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“Sari, you are aware my designation doesn’t have the same gendered connotations as it does in your language, right?” Optimus looked down at Sari, who was fervently flipping through a book of names she’d borrowed from the library. “‘Optimus’ is just a translation of my designation into your language. I don’t mind if it’s considered male.”
“Well, yeah–” Sari pouted and looked up at Optimus with crossed arms, “but don’t you want a different name anyway? You said you’re different now, that you’re a woman and a…” She paused as she struggled for the words.
“System,” Ratchet added in from his spot at the TV, where Bumblebee and Bulkhead had enlisted him into helping fix it.
“System, right! So don’t you want something to make yourself unique?” Sari suddenly paused. “Am I talking to Optimus right now or someone else?”
“It’s me,” Optimus assured. She felt the presence of someone else there, unfamiliar like someone was standing just behind her shoulder. But she didn’t say that to Sari for fear of disturbing her.
“Okay, good. So, you want a new name?”
Optimus paused in thought. “Well– I guess it would be convenient if I had my own name, just to know whether you’re speaking with me as an individual instead of me as an entire system. But I do like my designation.”
“Names are important to us Cybertronians,” Prowl said, sensing Sari’s slight confusion at Optimus’ stubbornness. “They’re given to us by our instructors, carefully picked after spending adequate time with us. To change one’s name can be considered a betrayal by some.”
“Oh! I get it,” Sari nodded. “It’s similar for us humans, our parents name us. Though it’s more common here to change our names.” She looked back to her book. “What about ‘Optima?’”
Optimus cycled her optics, skeptical. Sari quickly went into salespitch mode.
“It’s the female version of your name, instead of the male version. It’s not too different from your current name so it won’t be an adjustment. You could still use Optimus whenever you wanted, you’d just have another name you could use.”
“Hm,” Optimus considered it. “I’d like that, I think. I need to consider it more first, but… Thank you, Sari. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Maybe not,” Sari said, “but I really wanted to. It’s nice to have another girl around here anyway!”
“More like weird,” Bumblebee commented. Sari gave him a look and he held his servos up defensively. “Not bad! Just… weird.”
Optimus (Optima?) winced. It wasn’t as though she blamed her team, the sudden adjustment of ‘I am not the gender you all thought I was, also there’s multiple of us in this processor of mine and they could’ve spoken to you all before I knew about them.’
“Not that weird,” Bulkhead shrugged. “I knew a bot who had over a hundred other mechs in his head. He showed me a graph of them and everything.”
“Please don’t tell me there’s going to be a hundred bossbots. That’s way too many.”
Ratchet snorted. “There’s no ‘limit’ on how many alters a mech can have. It’s not like Prime has a ton of control over it.”
Optimus briefly thought that if she did have control over it, she’d choose for it to just be herself since that would be much easier. But she didn’t say that.
Blitzwing hadn’t seen anything of Optimus since their spar in Cyberspace.
It didn’t bother him. It didn’t! No matter what Wings or Blitz tried to claim otherwise. The Autobots surely wouldn’t take out one of their own for something as silly as being a system, surely! That’d just be crazy! And Optimus wasn’t avoiding them. Surely.
Did he think that Blitzwing wouldn’t like him anymore? That would be ridiculous, Blitzwing was a system himself! Besides– more Optimus was always nice, even if Zing didn’t really know how many headmates Optimus was carrying around. Blitzwing had unfortunately been very busy, too busy with work from this silly peace treaty to try and seek Optimus out.
Fortunately, they’d finally gotten through with all that nonsense. They’d managed to squeeze some information out of a few frightened Autobots that Optimus was on Earth with his team, and even more fortunately had been able to get permission to use a spacebridge to get there. Perhaps it had required twisting some servos to get there, but that was besides the point.
The feeling of green grass beneath their pedes and air full of hydrogen hitting their sensors wasn’t as unpleasant as Zing thought it would’ve been. Earth was more beautiful than they remembered.
