You’re small, much smaller than other mechs. If you’re lucky, you’re usually about half an opponent’s size. Whenever a much larger mech is about to fight you they tend to underestimate you. Add on the fact that minimers have a reputation for being docile, you come as a surprise. You can be vicious—it comes with the territory of being a puffer fish mer.
You’re a great fighter, and one little secret you have—or at the very least something everymech forgets—is that you have quills, poisonous quills . It usually only takes a little prick for a mech to feel the effects. Sometimes they’ll pass out or sometimes they’ll put up a fight till you inevitably beat them.
Your quills are really good for winning fights; they’re just not good for winning wars. You can’t depend on your quills out in the battlefield. Well, you can , but the scolding from Ratchet is never fun. It always makes you feel like a pup again—it’s downright embarrassing to be yelled at by the grumpy octopus mer.
“Bumblebee,” Ratchet sighs when he sees you swim in to his med bay (your lack of injuries have probably clue him into the real issue here). “If you overused your poison stores again, I’m going to hit you,” he grumbles.
You put your servos in the air and chuckle cautiously, doing your best to soothe him with your electromagnetic field. “I’m fine, Ratchet, seriously! Optimus just got worried that I was a bit woozy–uh, not from my poison! I got hit in the helm good. That’s all.”
“That’s all, he says,” Ratchet huffs, “I’ll be the judge of that, come here.”
You go to him obediently, hoping to get out of here before Ratchet finds something to nag at you about. Letting him inspect your helm and sensory horns a bit is a small price to pay. You make sure to tell him someone tailslammed your head, from what angle, and anything else he may need to know.
“Well, no dents, no scrapes, and if you’re not feeling dizzy or nauseous, you should be fine to go,” Ratchet tells you.
“See, I knew I was fine! Told Optimus as much,” you laugh. Ratchet shakes his head, noting your enthusiasm to leave as soon as possible, but he does move out of your way so you can leave.
“Keep an eye on your helm!” Ratchet yells as you leave. You trill at him an affirmative and make your way out.
You’re really glad to get out of there before Ratchet can realize that you in fact did use your poison stores, at least more than you should have. Not enough for it to be noticeable, but enough that your energon rations for the next few days will like get processed into poison before getting digested into the rest of your body. It’s the unfortunate woe of being a puffer fish, your body prioritizes the poison.
As long as you avoid stinging any mechs, though, you shouldn’t have any problems. You’ll be able to keep up with the rest of the pod and not have to get scolded by Ratchet for the umpteenth time this cycle. Just you and some routine patrols for the next few chords.
Only… Your next patrol is full of surprises. You’re taking your usually path just before the outskirts of Autobot territory when you spot Skywarp wading about. The giant dolphin mer is as sneaky as she could possibly be (that is to say: Skywarp is large and easy to spot in the coral reefs Autobots call home). You could pick a fight with her, but you’re not willing to deplete the rest of your poison.
As bold as you are, risking offlining in the middle of a fight with a trinemate of the Decepticon second-in-command is so unwise. You can already hear the disappointment from Optimus. Speaking of Optimus, you know it’s better to send a ping back to base. [Decepticon spotted, not engaging] should cover your bases, tone down a yelling for the ill-advised stalking you’re about to do.
After all, it’s suspicious that Skywarp is ‘alone’ in Auto b ot territory (she may try something you’ll need to put a stop to). You have , however, heard of the command trine being forced into solo missions as a punishment—usually an attempt by Megatron to humiliate the offending seeker. The timing of this suggests, though, that the Decepticons have taken note that the Autobots have changed their routine in this area (you just feel they should have pick a better scouting mech than Skywarp— this must be a punishment).
You follow Skywarp a bit, till she’s gone past the corals reefs and into more desolate rock formations. She moves around a tall rock formation, but still when you realize she’s not where she should be. You freeze your systems as you try to figure out where the dolphin went. However, before you closed your vents, you got a change to intake the water and process a sour flavor. When your systems read there’s an electrical charge, you realize that she must’ve teleported specifically when you couldn’t see her.
