[ti]Ep 2[/ti] - Simon Says - [Closed]

[Optimus Prime]

Episode 2 | Week 4 | Day 3

The truce meant many things had changed, and many other things would be put into effect the longer that time went on. New plans, new daily routines, new jobs and new things to learn. It also meant that interactions with the opposite faction would be far more common, and aimed in a way to converse more so than rip into one another. It was a lot to get accustomed to. But... just because there was a truce, didn't mean they could afford to get lazy.

While Optimus didn't follow the same arks of preparation and paranoia that his Security Director was prone to, he was no fool and took precautions of his own to prepare for the day that everything toppled apart like a tower of cards. He knew that no matter how well they all played nice, that hostilities ran too deep to be quelled by one mutual enemy for long. All it would take was one flick, and all they built up would be gone in an instant.

He wished this wasn't the case, he wished that a true truce would be formed... but Optimus knew the very day that Megatron contacted him and offered this concept, that it was just an act of convenience. It is because of that he kept many of his routines the same. While some tasks had to be shelved for now, his practice to keep himself continuously geared to fight at any notice remained in play.

There were not many that could stand toe to toe with Megatron for long. Many of his soldiers have tried, and many were slaughtered through this war. There were also however, a few within this very base, that have tried and held their own barely long enough for backup to arrive and help. Optimus knew he was a very small minority that could hold their own, and he knew that to slack off or not be ready for this skirt with death itself would result in his demise.

So he trained.

While the largest of rooms within the current subsection had been populated with shelving eventually, and their meager supplies and resources were stored away, it still left a few vacant rooms that held no current purpose. While space was cherished and needed, choosing a function for the spaces was more than a kneejerk response, and had to be considered before time and effort was invested into the task. As such, many were just adapted as needed for various tasks or sometimes games among the team. For today, Optimus commandeered one of the vacant rooms on the far side, ample distance from others.

One by one powerful punches were thrown into the open air with sharp strikes that were extended and then pulled back into a defensive posture, his grey hands curled into a solid fist while doing so. The Prime's stance was wide, peds planted down from one another at shoulder width, with his right foot leading forward a short distance. His knees were bent marginally, breaking the taunt posture he typically held to add more maneuverability as if he were ready to dodge an incoming strike that simply was not going to arrive.

Each time he punched, he acted as though there truly was something to strike other than open air, the hydraulics in his frame compressing violently to throw the full force of his power behind it. These harder strikes were broken up occasionally by swifter jabs, or a stance and posture change to carry himself a stride or two to one side or another.

Back on Cybertron, he had far more things available to him when it came to this practice. They had appropriate tools and objects that could handle the immense strikes that Cybertronian could create, and projections to help hone an ability to dodge by delivering false strikes back that if failed would not cause pain. There was also the fact that back then, he had the option of working with others around his own size or larger, that helped expand his knowledge on the skill he never desired to have in the first place. Here? On Earth? He had no such things.

No tools, no illusions, nothing unless he wanted to strike a fist into the cavernous rock wall of the base, and while punching Megatron may feel like that sometimes, he didn't desire to ruin his hands with such a frivolous thing. He also didn't have the option of sparring with others. Those who were around his size were few and far between, and he did not wish to unintentionally harm any of them in the process. It is because of this, he trained alone, shadowboxing to keep his systems primed and ready should a real fight come to surface.

[Bumblebee]

To say that it'd been a long, non-stop week for Bumblebee was putting it lightly.

In just one short week he'd found out there was a truce between Autobots and Decepticons. He'd got himself a stray cat, which he'd named Onion. He'd quickly grown attached to the cute bundle of fur in the short time he had him.. Sadly however, no sooner had he gotten used to the little guy being around? He'd had to give him up. There was no place for such a tiny organic at the Omega Base.. Which Bumblebee could understand, but he was quietly hurting over it still. He'd helped retrieve Wheeljack's ship. Did a wait 'n' bait mission. Met a new recruit. Ran into Megatron at the DMZ. Questioned a lot of things during his meeting with Megatron that he was still dwelling over. And to top it all off, just yesterday he'd ran into another Decepticon, Breakdown. The truce had brought many changes, ones that Bee was still getting used to. Running into two Decepticons in one week was enough, truce or not.

Bumblebee would never outwardly complain about having to work with the Decepticons, or whine about being tired from a long week. He loved working hard. He loved helping his team! But he could definitely be forgiven for wanting to spend a day at the Omega Base recharging and having some much needed relaxation time. After this week? He'd earned it!

He was a younger Autobot, one of the last-sparked, and somewhat childlike with playful mannerisms when he wasn't working. The things that he liked to do for fun and in his downtime reflected this. He was often found infront of the TV watching cartoons or playing video games, and if he wasn't doing that? He was reading comics. The rest of his kind were above such trivial human things that they saw as a waste of time, but Bumblebee enjoyed losing himself in them – the distraction was nice, and sometimes needed.

Sadly for Bumblebee, he sometimes couldn't do any of these things until Raf was done with school. TV during the daytime was all boring adult shows, which while they could be somewhat entertaining for some, Bee found them to be a snore-fest. And reading comics was WAY more fun when Raf was there! They'd act out the parts, doing silly voices and sometimes making props out of slag around the base. He couldn't do that with anyone else. The other humans didn't understand him, the other Autobots were too 'mature' to hang with Bumblebee when he wanted to play and mess around. There were some that would probably humor him for a while, but he knew they'd get bored quickly, or judge him for being so silly.

Bee wouldn't let it get him down, however. He had an over-active imagination and could entertain himself! Either until he had to go fetch Raf from school, or someone yelled at him for slacking off and gave him something useful to do. Whichever came first. He knew the perfect way to pass time, and where to do it!

The Omega Outpost still had a few rooms that weren't being used, which meant they were perfect for Bee to play pretend. It was 'training' without really training, and he could have things to talk to Raf about later. Maybe Raf could help him continue with his story once he was done with his homework!

--This is Bumblebee. I'm on my way. Over.--

He muttered this to himself quietly, as if speaking covertly over a comm channel; moving from his meager little quarters and down the corridors toward his destination. He'd edge along the walls, sticking close to them as he moved swiftly, field full of alertness, his brilliant blue optics wide as he looked around. His energon blasters were out, not that he'd ever fire them indoors, that'd be silly! But it was part of his immersion. He'd stop at a corner, his back flush against the wall as he peeked around it cautiously, poking around further with one of the blasters to make sure everything was good.

--All clear. No sign of MECH. Still moving to target location. What's your status? Over.--

He'd slink around the corridors, not really caring if anyone happened to see him. He wouldn't pay attention to anyone even if they did; he was in his own little game and world now, and he planned to see this mission through to the end! At each turn he'd stop, peek around, make sure it was safe to go on, before continuing.

--Almost at target location. Do you read? Over.--

He wasn't sure why he was saying 'Over' after everything – he'd picked that up from a TV show about humans in war, they'd say it after the end of every broadcast. It made it sound more official, so he would continue to do it.

He was now in the corridor that was in the quieter, more unused part of the Omega Base. He came here a lot when he wanted to shadow box, or if he and Raf were being a little too noisy with their comic-book-acting. Some still saw the human kids as a pest, but Bee saw them as his friends. Raf being his best friend. Which meant he was more than happy to entertain out of ear-shot, as not to annoy the others who resided here.

He would spin quickly, both blasters pointed out as he walked backwards down the corridor.