Humming a disordinant tune, Zing transformed and flew out of Sumdac tower and off to the Autobot’s little base. When they landed outside, they found the large garage door already open. Convenient!
“Hello~!” Zing called, just realizing they probably should’ve informed at least one of the Autobots here of their arrival. Eh, they hated talking to any Autobot who wasn’t Optimus. “Anybot home?”
“Oh great,” the annoying little bug’s voice complained. “Blitzbrain’s here.”
Zing felt Blitz’s presence like an oppressive heat, but he didn’t push his way to the front. Most likely he also realized that picking a fight would only prevent them from seeing Optimus.
Blitzwing sauntered into the pathetic little shack like he owned the place, only to be stopped by the medic-bot.
“I know what you’re here for,” Ratchet grunted.
Wings came to the front to help smooth things over. “Then you should have no reason to stop me, yes?”
“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Decepticon,” Ratchet spat before shaking his helm. “Whatever. I’m not here to fight, and for your sake you better not be either.”
“I am not, unless I must defend myself,” Wings said, eyeing the two other Autobots on the defensive. Where was Optimus? The big green one was missing too, but Blitzwing didn’t really care about that. “If you’ll excuse me…”
Ratchet sighed. “Fine. She’s outside with Bulkhead. Just know I’m keeping my optics on you.”
There were a lot of things to process about that sentence, but most importantly– “she?” Blitzwing echoed, searching their memory banks for another Autobot who resided on Earth.
“Yes,” Ratchet’s expression somehow grew even harder. “I trust that won’t be an issue for you?”
Oh. Oh! “Of course not,” Wings was only mildly offended at the accusation. Blitz was another story. “Thank you.”
“What was that about?” The bug’s annoying voice droned as Blitzwing left the room.
Walking to the little outdoor area the Autobots had brought Blitzwing to a surprising sight. Optimus and the green Autobot – Bulkhead, Wings’ memory supplied – were sitting before two canvases, painting with an array of cans littered at their pedes. The small human was there too, sitting on Bulkhead’s shoulder for some reason.
Optimus turned her head at the sound of their pedes on solid stone. When she saw them, curiosity morphed into gentle excitement, a calm smile spreading across her face. Blitzwing stopped in their tracks at the sight.
“I didn’t know you were visiting,” Optimus said, her voice calmer and softer than Blitzwing had ever heard.
Their shock must’ve been obvious on their face. Optimus took pity on them and beckoned them over, and they quickly walked over to stand beside her. Bulkhead was giving him a suspicious look, but he didn’t say anything. The little human was a different story, looking between Optimus and Blitzwing rapidly and seeming to arrive at a conclusion.
“We’re painting,” Optimus explained, her canvas a mess of varying shades of blue. It seemed less like an unintentional mess and more akin to a curious experimentation of colors. “I asked Bulkhead about something I could do with my hands, and he told me about his painting hobby,” she looked at Bulkhead. “I’m surprised I didn’t know you liked to paint!”
Bulkhead shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
Blitzwing hummed. They looked at Optimus’ face, at the easy smile and calm optics. She appeared less alert than how Blitzwing remembered, optics half-lidded and lazy, movements vague and slow with no clear purpose behind it. In comparison to the usual Optimus, who refused to take up any space she didn’t need, this was… very, very different.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Wings said.
Optimus paused. “I don’t think so,” she confirmed, her brush stilling as she thought. “I remember you, though.”
Blitzwing couldn’t help the feeling of elation that appeared in his chassis. “You do?”
“Yes! You gave me that sculpture of Optimus’ alt mode,” her smile turned larger, warmer, looking at them with fond eyes. “It’s very beautiful.”
Blitzwing was once again struck silent. “... It is nice to meet you properly,” Wings finally managed, pleased with themselves for not stammering.
