When the new transfer bot arrived, Drift braced himself for the typical bravado of a fresh soldier eager to prove themselves. He and Cyclonus both shared the same skepticism—yet, as soon as they made eye contact, everything changed.

Drift froze. His optics locked onto theirs, and in that moment, he felt something unexpected. The mech’s gaze wasn’t hard, filled with the cold determination of a warrior or the pride of someone who thought they were above him. Instead, there was something softer, something human in their eyes. It was as though, in that brief moment, they weren’t just another soldier, but a companion—a fellow fighter, not an adversary.

The respect in their optics caught Drift off guard. Most mechs he met looked at him as an obstacle to overcome or a soldier to outlast. But not this one. This mech looked at him as an equal. For a moment, Drift felt a flicker of connection he hadn’t expected, not from a stranger, not from someone he’d just met.

As for Cyclonus, he was even less inclined to entertain the newcomer. He had no patience for pleasantries. But when the transfer bot left a letter for him, Cyclonus was taken aback. The note, simple yet genuine, read: “I understand you don’t rush into relationships, and I’m fine with waiting until you’re comfortable. No pressure.”

Cyclonus, who’d never known someone to respect his need for space, was surprised. Most would push for his attention, demand a response. This mech, however, seemed to understand him in a way few ever did.

For both Drift and Cyclonus, the transfer bot had already proven themselves. Not through combat or grand gestures, but by simply being understanding.