He reached up and rubbed the young ‘bot��s head affectionately. “You’re a real firecracker, kiddo.”
“Hm.” Strongarm smiled. “And I like you far better than your story.” Cliffjumper blinked, then he watched the young Guard step out to face his team. “I’ll have to ask you not to threaten my friend again.”
“He’s a Decepticon,” Ratchet argued.
Strongarm raised an optic-brow. “I’m sorry, I must have missed that. Could you please point out his emblem, for me?” The old medic blinked. “I know not everyone takes on an emblem. Taking on my emblem was a personal choice I made. But now… exactly what about him suggested that he was a Decepticon? Did he attack you? Did he declare himself as such?” She tilted her head. “Don’t tell me that you pointed your weapons at him based solely on his physical attributes as compared to mine and yours?” Wildbreak peeked out from behind Cliffjumper, his yellow optics wide. “Oh, if that was the case… Should I begin listing the many, many violations to Autobot Code that you would have made?” Ratchet, Bulkhead, Arcee, and Bumblebee just stared at her, and she crossed her arms. “Because I can, in whichever order you prefer—or you can just apologize to him, and convince me that you mean it.”
“Optimus, are you hearing this?” Ratchet asked his leader quietly.
Optimus slowly nodded. “Indeed, old friend.” He folded his servos behind his back. “And as one of the writers of the Autobot Code, I must say that she’s being entirely fair in her assessment.”
Ratchet’s jaw dropped, but Bumblebee stepped forward and nodded. |You’re right, it was wrong.| He looked at Wildbreak. |I’m sorry. I guess the war’s made me jumpy, and it’s been quiet, and… it’s been a really weird day.| Strongarm blinked, her face falling as she heard the tones that stories always told her once replaced Bumblebee’s voice. |You acted like you know me.|
“Yeah.” Strongarm nodded. “You’re probably my best friend, aside from Wildbreak. And I might be yours, aside from Smokescreen… who you haven’t met yet.” She sighed. “Oh, this is-“
“Yet?” Bulkhead asked her. “Why do you keep sayin’ that?”
“… You asked who I am.” Strongarm glanced at Optimus. “Well… I'm Strongarm, sir, and I'm a cadet with the Elite Guard—or, I guess... I will be, after l'm born... a few decades from now."
As optics widened, Wildbreak smiled awkwardly and waved his servos. "Dun-dun-duuuun~!"
"Oh, you've got to be joking,” Ratchet insisted. “Optimus-“
"She is not,” the Prime said quietly.
Ratchet scoffed. "And how do you know?"
"… I recognize her optics,” Optimus said, and his teammates blinked as the Prime smiled. “As well as her spirit. Heh… Ultra Magnus must be so very proud of you."
"Ultra Magnus?” Ratchet asked, then he looked at Strongarm skeptically before his optics widened. “By the Allspark.”
“Yeah.” Strongarm put on a nervous smile and raised her shoulders. “I’m his youngest. Believe it or not, I’ve genuinely lost count of my siblings.” Wildbreak doubled-over and wheezed loudly as Ratchet’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, that came out a bit- It’s a long story.”
Wildbreak stood up straight. “Whoo… Just wait ‘til you learn who her other caregiver-“ Strongarm darted over and clapped a servo over his mouth. “Mmph!” Wildbreak looked at her indignantly, his brow furrowed. “Mm!"
“Wildbreak, I’m already in so much trouble,” she insisted, her optics wide. “I don’t need two sets of my parents scolding me. That is actually a fate worse than the Pit.” She turned away, growing frantic. “And my brothers, them too! Oh, and Sari's going to have a field day when she learns- Ugh!” She ran a servo over her face, then she took a deep vent. “… But-... Heh.” She opened her optics and looked back at Wildbreak, smiling. “It's been so long, I can barely even-… We get to see Agent Fowler, June, Jack, Raf, and Miko again. Oh, and Professor Sumdac!” She then clapped a servo over her forehead. “No, no, no! Bad! We've got to get home!"
"Back to your own time?" Cliffjumper asked the kids curiously.
"I'm actually betting on this being an alternate universe,” Wildbreak theorized. “One running behind ours."
Strongarm shook her head. "You watch too many movies, Wybie."
"Time travel has never been proven,” Wildbreak reminded her. “Travel across the multiverse? We do it all the time."
Cliffjumper blinked. "You what?"
"Spoilers.” Wildbreak looked at him jokingly. “Lie down, you're supposed to be dead."
Strongarm sighed. "Sorry, he acts like his caregiver when he's panicking."
Bulkhead raised an optic-brow, growing curious. "And his caregivers are-?"
"Not a discussion that I will be having with you specifically until everyone's calmed down,” Wildbreak said, pointing at the large green Wrecker. “Like, tranquilized calmed down.”
Strongarm turned to her friend and offered a servo. “Pact?"
"Pact.” Wildbreak took her servo and shook it, nodding.
Strongarm tilted her head. "How much do we tell them?"
“We're right here,” Arcee tried to remind them.
"Not our universe,” Wildbreak insisted, not looking away from Strongarm. “This isn't like one of our adventures, Armi. There will be serious, life-or-death consequences if we mess up."
Strongarm just looked at him, then she looked at the other Autobots. "… We're going to have to kidnap some kids."
Wildbreak groaned. "Oh, for frag's sake-"
“After we save Cliffjumper’s life, of course,” Strongarm went on.
“Armi.” Wildbreak released her servo. “… I think we already did.” She looked at him, surprised. “The story, about the boot. That was their last talk… and they’ve already had it.”
“Which means-“ Strongarm tensed, her optics going wide. “… We have to get out of here.” She looked at the other ‘bots frantically. “We have to get out of here, right now!”
“What?” Cliffjumper asked, perplexed, then a shadow fell over them and they looked up.
“The Nemesis,” Ratchet realized, his optics wide, then he looked to his team. “Go, go, go!”
“Come on, kids!” Cliffjumper transformed and sped off, and Wildbreak and Strongarm swiftly followed his lead.
They found themselves boxed in by the other Autobots as they drove off, dodging blasts from the warship as Optimus made an urgent call.
Finally, a swirling portal opened before them—and when they passed through it, they all came to a screeching halt inside of a large, cavelike base.
Wildbreak and Strongarm transformed, their optics wide, and Strongarm’s face lit up. “Autobot Outpost Omega One. It’s still standing.”
“Prime!” A voice shouted, and the two young ‘bots looked back to see a man in a suit standing beside a monitor. “You better start talking.”
