„Back again?“
Trailcutter smiles sheepishly at the barkeep, trudging into the dimly lit room slowly and on wobbly legs and heavy pedes. „Yeah, sorry to just barge in again. Believe me, wasn't my idea.“ the mech speaks, sinking on the chair right at the bar, the seat comfortable under his weary frame. With a sigh Trailcutter props his helm on one fist, the other servo flat on the bar, his digits finding grooves and familiar lines.
„Still quite empty here, old man.“ The Barkeep laughs, a melodic kind of laughter with a soft and velvety voice. A perfect Barkeep voice. It keeps you entertained, makes you want to listen to it more and more. „You are always coming at the wrong times, Trailbreaker.“
„Its Trailcutter now, I needed a name change, an attitude correction if you want. Found a good friend to help with that.“ „Trailcutter it is then. And friends are good. They keep you sane and on the track to a great life. A man, organic or not, is nothing without friends. A shell. A husk.“
„Yeah... You told me that last time as well.“ „I remember.“ „I followed your advice. It was great help. Thank you.“
„Nice to know that you can still be taught.“ The Barkeep chuckles, servos reaching for another glass to clean, squinting at the dark colored mech sitting on his chair.
„But really. I hadn't expected to see you so soon. You did not even touch your Highgrade the last time you came in. Not that I want to say anything about that. Not everyone can stay for long.“
„Well, you know how it is. Getting calls to get your aft back on the field, getting calls from superiors or friends. You have to hurry then or they will kick your aft.“
„Yeah. That might be it.“ The barkeeps audials twitch at the same time Trailcutters own do. There is a voice from behind the flimsy doors of the bar, but both of the mechs inside can't make out the words. There is a heavy silence for a few sparkbeats as they both wait for something to happen, but nothing happens.
„So, this time you plan to stay longer than just a few minutes?“
„Ah, maybe. Not sure right now. Is your Highgrade smelling better than the last time?“
The Truck laughs loudly when all the Barkeep does is shrug and turns his helm to the side, an impish smile dancing over plated lips.
„I think that is a no.“ Trailcutter smiles, his digits drumming on the bar table.
There are words again, drifting from behind the door. A worried cadence to it, but nothing more. Just a voice seemingly calling for someone.
Trailcutters smile seems a bit more strained now, his gaze landing back on the Barkeep. „You expecting some more visitors?“
„No, only you right now. Must be looking for someone though.“
„Can I talk about that Highgrade again?“ Trailcutter rubs a servo over his chassis, right above where his spark resides.
The Barkeep turns around, an empty glass in servo and filling it with the ease of aeon long practice. With no flourishes or a spilled drop, he sets the glass down in front of the Truck, amber liquid bubbling inside it.
„There you go.“
„Thanks old man.“
„So, Trailcutter. What else is new?“ „Mhmm..“ Trailcutter hums in thought, playing with the glass of Highgrade, letting the liquid swirl around right under the rim. „Well, I think I told you that the war is over now. All so happy about it. I didn't know what to do with myself. All I knew- but we talked about it already last time.“ Trailcutter chuckles, his first digit idly stroking the glass and chasing the droplets of condensation upon it. „Decided to follow a Captain on a wild hunt through the stars. Got to know a few very nice mechs. There is very nice bar there as well..“
„....cutter. Don't you dare! Im.... Whirl on you!“
„And Whirl. He is my bestnemesis.“
„What is a bestnemesis?“
„He is like.. the Brother from another Hotspot. My best friend and archnemesis. The one I can play and invent crazy and mad games with.“
„Ah“
„Yeah. Befriended some more awesome mechs. Ultra Magnus is a real good guy! By the books and very cautious, but he has the spark on the right spot. Always there if I need him. Then there is Redstrike, he comes from another dimension. Same with Batgotti and Spyder. They are all beastformers but such a caring bunch, its warming my spark.“ Trailcutter smiles, absorbed in his thoughts and still playing with his glass.
„Wild and Stretcher are some very sweet medics, Pharma is still a bit psychotic but getting better. Rodimus i still a Hothead but he cares about his crew.“ He has to take a few vents, his servo slowly lifting the glass.
„Sounds like quite a bunch.“
„There are so many more! So many I haven't gotten to know! There are organics on board! Sweet little things with the most intact innocence and badassery I have seen so far in that race!“ He sets the glass down again, pains and weariness forgotten as he waves his arms to better describe his words.
„.... shock again! I am not – him!“
„I have a youngling!“ Teebs crows, audials twitching at the voice coming from behind the door. „He is the most precious thing!“ His own voice is breaking slightly.
The Barkeep smiles serenely, servo slowly moving closer over the bartop. „Sounds to me as if you have a very good life so far.“
„....Yes...“
„Do you want to stay?“
„I... I don't think I will. Thanks, old man, for listening to me.“
„Trailcutter! Come on! Im sorry! Im sorry i bullied you into helping!“
„Sounds like they are looking for you.“
„Yeah... Seems like it, huh?“ Trailcutter pushes the glass back to the Barkeep, a broken smile on his faceplates. Weariness and pain are bending his spinal strut now, but he comes slowly to his pedes again.
„I think... I think I should go back now...“ He does not move.
The Barkeep smiles, takes the glass and dumps the Highgrade in a bowl.
„Go on then.“
The Outlier moves sluggishly to the door, his frame bending more with each step taken, stumbling and close to fall down more than once. He stops about two steps from the door, his audials twitching as he listens to the frantically pleading voice from right outside. „Im....“
„Yes?“
„I am scared...“
„Everyone is.“
„Can you help me?“
„.....“
„Thought so...“
His frame is bend and broken. Rips and tears running all along his frame, even as most parts of him flake away and his color dims.
He takes another step. Turns his helm to look behind from a cracked visor and helplessly hurt and optimistic blue optics.
„I can-“ „You are welcome back. You know, the most don't understand where they are, when they see me, or know what happens. But you... You seem to know.“
Trailcutter chuckles, his frame shaking.
„Can I ask you something?“
„Sure.“
„Why a bar?“
„Because it is safe. And has many happy memories. I can.. let go there.“
„But not this time.“
„... No. Not this time.“
He does not say more, just smiles, one servo with barely there digits pushing open the door, opening it to a bright white light and the voices.
He turns his helm, his voice rasping.
„First Aid...“
He steps outside.
„....You... called...?“
The door swings shut behind him, right as the cry of happiness sounds.
