the-scrappy-stinger‌:

mightymegatron‌:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

The shriek has to be a good thing with that smile. Megatron repeats it again, more confidently. He commits it to memory. “Bumblebee!” He laughs again, waiting until he has the little one’s focus again before tapping his own chest.

“Megatron. That’s mine, Megatron.”

Megatron. Megatron. (The meat-eater’s name. He liked it. He didn’t just mimic this noise. He memorized it, and spoke it in his own voice.) Megatron! 

C’mere, little guy! (Bee threw his weight into the meat eater’s hands. Landing flat on his belly, he kissed the giant one’s cheeks before rolling backwards into the water. His plating was getting uncomfortably dry.) 

(He can feel the time. The other two will be coming back soon, and the little suns are starting to light all over the cave. It will be another long way of barking nonsense sounds at the other two.) 

(At least the meat-eate- at least Megatron was smart.) 

Incredible. He was having a conversation! Well, part of a conversation. Still, it was something that defied what it said right on the plaque outside: “While intelligent, these creatures are unable to do more than copy mechanical noises.”

Idiots, the lot of them. 

When the mer jumps up Megatron makes sure to catch him, stiff with surprise when he’s suddenly kissed. He grins as he lowers the little one back down, watching him slip back into the water. The lights coming on is an unwelcome sight. He has to leave for now. Standing back up, Megatron bows his helm, whether that’s understood or not.

“Bumblebee. You’ll be Free again, soon. I will make it so.”

the-scrappy-stinger‌:

mightymegatron‌:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

“Yes, free. Soon, you’ll be free soon.” He nods, hoping that his meaning comes across.

The mer starts chattering, presumably speaking in his own language. He repeats a series over and over again, tapping at his chest and trying to get him to hear something about himself.

“Is that your name?” He tries repeating the series, pointing to him. “Bumblebee?”

(He screams and slaps his tail into the water, utterly joyful! Listen to him! Learning to talk!!! He bats at the meat-eater’s hands and squeals.) “Yes! Yes! Bumblebee! That’s me!” 

The shriek has to be a good thing with that smile. Megatron repeats it again, more confidently. He commits it to memory. “Bumblebee!” He laughs again, waiting until he has the little one’s focus again before tapping his own chest.

“Megatron. That’s mine, Megatron.”

the-scrappy-stinger‌:

mightymegatron‌:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

Such trust. Despite his claws, Megatron is gentle as he peeks under the bandages. The wounds had been bad, but they were healing well. Maybe a week and they’d safely close the rest of the way on their own. After removing the sutures, he should be released… The vital word there being ‘should’. He replaced the bandages carefully and patted them, as he had through the glass before. 

“Soon. If they don’t let you out, I’ll set you free myself. Do you understand that? Free?” He gestures behind him, sweeping his arm. 

(He looks over the meat-eaters shoulders, around his back, through his legs. Out of the cave? Where the other two disappeared? Was that where home was?) 

Free? (He repeats, with the same intonation each time. Was that the word that got him out?) Free? Free? 

(He had to find this one again once he was in open water.) “My name is Bumblebee! Do you understand that? Bumblebee. Bumblebee!” (He taps at his chest.) “Bumblebee Bumblebee Bumblebee!” 

“Yes, free. Soon, you’ll be free soon.” He nods, hoping that his meaning comes across.

The mer starts chattering, presumably speaking in his own language. He repeats a series over and over again, tapping at his chest and trying to get him to hear something about himself.

“Is that your name?” He tries repeating the series, pointing to him. “Bumblebee?”

the-scrappy-stinger‌:

mightymegatron‌:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

Ah, that must be his name now. Megatron grins as he hands him the fish, not giving any commands before doing so. He needed this fish, he didn’t need to expend more energy before eating it-

The pills are deposited in his still-open hand. Megatron looks at them and then at the mer as he parrots his usual caretaker… and he starts laughing. He tries to keep it quiet but the realization is too damn clear. Of course he wouldn’t want these, not after what he’s been through! “Alright, alright…” Megatron puts the pills back in his subspace and offers another fish with nothing inside of it.

“You don’t want treatment. You want the treatment to be over, so you can get out. Can I see your ah… hurt?” He holds out his hand, making sure both are visible.

Hurt. 

(Bee put his arms into the meat-eater’s hands. He was small, smaller than almost everything in the ocean sometimes, and things here we also big. Under the bandages, if he looked, he would see the sutures that were due to be removed soon. He’d sliced them badly in the metal cave, trying to reach the little lever that shut tight behind him.) 

“Do you know where the cave lets out? Can you get me back home?” Poor baby~ hurt. “They called me Bumblebee when I was smaller. I lived where the ocean moved towards the sun at night, but I moved when the pod got big. I haven’t found anyone else.” 

