I decided I would go a little more in depth with my headcanon for a relationship mentioned in my BD/KO fic, Grudge, which you can read here on my ff account. puffintalk was the one who really helped me get the story on its feet. Her ideas and suggestions are what shaped this fic and the character. She also drew aforementioned character to further inspire.

I originally intended for this to be a oneshot, but it looks like it might be a couple chapters. You do not have to read Grudge to understand this, as that oneshot is a stand-alone and does not follow the same storyline.

Title: Fire and Ice
Rating: N/A for now; marking as M just to be safe. Will change if fic suits something lower in the end.
Warnings: This story will feature violence (mild, moderate, perhaps strong) as the biggest warning. Most everything else is pretty secure. Watch out for general spoilers for the series thus far. It's mostly gen, so no pairings are specified.
Summary: A new Cybertronian arrives on Earth. However, his intentions and loyalties are questionable.
Notes: Dedicated to puffintalk, naturally. c:
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The car show and auction was a success.

The small convention center was filled with dozens upon dozens of spectators and car connoisseurs. Parked in neat rows for display were a variety of Caparo-T1 vehicles, ranging from colors of blue, red and orange. There was a sheen over their sharp, clean surfaces, glowing from recent and meticulous wax jobs. To keep the fascinated viewers at bay, guards were posted in groups along and at the edges of the display line. Ropes separated the onlookers from the pristine vehicles.

The Caparo-T1s had just been hauled in from England, to be sold to a few lucky, and very rich, buyers.

Billy McLean was bored out of his skull. His father was a bit ashamed of him, considering he was a ten year old boy and cars were what boys of all ages loved and admired. It wasn't as if he thought the cars were boring. Billy thought the Caparo were cool, if not a little weird in design. Definitely not the type you see on the road everyday. It was more the fact he couldn't touch them, couldn't do anything except keep his hands in his pockets and listen to his parents drone on and on with other enthusiasts. They spoke mostly about the Caparo, but in words and terms Billy's small mind could not comprehend.

There were hardly any other kids at the auction. He spotted only two. One was just an infant, sleeping in his mother's arms. The second was a girl, perhaps his age or a year younger, but she appeared as snobby as her parents. So Billy was forced to tag along, speak only when spoken to and not touch anything. It only took about ten minutes after arriving before he started getting anxious and fidgety; it was amazing he hadn't knocked something over by now at two hours.

"I wanna go hooome," Billy whined lowly to himself. He lumbered over to the row of windows, overlooking the desert. He wanted to go to Jimmy's and play race cars. He had many toy vehicles, but most were what his parents called "vintage" or "collectibles", which meant they weren't toys but more so precious, fragile relics. Some stayed in their packages, others Billy was forbidden to touch even if they were his toys and in his room.

Billy dropped his forehead to the warm glass, listening to the soft thunk it made. He began breathing cool air against its surface, watched a sphere of fog disappear just as quick as it appeared. He was vaguely aware a few adults were staring at him, bent forward, head pressed against the window, arms hanging like boneless meat, butt sticking out. No doubt if, or when, his parents saw him, he'd be scolded. It didn't help Billy was posed like this making blubbering bored noises in a neat but staunch suit.

The little boy crossed his eyes, giggled at how the world blurred together. However, in that split second, he swore he saw a giant gush of dirt, sand and dust explode from the ground just fifty yards away in the open desert. He blinked a few times, shook his head. The dust was settling, as if nothing had happened. He was quick to shrug it off as a small dust tornado.

However, something weird happened. Five minutes later, Billy swore he could feel soft vibrations under his feet. He looked out the window again, eyes widen; footprints, very subtle, but quick to disappear in the sand, heading their way. Billy felt a chill run down his spine, whipped around. No one else seemed to have noticed or felt a thing. Continuing to gab it up over wine and hors d'oeuvres.

The soft vibrations ceased, and so did the footsteps. Billy sprinted into a run before halting and slowing to a fast walk. His parents would ream him if he was caught running around like a wild animal. He finally caught up to his parents, still chatting away with some guy that looked like the Monopoly Man and a lady wearing probably ten dozen animals around her neck and arms (even though it was 92 degrees outside). "Mommy," Billy whispered harshly. His mother hadn't noticed him, kept talking and laughing. Billy tugged at her dress, grumbled, "Mommy!"

The brunette blinked and looked down. "Billy?" She looked back to Monopoly Man and Fur Lady with a polite, benign smile. "Excuse me a moment," she chuckled. They nodded; she turned, looking down at her son. "William, what did I tell you about interrupting mommy and daddy when we're talking?" she lectured.

"Mommy!" Billy gasped. "Mommy, I saw somethin' weird outside and I think there was an earthquake, too!"

"What? I didn't feel a thing. What did you see?"

"It looked like - "

"Attention! Ladies and gentlemen!"

Billy's mother raised a hand to interrupt her son, standing and turning with the rest of the crowd. The auction was about to start, a small, British man taking the podium. Billy bit his lip, chanced a look back. He gasped just as a ray of green light shot in from the window without breaking the glass, scanning the display of cars behind the crowd. It swept over the Caparo, disappeared and Billy flailed his arms. "Mommy! Mommy!" he whined.

"Shh," Billy's father scowled, "we are trying to listen to the auctioneer."

"But!"

"Whatever it is can wait til this is over."

"But!"

