Transformers is not mine. Sad about it..

Now better, thanks Beta!

So, all thanks goes to ! Khalthar !

Praxus, city of Technology and Culture. Located on the northern hemisphere of Cybertron, it was situated neer to the other big city-states. Iacon, Uraya, and Protihex were located next to Praxus.

Praxus, a wonderful city with peaceful inhabitants. Its crystal gardens were famous around Cybertron. The soft songs and tunes were calming to every listening audio sensor. They would glow differently for every tune and when the Solar- and the Lunarcycle would change. The light would get caught in the crystals, intensifying the glow the crystal gardens called their own.

Praxus, home of more than thousands of Cybertronians which lived and worked there, not only Praxians, because the City was open for everybot. Home of nobles and workers, young and old, femme and mech. Different cultures clashed and mixed together in the living-unit sectors. Nobot minded that, because you could learn something new every cycle.

Praxus had been one of the main targets since the beginning of the civil war on Cybertron. It stood for everything they wanted to change to become the only "race" on Cybertron. The culture dictated peace and live by rules, something that the Decepticons didn`t really like that much. The place as itself was beautiful, the houses and other buildings were structured almost as if they were alive, sentient.

To the utter disbelief that war might soon erupt, the Praxians held a celebration. One that would occur every stellar cycle. Merchants and singers, dancers and artists, acrobats and pleasure-bots filled the city for the "Star raining". Praxus was the only city in which everybot could observe the night time festival. The bots would come together and turn their heads to the endless sky above them. The lights would be turned off, so the only light would be the falling stars as they raced through the atmosphere of Cybertron, never reaching the surface of the metal planet itself. They were dying lights, shining in every color somebot could imagine. Everybot would be silent, savoring the festival with their loved ones or good friends. After the last star would vanish from sight, the lights would be turned on again and the night cycle would be filled with feasting and dancing.

Normally the sparklings and younglings would play around the vast gardens and the filled streets. The adults would watch or indulge in the younglings plays. The oldest bots would chuckle and wait for the younglings to power themselves out, to fall slowly into recharge and then just enjoy the night cycle. Very few bots would work for this time, just enforcers or merchants, thieves and pleasure-bots would have to work.

Like I said, normally this would occur.

But tonight wouldn't be a normal festival night. All that was Praxus, was a broken wire under the Decepticons metal platings.

It was no wonder one of the first waves in the civil war was targeted on Praxus.

No warnings were given.

No signs of an attack.

Just falling bombs and mechs with red optics, which rained down on Praxus like the slightly acidic rain that would normally fall.

Destruction followed the attack, whole housing units vanished in seconds.

Where once was laughter, silence took place.

Where once was life, death was left.

The glowing crystals, shattered.

Sparkling optics, void of life.

Instead of falling stars and laughter there were raining bombs and death that welcomed the lightless city of Praxus.

The city was filled with fleeing bots, wounded mechs and femmes that just wished they hadn't come to the festival. Broken arms and legs, headless bots were deposited in several places. Mechs, warriors with red optics advanced through the streets, shooting at everything that moved and wasn't identified on their HUD's as allies. Dark blue energon flew like rivers down the metal streets, forming puddles or was dropping down off offlined Cybertronians.

A few mechs and femmes tried to fight back, but the attack was overwhelming and they were soon pushed back. Bots with blue optics tried to evacuate the civilians, to shelter and guard the harmed bots, but there were just too few of them. Not enough to try a counterattack.

The Decepticons targeted femmes and sparklings above the mechs, nobody knew why. They captured them alive if they could but more often than one should believe, the captured femmes and sparklings were exterminated.

The youth-sector was one of the first targets in Praxus. The day-cares and the playgrounds were hit hard. Small walls for climbing or small houses for hiding were destroyed in blasts of fire, pits with metal sand were soaked with spilled energon. Creators, which tried to prevent what had happened got blasted to bits in front of their creations optics. But to soon the wails and screams of the young ones died down, either taken to the Decepticons, killed or wounded and left for dead. No building was left unscathed. The crystal gardens were shattered.

It would take just a few cycles for reinforcements to arrive, but for a large number of bots, it was already too late. Sparks were extinguished, lives were lost, loved ones would lay dead in the arms of their mourning mates. Medics were scarce around the battlefield, either dead or heavily guarded by others, but there was just so much to do, they couldn't help everybot.

After 6 whole cycles of day and night, the Autobots regained the territory of Praxus, but not without losses. The city was burning in many places. Buildings were obliterated, walls crumbled and the metal-kind flora was wilted and draught. The survivors were huddled together in camps, seeking for shelter and warmth and other bots. Nobot wanted to be alone any more.

