TRANSFORMERS: Bumblebee's Boy

A SUCCESSFUL MISSION

CHAPTER 38
A Successful Mission

Trevor collapsed against the bench in Ironhide's weapons training room quietly. It had been another long session, one which had rendered him worn down. Ironhide looked at his great nephew quietly, and straightened a bit. They'd been going hand-to-hand that round, and though Trevor had much to work on, he felt as though he was, at the very least, getting better. "Ye did good great, kid," Ironhide nodded his head. "You're getting better at your fighting skills, but you need to work a little on your speed."

"Just be honest, uncle 'Hide," The mech would have grinned at the use of the title if he wasn't frustrated with Trevor's downplay. "I suck, plain and simple. I'm never going to be a warrior like you, dad, or grandma and grandpa."

Ironhide vented out some air, frustration in his optics. He turned to his young protege with a long, annoyed snort. "I didn't name you my downright protege to hear you whine and complain when you have trouble," Ironhide told him, pointing straight at him. "I mean I could have told Prime after our first session that this wasn't working out, and make it Jazz's problem," He told him, even though he knew he was not the type of mech to do it unless someone was really inept. "I agreed you should be trained like any other Prime family member even though you're human because I saw something in you. Especially in that trigger finger of yours."

Trevor looked up at Ironhide a bit. "Dad was a protege of yours too, right?" Ironhide nodded. "And you can't possibly be saying he was this bad! I mean seriously, I can't even throw that good of a punch," He added.

Ironhide put his hands on his hips, and stepped over. "Your father started training a Cybertronian month after his official adoption, just like you," Ironhide explained. "He was scrawny, and only knew basic fighting from living on the street," Trevor blinked. "And I remember having this same exact talk with him too. "He was angry, tried, and not at his best either. And you know what I told him?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Mech up, you can't get any better whining. You can only get better by working your aft off."

"He had a hard time?" Trevor asked. "But dad's a badaft! He's-."

"You don't get born a badaft," Ironhide snorted. "That came after vorns and vorns of training!" He looked at Trevor straight in the eye. "And I say this to you now, mech up! You're a tough little fragger, Trevor. I say this in an honest way too, youngling. You've struggled all your life, and I know that," Trevor gripped the bench. "But did you give up? NO. So why should you start now?"

Trevor looked up at Ironhide, a look of surprise in his eyes. He'd never heard Ironhide be so firm about this, but in a way, he liked it. He knew, to his surprise, that Ironhide was saying this out of love. The mech didn't want to see him so down on himself. "Alright," Trevor pulled himself to his feet. "I know, I know... I just, I guess I need to stop getting so angry at myself." He explained with a long sigh.

"Definitely not," Ironhide noted. "Because you're improving greatly. And I do mean that, Trevor," He told him with a nod. "You're getting more nimble, faster, and tougher. It's like night and day from you when you first started, to you now," He explained, a grin forming on his face. "You may not see how good you are, but slag if I have not been more than impressed." He grunted. "So tell me, who will you trust, your uncle 'Hide? Or, your anxiety?"

Trevor nodded his head slowly, and patted the large mech's armored leg. "Of course I'm going to trust you, you big lug," Trevor managed, a broad smile finally coming over him. "Thanks for pulling me out of that uncle 'Hide. I think I needed to hear that," He then added. "Love you."

Ironhide was stunned by that last statement, his voice caught in his throat. But after a long moment, he smirked, and let a grin transpire over him again. "Love ye too, bitlet," He managed. "Now come on, we're running that drill again," He then added. "Give me your best stance number four, and prepare to spar."