Billy could hear the familiar hum of an engine starting. He turned, and gaped. Outside in the middle of the bare desert was a car, appearing out of nowhere. This car, however, was the same exact design and color of the blue Caparo the chartreuse light had scanned only seconds ago. Billy ran over to the window, ignored by the adults, smashed his face against its surface with big, bulging eyes.

The blue Caparo's engines revved and roared, dirt spewing from beneath its spinning wheels. With a soft snarl, the car started forward, whipped sharply around and took off, leaving in its trail clouds of dust. Its speed too fast for the little boy to keep track of; when the dust settled, there was no trace of the Caparo, save a few tire tracks.

Billy smiled widely. "Coooool!"

III

"Heya, guys, the microwave's beepin'!"

Ratchet glanced up from his project, optics squinted. "Microwave?" he murmured.

Miko laughed from her spot on the couch. "The comp," she replied. She pointed to the large screen. "Somethin's up."

Raf and 'Bee turned to the computer behind them. The yellow Autobot beeped and hummed. "Yeah," Raf agreed and glanced to the medic making his way over. "'Bee says it's an energy signature from an unknown Cybertronian."

Miko flew off the couch and practically hung over the railing. "A new guy!" She crossed her fingers. "Oh please oh please oh please be an Autobot!"

Ratchet enlarged the sector, displaying a beeping red blip on an intricate, digital map. "It's Cybertronian all right," he murmured, "but there's no indication as to either Autobot or Decepticon."

"Ooo, I like surprises," Miko giggled.

Ratchet glared back at the giddy human. "Well, that's too bad, because you won't be the one to find out," he stated. Miko pursed her lips. "We've had a nice, long chat about you sneaking out on dangerous missions." He nodded to Bulkhead and Arcee emerging into the lounge. "I'm going to send professionals to retrieve our new guest."

"What's up?" Arcee asked, blinking.

Ratchet pointed to the beeping dot. "It seems we've got a new arrival," he explained. "Scanners cannot pinpoint Decepticon or Autobot origin. Just that it's Cybertronian."

"And it's fast," Raf added. It had moved two inches from its position just moments ago.

Bulkhead squinted at the screen. "So how far out is the new guy?"

"Twenty-one klicks outside Jasper," the medic replied. "It appears they're heading in our direction."

"Toward town?" Miko inquired. "Or to this base specifically?"

Bulkhead chuckled. "Impossible," he said. "We've got this place sealed down tight. There's no way this guy could pick up our signals. Especially from that distance."

"Either way, I want you two to intercept him," Ratchet stated, pointing. "But be careful. As I said, we don't know if we're dealing with an Autobot or Decepticon. Or if they're here with good intent."

Arcee stroked her chin. "Have you tried opening a channel?"

"Negative. It's amazing enough we actually caught his signal," Ratchet replied. He glared back at the blip; it had moved again. "He's going fast. Very fast."

Arcee smirked. "I think I might have him beat," she said. In a flash, she transformed into her alt mode.

"I'll fill Optimus in on the details, as soon as he's finished refueling," the medic reassured. He reached out a hand, held it front of Miko as the girl sprinted down the flight of stairs. "I am pretty sure you heard every word I said earlier about you keeping put from now on. Bulkhead and Arcee can handle this on their own."

"It's not as if she wants to help," Raf chuckled, "so much as she wants to watch and take pictures."

Miko glared over the 'bot's hand. "Shush, four-eyes."

As soon as Bulkhead was in vehicule mode, he and Arcee headed out. "I have an idea for the three of you," Ratchet said, smiling at Miko. 'Bee and Raf walked over, curious. "How about having Bumblebee take you both for a nice, long, long, long, long drive, hmm? Do some sightseeing."

Miko frowned. "Ratchet, we live in the desert. What we'll see, we've seen hundreds of times."

"You never know!" the medic purred. Miko slumped down the stairs, sulking. "There might be a new cactus, or a boulder might have shifted! Ooo, imagine that!"

"Dude, just tell us you want us to leave so you can mess with your new doo-hickey."

Ratchet scrunched up his face. "Doo-hickey? That 'doo-hickey' will possibly help save lives!"

Miko rolled her eyes. "Blah blah blah, just like Mr. Kroger," she sighed. She jumped over the rail and over to 'Bee, now in his Camaro form.

Ratchet watched as she got into the car. "Mr. Kroger?" he echoed.

Raf turned from the passenger's door. "Oh, um, he's a chemistry teacher at our school," he explained, smiled weakly, "he's pretty old and very grumpy."

"I bet he's also smart and knows common sense, unlike certain people!" Ratchet snapped. Bumblebee's radio suddenly started blasting loud music that hurt the medic's audios. Raf and Miko loaded inside, the yellow Camaro took off. Ratchet watched them go until he was alone, optic ridges furrowed. "Slagging kids."

III

Arcee and Bulkhead raced down the desolate desert roads, avoiding civilization to the best of their abilities. They couldn't exactly afford to get pulled over.

"Ratchet's sent me the current coordinates of our mystery guest," Arcee explained. "We're getting closer. Seems he's heading in the direction of that one abandoned factory."

"Factory?" Bulkhead echoed, thought a moment. "Do you mean the one we fought some 'Cons at like two days ago?"

"Same one."

"There's nothin' out there. Well, not anymore. What's he want there?"

"Guess we'll just have to ask him."

