I am an Autobot through and through. I have a thing for Ironhide, as seen in "Times are Changing". However, this story popped in my head and there was nothing I could do about it. So here is the first part to what I'm dubbing "Neutral". Be sure to read the small notes at the end of the chapter, and I hope you enjoy.
Forewarning: There is drug/alcohol use in this story, as well as inevitable sex. If this is out of your comfort zone, I highly advise you to find another story.

For a moment he was in command. His squadron followed orders perfectly that day. Almost too perfectly. The raid was going smoothly. The Autobot base didn't know what hit them. One moment the sound of guns were filling his audios, and the next, a severe pain ripped through the belly of his jet mode. He let out a screech of a reaction, but it was too late. He knew he had to retreat, despite his orders to remain vigilant through the mission.

His optics faded in and out as his speed began to weaken. He cursed at the liquid seeping from the blast wound. His damage reports were telling him to land and repair immediately. He attempted to pilot to the ground, but his navigation systems failed him. At the last moment they kicked back online. His Energon regulator skipped a pulse as he pulled back into his transformation. His heelstruts kicked up sparks and he lost his balance, rolling a few times from the force of impact, making him yelp in pain at every blow. When he finally slowed to a stop he curled around his blast wound as tightly as he could, his systems working overtime.

His damage reports were screaming at him by now, threatening him with inevitable offline status. However, the pain coursing through his sensors left him helpless, draining, and hopelessly alone in unexplored territory. He hadn't been able to track where he had been going. If he were in any better shape, he would have shot himself for the mockery he would be making of his Seeker status.

The pain was becoming more unbearable, and he began to accept the fate dealt to him by the hands of his disgusting foes. When he thought about it, going offline may not have been such a bad thing. Sure he had a few perks, air commander, first lieutenant of the Decepticon army, but at what cost? Constant belittling for his unfortunate failures? It wasn't always his fault that he failed. He didn't deserve the beatings, not all of them anyway. He only tried his best. Granted he did attempt to usurp his leader quite a few more times than he would have liked to admit, but that was a sign of determination, was it not?

He rolled on his side, Energon leaking from his mouthplates as his vents attempted to clear themselves. The reports began to flicker with his vision. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. His Energon regulator slowed. It would be a welcomed respite. His pain receptors went numb. Maybe he'd be honored in some way. His vision left him completely. Or maybe his spark would linger as it had in the past. He found himself chuckling weakly. What a way to go. Soon, all the pain was gone, replaced by pure serenity.

His sensors flickered to life and a dull processor ache tore through his helm. He let out a soft groan and tried to place his claws to his helm. A sharp shock of pain went through his chestplates at the action.

"I wouldn't move just yet."

His optics came back online at a soft voice to his left. A silver painted femme sat in a chair in a corner, a sword held at the ready. "What happened?"

"I found you while looking for scrap parts. You landed outside my town." She kept her attention on her sword. "You're on the edge of the Neutral Territories."

He frowned. "I must have flown farther than I thought." He looked to the ceiling, keeping his optics shuttered. "How long have I been in stasis?"

"Two orns since I found you. Your recovery has been slow, even with my help."

He scoffed but accessed his diagnostic reports. Only a few more things needed self-repair, but they weren't going as fast as he would have liked. He ran his claws over his chestplates, feeling no indication he had been shot at all.

"You'll have minor scarring, but it can be buffed out. I'm sure you 'Cons have someone for that."

He couldn't help but notice the bitterness in her words. "I thought neutral parties stayed out of the war."

"That was until my family missed my graduation from the Cybertron War Academy." He heard a sharp metallic sound echo off the walls of the domicile.

He glanced back over to the femme, seeing her sharpen her blade. "What's your designation?"

"I don't believe you need to know."

He chuckled at her. "A tough Neutral? I didn't know you existed. Most of your kind are backstrutless fools."

"Not everyone has made it out of this war without scars." She glanced at him finally, letting him see purple optics rimmed with yellow. He also saw a gouge mark in her facial plates, over her right eye. She seemed to study him for a moment before setting the sword down.

"Have you decided I'm not a threat?"