“Special Agent Fowler,” Wildbreak realized. “He’s so… young.” He blinked as Strongarm left his side. “Wait, Armi-”
“Sir.” Strongarm stood before the agent and saluted. “My name is Cadet Strongarm, of the Elite Guard. One of my fathers was Optimus Prime’s second-in-command.” She gave a small smile. “It’s an honor.”
“Okay, it’s official: that’s a stress headache.” Wildbreak groaned, putting his face in his servo. “Just wake me up, already. I wanna wake up.”
“Easy there, kid.” Bulkhead placed a servo on the young mech’s shoulder. “Ratchet’s probably got something for your head. You… get those a lot?”
Wildbreak looked up at him with a stressed smile. “Got my first one when I was twelve, the same day Armi was protoformed.”
“Huh.” Bulkhead blinked, then he chuckled. “Oh, we’re gonna get along great.”
“Yay…”
…
…
Wildbreak sat and watched with crossed arms, adding the occasional comment or more-detailed illustration as Strongarm assembled a series of charts to explain exactly what the Autobot team would be coming up against.
Her brothers would be proud.
Based on the stories they had heard as children, Strongarm laid out a timeline for the next decade and a half—starting with Cliffjumper’s death, and ending with the splitting open of the multiverse. She kept vague anything that would indicate their parentage, so she didn’t speak much of how the multiverse had opened up—Wheeljack going missing, his time away, or exactly what became of the multiverse’s opening: all they had seen, the larger family they had made. She didn’t really go far into personal details at all, just time-stamps and details as to why what occurred.
“So you see, if you just trust us on this, we’ll be able to think up a plan ages in advance to avoid the tragedy and still keep all of the good,” the young Guard wrapped up her explanation. “We could probably end the war even earlier.” She glances at Wildbreak. “And save lives on both sides.” The young medic blinked, then his optics went wide as he realized what she was implying. "So... how are you following me so far?"
"Uh, I think you lost me after the whole ‘purple crystals that make zombies and vampires' bit,” Cliffjumper admitted.
“That was in the first ten minutes,” Strongarm said, then she huffed and rested her servos on her hips. “That was three hours ago!"
Arcee raised an optic-brow. “You were timing it?”
“Ugh.” Strongarm rested her face in her servo. “Alright, Armi. Desperate times, desperate measures… You need proof that we know what we are talking about? Fine.” She looked at Arcee, smirking. “Let's wait and see. Wildbreak?"
"We need to find Jack, Miko, and Raf—which should set the timeline to rights, save the whole ‘Cliffjumper being alive’ bit,” Wildbreak began. “Since the story says we're supposed to discover the plot when his signal comes online, corrupted by Dark Energon, and that that's supposed to put Optimus and Dr. Ratchet on the trail of what Megatron is planning at the space-bridge-…” He glanced up thoughtfully, then nodded. “Alright. Cliffjumper was going to die at sunrise. It’s not sundown yet, so there’s still plenty of time.” He looked at Strongarm. “If I know that story as well as I hope I do, then Cliff was supposed to die today—and Arcee and Bumblebee were meant to find Raf and Jack in their high-speed chase -turned- scuffle. Then, tomorrow, they are supposed to add Miko to the mix—and find the zombie.” He raised a servo to his chin, perplexed. “No zombie, no confrontation in the mines. Arcee doesn't get sick, and they have no trail to follow. So, we give them the trail—to everything.” He looked at the Autobots, growing determined. “Let’s make a deal. If we can prove our story is real, then you believe us. You trust us.” He gestured to the timeline. “And you let us help.”
"Hm.” Optimus seemed uncertain.
“Our comms aren’t working right now, anyway,” Wildbreak told the skeptical team. “We’re cut off from all communications. Dr. Ratchet can even monitor us to be certain, or even lock us up.” He crossed his arms. “Just follow our lead, and then wait and see what happens."
Bumblebee shifted uneasily. |Uh, Optimus?|
"What are you proposing?" The Prime asked.
"Okay, uh...” Strongarm walked forward, pointing her index-fingers up and shaking them a bit as she worked to remember. “The story goes, Arcee leaves the funeral to drive around Jasper. Some Vehicons start to follow her, so she pulls off into the parking lot of some burger joint-”
"KO Burger,” Wildbreak recalled.
"Right.” Strongarm nodded. “And that's where she meets Jack. The Vehicons think he's with her, so she has to drive away to save them both. Bumblebee goes after her, so he's close enough to come and help. They go over the edge of a bridge, and there's Raf—and the boys escape the fight with some help from Bumblebee, then Bulkhead comes to chase the Vehicons off.” She took a deep vent. “And that night, Optimus worries about their safety and has Bumblebee and Arcee bring them to the base after school the next day. Miko catches Arcee arguing with Jack, so she has to come along too."
Wildbreak nodded. "Right."
"So, what?” Arcee raised an optic-brow. “You want me to go off and sulk by myself just to see if things will just fall into place like you described?” She deadpanned. “Trap.”
"Even if you're right, we'll be willingly bringing three young humans into our war,” Ratchet argued, and Fowler crossed his arms.
"Those humans save everyone here countless times,” Strongarm protested. “They're family. I haven’t seen them since I was small, but I can still remember them—and we still tell their stories.” Fowler blinked. “You need them.”
"And if it isn't enough to convince you-” Wildbreak shrugged. “The day after tomorrow, we're going to tell Optimus and Dr. Ratchet where to find Megatron and what is going to happen there.“
“… Could you actually be any more dramatic?” Strongarm asked after a moment, looking at her friend in annoyance.
“I’m doing my best here.” Wildbreak shrugged. “And I still blame you.”
Strongarm rolled her optics. “Ugh.”
…
Arcee came storming back into the base, with Bulkhead and Bumblebee right behind her and frantically gesturing for everyone to get out of the two-wheeler’s way.
“No fragging way,” she said, her optics blazing.
Cliffjumper looked at her, surprised. “Arcee?”
“No fragging way!” She snapped, then she turned to Ratchet. “Where are they?!”
Ratchet looked at her, concerned. “Was it a trap?”
“No.” Optimus shook his head, his expression grave. “It was not.”
Arcee was fuming. “I don’t know what they’re were playing at, but-”
“Arcee,” Optimus tried, and she turned her glare on him. “… Did it happen?"
“... Just like they said,” she said quietly, her fists falling open. “Exactly like they said.”
Ratchet’s optics widened. “Impossible.”
“They were just kids, Doc,” Bulkhead said as Bumblebee’s wings drooped. “One of them was a young kid, too. It-… It couldn’t have been a setup. It just couldn’t have been.”
“… Where are they?” Arcee asked quietly.
Optimus glanced back, and the two young ‘bots poked their heads out from behind him.
Wildbreak held his servos up and waved them awkwardly. "Abracadabra?"