“You too,” Optimus looked back at her canvas and started smearing white paint in triangular configurations. “My name is Moonflower.”
“Oh,” an odd name, not that Wings was judging. They’d give their own name in return if there wasn’t an Autobot and a human right there. “Pretty.” Is all they can manage, too flustered and confused to come up with anything else.
Moonflower nodded once, satisfied, and turned back to her canvas.
“What are you doing here?” The child took that opportunity to speak. “Didn’t get enough of us kicking your butts last time?”
Blitz bared his denta at them. “That is none of your business.”
“I’d say it is, considering that you’re at our base,” Bulkhead pointed out. “What business do you have with bossbot?”
“Oh, we’re dating,” Moonflower said breezily.
Bulkhead and the human both looked at her in shock.
Oblivious – or perhaps just uncaring – Moonflower continued, “or maybe he and Optimus are dating? I don’t recall being very active while they were together… I think Optimus fronted the most out of all of us.”
The two were still completely silent. Then Sari ran inside, calling the bug brat’s name. Bulkhead followed behind her, warning her of stepping or tripping hazards. Having such a tiny organic was certainly a hazard, Blitzwing couldn’t figure out how they managed it.
Moonflower didn’t even glance behind herself. She kept painting, unbothered. She seemed to emanate an aura of serenity, her own calm making Blitz not care for any consequences of so carelessly revealing their relationship.
He glanced at the canvas and huffed. He could teach her how to sculpt.
(Selfishly, a part of him wanted to see and speak to Optimus again. He still had no idea where they stood.)
“I could teach you,” Blitz said, crossing his arms.
Moonflower looked at him with curious optics. “Teach me what?”
“Sculpting.”
Moonflower’s optics lit up, bright blue sparkling like the sun reflecting on water. She set down the brush and stood up, her attention completely shifting away from painting. “I’d love that.”
Excited, Blitz grabbed her wrist. “Most of our materials are back on Cybertron, so we’d have to go there.”
He expected Moonflower to show some apprehension, or tell him to go grab it himself. But she just nodded, still smiling peacefully.
Odd. But Blitzwing wouldn’t complain.
“Blitz,” he said.
Moonflower cycled her optics. “What do you mean?”
“My designation,” Blitz bit out, embarrassed. “It– it’s Blitz. Blue is Wings and black is Zing. Those are our designations.”
Moonflower smiled.
“I know. It’s nice to meet you all too, Blitz.”
“That doesn’t look good.”
“Mm?” Moonflower hummed, searching her mind for whomever had come to the front with her. It was Optimus Prime, and the vision of her in their mind’s eye was as imposing as ever, fierce wings and stiff stance.
“It’s–” Optimus fumbled for the words, trying to strike a balance between honest but not cruel. “It’s not… accurate. And even then, it doesn’t look like those other art styles the humans made that Bulkhead showed us. It just looks like random paint splatter.”
“Maybe so,” Moonflower shrugged, going back to painting while her headmate judged. “Does that really matter, though?”
“Of course it does. What’s the point in doing it if it looks so… wrong?”
“I think it’s fun,” Moonflower said. “It’s nice to be able to be bad at something. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Optimus Prime was silent. Moonflower hummed and went back to painting.
Blitzwing was rudely awoken by the sound of fierce pounding against his habusite door. He groaned, rolling over in a vain attempt to block out the noise. When it did not cease, Blitz crawled out of berth with a furious hiss, stomping over to his door.
“This better be worth my time if you’re interrupting my recharge!” Blitz snarled, but then his smoke and snarling faltered. Optimus stared back at him with sharp, calm eyes. “Optimus?”
Even as they said that, Blitzwing knew it wasn’t Optimus. Her eyes were too sharp and narrowed, fierce instead of simply stern. Her arms were crossed over her chassis, a deep frown etched over her faceplate.