"With you flinching at every motion of your servos? I don't think you could do much damage, 'Con." She got up and picked up a scanner device. Without another word she activated it and moved closer to the berth he was laid out on.

He allowed her to check his vitals and track the progress of his repairs. It allowed him to see who exactly he was dealing with. Her slender frame told him she had trans-scanned a smaller vehicle, and her lack of a paint color said more. The Autobots usually used brightly colored paint, same as some of the Decepticons. As she trailed the scanner closer to his helm, he saw a very faint outline of a sigil.

She looked at the scanner, frowning at the results. "You're healing slower than you should be. You aren't allergic to any forms of Energon, are you?"

"Can't say I am. Where did you find enough Energon to replenish my tank?"

"I have my sources." She turned the scanner off and set it on a table nearby. "I suppose it's a minor setback. Another few orns of stasis should finish your repairs."

He waved his claws in dismissal, working off the pain. "I couldn't return to stasis even if it was forced."

She rolled her optics and walked away. "Do as you wish."

He returned his attention to the ceiling, listening to her random small noises as she moved about the domicile. He couldn't glean much of his location, not even the size. The berth he was on was comfortable enough, but seemed to be in the same room as everything else. "Not much space here, is there?"

"I don't need much. It's just me after all."

He kept moving his servos, feeling the pain begin to ebb. "You graduated from the Cybertron War Academy?"

"A long time ago."

"What position?" He was able to prop himself up, giving him a view of the domicile.

"Soldier, as well as field medic. I know how to keep people alive, at least."

He chuckled, looking at his surroundings. It was a quaint little place, very little decoration. He could see the main door, and by it was a monitor mounted on the wall. She herself was leaning on a counter, an Energon cube held slack in her grasp. He was finally able to look down at his chestplates, seeing the scar she had mentioned. He'd have to have Knockout look at it upon his return. His circuits seized. "You said a few orns have passed, correct?"

She nodded. "Why?"

"I need to report in. They'll think I'm dead."

"And that would be a bad thing?"

He arched a browridge at her tone. "It would be," he growled. "I've worked hard to gain the position I have."

"And taken quite a beating. Tell me, whose claw marks are embedded in your wings?"

His optics glowed as he sneered at her. "None of your fragging business, Target Practice."

She only grinned. "Is that the best you can do?"

He pointed his rocket at her, but found he couldn't access his weapons systems.

She clicked her glossa. "I'll have to ask you to refrain from firing a rocket in my home. It's hard enough to keep clean."

He growled in frustration and forced himself into a sitting position on the berth. It was then he noticed it was the only one in the whole unit. "Where have you been recharging during my stasis?"

"I haven't been."

He looked on in surprise, which then turned into a smirk. "Worried about someone you've never met? A Decepticon Air Commander, no less?"

She rolled her optics. "I'm a different sort of Neutral, 'Con. I try to use my skills to help out on either side."

"As a mercenary."

"Field medic. I gave up the sword. It's used purely in defense now." She shrugged and raised the cube to her faceplates. As it was held up to the light, he could see the dark hue of highgrade.

"Have any more of that to spare?"

She snorted. "I live off this stuff more often than not." She retrieved another from her supply cabinet. He was able to see she wasn't lying. Highgrade far outweighed life sustaining Energon. He watched her approach with the extra cube, extending it out for his grasp.

"Not going to say it will mingle with my medications?"

She scoffed and sat in the chair next to her berth again. "I'd like to say I put you on medications for your pain, but your body rejected it. Must have been something in the formula I used." She nodded to his sitting posture. "I can see it is slowly fading from your sensory network, however."

He refused to let her know how much pain he was actually in at that moment in time. "So, is this how you pick up all your mechs?"

She met his challenging grin. "Only the pathetic ones." A laugh escaped her at his growl. "Down, boy. You couldn't handle me."

"I very well could if I were in my prime condition." He took a few deep pulls, relishing the effects of the highgrade. It was a rarity on board the Nemesis, and he would have to degrade himself to the slums of Kaon to find a good shot of it. Hits of anything else were even harder to find. And with his line of work, hits of anything to numb the pain were a welcomed distraction.