“This has to be a trap,” Arcee said, though her spark was no longer in it.
Wildbreak raised an optic-brow. “Do you really think we’re smart enough to come up with something this elaborate, or fragged in the head enough to come up with something this weird?“
Arcee’s optics narrowed again, and she took a step forward as her servos balled into fists once more. “Listen, here you little-“
“No, you listen.” Wildbreak stepped out into the open, glaring right back at her. “Against my better judgment, I am interfering here because Armi thinks it’s the right thing to do. Before the end of these next three years, she and I are going to have saved you a lot of pain and trouble.” He gestured to Cliffjumper. “We already saved his life by accident. All that would’ve been left of him is a horn you buried atop this mesa and a mangled, undead shell at the bottom of a burning mine. That would’ve been the last you saw of someone you loved.” He lowered his servo, frowning. “… And it’s still much kinder than a lot of things that happened—would happen, might happen—before the end… So, why don’t you take five on the whole paranoid, bad cop routine and actually consider the possibility that we are not your enemies?”
Arcee’s optics were wide by the time the young medic was through.
All optics were, actually—and locked on him.
“… You good, Wybie?” Strongarm asked quietly, and he closed his optics. “Easy. Put the tiger back into the cage.”
“Mmph.” Wildbreak stepped back, raising a servo to his head. “I hate getting like that. Gives me processor-aches.”
“And spark palpitations, I know.” Strongarm walked up and wrapped an arm around him, resting her servos on his shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Thanks, Armi.” Wildbreak looked up at her, and he smiled. “Heh. Where would I be, without you?”
Strongarm shrugged. “Probably home and safe.”
“… What fun would that be?” Wildbreak asked, and her optics lit up before she laughed and pulled him into a hug.
Wildbreak hugged back, closing his optics again, then the two of them separated and looked up as Optimus approached and looked down at them forlornly. “Apologies, young ones. This is all just… difficult to accept.”
“I know.” Strongarm turned to face him. “One of my caregivers went through a similar experience, a very long time ago. Or, well—a short time from now. He went to a strange place and had to earn the trust of the people there, people who reminded him of his family… and who eventually became just that.” She sighed. “I guess that Wildbreak and I just never imagined we’d end up in the same place. It’s… scary.” She started to rub at her arms as she looked at the floor. “I really don’t know how he did it.”
“Armi,” Wildbreak said quietly.
“Hm?” Strongarm blinked, then she looked down at her arms. “Oh.” She quickly folded her arms, trying to hide the hives. “Oops.”
“You’re not taking this nearly as well as you’re pretending to,” Wildbreak noted, then he sighed. “Do you have the salve?” Strongarm looked at him awkwardly. “You left it in your bunk, again?”
“… Maybe?”
Wildbreak nodded. “I figured as much. I guess that I’ll just… make some more.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Wildbreak wrapped an arm around her. “You get us into trouble, I get us out of it—but we look after each other. That’s the deal, and why we have fun instead of twisted limbs.”
Strongarm’s little smile returned. “I ever tell you that you got the short end of the stick?”
“About as many times as I’ve told you that no, I haven’t,” he assured her, and she nodded.
“What are those?” Fowler asked, looking at Strongarm skeptically.
“Hives. They can form on the plating as a result of an environmental hazard, or as a symptom of high stress,” Ratchet informed the agent. Fowler looked like he was questioning everything. “The latter form are rare, usually inherited.”
“Indeed.” Optimus was looking at Strongarm sadly. “And while Ultra Magnus is known for composure under pressure, he has his tells.” The other Autobots exchanged surprised glances, and Optimus got down on one knee to address the young ‘bots. “… You are very much his daughter, Strongarm. Please, forgive us for the distress that we have caused—to both of you.”
“It’s okay.” Strongarm put on a small smile. “I know you’d never do anything to hurt us on purpose, Optimus. I’ve known you all my life.” She slowly frowned again. “… I’ve just never seen you so tired. Not that I can remember, at least.” She sighed. “You’re Maggie's best friend. You've always been there for us, for me. So, maybe… I can return the favor, this time around.”
"… He's alive?" Optimus asked quietly.
Strongarm’s smile returned. "So alive."
Optimus smiled back at her, then he tilted his head and raised an optic-brow. "… Who did he-?"
"Oh, you're going to- Hold on.” Strongarm pulled away from Wildbreak to face the Prime. “Swear to secrecy? Cross your spark?”
Optimus reached up and used his finger to draw an X over his chest. “Cross my spark.”
“It's-“ Strongarm stood on the tips of her peds to whisper it to the Prime, then she fell back onto her feet as his optics widened. “Yeah."
"… I knew it,” Optimus said at last—earning a laugh from the cadet, which made him smile.
“Well, Strongarm won him over,” Wildbreak remarked, crossing his arms. “Again.” He glanced at the other Autobots. “So, what's next on the activities list?” They just stared back at him, and he deadpanned. “Okay, that’s getting old. Is this going to become a regular thing?”
Strongarm looked away from Optimus, her shoulders raising. “It better not.”
“Armi, it’s fine,” Wildbreak assured her as she moved to stand beside him again. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’ll get used to it.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Strongarm told him. “Especially not from them.” She looked at Optimus, frowning. “I want to help you, but my first priority is WIldbreak’s safety. If he’s not safe here, then we won’t stay here.” The young medic looked at her with wide optics. “So, from now on, I will not tolerate anything I see as a threat to him—physically or mentally.“
Ratchet shook his head, at a loss. “Are we certain this is Ultra Magnus’s daughter?”
Strongarm’s winglets flared. “Why, you-“
Before she could do anything else, Wildbreak reached out and grabbed her arm. She looked back at him, frustrated, but he shook his head before stepping around her to face Ratchet.
“As sure as I am that you and my caregiver eventually become partners in a lab at Iacon, and you help him raise me,” Wildbreak said plainly.
Ratchet blinked, then his face dropped. “… What?”
“Strongarm’s been carrying this whole thing because she’s Magnus’s kid. I guess it’s my turn to pull some weight,” Wildbreak said, eerily calm. Strongarm adjusted her grip on him and kept it, looking worried. “Because why should you trust me? After all, I look like a Big, Bad ‘Con—even though I’ve only ever learned enough self-defense to keep myself and Armi safe, on a Cybertron where half of the population still looks at me just like you’re looking at me now. It doesn’t matter that I was the first sparkling born on a post-war Cybertron—I came with a large frame and yellow optics, and my only surviving caregiver was a reformed Decepticon.” His optics narrowed. “What exactly was the plan, for the war’s end? You claim to be so righteous, but—aside from Optimus—you’re all just as determined to eradicate all of your enemies as the Decepticons are. You don’t picture them in your ‘after’, because they taint the image.” He took a deep vent. “… I’m not upset because of how you’re all looking at me. I get looks just like that every day. I’m upset because it’s you, and you shouldn’t get looks like that from your family. I know you’re not the people I know yet. You have a lot to learn, a lot of growing to do.” He met Ratchet’s optics. “… I guess I just never considered the fact that if I met you less than fifteen years before I was protoformed, you’d want me dead on sight. Makes me wonder about the time I was too young to remember. Did you all look at me this way when I first left the Well?” He let out a wry chuckle. “Must have been a relief, then—when Strongarm came years later, with white armor and blue optics.”