You try to swim to cover a klik too late and get slammed into the rock wall to your left by a large mech. This triggers your automatic stinger response, earning you an indignant yelp.
“Stupid–!” Skywarp growls, her engines growling loudly as she tries to pull away from you without letting you go.
You yell, “Let me go!” as you try to free yourself, but your head and arms are pressed painfully against the rough rocky wall. You growl as loudly and deliberately as you can, swinging your tail closer to Skywarp (if you can just stab or slice her plating, dig your quills into her—). When Skywarp doesn’t let you go, you activate your lesser-used threat response: the one where you puff up your tail. It’s a threat display, usually, but it gets your quills right where you need them—through Skywarp’s plating.
“What the–stop that!” Skywarp peels back for a moment to slam your head against the wall. Unluckily for you, this strikes one of your sensory horns and leaves you wildly disoriented (enough for Skywarp to pull away from immediate striking distance). “Stupid little Autobot, you just had to ruin this for me!”
You hear the words are slurred, and you’re not so sure if this is ‘cause you used enough poison on her, or ‘cause you cant make sense of words with your horns screaming feedback at your senses. Nonetheless, you flare out your wings and pose ready for a fight (you hope you can at least pretend you aren’t struggling).
You send an urgent ping to base [Decepticon attacked, send help!] and receive an answer immediately, but not on comms. No, you feel a crooning hum just a little ways behind you, and you know without needing to look that it’s Optimus Prime. Ironhide is probably with him.
Regardless, you can see Skywarp flare up her plating before clamping down harshly and building up a charge to teleport away. You barely feel Optimus’ EM field before Skywarp disappears with a “Frag!”
Good—you don’t think you could handle a serious fight with her when one of your sensory horns is damaged.
“Are you alright, Bumblebee,” comes from Optimus’ gentle voice. Words are, however, a bit hard to vocalize when you’re too busy thinking of the shrill thrumming of your horn, so you beep out a [so-so]. With very obvious concern, he gently offers: “Let me take you to Ratchet.”
You swim at his side to Ratchet’s den and it would be a rather normal affair where your sensory horn was treated and you didn’t get scolded, but well…
“You lied about your poison stores?!” Ratchet hisses, gritting his dentae together.
You want to shrink, make yourself even smaller than you already are. It would be easy if you were pup-sized again, Ratchet was weak to a few soft bleats and your bug-eyed optics. But you’re a grown mech now, and there’s no escaping this.
“You lied and you fought the enemy, a dolphin, with your quills! Alone!” Ratchet yells, arms crossed as his tentacles twitch angrily.
“I wasn’t planning on fight Skywarp, she just–“ You cut yourself off when Ratchet glares at you.
“You still also lied, to my face, about your poison,” he tells you sternly. You could correct him, tell him you didn’t lie about why you looked out of it (hits to the helms are serious), but you know that’ll just piss him off more.
“I’m sorry,” is all you can say, trying to convey genuine apologeticism through your EM field. You’re really only sorry that you’ve been caught, though, because this isn’t the first time you pretended your poison stores were full and it won’t be the last.
“You should be! A mech can deactivate you when you due to overused poison stores,” Ratchet scolds, and you only hand your head in response.
When he’s sure your sensory horn won’t act up, he sends you off with an order to be pulled off patrols and missions until you’re cleared for action.
Overall, your encounter with Skywarp felt very one-off—a chance encounter with the most unfortunate timing. Skywarp never returns, probably because she’s just not a stealthy mech, but moreso the fact that she probably had to return early (as a failure). If she was being punished by Megatron, she’s only going to experience worse. It makes you feel a bit better: thinking about Megatron being mad at her is funny—serves her right.
It takes several chords, almost a whole quartex, for you to heal up. Being on medical leave gave you time to catch up on friends. Optimus also checked on you often (no doubt feeling guilty for not getting there quick enough). You also hang around the med bay every now and then, pestering Ratchet because you can. He eventually clears you active duty again, which you’re thankful for. Any longer and you would have gone glitchy—being trapped on base for so long.
