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Rescue Team Sigma-17 had been in stasis long before whispers of war had even emerged.
So it made sense that they had no idea the Autobots were the last stand for freedom and not the government anymore, or even what a Decepticon was.
They were only mechlings, essentially teenagers in the lifespan of Cybertronians. They were innocent, just bots that wanted to do good and help others. They were naive, untainted by war and its many horrors.
When Optimus had first picked up on their signal, had first sent the message that would awaken them from stasis, he had thought it was a hopeless venture. He had been certain the Sigma was a ship infiltrated and taken over by Decepticons, if not a complete wreckage.
Imagine his surprise when he’d found not death and destruction, but four young survivors with a job that was classed extinct until their discovery.
And he’d made it his duty to protect them.
He made it his mission to keep these mechlings sheltered from the war, keep them safe, keep them secret.
He’d made sure they landed in Griffin Rock, where an associate of Agent Fowler’s early days had sworn to keep the Cybertronians existence secret. If it hadn’t been for Chief Burns, Optimus would have had to drag four young, innocent and inexperienced mechlings onto a battlefield.
Having met them now, he knows they likely wouldn’t have made it.
Heatwave was too hotheaded. All the brashness of Bulkhead with none of the weaponry, and the stubbornness of Ratchet with no bargaining chip to keep him alive in enemy hands. He would have fought valiantly, but gone down too quick to save.
Boulder was too kind and sweet, the kind of bot that wouldn’t hurt anyone. The kind that ended up traumatised from war, brought off the battlefield in shellshock or as an empty husk. Even if he kept his life, he would have lost himself completely.
Chase was too unyielding in his beliefs, too set on doing things the way they were written in manuals and textbooks. He was like Ultra Magnus in a way, but he was no wrecker. Agile and clever, but certainly not a fighter.
Blades… Probably would have run away at the first hint of a battle. He was too anxious, too sensitive, and too nervous. He wouldn’t have lasted long in the medbay either, broken by witnessing the injuries and casualties. Optimus was scared to think what the youngest of the bots would have done in a war situation.
So he’d done everything he could to protect them. He’d taken every precaution to keep them safe. He’d restricted their existence to himself, Ratchet, and Bumblebee.
So what in the flying frag were they doing in a warzone???
“When did we call in reinforcements?!” Bulkhead’s shout cuts across the shocked silence that had fallen on the battlefield, Vehicons stunned into inactivity by the sudden appearance of four previously unknown Autobots.
Four Autobots who weren’t registered on any system.
Except, they technically weren’t Autobots. They were Rescue Bots.
They were rescuers, not fighters!
And yet, they stood in front of him like a barrier, sizing up the vehicons.
Buzzing and whirring with panic, Bumblebee skidded in, helping Optimus to his pedes from where a nasty blow had knocked him down.
“Are you okay?! Why are they here? Did you call them?! Why would you bring them to the battlefield-?!”
“I did no such thing, Bumblebee. I’m unsure myself why they are here.”
“Because we heard you needed help.” Heatwave glances over his shoulder at Optimus with a more serious expression than Optimus think he’s ever seen. He looks like… Like he’s meant to be here.
Except he’s not. He has no training, no weapons, no idea of what war truly is-
“We’re Rescue Bots, Optimus. It’s our duty to help those in need. And, well, Ratchet said there was no other choice.” Blades smiles uneasily - nervous, anxious, but still genuine and soft - as he offers Optimus a servo, helping Bumblebee pull the stunned Prime to his pedes.
And angry.
Optimus was angry.
“Ratchet! Groundbridge these mechlings back, right! Now!” Ratchet answer his comm with a humm of thought. He’s not paying attention. He’s elbow deep in Arcee’s internal systems, trying to patch together vital fuel lines to keep her functioning.
“Wait, so, are these guys on our side?” Bulkhead gestures to the four bots - mechlings - not knowing who they were or where they’d come from, just that they were forming a wall to protect his leader from getting shot halfway to pit.
Venting, Optimus steadies himself and looks down at Sigma-17 with the aura of a frustrated father. Blades shies back from him a little, but Bumblebee gently beeps that it’s okay, Optimus is just worried about their safety.
And he is.
For good reason.
“Get behind shelter. Now. That is an order.” And Heatwave, in all his stubbornness and cheek, defiantly announces;
“We don’t take orders from you. We’re Rescue Bots, not Autobots.”
“With all due respect, Optimus Prime, it is our duty to protect those in need, and help those who require help. No matter their history, beliefs, or in such times, faction.” Chase speaks calmly, firmly. He won’t back down on this, standing besides Heatwave with no intention of backing down.
“Yeah, and we don’t want you to get hurt.” Boulder glances around, tense and ready to dodge at any sign of aggression. He’s used to dodging things, even if those things are usually rocks and lobsters. Not laserfire.
“We’re not leaving until we’ve rescued you. Whatever that takes…” Optimus looks directly into Blades’ optics.
He’s scared. He’s on the verge of curling up and sobbing, or taking off as fast as possible. But there’s a conviction that burns there. A dedication. Even though his plating shakes and rotors tremble, he stands with pedes rooted in the mud.