Throughout the next few cycles the Autobots sent out teams of their own to search for other survivors or much needed resources, like cables, energon and medical supplies. The teams would consist of 3 to 4 battle experienced bots.

As he onlined his optics, everything around him came into focus again. His helm ached like he drank too much high grade energon last night. It was dark around him, just a small greenish glow in the air, which showed the slightly shaken up form of an emergency-exit-sign. He was on the ground, one of his arms pinned by a big pile of rubble which also lay on his right leg. Groaning he tried to move the rest of his limbs and vented out harshly as his pinned arm refused to move. The rubble slipped off of him with loud screeching which hurt his still aching helm even more. A huge cloud of metal-dust and small pebbles of metal erupted from the moving pile, covering him for a few moments. Smokescreen coughed up dust and other, slightly bigger particles out of his intakes.

"Fragging Pit… What happened?" he murmured as his optics scanned his surroundings carefully. The still standing walls had a grey to silver color, every 10 steps would be the frame of a door, but most of them lay on the floor, wrecked and hardly recognizable as doors. Tables and berths were lying around in heaps, some of them even showed dark blue, crusted signs of dried energon. The lights were flickering on and off, making it hard for him to see everything clear. He could feel something warm run down his faceplates. His processor started to warm up again as his thoughts got faster and faster, till his memory packages were updated.

The hospital he worked in as a psychiatrist had been attacked!

He had tried to help a few of the other workers, but something had hit his helm as he had tried to get to the emergency exit. He could remember the full floors of medics and mechanics, the nurses and the patients. It was a very busy evening the last cycle, it always was at the night of the festival.

He stared at the small femme in front of him, her optics wide and shining wildly. Her dark green and blue paintjob was dim with grit and coolant liquid. Her servos were intertwined in front of her, as her doorwings twitched slightly with hope and anticipation. Smokescreen shuttered his optics at her and vented his intakes with a heavy sigh. Like a predator on a prowl the small femme took another step to him, nearly brushing his chest with her shoulder. Her small red chevron glinted in the artificial light. Smokescreen sighed again and threw his helm back, his own doorwings slumping in near defeat.

"Please, you have to help us with that! We have all our servos loaded with drunks and other patients! You have a little knowledge yourself, so please, could you look for the ones with minor cuts or lightly drunks? That would be a really sweet thing, please for me?"

"…Sometimes I really hate you, Lightsphere, you know that?" the femme in front of him just grinned at him and shoved a few Datapads in his own servos, she had to have fetched them from her subspace in astroseconds!

"I owe you, you are my favorite mech now in whole Praxus! Your first patient is waiting for you in room 2.39, just too much highgrade, no problem for you, right? I have to go now, I have a long list of bots to work down till shift change. But I am really excited about my first one this time! I am allowed to deliver a sparkling! Can you think of something better for this day? I will get to hold a small sparkling in my own servos!" With that the femme spun around and skipped away, her wings fluttering happily. Smokescreen stared at the pile of Datapads in his arms and sighed again. This was becoming his favorite thing to do as it seems. He moved his pedes to the assigned room, just to his right and opened the door with a push on a button.

He stopped dead in his tracks as the door revealed a cowering mech, his head over a bucket. The sounds were more than just unpleasant as the unknown mech purged his tanks like there would be no coming cycle. Coolant was dripping down the mechs optic and his whole frame was shaking as he mumbled incoherent things between his heaving's.

The optics snapped up onto Smokescreen as the door slipped shut again, leaving him alone with a mech that was easily towering above him. Said mech stared for a few seconds till his shoulders twitched and he all but threw himself into Smokescreen's chestplates. He froze as the unknown and smelling mech embraced him, the bucket rolled around.

"How could he do this to me? HOW? He said that I was the love of his life! We wanted to bond and then… He just walks away from me! In front of everyone, just like that! Oh how could he…" he sobbed and gripped the poor Smokescreen harder, making his backplatings screech in protest.

"Primus… Please give me patience, because with strength I would probably just want to strangle some mechs this time around."

It took some convincing for the unknown mech to let go of him, but after two breems of coaxing the mech laid back on the berth and allowed Smokescreen to clean him up. The shivering mess in front of him never stopped his mumbling and his whining grated on the psychiatrist's nerves. Out of the very edge of his optics he could see out of a window, saw the lights turn off. He patted the, now not so silently sleeping, mech on the helm and turned to leave the room.

