#prime pickings for the recruiting comittee

[notxahero]

@deceptixms

If Optimus was being honest with himself, he would admit he was lost. Oh, he certainly knew where he was physically, but beyond that… Well. It had been several decacycles since his dismissal from the Autobot Academy and the quiet revocation of his citizenship to the Commonwealth, and he still did not know what to do with himself. He had left the only home he had ever known in a dingy little one-bot ship, and all he’d felt since was an all-encompassing numbness.

It was on this little backwater planet just on the edge of Decepticon Territory that Optimus was bartering. He’d managed to get his meagre savings before they closed out his account, at least, but it had only gotten him so far. He was using the last of his credits to get some (low-grade, because it was all he could afford) energon. “With what I have, I should get at least three cubes, not one!” Frustration tinged his voice as he desperately tried to talk the merchant out of ripping him off. It wasn’t as if he could take his business elsewhere; this was the only merchant here that even had energon.

“One cube,” the merchant said, beedy optics narrowing and a nasty little smile crossing his face. “-Half a cube, for an Autobot like yourself.”

“I’m not an Autobot,” Optimus ground out, grinding his dentae at the admission, “Come on, it’s not like any other bots would buy this stuff you’re trying to pass as energon.” No bot in their right processor would drink it, either, but his energy levels were creeping into the ‘running on fumes’ level so it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice.

The merchant looked as if he was about to taunt him a bit more - perhaps threaten to drop the ration down to a quarter of a cube - but just as he was about to speak, the seedy bot’s gaze slid over Optimus’ shoulder before stiffening in alarm.