I'm sorry I haven't written at all much lately (Indeed long time no see, runner) but I have had to prepare for my Board Exams this year, which severely cut down on writing time. I also had a bit of writers' block. And so now I'm posting this in the middle of the exams. Go figure.

This is only based off of the Transformers : Prime cartoon and not off of the entire Aligned Continuity, so all the Wreckers are created by me - except for Wheeljack, and the ones Wheeljack mentioned in the episode Loose Cannons. This is because I thought of and wrote this before I did some research into that, and to change it now would probably not make much sense, because I have only watched the Prime cartoon and so if I used the actual characters, it would probably upset people who know them because they sound OOC.

Think of it as something of AU within the Aligned continuity, but conforming to Transformers : Prime. If that makes sense.

Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

"Seriously, sir?"

"Yes, Roll Up." Ultra Magnus' tone suggested that he was tired of the conversation, but I persisted anyway. "But why you, sir? I mean, wouldn't Ironhide or somebot similar be a bit more suited to the task at servo?" He sighed.

We were standing outside of the Wreckers' top secret hangar. We had buzzed the bell and given word prior to our arrival. And yet, it seemed that there was nobot to receive us. On top of that, it was Retan season, the season of cold, and I was soon chilled to my spinal strut. One must try to keep appearances up in front of Ultra Magnus, though, or he will misinterpret your discomfort for weakness and swiftly reprimand you for it. So I stood up straight and tried not to show that the cold was bothering me.

He looked at me, a little irritated. He likes to answer questions slowly, giving explanations at his own pace. But I'm used to it. I've been his lieutenant for a pretty long time. "Ironhide offlined a week ago." He answered gruffly. "I assume you haven't heard of it because we were on that mission in Vos." I winced. The mission in Vos had been pretty horrible. It was more or less a complete failure. Almost all of our team had been lost. "Yes, sir." And that was the end of our conversation about that.

You see, Ultra Magnus had been told to take charge of the Wreckers. His mission was to get them in line and thoroughly disciplined before the Exodus. His lieutenant, that is, I, was commissioned to go with him, while what remained of our team had been assigned to various other units. This was Optimus Prime's backup plan: In case Megatron ever pulled any fast moves, the Wreckers would be fully prepared to deal with protecting Cybertron, disciplined by Ultra Magnus, while Plan:Exodus was put into action. Of course, at the time, nobot really thought such a possibility likely. At least, that's what I'd originally thought.

He gave me a sidelong glance and at last realized what was bothering me. "Roll Up, are you cold?" My spinal strut sagged a little with relief. Finally, he figured it out. I resisted the urge to roll my optics. "Definitely, sir. Could we seek somewhere a little more sheltered?" I'm a femme, after all, and my frame is much smaller than his.

He looked at the deep blue sky. It was starting to darken. It would get even colder soon, and the wind was starting to pick up. Then he scanned the ground as to where we might go. There wasn't much out there, in the outskirts of now destroyed Tarn. He found a small shed a little way off and pointed to it.

"There." He decided. "And once we reach there, I will comm. the Wrecker stand-in and ask him what the matter is." The Wrecker stand-in was a mech named Wheeljack. They had lost their commander-in-chief a few days ago – a mech called Pyrophosphate, or Pyro, I believe – and Wheeljack had been authorized as temporary commander. Now he would relinquish command to Ultra Magnus.

We trudged up a small hill to the shed and found it to be an abandoned storehouse for outdated medical tools. The place had been raided some years ago, that much we could easily tell, but some tools remained on their shelves, dusty and forgotten. This seemed to point to the fact that whoever had tried to raid the place had been interrupted by something or the other, but since there was no other evidence immediately visible, I had to give up wondering about it.

Instead, I sat down besides Ultra Magnus on a rusty crate as he comm.-ed the Wreckers. I had received basic medical training and itched to examine the tools, but I knew that I would not be permitted to do so.