But just as he got to the doorframe something shook the whole building and before he could even lift his servo, something came crashing down on his own helm, sending him straight into darkness…

He could feel coolant dwell up in his optics as the last fragment of the memory vanished and disappeared again into the backside of his processor, leaving him on the ground, his leg still pinned down by debris, but his arm free. The Decepticons must have thought that he was permanently offline or just too much work to free and then kill him.

Smokescreen tried to lift himself up on his hands, but his injured arm wouldn't move, it just shot pain impulses into his nervous system, rendering him to groan silently. He was stuck, and he couldn't even move and there was just a slight bit of hope for somebot to rescue him.

He could feel the sparks on his left audio sensor as he tried to online his communicator, but all his sensors could find was a sound of floating static and beeping.

:: Smokescreen to anybot listening! Please, I need help! I am pinned down in the second floor of the Hospital in the youth-sector! Please, I… Somebot there? Hello? ::

He tried again and again on several wavelengths but got no answer to his pleas. With more and more time rushing past him he started to feel dizzy and his optics flickered on and off, just like the light. He must have laid there for more than a few Joors and his hope for somebot to find him was near the pit. With a clank his helm landed down on the floor again, his communicator sparked, his doorwings twitched and he was just a few seconds away from crying as-

:: -creen? Please confirm your position! I repeat. My designation is Wheeljack and I am part of a team of Autobots. We can't hear you perfectly fine, but one of our scouts is on his way to locate you. Smokescreen, please confirm your position! ::

Smokescreen couldn't believe his luck! Primus was looking at him with fond optics.

:: Smokescreen here! I am stuck on the second floor of the Hospital, in the west wing of it. My leg is pinned down by debris and parts of the ceiling. Please, help me… ::

:: Calm down, please. We are not far from your position but the Hospital is in bad condition, it is hard for us to find a way in. Please stay calm, we will find you. You are not alone. Can you see more bots? :: it was hard to miss the slight euphorically undertone in Wheeljack's voice over the communicator. Smokescreen lifted his helm again, staring along the walls and broken down doors. He could just see rubble and parts of beds but nothing that would belong to any other bot. His spark ached as he lowered his helm again to the floor, where a puddle of his own energon had built itself.

:: I can't see anybot. I can't hear them either. It is so quiet… I think most of the patients on this floor are permanently offline. I can see crusted energon but nothing more. ::

:: Stay calm, Smokescreen. We have found a way in without further demolishing the structure of the Hospital. Our Scout has your life signal on his HUD, he should be there soon. He is a green mech, so don't fret when you see him. We are on our way. ::

Smokescreen wiped away some of the coolant from his optics and he could feel his doorwings twitch again. He would be free soon and then he would get out of here! He just hoped that the mysterious Wheeljack belonged to the Autobots and that this whole situation wasn't merely a trap from the Decepticons. It was silent for about six Klikks but then his audio receptors confirmed a sound ahead of him. With slow movements he lifted his head, peeking in the way his sensors indicated. At first he thought it was just some debris or rubble that had got loose, but after a few straining seconds a figure moved around the corner, green armor glinted in the flickering lights, and the mech had a weapon drawn.

Smokescreen coughed and the figure froze, the weapon pointed in his direction, but soon the tense mech draw nearer and Smokescreen could the blue optics of an Autobot. He relaxed a little and his helm felt heavier than normal, but before his helm could hit the ground, gentle servos caught him and set him down again.

"Is your designation Smokescreen?" the mech's voice was deep and reassuring and all Smokescreen could do was nod.

"I will get you out of here, don't worry. My designation is Hound, I am a scout for the Autobots. My team will be here soon but they have to take another way, some of the floors I scouted were unsafe to step on. Now I need you to lay still and I will lift the metal plates from your leg." With this words Hound stood again and focused his optics on the task ahead. A door, or what was left of it, was laying on the Praxian's leg, rendering him helpless. Energon dripped from the mechs helm, coating his side and making it slippery.

It took Hound just about a few seconds to lift the door off of the Praxian, who started to crawl with one arm and one leg from under the pile of rubble. As soon as Hound saw that the small Praxian was in the clear he let go of the rubble and took a few steps to Smokescreen, kneeled in front of him and let his optics wander over the damaged frame.

:: Hound to Jolt. He is damaged. Energon is leaking from his helm, his communicator is sparking every few seconds, one of his legs looks like it got mangled by a heavy cybercat and one of his arms is not responding and also leaking energon. Where are you and what should I do? ::

:: Jolt here, I understand. We are currently on the first floor, scavenging material and resources that we could need. Due to Ironhide's and Wheeljack's massive weight we won't be able to get to you. You have to bring Smokescreen to us. I would say we should meet up in the emergency medbay on the ground floor. ::

:: Affirmative Jolt. ::

"`Hide? Did Jolt just called us fat?"Hound couldn't help but smile as he heard the question just before Jolt closed his side of the communication. Still smirking he turned to the small Praxian, who's optics were flickering. Without haste he grabbed the mech and lifted him onto his arms, minding the leg and arm. The ground beneath him groaned and he could feel pebbles and plates get loose under his pedes.

