Buzzkill. LOG-004.

Buzzkill.

LOG-004.

“Jackpot.”

The word, long since burned into his processor via exposure to the human force of nature that was Miko, escaped in a burst of Cybertronian morse code as Bumblebee continued to inspect what would, with a bit of work, hopefully be his new basecamp.

At least for the time being.

Aside from a few other helpful finds, including the Immobilizer (he was careful to handle the weapon, setting it back in place after a brief inspection), a one mech hover unit that Raf would probably label a scooter upon even the most basic of observation, alongside a few medical tools and other assorted supplies, the main thing that kept the scout’s attention was the five protoforms stored in pods within one of the deepest parts of the Harbinger.

His servos hovered over the console presumably connected to the pods for a moment, before he slowly lowered them, shaking his helm.

Potentially homegrown reinforcements could be useful, but moral implications aside (he was certain he could feel Optimus’ disapproving stare from the beyond at the thought) he wasn’t exactly in a position to feed five extra sparks.

The protoforms could sit right where they were for now. Worst case scenario, he could always decide what to do with them later.

Besides, he was fairly sure he’d spotted what looked like some kind of weird groundbridge on his way in here. That seemed a lot more promising…

—

“It wasn’t your fault, Soundwave.”

The mech’s blank visor glanced upwards in response, staring into soft blue optics as a gentle servo landed upon his shoulder, before he shrugged slightly.

“Soundwave: Understands. Feels responsible nonetheless.”

Starscream frowned at his counterpart’s statement. Even as he thought of how else he could cheer up the Decepticons’ premier intelligence officer.

Yes, Nemesis Prime successfully escaping the coma he’d been trapped in was…unideal. But the mad despot no longer manipulating Soundwave’s mind from within was most certainly a cause for (at least minor) celebration.

…Perhaps a distraction instead? To get his processor off of the issue.

“You’ve been at that terminal more than usual. Young Rafael has expressed his concerns. It must be important to have you so obsessed, hm?”

A pause, then a slow nod, the slender mech gesturing to the holographic screen in front of him with a spindly servo.

“Surveillance: Suggests increased Autobot activity. Uncertain as to why. Forward reconnaissance elements have been observed within isolated areas.”

At that, the 2IC’s interest was piqued, the Seeker leaning forward to glance at the footage (no doubt collected by Laserbeak during one of her scouting runs) and watching with narrowed optics as the familiar vehicular forms of a trio of Autotroopers made their way across the Nevadan landscape.

“Concerning. Did you manage to pull anything from their communications?”

A slight shake, followed by a nod.

“Little: Encryption remains heavy. All Soundwave knows is that they are looking for someone.”

The Seeker nodded back at that, before wincing slightly as a loud crashing sound echoed from somewhere down the hall.

“MIKO! I NEEDED THAT!”

Both mechs stared at each other for a moment, before collectively deciding to ignore the ruckus, instead focusing back on the terminal between them.

—

The familiar sound of the groundbridge shutting down behind him drew Bumblebee’s attention for a moment, before the scout shook his helm and focused back on his self assigned mission.

Resource procurement.

Aside from patrol routes and general information, the black and yellow mech had made the fortunate decision to download the coordinates of several energon mines from Teletraan I, before being driven off.

Of particular note was that this particular one was minor compared to the others, and thus lightly guarded.

…Even if the thought of the Autobots having enough mechpower to establish their own mining facilities on Earth was still an odd one, especially considering under different circumstances, it’d likely be a cause for celebration.

But it wasn’t, which of course led him to here and now, his vents cycling slowly, keeping his engine as quiet as possible as he watched the Autotroopers below.

The rhythmic clanking of pedes against stone filled the air, accompanied by the low hum of energon processing equipment. Shadows flickered across the canyon walls from mounted floodlights, creating brief pockets of darkness as the workers hauled cube after cube of processed energon from the cave’s mouth to the loading area.

Twelve miners. Four guards. Two towers that seemed geared for surveillance. Bumblebee counted again, processor whirring slightly as he took everything in.

The soldiers, slightly sleeker and distinctly more armed than their worker counterparts, stood at opposite sides of the loading zone, blasters at the ready. Each had that uncomfortably purple Autobot insignia emblazoned across their chest plates, red visors scanning the area.

They were familiar enough that he could write them off as Vehicon clones, but it still felt wrong somehow. Bumblebee ground his denta together behind his battle mask at the feeling.

…Still, he didn’t exactly have much time to dwell on things. Instead, he tapped into his scout protocols, artificial instincts kicking in as he shifted his weight and began moving along the cliff edge, staying low.

The right moment came because of an organic bird letting out a screeching cry from above, funnily enough, the sound effectively drawing the attention of the northern guard. Bumblebee darted forward as he looked away, rolling silently down the embankment and sliding behind a stack of empty energon crates.

One cube remained, half full and glowing softly. Perfect.

Stay quiet. Get in. Get out. The mantra repeated in his helm, over and over, even as he crept along the perimeter, servo brushing the wall for stability as he ducked past the first loading platform. The southern guard turned away, optics sweeping the opposite side of the mine.