And maybe… Maybe Optimus had underestimated them slightly. He puts a hand on Blades’ shoulder and squeezes reassuringly.
“You’ve done well. All four of you. But Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and I can take care of this situation now. Your duty is done.” Battlemask snapping into place and sword coming to his arm, Optimus steps forwards, so that he’s just in front of Heatwave and Chase.
The Vehicons tense at his appearance, but they still seem torn over the new arrivals. Do they not recognise the symbol…? Are the Rescue Bots invisible to their allies/enemy scan?
“Leave this area immediately, Decepticons! I will spare your lives on that condition.” Red visors glance at each other, unsure, before one of them transforms and abruptly retreats.
Others are quick to follow.
Eventually, the battlefield is clear of vehicons, the Decepticons returning to their master battered and wounded, but not victorious.
They almost had been.
If the rescue bots hadn’t appeared at that very second, Optimus may well have been gunned down. Bumblebee and Bulkhead had been too far to get to him, and swarmed by their own opponents.
Prime has no misconceptions that their sparks would have followed his into the well. He retracts his battlemask.
From behind, he hears Heatwave let out a cocky huff, and Boulder slowly sigh in relief. Bumblebee softly chirps an ‘are you okay?’, Blades having sagged against him completely once the threat retreated.
“I thought we were going to die!!! Primus, if you ever make me do that again, Heatwave-!”
“I didn’t make you! You just copied me since we didn’t have time for orders!” Chase and Boulder look at each other and smile, softly laughing as Blades puts his servos on his hips and puffs out one cheekplates.
“Well, I’m never doing that again! So there!” Bumblebee squeals a laugh, giving Blades a friendly hug. Bulkhead approaches slowly, shuttering his optics.
“So, uh… Who are these guys?” Still upset with them, but infinitely proud, Optimus puts a hand on Heatwave and Chase’s back, gently pushing them back towards where Prime’s team had bridged in.
“Let’s discuss this back at base. I’m sure you four want to get back to your true duty, yes?” Heatwave grins.
“Absolutely. That was nerve wracking.” Boulder walks just in front of them,
Optimus keeping his eyes on all four mechlings to make sure they’re safe and unharmed and-
Oh.
He’s running Creator protocols.
…
Well! That had been inevitable from the very beginning!
(It was surprising that they hadn’t been running already, with Bumblebee on his team.)
A small smile tugs at Optimus’s faceplates. Bumblebee circles around Blades excitedly, chirping and whirring about Raf, whilst Bulkhead casually talks to Boulder about his alt mode. Chase and Heatwave debate over what they would have done if the Decepticons had fired on them, but their conversation is light.
Naive. Innocent. As if they were talking about characters in a story rather than themselves in a dangerous situation. Optimus leans down a little to interrupt.
“Thank you. But please, never do that again. You have no means of protecting yourself.” Heatwave tilts his helm and raises an optical ridge, slightly offended. But it’s Chase who shutters his optics and asks in confusion;
“What do you mean? Of course we can.”
“You have no weapons-”
“We do.” Heatwave interrupts, grinning at the taken aback expression on Optimus’ faceplates.
“We have rescue tools that can be used as impromptu weapons. Not only that, but Rescue Bots are given Circuit-Su training so we can defend ourselves against criminals and aggravated family of victims on Cybertron.”
“Circuit-Su?”
“One of the Cybertronian martial arts. Others were elective, but that was mandatory.” Chase’s explanation is appreciated, but Heatwave looks like he has more to say.
“You don’t think the council would have sent us out into the realm of Sparkeaters, Energon eaters, Cloud Leviathans, Ick-Yak’s, Dire Wraith, and Arachnosaurs without some kind of protection, did you?” Optimus shutters his optics.
“I… Had not considered that.” With a nod, Heatwave pulls back a panel in his arm, revealing a small glass container that looked like it could connect to a tube on a switch.
“Concentrated acid. I can connect this up to the same system I use water through - either with the water or standalone, if the situation calls for it. Chase can amplify his sirens to the point that they can be felt physically, like running into a rock wall. Boulder can withstand massive explosions and electrical attacks, but he can also reflect it back to origin. Blades has, well, blades. His rotors can unsheathe into swords.”
“But, you do not have battle protocols.” Laughing warmly, Boulder takes a break in talking to Bulkhead, speaking over his shoulder in that gentle, soft voice of his.
“We have protection protocols. It enables us to fight, but only in defence of others. That’s why Rescue Bots are put in teams. We save each other as much as we save others.” Optimus takes a vent inwards.
He’s both awed and bewildered by this little team of four mechlings, Cybertronians who had never experienced war, who were kind, and caring, and heroic in their own right.
A swirling green groundbridge opens before them, Bulkhead and Bumblebee heading through first. Once in the bridge, Optimus clears his vents and waits for all four Rescue Bots to look at him.
“Thank you. For what you did today. It couldn’t have been easy, and I doubt you were prepared. Your willingness to stand in front of Decepticons unyieldingly may have changed the entire course of that battle - and perhaps, the war.”
Heatwave shrugs, grinning.
“Just doing our duty.”