It took five minutes before the two Autobots stretched off the road and into the open desert. Some yards away, a run down factory stood like an eerie shadow to the backdrop of craggy mountains. Its main building abandoned over ten years ago, the large tanks emptied and rusted, grounds dotted with old barrels and debris. A tall metal gate surrounded the factory, though its front entrance had been blown wide open from a recent battle with Decepticons.

The two drove inside, slowing their pace. "He's not here, not yet," Arcee stated. "Five klicks."

Bulkhead transformed with a laugh. "Comin' back here just made me remember somethin'," he chuckled. "I was fightin' right here with Knockout," he said, thrust out a fist. "Slammed him with an uppercut. His optics nearly popped right out of his head." He threw down his hands and cackled. "Primus, Arcee, you should have seen it. The one time I really wanted a picture taken, and Miko wasn't with us."

Arcee strolled up to his side. She knelt at his feet, reaching out to touch a dried pool of black liquid. "Looks like it," she said. "This energon is his. You must have hit a fuel line."

"It gushed like a geyser, man!"

The femme stood, hands on hips. "He should be here by now," she mumbled. She quickly accessed the tracker, except - "Scrap," she cursed. She looked to her taller companion. "We lost his signal."

Bulkhead blinked. "How is that possible? Pit, we would have sensed his energy signature by ourselves at five klicks," he said.

Arcee shook her head. "I don't know." She checked the signal again; nothing. "It's like he just disappeared or something..."

"Ya think he's usin' some sort of forcefield?"

"That may be i-"

Arcee gasped when she was suddenly knocked over. Bulkhead fell back clumsily, caught his balance before falling. The femme rolled across the dirt, settled out on her stomach. "Arcee!" Bulkhead cried, running toward her. "What happened?"

"Dunno," the femme growled. She jumped to her feet, equipping her gun. "But it was like someone pushed me just now."

"'Pushed' you?" Bulkhead stopped. "But there's nobody - "

Something hard and heavy struck the back of the large Autobot's head. He reeled forward, nearly fell until another blow bashed into his cheek. "Bulkhead!" Arcee exclaimed. She ran to her companion as he toppled over like a pile of bricks. "Bulkhead, you okay?" she asked, gently touching his arm.

Bulkhead groaned. "Feels like I just got hit in the head with a wrecking ball..." He shook his head, popping a dent of metal back in place.

Arcee stood beside him, narrowed optics surveying the land. She saw nothing, sensed nothing. "It's obvious we're not alone," she grumbled, just as she was struck in the chin. Arcee scrambled back, the larger 'bot attempting to get to his feet. Arcee stood, shook her head before she was decked again, this time in the cheek. She flew aside, feet scampering before she whipped around. The femme cocked her gun and fired; it hit nothing, struck the dirt in vain.

"I don't know how you're doing this, but stop being a coward and fight us face to face," Arcee snapped, raising her fists.

There was no response, not for a moment. Then Arcee felt air brush behind and against her shoulder; with a snarl, she cocked her leg and threw it back into a kick, cleanly slicing it through the empty air. Another breeze went past her, just inches beside her frame and she turned, throwing a fist. Nothing but air again, but at least she hadn't been hit. "Come on, you hatchling! Show yourself!"

Arcee grunted as gunfire shot off at her feet. She darted across the empty field, the shots following her close behind. The femme jumped and ducked behind an old barrel, a few hits bending it inward. She quickly sat upright, fired back in the direction of the attacker. There was no return fire, and she settled, waited a moment.

"Did you get him?"

Bulkhead moved slowly toward his companion. His optics scanned the area, weapons in both hands. "Negative," Arcee grumbled. Air blew softly beside her, and Arcee turned her gun, firing at a shimmer of heat. The blast went through the metal, but hit nothing more. "This glitch moves fast," she growled.

Bulkhead snorted. "So I guess you're a Decepticon then, huh?" he shouted, looking around him. "'Cause no Autobot would attack another Autobot."

A warm breeze twisted through the ghost factory, sending out waves of dirt. They stood still, silent and waiting. Arcee listened closely, knowing the only advantage they had over their 'enemy' was sound. Another rush of unnatural wind and the femme quickly stood, pointed her gun at Bulkhead. "Bulk! Get down!" she ordered.

The large 'bot fell forward, and Arcee momentarily stared into a pair of narrow, gleaming yellow eyes. She fired before they disappeared. Bulkhead slowly rose, looked behind him. "Did ya get him this time?" he murmured, spotting a destroyed oil tank.

"No," the femme murmured. She hopped over her shelter and ran quickly to his side. Arcee glared down at a small wet patch of dirt. "But I think I grazed him." Her optics followed droplets leading to the old building. "Follow the trail, and we should find him."

Bulkhead sneered. "Hear that, coward? Can't hide now."

"Then allow me to end this game in my favor."

Arcee was the first to see the air shimmer as it melted into blue and white. She was briefly frozen with surprise before Bulkhead shoved her aside. Appearing literally from thin air, the blue mech pounced on the larger 'bot, knocked him on his back. Before the Autobot could attack, the mech pressed the barrel of his gun to his throat.

Arcee growled and rolled to a sit. "Let him go," she ordered.

The blue mech kept his yellow optics trained on Bulkhead. "Not until I get a few answers," he insisted. "Tell me: Where is Knock Out?"

"Knock Out?" Bulkhead spat. "How should I know?"

