A/N: This is my first Transformers story so PLEASE be gentle. I'm really trying to write this accurately but i'm still adjusting to not writing "hand" and having to write "servo". If I mess up, tell me and I'll correct it in the future. (By mess up I don't mean grammatically or spelling since I know I miss those constantly. I mean as far as Transformer slang and whatnot goes.) M'kay? Well, enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers. If I did, I'd be rich. These OC's are mine and the "entbots" are an alliance I created.
"I just don't know what to do about him," the caretaker groaned. Cinderflare's red optics fell onto the youngling pressed to the corner of his room, staring out the window as if no one were there. His blue visor flashed a bit at his caretaker's pained words but he had no other reaction. From what she could recover, the youngling had lost his creators in a fire. His current caretaker, a large femme autobot named Rainer, seemed at her wit's end, unable to get this tiny bot out of his depression. Of course, many of the younglings in the orphanage had terrible pasts, some worse than others. Caretakers were trained on soothing them and adjusting them to a new environment. However, this little black and gold wonder and given them a run for their credits.
Cinderflare's alliance, though decepticon, also belonged to a team called the entbots, short for entertainment robots. The ultimately neutral alliance had prevented either side from bothering them by simply singing and dancing, showing no desire for a war or to join sides. Autobots were usually comfortable with these terms though Megatron always tried to snag as many members as possible to train into his own warriors. The entbots went a long way in trying to hide their identity though, only being rumored of as a safe haven from the war but many not being lucky enough to find them except for certain orphanages in cases like the present one.
The con slowly approached the youngling as Rainer stayed by the door, her gaze filled with worry for both the youngling and the con's reaction. "Hello," Cinderflare greeted, her tone suggesting she were talking to someone older. The youngling tensed more so than before, his knees drawn up to his chest plating. The uncomfortable air around him must have been felt by the con as she took a few steps back. "I'm Cinderflare," she offered, silently prompting him with a response though the youngling did not oblige her. "I am going to take you to a new ship." Once again, it was a prompt for him to speak but the only indication she knew he could even hear her was his head slowly moving from the window to a seemingly interesting floor tile. The youngling was cautiously picked up, the two femmes wondering if he was going to wail and click but he was an empty shell, his body not reacting to being picked up. The femmes wished each other luck and bid farewell.
Upon entering the small ship that would be transporting them back to the Ark IV, the base for the entbots, the youngling finally began to move a bit in Cinderflare's arms, not used to the chill of the room. She clicked to him quietly, trying to shush him and it eventually worked as she held him close to her spark, radiating him in the heat of it. His blue visor dimmed to black, a sign he was slipping into recharge. The femme smiled gently, setting course for the Ark IV, a clicking youngling fast asleep in her arms.
The youngling hesitantly opened his eyes, dipping his digits beneath his visor to rub his optics of recharge. "Ah, there he is," a mech's voice boomed, jolting the youngling from his recharge fully, his optics wide behind the visor. His optics found the source of the loud booming voice: a bright blue and white mech with deep blue optics and a large grin. From what the young mech could tell, he was in a medbay. Wires and tools were hung up everywhere from a little above his reach to the ceiling where some cons were looking down at him at the sound of the blue mech's voice. "The name's Riffraff, kid. I'm the lead medic 'round here," he informed. "What's your name," Riffraff pressed, now seeming to turn more serious since he knew the youngling wasn't exactly sociable.
The youngling stared down at his stabilizing servos, swinging them back and forth as he sat on the large examining table. "Prowl," he finally muttered, his voice nearly surprising him with not having used it in more than a metacycle.
He flinched again at the booming laugh of the medic. "At last! He speaks," he exclaimed, his grin even wider than before, writing it down on a datapad.
Now that Prowl had found his voice he couldn't help but voice his curiosity. "What's that for," he asked, gesturing his head vaguely to the datapad.
Riffraff glanced up to see what he was referring to then replied, "Just some info I need on you for the records, for my superiors, and for your health." The youngling nodded. After a few breems of silence, Riffraff continued his questioning and everything went smoothly until: "So your creator and carrier-"
"What about 'em?" Prowl all but snarled as he tensed up, his visor glowing.
Riffraff raised an optic ridge. "A touchy subject, I know, but you can't keep this bottled up in your spark, Prowl. It's harming you more than helping."
Prowl tensed more so and got to his stabilizing servos, pacing the table before retreating to the end farthest from the questioning medic. At the sound of his name being called after a minute, Prowl's engine gave a roar and he fixed the medic with a glare, his denta clenched together. The medic only stared him down as breems went by. The anger finally built itself into painful memories inside the youngling's spark. He turned away from the medic's stare finally, turning his back as he brought his knees up and hugged them, placing his chevron on top of them. He vaguely heard the roll of a chair come closer and flinched as a servo was placed on his back, a digit drawing traces on his plating, trying to calm him. The only thing the motion did was make him worse, the motion bringing back memories of his carrier.
A pain built up in his chest plating, a pain he hadn't felt since the day his creators went up in fire along with his home. He tensed more so, wanting that pain to just go away but it only got worse until he finally collapsed into pathetic sobs, not caring about the embarrassment he was sure to feel in front of this new friend. The big hand on his back stopped its motions and instead pulled Prowl to Riffraff who held him to his chest plating, rubbing circles on his back plating and touching the soft sensors on the sides of his head. Riffraff let out a vent of air, equivalent to a sigh, as the youngling's wails of audio receptor breaking intensity finally settled to little more than soft hiccups. His optics looked hesitantly up to the medic, expecting him to be annoyed but only found a soft smile when his optics were met.
/Riffraff, is everything all right in the medbay? I heard some youngling screams,/ voiced Crystalsky over his comlink.
/No, ma'am, he's just fine. Just a bit of a scare is all,/ he replied, carrying the still hiccupping youngling to one of the recovery rooms in the back of the medbay. A small recharge berth lay on the side of the room. "It's all right, Prowl," he cooed, trying to get the youngling from clinging to his plating and into the berth. The hiccups slowed down as he went about rearranging some of the boxes in the room. He moved to leave but paused at the sound of very worried clicking as Prowl's small head lifted from the berth, afraid to be alone in such a foreign and dark place.
He peeked back at his patient curiously, trying to see if he was in pain or just scared. "Stay," begged Prowl, his voice small and scared compared to how angry he had been earlier.
Riffraff frowned. "I wish I could, buddy, but I have some work to get done." The dejected and hurt look on the youngling's faceplates was one to make a mech's spark split. "All right. Just for a little bit though," he replied reluctantly which made the youngling instantly perk up. As he sat by the dozing youngling, he gave a jump as a small servo touched his that was resting on the berth, curling around one digit. The medic gave a light smile, leaning his head back as he now realized he wouldn't be getting any work done tonight.
A/N: Yay? Nay? Review! :D Feel free to ask questions too~ Oh! If any of you are going to continue to read, I'd like to add that there will be song fics in here later because well.. entbots... singing.. songs...=song fic? :D