(The meat-eater never responds in his speech, but no one ever does. Maybe he needed more of his words. What other ones did he know?) 

Hello~ Hello~ poor baby~ (That was the tone that the small one used, making noises at him.) 

Ready for the big tank? (That was the bigger one, who taught him to clap and roll over when he moved his hands.) 

Such trust. Despite his claws, Megatron is gentle as he peeks under the bandages. The wounds had been bad, but they were healing well. Maybe a week and they’d safely close the rest of the way on their own. After removing the sutures, he should be released… The vital word there being ‘should’. He replaced the bandages carefully and patted them, as he had through the glass before. 

“Soon. If they don’t let you out, I’ll set you free myself. Do you understand that? Free?” He gestures behind him, sweeping his arm. 

the-scrappy-stinger‌:

mightymegatron‌:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

It hurts to hear him call like that, but if he doesn’t leave, he can’t help. It takes a few moments for him to “persuade” the medical chief to allow him to treat the mer himself. He reminds the mech that he’s had all of the same training, that he was hired specifically for this position and that it is unlawful to purposefully not treat someone in one’s care, all while holding him up by the neck.

He returned a little while later with the medicine and a bucket of fresh-caught fish, this time at the surface level of the tank. He slips a dose of the painkiller into one of the morsels and holds it out over the water.

“…C’mere?”

(Bee’s ready at the tank surface when his meat-eater friend calls him. He beaches himself on the catch tarp and cranes himself up to reach for the fish.) 

C’mere, little guy. Whooo’s~ hungry? Whooo’s~ hungry? 

(He’s not making the signal that means “clap your hands” or “roll over”, so Bee just holds his hands out for the fish. He addresses the meat eater with the only knew word he’s got for him.) Curious one.

(Once the fish is in his hand, he checks if for the little white stones. He’s learned they make him tired, and being tired isn’t safe when he doesn’t know the area. It was fine at first, because they took pain away, but the bitter taste and the inescapable fog of sleep coated his tongue, make the fish bitter, and he hated all of it.) 

(Swallowing the fish whole, he hands the stone back.) No no, little guy! You need that! (This is what they always said whenever he tried to give them back. Maybe this one, the smart one, would get the hint.) 

Ah, that must be his name now. Megatron grins as he hands him the fish, not giving any commands before doing so. He needed this fish, he didn’t need to expend more energy before eating it-

The pills are deposited in his still-open hand. Megatron looks at them and then at the mer as he parrots his usual caretaker… and he starts laughing. He tries to keep it quiet but the realization is too damn clear. Of course he wouldn’t want these, not after what he’s been through! “Alright, alright…” Megatron puts the pills back in his subspace and offers another fish with nothing inside of it.

“You don’t want treatment. You want the treatment to be over, so you can get out. Can I see your ah… hurt?” He holds out his hand, making sure both are visible.

the-scrappy-stinger‌:

mightymegatron‌:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

Immediately he responds, and Megatron’s beliefs are confirmed. He can understand him perfectly! He rests his palm over where the little one’s are pressed, shaking his helm. His voice remains calm, even as he checks to make sure no other worker is near.

“I’ll get you something for that, don’t worry. Those bastards aren’t doing as much as they could be…” He patted the glass softly with a smile. “I’ll be right back.” Only when he turned away did he glare, seething in his plating, on his way to get oral painkillers and food.

(Where was he going?!) 

C’mere, little guy! C’mere! (He swims along the glass, palming at it with his hands and checking all around the perimeter for a way to get around it. The only one who understands him, and he’s leaving!) 

C’mere, little guy! C’mere!!! (He swam into the glass with a light tap of his head, but by then… out of sight…) 

C’mere, little guy. C’mere! 

(He called out in his own clicks and whistles.) “Don’t leave me here! I’m scared! How do I go back?!” 

(And so he waits…) 

It hurts to hear him call like that, but if he doesn’t leave, he can’t help. It takes a few moments for him to “persuade” the medical chief to allow him to treat the mer himself. He reminds the mech that he’s had all of the same training, that he was hired specifically for this position and that it is unlawful to purposefully not treat someone in one’s care, all while holding him up by the neck.

He returned a little while later with the medicine and a bucket of fresh-caught fish, this time at the surface level of the tank. He slips a dose of the painkiller into one of the morsels and holds it out over the water.

“…C’mere?”

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

The new arrival was entirely too young. At least, that was what Megatron had thought when he’d first been brought to the rehabilitation clinic. With a bit of study however, it was discovered that he was a part of a species that normally lived in groups, on the other side of the world from where he’d been found. Even so small, he was fully grown, and reportedly alone. How had he managed to get so lost?

It was long before they opened, but Megatron was already adjusting the informational plaques, looking up to meet the little one. He was being stared at, it would seem. Not uncommon; new arrivals tended to be frightened of him because of his appearance alone. Too shark-like, he imagined. This one however was right up against the glass. With a smirk, he let his claws rest against the tank.

