Chapter Text
Primus, I hope I'm not too late.
But Optimus had a feeling he was.
He was running, trying to get back to the coordinates Ratchet is directing him to. Memories of the battle running loops in his mind:
He was on the battlefield, face to face with Megatron. Punches were being thrown, blasters battling behind him, screams of tearing metal all around. The battle was the same as the others, almost too repetitive. They were in a clearing, not too close to a human settlement, but still near an automatic energy collector. The details of it, Optimus didn't have enough processing space to think of. Most of him was focused on the battle in front of him.
Another punch thrown, but this time, Megatron grabs his arm, using it to throw him onto the ground. With a grunt, Optimus looked back up at Megatron, who held a twisted smirk on his faceplate. Primus, Optimus wanted to wipe it off him.
Perhaps a bit impulsively, Optimus threw himself at Megatron, tackling him to the ground. They both took a tumble, plating dragging into the ground. Optimus ended up with the upper hand for a split second. Using this to his advantage, he managed to throw Megatron down the side of the hill. Standing at the top of the dirt mound, Optimus looked down at Megatron, expecting to see anger, expecting to feel the fiery burn of a fusion cannon blast. But, all he saw was a smirk. A confident, sadistic smirk. Something was wrong, and anxiety started pooling in Optimus's spark.
Then, Megatron spoke. “Oh Optimus~” Megatron laughed, causing the anxiety in Optimus' spark to blossom even more. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
…What?
Optimus racked his processor for any idea of what Megatron could be talking about. It came back empty.
“Now, why you were fighting me here, my men were on their way to the Island.”
What?
“And I just got the confirmation that they have arrived.”
Fear ran through Optimus' frame, stabbing through his energon lines into his every limb. While he didn't know what exactly Megatron was referencing, he knew it was not good
“Within the following minutes, my mechs will have found those pescky… Rescue Bots you have failed to hide. And no matter what you do, even if you run to them now, they will be grey before you could ever reach them.” Megatron's laugh echoed through Optimus' processor. Fear and horror digging into his frame, his very metal. This was all a distraction, allowing Megatron to enact his twisted plan for pain.
And now, Optimus found himself running, thinking back to that moment. The Decepticons were already there, they were there with the helpless mechlings. Mechlings who he swore to protect, mechlings who he had failed to.
His memories of getting to his base, and getting through the portal to the island, were just a blur. He couldn't remember what happened between the time he heard the words to where he was now. But he remembered the fear, the helplessness he felt, the prayers he gave.
Now he stood on the Island, searching for any signs of life, or signs of destruction. He ran to where he knew the firehouse would be, where the Rescue Bots would be. As he ran, he flooded his scanners out as far as they could go, looking for any signs of cybertronian life. He found none, neither Rescue Bot nor Decepticon. Horror filled his spark. He was too late.
He arrived at the Firehouse, which still stood where it should be. He ran towards it Throwing the doors open, he lunged into the building, axe held firm in his servos. And then he froze.
“Uh, Optimus? What's going on? Are you ok?” There, sat Blades, Boulder, and Heatwave. All three of them sitting on a barrel which were set up in a circle, with Chase standing in the center. All of them had either a confused or concerned look on their face. No Decepticons in sight. His scanners only picked up four spark signatures in the local vicinity.
Relief flooded him. His frame nearly collapsed into a puddle on the ground. They were alive. They were unharmed. They were OK. He stared at them, relief flooding out his emp field. His optics tracked over each of their frames, confirming they were unharmed.
He finally managed to make himself speak. “Is everyone alright?”
The Rescue Bots quickly glanced between themselves, confusion still evident on each of them. “We are ok. What about you? Is everything alright?” Their optics flickered to Optimus' axe, which was still gripped firm in his servos.
Optimus sighed in relief, but still didn't lower his weapon. “I am ok friends. I just had a question for you guys. One of my… acquaintances went to an island, but we are unsure of which one. Have you seen any other mechs here recently?” The lie felt heavy in his chest, but it was better than terrifying the younglings. They needed to be calm, in case there was any danger around the corner.
Heatwave glanced back at his team, who all shook their helms, before answering Optimus. “Uh… No. No one has been here recently. No new or strange mechs that you haven't introduced have been here either.”
Optimus nodded, stress slowly leaving his frame. “Alright then, I'm going to take a look around the island then. Just to make sure.” He needed to make sure the Decepticons weren't hiding anywhere.
“Sure, ok. Need any help with that?” Heatwave and the others went to stand, presumably to help the search.
“No no, it's OK Heatwave. I don't want to stress them out with a bunch of new mechs following them. Thank you, though.” The other mechs sat back down with a shrug, taking Optimus at his word. In reality, he didn't want them to walk right into a Decepticon.
“Ok Sir, just call us if you need anything.”
Optimus nodded, taking another look and scan of the fire house to make sure he didn't miss any bot holding around. He glanced through the doorways into the other rooms of the building, sticking his helm into each and checking them. The Rescue Bots gave him a few weird glances, but they were hesitant to question the Prime.
Eventually, Blades spoke up “Uh, Optimus Prime sir? Are you sure you are alright?”
Optimus took one last look, before turning and heading towards the entrance of the Firehouse. “Yes, I am quite alright Blades. Thank you for your concern, but I must be off now.”
With that, he left the Firehouse. His fear was calming down, but his suspicion was still raised high. Megatron had said his mechs were here, and he was not one to make empty threats. He searched the outside of the Firehouse, then made his way into the nearby forest. His mind was on high alert.
The forest was clear, no spark signature. He slowly widened his search, his processor going round and round as he came up empty. This emptiness did not fill him with relief, he was missing something.
