Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.
I would like to personally thank everyone that has been kind enough to give me information on the various characters and continuities of Transformers. I have tried to write the best stories that I can and I would like to thank you all for being patient with me. I hope this ending to my first finished story is satisfactory and that you will all continue to read my stories. Thank you.
Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is very young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.
Nightmare - Chapter VI - Epilogue
Many vorns later…
The sleek silver hallways of the titanic Autobot battleship, Artemis I, shone faintly beneath the glowing lights of the ceilings and the faint humming of various machines and equipment could be heard through the doorways. The sound of voices echoed throughout the hallways from the enormous rec room, over a dozen off-shift mechs occupying their time by playing various games, watching the holovid, practicing in the large firing range, or working out.
Everything in the Autobot world of off-shift activities was proceeding as normal until…
The entire battleship seemed to quake beneath the booming voice of the Autobot's resident weapons specialist, his heavy footfalls echoing down the adjacent hallway whilst smaller, lighter ones scurried through the doorway. The twins and Jazz barely had time to react before a bright yellow blur zoomed past them and hid amongst the many machines in the weight room.
"Wonder what he did this time?" pondered Sideswipe. "Must've been good if the big guy is this steamin' mad."
Bumblebee had been driving the entire crew fritzy for the past few vorns, the little bot having entered what Ironhide had recently dubbed the 'terrible vorns'. The youngling was about the Cybertronian equivalent of a nine-year-old Earth child and could be very conniving and troublesome when he was in an 'evil' mood. Every one of the adult mechs were impatient to dock at the next neutral planet and get the bored youngling off-ship for a few dozen joors.
Unfortunately, the next neutral planet was over twelve joors away and the Autobot crew were not too sure how much more they could take of the disobedient youngling. The crew was also not sure if they would be able to save Bumblebee from his own enormous-and-planet-blowing-cannon-totting guardian. Sideswipe cherished his aft way too much to risk it. Not again.
Bumblebee was on his own this time.
The hulking frame of Ironhide burst through the doorway a few astroseconds later and tore towards the weight room, his titanic plasma cannons crackling and burning with deadly promise. Every mech in the room froze and turned to gaze at the smoldering mech, curious as to what the mischievous youngling had done this time. It did not take long for the other Autobots to catch sight of the little pink and yellow sparks drawn all over the black mech's frame.
"That little runt stole my brand name paint!!" snarled Sunstreaker, his twin trying to restrain him from charging after the hiding youngling. "You little…"
"That's…umm…that's a great look ya got goin' there, 'Hide," snickered Jazz, the other Autobots and himself struggling to contain their laughter. "Absolutely stunnin'."
"Where is he?!" growled Ironhide, shoving his colossal right plasma cannon into the face of the flashy mech. "When I get hold of him— "
Optimus Prime stood in the doorway, his powerful frame towering over the other mechs in the room and leaving them with a very slight sense of inferiority. His dark blue optics were locked on his infuriated weapons specialist, the hand that was not holding a stack of data-chips was pointing meaningfully towards the firing range doors. The large commander did not want to see another gaping hole in any of the walls of his battleship again.
The youngling probably deserved whatever punishment the older Autobot would dish out; however, Optimus did not wish to see Ironhide's temper get the better of him again. Optimus knew that his weapons specialist loved Bumblebee with every molecule of his war-hardened spark, but the carefree youngling had a bad habit of pushing his luck a little too far at times. And Ironhide's red-and-blue-spotted optics instantly confirmed that this was one of those times.
"Firing range," ordered Optimus, "Now."
Ironhide glared at Optimus, stalking towards the firing range and mumbling about how the bigger mech was probably going to give the youngling a soft punishment and that the little bot would think that he could get away with anything. "You better teach that lil' scrap-pile some manners or else he's gonna be cleanin' the bulkheads for the next vorn."
"I thought manners were your specialty, 'Hide?" taunted Sideswipe.
"Not again!" moaned Grapple, staring at the huge hole in disbelief, "I just finished repairing the last one!"
"I'll deal with him," Optimus assured, striding into the weight room and scanning the maze of machines. It only took the mighty Autobot a few astroseconds to find what he was looking for amongst the farthest exercise machine and Optimus wasted no time in plucking the youngling from his hiding spot. Optimus held the squirming Bumblebee by his scruff-bar and raised him so that the youngling was dangling right in front of his glowering face.
"Hi," squeaked Bumblebee, grinning sheepishly and blinking his baby blue optics at the towering Autobot commander, "What brings you here to this lovely work-out room?"
"You and I," said Optimus, valiantly resisting the adorable pout and watery optics that the little bot was wielding so deviously, "Need to have a talk, little one."