The tension had left Ratchet’s body as he stared at the young mech.
Strongarm looked crestfallen. “Wildbreak…”
“… One of my caregivers did not survive the war,” Wildbreak began, still oddly resolute. “We still don’t know how I came about as I did without him. The caregiver who lived said it was luck, or a gift from Primus. Personally, I’ve never really seen him as much of a giver. He destroys lives just as Unicron does, he just takes his time doing it and makes you feel grateful.” He shook his head. “Dr. Ratchet said it was some ‘cosmic back-order’, caused by the Allspark being sent off-world for so long. But that’s not really an explanation either, is it? Whatever it was, my caregiver was terrified—he was the one former ‘Con known as a member of ‘Team Prime’, and the adjustment was slow and rocky. The Nemesis taught him that he could trust no one, that he could be hurt or cast aside or sent to his death at any time. He was worthless.” He glanced over at his friend. “… But one of Strongarm’s caregivers broke the ice. He’d done it before, when my caregiver first joined the team—but he seriously stepped in, and the team stepped up soon after.” Strongarm squeezed his servo. “I was way too young to remember that. I don’t remember ever my caregiver being scared, or anyone on this team being cold to us. It’s just not there…. I grew up as the first child born on a peaceful Cybertron, the child of Decepticons—and I was scared all the time. But I always knew that my family had my back, and that… I didn’t have to be what everyone saw me as. I didn’t have to hurt or scare people.” He looked up at Ratchet again. “… So, I became a medic. And I’m actually really, really good.”
“He is,” Strongarm agreed quietly. “Combines Decepticon science with Autobot ethics. And bedside manner.”
“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Wildbreak looked at her with a smirk. “Out of the two of them, we both know that my caregiver tends to be more hospitable.”
Strongarm snorted. “Fair.”
Wildbreak snickered, then looked at Ratchet again. “Hm. You want proof, though? For starters-” He pulled his clawed servo from Strongarm’s and held it out, and he projected a number of documents into the air. “Here are my degrees, and my license. You signed them.”
|What?| Bumblebee asked, alarmed.
“Those are forged,” Arcee decided. “Right?”
“… No.” Ratchet stared at the documents, stunned. “They are not.”
Bulkhead blinked. “You’re jokin’, Doc.”
“Don’t call me that.”/“Don’t call him that.” Ratchet and Wildbreak said together, then they exchanged surprised glances.
Then, Wildbreak smiled and raised an optic-brow. “I guess some things never change.”
“Heh.” Ratchet turned to face the younger mech, a disbelieving smile on his face. “No one else has ever discouraged that.”
“You eventually give up trying, with the Wreckers,” Wildbreak told him. “But I do my best to respect my teacher.”
“… Do you have any more proof for me, doctor?” Ratchet asked softly.
Wildbreak lowered his arm, the hologram blinking off. “I could go with a really low blow. You’ve told me a lot, over the years. Lots of guilt, and regrets.”
“I think I’ve earned a low blow,” Ratchet told him. “Consider it… making us even.” His face fell. “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry. War has… changed me.”
“I know.” Wildbreak nodded. “And I know that it’ll keep changing you, in ways you’re not going to expect. But… not all of them are going to be bad.” He walked over to face Ratchet. “Someday, you’re going to be someone who takes care of my family just because we need you to. So… how about I actually try to make us even, and prevent a few of those regrets?”
Wildbreak held a servo out. Ratchet blinked, and hesitantly offered his servo. Wildbreak took it, then reached under Ratchet’s arm and tripped an emergency switch.
The panel built into Ratchet’s arm opened, and Wildbreak took a look at the screen before looking at the elder medic with a sigh. “I always kinda hoped that you were exaggerating, but… my caregiver always watched you so carefully, to be sure.”
“What’s going on?” Arcee asked, and Wildbreak carefully turned Ratchet’s arm to reveal the screen. “Whoa. Are those Ratchet’s Energon levels?”
Optimus’s optics were huge. “Ratchet?”
“We need a cube, stat,” Wildbreak said, not taking his optics off of the astonished older medic. “I’ll prep a slow-feeding IV, so we don’t overwhelm his engine. He’s been like this for a long time.”
|How long?| Bumblebee asked, his optics wide.
Any lingering suspicion held by the Autobots had seemingly vanished, replaced by worry.
Wildbreak was quiet, still looking at Ratchet, then he sighed. “… I’ll tell them, if you can’t.”
“I-…” Ratchet was at a loss.
Wildbreak closed his optics. “Since the war started, and Energon rations became regular. He doesn’t think that he deserves to consume more fuel than he needs to stay functional. He thinks that if he’s fully-fueled, he’s depriving the warriors.” The young medic opened his optics again, frowning. “He talks a big game, but his personal self-confidence and sense of self-worth is practically nonexistent. He blames himself for everything.” He glanced back at the timeline Strongarm had created, then he returned his gaze to the elder doctor. “… And I’m not just going to stand back and watch you suffer. You don’t know me yet, but you are family.”
Ratchet swallowed thickly. “It was… Dr. Wildbreak, yes?”
“Heh.” The younger mech smiled. “I’m not used to that, even from the you I know.”
“You refer to me by my title.”
“Yeah, duh.” Wildbreak rolled his optics, then blinked before smiling awkwardly. “Sorry.”
“Hm.” Ratchet’s expression had completely softened. “Don’t be… You must have truly impressed me.”
Wildbreak shrugged. “Well, I learned from the best.” His smile relaxed. “Y’know, this is gonna be a really weird story to tell me someday.”
Ratchet chuckled. “I expect so.”
“Luckily, no one tells stories like you can,” Wildbreak noted.
Ratchet raised an optic-brow. “I told you stories?”
“All the time,” Wildbreak assured him. “You and my caregiver, you… helped each other, so you could both sleep. You still do. You fuss.”
“Then, I look forward to meeting him,” Ratchet told the young mech.
Wildbreak’s smile grew awkward again. “It might not be the best first impression. We have a long way to go.”