--They snuck up on me! Requesting backup! Come in! I'm falling back! There's too many of- Aah!--

His voice was louder, although not a yell – he didn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself when he was playing pretend. Nor did he want anyone to get the wrong idea and think they were actually under attack. He'd continue to back up, making fake blasting movements with his arms, as if attacking multiple unseen foes. He'd duck and dodge from side to side, not that there was anything to hide behind in the corridor, but he would weave around quickly, dodging 'blasts' and attacks from whatever foe he was fighting against.

He'd moved up the corridor far enough to be visible from the doorway to the room where there was another of his kind. He made a quick glance to whoever it was, then a double take. He tensed up quickly, as if in shock.

The Prime.

Slag, he hoped that Optimus hadn't heard him playing pretend by himself. The energon blasters would quickly shift back into their compartments in his arms, and he'd stand and watch Optimus for a moment. The Prime seemed focused, which was to be expected; and Bee watched in awe. He'd never seen Optimus training before, and for a moment considered making a beeline out of there just incase the Prime didn't want to be bothered or seen. He was probably down here for a reason, afterall. 

But Bee couldn't help himself, and would shift his stance into one of a fighter, arms up infront of himself. He wouldn't move from the doorway unless invited in or shoo'd away. His attention on Optimus' movements. As Optimus punched? Bee would copy, curled servos punching the air. He knew how to box, and it was his preferred style of fighting! But there was something about the way Optimus – his hero – did it, that made him want to copy, to learn more. Bee was small and his style of fighting was probably a little different to that of Optimus. So here he would stand, mimicking his hero and trying to be as quiet as he could as not to disturb.

[Optimus Prime]

One strike, two, three. Optimus kept up the rhythm on what he was doing, content to focus in on it and see if he could push himself enough to start to feel tired and challenge his systems. He knew for a war upgraded frame like his own, this could take some time without a real target in place, the buildup of heat in the joints and mechanics a slow one unless he really forced excessive amounts of force behind his mock punches. But to do so he could lose out on some of the finesse and the proper angle needed in a real fight, meaning if it were a real situation he could hurt himself by doing an improper strike with muscle memory alone.

It was while he worked, he thought he heard someone talking down the hall.

The concrete and stone pathways of the lower level could carry sound much further than the upper floors, allowing the softer voice to drift down and slip between the rooms and halls. Its light echoes and bounces made it indistinguishable as words, but distinct enough to discern it was made by an individual and not the natural noises of the underground. It honestly was something to ignore and cast aside, it none of his business what others were up to on their spare time, and it not his intention to eavesdrop, pushing himself to focus in on his own task and let them do what it was they were doing. This said, as the voice grew nearer and more distinct, it was near impossible to ignore, sounds cutting through the otherwise silent environment like a blade with diverse trills and whistles of the unmistakable voice.

It seemed Bumblebee, was doing... something... and if Optimus had only heard the context alone and not the tone of voice, he may have been concerned. This said, despite bumblebee seeming to request 'backup', it was all some sort of ruse, and more play than anything else. As silly was the entire thing was, as immature as it could be seen by many, it instantly caused a swell of different emotions within Optimus, finding it a mixed grab bag of thoughts about the last sparked.

The Prime remembered what it was like to be young, to be idealistic and engage in more youthful adventures and games. Despite Cybertronian not having a true child phase like a human, it was hard to say there was not some kind of youth in play for many. Learning of the world around them outside of raw data ported into their processors, and building their own paths and goals within their personality. Optimus, or more Orion, had been pushed rather quickly into his role as a moderator, and despite doing his job as clean cut as any other due to the knowledge gifted to him, he could remember the earlier memories of his days interacting with others of his age group and discovering just what the world had to offer in game and drink. He had then quickly settled into the Orion some had known before the War, this phase short lived and brief.

Which is where some sadness came into play.

Bumblebee was such a youthful soul, that deserved to interact with others like him outside of war. He deserved so much better than this world Optimus had helped make, and there was no denying that. He wished that there was something he could do to amend this, but he was doing all he could, and the damage had already been wrought. Alas, the hushed yells were followed up by a small scuffle, only to end up with the bright yellow mech cutting into the side of his vision within the doorway.

Optimus didn’t stop what he was doing right away, his strikes continuing for a moment figuring that Bumblebee would continue on to play and disregard him. He was just an older mech practicing, and it couldn't have been that entertaining to watch or really humor. He was proven wrong though when he quickly noticed out of the corner of his optic that Bumblebee was... mirroring him?

Slowing down a bit, Optimus lifted his forearms up in front of himself in a guarded stance, holding it a moment while glancing over at Bumblebee. When the young mech mirrored this action, he followed through and made the strike, watching the way Bee tried to mimic it properly.

"It is difficult to discern details from such a distance."

He spoke in a warm tone, inviting, showing no animosity or frustration at being disturbed. Optimus' field lowly radiated kindness and amusement, the silent language normally dead as a soft background noise of a presence rather than showing much in means of emotion. But... while Bumblebee looked up to him as some hero, Optimus saw the scout as one to guide and help, having known since the moment he picked up the little one at Tiger Pax that he was bound for great things, and would serve at his side for many years to come.

Orion never understood what Alpha Trion saw in him, but he could understand what that feeling may have been like when he looked down upon Bumblebee. The youthful soul forged in war and still true to whom they were despite the world trying to push them to conform to another path. It was something to be admired.

"You may join me if you wish."

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee was enjoying this, even from out here in the corridor. He got to witness the one he looked upto most as he trained; without getting in the way or bothering him. The last thing Bumblebee ever wanted to do was get in anybodies way, hence why he kept mostly to himself at the Omega Base. Being a younger Autobot he often found it hard to fit in, and he didn't have many things in common with the others who resided at the base, and often felt like a nuisance. He felt looked down upon sometimes because he didn't really have the life experience of others, and what he did for fun wasn't exactly what others deemed entertaining.

He took note of the way Optimus lifted his arms, and would copy. He'd adjust his posture just slightly, bending one leg a little further to be in a similar pose to the one he was mirroring. Then would punch out at the air in front of him, just as the Prime had. Bee was so focused on his own movements; making sure that he was doing this right, that he hadn't noticed the side glance made his way - nor had he even realized that Optimus had infact caught onto the fact that he was being watched.

Then Optimus spoke.

Busted!!

There was an abrupt moment of panic, like he'd been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't be doing. It flooded briefly into his field, and his optics would widen, the door-wings fluttering on his back nervously as he looked at Optimus like a deer caught in headlights. He hadn't meant to be a bother, or to interrupt! He dropped his arms to his sides and stood up straight and alert, as a sign of respect to the Prime. He heard the words first, then it took a moment to register the tone of which it was spoken. He didn't sound mad, which was a relief. Then the last thing that Optimus said sank in.

Join him? He was being invited to join the Prime?

At boxing?

He glanced over his shoulder quickly. Surely Optimus was talking to someone else. Someone more worthy of sparring alongside him. Not that the Prime ever looked down on anyone, and Bee was ridiculous for even thinking that the Prime would do such a thing to him; but he couldn't help but think that Optimus was talking to another. Everyone else seemed to brush Bee off, so to be invited over? He couldn't be blamed for thinking someone else had come along as well.

There was nobody there. Optimus was talking to him. He'd look back and nod.

