Transformers: New Generation -- Pt 1

chapter 4 -- nightmares and risky planning

✔️ Rewritten & Edited

Optimus couldn't see anything. It was like his helm had been covered by a black blanket that he couldn't feel. He couldn't feel the berth underneath him, giving him the weird feeling of weightlessness. He started to panic, desperately looking around for anything or anyone.

Am I injured again? He thought, What's happening?

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the darkness. It didn't belong to anyone that he knew, as far as his current memories were concerned.

"Orion!"

There was a pause, a deafening silence falling over the void. There was a chorus of laughter -- the sadistic, jeering kind of laughter -- that told him that the laughing Cybertronians enjoyed hearing the panic and fear in their vocalizer. There was an echoey crack, followed by a crackled cry of pain that sounded as if it originated from Optimus himself. There was more laughter, then an emotionally-pained scream.

"Stop! Don't hurt him!" The panicking voice yelled.

Another crack, the panicked Cybertronian yelling in pain this time. A new sound came -- the cocking of a blaster. Optimus felt the phantom feeling of the cold metal alloy being pressed against the back-center of his helm. He could feel lubricant drip from his eyes,  though he didn't know if that was in reality or in the nightmare.

"Ready to say goodbye to your friend, traitor?" A cold, sadistic voice sneered.

The Cybertronian's (Decepticon-aligned, he guessed) words made Optimus shiver. Another cry was heard, filled with sorrow. They didn't want this Orion person to die.

"NO!"

And then... BANG.

Optimus awoke with a start right after the gunshot. He sat up quickly, breaths heavy, and looked around the room with wide optics. The lights were on within the cabin, and the other berths were empty. Waking up further, he could hear Autobots walking past the cabins and chatting, sometimes running and yelling. He groaned, crossing his legs and leaning over them, holding his helm in his servos with shuddered optics. He took a deep breath, then released it to cool his systems. He succeeded, and he lied back down, arms hanging over the sides of the berth.

"What in the name of Prima was that?" He mumbled, onlining his optics.

After he said that, the door slid open. Optimus turned his helm to see who was there. In the doorway was Jetfire, wings perked up and optics dull. The flier raised an optic ridge upon seeing the new Autobot's distressed state, though he didn't mention it. The red and blue Cybertronian gave a weak smile, his wave matching the same energy, which prompted Jetfire to walk inside.

"Took you long enough." He grumbled, walking towards him and sitting on the ladder.

Optimus only gave a tired hum, staring at the berth above him. He contemplated on whether or not he should tell the flier about his nightmare, where he decided against it, and the two continued in their silence. It was comfortable — familiar, even — and he didn't want to interrupt it. However, Jetfire sighed, finally speaking.

"That was some nightmare you were having, Trion's student." He commented.

"You heard?" Optimus asked, turning his helm to look at him.

"Mhm. Sadly." Jetfire mumbled.

The other rolled his optics, sighing and shuddering them tiredly. He could hear the flier huff humorously, and he felt the back of his servo bump his arm.

"C'mon," the flier said, standing, "Prime's holding a meeting, and he asked that you came along."

Optimus onlined his optics, slowly sitting up. He stretched his arms above his helm, standing up as his battlemask slid back into place. He didn't feel comfortable enough to show his full face outside of the cabin. He looked up at Jetfire, who looked down at him in return. There was something in his optics, an expression that Optimus couldn't read, but he didn't get to look long as he looked away, just like the day before.