Chapter Text
The television always told the same stories. By the afternoon, the ball was hit, some crowds cheered, some crowds booed. By the evening, humans big and small lined up in chalk, pixelated blood, gunshots, hands in chains. Numbers and charts lined in red. Humans in the same black and white outfits talking behind a table. By the time the day was over, the stories were long wiped out from his optics, lost and drunk in the colors of the screens. Emotion swelled up in his chest, but he forgot to cry; he forgot to drink his noon ration; he let the television refine the energon for him.
What he looked forward to most during the late hours were the movies. Humans with long, gold hair, or sometimes short and brown. Laughter, tears, a lot of shouting, and laughter. He had become so familiar with the scripts; he finished the lines of each character. This movie was one of his favorites, even if he enjoyed all of them the same: a recent blockbuster which played on the screen more often than most. Four humans in bright, frilly outfits, bickering like aggressive turbofoxes grappling over territory. How they always stood together, connected as a group, but never got along. Their camaraderie was a hollow stunt played horrendously. One talked behind the other, to the other, and so did the other. Really, there were only three of them. The fourth one inserted himself — herself — into the group, bringing trouble and breaking the previous trio apart.
Tonight his screen flashed colors of pink and fashion. He found warmth in the movie’s comical unrelatability.
A different light flashed from his back: the white headlights of a mock Ford Mustang. He didn’t jump from his seat, for these visits were routine. Bumblebee had made himself at home in Thundercracker’s excuse of a habsuite, despite only visiting for as many times as he could count with one hand. His presence was far from warm and welcoming. Deep inside, Thundercracker wished the mech before him was bright as the screens.
Bumblebee stood dead center of the garage door and waited for permission to enter. “What’s on right now?” He looked behind Thundercracker, at each television and channel for the only screen not muted. He chuckled, “You’re watching teen comedy? Don’t get me wrong, I love that one though.”
Thundercracker knew enough of how the next scene played out so he bothered to entertain his guest this time. The main character offered the antagonist a highly-concentrated snack bar. “If you want a watch party you should stick to your Autobot friends.”
Bumblebee took that as an invite to step inside. He limped slightly with the support of a walking stick, though this wasn’t the first time he showed up that way. “You know that’s not why I’m here.”
Nonetheless, Thundercracker never bothered showing any hint of concern. They weren’t friends. Their conversation was overrun by the grating voice of the antagonist whining over her heavy weight — her ‘friends’ exclaimed otherwise.
“You’re going to make one of those Optimus Prime parody speeches again and now’s your cue.”
Bumblebee smiled. “You got me there. I guess that’s the one thing you don’t like about me. But, no worries. There’s no written speeches in my memory banks today. It’s just me.”
“Nothing? I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, you know the drill. I just don’t have to explain it word for word anymore.”
Thundercracker made an excuse of hauling one crate to the opposite side of the room. “I’m not interested.”
“You can only watch TV for so long. Haven’t you seen this one already?”
“I find rewatching things more entertaining,” he grunted while lifting the crate down. “I’m not fighting a war I no longer have a part in. Go hire some other ‘Con.”
“Look, if I wanted to recruit any Decepticon I would’ve left you alone a long time ago.”
He bit back a laugh, unsure if it was from his own situation or from Bumblebee’s words. “Then what are you waiting for?”
“Because I'm here for you, not for any code or faction. You’re a soldier, sure, one of the best. You were a seeker. Yet, I see you as none of these things but as a friend. Don’t you remember the time you helped me out with Metroplex? You did the same back when you rescued me in that desert too. You’re a repeat offender, Thundercracker. We go way back.”
Thundercracker stared at the edge of his wings. A scar where a purple badge was once engraved onto his plating. He refused to look at him in the optics.
“Okay, now I’m running my mouth again. I know you’re tired of the cause you once followed. You don’t have to be a Decepticon anymore.” Bumblebee took one step closer and offered an open hand. “Can't we see eye-to-eye for once?” he said quietly, like a human child kneeling by his bed.
“Are, not were.”
He warily tucked his hand into a fist. “Sorry?”
Thundercracker bit his tongue. He scratched Bumblebee’s chest with the edge of his wings as he marched for the door. The overcast black night sky ahead painted a sight for sore optics, one so dull, pathetic, and colorless; nevertheless, it called to him. He needed to fly out of this place.
Bumblebee followed him outdoors. “I’d watch myself if I were you. Don’t wait until it all comes crashing down.”
Thundercracker transformed and started his engines. He hoped Bumblebee’s words would be drowned out.
“Because, you know what!” He raised his voice with each word. “One day this will burn you out!”
He didn’t need the advice of some Autobot. Why must he choose between the winning or losing side? He scraped off the purple Decepticon brand from his wings for a reason. Yes, this was something that made perfect sense. He was sick and tired of the energy; the booming sound of his engines before each raid. He was tired of the competition and the neverending climb to the highest. He never needed any color in his life: no bold insignia of purple. At one point of his life, he believed it was something he could never let go. Now, his spark was devoted to something greater than any mech could understand. A brotherhood far greater than any political ideology. He had a home to go back to. He has a home where he belongs.
He’s a seeker.