“So, let’s get started,” Ratchet decided, shutting the panel in his arm.
Arcee frowned. “Ratchet?”
“… A brilliant young doctor has delivered his diagnosis, and I concur,” Ratchet said, looking at his teammates. “And I approve of the proposed treatment plan.”
“On it.” Wildbreak nodded, turning away, then he looked back at the elder medic. “Uh, permission to utilize your facilities?”
“Granted,” Ratchet assured him, and he watched as the younger mech got to work.
“… Well, I’ll be damned,” Fowler remarked. “I honestly didn’t think you could like anyone but Prime and Bumblebee.”
As Ratchet rolled his optics, Arcee rested her servos on her hips. “You trust him?”
“Evidently, I will,” Ratchet replied, looking at her, then he nodded. “So, I do.”
She blinked, then sighed and nodded. “This is still really, really weird.”
“Tell me about it,” Strongarm remarked, and Arcee glanced at her. “In our time, you’re practically my aunt. Right now, I kinda wanna punch you—most of you, actually. If you were anyone else, I would.” The cadet looked down, frowning. “… I learned from a very young age that the end of the war wasn’t the end of the violence. My job is hunting down criminals, and… I’ve still had to fight more people wearing this emblem than a different one. I don’t know if I’ll ever break even.” All around, faces fell. “My parents always told me that I didn’t have to learn how to fight, but… I had people to protect.” She glanced over at where Wildbreak was working. “I meant what I said. He comes first for me, like I always have for him. if I see anyone point a gun at him again or even look at him coldly, I won’t let him talk me down again. There will be Hell to pay.” She turned her gaze to Ratchet. “… It really is the thing that’s hurt him the most, so far. How you were looking at him. I grew up with Optimus as… an uncle? Grandfather? I don’t even know. But you? You were always Wildbreak’s grandfather.”
Ratchet didn’t look away from the younger medic. “That would mean that… I came to look at a Decepticon as-”
“Yeah.” Strongarm nodded. “You did… In the end, he was just another young ‘bot who needed you. And you were the first person to show him any true kindness after his conjunx died.” She looked away. “They’d do anything for you.”
Ratchet closed his optics, his shoulders raising. “By the Allspark.”
“… How did we do it?” Arcee asked quietly. “After everything they did, how did we-..?”
“I don’t know.” Strongarm shook her head. “Wildbreak came first, I came second years later—so I wasn’t there at all, for the whole adjustment period. My parents weren’t even bonded yet.”
“Ultra Magnus,” Bulkhead noted. “Huh. Gotta wonder who he wound up with.”
Strongarm snorted. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the looks on your faces.” She glanced at Optimus, smiling. “Yours was good. Theirs will be better.”
Optimus gazed at her sadly. “… If Wildbreak’s assessment is correct, this is not even your reality.”
“I know.” Strongarm nodded. “But I learned a long time ago… a short time from now… that you don’t turn your back on family, and that family can be found in strange places.” She chuckled softly. “Oh, and that’s another reason why you need to shape up… Sooner or later, our family is going to be coming for us.” She smirked. “And they have no qualms when it comes to kicking their alternates’ afts. Trust me, it comes up more often than you’d think.”
“Oh, does it?” Cliffjumper asked, amused.
Strongarm grinned. “Oh, yeah—it’s like nothing, at this point. I’m even an inter-reality chess champion, the best I’ve come across anywhere.” She looked at Optimus again. “I can even beat you.”
"Oh, puh-lease.” Ratchet smiled incredulously. “Claiming that you can outwit not just Optimus but the collective wisdom of the Primes in a simple strategy game? That may be your most far-fetched claim yet.”
"Please, don't.” Wildbreak had returned with the IV prepped, and his optic twitched. “When we were sparklings, she ditched Optimus to cross the multiverse and beat a townhouse full of alternate Decepticons. Twice."
“… What?” Bulkhead asked. “Repeat that, slowly.”
As Strongarm’s optics shone, Wildbreak closed his optics. “Oh, Primus—no. You’ve brought this on yourselves.”
"Up for a game?" Strongarm asked, looking at Optimus excitedly.
The Prime looked genuinely concerned. “I… suppose?”
“Great!” Strongarm grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the monitor.
“She gets her strength from Magnus,” Wildbreak noted calmly as jaws dropped. “Now, Dr. Ratchet, with all due respect: please hold still, or I’ll get the wrench.”
…
Optimus stared up at the monitor as Strongarm stretched her arms before looking at him with a smile.
“Predictable as ever,” she joked, resting her servos on her hips. “Round two?” She blinked, noticing the Prime’s face. “Optimus? Hey, you okay?”
Optimus took a deep vent. “Apologies, I-"
“What for? You’re not made of stone,” Strongarm told him, then she sighed. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I know you better than most, but… I guess it’s hard to believe some of the stories, about what all of you were like during the war.” She looked up at him sadly. “It's okay to be overwhelmed, and freaked-out, and worried. Trust me, Optimus: I am, too. But it's gonna be okay.” She managed a small smile. “Wildbreak and I are here. We can help, if you just let us.”
“… I never imagined a life after the war, in any capacity,” the Prime confessed.
Strongarm nodded. “I know.”
“You say that there will come a time where I just get to… rest. To be at peace, doing a job I enjoy and… watching my family live.”
“You do,” Strongarm assured him. “After all that happened, that’s the least you deserve.” She watched the Prime look away. “Maybe you need one last shred of proof. Just to make this all real.”
“I trust you.”
“But you’re scared to,” Strongarm said. “… And it’s not the first time you’ve been scared, or the last. But nowadays, you think you have to be scared alone.” She took a deep vent. “… You didn’t didn't walk into the council chambers alone, and… even though most stories leave this part out… you didn't walk out alone.” Optimus blinked, then he looked at her in surprise. “There was a young Guard who survived the attack, and he followed you. He never went back, but he didn't need to. He was the first one to follow you and with him, he brought discipline and strategy and… more optimism than you ever would have been able to find for yourself had you left alone.” She huffed out a weak laugh. “You told me once that you were speechless, when he came to walk beside you and just started talking because he wanted to keep the ball rolling. After everything that had just happened in those chambers, you were reeling—but nothing could slow him down. He was already trying to help you make Cybertron a better place, and he decided it was worth a shot to try your way—without violence. He knew the law better than he knew himself, all of the darkness and corruption that awaited, but… as uptight as he seemed, he was wild too.” She crossed her arms. “The king of malicious compliance, formal yet reckless and eager—and… a bit nervous and awkward. He could talk your audial sensors into shutdown when excited, but he's an introvert. Like you.” There was a spark in the Prime’s optics. “And you tried to look out for him, because he looked up to you. You trusted him, and... when you saw that his spark—his compassion—was pulling him to the most dangerous place in the war... you let him go.” She sighed. “You were scared then too, of course. Scared to lose someone else you cared about. Scared that you’d lose everyone you cared about, and wind up alone… but you had hope. And if anyone could save the Wreckers, it was him.”
