Ep 1.5 Rumble in the house (closed)

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Set the evening of day 1, week 2

Where had he-

Wheeljack frowned, hand searching the workbench for the soldering iron he could have sworn he'd placed somewhere to his right. He didn't take his attention off the circuit boards in front of him. They looked like they were in good enough condition. Maybe he could use the chips for the Jackhammer's on-board computer. There were a few that looked like they needed to be replaced last time he'd taken a look…

A magnetic wrench and screwdriver had been stowed on his forearm plating at some point. A smaller screwdriver adorned his helm, stashed there absently. His hand brushed over a number of scavenged components and tools but didn't find the one he was looking for.

Hmm…

The Wrecker dragged his attention away from his work and peered around for the missing soldering iron, focus lost. Then his surrounding registered and he became more aware of himself, the amount of work he'd been through today already, the time…

It had been a while since he'd last refuelled. Honestly, a break here wouldn't hurt and he could come back with a fresh processor. Wheeljack swept his hands over his frame, making sure to pull off every tool he'd attached to himself at some point. When he was in that sweet state of working and completely immersed in the job, he usually forgot to put back his tools where they belonged and stowed them away on himself. The first time he'd done that, he hadn't pulled them off him afterwards and had to head to the Crystal City's technoversity medbay when he attempted to transform into his alt-mode...

Huh.

That was an old memory. A rare one, too, that he recalled it so clearly. The Wrecker paused for a moment, prodded his damaged memory core but nothing more come to him. Disappointment did not well up inside him, he regarded the unexpected fragment placidly and unemotionally, the way he always did when a piece of his old life came up. There was no pattern to what memories had remained intact and those that had degraded. Without the lost emotional meta tags that had once been attached, he couldn't determine which had been important memories and which hadn't. Maybe this one had survived because it had lead to an ingrained habit.

Eh, whatever. Wheeljack gave a shake of his frame, just in case he'd missed anything. Then he straightened up and strode from his lab, locking the door behind. He'd swing by the rec room and pick up an energon cube or two. Maybe go for a drive after that. Clear his head. He hadn't expected to knock lose an old memory and they sometimes left him off-balance, disquieted by something he couldn't put into words.

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Arcee drummed her digits restlessly upon the crate she seated herself on in the base’s makeshift Rec N’ Refuel Room. A half empty energon cube sat placidly in the other hand as she sat through a random earth program on the oversized and improvised screen that some of the more bored bots cobbled together. She chugged back another gulp of her daily ration.

The two-wheeler had just come off her final patrol for the day in the last hour and was off for the rest of the evening. Normally, she’d hang out with Jack for the rest of the evening, however, Jack was busy studying for exams this week and she was on her own. With the unplanned free time, Arcee was somewhat at a loss at what to do next.

The energon was still running hot in her fuels, but oddly enough Arcee didn’t really feel like heading out for a drive through the desert this time. Instead, the blue femme found herself sitting through a ‘popular’ comedy sitcom, most of which made little sense to her. She half contemplated doing a run through the back halls and see how many times she could leap from wall to wall before gravity forced her back down (or before Red Alert yelled at her for creating a disturbance in the base again).

Arcee’s thoughts got derailed as heavy footsteps echoed through the halls and into the Rec Room. Craning her neck backwards, Arcee caught sight of Wheeljack entering and making his way to the energon dispenser. Excepting a raucous greeting, Arcee frowned slightly when the usually rowdy mech past by without a word. In a way it was disturbing to see the wrecker uncharacteristically subdued.

With little thought (or warning), Arcee lopped her now empty energon cube at the distracted wrecker, “Heads up, Wheeljack!”

“Mind disposing of that for me?” Arcee said coyly, her chin resting on a closed fist.

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Something small flew through the air in Wheeljack's peripheral vision.

Grenade?

“Heads up, Wheeljack!”

No, wait, he was at the Omega base. Wheeljack forced down alarmed combat protocols and ignored the impulse to leap out of the way. His hand flew out and neatly caught the energon cube before it could hit his head.

What the-?

He glanced over to Arcee, optic ridge arched. Almost as quickly as he'd been startled, he calmed down again, the metal pieces on his back relaxing immediately. Wheeljack slid his gaze over to the cube in his hand as he considered her request.