“There you are,” Optimus – or whoever this was – said. Her voice was certain where it would normally be unsure, and it carried a soft posh accent. It almost sounded like Megatron’s, which was a thought Blitzwing did not want to dwell on. “Come, let’s go.”
“Go where?” Blitz demanded to know, ready to hold his ground and demand more answers, but he couldn’t help but soften when Optimus turned her gaze back onto him.
“My habsuite,” she said, as though it were obvious. “Being the mech who captured Megatron comes with a very good salary increase, so I was able to procure the both of us polish. It’s not a full repaint, but with my plating being as dull as it is, it will have to do.”
“You got polish for the both of us?” Wings said, confused.
“Of course,” Optimus said. “You are my partner, aren’t you? If I get a polish for my plating, it only makes sense I get some for you too. We must both look stunning, not just me.”
“... I didn’t take you as the type to care for those things,” Blitzwing said, letting himself be taken to her habsuite. “Though I don’t seem to recognize you.”
“My memories are less clear when it comes to you,” Optimus said, “but I remember enough to know what I must. Even if Optimus finds repaints and polish to be a waste, I do not. I’m not letting her drag around this dull husk of a body anymore.”
“I think you look beautiful!” Zing said emphatically, poking Optimus’ finial and watching it flicker.
“You would say that,” Optimus huffed, though she sounded quite pleased. “I haven’t gotten repainted, polished, or thoroughly washed in stellar cycles. If I go one more without any sort of touch-up I’m going to go insane. It’s unsightly to walk around like this, especially when I have the expectations I do on my shoulders.”
She noticed Blitzwing giving her an odd look and stopped, raising an accusatory optic ridge. “What?”
Wings switched in to school their expression into calm neutrality. “We’re just unused to seeing and hearing you like… this. It’s different from the ‘you’ we’ve gotten used to.”
Optimus paused in thought, narrowing her eyes. Her movements were smooth and calculated, as though she had carefully thought out each step before taking them, moving with the confidence of a mech who knew they were invincible.
“That is understandable,” she hummed. “I suppose I didn’t consider how strange this would be for anyone else. I forgot my existence would be odd for some and confusing for others.”
“That’s how it tends to be for mechs like us,” Wings said dryly. “Do you recall… us?”
“I do remember that,” Optimus nodded. “Your name is Wings, we’re dating. I wasn’t ‘there’ much when you were around, I don’t believe, but I do remember our dates–”
“Optimus Prime.”
The both of them whirled around at the voice, finding an Autobot standing just behind them. She casted a nervous glance at Blitzwing before looking at Optimus, straightening her posture and saluting. “Sir.”
Optimus nodded her head to give the mech permission to say whatever it was that she wanted to say. The mech looked put-out by the lack of decorum or proper Autobot patriotism, but Optimus didn’t seem to care.
“The Council needs you for deliberation,” she said. “They’re at an impasse and are requesting your judgement.”
Optimus frowned, giving the messenger an annoyed look. “Is it that pressing?”
The messenger raised her optic ridges, intake falling open slightly. “...Yes? It– it’s the Council, Optimus Prime. They’re requesting your presence.”
“Hm,” Optimus sighed, clearly annoyed. “I see. Thank you, then. Take me to them.” She turned to Blitzwing. “Don’t wait for me, amour. I’ll probably be preoccupied for a while.”
“I understa– wait,” their faceplate began to heat up, a red flush infecting it. “What did you call me?”
But it was a question that would go unanswered as Optimus marched off with the messenger, waving goodbye to Blitzwing with a small, knowing smile.
“Optimus?”
It had been a while since Blitzwing was fortunate enough to catch sight of Optimus– they were starting to think she was avoiding them. At least they’d found her again now, albeit clearly preoccupied with something else, if the fact that she was currently clutching a datapad and fiddling with the buttons on the elevator was anything to go by.
Wings tactfully ignored Zing making fun of them for stepping onto an elevator just to speak with Optimus. It wasn’t “desperate” behavior.