The mech nudged the gun against a fuel pump. "Don't play stupid, Autobot," he growled. "You reek of him."

"I do? Well, slag. I guess I need to take a shower then."

Arcee stood, only to find a second weapon aimed at her face. "We honestly don't know where he is," she stated, staying firmly in place. "If we did, trust us, we would have taken care of him by now."

One yellow optic rolled back to glare at the femme. She did not step down. "He was here, you were all here. You hit him, but he got away," he grumbled. "Did you not think to track or follow him?"

"We were unable to," Arcee said, "since we had our hands busy with Megatron and his lackeys."

The mech was quiet a moment. He kept his gun nestled against Bulkhead's throat, but the 'bot didn't seem afraid. "Figures," he grumbled before jumping back and off the larger Autobot. Bulkhead sat up, reaching for his guns. The mech had lowered his, turned his head just as Arcee held her weapon a foot from his face. "You Autobots never seem to get results."

"Seems like we did a fine job with you."

"Only because I let you."

Arcee knit her optic ridges. "You seem to be having a hard time locating that whackjob yourself, you know," she growled. She studied his chassis; tall and lean, a scowl on his pale white face. "I don't see a Decepticon insignia on you. But by the way you addressed us just now, I take it you don't bat for our team either."

"I don't work under any faction," the mech snorted.

"A neutral, then?" Bulkhead replied. "Must explain your optics."

"I'll ask you again for your designation," the femme said. "Or we can have our medic dig it out while he's dissecting your CPU."

The mech sneered. "Your scare tactics won't work on me. You're Autobots. I doubt your Autobot medic would even touch me without my consent." He tucked his weapons away, remaining calm even with three guns on him. "But if you must know, my designation is Mirage."

Arcee widened her optics. "Mirage? Towers' Prince Mirage?"

Mirage smiled, optics lidded. "Ah, so you've heard of me then," he chuckled. The corner of his grin twitched. "Even now, my reputation proceeds me and goes untarnished. It's rather hard to blend in the background when everyone knows your name."

Bulkhead looked to his companion. "You know this mech?" he asked.

"Not personally, but he was rather infamous before the war broke out," Arcee snorted. She smiled wryly. "His big parties and celebrity antics always in the Cybertronian. As if the public needed to know how you carelessly wasted your credits."

Mirage glared. "I earned those credits, as I earned the right to spend them however I pleased," he insisted. "I never asked for the paparazzi to shadow my every move, nor publish my stories in their zines. Some were meant to be personal, but where there's a fire, there's always a spectator."

"Mirage here was nicknamed Prince of the Towers," Arcee continued. "Well, until they were destroyed."

Mirage's optics burned with a seething hatred. Even Bulkhead could sense it. Arcee had struck a nerve. "If you can't tell me Knock Out's whereabouts, then I've no more business with you," he scowled. "You can lower your weapons. I don't intend to fight you. I couldn't trust you before, but now that I know you're Autobots and telling the truth, I will leave you unharmed."

Arcee laughed. "You have that invisibility cloak as an advantage, but it doesn't mean you can take us out so easily," she snapped. Her weapons remained in place. "As for letting you go, afraid not. You need to report to Optimus; he'll decide."

Mirage's optics widened. "Optimus Prime is here?" He frowned quickly. "I do not have to listen to you. I'm not an Autobot. If you think I'm here to cause harm to your precious planet, rest assured it's safe." His optics narrowed. "My business is with Knock Out and Knock Out alone."

"And how can we trust your word, prince? After all, you made a terrible first impression."

"I've come across hundreds of Autobots who were turncoats and liars," the blue mech hissed, "why should I have thought any different of you?"

Bulkhead rolled his optics. "This whole interrogatin' thing ain't my deal," he said, heading for Mirage. "Let's get you back to base. Optimus'll know what to do with you."

"You can't take me prisoner!"

"We won't if you're willing to work with us." The femme stepped back, weapons away. Bulkhead lowered his.

Mirage scowled. "How do you know I'm not lying about Knock Out and my intentions? What if my target is Prime? You'd be falling right into my trap."

Arcee smiled wickedly. "Well, then," she said, "I guess we're just going to have to strip you."

III

"You're wasting my time!"

Airachnid chortled. "As if you've anything better to do than sulk in your quarters," she taunted. Starscream's entire frame quivered with barely-controlled anger. The femme turned and pointed to the screen. "It was there for only a klik; I thought it was an error in the mainframe at first. But sure enough, it reappeared three kliks ago, mega-miles from its original location."

"I don't see any energy signature," Starscream growled, pointing to the screen. "Or maybe your optics are playing tricks on you? I hear mingling with organics for a long period of time rots your processors."

Airachnid sneered. "Sorry, commander, but," she paused, quickly played a recording of the beeping signal. "I just happen to be more perceptive. You might have seen it yourself, had you been at your post."

Starscream bristled. "Tell me, then, what is the origin of this signature?"

"Cybertronian, but it's not Decepticon. Nor is it Autobot."

"A neutral then? Is that why you forced me out of my work?" the Seeker spat.

"Given the circumstances of his signature and its ability to disappear and reappear at will, it should at least strike some sort of interest," the femme replied. Her optic ridges lifted. "Or are you too busy concocting another harebrained scheme to overthrow Lord Megatron?"