"We arrived here a cycle ago." said Ultra Magnus in a low voice. "No, nobot answered." There was a pause. Then – "Very well." And he cut it off and glanced at me importantly. "Apparently, there is bot in the hangar right now." I narrowed my optics. "His name is Camshaft, and his audio receptors were permanently damaged some stellar cycles ago, so that he can barely hear. He's their mechanic. Apparently he was left there and they did not realize that he would not be able to hear our arrival, as they are currently out on some mission."

I raised an optic ridge. That didn't sound right. Wreckers were the big guys, the muscle, the backup, the last resort in every battle. Their jobs were always do or die. If what I'd heard was true, they planned their assaults down to the last astrosecond so that things were kept minimum casualty. This kind of sloppiness...didn't fit in with the Wrecker standard. As per standard protocol, one has to keep at least two 'Bots in the base at all times. And keeping a handicapped one in there all alone? That was a new low in terms of craziness.

"That does not sound Wrecker style... Sir." I said to Ultra Magnus. "They would not be so careless, unless they had done it on purpose – but why?"

He sighed and looked away. "Never mind that now." He said gruffly. "Wheeljack is in the process of sending me Camshaft's comm. frequency so that I can contact him personally and command him to let us in." Ultra Magnus gave a little start as the ping of the message was heard to nobot but him. "I have received it." He said, as though I hadn't noticed. I suppressed a laugh and settled for a small smile.

"Camshaft, I command you to open the door of your outpost this moment." The 'Bot must've said something rude, because Ultra Magnus' expression grew truly irritated. "This is Ultra Magnus. I have been commissioned to take control of your unit. Open the door!" I walked over to the dilapidated door of the shed and pushed it open. Ultra Magnus disconnected the link. "Shall we go, sir?" I asked quietly. He nodded shortly.

We walked back to the hangar. It was a huge structure, clumsily impressive, sort of like the Wreckers themselves. A large black and green figure was waiting for us at the doorway. "Ya kept me waiting." Camshaft complained. Ultra Magnus brushed him aside as he went into the building.

I scrutinized Camshaft. He was heavily armored, like one would expect a Wrecker to be. The mech was bulky, with a round kind of structure of frame. He contrasted pretty heavily with my smaller, dark blue and yellow frame, unremarkable as it was. I hadn't been built for beauty, or even to look interesting – I had been purely functional, a receptionist in a tiny, tucked away corner of the bureaucracy. He looked big enough to have been somewhere important. A few wires hung out of both his audio receptors.

"And who're you? Or are you Magnus and he's Ultra, or something?" I gave him a look. I was sure he wasn't that stupid. No, he was just trying to get my gears in a grind. "I am Roll Up. Lieutenant to Ultra Magnus."

"What?" I repeated myself a little louder. "I am Roll Up, I said. Lieutenant to Ultra Magnus."

"A femme? A lieutenant? Psht." I gave him another, more weary, look. Discrimination was still rampant, even at this stage of the war. I knew that Ultra Magnus believed in me just as he believed in any other mech, but some of these older 'Bots... Well, they'd learn when the saw me in battle. Most of them did, anyway. "I am capable enough." And I walked away. "Touchy."

The room at the end of the passage was absolutely huge. I realized that it was their Command Center – I had studied plans of the base before coming here. A groundbridge was in the center of the room. There were at least ten to fifteen monitors showing different types of data. My commander was in the corner, examining one of them. To the far right, there was a long table, with datapads neatly stacked at one end. I counted the chairs. Fourteen chairs, for fourteen Wreckers. I was shocked.

I'd always heard of the Wreckers as a massive task force. At least fifty 'Bots to their calling. This base had definitely been built for fifty 'Bots. And only fourteen chairs...? They must've suffered pretty heavy losses, almost as we had. Perhaps that was what was at the root cause of the accused indiscipline.

I wondered if Ultra Magnus had noticed this and I was about to mention it to him, but then Camshaft entered and I felt it unwise to speak about it in front of him, especially if what I had been thinking was true. So I filed it away for later thought.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'll open the groundbridge." I realized that Camshaft was talking on his comm. link. He crossed over to one of the monitors , elbowed Ultra Magnus out of the way and pulled a lever. A groundbridge portal appeared in front of us and out stepped Wheeljack and his crew.