There was a different emotion in his field now, one that he'd quickly try to cover up with excitement. He was nervous. If he were a human he'd probably be experiencing that 'butterflies in your stomach' feeling that they got sometimes when they were excited or nervous; Raf had mentioned it once, and Bumblebee found it to be a funny mental image!

The thought of butterflies fluttering around in his internals distracted him enough so that his own nervousness would fade. However it would linger underneath a layer of this newfound excitement and eagerness at getting to train with the Prime. There was something about joining Optimus while he trained that felt like such a prestigious honor, even if it was nothing of the sort – or at least, Optimus probably wouldn't see it as such.

He relaxed his stiff posture, rolling his shoulders and stepping into the room, making his way over to Optimus. He couldn't help but salute once he made his way over; that was what he was used to doing, and it was a force of habit. He didn't want to be seen as slacking off, even on this off day of his after a horrible long week.

--I didn't mean to interrupt, Optimus! I just saw that you were boxing and... I'm always up for learning new techniques! I'm a fan of boxing, too, so I couldn't help but watch how you did stuff!--

Bee was always trying to better himself. To be more useful to his team. Even though he had his own boxing skills honed and to a level that he thought would be hard to match; and he knew that Optimus knew of his fighting skills? He was almost positive that Optimus could teach him a new trick or two, and he was oh so very eager and willing to learn from the best.

[Optimus Prime]

Oh, so Bumblebee was hoping to not be seen?

The truth of this thought had become painfully apparent in the way the young scout moved and reacted to realizing that he had been not only spotted, but called out upon. The nervous ripple through his field, the straighter posture and hiked up door paneling's that flickered anxiously in their posts... it all screamed of having not planned on being spotted. But... in such an enclosed environment, and with how bright the other Cybertronian's colors were, Optimus would have been hard pressed to not notice Bumblebee mirroring him in the doorway for any stretch of time ((Especially when he had punctuated his entrance with chatter beforehand)). It would have shown exceptionally poor situational awareness on Optimus' part if he had neglected the scouts presence for any length of time. Or rudeness... which was something he could sometimes be blamed of harboring at times due to his blunt nature when it came to denying games and most humor.

Falling into a more comfortable stance, Optimus' upper frame raised up higher from the hunched combat posture he had been previously holding. Relaxed. Calm. Cyan optics followed Bumblebee's train of thought from denial of it being addressed to him, to a confused nod trying to mask over the anxious nervousness he seemed to be feeling. Bumblebee should know he had value! And that he need not consider himself below such an invitation. Optimus would have likely offered this to anyone who he caught mirroring his actions!

Ok maybe not Thundercloud...

It was then the young Cybertronian approached, and saluted, a needless motion Optimus didn't require around the base for more casual interactions. This was especially true around those that have walked at his side for so very long like Bumblebee, crossing over into new territory. As if on intuitive response, the Prime's hand reached up casually to dismiss the salute, a soft gesture to show that this was not a situation that required formalities. It wasn't a forceful notion however, knowing that many saw his position as something that deserved said respect no matter how casual and broken away from protocol it may be, and he understood this.

As Prime, he held a great deal of both social and to some religious importance, the former reinforced by his stance as a Wartime leader and standing commander of the Autobots as a whole, and the later due to the Matrix that rested before his spark. There would always be formalities, always the need by some to show such things, and it was a futile battle to assume that those around him that knew him better would give up on such things. But... he would take the over formal approach, over a team that disrespected his ranking any given day.

"There is no better way to learn, than by working with others."

If Bumblebee was really looking to learn, there was much Optimus could try to offer. He had been taught how to fight from an individual larger than himself, and the majority of people in the Decepticon fleet were going to be larger than Bumblebee. This said, it was an unstated fact that Bee had to have some considerable skill under his belt already to survive as long as he had, a skill Optimus has observed out on the field time and time again, so this wasn't even remotely going to be starting from square one.

Moving to fully face Bumblebee as he entered the room, Optimus' heavy ped planted down solidly against the concrete flooring below with a dull thud, his stance now angled more towards the young scout. It was only when he was fully facing him, that he held both of his hands up, palm flat. It wasn't a passive motion, but more one to catch or ready to grasp an incoming strike within his palms, the limbs lowered down reasonably far to accommodate for their rather pointed height difference.

Optimus made sure to seem lax and non aggressive, not wishing to imply he was going to... grapple with Bumblebee as if they were even remotely close to the same frame size. If Bumblebee had been anxious before, there was a high chance that such an implication could spook him, or make him more determined... who knew. The little scout was a stubborn thing when he put his mind to it. Alas, Optimus was doing this to catch punches, and observe, effectively taking the place of a punching bag with his open palms.

"Show me?"

Inviting and amused. Seeing Bumblebee fight out in a battle was one thing, only really having time to notice that he had a fast paced boxing style that relied on both hands and legs to accomplish his intended goal, but seeing it in a controlled environment was another. He could really understand just what he did here, and see if there even was anything he could share that would be beneficial and not put a limp in a product that was already fully functional.

[Bumblebee]

As his salute was gently dismissed, Bumblebee would drop his arm to his side; although he was still fairly rigid and not fully relaxed just yet; and it was unlikely he would get to that point, given the circumstance! Even though he was more than used to the Prime after the many, many years they'd known each other; there was something about being alone with him that made Bee want to be on his best behavior and remain formal with his mannerisms. The amount of respect he had for the other was immeasurable, and he hadn't actually interacted with the Prime one on one like this in... Well, he couldn't remember the last time. They'd last worked together when they encountered Skyquake, but that was a mission. That was work. This? This was more informal, and he wasn't quite sure how to act. This was no time for play, but it also wasn't the time for being overly serious either. But he couldn't help it – even more so now, since Optimus had probably heard him playing pretend like some kind of sparkling!

He didn't want Optimus to think he spent all his time playing and messing around! He was one of the hardest workers at the Omega Base! Well, aside from Red Alert, but he didn't count.. That mech barely ever slept! Which as far as Bee was concerned was an unfair advantage.

This honestly wasn't as awkward as he first thought it might've been after being busted mirroring Optimus – the Prime's body language, tone of voice and field were all more than welcoming, and while Bee was still nervous? He'd do his best not to show it. It'd no doubt fade once they started sparring, anyway. This may have been a casual setting but he couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to do his best and impress his hero, so was putting a lot of unneeded pressure on himself – hence the overly formal attitude and the unnecessary salute.

He'd bob his helm as Optimus turned to face him, tilting it curiously as the Prime raised his servos. He'd nod again, more eagerly this time as he understood what was going on. Alright! He'd shift into a fighting stance of his own; one leg behind him, the other slightly bent infront. His own servos curled into fists and held up infront of himself – just like he'd done only moments earlier in the corridor. His optics narrowed some as he concentrated.

He wasn't spooked by Optimus' movements or stance, not taking it as one of aggression. He was actually more determined to do his best now that this was actually happening! He was going to spar with the Prime. With his hero! If he were a little taller he would've gone in for a grapple, jumping right into this to show just what he could do; while keeping himself humble of course, because this was the Prime. There was a time and place for showing off and being a cocky aft, and going up against Optimus in a spar wasn't it. As it happened? He was much shorter, and had been mildly concerned about how they'd even manage this, but luckily Optimus seemed to have it under control and took the lead.

--I gotta say, it's nice to spar with someone else for once! Been ages since I sparred with anyone, so thank ya for letting me join in while ya trained, here's hopin' I aint outta practice,-- He chirped happily, quickly jabbing a punch at Optimus' right servo as he spoke.