Optimus’ expression was completely blank, no emotion in her optics of derma. She kept reading her data pad as though she hadn’t heard him.
“Optimus,” Blitzwing repeated, her flickering finials confirmation that she had heard them. “What are you doing?”
Optimus remained still for a few moments. Then she looked at them, her faceplate morphing into a hateful sneer.
“What do you want?” She said, using the tone of a bot who was speaking to waste clinging onto the bottom of their pedes.
Wings’ mouth snapped shut, staring in shock as Optimus waited for a response. When she didn’t receive one, her face returned to its blank state and she turned back to her data pad. The sting of rejection was harsh and unforgiving.
The elevator dinged to signal its arrival to the desired floor, and without even glancing back, Optimus stepped off it and walked away.
Carrus continued their path towards the meeting room, their processor already organizing the topics that were planned to be addressed. They were getting sick of all these Decepticons wandering around Cybertron as though they had some sort of right to be here. It was–
YOU IDIOT! Several different internal voices screamed, causing Carrus to stumble.
Orion had been on edge ever since his and Blitzwing’s confrontation in cyberspace. No matter what Optimus(Optima?) tried to claim, he couldn’t see any qualities in them that would make Orion think a relationship was a good idea. He vaguely remembered Igneous and Moonflower talking to them, and that seemed to go well, but nothing could really convince Orion that dating the notorious lunatic war criminal was a good idea. Sure, they had a cute smile (except for Wings, Orion would not be hearing differently about that) and could be fun to be around. They were also tall enough for Optimus to not even reach their shoulders, and every time they moved when Orion was next to them, he could hear the old and powerful mechanics beneath their plating pull and move.
Hence why Orion knew very well that Blitzwing was following him, despite their attempts to remain unseen and unheard. Either Blitzwing wasn’t ever trained in stealth or they just didn’t care enough to try. Or maybe Orion’s training at the academy wasn’t a complete waste, if he wanted to be optimistic.
Orion’s dread grew the more he walked. He had no idea what Blitzwing wanted, or what they had planned, or when they would get bored of stalking and finally talk to him like a normal mech. Or maybe they were planning an attack, who knows. Certainly not Orion.
Orion sighed and whipped around. “Blitzwing, if you have something you need to say, can you just go ahead and say it?”
Orion heard the sound of startled machinery, which sounded remarkably like Blitzwing jumping back and almost tripping in his surprise. Orion suppressed a laugh– better not to offend the incredibly dangerous Decepticon.
“Optimus,” Wings greeted, desperately trying to regain some dignity.
“Orion,” he corrected. At Wings’ surprised (but pleased) expression, he elaborated, “I was the one who you talked to back in cyberspace a couple solar cycles ago. Uh… thank you, for bringing that to our attention.”
“Of course,” Wings said, their servos clasped behind their back. They tried to remain cool and neutral, but Orion could see the excitement in their optic. “It is nice to speak with you properly.”
“Thanks,” Orion said, not quite willing to lie and say “you too.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t answer my question. Is there something you need?”
“Not quite,” Blitzwing hesitated. “I was… hoping to speak to Optimus. My Optimus.”
“She’s not yours,” Orion snapped, but felt a bit sheepish as Blitzwing flinched back. A part of him was a bit annoyed Blitzwing hadn’t wanted to seek him out, instead just looking for the person he liked better. Orion understood why – he wasn’t exactly lining up to get the chance to be Blitzwing’s partner – but it still stung even though it shouldn’t matter at all. “I get what you’re trying to say. I think she goes by Optima now– or not, she still likes the name Optimus. Sari’s been trying to recommend new names for her to use so it’s not confusing for all of us.”
“I see. Thank you, then,” Blitzwing made to leave, but hesitated. “Could you… leave a note for Optimus or something of the like? We’d like to speak to her again, if she wants.”