Starscream flew up to Airachnid, a talon pointed at her face. "Must I remind you that I am your superior and thus you should treat me with respect!" Coolant spittle sprayed across her face. She frowned but remained still. "If there is no cause for concern, then leave 'the neutral' be. No use wasting our mech and firepower."

"We're assuming. There's no hard evidence that they are a neutral."

"Do you want to go and chase this ghost blip around, Airachnid? You might be more useful then."

"Ah, I hear we're having company!"

The two Decepticons looked back, just as Knock Out and his one-eyed partner emerged from the shadows. "What are you doing here?" Starscream growled. "Your services are not needed."

"Nor are they in the medbay, as of right now," Knock Out replied and shrugged. "I just overhead your conversation, and, well, I wanted to know if I'll be putting out the fine China tonight."

Starscream wanted to rip off the medic's face. "Airachnid here seems to have recorded what very well may be just a small glitch in the system," he grumbled.

"There's no sign that the Cybertronian is Decepticon or Autobot," the femme explained, ignoring her commander. "But the way in which the energy signature fluctuates is worth investigating." Airachnid stroked her chin. "I sense an energy dampener. Or perhaps a cloaking device."

Starscream hissed. "Impossible!" he snapped. "Our radars can penetrate any cloaking device and pick up even the faintest of energy signals!"

"This one is unique then."

"It's a glitch, you glitch!"

"A cloaking device, you say?"

The two stopped arguing, watched as Knock Out strolled forward. He walked around the fuming Seeker, up to the screen. Watched the recordings loop to show the signature appear then reappear miles away later. He brought a hand to his cheek, stroked as his optics studied the video. "From what I know of the Nemesis's operating systems, they can pick up artificial cloaking devices." He smiled back at the two. "Keyword being 'device'. But what if this power is not generated from any machine or weapon?"

"A natural cloaking ability?" Airachnid replied. "That's not yet been mastered. Only three known persons with this power to cloak their signatures exist. Two are Decepticons and the third deactivated."

Knock Out hummed. "There is no proof backing this claim up. No hard evidence that the third Cybertronian died."

"How would you know?" Starscream demanded.

Knock Out smiled kindly. "I've always been fond of rare, natural talents and abilities. We all have a special talent, but invisibility without the aide of a device is almost unheard of," he explained. "So, I... Did a little research."

"Regardless if it is a device or natural ability," Airachnid said, "we should track them down. They could come in handy."

"If you want to go chasing phantom energy signals, be my guest," Starscream grumbled.

"Lord Megatron has assigned me to another task."

Starscream cocked an optic ridge. "What? When?"

"None of your business, as you would say."

"I'm his second in command!" Starscream snarled. "I have every right to know!"

"Why don't you just send a few of the drones?" Knock Out suggested, stepping between them. He grinned at each. "I'm sure if it's something we should be concerned with, we'll know when they don't report back."

Starscream massaged his temples. "This is a waste of time. All of this," he growled. "But." Airachnid might take this information to Megatron; he would give him Hell if, indeed, the tyrant king found this worthy of their attention. "I will send a team of Eradicons to deal with it."

"Wisest decision you've made in, well... In a very long time, I suppose."

"I will see your aft in the mines if you do not shut up!"

"Should we report this to Lord Megatron?" Breakdown spoke up.

"I all ready have," Airachnid assured. The Seeker gaped at her. "He said the Eradicons can take care of it until we have better results." She smiled darkly at her commander. "But to make sure I ran it by you before I did anything. Sorry I didn't mention this at the get go, but you were so insistent on not listening."

Starscream wanted to wring her neck and then throw her remains in a smelting pool. "You..." He was shaking again, claws twitching.

Knock Out whistled. "Welp, better get back to the medbay. I'll expect one of you there for repairs soon."

III

"Children."

Miko, Jack and Raf looked up from their video game, a chip hanging from Miko's mouth. Optimus approached them, face more solemn than usual. "It appears our guest has shown hostility and attacked Arcee and Bulkhead. Though he surrendered, and has agreed to speak with us, I fear he may still be reckless and pose a threat should he decide to turn on us. I ask that you three leave the room until everything is secure and settled."

Miko threw down her controls with a groan. "Awww, man! If there's any danger, you won't let anything happen."

Jack elbowed her in the arm. "Let's not argue," he mumbled. Miko blinked then looked back at the Autobot leader. He was glaring; not out of rage or disapproval with her attempts at arguing. The type worn by parents when they were serious about grounding you for a month. The girl sighed but mumbled an "okay", her and Raf following Jack into the next room.

Ratchet opened the ground bridge, gathering alongside 'Bee and Optimus. They stared into the coiling warp of light and energy before figures emerged slowly. Bulkhead and Arcee stood on either side of Mirage; the mech looked agitated. Once the ground bridge was closed, Optimus approached Mirage, extended a hand. "Welcome to Earth, my friend. Arcee told me you go by the name Mirage. I am Optimus Prime; beside me, my scout, Bumblebee and my CMO, Ratchet."

"Right," Mirage replied. "Didn't think I'd be running into a Prime."

"Why have you come to this planet?"

Mirage smirked. "What's it to you?"

"As Cybertronian ambassador on behalf of Earth and the human race, it is one of my priorities to see to any alien activity, Autobot or Decepticon in nature," the Autobot leader explained. "As soon as you touched down on this planet, you essentially became my responsibility." He tilted his head. "I was also informed you do not identify nor work for the Decepticons, however."