He was holding back and it was painfully obvious as such - he wasn't quite sure at this point what level of force he should use. That level of nervousness was still there and it briefly flickered into his field after his servo made contact with the other mech's palm. While he knew he probably wouldn't hurt Optimus with his hits, the fact it was the Prime had him overly cautious and more timid with his punches and movements than he normally would be going against someone in a spar. If it were anyone else he'd be fine. But he found himself hesitating.

--Shadow boxing by yaself gets so borin' and repetitive after a while!-- That wasn't a hint. As much as he would love to have Optimus as a regular sparring partner – the Prime no doubt had better things to do, plus there was the whole... Height difference issue. While Optimus could take a few full force punches from Bee (not that he would ever do that), the smaller Scout wouldn't be able to help Optimus effectively with his own technique and movements due to being smaller and much lighter frame. He did wonder if Optimus had a training partner, though.

He'd duck, pulling his arm back and quickly sprung forwards to jab another light punch; at Optimus' left servo this time. He probably should be putting more force into his punches, then he could get critique on them – but he couldn't help but hold back. Maybe he really was out of practice.

[Optimus Prime]

'Spar' was really a bold word. Optimus didn’t intend to technically spar with Bumblebee for multiple reasons, the most notable being the fact that he would honestly down the little Cybertronian with one well placed blow, or end up hurting him in some horrible way. No... Optimus had no intent to exchange blows readily, but he did want to see what Bumblebee was capable of, and see if there was anything he could do to guide or help since the scout seemed eager to mimic and learn. It is because of this he offered his open palms as a makeshift punching bag, waiting to observe the stance Bee would take, or the angle he would try to throw the strike.

Bumblebee's words felt like odd small talk to Optimus, the end bits of it not really making sense to him. The scout had plenty of practice against Decepticons on a rather regular basis, and would not be rusty in any sense of the word as far as he was concerned. He was skilled, practiced, and could box and move with agility Optimus couldn't replicate with his much larger and heavy frame. Then again it could have been just that... odd small talk to mask over nervousness and anxiousness and fill a void of silence that otherwise would be in play. Could also be trying to come up with an excuse if he wasn't 'good enough' to remain guarded. This alone was proven by the little spike of nervousness that rippled through Bee's field when his fist collided finally with Optimus' palm.

The strike was underwhelming, and Optimus knew Bumblebee wasn't putting much behind it. Either he was so nervous and anxious he forgot what he was doing, or he was scared to hurt him which... shouldn’t be a fear. He has caught Megatron's punches in the middle of their fights, and those were strikes that could tear off limbs if you didn't do it correctly. Alas, Bumblebee bounced back with a good avoidance posture, and then came back in to hit his other palm with another light jab.

"Many new Autobots roam these halls. I do not doubt one would enjoy training with you."

Optimus was not an overly conversational individual, he tended to not engage in idle chitchat, and said only what was needed for the moment and seldom more. It didn't mean he was completely incapable of such social interactions, but it just wasn't really who he was, and the clash of personalities often showed when interacting with the chattier types. After the softer comment was made about the numerous new members of the Omega Outpost, he shifted the subject marginally to what was happening here and now.

As the scout's fist collided with his palm a third time, Optimus' fingers curled down swiftly to catch the punch entirely, instantly halting its movements and locking his fist in place. The grip wasn't overtly powerful, it didn't crush down onto the young mech's hand, but he wanted to show that he was more than capable of taking a punch, and had the strength and power that Bumblebee wasn't going to be able to hurt him. Only exception would be is if he aimed completely wrong, and put a full force punch into the outer edge of his pinky finger to break it backwards... but... that likely wouldn't happen. Either way, his field remained neutral and warm, to try to counter any alarm having his fist grabbed could incur.

"You needn't concern yourself with harming me, Bumblebee. Aim beyond my palm and do not hold back."

After this encouragement, he let go and held his palms up again, his weight shifting a bit to get more comfortable in his slightly hunched posture. After his weight settled into place, he thought about the situation further, comparing their clashing personality types. Expecting Bumblebee to just be... ok with the silence wasn't going to help with the anxiety he seemed to be showing, so Optimus continued to speak, initializing his own 'small talk'.

"Where did you learn?"

An honest question and one he didn't fully know the answer to. He wondered if it was an Autobot from back in the day who had shown him the ropes, or if it was a trial by fire and he learned by experience out on the field. Either way can effectively train someone, but the later had far more openings for death than the prior... but being forged in the flames of war often produced some of the best and most capable individuals. Perhaps Bumblebee harbored a mix of both, adding atop his determination and resolve to survive all these years. Only Bee could settle this curiosity.

[Bumblebee]

When Bumblebee felt nervous? He would find ways to try and mask this fact, not wanting to let others know that he was worrying – which could be shown as a sign of weakness. It was silly and was very much a Decepticon way of thinking, but he couldn't help it – it'd been something he'd picked up from his rather unfortunate time at Tiger Pax which'd had a lasting effect; so he would do his best to hide it whenever he could. Be it through showing off and hoping things worked out (they usually did!), distracting himself through drawing or video games, or if he were around others who were of higher rank? He talked. Sometimes incessantly. Often without thinking.

Which was what was happening now.

The words, or, well – the beeps – came out, and he couldn't help it! He hadn't meant to be so casual around Optimus. This was the Prime! And while Optimus would no doubt gently reassure Bumblebee that he was fine in relaxing, and would encourage him even – Bee couldn't help but feel bad for just chattering away. He'd try to reassure himself that he was alright, though. If the Prime had issue with it? He would say so. He really wasn't sure why he was so nervous to begin with. Something about the Prime being on some amazing pedestal and Bumblebee feeling unworthy – which was ridiculous.

Still, he'd try to relax and loosen up.

--Oh, I know! It's a matter of finding the time though, and finding someone compatible who's even into fighting like this!--

Not that Bumblebee had even really looked, but finding someone around his height who also liked boxing? It'd be easier to just shadowbox and hope for the best! His mind wandered some, as if he was trying to think of anyone who'd even fit these requirements. Which was partly why he hadn't expected Optimus to catch his punch. It took him by surprise, his attention snapping instantly back to the other mech - and he'd look upwards at the Prime and tilted his helm as he was spoken to.

Busted! Again. Then again it was painfully obvious he'd been holding back so far – even an outsider who wasn't familiar with Bumblebee's fighting style could've picked that up just from watching.

--Don't hold back? Got it!--

He'd give a determined nod, his own weight shifting once his servo had been released. He'd shake out his arms, before holding them up loosely infront of him once more – this was to ensure that his jabs would be fast, and fluid.

He'd punch out swiftly with a left-hook, not holding back this time. There would be a solid smack as his fist made contact with Optimus' palm – then he'd jab in quickly with a right hook, before he'd pull back with both fists while he replied to Optimus' question.

--Didn't really learn... Was just a fun way for a few of us message couriers to pass the time during the war between being sent out onto the field,-- Another jab was thrown, harder than the previous two. His field would remain level, despite him going into what was a seemingly painful memory to talk about. --We'd scrap amongst ourselves, honing our skills and stuff, since we had to be the fastest of the fast out there. It was a real good way to test our reflexes. But yeah that's when I started, and I found out I was real good at it, so I stuck with it!-- That was the basic jist of it. He'd leave out the fact he'd used these skills while out on the field on his first mission to find Optimus, and in the few fights he'd encountered inside the Kaon Prison Complex.

