Note: The perspective change from Shade to Blitz is deliberate. I wanted to emphasize the difference between them. I switched back to first person in the epilogue because I wanted to show how Blitz had finally come to grips with her identity.

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 I walk in the door of A Cut Above, where my journey began many years ago. The same short walkway leading to the bar in the back, booths along either wall. The only change in the bar is in the number of people, and not just boots and cons; organics, cyber-organics, mecha, all manner of people from across the galaxy have come home to Cybertron.

Swerve surveys the place with curiosity. It's not as spacious as his old bar on the Lost Light, but it has a certain rugged charm to it.

"Charming place! So uh, why are we here?"

I rise up to my full height, trying to see above the close-packed frames. "I want you to meet someone; a fellow bartender. If it weren't for him, I might not have joined-."

"Hey, lightweight! Get over here!" A loud call from the back interrupts me. Several pairs of eyes turn towards the voice, and then to me. Muffled chuckles rise from a few of the patrons. Apparently my reputation precedes me.

Swerve looks up at me curiously. "Lightweight?"

I grimace. "You'll find out soon enough..." I start threading between the people to the counter, Swerve close behind. It's slow going but we finally reach it. Swerve stops between two stools, transfixed by the sight of the well-stocked bar. Razorblade sets down the glass he was cleaning and sets his servos on the bar.

"You haven't changed a bit, Razorblade," I greet.

"You have," the silver mech shoots back. "'Bet you've got some stories to tell." He nods at my companion. "Something wrong with your friend there?"

I turn to look at the minibot standing transfixed in front of the bar. "I think he's a little awestruck by-"

"Is that Nightmare Fuel?"

Razorblade glances at the item nonchalantly. "Among other things."

Swerve seems to notice the bartender for the first time, rushing forward to grab his servo and shake it. "Hey there, pleasure to meet you. I'm Swerve, owner of Swerve's."

The bartender looks taken aback for a second. "Razorblade, owner of A Cut Above."

Swerve continues shaking his servo enthusiastically. "Nice place you've got here. Maybe you could share some tips with me."

"We'll see."

The minibot finally lets go and turns to me. "So, how'd he end up helping you out? And why'd he call you lightweight?"

Razorblade's visor narrows in amusement. He gestures to a nearby vacant booth. "Sit down and I'll tell you." He turns to yell at a bright yellow bot on the other side. "Alright, break time's over! Get back here and serve for once in your life." He poured three glasses of engex and joined Serve and me, handing one to the minibot and holding another out to me, visor bright.

"Think you can handle it this time?"

I level a hard stare at him and accepted the glass. "I'll need it to get through the next five kliks."

Swerve downs some of his own and set it aside. "Alright, so what happened the last time Blitzy was here?"

Razorblade lifts an optical ridge, casting a sidelong glance at me. "So you do have a name. Could've fooled me." I roll my optics as he turns his attention back to the minibot.

"It was the night Hot Rod gave his crazy speech. She came in, sat down, and ordered a pint of engex. I got distracted by another customer for a bit, and when I turned around, she had slipped through the back door into the alley. Forgot to pay for her drink."

"I paid you later," I protest. Swerve waves a servo at me.

"Shush, he's telling the story! Go on then, what happened?"

"Short time later the bar cleared out as everyone went to go watch the speech in the square. I figured I'd see if she was still around, so I went over to the alley entrance to find her stretched out on the ground, dead to the world."

Swerve turns to look at me, incredulous. "You passed out after one drink?"

I scowl. "It wasn't the drink that knocked me out."

Razorblade interrupts the minibot before he could ask.

"Sunspot over there looks like he could use some help, and we've got some things to catch up on. Think you can handle it?"

Swerve gazes at the silver mech with shining optics. "You really mean it?"

"Sure. You wanted to learn something, right?" Razorblade finds his servo seized again.

"Thankyousomuchyouwon'tregretthisIpromise!"

I grin at Swerve's enthusiasm. I hadn't seen him this pumped since Blurr visited the Lost Light.

Razorblade managew to pull free from Swerve's grip. "Go on, hop to it."

We watch as the minibot rushed over to the bar and begin chattering with his assistant.

"You certainly made his day."

He waves a servo in their direction. "I'll make it up to Sunspot later." Picking up his glass, he drank half of it and set it down.

"So what really happened?"

I rub my helm wearily. "It's a long story. One I'm still not entirely sure I understand."

Razorblade leans back in his seat. "I've got time."

I glance up at him "You're not chummy with Prowl, are you?"

"Depends on which Prowl we're talking about."

"The one half of Cybertron wants to punch in the face."

He crosses his arms. "We're not on the best of terms."

"Does that mean you don't know him or you do and you're in line with half of Cybertron?"

"He tried to shut down my bar." The silver mech takes a long drink. "Tried."

I chuckle. "You'll have to tell me that story sometime." I sip my own drink and lean back, pondering where to start.

"I used to be an intelligence bot under his command. He pulled me off the streets and duped me into working for him.

"I don't know what happened during those years, but evidently it was enough to make me go AWOL and drop off the grid. Turned myself into a completely new bot; the one you met that night. The reason I was so out of it was likely an effect of whatever I used to trash my memory banks."

"Hm," he grunts.

An uncomfortable silence settled between us. I swirled my half-finished drink around in my glass, aware of Razorblade's scrutinizing gaze.

"You ever wish you could go back?" He asks abruptly.

"Primus no. I may have had some rough years on the Lost Light, but I wouldn't want to be stuck serving someone like Prowl."

"Well, I guess I can't call you lightweight anymore."

"Nope."

"How about Blitzy?"

"Don't you dare."

The bartender smirks and finishes off his drink, standing up. "Well, it's been fun, but I'd better go rescue my assistant. Come back anytime and I'll tell you about Prowl's failed career as a prohibition enforcer."

I smile, rising to my pedes. "I look forward to it. Thanks for everything, Razorblade."

He waves me off as I go to pry Swerve away from the counter."

"Nice meeting you, Swerve."

"Nice meeting you too, Razor. Can I call you Razor? Anyways, thanks for letting me help out! I learned more than I thought I would!"

The proprietor smirks. "I'm sure you did."

He calls after us as we left. "See you around...Blitz."

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  I didn't scrap this scene after all! It makes for a nice ending to Program: Rewrite, deleted or no.

  Yes, it's true. Blitz's journey is officially over. Which means I can now focus on the other four stories I've been coming up with scenes for. Feel free to reread this story or go check out my other books: Transformers Ridiculousness, Jackknife and Tailspin, Random Stuff, and Story Scenes. Leave a comment and/or vote if you liked this book!

 Cheers,

~Lethasa