Orion shifted, discomfort in his tanks at the idea of “the boss” of the system continuing to date this maniac. But that wasn’t his choice to make, unfortunately, so he nodded and kept walking.
This wasn’t Optimus.
They looked like her. They sounded like her. They acted like her. They even claimed to be her. But it wasn’t. Their finials moved too much, their smiles too warm and their sternness too soft. It wasn’t bad, not by any means. But it left Blitzwing curious— and more than a little annoyed that whoever this was was claiming Optimus’ own identity as theirs. Not that Blitzwing didn’t understand that.
Perhaps they’d been happy at the thought of seeing her again. It had been solar cycles since. Was she angry with them, or nervous?
Whether she was or not, Blitzwing knew the stranger in front of them wasn’t her.
“Have we met before?” Blitzwing asked, tone pointedly measured.
Optimus froze. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t seem familiar to me,” Wings said, shifting so they felt more comfortable. They and Optimus — or whoever this was — had gone on a date on one of Earth’s hills. An old location for the two of them. Blitzwing had been overjoyed to know that Optimus wanted them still, even if she brushed off any questions they had. Now they knew why.
Optimus’ face dropped, their finials turning downward as they looked down at their lap.
“Oh,” they chuckled. “I thought my imitation was perfect.”
“It was good,” Wings conceded, “but Optimus isn’t as open as you. And she doesn’t sit like that— it’s more stiff and uniform.” They gestured to Optimus, how they were resting with their legs tucked under knees, as though they were kneeling.
“I see,” Optimus breathed out, rubbing the back of their neck with their servo. “You don’t sound upset.”
“I’ve yet to have a reason to be,” Wings said. “Though it disappoints me that I still haven’t spoken to Optimus, I don’t dislike learning more about you.”
“I’m not the Optimus you’re looking for, but I was hoping if I could be her it would make you happy. Besides, it’s easier for everyone that way— if it’s just her,” they shrugged. “Guess my impressions still have a way to go.”
Blitzwing narrowed their optic. “Do you have a designation?”
Optimus gave a playful smile. “You’re nosy, aren’t you?”
“So?” Blitzwing grinned right back, showing his teeth. “Can you blame us?”
“I guess not. It’s not like we know much about ourselves either— we’ve mostly been trying to keep a routine so things can feel normal. We’ve tried talking to each other but that hasn’t been super successful,” they sighed. “I’m Requiem, I think. That’s the name I gave myself.”
“I see,” Blitzwing hoarded this information, treasured it like a prize. “Requiem— have we done something to upset Optimus?”
Requiem cycled their optics. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“She hasn’t spoken to us in solar cycles. It seems the only time we ever cross paths with you is when she’s not here,” Blitzwing said. “Have we offended her somehow?”
Requiem thought for a moment, staring out at the Earth’s setting sun.
“She’s not upset, I don’t think. We haven’t really ‘talked,’ but I can feel what she’s feeling. I think she’s just nervous and doesn’t know where to start with you. She’s happy — or at least getting there — and is coming to terms with this better than most of us are. But we’re all pretty unsure about you,” Requiem shrugged. “We don’t know if you’re only interested in being with her and not any of us, or if you’d even like any of us now that you know we’re not the single person you thought we were. Optimus fronted the most whenever you were around, but it was never just her. My memory on these things is bad, but I know I was around a lot, and Moonflower was too. It was never just one mech you were with. None of us really know how to move forward with that, or how you feel about that. I think Optimus is afraid to ask.”
Blitzwing was silent. Requiem fidgeted, looking away and back at the view.
“She was going to see you a while ago,” Requiem added, “but Ratchet stopped her while she was on her way to talk to you, and the checkup gave her enough time to talk herself out of it.”
That stupid scrapheap of a medic! Blitz roared, making Wings have to suppress any reaction lest he worry Requiem even further.