Another hard left hook met Optimus' palm, and his optics would narrow just slightly.

He hadn't thought about the other message couriers in a long, long time. While he hadn't forgotten them, nor would he ever, it... Was something he didn't like to think of. There had been a small troop of them, all of them close friends. A lot of them last sparked like Bee, so they had that in common. Their numbers would diminish almost daily – they'd become easy targets and their missions were increasingly risky. There was a small handful of them left when Bee had taken on the mission to find Optimus – because nobody else would - by that point a lot of them were too scared. They saw their friends never coming back, and that mission was high-risk. He'd hidden his nervousness then, showing off. Boasting that he could do it. It hadn't worked out well for Bee, ending at Tiger Pax with him almost being offlined. He didn't know what happened to the rest of his small troop of friends, but as none of them had made it to Earth? It was painfully obvious.

Such was life in a war, and war was all he knew. These past events were why he was so fiercely overprotective of Raf, and those he was close to on Earth. He'd lost what few friends he had back during the height of the war, and sometimes found it hard to fit in here at the Omega Base – still, he'd defend anyone here with his life if he had to.

He'd duck, before swinging upwards with yet another jab. His field was full of determination now, optics still narrowed as he concentrated. It was as if Optimus' question had filled him with a newfound drive to do his best. He was no longer holding back.

--What about you, Optimus? If I'm allowed to ask, anyway!--

[Optimus Prime]

There was the glimmer of the fighter he knew.

The new far more solid strike hit against his open palm, creating a resonating clash of the metals colliding with one another. It didn't hurt, not in any sense of the word that Optimus registered, but he could feel the impact plenty now, and adjusted the angle of his hands in order to properly catch them as they struck out.

Optimus didn't like to think of himself as a fighter, for some reason that mindset never settled comfortably within his processor. He always thought about how he was an archivist first, how back in the day he would never throw a punch unless his life depended upon it, and even then it wouldn't be thrown correctly just out of ignorance. His mind fell back to those days with ease, despite the fact he was nearing a point of serving more as a wartime leader than all the time he spent before the war... but despite this, he could catch himself thinking the opposite when in actual combat, or when observing someone else fight... like right now.

As Bumblebee struck out his fist, Optimus couldn't help as the actions were instantly overlaid with so many other fighters that he had experienced through many years. The ghosts of past encounters playing out through his mind, comparing the minute differences between the way Bumblebee carried his weight, and the trajectory of the punch as it came in. Some due to frame type, others due to training and skill. He kept quiet on his observations for now, allowing Bumblebee to speak out and bring clarity on just how he put together this skill set.

It seemed he was forged in flame like so many others.

Boxing to pass the time could teach some things, but it could end up more sport than survival. The fact Bumblebee managed to translate that into a tangible real format to keep himself alive was a testament to his adaptability and creativity when faced with less than desirable situations. It probably explained why his style couldn't really be pinpointed in any one location or training, feeding and leaching off of others and intuition to make his own.

"You have taught yourself well."

After he said this, he moved his palms at an angle, to force Bumblebee to adapt on the fly to strike a moving target. He didn't mind if this impromptu change caused the scout to strike his wrist guard or not, instead focusing on the question that was asked.

And what a question.

"Many come together to form what I now call my own."

He began almost cryptically, thinking back across the plethora of faces through the years that had shown him their lessons. The memories were vast and yawning; expanding back through experiences he had harbored himself, and those that lay as shadowed ghosts of a life no longer present. There was almost too many to list off, and it opened far too many doors that would lead places Optimus wished not to speak of, namely the Matrix itself.

"When Megatronus and Orion stood against a common foe, there were those that would strive to clip the Gladiator's connection to higher castes."

He started softly, speaking as if he were telling a tale from some story more so than life experiences.

"Because of this fact, Orion was taught to defend himself. Lessons of a Gladiator, gifted to one too inexperienced to understand."

He remembered those lessons well, and remembered how he didn't fully understand the minute tips and tricks that were offered to him. Looking back, it all made sense, of course, hindsight always perfect and illuminating.

"As war was no longer a threat, but a promise, others stepped forth to build upon the established foundation, while experience and knowledge through injury filled the gaps."

Orion had stood strong as best he could, but the point was that as a labeled Prime, even if he didn't bear the Matrix, he was a target to be used. It was tactically sound for individuals to be appointed to teach him, but it often felt sterile and forced, each trying to input their own years of experience in short blips in the grand scheme of things.

"It was upon obtaining the Matrix, and bearing the title of Prime, that my capabilities were honed into what it is now."

That was honestly where the real trials started. Once he had the upgraded frame type, and the war was going ugly fast, he was far more likely to enter the field to stand beside those that put their lives under his leadership. Facing Megatron was the biggest hurdles, and those encounters taught him more than anything else could. It worked well, but it was hard to determine where the line exactly was between the scholar and Prime.

Optimus fell silent then, to allow Bumblebee to ask anything should his words bring out more questions.

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee would nod at the compliment, although it wouldn't distract him any. Talking about his past had only made him more eager and determined to do well infront of the Prime. While a few others seemed to doubt him because of his size? Optimus knew what Bumblebee had been through. He'd been there when Megatron had discarded him and left him for dead. He'd been there throughout Bee's recovery. He saw him build himself back up and overcome many challenges since then.

Sometimes he forgot just how long he'd known Optimus. While it was nowhere near as long as Ratchet, it really had been an honor to be at his side for so long. It was something to be proud of. Still, he'd always looked upto the Prime. Always would. Which was why that one sentence meant more to him than he'd let on.

--Thank you, Optimus.--

His field, which was still filled with determination would ripple with happiness. While he himself doubted his own skills sometimes, sometimes all it took was some recognition to ground him and make him realize that he was just as good as anyone else. Hearing it from Optimus was extra motivational, though.

As Optimus shifted his palms to a new angle, Bee would follow. Light on his feet as he jabbed at the new, moving target. He hit them perfectly, fully focused now. His stance was solid, yet his arms were still loose enough to enable quick, powerful jabs. It felt good now he wasn't holding back. It wasn't awkward. While he wasn't about to start showing off or anything like that, he could show Optimus just what he could do.

He would continue with the punches as Optimus began to tell his story. Wait, Megatron had shown him how to fight? Well, Megatronus... Then again, the thought of Megatron being anything but the ruthless Warlord he was today was hard to imagine for Bee, mostly due to his not-so-nice personal encounter with the Decepticon leader.

It was so strange. So weird, even, to think of Megatron and Optimus getting along in the past. As friends and sparring partners. It just showed how each side fought so strongly for what they believed was right if they were willing to tear apart longstanding friendships, he figured. While his story was hard to talk about, he imagined this one couldn't have been easy to share, either. Then again Optimus was never one for emotion, so Bumblebee couldn't tell.

He listened intently, while keeping focused on the punches. Another left hook, another right jab. He bopped from pede to pede, keeping himself moving.

--What do ya mean by they were honed into what they are now?-- He asked quietly. He felt it was a silly question, but one that he wanted more explanation on – simply because he was curious. He didn't know Optimus had upgraded his frame type, all he'd known was Optimus as the Prime he knew today. He hadn't known Orion, nor did he know really much about him other than he had been an scholar. While he'd heard stories from Jazz about how their leader used to be a little more easygoing, he couldn't imagine anything but the Mech stood before him. The Prime. His hero.

