TransWarped

Chapter 7: Wake Up Call

Jack had crept out of Bulkhead's interior a few minutes after dawn, stirring the Autobot awake as the teen shut the door and tiptoed to the bathroom. Bulkhead had planned on resting for about 4 hours and then checking in with Ratchet, but he and Jack had somehow managed to sleep for 8 hours. The Wrecker transformed and stretched with a loud groan. The events of yesterday had taken a larger toll on him than he expected. He was still tired but he didn't want to recharge anymore. It was time to get moving and get his bearings straight. They might have been in an Autobot base, but he was still in a completely alien world.

Take this room, for example.

Bulkhead glanced around the room — Bulkhead's room, but not his room. He felt-- well he didn't know how he felt. The room was clearly a hodgepodge of his double's hobbies and interests, filled with canvases, paint, flattened oil cans, and blueprints. That being said none of it was familiar to him. The space belonged to some alternate version of himself so there should have been something in this room that sparked his interest.

Yet he found nothing.

The only thing that was familiar to him was the giant Autobot insignia painted above the berth. Other than the name and faction, it was the only thing he had in common with his mysterious double. He didn't even know what the other Bulkhead looked like! He might've found something if he took a closer look at the room or browsed through the datapad laying on the berth, but something stopped him. Maybe it was fear of what he might find, respect for the other Bulkhead's privacy, or the chilling sense of imposter syndrome losing in that prevented him from investigating further. Either way, Bulk wasn't keen on taking more than a cursory glance around the room.

Instead, he headed to the main room.

The hallway reminded him of their base in the missile silo, from the dim lighting to the garage doors lining the walls. It was a surprising similarity considering the rest of the base looked nothing like their own. For one thing, their base was less of a military base and more akin to a makeshift home a Cybertronian would make on Earth. The giant television, concrete couch, oil drums, and road signs in the main room were proof enough. The place felt lived-in-- like these Autobots made Earth their home rather than their temporary stay while they battled the Cons. Or maybe it was because these Bots were younger and wanted to liven up the place?

Bulkhead mentally shrugged and continued inside the main room.

Everything but the monitors of the Communication Hub was turned off. Early morning construction and the woosh of cars passing by kept the room from being completely silent. For a few seconds, he was convinced the room was empty. If it wasn't for the sunlight shining through the skylights, Bulkhead definitely would have missed Prowl. The ninjabot was perfectly balanced atop one of the robotic arms in the assembly line, so motionless that Bulkhead dismissed him as an extension of the mechanical arm at first glance.

Bulkhead watched the mech for a minute. While the ninjabot looked nothing like the black and white Praxian Bulkhead was familiar with, there were similarities. The Prowl of his universe was also trained in Cyberninja arts though he was more of a strategist and law enforcer than a ninja. From what Bulk could see, their personalities were almost exactly the same. He was stiff, critical, and pragmatic.

'I hope this Prowl's less of a sarcastic prick.' He wouldn't bet credits on it, but he did hope that was the case. The way he bickered with Bumblebee didn't give him too much hope.

Speaking of Bumblebee, was he still asleep?

Rather than go back and knock on the bot's door, Bulkhead decided to look to the person already in the room. "Hey Prowl...! Yo! Prowl!" Bulkhead harshly whispered as he slowly made his way toward the ninjabot.