Wheeljack was easily recognizable as the leader. He was stocky rather than bulky, his frame all hard edges and no curves. His paintjob was mostly white, with splashes of red and green. Odd choice of colors for a Wrecker, since everybot else's were darker looking. Two katanas hung at his back. Most of the others were talking about something or the other and a few were laughing. I saw Wheeljack's optics meet Camshaft's, and I managed to catch something of a sly grin before I lost him from view.

So our delayed reception had been planned. Then I warned myself not to jump to conclusions. It is a flaw of mine for which Ultra Magnus often reprimands me. I looked to see what he made of the chaos before him, but he was taller than me and was staring at Wheeljack. Wheeljack finally had the grace to meet his optics. "You are Wheeljack?" Ultra Magnus asked carefully. Wheeljack grinned. "Yup."

"Yes, sir." Ultra Magnus corrected sternly. He does it patiently the first three times, and after that, if you don't call him Sir, he gets very, very irritated. I had the feeling that from now on, Wheeljack would deliberately abstain from it just to spite him. "Where had you gone, soldier?"

"On a mission. To investigate some rumors about traitors in Protihex. We found nothing, of course."

"We found nothing, sir." My commander corrected yet again. Wheeljack continued, unheeding, "Grit here is going to write a status report and send it to Optimus." A tall brown and yellow mech looked around briefly on hearing his name called , then turned back to talk once more. Indiscipline, huh?

Magnus gritted his dentas. "I am now your commanding officer." He said loudly and sharply. "You will address me as 'Sir'." The chatter in the room died out. "You will now report directly to me. I will report to Optimus Prime. Use his title and give him the respect he deserves!" The room went deathly quiet. I saw angry looks on many faceplates, but nobot spoke out. He was their commanding officer. He had takenover their unit. If they did retort, it could be reported and they would be punished for insubordination. In the end, these mechs were soldiers. They knew the rules, in their sparks. Order prevailed – at least for now.

He looked to me, unsure of the impact he'd made. I nodded discreetly. You see, I am not just my commander's lieutenant, but also his voice. Without me, Ultra Magnus flounders in social situations. It's not his fault. It's a part of his nature. He can't help it. But that doesn't help other mechs who are trying to understand him. So I have unofficial leave to put in a word whenever needed in such a situation. It's an unspoken pact between the two of us, evolved from stellar cycles of friendship and fighting side by side.

I sighed and focused on Wheeljack. Wheeljack was, predictably, in a rage. I examined his faceplate closely and saw more than just fury. Ultra Magnus just put him in his place in front of everybot. That doesn't make a good impression – especially if you're going to lead all of them out into battle – no matter what the situation. I saw disgust form from humiliation and hints of a deeper problem : insecurity. I could understand it easily, looking at the fourteen remaining chairs at the long table.

Wheeljack opened and closed his mouth several times, as if he wanted to say something smart, but wasn't sure exactly what to say. Ultra Magnus ignored him and continued to speak, now lowering his voice. "I am Ultra Magnus. I have now taken up command of this unit as per the orders of Optimus Prime. My job is to guide you back to the route of discipline. And this," He said, gesturing at me, "Is Roll Up, my lieutenant. Roll Up and Wheeljack, you both will now be joint second-in-commands of this team." Fourteen Wreckers stared at me incredulously. They didn't believe I was capable of flipping a switch, let alone fight. "Her?" One of them asked skeptically.

"Yes." Said Ultra Magnus firmly. I kept my face stoic and silent, as I had learned that this was the best thing to do in such situations. "You will respect her as you would any other mech." There was an intense round of muttering. Magnus now addressed Wheeljack."Did you do any strenuous physical activity on your last mission?"

"No, sir." He put as much venom into the word as he could. I sighed mentally yet again . This was not going to end well.

"Well, then, do you have any other mission on the roster?" He looked to Grit. Grit blinked. "Uh, an investigation into a tunnel about 23 klicks north of Iacon is next. Sir."

