Author's Note – For "tf_speedwriting" on LiveJournal. The prompt was "border crossing."
Disclaimer – "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.
It was his first real mission. They were finally letting him out to do what he'd been built to do. It was what he'd been wanting for so long! He thought he should be more excited.
Truth was, he was scared to death.
Bumblebee rested in alt-mode among the collection of mini-crafts ready to head out. Atmospheric drones, a common and plentiful sight even so long after they'd really meant anything to anyone. There hadn't been anyone to report to, no Board of Weather Studies or any other academic body, since the early days of the war, long before the little Autobot scout had been sparked. Preprogrammed ages ago, they still went out about their information-gathering duties and no one gave them a second glance, despite their bright yellow coloration. It was the perfect alt for a Minibot espionage agent.
Still, there were those who argued against it. Ironhide said he didn't have enough experience. Well, how the frag was he supposed to gain experience if he didn't get out there and, you know, gain experience? Going out on raids with the other, bigger mechs was all well and good. Jazz, the Autobots' TIC himself, had even made sure to include him on some of the more risky outtings, "teaching him the cables" as the Special Ops mech put it. But that didn't do much for what his real position for the Autobots was meant to be. Prowl, the Autobots' SIC and primary strategist, worried that he was too small, and too weak, to survive out there on his own. His structure, inside and out, had been built of what materials could be cobbled together. Consequently, they were . . . no one would say it around Bumblebee, but still he knew: subpar. He wasn't as strong or as durable as the others, not even his fellow Minibots. Brawn, Windcharger, his best friend Cliffjumper . . . frag, even Huffer was built of better stuff than he was. Bumblebee injured too easily for anyone's liking. How could he be expected to go behind enemy lines alone and make it back alive?
Because he was smart, and he was agile, and he was built by the best. His creator, Wheeljack, believed in him, and was always the quickest to defend him to the others. Bumblebee had speed and cunning on his side, and courage, and his diminutive stature was a plus for his intended line of operation. And when Wheeljack had introduced him to the others and they startled that their engineer had made the recon scout bright yellow – how the frag was he supposed to sneak around against backdrops that largely came in shades of gunmetal grey! – Wheeljack had asked when was the last time any of them had noticed a flight of atmospheric drones, let alone one lone one going about its mindless business. The room subsided when no one could properly answer that. Bumblebee had a sheet of metal that slid over his roof to hide his Autobrand, and he had other kinds of shielding to dampen his internals against outside scanners, so he'd not register on Decepticon defenses as anything other than what he appeared to be. In his creator's optics, he was perfect for the job.
Now he just hoped he could live up to that expectation.