Not like you’re going to be sent on missions, just boring patrols for the most part. The Autobots are changing their set-up and taking advantage of whatever lull the Decepticons have given them, as well as preparing for whatever they may be planning. You’re not sure if anyone caught on, but you think there may have been some information leak that the Decepticons want to take advantage of, hence why all the Autobots are getting scrambled around.
You don’t get restationed. Being a scout means needing you up closer to the front lines. At least, Prowl told you it’s better overall, and why he won’t station somewhere quiet.
You do, however, get put on a lot more patrols than you’d like. Hot Rod is assigned your partner after the Skywarp incident, but you don’t always patrol together. Sometimes, staff gets stretched a bit think so all the new patrolling pairs have to separate a bit—cover what other pairs can’t.
This is what happens before a patrol that was supposed to be joint, but one of the teams is getting punished for interfacing on the job. At least, that’s the gossip Hot Rod tells you.
“C’mooooonn, Roddy,” you groan, “I did not need to know that.”
“Hey, I heard them getting an earful about it because Mags was so not happy,” Hot Rod laughs, “And it’s always fun hearing him be awkward about people’s interfacing habits. ‘Cause he Never approves.” Hot Rod starts giggling at the memory and rolls belly up.
You roll your optics and turn him over. “You wouldn’t like someone talking about your failed frag sessions,” you chide, but no seriously. Knowing Hot Rod? He’d probably own up to it. You shake your head fondly. To interrupt whatever confirmation he’s about to tell you, you say, “Well, Roddy, good luck with your patrol. No fragging on the job, okay?” The last bit was added a bit humorously.
Hot Rod laughs and pressed himself against you gently. The two of you rub helms as he says, “Good luck, Bee! Don’t let me hear about you fragging on the job, either! May Primus below guide your tides with care.”
You two separate for your patrols from there, but you are excited to see him later when your patrols overlap. When you’re alone like this, it’s boring. This wasn’t an issue you really cared about before everyone got assigned into pairs, but now that you have Hot Rod, stopping to chat with him has been the best part of your orn.
Otherwise, patrols are boring. And this one was supposed to be no different, but there’s a pull in your spark that feels wrong. The deeper into your patrol, the more you feel concerned, and it feels entirely irrational. None of your analysis systems are picking up anything unusual. But something about all the readings you’re receiving are wrong, and your spark intuition says you should be gearing up for a fight.
Not one to ignore your intuition, you try to ping Hot Rod a warning—he’s closest and should receive your comms easily, better than base at least. Of course, the keyword here is try. Your ping immediately and suspiciously bounces back. And so does every ping you send thereafter.
Whennone of your outgoing comms go anywhere, you stop sending them and evaluate your surroundings. You’re in a lush of tall organic plants, nothing that will help your yellow and black colors camouflage, but you’re obscured at the very least (and small, too). There aren’t any rock formations particularly close to you and the sand floor is far below you.
Slowing your systems into idle with bated vents, you retract your EM field close to your body and try to extend your sensory systems out. Your wings flick minutely, trying to gauge movement but having trouble finding a balance between the waves and swaying plants. Your horns don’t pick up much, but they latch onto many smooth hums.
You focus on those smooth hums, trying to parse what they could be. It’s not ambiance, and it’s too clear to be diffracted echoes from far off mechs. It’s also a sound that only your sensory horns are picking up, something tangible but indecipherable. It distinctly feels like the echolocation of a much more sensitive mer species.
Your only options are whales and dolphins, and judging from the quiet feel of the sounds on your horns, you’d have to guess the latter. Two, there are at least two seeker-dolphins around you communicating.
You try to keep yourself still in the water, letting the tide sway you with the plants you hide in. They could be here by happenstance, unaware of you being in the vicinity, or they could be hunting, already completely aware of you. You hope its not the case, because the idea of fighting at least two dolphins is extremely unappealing. Skywarp was more than enough for one cycle.
Speak of the dolphin!—every single one of your sensors hones in on the charge in front of you the arc before she’s even fully appeared. You roughly try to swim backwards, but she’s larger than you, and your arms are grabbed by hers before you’ve gotten very far.
“There you are!” she taunts, effortlessly pulling you flush against her at the same time. One arm wraps around your waist plating as the other grabs hold of both your servos.
