Chapter Text
It had been way too long since Blurr had come back home.
Wheelie was used to Blurr being away on long trips, and he had warned him especially that this trip might be an even longer one, but this just felt excessive.
That and there was the feeling that something was wrong. Wheelie always had some sort of feeling of when things were wrong and when things were right, and right now it was the former.
He sat in his room, tapping his hand against the ground. What does he do? Blurr always told him not to go into the city by himself, but Dug Base was busy right now. And Wheelie was determined to find out where Blurr was!
It wouldn’t be that difficult anyway, it wasn’t a long drive. He would just send a quick message to Dug Base to let him know where he went.
Wheelie gets up, leaving his room to go to the “office” space in the home, where Blurr keeps everything important. Like the datapads. He scurries over to the high shelves. He can’t reach up that far. Blurr likely did that on purpose.
That’s okay! He’s always innovative. Wheelie drags over a chair with an awful screeching noise, and climbs on top of it. He can almost reach it, but not quite. So he jumps, grabbing onto the shelf. He pulls himself up, grabbing the datapad and then slipping and falling to the ground.
He hits the floor with a thud, dazed. But victorious! He sits up, turning on the datapad and going to messages.
Dug Base, it’s me Wheelie!
The one and only!
He frowns. That rhyme is a stretch, but there aren’t many things that rhyme with his name, unfortunately.
Don’t worry about me, I’m looking for Blurr.
I’ll find a clue in the city, from what I might infer.
He hits send, and then places the datapad on the table. He wouldn't be able to put it back on the shelf.
Alright! And that’s that- wait, he almost forgot!
Wheelie runs back to his room, and grabs his trusty slingshot, slipping it into subspace along with a few glowing rocks for ammo. You never know what you might run into.
It probably wasn’t safe for someone so young and small to drive all the way into the city, but Blurr and Dug Base would understand!
Wheelie transforms back into his robot mode once he gets into the city, looking around curiously. It was crowded, and he got a few odd looks, but other bots mostly ignored him.
“Now then… where does Blurr work?” he wonders out loud. “I could ask someone for directions, I hope they aren’t a jerk.”
Hmm… maybe that big building he can see even from the ground? He knows Blurr’s work is important. He’s part of the Elite Guard, so maybe that’s where he can find information!
Wheelie goes back to his vehicle mode and takes off, driving around the legs of other bots. There’s a ramp leading up to the building, he’s quite small compared to it.
He gets to the top, now free from the crowd. He can look over the busy city now, it’s actually kind of pretty.
But he has no time to be admiring the sights! He has a friend to find!
Wheelie scampers inside the building, spotting a small red bot at a desk looking bored. He doesn't seem to notice Wheelie.
Wheelie walks up to the desk, standing on his stabilizing servo digits to be able to see over the edge of the desk.
“Hello? I’m looking for someone,” he calls out, the red bot looking up from his computer and then down at Wheelie. “The blue bot that you can’t outrun.”
The red bot looks at Wheelie, confused. He’s used to that, everyone thinks his rhyming is weird.
“Blurr! I’m looking for him,” Wheelie says. “He hasn’t been home, I hope the reason isn’t grim.”
“Uhh… I can’t provide any info about intel agents,” the red bot says.”That’s classified information.”
“Whaaat? You can tell me!” Wheelie pouts. “I’m trustworthy, you see!”
“No, I can’t. I’m busy right now anyway, okay? You’ll have to leave.”
Wheelie stomps his stabilizing servo. He hates when he doesn't get his way.
But he has a knack for getting what he wants, whatever the cost.
“Fine. I’ll go. But I’ll find him, you know.”
“Okay, whatever.”
The red bot returns to his work, typing away at the computer.
Wheelie turns to leave, but as soon as he’s out the door, he goes and hides in a corner only he could fit in, out of sight. And he waits.
Wheelie is growing bored. He’s been waiting here for what seems like MEGACYCLES. He feels like he’s about to fall asleep. But finally, all his waiting pays off- he sees the red bot leave the building. Perfect!
As soon as he’s a distance away, Wheelie jumps out of his hiding spot, running back into the building.
“Hehe! I did it! Now to find where Blurr is, just in a bit!” he giggles to himself, looking around the room with curiosity. There’s the red bots computer, but Wheelie has his sights set on something else. He sees a nameplate on the wall. Longarm Prime.