Now.

Without hesitation, Bumblebee lunged forward, retractable blade sliding free with a soft shink. He grabbed the Autotrooper from behind, twisting the blade upward into his backplate seam.

“Urk-!”

The guard stiffened as his spark was sliced into, visor flickering before he collapsed with a dull thud into his killer’s waiting arms.

Naturally, the scout immediately dragged the dead frame into the shadows, dimming his own optics to avoid detection.

One down.

The second guard, stationed near a stack of filled cubes, glanced up briefly as another worker drone passed by. Bumblebee sidestepped behind a support pillar, waiting for the guard to approach the worker to berate its sluggish pace for what had to be the third time in a row.

And again.

The scout struck fast, hooking an arm around the guard’s neck cables while his other servo roughly jabbed a trio of digits into his side plating, stunning him. Muffled grunts didn’t save him from the subsequent stabbing, the guard convulsing for a moment before slumping.

Intaking air as quietly as he could, Bumblebee eased the limp frame to the ground as well.

Two down.

But the victory was short lived. One of the tower spotlights swept across the loading zone and caught the edge of his shoulder plating, reflecting briefly off of his yellow highlights.

There went his stealth mission, so…loud it was then.

“Hey! Intruder!”

He cursed and transformed instantly, tires screeching against loose gravel as he accelerated toward the loading zone. Blaster fire rained down from the towers, scorching the ground behind him, the two remaining guards hesitating briefly as they actually took in his form.

“Is-is that Yellowjacket!?” The uncertain question was barked over the local comms, and for what felt like the millionth time, Bumblebee thanked Primus that he’d been given such a stupidly lucky advantage in knowing what his current enemies were talking about.

Skidding sideways and reverting to root mode long enough to snatch two energon cubes from the nearest stack, he shoved them into his subspace storage before ducking behind a support strut.

Too much energon left behind. If these not-Autobots reclaimed it, it’d assist in potentially tracking him down, fueling ground bridges, ammunition, and mechs. He couldn’t allow that.

“It’s not him! Send out a call to command, it’s that damned impostor!”

His optics darted toward the rocky overhang above the mine entrance. A structural weakness. Perfect.

The scout shifted his right arm, blaster replacing his servo with a soft click. From there, it was a simple enough matter of just aiming carefully, barrel steady despite the blasterfire now whizzing past his helm.

…They really were just like Vehicons. Loud and inaccurate as scrap.

A sharp sound carved through the air as the charged bolt struck the overhang’s stress point, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the rock face groaned, cracks springing outward like long fingers.

“Cave in! Get clear!” One worker shouted, throwing down an empty cube and running for it, even as more shouts echoed from further inside the complex.

Bumblebee transformed mid stride, engine roaring as he raced away from the collapsing mine entrance. The ground shook beneath his tires, and plumes of dust and debris billowed skyward, obscuring the floodlights.

He didn't look back, focusing instead on interacting with the remote safely contained within his frame.

And…ground bridge coordinates locked.

The familiar whirring portal opened ahead, green light spilling across the darkened terrain. Spark thrumming, the scout shot through the event horizon just as what he now realised was a tower mounted turret turned and fired, the storm of bolts dispersing harmlessly against the collapsing rift.

Louder than he would have liked, significantly louder…but the feeling of more energon cubes filling his subspace felt worth it. Bulkhead (his Bulkhead), Wheeljack and Miko probably would have approved.

—

“Just more of the usual apparently, you know how Miko gets when she’s bored-”

The quiet hum of the bridge consoles was broken by the sharp ping of an alert, interrupting the Decepticon medic. Soundwave’s visor flickered as new data scrolled across his screen, cerulean lines flashing in rapid succession.

Starscream, perched near the tactical station, quirked a brow plate, even as Knockout crossed his arms from behind the Seeker. “More Autobot chatter? Another potential supply raid, perhaps?”

The intelligence officer didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his spindly digits danced across the interface, isolating the encrypted comms frequency. Fragments of conversation filtering through.

“-mine’s gone! Energon cache destroyed. Lookalike was spotted-”

The one the Autobots were searching for, presumably.

Knockout’s doorwings flicked upward in surprise, the blue mech visibly curious. “Lookalike? Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

Slowly, Soundwave’s helm tilted as he isolated more of the fragmented dialogue.

“-wasn't Yellowjacket-optics were blue-”

…

“-not one of ours-repeat, not one of ours!”

The comms dissolved into static from there, the window of opportunity now closed. His visor dimmed briefly before returning to full brightness.

Starscream frowned in the meantime, his own wings twitching. “Another of that mad mech Ratchet’s experiments gone wrong, perhaps? Or something else entirely?”

Soundwave remained silent, but the faint pulse of his visor betrayed a deeper curiosity. A team would need to be dispatched to survey those coordinates, when they got the chance. Megatron would need to be informed as well, as a matter of course.

After all, who besides the Decepticons would be going around disrupting Autobot mining operations?