[Optimus Prime]

"Fighting against one that wishes to assist, is far different than it is against those that truly desire your demise."

And boy was it a difference. Bumblebee likely had his own stories to tell on such things, and knew well the clash between mock fighting and the real thing. The surge of distress, the need to do things RIGHT or end up not just injured, but dead... it was a heavy weight to bear, and a shaky situation for those that step into the metaphorical arena for the first time. Optimus was willing to bet on the fact that many who would find their downfalls in the war, did so on their first or second times actually facing active combat. Optimus then continued, adding onto his comment while he thought back.

"It does not matter the aggression of the teacher, nor the threat they try to instill. It pales in comparison to the field of battle."

Optimus wasn’t the type to often speak of things with nostalgia or fondness, but he did look back through the years and within the privacy of his own processor to reminisce. This was one of those quiet moments, and about as close as he would get to openly breaching a subject of personal experience like this on his own while thinking back to some of the more aggressive trainers in the onset of the war. Some supplied tips and tricks, but there was one in particular that held no hesitance and saw past mere titles.

"Adapting, and learning from mistakes, forge greater skill than any teacher can bestow-"

Optimus shifted his weight then, his arm pulling back and lowering down to his side after one of Bumblebee's punches. It was a very clean cut to the practice and display he had been prompting, ending it readily, before he moved forward.

"-But this does not discredit things that can be taught."

Rolling his immense mass into a slow stride, the Prime maneuvered over and around the scout in order to stand behind him, though not directly. He was to the left of Bumblebee, having deduced that he seemed to favor that limb over the other while he was throwing practice punches. It could be a part in why he had an advantage enough early on with no formal training, for most tended to favor the other side for one reason or another, while many became ambidextrous out of utility and need.

Towering above, but more inert to not do so in an intimidating manor, Optimus' frame bent marginally at the waist to lower him down somewhat. He still wasn't close to being level with the other Cybertronian, but the dip in posture allowed him to reach his hand forward to gingerly lift Bumblebee's limb below the elbow. With one hand resting there as a light guide, the other took hold of his hand, lifting both in tandem to slant the arm slightly.

"I believe you will find more impact, if you angle like this."

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee would listen intently to what the Prime was saying. It wouldn't distract him from his task, however, and he would continue to punch quickly and with purpose – each hit was just as hard and each perfectly on target as the last as they made contact with Optimus' palms. Now that he'd been given permission to do so, he wasn't holding back even a little.

Optimus had such a way with words, despite not being much of a talker. Everything he said was concise, to the point.. Yet his words, as few as they were, held so much weight behind them. It was one of the many things that Bumblebee looked upto him for, and his words impacted the little yellow Scout probably more than most, due to the sheer respect he had for his Prime. He wouldn't reply, feeling that he didn't need to – but would nod to show he was taking it all in.

The part Optimus said about things paling in comparison to the field of battle made Bumblebee pause ever so briefly. That comment had hit home, it seemed, and he'd nod firmly, standing up a little straighter before punching out once more.

Bee did have stories to tell about his experiences with fighting. He'd been good at the sparring amongst his teammates thing, really good infact – and had grown overly cocky and overconfident with his skills and had become something of a braggart back in the day. So it was no real wonder that his first actual real encounter while out on the field against a very real and very scary Decepticon opponent had been a terrifying and sobering experience. Things were so different when you were fighting for your very life and not just for fun.

He still couldn't get over the fact that Megatron had helped train Optimus. That they used to spar together. That they used to be friends. It was so... Surreal to him. Then again he had no idea of what life was like before the war. It just went to show how firmly each side believed that they were correct with their views if longstanding friendships were dissolved over it.

Not that he'd dwell or really think about it too much, not in the middle of training, anyway! He was fully focused, and had been paying attention to every word, every tiny, subtle movement of the Prime. So when Optimus lowered his arm back to his side, Bee wouldn't punch out again. He'd remain in the fighting stance, however, and Optimus' words caught his interest. Did this mean Optimus was going to teach him something new?

He'd watch quietly as the Prime moved around him, although would keep his attention and gaze straight ahead. It would only drift to the other when he felt Optimus' servos on his arm, and he'd watch curiously as the limb was gently manipulated into a slightly different position.

He was silently impressed, although not at all surprised, that Optimus had picked up on the fact that Bee favored his left servo when throwing punches. While he was decent with his right, he'd learned that most of his opponents hadn't really expected more powerful blows to come from the left side – so had taken advantage of this fact.

--It feels a little odd!-- He laughed, keeping his arm held steady and trying to make a note of how the limb had been slanted so he could remember it in future. He trusted Optimus' word more than anything – he had years of experience over Bumblebee after all, so if he said this would help? Bee believed it.

Slowly, with Optimus still holding his arm out at the correct angle, Bumblebee would punch forwards. He was being slow with his movements on purpose, watching how the limb moved under the Prime's guidance and hold when he was throwing a punch.

--I can see how it would have more impact though! Feels stronger, even at this slow speed.-- He chirped. While it felt weird as hell doing something new after being so used to the way he did things, Bee was quick to learn and adapt – he had to be! – and so would no doubt take on this new stance naturally before too long.

He wanted to ask if Megatron had taught him this pose. But... He wouldn't.

--Can I try it without ya holding? I think I got it!-- He asked eagerly and quickly. He didn't want to be rude and just yank his arm free of Optimus' grip and punch wildly at the air, given that the Prime was being so patient in teaching the young Scout – it was an honor that he was getting to train with the Prime to begin with. However there was no denying that there was some newfound excitement in Bee's field at having been taught something new. It might actually change his fighting style just slightly, and for the better!

After Bee pulled his arm back from the punch, he felt Optimus remove his servos. He wouldn't wait for a verbal reply, that was all the response needed – and Bumblebee in his excitement would bop from pede to pede eagerly, turning to face the Prime fully so the other could watch and critique.

--Like this?-- He'd ask, before punching out at the air quickly and with force - using the new technique he'd been shown. He really was a fast learner, as he'd angled his arm correctly and everything. It was a perfect punch!

Except it wasn't the air that he hit.

Oh no. Not even a little bit.

There was an all too familiar sound. The impact of metal-on-metal.

As his fist made contact. With Optimus Prime.

[Optimus Prime]

Bumblebee was so receptive to encouragement and advice, that Optimus wondered if he even needed to say anything at all. His touch against the scout’s forearm easily maneuvered him into place, where he followed through with the motion in a slow calculated swing. He could see the way Bee processed it, how his optics lit up in excitement of something new, and the pure amount of focus and determination locked beneath that childlike glee. Bumblebee didn’t punch with the determination of a killer that found joy in it, nor with the weight and grievance of one doing it just for survival. He seemed to be having fun, and yet not in a malicious way like some others he has observed before. Somehow he was turning what could be a grim lesson for survival, into... this.

It was… tricky to explain.

Whatever the case, seeing him light up over the new information, and follow through with it was uplifting. Bee grasped onto the lesson, and did not walk with it, but instead ran, allowing Optimus to show him a few times to ingrain the angles down into short term memory drives. It was only a moment, before he expressed his desire to try on his own.

The Prime’s helm dipped ever so slightly in a nod, while his hand pulled away to motion gently for the scout to continue on his own. This was not only needed for Bee to get accustomed to the process, but it also let Optimus take a step back to try to figure out what he had been contemplating earlier. However, he would not be gifted such an opportunity for long, for Bumblebee spun around and swung a fast strike without taking a step.

