Ep 0 - Mad Muscle Cars - Closed

Bee, despite the limits on his verbal patterning due to speech loss, was still an expressive bot. His EMF described in complex crisscrosses of frequency and intensity the arrangement of his emotions at any given time and more so than most Bots on the simple grounding that he didn’t have words to rely on like he used to. The beautiful arabesques of Cybertronian language failed in his busted vocalizer so he relied on other dialects, of energy and empathy and electromagnetics.

So right now it would be evident to all how paint-strippingly, spark-clenchingly,mad he was just then. He couldn’t think straight through his rage. It had come suddenly, furiously, like a viral outbreak in his brain and rage was not a feeling it was a disease and he was sick with it. He stormed through the back corridors, headed for the deeper catacombs of the base where he and his violent frequencies could be alone lest he run into Dipper and have round two of Bot Bashing Bonanza like before.

He was so mad he didn’t see Shadowrunner or catch her in the spectrum of his own sensor array until he, very nearly, ran into the black Impala. He jerked back, chirp-whirring, ‘Hey watch where you’re… oh… Shadow.’ His door wings drooped a little. ‘Sorry. I just…’ finished yelling at Optimus. ‘…was heading to my quarters. The thing with Barricade…’ He trailed off, no explanations needed.

Bee tried to torque down how he felt but he was having trouble with it when Shadow’s own frequencies were so invitingly similar to his own, a jagged collage of EM waves that ran backwards against his own field, flared hot and cold with some complex emotion he didn’t have the awareness just then to examine and gone too fast to look at. Bee realized he was shaking with rage only when he heard it, that violent rattle buzz of metal that seemed specific to his frame type – making his plating sing with the force of his rage just thinking about his conversation with Optimus, the sense that he was wrong slammed against the knowledge he was right.

‘He was going to kill him. Optimus, I mean, to Barricade… at least, I think so.’ Bee said this but he thought, Primus, when did the death of a mech come to be comfort to us? He whirred softly, trying to stop the rage in his spark from superheating his systems. The Camero dropped his optics to the floor, chirping softly. ‘So he didn’t just… let him go.’

‘No,’ said Bee who would never admit how grateful he was for Shadow’s easy familiarity with Basic, how it was a language to her, a familial dialect instead of a sign something was wrong and a suggestion that something was really wrong. Broken. Glitched. Hacked. She did not hear those things in his voice when he spoke and that among other things calmed the uneven dips and spikes in his EMF to a more even calm. The Camaro ex-vented with difficultly, wrestling with the nest of heat and anger in his chest so intense it was more like a physical shard of cherry-red metal inside him, heating him up inside.

‘I’m so mad at him. I’ve never been this mad at Optimus, ever. I shouldn’t be this mad I just…’ Bee stared at the back of his hand, turned it palm up. ‘I don’t know. It’s like I can’t remember how to forgive him this time.’ And that, more than anything, scared him. 'It's like I forgot how...'

‘It’s not about giving him a pass, but I don’t… I don’t feel right. I feel mad but it’s not like… not like I should be mad.’

It was hard to explain in Basic. He was angry and purely angry. Bumblebee was objective enough to realize that there was something wrong with the scope of origin of his anger. He was mad. He could feel his oiwn confusion and betrayal and frustration that made his spark clench in his chest to the point of physical pain, the panic that no matter what he did, what data he scouted – how many times he let Megatron rip him apart in the dreamscape – he would be rewarded by nothing but philosophic slag. Objectively, he knew Optimus had at least intended to execute Barricade for his crimes against Cybertron but all he could feel was the betrayal and the heat of that rage was… dizzying. An animalistic seethe that was very nearly crippling.

Talking to Shadow, being away from Optimus, helped but… ‘He didn’t mean to.’ How do you know that though? How do you know his stupid ethical obsession isn’t costing us everything? How do you know he isn’t martyring us all? ‘I shouldn’t… he’s our Prime, Shadow. I trust him.’ Really? I do. And where did that get us? ‘Have you ever had someone you trusted… do something like this, Shadow?’

Bee just started blankly for a moment EMF flat with horror. Barricade had said those things to her? When? During her guard shift? ‘None of that’s true!’ snapped Bee furiously. ‘Barricade is a liar/killer/con-bot and all he does is tell lies. It’s what he does! He can talk/trick/confuse a loyal Bot into betrayal just by knowing a little bit about them. Whatever he said, you shouldn’t believe/buy it. He was shivering visibly with anger, armor chattering furiously against his endo-structure, but the heat in his EMF passed quickly as he thought about her question.

‘I don’t know. I’m just fragged off at Prime right now. I guess… I guess I feel guilty about it, but not really. Barricade is a monster and he should have been terminated today. Whatever he does/whoever he hurts next…’ It’s Prime’s fault. ‘…it’s a betrayal to all of us.’

Bee didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at the ground for a long time before looking back up at Shadowrunner, his field taking on an entirely new pitch and flux – unsteady and slightly afraid. His Basic went very quiet as he spoke now, the frequency off his frame a far more timid wavelength than it had been just moments before – devoid now of anger. Blue optics flickered a little unsteadily.

‘Shadow, do you think I… that I’m acting like Megatron?’ He cycled his vents a little, buzzing sadly, door-wings drooping low with a nausea mix of shame and dread. ’I yelled at Optimus. The stuff I’m saying/I said… I couldn’t stop myself and I can’t stop being mad. I don’t know if it’s just me anymore now. Bulk said I might be… like… if this is a subversion of my gestalt links then I’m taking on his emotional sub-routines/feedback…’

He looked at her. ‘You’re always honest, Shadow. Just tell me. Should I be in the brig?’

Bee shot his fellow muscle car a kind of watery smile through EMF, grateful for the words, the proximity, and the solidarity of having another intell bot around, however different their original functions may have been, eons working in the field of intelligence gathering at least gave them like-minded priorities. Their methodologies may not align all the time (usually), but Bee stood on this common ground with her at least. He chirp whirred quietly, glancing at her.

‘Thanks, Shadow. You can throw me in the brig anytime… well, okay. Only when I’m being a glitch.’ A small chuckle. ‘You understand.’