"In that case, Camshaft, fire up the groundbridge." Camshaft looked at him blankly. He hadn't heard, of course. "Er, sir, you should probably give him orders through his comm. link." I suggested. This earned several snickers. My commander silenced them with a stern look. "Very well." He did so.

Camshaft lumbered over to the groundbridge, looked at a small pad that Grit handed over to him, input the coordinates and pulled down the lever. "Here goes." He muttered. The bridge flared to life : a magnificent mass of color and light. Ultra Magnus looked through the Wreckers and selected five to go with him – Wheeljack, and some mechs whose names I learned later – Brunt, Seaspray, Thundergrill and Impactor. He also assigned me to look over the roster with Grit. However, Grit said that there were no more tasks for the solar cycle.

So I decided to assign everybot else to patrol. The hangar was close to the border of Autobot territory and 'Cons are known for finding weak links in walls and burrowing through, hiding in secret until they find an opportunity to launch a guerrilla-style attack. The only solution to this was constant patrolling. I asked whether anybot was on patrol and was shocked by a 'no'.

I asked them whether they didn't come across any concealed Decepticon hideouts and was amazed that the answer to this question was also a no. "They ain't coming back after what we did to the last one." asserted a 'Bot named Rotorstorm. This triggered a lot of laughter, as though I had stumbled upon some private joke. "And Wheeljack's never bothered since we're short on 'Bots anyway. You've got loads to learn here, femme."

Nevertheless, I made four pairs of 'Bots and gave each a quarter of the area to patrol. I would have liked to have had some more mechs to assign, but there were only ten of us in total and it's standard protocol to have at least two 'Bots at base. Camshaft turned out to have a sparktwin called Crankshaft and those two were left back at base. I assigned Rotorstorm to Blusterbomb, Bluesteel to Roadbuster, Sandblaster to Rivet and myself to Rollick.

Yep, this is going to be fun, I thought sarcastically. Sexist jokes, here I come.

To my great surprise, patrol went smoothly – for us both, at least – and like Rotorstorm said, there were no signs of Decepticon activity. Rollick seemed to be one of the calmer Wreckers. He had obvious disdain for me in the beginning, but I proved that I could keep up with him well enough, and he let it go.

We passed the shed where Ultra Magnus and I had sheltered and I asked him about it. He said that nobot ever bothered with it since it was full of junk and outdated equipment. And anyway, most of it had probably rusted. I disliked this attitude. One must attempt to use everything as far as possible, especially since material was scarce due to the war. I resolved to speak about it to Ultra Magnus .

In any case, we returned to the base at around the end of the solar cycle. They sky was fully dark and the air must have been horribly cold, but I couldn't tell because I was warm from all the exercise. We were the third patrol team to pull in. The fourth was on its way back to the base. None had encountered any 'Cons so far.

But Ultra Magnus and the others still hadn't returned. Camshaft informed me that there was no way to track their progress, since they were well underground and hence unreadable, but we would know when they reappeared overground. I nodded and dismissed him to take an energon break, taking up monitor duty myself. I quickly organized a patrol and monitor schedule in my processor. This base would be back in order before the Wreckers ever noticed it, I decided.

As I watched the fourth and last patrol team roll in, I suddenly noticed the Wreckers' signals pop back up on the main screen. In a few minutes, Wheeljack's angry voice came through."We need a groundbridge."

I raised an optic ridge at his tone, but said, "Coming through." and pulled the lever. I wondered what could have gone wrong as the groundbridge came to life. Ultra Magnus is not bad, nor evil. He's not even especially unlikable – he's just doing his job. So Wheeljack shouldn't have had a problem. All of this changes if he was determined to hate him, of course.

Which he probably was.

I watched them all come to the bridge. Wheeljack stormed through, his strides heavy and angry. He stomped away into the corridor. Thundergrill, Brunt, Seaspray and Impactor followed, though at a much slower pace. I could see them talking in subdued voices, but I couldn't hear what they were saying.