"I'm no Autobot, either, in case she left that out." The blue mech glanced to Arcee, who kept her optics forward and gun secure in hand. "My interest does not lie in your war. I want nothing to do with these human lifeforms or their resources," Mirage insisted, firmly. "My business is with Knock Out, as I have told your soldiers countless times before."

"I would ask why you seek Knock Out, but I find you will be reluctant to answer that as well," Optimus said.

"Bingo." Mirage stepped forward, raised a hand to Bulkhead. "Easy, lugnut." The large Autobot glowered but allowed Mirage to approach Optimus. "Look. If it helps any, my cause is not too different from yours. Stop the Decepticons; in my case, just one. You and your party" - he paused, glanced around - "though tiny as it may be, can handle the rest, I'm sure."

Optimus frowned. "We are in dire need of helping hands, yes," he confessed. "It would benefit all of us if you were to join our team."

Mirage shook his head. "No go. Not my mess."

"Not your mess?" Ratchet spat. "May I remind you that as a Cybertronian, you are involved in this war, whether you like it or not." He jerked a thumb to Optimus. "The Autobots here are trying to defend our people and see to not only the survival of our race, but this planet's as well."

Bulkhead sneered. "What can you expect from a neutral? Most of 'em just prefer to shut down their audios and pretend nothing's wrong."

Mirage glared back at the larger mech. "You know nothing of me. Where I've been, what I've done." He bristled, yellow optics darkening as they shifted aside. "What I've seen."

Arcee stepped forward. "I believe him," she said. Her comrades looked at her, surprised, all but Optimus, who listened closely. "He's a neutral; a selfish one, too, but he knows how to fight."

"So what does that make you, if not a soldier?"

"A bounty hunter," Mirage answered, rasped nails across his chest. They clicked in a short rhythm. "Or something close to it. Honestly, I..." He scowled. "Why am I bothering with any of you? I'm not going to harm your darling planet or touch a single hair on your fleshy friends," he snorted. "Once I have Knock Out, I'll leave. Quietly."

"With an alt mode like yours, are you sure?"

"Perhaps we may come to a compromise, Mirage," Optimus suggested. The blue mech sighed. "We have had many encounters with Knock Out. Surely we shall have many more. If you were to aide us, there is no doubt you will find him. Without our help, he may be impossible to track."

Mirage considered his offer a moment. "Still too complicated," he grumbled, "involving so many people. Not my style, working with others."

"Well, make it your style, big shot," the medic growled, arms akimbo. "Because without us, you won't get far. Not only with hunting down Knock Out, but blending in with the natives." He pointed. "You can say all you want about the humans, but they're tough and resilient. You slip up just once and you'll have your aft handed to you. If not by their governments, then MECH."

Mirage cocked an optic ridge. "MECH?"

"They took down Breakdown; if you know Knock Out, then you definitely know about his partner. He's missing an optic thanks to MECH. Would have probably been dissembled if not for our merciful aide," Bulkhead explained.

Arcee added: "Nearly lost my spark to them as well. I've seen their power and the extents they will go to to get what they want. Airachnid was even in cahoots with them."

"Airachnid? That mad butcher?" Mirage hissed. "She's on this planet, too?"

"Afraid so."

"And if MECH catches you, you're in for a world of hurt, pal," Bulkhead said. "Not only that, but they could engineer weapons out of your CNA and parts alone. So your one-man, undercover operation here could lead to a global crisis."

"And that we cannot allow," Optimus said, voice stern.

Mirage frowned. "So, what? What does this mean for me?" He held out his arms. "You keep me prisoner here because you think I'll be too clumsy and will disrupt your little hide and seek game?" He snarled. "That doesn't sound like Prime behavior. Forcing mechs into your ranks."

"I do not wish to imprison nor force you into anything," Optimus reassured, "but the safety of over a billion lives rests on how we all conduct ourselves." He stepped forward, looked down at the smaller, blue mech. "I will not allow more harm to fall on these people. They have suffered enough because of our war."

"So your ultimate goal is to get me to agree to your compromise?" Mirage asked, tilted his head. "I agree to help you out and when we confront Knock Out, you'll agree to hand him over to me and let me leave the planet?"

Optimus nodded. "It is my hope you will accept."

The blue mech studied Prime's optics. He stared back, unblinking, unmoving, that expression tough as steel, leaving no room for argument. He exuded power, maturity and yet a soft fragility; love and respect for his men, for the aliens around him. Mirage might have felt a little overwhelmed by the majestic way the Autobot leader held himself, how strong he stood despite the many battle scars and tragedies he carried.

Suddenly, 'Bee released a collection of loud beeps. Attention was drawn to the yellow Autobot; he pointed at the screen. A squall of purple blips were moving across the map.

"Looks like the winged monkeys are out again," Bulkhead snorted.

"Most likely drones," Ratchet added. He squinted at the blips. "Ten in total, it appears. They seem to be making their way to - "

"The factory?" Arcee interjected, optic ridges furrowed. "We just came back from there."

"Think they might have picked up on your energy signals?"

"Probably," the femme replied. "But why come now? Our energy signatures should have cleared the area five kliks after we departed."

"It's been nearly fifteen now," Bulkhead added.

"Unless they picked up your signatures earlier on, and only now are acting."

"Seems fishy."

"Or maybe there was something in one of the signatures that made it worth their while."

