Metal and Stingers

Under the radar

Hey everyone! I've got an important announcement I think you all will like.
Metal and Stingers has been going on for a long while, longer than I planned. I meant to finish the book this January, but as you can tell that didn't happen. Mostly life stuff, you know the deal.
However, I've had a few projects that I really want to work on and publish. New, fresh ideas I've been thinking about. Problem is, I don't want to before MaS is over. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. I felt like it would be unfair to all those who have stuck through the many long hiatus'. So here's the plan:
From this Tuesday onward, MaS will have weekly updates until it's completion. I will attempt to reply to every comment that comes in and stay active on my page. This means I'll release sneak peeks of the next few chapters and answer any questions you may have. The end is in sight, friends! Hope you enjoy.
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"How's the study group going?"

"Hm?" you mumbled, looking up from your homework. As soon as your eyes met the inquirer you froze, senses going haywire and muscles seizing up.

Your mother stood on the other side of the kitchen table in a pose you knew all too well; arms crossed, head tilted to the right, mouth twisted in a slight grimace - you were on the precipice of trouble. This was Deathcon 1, the kind of thing you saw in your youth when you cheated on a quiz, or committed the crime of staying up too late on your DS.

"The study group. The one you said you have been going to every other evening? To help out struggling peers?" her tone was forced casual, with a note of ice at the edge. Ah yes, the study group: the shared lie of your friends used as a cover for the fact you were gallivanting around with a group of aliens who were fighting a millennia-old war hidden by the government. Not really something to tell your parents, or any parent for that matter.

You made yourself relax and set your pencil down, folding your arms across your textbook.

"Oh yeah, it's going pretty well. Why?"

"No reason..." she said in such a way that meant there totally was a reason.

"I've just been noticing how late you come home, and how dirty your clothes are sometimes." Shoot, you thought you had been diligent enough with your laundry to make sure they didn't see that, apparently not-

"-And I haven't seen your favourite jacket in the wash for a long time."

You unconsciously gritted your teeth when the jacket was mentioned. Your favourite jacket that you wore all the time... The one that had been destroyed by energon. That one time. It had been left behind in the cavern during the panic; most likely now a puddle of organic material, if not already used as bedding for some wild animal. Scrap scrap scrap, if she was mentioning it now that means she had been vigilant for a while now.

You leaned back in your chair and grimaced, raising your palms skyward.

"Yeeeaaah, I kinda got tired of it. I'm wearing that jean jacket though, the one you got me?"

You were beginning to sweat. What was she thinking? Drugs? Gangs? Drag racing? If you knew her reason for worry you could shut it down and move on, but you were having a hard time pinning down what the roots of the interrogation were.

Stay calm. She'll burn herself out eventually.

Your mom hummed, thinking, and then pressed on, changing her angle.

"That one car that drops you off all the time, you said it was one of your friends, friends... Raf's, right?"

You nodded enthusiastically, beginning to catch on to her game.