Ultra Magnus came through last. He had a frown on his face. I looked at him quizzically, but he shook his head. He was going to try and deal with it himself, even though I could easily see that it had gone out of his control. I pointed this out. He sighed. "Wheeljack tried to use a grenade in a confined space – without permission. It knocked all of us out except Impactor. Anyway, the end result was that the fugitives got away."

I sighed, too. "Should I ask Camshaft to talk to him?" I ventured. Ultra Magnus thought about it, then nodded. "Very well. Now give me a report of the solar cycle's activities, soldier."

I stood up a little straighter and reported fully and in detail about patrol and sent him the schedule I had made over the comm. link. I also informed him about the shed of discarded tools. "I don't know what we can do with them here," He admitted, "But maybe we can send them to Iacon or Protihex and see if anybot can make something of them." I nodded and he clapped a servo on my back. "I shall be going to recharge, then. I'll send the schedules to all the 'Bots." He offered. I smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, lieutenant." He walked away. Almost immediately, Camshaft bustled through the corridor. He ran up to me. His stance was aggressive. I instantly grew suspicious."I'm done refueling." He announced. "So?"

"So move over. I've got to do some, ah, calibrations."

I narrowed my optic ridges. "What kind of calibrations?" He made a face. "Engineering-related stuff. You wouldn't understand it, femme. Now clear off." It was clear that he was going to do anything but calibrations.

I calculated. If I was adamant right now, he'd just take over from the next bot after my shift ended. He would execute his plan, whatever it was, and I would be powerless to stop him. On the other hand, if I let him carry out his 'work', I could figure out what it was and end this skulduggery once and for all. Nip it in the bud before it grew too big.

I settled for the latter and moved away, into the corridor. I saw Wheeljack hurrying past me. Ah-ha. So that's what that little shadow in the hallway had been waiting for. I crept back into the main room. Both the Wreckers were busy talking and they didn't notice me hide behind a large brown crate. It was made of a fine, strong mesh that blended easily with my frame, enabling me to see without being seen.

"Turning off in three... two... one... " Camshaft pressed a few keys on the control pad. And... Nothing happened. I felt confused. What had he turned off?

"Thanks for that final favor, old friend." Wheeljack said sincerely. Camshaft grunted. "Now go. Nobot should suspect that you were involved." Now it was clear that Wheeljack was the main culprit. Camshaft was just an accomplice. But I still had no idea about what they were planning.

Camshaft nodded. He gave Wheeljack one last look, as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't quite make up his mind about it. Then he moved away into the hallway and was soon out of sight. Wheeljack watched him go. I decided that it was best that I confront him now itself.

While he was thus distracted, I slid out from behind the crate and positioned myself right behind him. In a few seconds he turned around only to see me, and jumped about a meter into the air in surprise. "What're ya doing here?" He demanded in an alarmed voice. I'd caught him off his guard. "Doesn't matter to you. What are you and Camshaft planning?" To my great surprise, he began to laugh. "What we are planning," He said, between laughs, "Is my desertion."

"Coward." I snarled. This angered him and he moved away. I adopted a fighting stance, anticipating him. "Move, or I'll cut through ya like a diamond through metal."

"In your dreams."

He attacked and lunged towards me. Oh, he'd made the classic mistake of underestimating a femme. I sidestepped him and kicked him in the side. His momentum worked against him and he sprawled onto the ground. All too easy. In an effort to save face, he rolled around. I planted a pede on his chest and put a blade to his neck.

"All you mechs are the same." I noted. "You think you're so good just because you're physically strong." I narrowed my optics and looked into his. "I could kill you right now for attempt to desertion, and Autobot law wouldn't have a thing to say about it. Coward." (Technically speaking, Autobot law only allows for killing if all other alternatives have been exhausted. But I overlooked it at the time, and apparently so did he.)

"You don't have the guts." He asserted. "Oh, really? Look who's talking about guts."

This made him suitably angry. "I'm not running because I'm afraid of 'Con fire!" Time to get the truth out of him. "Then what pushed you to desertion, soldier?"