Ratchet and 'Bee stepped aside as the lean, blue mech moved between them. He glared up at the fleet gliding across the screen. "They must have picked up my energy signal as well."

"What about it?"

Mirage glanced at Ratchet. "My energy signature is... rare, for lack of a better word," he explained. "It always has been."

"Because of his cloaking power," Arcee stated. Mirage glared at her, but she just continued: "He has natural cloaking abilities. No device. Because of this, his signature would be a little off from the norm."

Ratchet frowned. "We shouldn't be concerned about them tracing his signature to the base. The ground bridge makes it impossible."

"My signature would register like any other," Mirage said, trailing off. He hesitated a moment. "It only mutates for a few split nanoseconds, whenever I activate or deactivate my cloaking device."

"They won't find anything," Arcee assured. "We left nothing behind. They're just wasting their time."

Mirage sneered. "I don't know about them, but this is perfect for me," he chortled. He looked back to the medic. "Activate your ground bridge at least twelve klicks from the site. I will take care of them."

"Drones they may be, and no matter how extravagant your cloaking powers, you would hardly stand a chance against ten of them."

"I've taken on and defeated a gestalt before, old timer," Mirage stated and Ratchet scowled, "I think I can handle a couple Decepticon drones."

Optimus hummed low in his vocalizer. "We can justly assume you are their target. If you were to fall in battle, they would get what they came for."

"I'm not about to let some 'Cons take me down," Mirage hissed. "Activate the bridge."

"This isn't the Towers, Mirage," Arcee said, "you can't just do whatever and go wherever you please."

Mirage snapped back at her: "You stay out of this!"

"They've arrived at the coordinates."

'Bee turned and spoke to Optimus. The Autobot leader shook his head. "We will not engage in an unnecessary battle. It is not worth the risk." He stepped aside. "Once the Eradicons realize their mission is a failure, they will report back to their leaders. Should we get involved, we may only cause trouble."

Mirage flared. "I can make this real hard, or real simple for you Autobots," he spat. "You can bridge me to the coordinates and let me do my work and I'll make sure none of them leave the place alive. But if you refuse," with a roar, he transformed, the Caparo's engines snarling, "I can take the long route and possibly expose the location of your base."

Ratchet gaped. "You wouldn't dare!"

Optimus's brows knitted. "Would you willingly risk others to carry out your mission?"

Mirage didn't answer. His engine gave another growl. The Autobot leader lifted his head, inhaled. "Ratchet," he said, looked to his medic. "Activate the ground bridge. Twelve klicks from the old factory."

"But Optimus!"

"It is a catch-22, my friend," Optimus sighed, "Mirage will not stand down. In the interest of keeping our existence as well as the safety of the people involved intact, we must let him go."

"You're on a suicide mission, you know," Arcee grumbled at the blue Caparo.

"I am not trying to be the bad guy," Mirage said, tiredly, "but I have to do something if I am to get to Knock Out. One of them will tell me what I need to know."

"They're drones, yes, but they're very loyal and stubborn. Torture all you want, there's a possibility they'll only spit in your faceplates."

"A risk worth taking then."

There was a moment of silence and repose before Ratchet, with an irritated sigh, opened the bridge. Mirage whipped around, riding at maximum speed into the portal. Arcee looked back at her leader, who gave a silent nod.

III

A second later, the bridge warped open, Mirage driving out into the open. He transformed quickly, checking his weapons. Only -

"Some bounty hunter you are."

Mirage twirled around. Arcee and Optimus emerged from the portal, just as it closed. The femme threw him his guns.

"You are driven by emotion, which makes this mission all the more dangerous," Optimus said.

Mirage gathered his weapons. "Stay out of this," he grumbled and placed them back in their proper compartments.

"I'm afraid not."

The blue mech had meant to dodge the attack, but Arcee was fast. Just as she was agile and graceful. He felt a small volt of electricity pierce his back, like a quick pinch. He groped along his chassis once the pain settled. "What did you do?"

Arcee smiled. "Oh, nothing."

Mirage grit his denta. "I'll deal with you later," he spat before he disappeared in the wink of an eye. He moved fast and quick, too quick for the Autobots to follow.

Arcee flipped open the tracker, a small yellow dot racing toward the factory on its screen. "Ratchet will be happy to hear it works," she smirked.

"We've no time to waste," Optimus said and transformed.

III

Mirage remained invisible as he scouted the area. He watched the Eradicons closely, searching for the weakest and strongest of the chain. They stuck mostly in a group formation, leaving it almost impossible to separate the herd. The drones' machines were scanning the area, searching for any sign of the elusive, alien energy.

The blue mech walked quietly around a pile of scrap metal. Picking up a large rock, he pitched it over their heads. The moment it hit the building's wall with a small thunk, four of the Eradicons activated their guns and aimed. Mirage chucked more rocks in two different directions, until their attention was scattered. Sprinting forward, he leaped over the barrels and toward the group.

One Eradicon saw the dust puff off the ground from his landing. He turned his gun, went to fire, before Mirage's fist connected with his face. The drone flew back, two of his comrades rushing to his aide. The mech worked his way into the group, bashing and knocking them aside. Despite the Autobots' warning, they were proving to be quite easy to take out.