“I wish we could see you all,” Blitzwing said suddenly, making Requiem startle. “It is as I said before, Requiem; we do not dislike learning about all of you. All of you are Optimus— that you are not what we previously thought does not change that. Neither does it change the fact that we care about you,” he couldn’t help but add, “and it would be nice to stop having to hold Blitz and Zing back from trying to tear out everything you are from your processor so they can know everything about you. I can only save their afts from messing everything up so many times.”
Excuse me??
Afthole!
That got a small laugh from Requiem. “That makes me feel better. Really. Though if you actually do want to see all of us, shouldn’t you be able to do it through cyberspace? I know Carrus wouldn’t love it for sure, but…”
Blitzwing’s optic lit up. “That is true.” Perhaps a bit hastily, they grabbed Requiem’s servos and opened the ports and plugs in their own, looming over the smaller bot.
“Oh! You want– right now. Okay.” Requiem tightened their grip, allowing Blitzwing to plug their cables into their ports.
Blitzwing shuttered their optics, and only felt satisfied when they heard Requiem do the same.
Optimus felt something poke at her. It nudged at her mind, wheedling, pleading. It felt familiar, so Optimus let it in. That’s when she felt two strong arms wrap around her body, squeezing tight in a greedy hug. They curled around the bulk of her jetpack, crushing her to their chest.
Suddenly, everything formed before her. “Zing,” Optimus said, recognition sparking inside her.
Zing purred, nuzzling their helm against hers. “Optimus, Sweetspark!” They said, falling on top of her so they could begin pressing feverish kisses to the side and top of her face. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Liebling.”
“Quit being greedy!” Blitz roared, shoving Zing off so he could hoard Optimus into his grasp. He clutched onto her like she was something precious that was going to be taken from him. Which wasn’t inaccurate, judging by the displeased looks from Zing and Wings.
“It is good to see you again, Optimus,” Wings said, taking Optimus’ free servo and squeezing it. Blitz huffed, but didn’t say anything.
“Sorry I haven’t been around much,” Optimus said. “It’s been… complicated for me.”
“We know. Requiem gave us a vague picture,” Wings said. Optimus frowned.
“Requiem?” She echoed, confusion clear in your voice.
“Your headmate? Do you not know their name?”
“Wings, you vastly overestimate just how much I know about myself.”
That made Zing giggle. “Have you at least been well, Sweetspark?”
“I like to think I have. It’s been strange just how much I’m noticing now that I know to look for it, but it hasn’t been bad,” Optimus said, still tucked snugly in Blitz’s possessive grasp. “I think the hardest part has been adjusting to all the thoughts in my head now that I know they’re not all mine.”
“It’s been strange for most of us too,” A smooth, light voice chimed in.
Everyone except Optimus jumped, Blitz even whipping around and hissing his displeasure. “Blackarachnia?! How did you get in here, you scum-coated–”
Blitz paused. Though it was a spider he was looking at, it wasn’t Blackarachnia. A small, ten-foot tall human-shaped woman stared back, unbothered by the sudden hostility. Her body was segmented in plates, similar to the exoskeleton of an insect. Six luminous red eyes with white lashes blinked simultaneously, three pairs of arms tucked politely behind her back. She was a stout Black woman, with white koroba braids trailing down her shoulders and back. Though her chest and shoulders were covered by armor, a white dress trailed down to her feet, which were covered in bristles and had two claws protruding from them.
“Oh,” the woman blinked, her voice like Blackarachnia’s but not– it was too gentle, too light and calm to be her. “Did I startle you all? I thought you would all expect me since you suggested coming in here yourselves.”
Optimus smiled, very clearly trying to hide any arachnophobic reactions. “It’s fine, Moonflower. I think we just weren’t expecting it.”
“Just don’t crush me,” Moonflower joked. “It’s nice to see your real bodies too– oh!”
Her words were interrupted by Zing crowding her into his hands like a small animal, holding her up to his faceplate and cooing. Moonflower, for her part, appeared unbothered by the sudden manhandling, grabbing Zing’s digit with her hand as he poked her cheek..