The sound of the impact against Optimus wasn’t any louder than the punches that had been striking against his open palms mere moments prior, but the context of the situation seemed to make it sing and echo that much more. A heavy clunk, a bang, the daunting realization of what had just happened, it had occurred so fast and there was really no other way to put it other than the fact that Bumblebee had punched his Prime.

The strike itself collided with the front of Optimus’ hip, narrowly avoiding being what humans could refer as a ‘crotch shot’. It hit the point between the deep blue flaring that covered more fiddly mechanisms, and the large joint where his leg began. One thing Optimus could tell Bumblebee though, was that the force of his punches did improve… though he wasn’t about to show that readily.

An icon, a figure of strength, he needed to fill a role and meet said expectations to not appear weak or feeble in any way. This didn’t change at all in the moment, and with thousands of years of experience he was able to quickly suppress any noise of surprise or discomfort at being caught off guard ((Because why WOULD he expect being punched from Bee?)), but he did wish he was a bit quicker to have caught onto things. If he had noticed the way Bee was turning to show off, and took into account of how close he was, he could have caught the punch before it hit and avoided this little fiasco.

Rolling his hip down and back, Optimus transitioned a shift from discomfort, into one to shift his weight to move a step away to put the appropriate distance between them once more incase Bee decided to throw another, which… was highly unlikely. After he put this buffer, he spoke, trying to clip any stress that may form, though if the pure panic he was feeling from the other said anything, he was too late.

“Accidents happen for a reason, they teach lessons that will be remembered far more than those taught by words.”

Considering he probably needed to disengage any panic this brought on, he pushed himself to continue speaking. Hopefully by offering a small slice of his own experiences, Bee will think it wasn’t as big a deal in practice as it is in word. ‘Punching the Prime’ may sound horrible, and could turn many helms, but this wasn’t that bad.

“Far before the war, when Orion was younger than you, he served as a Monitor for the Hall of Records.”

While he spoke he stood fully upright once more, and started to walk. It was only a short distance, but it relocated him to the Scout’s side once again, while also moving the components that had been struck to bleed off the nagging feeling it left behind.

“Monitors were members of the Data Caste. Transmissions from all across Cybertron that met appropriate parameters were screened, and cataloged into a living record of the populace and current events.”

He knew Bumblebee may not know what a Monitor was, so he had offered this tidbit of information, before he stopped at the other Cybertronian’s side, and turned about to face the same direction as him.

“All this would occur through consoles, where Orion served countless years. But new Monitors themselves can be… monitored, and Orion found himself shadowed by another.”

He lifted up his arms up before himself once again into the fighting stance, his leg shifting back to pair and balance himself. This was the pose that he had been holding before Bumblebee had become involved, and his helm crooked down to look at the scout, trying to encourage him to mirror to get his mind off the small incident.

“Mistakes occur, and the guide stepped forth to amend, prompting Orion to move. Orion however, miscalculated, falling off of the stations platform.”

Lifting his helm up to view in front of himself, he thrust a fist out hard, striking the air in a practice swing. Bee may be able to tell that he was using the same angle to his arm, that he had shown him just moments prior.

“It can be safe to assume Orion was mindful of his footfalls since.”

[Bumblebee]

Everything went deathly silent.

Everything froze.

If it weren't for the fact that Bumblebee knew it was near impossible, he would've thought time itself had stopped. He found himself stood awkwardly, fist still very much against the Prime's hip. He'd turned too quick. Rushed. Punched eagerly. Made contact. Now he found himself frozen in absolute horror at what he'd just done.

The sound from the impact hadn't been any different to when he'd hit Optimus' palms just moments earlier. It wasn't louder. It wasn't a different tone. Yet it was so different.

It would probably be a noise that'd haunt him for a long time. Even though it was a complete and total accident? He'd just punched the Prime. He knew Optimus. He'd known him for so many years now, and at the back of his processor, he knew that Optimus would be alright. He wouldn't be angry, or even the slightest bit annoyed at what'd just happened. He knew that a lesson could be learned from this somewhere. But that little voice of reason and logical thought was drowned out by panic.

So much panic.

It flooded his field, and he'd look up at Optimus quietly. His brilliant blue optics whirred as they opened wide, like the eyes of an owl. Arm still outstretched with his servo curled into a fist, as if he was unable to physically pull himself away due to the shock of what he'd just done.

He had to apologize. He had to say sorry! Yet... Was unable to find the words.

He... Should've known better. While he wasn't a formally trained fighter, he had so much skill - and despite the fact that to an outsider it would look like random punching and bopping around? He had a lot of grace and finesse with his movements. He knew what he was doing and yet had gotten over excited and... Ghn. A stupid rookie mistake. Optimus probably wouldn't want to train with him again. Red Alert had probably seen that on a camera in here and he'd get yelled at. He'd get extra chores. He'd get lectured to death about how he had to be more careful because this was the Prime. He'd be banned from boxing at the Omega Base!

While his processor continued in this panicked state of dreaming up every possible worst scenario in the history of ever, his field radiating with the same feelings as he mentally beat himself up over the entire thing – Optimus made the first move in fixing this situation and stepped away from Bumblebee.

Bee found himself still unable to utter the apology he so badly wanted to say. But then Optimus began to speak. Bumblebee would lower both arms to his sides, standing up straight and rigid as he listened. There was a glimmer of relief in that Optimus didn't sound even the slightest bit annoyed. It wouldn't cancel out what Bee had just done, but... The relief was there.

He'd listen intently, gaze not leaving the Prime as he walked. He'd peer up at him as he made his way to Bumblebee's side. More relief was felt as he continued to talk. He hadn't known what a Monitor was, so was glad that Optimus explained it – and would nod in response, still remaining quiet as not to interrupt. It sounded... Fascinating, actually. He knew that Orion worked in the Hall of Records - Jazz had told him as such – but he didn't know fully what his job had been. So to hear what he did? Was awesome.

He continued to listen, continued to look up at his Prime as he told this story of his past. Watching curiously as Optimus once again shifted into the fighting stance. Bee would hesitate briefly as Optimus looked down at him, but would shift into position and mirror the pose – just like he'd done outside the room when he'd first wandered down the corridor. He was alert now and focused. His pose strong – if a little too rigid.

He wouldn't punch out, not yet. Waiting for Optimus to do so first.

He'd relax some just slightly as the Prime went on with the story, telling how he fell off a platform. He... Felt strangely honored by being told this. Even though it was to try and calm the little Scout, he knew there was a high chance that nobody else knew of this little stumble – aside from the guide at the time, of course!

He'd watch as Optimus punched out, taking note of the positioning and angle. It was... It was the same angle that he'd just shown Bumblebee! While there was still panic in his field, the determination was creeping back in at seeing this. He hadn't noticed it before, despite watching so intently. There was a newfound inspiration to stick with this angle when punching, even though his first real experience of doing it was punching his mentor.

He'd punch out with his left fist. Twisting his arm just slightly as he did so it was the same angle that he'd been shown. He'd hold his arm out after punching the air, before glancing up to Optimus once he was done speaking and telling the short tale, and nodding.

The panic was gone from his field now. Determination from watching the Prime, and some slight amusement at hearing the story, replaced the terror he'd felt only seconds earlier.