"Well, saves me from having to fetch my own," he said with a shrug. The Wrecker walked over to the dispenser and refilled the cube, before trudging back over to Arcee, pulling up a crate to sit beside her. He figured that if the two-wheeler hadn't wanted the company, she wouldn't have thrown the cube at his head. And while Arcee was one of the Omega base Autobots, she didn't grind his gears the way some of the others did.

"There are easier ways to get my attention, you know," Wheeljack commented dryly with an optic ridge arched at her. He took a sip from his cube then swept his gaze at the screens curiously for a moment before turning his attention back to Arcee. "Unless what you were watching was so boring that you decided you needed the entertainment…?"

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Arcee quietly watched as Wheeljack proceeded to refill the empty cube and join her in the mundane human tradition of TV surfing. Itching a non-existant scratch on her leg plating, she casually responded, "Maybe, but you looked a little stiff walking in here. I figured you could use the reflex training to loosen up?"

Arcee gave Wheeljack a sh*t-eating grin, "and you're right. That was way more entertaining than anything on the TV."

The blue femme wasn't sure why per say, but she was in a fairly, if restless, good mood. As annoying and overbearing as Wheeljack could be at times, she felt a little in common with the solo wrecker than the other bots somedays. "So, how's the lab work? Need a break?" Arcee asked, cupping her chin.

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"That's me," Wheeljack agreed, dryly. "Always guaranteed to be the most interesting thing in the room."

He drained the cube of energon then stretched himself out, sliding down to the floor to slouch strutlessly against the crate. Ratchet no doubt would have had strong words about correct posture if he'd could see the Wrecker right in this very moment. Wheeljack's optics powered off.

"So, how's the lab work?"

The light returned to one optic as Wheeljack squinted through it to peer up at Arcee. "Had a few interesting projects last week," he answered slowly. "Built Fortress Maximus a sword for the hell of it. Before that, there was that twitchy spook, Zoom-Zoom. Finished working on a very nice acid gun that should have been installed in him by now. Though he better make sure he hasn't loaded any ammo next time he breaks that arm or he will probably lose the limb."

He began to power down the remaining optic again. "Don’t have anything that interesting in the works this week beyond sorting out salvage. Lovely, boring work." Wheeljack's deadpan tone conveyed how much he was looking forward to it.

"Need a break?"

At that, he glanced up at Arcee through a speculative, half-shuttered gaze. "Was thinking of going for a drive," Wheeljack replied. "But if you have something else in mind, I might be game."

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The two-wheeler leaned forward in her seat, while meeting Wheeljack’s tired optics. The question itself wasn’t really one of deep interest but rather as a way of easing into relaxed companion conversation, of which she wasn’t always known for.

She pulled her legs up into a tight cross-legged position on her crate, a position that probably make other ‘bots cringe. The femme swayed idly in a slow rocking motion as the wrecker described his many projects ‘o so’ enthusiastically.

"Was thinking of going for a drive."

“Weather’s crudy outside and Ratchet won’t let us ‘waste’ energon to power up the Groundbridge to somewhere nicer.”

"But if you have something else in mind, I might be game."

“I was thinking along the lines of a ‘little’ friendly sparring match,” Arcee’s optics brightened slowly with mischeivous mirth. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid of getting your skidplate kicked by a femme.”

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Wheeljack straightened up with interest at the mention of a spar. It had been a while since he had the kind of company that would be happy to indulge him with a friendly fight.

He snorted. "I don't know what sort of crowd you've been rolling with but I think we both know that being a femme has no impact on being a warrior. You had me at the mention of sparring."

Nimbly, he climbed to his feet. "Where to?"

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Arcee rolled her optics. Straightening out her limbs before they stiffen up, the two-wheeler stood up alongside Wheeljack. One, two, three...pop! She eased the kink forming in her spinal relay while watching the comedy show, most of the humor flying over her processor anyway.

"Where to?"

Giving Wheeljack a mock-fist punch on the shoulder, she replied, "There's an empty backroom three halls down." She moved to leave the rec room, assuming Wheeljack was following her.

