Transformers The Hatchling

15 years later

15 Years Later

Optimus POV

Time had passed more swiftly than I had anticipated. The absence of Megatron had shifted the balance of things for the Autobots. Without the constant threat of the Decepticons, we had been able to focus on rebuilding and establishing a more stable presence. Our new base, located in the peaceful town of Jasper, was large enough to accommodate everyone comfortably. Even Storm, who had grown at an exponential rate over the years, found space to move about. In fact, she was now as tall as I was—impressive for a young predacon who had only hatched 15 years ago.

Storm had matured quickly. Her once-silver form was now transitioning into a more striking appearance: her metallic scales were slowly shifting to a beautiful, pale metallic blue, a color that gleamed softly under the base's artificial lighting. She had grown into a fierce and beautiful femme predacon, though still holding onto some of her youthful curiosity and impulsiveness. While she had become relatively well-behaved after her second teething stage, the confinement of the base had started to get to her. She frequently tried to sneak out, her desire for adventure and freedom growing stronger by the day. Fortunately for us, the sensors at both exits of the base had been installed after her first escape attempt, which effectively thwarted her efforts every time.

Storm POV

So bored. I was sick of everything. The cartoons on the screens were too simple now. I had watched all the episodes, and they just didn't hold my attention anymore. The remote was too small to hold comfortably without crushing it, and the screens didn't do much to hold my interest either. I growled in frustration, staring at Ratchet as he worked. His gruff voice echoed in the room. "If you're that bored, go wait for Cliffjumper. He'll keep you entertained when he gets back." I huffed, staring at him with narrowed optics, not in the mood for any more of his "wise" advice. I stuck my tongue out at him behind his back, hoping he didn't see.

"I saw that," Ratchet said, his tone sharp but without much venom. I let out a soft growl, huffing in response before I dragged myself to my berth room. The walls were made of stone, so bland and plain. There was nothing interesting to look at in here. Ratchet had said it was a "base of operations, not a playground." But that didn't stop me from wishing it were more exciting. I sighed, pacing around the room, feeling more and more restless by the second. I wanted to explore topside, see the world beyond the walls of this place, but they never let me go with them. They said it was too dangerous, too risky.

Frustrated, I snorted at the large TV screen before I flopped onto my berth, curling up for a midday nap. Maybe I could sleep through my boredom. When I finally woke, the familiar hum of the ground bridge activating filled the air. My energon-sensing sensors perked up, and I trotted to the bridge room, curious to see who was coming back. The vortex of swirling blue light was there, and one by one, the team stepped through. But as I watched them emerge, my gaze quickly flickered to the empty space beside them.

Cliffjumper. He wasn't there.

I felt my spark tremble at the sudden emptiness. I looked around the base, trying to find him. Was he still out patrolling? Had he gone on a mission? My internal sensors scanned the base, searching for him. Then I noticed Arcee. She was standing by herself, her optics dull, and there was a tightness in her posture that I had never seen before. She was holding something carefully, cradling it in her servo as she sniffed at it. I tried to approach her, worried she was hurt or something had gone wrong, but when I stepped closer, she pushed me away, sharply. The action stung more than I expected, and I took a step back, feeling the hurt prickling through me. I had never seen Arcee act that way before. She was never this cold, this distant. Confused, I hesitated and stepped back, sensing something was wrong. I couldn't understand what was going on.

She opened her servo slowly, revealing a small, metal cone. I recognized it immediately. It was a piece of Cliffjumper's helm. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. My optics widened in shock. I whimpered, taking another step back, my processor struggling to comprehend what was happening. I caught a whiff of fresh energon the rusty, metallic scent that was unmistakably Cliffjumper's. But it wasn't just a scent; it lingered around the cone, a sign of something much more disturbing. Where was Cliffjumper? Why wasn't Ratchet working on him in the medbay? Why wasn't he here? The realization settled in my chest like a cold weight, and I felt a chill rush through me. Cliffjumper was gone. And I didn't understand why.

Optimus POV

Cliffjumper's death was an overwhelming blow. It affected us all in ways I couldn't fully articulate. He had been a trusted member of our team, and his loss left a void that none of us could fill. As the team slowly dispersed to grieve in their own ways, I noticed Storm sitting by herself, her optics fixed on the offline ground bridge. The swirling blue vortex that had once been a sign of so many reunions now felt empty, hollow. She was young, too young to fully grasp the weight of what had happened. I approached her quietly, my footfalls silent on the metal floor. I lowered my servo to her shoulder, trying to offer comfort. "He isn't coming back. He's with the Allspark now," I said softly, hoping to provide some sense of solace.

But Storm didn't respond as I expected. Instead, she glared at me, her optics flashing with something I couldn't quite identify. Her gaze never left the ground bridge, as if she were waiting for it to turn on again and bring Cliffjumper back to us. I sighed, knowing there wasn't much I could say or do to change her grief. She didn't understand, not fully. The loss of someone close to her—her first true comrade, her protector—was something she wasn't ready to process. It would take time, perhaps much longer than I had hoped.

Before leaving to recharge, I glanced back one last time. Storm was still lying down, her small form curled into a ball as she stared at the empty space where the ground bridge had been. Soft rivulets of energon leaked from her optics, staining the floor beneath her. Her whimpering echoed through the otherwise quiet base, and I could feel the weight of the loss pressing down on all of us. It was hard to watch her suffer in silence, but I knew we would all heal in time. For now, all I could do was let her grieve in her own way, and hope that someday, she would understand that Cliffjumper's spark had moved on, just as all of ours would one day. But for tonight, she needed the space to process. And I would stand by her as long as it took.