“A prime, that’s sure to have a clue! I think a visit to that office is due,” Wheelie says, walking over to the sliding doors of Longarm Prime’s office. They open, Wheelie peering in from around the corner. Looks like no one’s inside. Lucky him.
Wheelie enters the office, going right over to the desk with the computer on it. He hops into the chair, and turns the computer on.
Password required.
Well this puts a wrench in the situation. Wheelie frowns, and decides to just guess, typing random numbers and letters on the keyboard. To no one’s surprise, that doesn’t work.
“How do I do this? I can’t just guess. Not knowing the password really causes distress,” he mumbles to himself, entering one more string of random keys before the words ‘You have been locked out for five cycles. Please try again later’ appear on screen. Maybe he should have been more careful.
He hears footsteps.
Wheelie gasps, jumping out of the chair and running to the center of the room, looking around wildly for a place to hide. There were some file cabinets over in the corner, and Wheelie dashed over, shoving himself behind the cabinets to hide.
The doors opened, Wheelie hiding just in time. In walked a bot Wheelie assumed was Longarm Prime. He was blue and grey, and Wheelie’s gaze was immediately drawn to his eyes. They looked dead.
He does always get that feeling that something is wrong…
Two eyes, it’s all lies, Wheelie thought to himself.
He’d consider he’s overreacting if he wasn’t so confident that he’s always right.
Longarm sits down at the desk, looking at his computer in confusion.
“What…” he trails off, seeing that he’s locked out of his own computer.
Wheelie freezes. He doesn’t suspect that someone is here, does he? He can’t hear the nervous whirr of Wheelie’s fans, right?
“Must be bugged,” Longarm shrugs, sitting back and waiting for the computer to unlock itself so he can enter the password.
Phew.
As soon as the computer unlocks, Longarm types in the password and starts doing some work.
Ugh! Wheelie is now trapped here, stuck while this bot does boring computer work! Then Longarm takes out a smaller datapad, and-
And-
And turns into a tall mech, right before Wheelie’s optics. He can see the violet logo on the mech’s chestplate.
This was a Decepticon.
Wheelie gasps, immediately covering his mouth. Longarm- if that even was his name -looks up from his desk. Wheelie presses himself further into the crevice. He can hear the sound of his own spark beating quickly. He stays absolutely still, hoping that the Decepticon didn’t hear him.
“Lord Megatron, come in,” the Decepticon says, looking at the datapad. “This is Shockwave.”
Shockwave. That was his real name.
“Lord Megatron? Please come in,” he says, furiously tapping at the screen of the datapad with his claws. “I’ll leave a message. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up my disguise here. I’ve had much too many close calls. I had to dispose of some evidence earlier. If I get closer to being discovered, and if Optimus Prime’s team manages to contact Cybertron, my cover is blown.”
Wheelie stayed quiet, staring at Shockwave. He can’t believe it. This is a real Decepticon, right in front of him. And disguised as the head of Autobot intelligence! As a prime!
This. This was bad.
“I’ll work on keeping them from contacting Cybertron as long as I can, but I don’t know how much time I have. This is Shockwave, signing out.”
Shockwave puts away the datapad in his desk, and sits there. Contemplating. If he’s feeling any emotion, his face doesn’t give it away.
“What am I going to do…” he says quietly, before shifting back into the form of the dead eyed Autobot.
Not a moment too soon, because only a few nanokliks after he did that, there was a knock on the door.
“Longarm Prime, sir! It’s Cliffjumper!” says a voice from outside the office. “I’m here to hand in today’s reports!”
“Come in, Agent Cliffjumper,” Longarm says, sounding tired. Cliffjumper walks in, carrying an armful of datapads, placing them delicately on Longarm’s desk.
“Sir, are you okay?” Cliffjumper asks.
“Yes, yes, just stressed,” Longarm says with a wave of his servo. “I’ll be fine.”
It wasn’t a lie, technically.
“Alright, then,” Cliffjumper says, and leaves. He isn’t the type to try and pry into why Longarm was so stressed.
Longarm then begins to sort through the datapads like everything was normal, as if Wheelie hadn’t just seen him turn into a scary looking Decepticon.
What does he do? Does he jump out, attacking with his slingshot? No, that would be a stupid plan, even he knew that. What he had to do was wait for Longarm to leave, and then find someone to tell.
However long that may be.