“I told you that,” Optimus said softly.
Strongarm looked at him and nodded. “You did. You weren’t just a teacher, or even just family. You'd volunteer to watch over me when my parents needed help, or just when you wanted company in the archives.” She smiled. “You're my friend. And you don’t leave a friend in the scrap.”
Optimus started to smile at her again. “Then, I am fortunate to have made a friend like you.”
“You say that now,” she joked. “I gave you plenty of spark-attacks when I was younger. I apologize in hindsight, and… in advance.”
The Prime found himself chuckling, then his optics widened and he looked back.
The rest of his team was staring at him.
Optimus didn’t know what to do, but then a servo grabbed his and he looked down to see Strongarm still smiling at him.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
Somehow, he truly believed her.
And carefully, he squeezed her servo back.
…
…
…
Strongarm and Wildbreak examined their timeline together—with Optimus with them, and Ratchet taking notes.
“Okay.” Strongarm rested her servos on her hips. “We know the sequence of events, and that it all happens within the next three years. We don’t have the Iacon database, the Relics, or the space-bridge generator, and we’re waiting on reinforcements.” She frowned. “We need to maintain enough stability to ensure that the wins stay the same while also trying to save lives and prevent tragedy. So… I guess we have to decide whose lives we have the power to save, and what that would mean.”
“Feels like we’re playing Primus, here,” Wildbreak noted. “My caregiver always said to embrace these opportunities as they come, but Dr. Ratchet always gave him looks.” He glanced at Strongarm. “We’ve got tons of Vehicon casualties, obviously—then other deaths include Skyquake, Seaspray, Makeshift, Dreadwing…” He hesitated. “And, uh… And Breakdown.” As Strongarm grew worried, Wildbreak looked at Optimus. “You and Megatron are notoriously hard to perish permanently, and Megatron might not change without that cosmic wake-up call. I think our best bet is to try and strategize to keep you from dying at the Battle of the Well, but Megatron’s on his own.”
“It’s character building,” Ratchet agreed, and Optimus shot a look at him.
Wildbreak looked back at the board. “If we have the opportunity to save lives, we can try—but our primary concern is this family. Cliffjumper is safe, so let’s just focus on getting to the end of this.”
“Wildbreak.” Strongarm was looking at him sadly. “It’s alright to ask for help.”
“It’s not our universe.” He gave her a firm look. “We can’t mess this up.” After a long, quiet moment, Wildbreak sighed and looked away. “I need a minute.”
Strongarm watched her friend walk away, and Ratchet glanced at her with concern. “What is it?”
“… His caregiver,” Strongarm confessed. “The one who died. There’s a chance that… things could be different, here. And I don’t think he’ll forgive himself if he doesn’t try.” She took a deep vent. “If someone doesn’t try.”
Ratchet frowned. “A Decepticon?”
“… Family,” Strongarm insisted, closing her optics. Optimus and Ratchet exchanged glances, and the young Autobot opened her optics to regard the board again. “Okay, so: Wildbreak provided data from the post-war Dark Energon studies. You should be able to locate the signature when Megatron conducts his little experiment, and we can go to neutralize the Terror-‘Cons while a second team disrupts the Nemesis’s communications.”
“How do we find it without Agent Fowler being captured?” Optimus questioned her.
“Heh.” Strongarm rested her servos on her hips, smirking. “Thanks to my caregiver, I know that ship like the back of my servo. It was practically a second home, so it doesn’t matter how hard they try to hide it. I can track it down.”
“Why even go to all this trouble?” Ratchet argued. “We can just find the bridge and destroy it before the Decepticons are ready.”
“No.” Strongarm shook her head. “We have to allow the space-bridge to activate and then draw Megatron out. Then, we detonate it to take Megatron off of the chessboard for a while.” She raised a servo to her chin. “And since Optimus isn’t going to get sick, we can put off his return—allowing us to win the war behind his back.”
Optimus blinked, surprised. “How do you propose we do that?”
“Skyquake,” Strongarm said. “He’s loyal to Megatron and Megatron alone. I believe that if we don’t interfere with Starscream waking him up, Skyquake will kill him.” Her brow furrowed. “But it’s a gamble, one we might have to tip the scales of by making an appearance. If Starscream dies in the gorge, no one removes the Dark Energon from Megatron’s spark. He’ll be awake when Soundwave finds him. But if Skyquake lives to return to the Nemesis, and suspects that Starscream acted out-”
Ratchet’s optics glinted. “Skyquake might finish Starscream off.”
“Yes.” Strongarm nodded. “And for the moment, at least… the Decepticons will have lost their top two commanders. And Soundwave, he’s no leader.” She rested both servos on her hips. “Skyquake and Makeshift will have to make do. There may even be a power struggle between them while Soundwave handles the day-to-day affairs. They may still call the medics for Megatron, but they might be less likely to send medics out onto the battlefield.” She shifted, uncomfortable. “The good thing is that I know that both Skyquake and Makeshift were beaten by this team once. We just have to make sure that, this time, you do it without killing Skyquake. Otherwise, his death will summon Dreadwing—who is actually competent.”
“That still leaves Soundwave,” Ratchet reminded her.
Strongarm shrugged. “Shadowzone.”
“Shockwave, on Cybertron,” Optimus added warily.
Strongarm smirked. “Shadowzone, until we need him for the Cybermatter.”
“You can’t just throw all of your problems into the Shadowzone!” Ratchet protested, irked.
Strongarm removed a remote from her storage compartment and wagged it. “Now that I have this, I can.”
“What in-?” Ratchet blinked as the remote was placed into his servos.
“Snuck out, last night—and found the Harbinger,” Strongarm admitted as the medic’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell Wildbreak. Also, we can now get you to and from the space-bridge safely… and get the Allspark to the Well in time to save Optimus’s life.”
Optimus grew surprised, then his expression softened. “… You have thought about this before.”
“I grew up with the stories,” Strongarm reminded him. “And no one likes to be helpless when people they love are hurt.”
“This isn’t your war,” Optimus said.
“It’s my family,” she told the Prime. “So, yes: it is.”
“… There’s still the matter of an army of Vehicons,” Ratchet cut back in.
Strongarm nodded. “I know. And… I actually think that Wildbreak can help us with that.”
“What do you mean?” Ratchet asked.