"It's not being used, so we don't need to worry about breaking anything important," she looked over her shoulder and gave a slight smirk. "Plus, 'bots will be less likely to complain if we get a little rowdy."

Arcee walked through the maze that was their make-shift base, before coming to the empty hanger. Reaching the center of the room, Arcee whirled around and got into a ready position.

"So, who's going to make the first move?"

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Wheeljack arched an optic ridge when Arcee mock punched him in the shoulder. Other than that, he made no further reaction. He followed her down several hallways to the room she'd mentioned.

"If we get rowdy? If the fight doesn't get rowdy, then we must be doing something wrong."

The Wrecker padded up to in front of Arcee, allowing some distance between the two Bots. He settled into a defensive stance, legs braced and knees apart. "Honestly? I don't really care. You, I guess."

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The very air in the room was stale and flat as they entered, but soon gained a charge from the EM fields of two experienced ‘bots ready to rumble. Arcee quivered with a sudden excited energy that awoke itself since the prospect of a sparing with a ‘bot, who could keep pace with her and return the punches with the same intense edge. In the early days of the war, she’s always have to paced herself with newer recruits for combat training.

Both warriors stood apart in defensive positions, Arcee went in for the first move to get action rolling. She charged him head on at first, before diverting to the right side at the last possible moment and swinging her body around with a series of kicks. Nothing fancy, a mere warm-up with simple street-fighting style exchange of swift punches and kicks.

A fierce grin decorated her face plates. Oh, yea, she hadn’t done this in a while.

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Nothing quite got the energon going like a good fight.

Or a bad one. Or any sort of fight, really.

It was not a physical exhaustion that had crept over Wheeljack's frame and driven him from his lab, more that he was emotionally unsettled. He did not like to be given cause to reflect introspectively upon himself. Better to keep his hands occupied so his mind couldn't wander. His engineering work, when it was interesting, was one way. Fighting was another.

So Wheeljack threw himself fully into the spar and shrugged off the mental fatigue.

Wheeljack let Arcee approach, resting warily on his pedes. He didn't think this would be a straight on charge and he was proven right when she darted to the side at the last second. Arcee was fast, he knew, more so than he was. And even though he knew that the sidestep had to be coming, Wheeljack still nearly missed it.

He pivoted round after her, bringing his fists up defensively to meet her attacks. Wheeljack stepped backwards as he attempted to keep up and block her flurry of blows, allowing Arcee to drive him back and onto the defensive.

For now, the Wrecker was content to let Arcee lead, giving him a feel of her fighting style and technique. It was a kinda odd feeling actually, Wheeljack was usually the quicker combatant in a fight and he'd use that advantage for what it was worth, piling attacks on his opponent and trying to reduce the opportunity for them to attack back.

This, Wheeljack could already tell and he smirked, was going to be an interesting fight.

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Arcee kept up the unrelenting barrage of kick and punch combos, teasing him with a few light taps to see if it would throw him off guard. She knew he was still holding back quite a bit, despite the steady onslaught she threw in his direction. His EMF carried a rather relaxed if excited pulse that charged the air when her own field overlapped his.

However, the two-wheeler wasn’t put off by his so far of lack of engagement at all. If anything, she took advantage of the opportunity to work out the last of physical kinks, stretching the linkage, and allowing her frame to work in complete sync to achieve the optimal efficiency her frame designer had envisioned. She also initiated the mental practices taught to her from her Crystalocution studies as she continued to press Wheeljack through the empty storeroom.

Not unlike Wheeljack, Arcee also had her reasons for wanting to spar with a compentant fighter, aside from an energon-pulsing session. The mental discipline and focus alone helped in keeping her own demons and painful flashbacks at bay.

Arcee soon felt her mind clearing of stray and distracting thoughts as she settled into the familiar mindset of utter focus of the here and now. Every detail of shadow and light played out before her, she could see - if not feel - every movement Wheeljack made as he made it and react to it accordingly.

The blue femme failed utterly at achieving this state through the traditional use of meditation her martial art practices required during her studies. Which is why Arcee only ever actually succeed into entering the advanced level of mental clarity during the physical training aspect.

