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Prolix dragged himself onto a rickety bar stool. It creaked dramatically as he settled, and he silently cursed. He was small for a seeker, so the stool didn’t have to act like he weighed more than a combiner.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.
Prolix dragged his optics from the stool to blearily look up at the specials board, not recognizing any of the names of the drinks or what they might contain. “Uhm,” he said, not wanting to look like an idiot by picking something stupid. “Something… strong,” he replied. “But cheap,” he added.
The bartender was not impressed but went to start making his drink anyway.
Prolix sighed. His orange wings flicked behind him as he looked around at the other patrons.
A group of three mechs at the other end of the bar, gambling in a game involving dice. Some loud-mouthed mechs in the back were clearly about to get into a brawl. Another pair, sitting in a booth, looked like they were haggling over some dubious-looking weapons. And someone was staring at his wings with a weird expression on his face.
This was a seedy bar, all right. Exactly the kind of place someone could go to not to be recognized, not to talk to anyone you knew, and just forget about all the annoying things that were going on in your life and all the annoying people that were making your life miserable.
“What could possibly be upsetting you so much?” a smooth voice said next to him.
Prolix startled. He had been alone at his seat at the bar just a moment ago. He turned his gaze to see a tall, lanky mech with wings sitting next to him.
He wasn’t a seeker, Prolix didn’t think. His frame was maybe reminiscent of one with his shoulder vents and long wings down his back, but he looked more angular somehow. Gaunt?
It was probably the hollow cheeks. Were those teeth Prolix could see visible-
“It’s rude to stare.”
“Sorry,” Prolix said automatically. “I just didn’t notice your arrival.”
The stranger glanced at him through his visor. “Was this seat taken?”
“N-no,” Prolix said. His drink arrived, and the bartender looked at the stranger expectantly.
“I’ll have what he is having,” he said. The bartender grunted, leaving them alone again.
Prolix sipped the drink and grimaced. “You might regret that choice,” he said, his voice strained. He glanced at the stranger again. “I’m Prolix.”
“Atmos,” was the reply. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Prolix narrowed his optics, sipping the drink again. “I’m not really in the mood for whatever-”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” Atmos interrupted. “I’m not really surprised considering all of my frame upgrades over the years.”
Prolix’s vents stalled. “No? I don’t recognize you,” he said, giving Atmos a hard look-over.
The bartender returned briefly to set a drink in front of Atmos and then left again. Atmos did not reach for the drink.
“Pity,” Atmos replied.
Prolix bit the inside of his cheek. The mech was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him, and it was nagging at him. “Were you on Earth? I was there briefly before being shipped back to Cybertron to help Shockwave with the war there.”
“You are getting warmer,” Atmos replied with a smirk. “But further back.”
Prolix noticed the bar was quieter. He glanced behind Atmos and noticed that the two loud-mouthed mechs were gone, which was weird. It looked like they weren’t going to leave until at least one of them threw a punch or two.
“Did I know you from before the war?” Prolix said, sipping his drink again. Atmos still hadn’t touched his drink and was just staring at Prolix with amusement. “Maybe from the war academy?”
“Mm,” Atmos said. “No. Much earlier.”
Prolix furrowed his brow. “There isn’t much from me earlier than that,” he replied flatly. This mech was honestly kind of creepy, and Prolix was getting frustrated. Usually, he could read a mech better than this, but this Atmos wasn’t really giving anything away.
“Are you going to drink that?” Prolix asked irritably, looking at Atmos’s drink.
Atmos continued to stare at him. “Probably.”
Prolix sipped at his drink again and wondered when the gambling trio at the bar had left. He hadn’t seen them even get up to go.
“I’ll give you a hint,” Atmos said quietly, leaning over to whisper into Prolix’s audial. “Do you remember a mech named ‘Terrikos?’”
Prolix dropped his drink with a clatter and stood, backing away from the bar.
He looked for help, his frantic optics sweeping the whole bar for anyone who might be paying attention.
But the bar was empty. When had it emptied? Where was everyone?
Prolix’s vents were heaving, and his fans had turned on to their maximum setting. “T-terrikos is dead-”
“Yes, he is,” Atmos said, daintily dabbing his servos at the corners of his mouth as if wiping something away, yet his drink was still untouched. “My new name is Atmos. It’s a better designation to fit with my wings. Don’t they look like a seeker’s wings, Prolix?”
Prolix’s optics went wide, and he backed away more, his back hitting the far wall.
Atmos languidly rose from the seat, and his wings draped behind him like a long cape. He tilted his helm with a smirk and shrugged. If he noticed Prolix’s distress, he didn’t act like it. “I’ve adapted over time, you see.”
“S-stay away from me!” Prolix shouted. “Terrikos- Atmos, whoever you are! Look, I- I won’t say anything, I promise… I’m not, I don’t-”
Atmos was suddenly in front of him, using impossibly fast speed. He loomed over Prolix and smirked.
“Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Prolix gaped, and his lower jaw trembled. “Friend?! I tried to kill you!”
“Yes,” Atmos replied, nodding in agreement. “It’s about time I returned the favor.”