“Well, those medics I mentioned?” Strongarm asked. “If we get rid of the other officers, they actually might be able to help us end this war. There’s just one thing we have to take care of, first.”
Ratchet raised an optic-brow. “What’s that?”
Staringarm’s optics narrowed. “We have to kill Airachnid.”
The whole room seemed to go quiet.
The Autobots turned their attention away from their new charges, their optics wide—and Cliffjumper quickly looked to his partner, his expression concerned.
“… Okay, I’m sold,” the two-wheeler said at last, stunned. “I like her.”
Optimus frowned at that. “Revenge will not bring you peace.”
“But it’ll prevent a moon full of Insecticon vampires,” Strongarm said, and the Prime’s shoulders sagged. “Checkmate.”
“Yo.” A tiny figure walked over, hands on hips and eyebrow raised. “What’s happening, over here?” She blinked, surprised. “That is one wild conspiracy board.”
“Miko, Jack, Rafael,” Optimus began. “I don’t believe you have been properly introduced.” He gestured. “This is Cadet Strongarm, a budding young strategist from our Elite Guard.” He then pointed over towards the monitors. “And we also have Dr. Wildbreak, Ratchet’s fellow medic.”
A boy nodded and waved. “Hey.”
A younger boy nervously raised a hand. “H-Hello.”
And the girl’s face lit up. “Sweet!”
“Hm.” Strongarm’s expression softened, and she smiled. “Hey.” She got down on one knee to face Miko. “You can just call me ‘Strongarm’, or… friends and family get to use ‘Armi’. And it’s… really nice to meet you.” She tilted her head. “Is that a guitar?”
“Sure is!” Miko replied. “You play?”
“My sisters taught me,” Strongarm said quietly, then she grinned. “Hang on.”
The cadet transformed, and Miko gasped and stepped back as an image flickered to life in the air. “Whoa! What is that?”
“A holoform,” Strongarm’s voice replied from the image, which appeared to be a young woman in her late teens or early twenties. She rested her fists on her hips, and she smiled warmly. “My caregivers taught me, and one of them enhanced it. Like this, I can interact with the world much like a human.”
“No way.” Miko’s face lit up again, then she offered the guitar. “Alright, let’s hear it.”
Strongarm took the guitar into her hands, checked to make certain that it was tuned, then smiled as she suddenly began to shred—as the Autobots had heard it phrased.
Miko’s jaw dropped—and Wildbreak looked back from the monitor and rolled his optics, but he was smiling.
When Strongarm was through, she offered the guitar back. “Sorry. I’m rusty.”
“… You looking to adopt another sister?” Miko asked as she took the guitar back.
Strongarm blinked, then she chuckled softly. “Yeah… I think I’ve got a slot open, if there’s room in the band.”
“Room in the-? Get over here!” Miko grabbed Strongarm by the wrist. “You’re showing me how you did that!”
Strongarm laughed as she followed along, leaving Ratchet and Optimus alone in front of the ‘conspiracy board’.
“… Her strategy is extreme, Optimus,” Ratchet finally said. “Perhaps Wildbreak is correct, and we should stay on-course.”
“Wildbreak is a kind spark, but he does not believe in a kind universe,” Optimus argued gently. “He does not want to risk what is for what was—and he doubts we can find the kindness within ourselves to trust his judgment.”
“To save a Decepticon,” Ratchet noted. “His caregiver.” He sighed. “Strongarm is the only one he completely trusts, and that might not only be the case here.”
“She’s earned that trust,” Optimus told his medic gently. “So must we.”
Ratchet frowned. “We don’t even know who his caregiver was.”
“We know that he died before the war’s end,” Optimus stated, turning to regard the board again. “And that it was a brutal death.”
“One of them?” Ratchet asked, indicating the list of the Decepticons who died during the Earth war. “Who-?” Optimus reached up and placed a finger under a name. “… Oh. Oh, of course.” His expression became grim. “You’ve heard the rumors about that one, haven’t you? Rumors that one of our own teammates has corroborated?”
Optimus nodded. “Yes.”
“Can we take that chance?”
“She is going to. For him,” Optimus reminded his medic. “It is only a matter of whether or not we will help… and have hope, for what they can be.”
“Hm.” Ratchet seemed uncertain, then he sighed. “One crisis at a time.”
Optimus nodded again. “Of course.” He looked to the board, deep in thought. “We know what the future holds if we stay on-course, old friend. It is now simply a matter of mercy.” He glanced down at Ratchet. “We know that we shall save ourselves. Do we save the Decepticons as well?”
Ratchet seemed uncertain, then he sighed. “If-… If we’re right about the caregiver who dies, we can make assumptions about the one who lives.”
He reached up and took a drawing between his digits, pulling it from the board and looking down at it with a frown.
“A Decepticon,” Optimus said.
Ratchet closed his optics, then opened them to look at the Prime. “… Family.”
…
…
…
Strongarm’s gifts as a strategist were frightening—but as a child of Ultra Magnus from the future, what had they expected?
It was eerie, how everything fell into place much as she had described—and stranger still, knowing that the actions they were taking may very well change the fates of all.
The dead rose. The space-bridge detonated.
Skyquake awoke, and Optimus and Bumblebee lingered just long enough to distract him until Starscream left to locate Megatron. That was the first major change to the future.
And Strongarm would know if the future had begun to change based upon whether or not the next event occurred as she knew it would.
If Makeshift tried to replace Wheeljack, Starscream was alive. If he didn’t, then Starscream was not around to make that plan.
And there would be no going back.
Plus, Makeshift would still be a problem.
The scraplet trap was never removed from the Arctic, so the ground bridge was never damaged. There would be no delay.
Still, what would be waiting on the other side was terrifying—for many reasons.
"Armi, you'll pace a path into the floor,” Wildbreak chided gently as he watched her walk back and forth. “It’s not like he’s a Decepticon.”
“Ugh. I know, I know.” She shook her head. “But… I’m not ready to look my ‘Jackie in the optics and have him not know me.”
“He’s not your ‘Jackie,” Wildbreak reminded her. “He’s from another universe, another time. Think of it like ol’ Professor Wheeljack, from the other reality.”
“Still can’t believe they let him teach,” Strongarm remarked, then she sighed. “… This is different.”
“Yeah.” Wildbreak glanced down. “I know.”
“… I miss them,” Strongarm whispered. “My parents. Our family.”
Wildbreak nodded. “Me, too. But while we’re waiting for them to find us, we can just… do our best for the people here.”
“All of them?” Strongarm looked at him, frowning. “Even Breakdown?”
Wildbreak sighed. “Armi-”
“Wybie, there’s a chance that this Knockout won’t have to lose him,” Strongarm argued. “That another Wildbreak can have both of his parents. Isn’t that great?”