She really should have paid attention last time, because you activate your quills. She groans at the pain for an arc, before in trills into a laugh—a smooth, amused laugh—but she refuses to let go! You’re prepared to activate your puff response, hopeful the pressure incentivizes her to release you, but the process halts when you hear another laugh.
It’s grating, unlike Skywarp’s laugh. This new laugh has a distinct sense of haughtiness and cruelness—and ugh, it must be Starscream. You’ve heard him before, seen him, too, but have never really been is close proximity to him before. And here he is, just a little bit in front of you as Skywarp holds you tightly. Behind Starscream, you see a third, blue seeker who can really only be Thundercracker.
Great , the whole command trine must be here as payback for poisoning Skywarp. Petty revenge, what a way to go.
“Starscream,” you growl, wiggling as you retract your quills so you can save some for the dolpin-seekers in front of you.
“Little scout,” Starscream coos, “Bumblebee. Are you scared?”
You glare harder. And when he reaches out for you, you start growling again, furiously trying to ping someone, anyone , to no avail. Skywarp releases you easily, giggling as she lets herself float towards Thundercracker. You try to swim away, but Starscream grabs you firmly, and rubs a servo teasingly along you tail. It’s almost suggestive, so you have no qualms stinging him with your quills.
He grunts, pained and not used to the sting before he decides to grab your arms firmly. You’re tempted to puff up and swing your tail at him. “Ugh, I’ve–,” he pauses to growl, “I’ve heard of your little poisons. You’ve inflicted them on my trinemate. How… unforgivable .” You don’t quite like his tone. It’s not full of any of the wrath you were expecting (especially given Starscream’s reputation). He’s not the sort of mech to quietly seethe—not with Autobots, he usually tries to tear them apart for even ‘daring’ to slight him.
“So what?” You goad, “Here to pay me back for it? Tough luck, I’m not going down without a fight!”
He laughs a bit too condescendingly for your liking, before passing you carelessly to Thundercracker. The blue mermech is a lot more gentle with you than the other two. He doesn’t pin you to himself like Skywarp did, nor does he hold you roughly at arm’s length. He takes care to envelop your whole body with his. It’s deceptively sweet—you sting him, too. He whines softly, but doesn’t seem to want to let you go either .
“We’re not here to hurt you , Scout,” Starscream tells you. Which yeah, weird , because you’ve noticed they’ve not even attacked you for stinger each and every on of them.
Skywarp swims to press herself against you and Thundercracker, “Nuh uh,” she hums, letting herself get stung. Which, also very weird . You retract your quills quickly, suddenly suspicious about there lack of fear for being poisoned.
You see Starscream examine his injured hand almost with disinterest before leering at you. “Your poison can kill a mech, little scout,” he starts, rumbling slightly, “but it barely seemed to do such a thing to dear Skywarp.” You stay silent so he gets to the point. Coming close to you three, he mechhandles you away front the two before prodding at you roughly.
Behind you, Thundercracker and Skywarp are tumbling against each other, laughing slightly. They seem almost like they’re on syk. The realization hits you quickly, and so you start struggling earnestly. Starscream glares and you as he gets frustrated with your newfound desire to start wriggling. With one unfortunate jab, he presses in a seam causing you to mute a squeal as your quills automatically. He hums, pained, as his arms are stung.
“You can’t be so desperate for a high that you’ll use me to get it!” you yell, trying to control your stinger response as well as your vocalizer. Losing your poison stores to a bunch of junkies is going on your list of worst things ever, of all time.
They all laugh at you, as they seem to be ready to pass you around again.
“Stupid Autobot, this is payback for poisoning me. Just a little fun you owe me,” Skywarp cackles as Thundercracker grabs hold of you. She presses herself against Thundercracker’s back as he nuzzles your helm affectionately, pressing into your seams for another hit of your poison.
It’s horrifying to know that they’ve immediately figured out how to trigger quills without your cooperation. You have to keep anyone from touching your seams because you learned very quickly, through one failed attempt at getting fragged, that you can’t stop yourself from poisoning someone. No one wanted to touch you after that, and anyone who has touches you like you’re too fragile. This trine of seeker-dolphins wouldn’t care, though, because you’re their newfound drug dispensary.