I made the mistake of relaxing for a second. Wheeljack, a seasoned warrior, immediately saw the opportunity and pulled my leg so that I was caught off balance. I fell heavily. He pushed himself up and I rose as well and put a digit to my comm. link, activating it. I needed help for this. That would make it much easier to take him down. I tried to get through to Ultra Magnus.

Nothing. No sound, not even static. Wheeljack laughed at my expression. "Didn't you figure it out by now?" He taunted. "Camshaft turned all the comm. links off. That includes yours and Magnus', because you contacted one of the Wreckers' comm. links at some point or the other."

"Not me." I corrected. "I never did. My comm. is still active."

"So? It's still useless without anybot to connect to." He grinned. "Not so smart now, are you? By the time you go in and get reinforcements, I'll be long gone." I realized that what he was saying was true. Last time, he hadn't been expecting me to fight, and fight well. Now, I'd lost the advantage. I could try, maybe even succeed in taking him down, but I now realized that it wouldn't solve Wheeljack's problems. It would probably make them worse. Still, I had one weapon left, one that he wouldn't be expecting me to use.

His own guilt.

He turned to leave. I repeated my question from earlier, knowing that it would be enough. "You still haven't answered my question. What pushed you to desertion, soldier?"

He turned and gave me a long, searching look. I stared back at him steadily, making it clear that I expected an answer. He sighed.

"I'm sick of it." He answered hoarsely. "Sick of being used. You have no idea what it's like." He continued, "You were never part of the Wreckers, you wouldn't understand. In many battles our 'Bots were literally used as cannon fodder. There were seventy-nine of us in the beginning. Seventy-nine. And look at us now." He laughed : a sad, broken sound. "The 'Cons must have been saying : Sixty down, nineteen to go. And then Optimus Prime picked out some of our best members! Crippling a team that had already been crippled!"

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. "And now I've had enough. You're the last line of defense, they said. Bah! We were all too often the only line of defense! I can't count the number of missions we went on that were suicide. 'Cause it was never really about the war, was it? It's not about freedom. It's not about honor. It's all a power game, played out between Optimus Prime and that wretch, Megatron! We're just the little pawns that they sacrifice. And when the going gets tough, they hightail it! Well, now, I'm going. It's not worth it."

His voice shook. "It's not worth it to see 'em all die. If it happens now, I won't be a witness, at least. I'll get out of this madness, and find a way to live with myself. I will."

I looked at him sternly, though not unkindly. "Wheeljack, I know what it's like to be used-"

"And you!" He grinned at me, and for the first time, I saw a hint of something more than just desperation – a hint of madness. "You're the biggest joke of all." I narrowed my optics, not understanding his meaning. "I read your file. You went on a mission in Vos. Something happened. It all went wrong; you lost nineteen out of twenty-three warriors." I winced as I remembered that horrible night, that burning, searing explosion, seeing my charred, burnt off servo lying on the ground beside me, realizing that I was lucky to even be alive... I shuddered.

"Vos fell. The higher-ups decided your team wasn't productive enough. So they cut it up, gave you all the blame and sent the Commander and his Lieutenant here. To the Wreckers. To the suicide team."

In my spark, I knew that what he was saying was true. I vented deeply. "Wheeljack-"

"Actually, why don't you come with me? Come, run. You're a smart femme. This team is Pit-bound, and you know it." I sighed. "No. Wheeljack, listen to me-"

"What? What can you say that'll make it different? What's left to say?"

I vented deeply again. "Wheeljack, I can't make it different. Nobot can. But I can tell you that they are doing what they think is necessary."

'So you'll go along with them? Even when you know they're going to the Pit?"

"No. Wheeljack, I know what it means to be used. I know how... degrading... hopeless... difficult it is." I paused, unsure of whether to tell him of this or not. Few bots know about my past. But I forged ahead anyway.

"I was sparked in a little town called Shifter's Spire. I don't think you'll have heard of it."

"I have." He said suddenly. "The place where seventy percent of Cybertronian Shifters are sparked. What does that have to do with anything?"

