Chapter Text
Wheeljack finished another paint-sized bottle of high-grade, pushing it aside to join its empty brethren. Blurr's bar buzzed with a restless energy, the crowd a palpable, shifting presence, yet a sense of hollowness permeated the air, as if a vital component of its very being had been cruelly ripped away.
Stolen. Murdered. And buried.
He gripped his head, desperately seeking a clean surface amidst the chaos. His processor throbbed, his mind grappling with the unsolvable equation that was Bumblebee's current state. He tried to approach it like a detached scientific experiment, but for once, the sheer instability of the situation paralyzed him, rendering him unable to muster the courage to begin.
"You're overdoing it, don't you think?" Blurr commented, observing his friend's distress as he cleared away a drained glass. He was glad to be free of the soldier's life and political machinations, but he couldn't deny the creeping, gnawing emptiness that had taken root.
"I'm not drowning it enough," Wheeljack retorted, lifting his head to signal for another drink. Blurr wordlessly complied, preparing the concoction while debating whether or not to broach the delicate subject. Brainstorming with others had always been an effective way to dissect a problem, but this particular problem, was it even real? Or was he simply succumbing to paranoia?
"Hey… hey Blurr, did Bumblebee seem… off to you?" Each word emerged fractured, as if uttering them might summon the very demon himself, Prowl, who would promptly tare his spark out and show it to him.
"Bumblebee?" Blurr considered the question, setting down the refilled glass but resolving to cut him off after this one. "There was that awkward moment of silence, sure, but other than that, he seemed normal enough to me."
"Huh? Okay…" Wheeljack took a long swig, questioning his own sanity. Was he truly overthinking things?
"I will say… I do find his new tactics… out of character, to say the least," Blurr mused absently. Separating the Decepticons was extreme, but if everything they said was true, it was a willing choice. That they need to normalcy or among themselves, before integrating with the fraction they've been fighting for the last who knows how many decades. It made since, he thinks, all he knows for sure, it has been empty lately.
"That's what I'm worried about. Bumblebee isn't like this, this cold and calloused. He's always been full of heart, willing to try and bring everyone together, even knowing he'd might fail. This isn't him…" Wheeljack, with an almost childish dejection, slumped his head onto the polished table, utterly depressed and defeated. Vocalizing his suspicions both solidified his deductions and increased his feeling of madness. It was as if the rules of his world were being re-written, twisted to suit some malevolent will.
His will.
"I don't know, Wheeljack. Everyone eventually changes. After losing Starscream, the poor guy probably just snapped. Falling in love, just to have them die, that's not easy on anyone's conscious." Blurr said, staking clean and dryed glassed over one and another.
"Wh-what?" Lover? He had no idea Bumblebee and Starscream were an item. He didn't know why, but this felt like a crucial, missing piece of the puzzle.
"Yeah, you didn't hear the rumors? I tried to keep it quiet, but, you know, knew, Starscream. He couldn't keep his hands to himself or his trap shut. The flirting could make me gag.” Blurr chuckled to himself, at the fond memory of a good night approaching, it only made the emptiness even more apparent.
"I never would have guessed. Bumblebee and Starscream never seemed compatible. I…I need to talk to him." Wheeljack said, Starscream went missing right after Metalhawk. That couldn't be a coincidence. They were the main four of political headstarted at the time, not it’s just Bumblebee and… Prowl. What could that mean? Prowl wasn’t running, but…
"You may get your chance…" Blurr gestured towards the window, "He's right over there."
Wheeljack straightened up, his spark momentarily seizing as he spotted Bumblebee strolling past, Prowl close to his side, too close. He watched the pair intently, grappling with whether to rush outside or bide his time. He glanced at Blurr, who was also observing the scene.
Bumblebee turned to face the bar, offering a tentative wave, which Wheeljack weakly returned, his mind a tempest of conflicted thoughts. Bee looked to Prowl, gesturing towards the establishment, but the white mech shook his head. Bee frowned, but quickly smiled as Prowl spoke, his smile soft, accepting, tired .
He looked so fucking tired.
Wheeljack tensed as Prowl pulled Bee away, not pulled, but dragged him. A hand placed possessively at the base of his neck as he was led out of sight. Just before they disappeared from view, Wheeljack caught Prowl looking directly at him from the corner of his optic.
He knew.
What specifically he knew, he wasn't sure.
But he knew.
"That was weird," Blurr commented, assuming Bumblebee was simply preoccupied. He remembered how stressed he was before, as long as the things were getting done, he guessed, he couldn’t complain.
"Weird indeed," Wheeljack mumbled back, his resolve hardening. His mission was now clear. He was going to investigate, to unearth the truth, even if it meant his own demise. Whatever Prowl was doing, planning, or saying, it had to be stopped.
No matter the cost.
His grip tightened on his glass until it cracked, a tangible representation of the revolution that had just ignited within his spark.