“But what will it cost?” Wildbreak asked. “Armi, he was nice for a Decepticon—remember? If he lives, it could cost the war. What if him living means no Uncle Bulkhead, or Aunt Arcee? What if it means that you lose one of your caregivers, or that Knockout never joins the ‘Bots?” He shook his head. “It’s too risky.”
“But-” Strongarm looked up as a ship was detected, and a call was made. Her optics were wide, and she looked back at Wildbreak before becoming forlorn again. “Aren’t some things worth the risk?”
“… I wouldn’t know,” Wildbreak told her. “And I never will.”
…
…
Wildbreak should have known what would happen the moment that ground-bridge opened.
"Armi?” He asked as she left his side, but there she went—through the portal. “Armi! I'm gonna kill her."
Wildbreak ran through with the others, because that was what he had always done and what he would always do.
And the first thing he saw was Strongarm, a blade held in both of her servos, her optics narrowed as she stood between Skyquake and a fallen Wrecker.
"Get away from him,” she commanded, then she yelled and lashed out.
The fight didn’t last long, not with the Autobot team present and the advantage lost. Wildbreak tried not to think about the fact that Wheeljack never being captured meant that a hundred Vehicons would live to come after them another day.
The Decepticons eventually fled, and Strongarm panted with exhaustion as she gripped a sword stained with blue and turned around. And…
"Whoa.” Wheeljack stared up at her as he recovered on the ground, then he grinned. “You fight like a Wrecker, kid."
Strongarm blinked, looking down at him with wide optics, then she swallowed thickly and nodded. "My parents taught me well.” She walked over, and she held out a servo. “Are you alright?"
“‘M fine.” Wheeljack took her servo, and he laughed as she pulled him to his feet. “Wow. Stronger than you look.” He grunted, nearly collapsing again, but Strongarm ducked under his arm and wrapped her arm around him—keeping him on his feet. “Heh. Thanks, kid.” He looked up tiredly, and he smiled. “Hey, Bulk.” The large, green mech was just staring at him. “Bulkhead? What is it?"
“… Nothin',” he finally decided. “Nothin’.” He smiled. “Heh. It's good to see you."
Wheeljack nodded. "You, too." He then noticed Wildbreak, and he blinked. “Wait, Breakdown?”
“Uh, no.” The young medic held his servos up as Bulkhead looked at him in alarm. “No. Heh. My name’s Wildbreak. I’m a medic.”
Bulkhead just stared at Wildbreak, then he looked at Strongarm, then his shoulders sagged.
“… Oh, for frag’s sake-”
…
Strongarm knew he’d seen it—she knew, and she knew that he would be coming to find her.
So, after introductions, she waited in a hallway adjacent to the outpost’s main room—ignoring calls and texts from Miko, who wondered where her backup guitarist had gone.
Bulkhead came, just as she knew he would, and Strongarm took a deep vent. Wildbreak had left with Optimus for a drive, so she had time to smooth this out… hopefully.
It was that, or finding a new home.
“Strongarm.”
“Look, about Wildbreak-”
“We can talk about that later,” Bulkhead said. “Look, just- Just-…” He shook his head, his optics wide as he stared down at her. “You're-..?"
Strongarm blinked, then she sighed and nodded. “Yeah.” She managed a small smile. “Hey, Uncle Bulk.”
“Heh.” And he smiled back at her. “Hey, kiddo.” He shook his head. “‘Jackie has a daughter.” He blinked. “He has a daughter... with-?"
"Yeah."
"How'd that happen?"
"It's a long story, and you're not going to believe most of it until it happens,” Strongarm admitted.
Bulkhead seemed to accept that, then he crossed his arms. “Seems like there’s a lot I won’t believe.”
“… His medic parent is the one who survives,” Strongarm reminded him. “That’s Knockout, not-…”
Bulkhead’s face dropped. “Is that why he’s so skittish around me? Did I-?”
“No.” Strongarm quickly shook her head. “No. You didn’t.” She sighed. “But Wildbreak knows that you and Breakdown had history. The you of the future has pretty much… let it go. You’re kind to him, and to Knockout—you even taught Wildbreak how to throw a decent punch. But… he knows you haven’t let it go, here. Not yet. So-”
“He’s been scared I’d hurt him because of who his parents are,” Bulkhead said.
Strongarm nodded. “Yeah.”
“… ‘Jackie was the one who let Knockout in,” Bulkhead recalled. “Wildbreak’s story, he-“
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because ‘Jackie never hated Breakdown for leaving,” Strongarm admitted. “He always used to say that, the last time he saw Breakdown alive, he was smiling. And it was because he’d met Knockout.”
“… How’s it happen?” Bulkhead asked. “Breakdown, I mean.”
Strongarm took a deep vent. “Knockout only ever told the story once.”
“What happened?
“Airachnid. She tore him to pieces,” Strongarm said, and Bulkhead looked away. “It actually gets worse from there, but-…” She looked down. “Wybie doesn’t talk about it much. I just know he’s felt the absence.”
“Breakdown would’ve been a great dad,” Bulkhead said softly.
“Honestly, I hope he can be. Here, I mean,” Strongarm confessed. “Wildbreak’s refusing to really consider it, but-“
“You wanna save Breakdown,” Bulkhead realized.
Strongarm just looked at him, biting her lower lip. “… If you knew the future, and you could do just one thing to spare your best friend pain… wouldn’t you do it?”
Bulkhead blinked, then he sighed and glanced away. “… Yeah.” He looked at her again, and he nodded. “I’d probably be doin’ the same thing you’re doin’.”
Strongarm nodded back, feeling reassured, then she took another deep vent. “Hey, um... Speaking of which. A few years down the line, you and ‘Jackie get into a fight. It doesn't last forever, obviously—but... do you want me to tell you how to stop it, or at least make it less bad?"
Bulkhead blinked. "A fight?"
"An argument.” Strongarm rephrased. “‘Jackie tries to tell you something, and you don't wanna listen, and… it gets bad. Real bad. Like, you still apologize sometimes—and I'm pretty sure one of my first words was 'sorry’. Do you know how hard it is for a sparkling to say that?"
".. Okay, kiddo.” Bulkhead seemed to brace himself. “What've you got?"
"Wait, you trust me?” Strongarm asked, surprised. “Even with-?”
“You’re family. A Wrecker,” Bulkhead told her. “Of course, I do… You’re lookin’ after your own.”
“… I’m doing my best to,” Strongarm told him, then she braced herself. “… Uncle Bulk, about your stories…”
…
…
(Stay Tuned for Part 2)
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