--Just like I am gonna be mindful of where, and who, I'm punching in future,-- He beeped quietly, frowning. He'd pull his arm back, shifting into the idle fighting stance once more. --I'm so sorry I hit you. I shoulda been more careful and paid more attention. Lesson learned! You're right though in that the punch has more impact, it felt great! So much stronger!-- He was trying to perk up again, his beeps not as quiet. He'd punch out at the air once more. Only would hesitate and awkwardly stop mid-punch.

--Wait! N-Not that it felt great hitting you,-- Damn it. He'd pull his arm back again. --Just that I can tell the difference already compared to the way I was doing it. I can't wait to try it out when I train seriously next, to really get it down perfect!-- Another punch outwards with no hesitation this time. His gaze straight ahead as he focused.

He did, of course, mean train next at his small makeshift training grounds. If it could even be called that anymore. Due to the buddy system in place, and the fact he'd kept quiet about it? It'd probably been worn away to nothing by weather and time. He wasn't sure who even knew of it. Jazz did, as he'd taken him there after a tour of Jasper to race and show off – which'd been cut short by Onion running onto the track. That'd been the last time he'd visited, and the first time he'd shown anyone where it was.

It really wasn't much of anything, but at one point had been one of Bee's pride and joys. A small dirt track for racing, lots of rocks for target practice and punching. That way he could focus and train as hard as he wanted without a sparring partner getting tired – rocks never got tired or bored, and if he needed more? It wasn't hard to find them in this terrain! Punching the air was fine and all, but it had no substance. He could've, and probably should've just asked around the base for a sparring partner but he knew of no others – aside from Optimus – who did fist fighting like this, and bots around Bee's size weren't exactly everywhere, and he couldn't go around punching the walls, either. He'd done that already when the truce had been announced and had regretted it ever since.

For now, though? He'd make do with punching the air, and so would punch out again – slowly, this time, making sure he got the angle just perfect. His processor seemed to linger on Optimus' story, and the one he'd told earlier of Orion and Megatronus. If Orion had been a Monitor, that explained why he'd been taught how to defend himself. He had questions. Like... Did Orion fall off the platform again after that? But he felt that would be rude to ask, and so he would assume that no, he did not.

There was one other question, though, one that he'd almost asked earlier. And now more than ever he just had to know – especially as he'd seen Optimus using the same angle to punch out with...

--Where did you learn this technique, anyway?-- He'd glance up at Optimus just briefly, then back to his outstretched arm as he held it still. --Was it something Megatronus showed Orion? I just ask because I never thought to do it like this, and none of the other message couriers seemed to do it either!--

Bee was always trying to better himself. He'd tried new techniques, new fighting styles – even mimicked some of the things he'd seen humans do on TV! But nothing had ever seemed to really click or feel right, so he'd quickly gone back to what he was used to. But this? This felt more natural, and he wanted to know more about how this simple little twist of an arm had come to be. That, and he was actually enjoying spending time with the Prime one on one.

Punching him in the hip aside, of course.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus was not made of glass.

If the Prime could be broken or put through immense pain by being struck by another Cybertronian, than it is fair to say he probably wouldn't be alive this day. Megatron would have downed him the first time they fought with a well placed punch to disorient, and if the Autobots were still a thing, they would have been lead by someone else by now. There was a certain level of resiliency that comes with the job that is gifted both by heavy armor, and adaptability of mind, and he wouldn't let such a strike, even if it were well placed and strong, show.

This isn't to say he liked being hit, no, but Bumblebee wasn't going to be scolded or put through the mill for a mistake he obviously felt grievance over performing. Even if Optimus intended to do such a thing at the onset of the strike, he knew that verbally beating the scout would accomplish nothing in the grand scheme. Only thing such a brash and impulsive decision could do, would be to make Bee nervous or scared in his presence from this day on. Turn this minor incident into a cruel lesson that could affect the way they interact for quite some time.

That is why he 'jumped' and stepped forward with the story readily. He wanted to disable the tension, and prove he had no issues with what happened, as long as Bumblebee learned from the mistake. What were quite a few words for the normally quiet Prime, flowed out readily then, telling the tale of Orion's misstep. It was a bit of an embarrassing tale, but he didn't show any shame in the story, unless you translated his avoidance of referring to his past self directly as shame.

Whatever the case, whatever the excuses, or whatever people translated it as, Optimus' words and actions worked, and it seemed Bumblebee's fear and distress bled away to leave the young Cybertronian's typical energy in its place. After a solid punch that both of them took at the open air, Bumblebee even began to speak again, which was refreshing, up until the point he caught himself in a verbal snare again.

Optimus wasn't one to openly emote. He doesn't smile, or laugh, he doesn't wear his emotions upon his shoulder for others to pick up on and exploit. The only thing he seemed to readily show was disappointment and calm contemplation. This said, Bumblebee's misspeak, and his scrambled attempt to cover his tracks, permitted the corner of his mouth to crook ever so slightly. It was a long shot to call it a smile, it would not pull his features back, and his lips didn’t part to show any teeth, but the subtle implication was there, and some amused warmth was offered in his field.

"You already grasp it so well, I see your mastery of it a given in time."

It was then Bumblebee spoke once more, though this time his words were a bit more clipping of a question. The small implication of a smile seemed to fade then, and Optimus' helm lifted to peer ahead of them while he pulled his right fist back, and followed through with another practice strike, his servo cutting through the air with a sharp swipe that told of the power that was held even during practice.

This was something learned from Megatronus, and this fact, mixed with who it was Optimus was teaching this lesson to, that made whatever he would reply with, a bit of a shaky one.

Optimus for all of his wisdom and patience, for all he knew of this world and its inhabitants, and how much he could gleam and know of his team, he... did not know the full extent of how the situation with Megatron affected Bumblebee. He knew the scout would throw aside any lingering fears or trauma to save him, as seen when he infiltrated the Warlord's mind with the Psychic patch, and the way Bumblebee kept the same even after losing himself to another's mental influence... but... Megatron had to be a sore subject.

After the punch, the Prime's gaze glanced back down at the yellow Cybertronian, trying to judge his field, and if this was going to be a problem. He didn't want to lie, he didn't want to mislead Bee, but he also didn't want him to have this lesson sullied and tainted by the fact of who sourced the infromation. After a long pause of contemplation, where he let the silence of the Omega Outpost settle around them, he finally spoke.

"Yes."

Dry, the word rumbled out lowly as if a sorrowful admittance.

"Within the gladiatorial ring, the most subtle of improvements can be the difference between life and death."

Looking away, he did not look back at Bumblebee, focusing instead on following through with a couple shadow boxes into the open air. After two strikes, he would shift his weight, and roll into a single stride that moved him forward, changing the angle of his punches to keep himself maneuvering and from growing stagnant. He expected Bee would follow suit to meet him at his side.

"What looks to be senseless chaos, is in actuality a honed display of talent."

Orion had hated the Gladiatorial ring. He didn't readily go to the matches, only having gone a small handful of times at Megatronus' request, but that was enough to cement his first thoughts as fact within his processor. The nauseating stress of not knowing if his friend was going to come out with all his limbs intact, or even alive, was enough to tear into him and make a healthy dislike of the sport, to grow venomous. It was barbaric on so many levels, and a tangible display of how corrupt their world had become. But they turned battles and war into art, and to turn ones back on their lessons would be unwise.

"Many lessons are sourced from these foundations."