“Hello beautiful!” Zing giggled, taking his servo away to better admire the woman in his palms. “It’s nice to see the real you as well!” As if in some show of solidarity, he flicked his pairs of wings, tail lashing behind him. Moonflower hummed, an easy smile on her face.
“It’s good to see you too,” she said. Zing grinned and leaned in to press a kiss to the entire side of her head.
“Careful, don’t break him now,” an amused voice cut in. Large talons gently scooped Moonflower out from Zing’s servos and set him back on the floor. Zing pouted, turning to look at the source, only to pause.
A large grey-black beast chuckled, lines of molten-colored oranges and reds running across her body. Her optics were like pools of lava, her wings a bright orange color. It was as though someone had decided to bring molten lava to life and sculpt it into the form of a cybertronian dragon, the mechanics in her body loud and powerful. Her horns curled, black as charcoal.
“You look so surprised,” she said. “There’s no need to be frightened, you know. Do you not recognize me?”
Her voice was certainly familiar– though no longer bound by Optimus’ voicebox, the accent was recognizeable, as was the measured and confident cadence of her words. Her voice was deep.
“I don’t believe you gave us your name,” Wings said, because someone had to be the functional one while Zing and Blitz were still stunned.
“That's true,” she mused. “I am Igneous. I don’t think we’ve spoken much beyond that solar cycle in the hall– a shame, really. It is nice to see all of you again, now that we’re all here.”
“Is this all of us?” Optimus asked, gently prying herself out of Blitz’s grip. Blitz looked offended, but Optimus patted his shoulder in assurance. Huffing, he looked away and crossed his arms.
“I don’t believe so,” Igneous said. She lowered herself to rest her muzzle against the ground, the void slowly fizzling into something more familiar. The Orion– Optimus recognized it herself, though it was definitely bigger than it was in reality. It had to be, in order to comfortably house Igneous, who was only half of Omega Supreme’s height. “Orion isn’t here– I know he wanted no part in this. He finds Blitzwing to be a crazed nuisance. No offense intended on my part, of course,” she added at Blitz’s offended growl. “Carrus definitely isn’t here, I didn’t have to ask her to know that.” She turned towards Wings, Zing and Blitz. “You’ve met her before, she’s the one who rebuffed you in the elevator. It’s nothing personal– she’s simply a very zealous Autobot. She despises all Decepticons. As for Requiem–”
“I’m here,” Requiem chimed in, stepping out from behind Wings and making the mech jump. Requiem helped them up with a quick apology. He looked so similar to Optimus, except… not. His plating was grey and dull, the only color on him being the blue of his optics. Instead of pedes, the lower half of his body was four-legged and shaped like a horse, metallic hooves clicking against the floor. “I was nervous, I’ll admit, so I waited to see how you all would react. I wasn’t sure whether or not it would disturb you,” he smiled ruefully. “We’re definitely more strange than you three, some of us aren’t ‘Optimus’ at all.” Igneous rolled her optics at that, but didn’t say anything.
Wings regained some of his confidence. “If you want to find mechs easily disturbed, I’m afraid you’ll need to look somewhere else. It will take far more than this to turn us away from you.”
Requiem flushed, his already dark faceplate turning a darker grey color.
“We want to know everything about you, Liebes,” Zing said emphatically, wrapping around Optimus like a hungry scraplet. Their glossa flicked out and teased the side of Optimus’ faceplate, making her give a fondly exasperated smile and bat it away. “So tell us everything. I’m already crazy for you, Sweetspark! Don’t drive me even more mad, that’d just be mean.”
“I’ll be sure to make it up to you then,” Optimus smiled. Igneous nudged her pointedly, and Optimus amended her statement, “we’ll make it up to you.”
Zing grinned, both satisfied and ever-hungry. He kisses the side of Optimus’ intake. “We look forward to it then, Liebes.”