I glared at him. "Listen! All the shifters made it valuable. The 'Cons attacked. They caught me and a couple of others. The rest of the town burned down. When they found out that none of us were shifters and that all of them had burned in the destruction of Shifter's Spire, they trained us to be 'Cons for a few groons. Promised us a great future. All of us were younglings – we believed them. But it turned out that they had other plans.

"They gave us to the Autobots in exchange for territory. They lied to them and told the 'Bots that we were shifters. And we paid the price.

"The 'Bots first tried playing nice with us. When we didn't do what they asked us to, they used... more... harsh methods." His gaze was first surprised, then pitying. I looked away. "When they finally realized that we couldn't shift, they still continued. They just wanted to make some 'Cons feel some pain. Eventually the higher command figured out was going on and put a stop to it. But by the time that happened, four of us had offlined, out of us seven." He moved forward. I watched him, unsure. As I had said , very few 'Bots knew of my past. They were all bots who I could trust : Ultra Magnus, my old mentor, Trial (now dead) and the old medic who'd treated me and the others. But I felt unsure about Wheeljack.

"What I'm trying to tell you, is that I learned the hard way that a 'Bot makes his own prison. And his own freedom. If you think that you're free, you are. And I know I am. If I think that something isn't right, I won't do it. But if I think that it's right, I'll pour my spark into it. Do you think that the Autobot cause is right?"

Wheeljack looked at me heavily. I could see him mulling over what I had said. Finally, he said, "I think that it is right. Or at least, I think that it was. We need change. I understand that, and I believe it too. But I think that this is the wrong way to achieve it."

"Then what do we do?" I asked rhetorically. "We just allow Megatron to take over everything? This is war, Wheeljack. If we don't do something, Megatron will take over. Cybertron will burn."

"Cybertron's burning anyway." He muttered. He slumped, hopeless and dejected. I sighed. He looked up. "And if it's going to burn, I'm going to burn with it. But not here, where every other week, I'm forced to see my teammates offline fighting useless battles."

I could see that nothing that I could say would change his mind. Still, I tried to appeal to his reason. "Where will you go?" I asked him. "What will you do? Become a 'Con?"

"No." He made a face. "A neutral?" He shook his head. "I 'll go lone cyber-dog and fight the 'Cons in my own way." He sighed. He seemed weary, but he'd made his processor up about the matter.

"That won't be effective."

"I don't care."

"As an Autobot, it's my duty to try to stop you." I got into a fighting stance reluctantly. To tell you the truth, I didn't want to fight him. Even if I did defeat him, it wouldn't be enough to deter him from his path. He'd just find another way to get out. He was too disillusioned, too tired. Maybe he'd learn, one solar cycle. But he'd have to do it himself.

I remembered my own youngling days. Trial had literally had to hammer things into my head, so much so that others had others had started calling him Trial-And-Error. But he'd kept his patience. He'd taught me well; put a broken, scarred youngling back together again.

Wheeljack wasn't a youngling. There was no way to hammer things into his helm. He'd have to find his own path.

"I respect that." He pulled out his katanas. We circled each other carefully, watching for an opening. "I'm sorry you were tortured." I was familiar with this technique. He was merely trying to unbalance me. "It's alright." I said coolly.

"No, I mean it." He stood up straight and said it sincerely. So I straightened, too. "Sorry enough to come back?" I asked wryly. He smiled. "No, not that sorry."

He rushed for me. I was prepared. His katanas and my blades clashed and I felt the vibrations travel up my servo. He pushed, hoping to unbalance me with his strength, but I pull away and let his momentum pull him forward, causing him to stumble. But it turned out to be a feint and he quickly struck out. I move out of the way just in time to feel only a little scratch on my armor. Then came another realization : I'd lost the battle. My objective was to have him down and out on the ground, but his was not the same. His was merely to escape. It was a much simpler task than mine : for he'd outmaneuvered me.

He grinned at me, winked, and transformed. Then he sped off into the night.

In my processor, I wished him luck in his path.

Please review if you can! Tell me whether it was bad, good, disappointing, interesting or anything otherwise.