"The only thing I could have used for the pain isn't really viewed positively. So, had to wait for you to wake up for you to want this. At least it's some sort of inebriation."

He looked at her as she finished off her cube. "What sort?"

"Lectrode, mainly." She pursed her mouthplates. "I saved your life; you can't turn me in to your army."

He snorted around his cube. Once his vents demanded to be kicked back on he pulled away from the near-empty container. "Do you really think the Decepticon Army would bother throwing you in the jails of Kaon for a few hits of 'Lectrode?" He swept his claws to the main door. "We have quite a few other things to worry about than drugs. Or the ones using it." He swirled the remaining Energon around, looking thoughtful. "Those who use it are usually trying to run from something. Pain, mainly. What could be causing a field medic pain?"

Her demeanor changed rapidly. She looked away, getting up to retrieve another cube. "You don't need to know. Not your business." She looked at him. "What would make you an expert on the effects?"

He grudgingly pointed to his dented wings loaded with claw marks. "My work is a bit… demanding at times." They fell into an uncomfortable silence, forcing him to hide behind the rest of his cube. When he brought it back down empty, he was surprised to see a familiar device in her open palm. The liquid charge looked back at him with welcoming memories of temporary escape. "What's this for?"

"Your pain. You're still in it. You think you're good at hiding it." She tossed it into his grip, setting another cube down next to him.

He scoffed but welcomed the invitation. He paused above the thick exposed cables under the armor of his arm. "How do you know I won't infect your Energon using your device?"

She shrugged, taking a sip from her cube. "Scanner says your Energon is clean. Same as mine. If a virus is what you're expecting, you can take a scan yourself to see I'm not a carrier."

He was in so much pain he would have believed that the Decpticon leader once practiced ballet. He charged the gun and pressed the nozzles into his cables. With a pull of the trigger he felt the pistons shoot an electrical filled current of charged Energon. Almost instantly the pain faded to nothing and he let out a sigh of relief as his head went a bit foggy. He barely felt the gun being pulled from his grasp. Once he realized it was gone, he looked to see her shift some of the armor plates aside on her leg, pressing to one of the thicker cables below. He heard the charge and the shot, and her pleasant mutter of satisfaction. She sat back in her chair as he leaned against the wall next to her berth, knowing his look of serenity matched hers. "Didn't expect a femme like you to hoard such things."

She merely shrugged. "Times are rough. Some days are hard to get through."

"It'd be worse if you were part of a faction. Those slagging scrapheap Autobots keep pressing back against our armada. This whole thing would be over if they would listen to reason. The people need a ruler."

Her smile faded. "Not if your leader rules as he fights." She found solace in her highgrade cube for a moment. She stared at the rippling liquid when she pulled it away. "Megatron is a ruthless warrior. That much should be obvious of an ex-gladiator champion. He's too cold, too calculating to rule as we Cybertronians should be ruled."

He couldn't argue with her. He himself had no different ambitions save for a few when he took over the Decepticon army. If, of course, he could find a moment in time where Megatron was at his weakest. "And you believe Orion— I mean, Optimus Prime, is the mech for the job?"

She shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't know. He seems to be fighting for the right reason. He wants the freedom of all, but upon defeat of the Decepticons, we'd all look to him as a leader. We wouldn't really be free then." She tapped her chin. "Or would we?" She shook her head. "Regardless, under Megatron's rule, we'd all be enslaved to do his bidding. I… I don't want that. I don't think anyone does."

He already led that life, and even though he held enough power of command on his own, he hated it. However, he was a Decepticon at heart. There was no other form of life for him. He left the scientists just for the chance at power. "Why did you save me?"

"You were injured. It's my duty to heal those who are injured when I have the capacity to help. That goes to both sides. I'm only one femme; I can't tip the balance with saving a few lives here and there with how many of you are blown up every day."

You have no idea how much of a balance you robbed the Autobots of. "I suppose I should give you my thanks, Femme."

Her smile finally returned. "Call me Haze."

He nodded, holding up the remains of his cube. "Thank you for another chance, Haze. I am Starscream."

I do have this whole thing finished. I'd just like to know what everyone thinks before I post the rest. I'd like a few reviews of thoughts. At least three. :)