Angsty Solarflare
Featuring Ironhide

“What do you mean – they wouldn’t let him sign?”

On-screen, Ironhide offered a shrug, the motion stiff, as if he were still working out the kinks in a brand-new body. Well, that was the case – not long ago, he and Ratchet, Wheeljack, Windcharger, Brawn and Prowl had been snatched from the belly of Primus and resurrected by the Quintessons. “Don’t go wild on me, Flare, Ah’m just th’ messenger.”

Slowly, she shook her head in disbelief. “But – but he did it! He saved their sorry hides, Ironhide!”

“Ah know, sweetheart. We all know. But Ah guess that’s how them politicking fellas do it.”

Lowering her head, Flare gnawed at her lower lip, rage at the newly reestablished Elders bubbling behind her optics. How could they? After all that Prime sacrificed, after all his warriors had sacrificed? How could they push him aside? It wasn’t fair! Not fair at all!

On-screen, Ironhide reached out and tapped the lens. “Ah’ll be goin’, Flare. We’ll be back t’Earth soon enough.” The old rusty warrior gave a half-hearted smile. “We’ll have a party then, eh?”

Shoulders hunched, all she could do was nod. Ironhide cut the connection himself, leaving a swatch of static across the view screen of Autobot City’s comm room. Had it been just months before that she and the others stood victorious on Cybertron, celebrating with Optimus? Had he not emerged triumphant from the council ruins with the news that the Great War was finally over?

With a low rumble of her vocalizer, Flare yanked her connecting plug from the console and stalked away, down to the rec room with the news. Party? No, there’d be no party – unless the Twins wanted to organize a head-hunting expedition. She’d be right there with them, because this was a very, very sorry “thank you” for saving your pansy skidplate …