“Curious one, aren’t you? I wonder when your feedings are scheduled…”

(Bee can hear him through the glass. The tanks are wired with microphones and speakers, not that he knows that, and he’s heard both the ones that come to look at him and the ones that prick his plating and make him sleepy. This one, this friendly one with a face like the meat-eaters back home, is talking to him, and he does his best to talk back.) 

(He doesn’t know all the words, but he copies them the best he can.) 

Curious one! Poor baby~, feeding. C’mere, little guy! C’mere!

This startles the Megatron. He had suspicions that these creatures could talk but had never head it himself! Mostly they just hiss whenever he walks past, and they aren’t known to speak to complete strangers. But did he understand?

“Very good… Does this hurt you?” Megatron gestures to his arm, dragging his claws across it lightly to mimic the mermech’s injuries.

(The meat-eater understands him?! Whenever he uses the noises on the sleep-makers, they just laugh and make the same ones back at him. They’re dumb mimics, in his mind. But this one responds differently, like REAL language. His expression, formerly blank, suddenly changes. His features wrench into a pained grimace. He can let this one know how he feels without worry, dropping his instinct to keep his guard up around predators. ) 

(Bee’s heard the word “hurt” and had his arms handled enough to know they have something to do with each other. He presses his bandaged arms up against the glass.) 

Poor baby~ hurt. Poor baby~ hurt. 

(But he doesn’t know enough to say that he wants to go back home, or that he’s truly lost in this tiny cave.) 

Immediately he responds, and Megatron’s beliefs are confirmed. He can understand him perfectly! He rests his palm over where the little one’s are pressed, shaking his helm. His voice remains calm, even as he checks to make sure no other worker is near.

“I’ll get you something for that, don’t worry. Those bastards aren’t doing as much as they could be…” He patted the glass softly with a smile. “I’ll be right back.” Only when he turned away did he glare, seething in his plating, on his way to get oral painkillers and food.

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

The new arrival was entirely too young. At least, that was what Megatron had thought when he’d first been brought to the rehabilitation clinic. With a bit of study however, it was discovered that he was a part of a species that normally lived in groups, on the other side of the world from where he’d been found. Even so small, he was fully grown, and reportedly alone. How had he managed to get so lost?

It was long before they opened, but Megatron was already adjusting the informational plaques, looking up to meet the little one. He was being stared at, it would seem. Not uncommon; new arrivals tended to be frightened of him because of his appearance alone. Too shark-like, he imagined. This one however was right up against the glass. With a smirk, he let his claws rest against the tank.

“Curious one, aren’t you? I wonder when your feedings are scheduled…”

(Bee can hear him through the glass. The tanks are wired with microphones and speakers, not that he knows that, and he’s heard both the ones that come to look at him and the ones that prick his plating and make him sleepy. This one, this friendly one with a face like the meat-eaters back home, is talking to him, and he does his best to talk back.) 

(He doesn’t know all the words, but he copies them the best he can.) 

Curious one! Poor baby~, feeding. C’mere, little guy! C’mere!

This startles the Megatron. He had suspicions that these creatures could talk but had never head it himself! Mostly they just hiss whenever he walks past, and they aren’t known to speak to complete strangers. But did he understand?

“Very good… Does this hurt you?” Megatron gestures to his arm, dragging his claws across it lightly to mimic the mermech’s injuries.

the-scrappy-stinger:

(He’d finally been caught.) 

(That inviting little cave had been a trap. Bee had his meal of fish bits and mollusk guts, but the metal grate latched tight behind him, and it was a long overnight stay before he was pulled in by very disappointed, very confused fishermen. They’d been trying for the massive eels in the area… not for… whatever he was.) 

(Confused by his shape and concerned by the gashes he’d put in his arms trying to get out, they kept him in the live well and brought him back to shore. They turned him in to the local sea park, and now he was kept in a windowed tank, on display to the mechs outside while he healed.) 

(This toothy one felt familiar, and Bee watched him intently through the glass.) 

The new arrival was entirely too young. At least, that was what Megatron had thought when he’d first been brought to the rehabilitation clinic. With a bit of study however, it was discovered that he was a part of a species that normally lived in groups, on the other side of the world from where he’d been found. Even so small, he was fully grown, and reportedly alone. How had he managed to get so lost?

It was long before they opened, but Megatron was already adjusting the informational plaques, looking up to meet the little one. He was being stared at, it would seem. Not uncommon; new arrivals tended to be frightened of him because of his appearance alone. Too shark-like, he imagined. This one however was right up against the glass. With a smirk, he let his claws rest against the tank.

“Curious one, aren’t you? I wonder when your feedings are scheduled…”