Unfortunately, in the heat of battle against the Decepticons, Arcee’s lower simmering anger and boiling emotions drive her actions more so, preventing her from reaching the same skill level of the Crystalocution and Tekkaido Masters. However, in a controlled spar (depending on your definition of control with these two) with another skilled fighter capababile of pushing her abilities, Arcee could do so for a few moments at a time.

The dying faces of Tailgate and Cliffjumper suddenly seem more distant.

As the two-wheeler whirled around Wheeljack with another round of alternating combo of kicks and punches, Arcee performed a precision strike to a metal stress point on the Wrecker’s upper arm. Not enough pressure to do any damage, but enough to get his attention.

“Enough playtime, Wrecker,” Arcee said with a steady, cool and confident voice. An inviting crooked grin decorated her features. “Let’s get real.”

The whoosh of cold hard metal sliding from her forearms sounded through the room.

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Arcee was fast, just like he thought.

But there was a lot of power contained within that deceptive frame too. That he'd never doubted or thought twice about. The bike bot had warrior stamped all over her, both in her bearing and in her make. Wheeljack had never dabbled in the trade of designing Cybertronian frames but he had the optics of an engineer and the long experience of a soldier, you got to notice the difference between mecha who'd been made for a fight and those that had been rebuilt into one.

Wheeljack himself fell into the later category. Though in truth, there was little difference between his frame now and the one he had back at the Technoversity. Science types back then generally didn't wander about with near heavy grade plating but when the guy who had the job before you caused explosions on a regular basis before perishing in one, well, that's how you get commissioned with your own special blast armour.

But it didn't matter what you were constructed from if you didn't know how to move with your frame. That was something Wheeljack saw rebuilds struggle with on occasion, floundering at suddenly having a different, often bigger or more heavily armoured, body. It was part of the reason why Wheeljack had taken so well to being a soldier, that his frame had required so little adjustment. Even so, most of his combat training had been on the job, learnt in the middle of a firefight or a brawl or what little downtime with his teammates. What worked he kept, what didn't was quickly abandoned before it got him killed. It was a form all of his own making, self taught and as customised as any piece of tech that had spent any time within his servos.

Arcee, on the other servo, had that inherent grace of a sparked fighter, all calm control and efficient strikes. He was pretty sure that she was using was some form of martial art but Wheeljack hadn't the knowledge to even guess what. He was not ashamed to entertain the possibility that Arcee might be a better fighter than him, his ego had a healthy amount of respect for any experienced combatant.

He let himself be pushed back across the room by Arcee's relentless flurry of punches and kicks. Wheeljack sunk into focussing on blocking those quick strikes. It was...pleasant to not be thinking about anything in particular, just keeping up with Arcee move for move. When the two wheeler finally got through his guard, hitting with him enough force to let him know that the fight was about to ramp up but not enough to cause any actual damage, he was almost disappointed to leave that empty state of mind.

"Enough playtime, Wrecker. Let’s get real."

"You only had to ask," he smirked, mentally centring himself as he switched gears from defensive to offensive. His stance became less guarded , Wheeljack straightened up, then made good on the invitation Arcee had given him, kicking off on his right foot as he charged her. The charge ended up melting into a sliding tackle on approach as he threw caution to the wind and decided to go in low.

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“You only had to ask.” That smirk. That cocky cool tone. That’s more like the lone wolf Wheeljack she’d come to know, since he’d officially joined the team.

Then came the moment she’d been waiting for, the subtle shift in his stance. The fluid yielding Wheeljack exercised when Arcee initially set the pace turned into a raging force prepared to bowl her over. The charge came fast and sudden and while Wheeljack was hardly the bulkiest nor heaviest of mechs, but for her, a tackle from him would knock her silly three days from Friday.

Meh. She held her ground with Megatron on more than one occasion. Wheeljack’s driving kick did force the two-wheeler back several feet to buy herself some distance. Still facing the wrecker and with her back to the wall, Arcee planted her left against the wall, pushing off, and propelling her through the air above Wheeljack’s reach.

At least she had intended to leap clear over Wheeljack, instead her trajectory fell short. Arching her body, Arcee’s out stretched arms came down first and planted firmly a mere second on Wheeljack's left shoulder to push off into another somersault to clear some distance.