It’s mortifying, and horribly arousing. That first time some bot dug their digits into your seams, you keened for your lover, immediately guilty when they yelped and jumped off you. You swore off letting anyone touch you like that, even if it was the best feeling you’ve ever experienced. It might go down as the worst feeling ever now that the Decepticon Command Trine has discovered it—doing so without knowing what it does to you, how it gets you all revved up for something you wouldn’t even humor happening.
Fortunately, the dolphins are too busy being concerned about getting as high as possible to notice your unwilling arousal and apparent tiredness. Skywarp and Thundercracker themselves, seem to be getting hot as well. You can feel the warmth of their frames when they grab you. Being nearly three times your size, they’re as warm as a thermal vent. Their combined heat soothes your aching tail, overused and depleted of most of its poison by this point. You could deign to get comfortable, but you’re too worried someone might not find you in time to consider pretending the exhaustion is anything else.
Eventually, they sneak off, presumably, to frag, considering the way they were groping each other as they left. You bitterly hope they get interrupted and better yet, arrested. You are, however, still with Starscream, who seems very unconcerned about getting even more high. He’s getting distant, though—very dozed off (maybe enough to escape—). He gets caught off guard and hit in the face by a very angry Hot Rod.
This barely seems to startle Starscream out of his high, but he does loosen his hold on you, just enough for you to be pulled away. He slowly managers to gather his thoughts, at which point he chooses to glare at Hot Rod who now has you very protectively in his arms, his assortment of fins fanned out in a dazzling threat display. Starscream takes a klik to gather himself, before rushing away to find his trinemates, an urgent echo emanating from him.
Through the reeds, it’s hard to tell what’s going on. Starscream’s red plating is noticeable, but still obscured. You don’t see him get very far before a bright purple light shines at his last location, presumably Skywarp teleporting them away. The realization that they’re gone hits and you ex-vent shakily, glad to be out of their Decepticon servos.
You want to go offline a bit, recharge until the war is over and you’re no longer feeling sore. Instead, Hot Rod is (gently, blessedly) checking over you in a panic, making sure you aren’t bleeding or dented. It’s distracting, but welcome.
“Oh Primus, Bee, I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, what did they do? Did they try to slag you to the Unmaker for nearly killing Skywarp,” Hot Rod rambles, keeping just calm enough to not mumble anything into incoherency. He holds your helm straight as he looks into your dimming optics, is own bright and wide and panicked. Hm, you should be sufficiently panicked as well, but you never could when you lose your poison in such large amounts at once. At the very least, you make a note of the error, manually trying to send your systems in urgency like you’ve been instructed to do before.
“I’m fine, Rod….” You mumble, trying to ease him with your EM field, only to instead convey proto-deep exhaustion that bodes horribly if you’re not taken to Ratchet as soon as possible. You just hope your EM field doesn’t overshare—you don’t really want Hot Rod to know you were passed around as a drug.
Hot Rod’s own EM field kicks up, though, emanating frightened panic. “We weren’t supposed to separate today, I had to chase you down when you didn’t get my comms,” he nearly cries, rushedly trying to get you back to base as he continues talking, and at a speed Blurr may very well be jealous of if he heard.
“’S not that bad,” you hum tiredly as you try to swim so Hot Rod isn’t doing all the work, “Just … emergency rations, … good as new. Mmm, recharge, too.” You hear you’re not making much sense so you opt to stop talking and just beep updates at Hot Rod. You are, at least, not damaged, and you hope you can convey as much to Hot Rod so he doesn’t panic into an early deactivation.
In record speed, Hot Rod has the two of you back at base, and he orders the first mech he sees to help carry you to the med bay. You aren’t paying attention much, but you feel the worry of Ratchet’s EM field before you really even see his signature red and white tentacles.
You’re on a berth being scanned and checked over before you can even understand that you’re in the med bay. In the presence of people you trust, you let yourself offline for a much needed recharge.