That was, until, something struck him in the thigh. Mirage growled, stumbled back. Normally the hit would be superficial, but instead, he found he was suddenly visible to the Eradicons. Attempting to reactivate his cloaking device was futile; he glared at the drone who shot him, in his hand a strange gun. "Whatever," the blue mech spat, weapons equipped, "no plating off my chassis."

Mirage fired on the Eradicons, dodging their blasts. He rolled across the ground, uppercut one drone and elbowing another in the face. Two were down, but the remaining eight were going on strong. Mirage shot a third, missed; turned just in time to duck from a blast to the head. He jumped to a stand, fired again; hit one in the shoulder, the Eradicon wheeling back and dropping his weapon.

It would have seemed, though slightly overpowered, Mirage had the upper-hand. That was until they decided to use common sense. The drones lined up together, released a torrent of laser blasts at the Autobot. He couldn't dodge them all, forced to run; their shots followed, leaving him dancing and jumping and rolling. He was lucky he had only earned a few scratches and nothing fatal.

As if they had been taunting the mech until now, four of the Eradicons took flight, hovered above their comrades. The fire came from above and below now. Mirage attempted to cloak himself, but still found it impossible. It had to have been that strange gun - something scrambled his device. He charged back, fire following him from the skies. Tumbling over a rock, he shot a blast; got one in the visor, knocking the drone to the earth. Collected shots blew up the boulder, spitting dust and pebbles in his face. He threw himself back quickly, but not without getting a hit in the foot.

"How you holdin' up, big guy?"

Mirage blinked and looked back. Suddenly, Optimus was kneeling in front of him, using his massive arm and leg as a shield. Arcee ran forward, grabbed Mirage's shoulders from behind. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, flabbergasted. "This is my - "

"You may not be an Autobot, but we do not leave the helpless to fight alone," Optimus said firmly, battlemask in place. He looked to the femme. "Arcee, get him to shelter."

Arcee nodded. "Come on," she snapped, took his arm. Mirage stared at the Autobot leader, taking the blows just to protect him. The femme jerked him to his feet, yanked him to hide behind the building. Optimus stood and turned, the Eradicons momentarily ceasing fire. The Autobot's hands whirred as his guns clicked into place, and ammunition roared and ripped through the sky.

Arcee pushed Mirage aside, knelt and looked around the corner. Optimus had taken out the airforce, but was still dealing with the remaining ground soldiers. "Funny. They usually retreat by now," she sneered. She cocked her gun and fired, hitting an Eradicon in the rear. "See you only got two yourself."

"I told you not to interfere!" Mirage spat.

He went to stand before the Autobot smacked a hand against his chest, forced him still. "If you haven't noticed, you're wounded." They both looked at the tear in his foot, leaking purple energon. "And as I'm sure you know, you hinder more than help when you're injured on the battlefield."

Mirage raked hands down his helm. "I need one of those Eradicons alive!" he insisted. "They must tell me where I can find Knock Out!"

"Good luck," Arcee laughed. She fired another shot; it knocked a drone attempting to sneak up on Prime aside. "Even if they did spill the beans, you wouldn't make it fifty klicks alone to their base. We've been trying to locate it for years now, and we've still come up with nothing."

"Nothing?" Mirage gaped. "How is that possible!"

Arcee narrowed an optic. "You... haven't been bounty hunting for long, have you?" she demanded. The mech's lips formed into a firm, flat line. "I mean, I'm pretty sure you've had your fair share of battle. You've got the skills. But you need work. And more experience." She fired again, missed this time. Optimus was down to two now. "I take it the few encounters you've had with Decepticons have been far and few in between."

"You think I'm a liar?"

"No. I just think you give yourself too much credit." She winked. "Must be a Towers trait."

The gunfire ended, and everything went still and quiet. Mirage gasped and jumped to his feet, racing out behind the building before Arcee could stop him. He staggered into the middle of the battlefield, stareing wide-eyed at all the Eradicon remains. "You," he breathed, glared up at Optimus. He was injured, but nothing fatal, energon streaking down from cuts in his arms, leg and hip. "You were suppose to take one prisoner! You killed them all!"

"I had no choice," Optimus replied. Arcee approached him, gently touched and examined the hip wound.

"We could have gotten information out of them! Where to locate the Decepticon fortress!" Mirage yelled. "You - You idiot!"

Suddenly, the warm barrel of a plasma gun was against his face. Arcee glared hellfire at the surprised mech. "You can disagree all you want with Optimus's decisions," she growled, "but he's a Prime. And you will show him some respect."

Mirage looked between the two Autobots. Arcee's threatening gaze, Optimus's own gentle but firm. The blue mech clenched his denta and stepped back. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll go back with you. But if only for one reason..." He moved over to the pile of Eradicons, shoved one off another and wrenched the gun from the corpse's hand. The same that had stunned and disabled his cloaking device. "To figure out what the Pit this is."

T/B/C

A/N:

For visual aide, this is what Mirage looks like, as designed/drawn by puffintalk: http : / / guffawing . tumblr . com / post / 9263495109 / puffintalk-tf-p-mirage-now-with-effort Remove spaces to access link. If not, Google or your search engine will most likely pop up with a related link to click if you paste it in the url bar.

His alt mode was also chosen by Lundi. Google image search Caparo-T1.

Part of me wants to think Starscream would show interest in the neutral, but he's bitchy and was busy, so he-no-curr.

Kliks and klicks differ in this fic - a klik is a Cybertronian equivalent of a minute, while klick follows the military definition for kilometer.