His search was not empty for much longer. Off to the side, on the ground by a tree, was a splatter of energon. Fresh. None of the Rescue Bots were injured, so someone else was here. He pulled his axe up higher. The energon stain led to a path made up of energon drops. He followed it, carefully examining every twist and turn. Damage on the trees and cracks in the ground started appearing more. Crack tree stumps, craters under foot, stomped flora. Evidence of a fight. Something had happened. They were here.
Then a spark signature appeared on his radar, just off past a few of the trees. Optimus froze, staring at the coordinates where it was. He slowly approached the signal, preparing for an ambush. They were here, and he will not fail the Rescue Bots this time.
Quietly, he approached the area the signature was. He was near, his axe head firm in his hand, unsure if it was friend or foe. He crouched behind a set of trees as the smell of fresh energon filled his senses. Strong and harsh, unrelenting.
He peaked through the leaves of the tree, and his optics stopped on the mech sitting on a rock. A blue mech, with specks of yellow on his plating. High Tide. There he sat, a few dents in his plating, and a wound down his arm. But, his optics took more notice on the Decepticon Vechicon corpses by his feet. Limbs from mechs scattered on the ground, pools of energon underneath them. Optimus quickly put together a story of what happened.
He finally stepped into the clearing, and High Tide’s optics snapped to him. Optimus could feel his anger, feel his post battle wrath. The feeling of being on edge still clung to High Tides plating.
“Hello old friend, are you alright?” Optimus said as he approached, still scanning the surroundings to check for any hidden cons.
“Yeah yeah. I'm good. Where the hell have you been?!” Anger flashed through his words.
Optimus froze for a second, shocked at the tone of voice. “I am… not sure I follow.”
High Tide grumbled something under his breath before he sighed and stood back up. “Never mind that. What are you doing here?” The angry tone did not leave.
Optimus took one last glance around at the surrounding area, before turning to fully face High Tide. Optimus could see the discarded med kit supplies on the ground, and the field patch that sprouted on his arm. Optimus took a second to plan his words. “I was told that the Rescue Bots were under attack, I came as quickly as I could.”
High Tide stared at him for a second, before letting out a quick growl. Optimus stared back, not threatening, just on edge. After a moment High Tide spoke again. “Yeah, well. The cons found here. Sent these fraggers to ‘take care’ of the mechlings. The fragging mechlings. “ High tide growled the last bit out, his anger spiking. He paused for a second, before a new emotion found its way into his face plate.
“How in the seven seas did you know that the cons were here? I sure didn't call ya. And I made sure they never reached the younglings' sight.” His tone was suspicious, almost accusatory.
Optimus tried not to take it to spark, he too would be a bit curious if an ally appeared with no explanation. And High Tide is quick to anger. A trait that keeps the Rescue Bots alive. But, he didn't know how to quite explain what happened. Shame coiled around his spark as he thought about the declaration Megatron gave.
“I… we were having an altercation with Megatron. And he mentioned that it was all just a distraction during his taunting. One that he used to cover his mechs attacking here. I came as quickly as I could. Thank you, old friend, for protecting them.” Optimus said the last bit as sincerity as he could. Optimus couldn't bring himself to imagine what would have happened if High Tide hadn't been here.
High Tide’s expression changed. To what, Optimus couldn't pin point. It has been a while since he has last seen High Tide, and it seems his ability to read the mech has suffered as a consequence.
Optimus glanced at the ground, voice full of somber. “It was only a matter of time before this happened…” Optimus' voice was heavy, regretful. He knew that the Decepticons would find the Rescue bots eventually, he just hoped he could put it off till later.
Optimus could see the shift in his field at the comment, High Tide started seething with barely constrained anger. He could feel the heat behind his optics as they bore into him.
“Yeah well, I am never going to let these washed up cons anywhere near my younglings. These younglings don't deserve to have your war hanging over them.” High Tides glair pierced into Optimus. Something else glimmered just below the surface. Something accusatory. But, Optimus couldn't place it.
Optimus stared at the carnage beneath them. The broken bodies, thrown limbs, splattered energon. High Tide was an unrelenting force, and the damage served as a reminder of what he could do.
High Tide glared at Optimus, furry just barely contained. “Now get your seaweed brain out of here. You are a beacon for cons, and I don't want any more showing up here any time soon.” High Tide took a few steps forward, optics now surveying the ground. “Now, I need to make a message for some mechs.” High Tide mumbled something after that, but he couldn't make out what.
As High tide examined the carnage, something else took over his field, and Optimus was reminded that he High Tide was a pirate through and through. Violent, protective, territorial. How that exactly showed through on Griffin rock, Optimus didn't know. But he had a feeling he was missing something involving that.
—---
It took everything out of him not to scream at the prime, not to throw his weapon at the Prime. The only thing keeping his mouth shut was the fear of the Rescue Bots over hearing the screams and finding the blood bath. They were so young, they had no need to see such a sight.
High Tide would protect his mechling from that.
But Optimus… he wanted to scream at him, demand how he could just leave the Rescue Bots with no defense. He knew they were under attack, yet he sent no one to save them. Only he came, and he showed up late.
This happened again and again. Anger rose again within him. It seems day after day, Optimus finds a new “ally”, some innocent bystander just wanting to be kind. Or a child who knows no better. And they.. They just become collateral.
And now the Rescue Bots are at risk for being put on that list. And yet, Optimus does nothing. He may say he will, may say he will protect them. But yet, Where. Was. He.
He knows it is unfair to put all blame on Optimus, but his unsettled anger did care much for logic right now. Right now, he needs to clean up and check on his younglings again. Make sure they are ok, and make sure they stay that way.