Several breems later…
Ironhide stomped back into the rec room and glowered at his fellow Autobots, his plasma cannons still lightly smoking and his paintjob back to its glistening black after the desperate efforts of Grapple to keep the battleship in one piece. For being such an easily depressed bot, the creative mech sure knew how to move when it came to preserving his creations and projects. The weapons specialist had been amazed to see the other mech in the firing range, standing behind him with a cube of black paint and a no-nonsense expression on his faceplate.
The grumpy ol' mech barely had enough time to open his arms before a little blur of yellow paint collided with his chassis and began chattering a kilometer a breem, bright blue optics dancing with innocence that Ironhide loved above all else. His heavy cannons instantly cooled down so as not to burn the youngling, his protective instincts overriding the simmering anger that was still smoldering within him.
"I'm sorry," Bumblebee said, his little arms wrapping around Ironhide and his tiny head snuggling into the crook of the mech's thick neck, "I promise I won't do it again and that I'll never listen to Jazz or the twins— "
"Hey!" cried the indignant voice of Jazz, "Tha' wasn't part o' the boss' lecture, ya lil' traitor!"
"— again and that taking Sunny's paint is wrong even if he's mean and refuses to share it— "
"I'm the one who paid for it, ya lil' runt!" Sunstreaker growled.
"— even after I asked nicely and said 'please' and promised not to tell you about his and Sides' stash— "
"You little brat!" shrieked Sideswipe, too infuriated to care about the deadly glare and dangerous crackling that was coming from the weapons specialist, "Wait 'til I get a hold of you!"
"— and that I shouldn't be such a pain in the skidplate when you're on shift," finished the little bot whilst staying firmly pressed into his guardian's warm side, "I'm sorry."
Ironhide simply sighed and tiredly grumbled, "Bumblebee, you need— "
"Oh, and I love you."
The last statement was then finished off with a quick kiss to Ironhide's cheekplate and yet another endearing hug from the youngling. Every mech in the room stared plainly at the gruff old mech, anxiously awaiting his reaction to the open display of affection from the little minibot. Not one of them dared to comment on the moment shared between guardian and youngling.
Although they were very frustrated by Bumblebee's impish ways by this point in time, they did not wish to see the youngling shot down emotionally after the stern lecture he had just received from Optimus and the lengthy apology he had just given his guardian. Bumblebee was a youngling after all, an important fact that they often overlooked or forgot.
"Okay," rumbled Ironhide, holding the youngling out at arms length and scanning him with his dark blue optics, "Who are you and what did ya'll do with the real Bumblebee?"
Bumblebee giggled and waved a little yellow finger at his guardian, "No one can replace me and you know it."
Exasperated sighs could be heard all around the room, Bumblebee clicking at his older comrades with cheeky indignation and great amusement whilst his guardian carefully set him on the floor. Bumblebee twittered and clicked at Sideswipe, who had taken to making obnoxious faces at the little bot.
"Why do I even bother?" Ironhide asked to no one in particular, the tiny bot grabbing his large hand before he could walk away.
"Come here, come here, come here," urged the youngling, dragging the old mech across the room towards the holovid, "There's this really neat holo that I found on the listings and you promised that I could watch the higher-rated holos if you were with me and said they were okay."
"Please, please, please," the little bot pleaded, practically dangling off the mech's arm in his efforts to pull him more quickly towards the couch, "I'll be good, I promise."
"Alright," Ironhide finally sighed whilst sitting down next to the youngling and watching him flip through the channels, "What's it called?"
Bumblebee whistled as he continued to flip, drawing the attention of the other mechs that had recently gotten off shift. "You'll see."
"Bumblebee," warned Ironhide, his tone shifting into his usual stern, parental tone that only Bumblebee had ever been on the receiving end of, "What's it called?" The little bot pretended not to hear him and continued on to the correct channel. "If it is one of those holos that has bolts and— "
Ironhide trailed off, staring at the huge screen and the brightly colored title that was scrolling down it. He could clearly hear Optimus and the other Autobots gasp at the sight of the name, old memories resurfacing as they rushed across the room towards the youngling at lightning speeds. Ironhide quickly grabbed the youngling by his scruff-bar and snatched the remote out of his hand, changing the channel as fast as mechanically possible.
"Hey!" Bumblebee whined, squirming in irritation as he was placed in Optimus' arms and swiftly carried out of the room. "Optimus!"
There was no way in Pit that Ironhide or any of his fellow Autobots were going to allow the youngling to watch that slagging holo again.
The Autobots had agreed long ago that the Orn of the Dead was never again to be shown on Artemis I's holo-screen. Ever.
Yay!! My first story is finally done!! I really hope that everyone has really enjoyed this story as much as I have and that you'll continue to read my other works as they progress. I will finish Little Brother within the next week or so and I'll continue to work on Youngling whilst also starting another shorter story similar to this one. Nevertheless, I hope you'll take the time to give me a few short comments on this story so that I'll know what or how to write in the next few. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed my story!!