"Don't worry. I will carry you to the medbay on the ground floor, there we will meet up with the rest of my team. We will take care of you." Smokescreen could only nod and tried not to wiggle too much in the hold of the green mech. His doorwings were slightly cramped but that was a small price to pay for safety and freedom.

"Did… Did you find another survivor? Here in the Hospital I mean?" Smokescreen dared to ask as Hound carried him over debris and holes, down the corridor and to the stairs which would lead down to the other floors.

Hound stared down on the mech in his arms, still walking, and the look in his optics showed more than enough that they hadn't found somebot else. Smokescreen could feel again the coolant invading his optics. With a small groan he let his helm fall against the green mechs shoulder, hiding himself from the world around him. No other survivors, his friends offline, on their way to the well of sparks. In his own small world his processor showed him pictures and scenes with his friends and family. Mechs and femmes switched places in his vision, smiles and frowns turned to him, whispered words entered his audios, but deep down he knew that that was a way for his processor to cope with the recent events.

Hound felt the mech in his arms go limp on his way down, he carefully picked the places where he placed his pedes. The staircase showed more holes than a piece of metal that had been eaten by a scraplet. It took him over a Breem to get down to the ground floor, where the signs of the attack where the most obvious. He had to step over several carcasses and severed limbs, the faint paintjobs of offlined bots imprinted themselves into his memory drive. He consulted his HUD and pinged his three team mates an update to his location as the mech in his arms started struggling and his good servo grabbed a doorframe Hound was going to pass. Hound stopped and scanned the room beside him, it was one of the emergency medbays. Energon was splattered over the floor and berths and he could see 3 different bots inside, all of them offline. His line of sight was nearly blocked by pieces of fallen ceiling or destroyed berths and trolleys.

Hound sighed and tried to move again but Smokescreens hold of the doorframe wouldn't budge. The optics of the Praxian got a begging glint into them as he stared at the only femme in the room.

"Smokescreen?"

Smokescreen had finally come to his senses as he caught a glimpse of a blue and green paintjob on a small Praxian femme. His hand had shot out to grab firmly onto the frame of a large door. His processor loaded a memory file, obscuring his view of his dear friend. Without thinking he started to struggle, his parental subroutines came online themselves as he tried to escape the other mech's hold.

"I owe you, you are my favorite mech now in whole Praxus!" His grip tightened again and out of his mouth came keening sounds, desperate to get down.

"Your first patient is waiting for you in room 2.39, just too much highgrade, no problem for you, right? I have to go now, I have a long list of bots to work down till shift change." He succeeded in getting down, his injured leg forgotten as he slumped to his knees and crawled forward into the room, oblivious to the mech who tried to hold him back. His doorwings were twitching in anticipation.

"But I am really excited about my first this time! I am allowed to deliver a sparkling! Can you think of something better for this day?" He crawled through small corridors open in all this garbage, unseeing of the energon and other fluids that soon coated his frame. All he could see and focus on were the three bots in front of him, just a few steps ahead. Two of them were mechs, one cradled the other against his chestplates. Both were nearly the same height, but they had different frametypes.

The one who cradled the other was sitting on the ground, his sparkchamber was shot out and his helm was only half there. The other mech didn't show any signs of damage other than a stream of energon and another, slightly silvery fluid from his open interface panel and a hole through his abdomen.

The femme laid on the ground, curled into a tight ball, her servos cupped together and coated in the silvery fluid. Her, once bright, optics were offline and her doorwings were ripped out. Her back faced the entrance. Smokescreen trembled as he laid his servo on her frame, gently turning her body around so that he could get a better look at her servos. He hadn't noticed that Hound had slowly followed him, after contacting his teammates, which made their way over to them.

Smokescreen softly pried the servos of his old, but now offline, friend open, just two digits at first and froze. What if he could be wrong? What if his hopes were crushed, what if…

"Smokescreen, let me help you." He could hear the concerned tone in Hound's voice and nodded his helm. He let go of Lightsphere's servo and instead grabbed her arms to hold the servos up for Hound.

"I will get to hold a small sparkling in my own servos!"

Hound, with a gentleness and a soft impression in his optics Smokescreen nearly couldn't handle, engulfed the small femmes servos with his own. Instantly his small scanners in his digits screamed at him that they found a small working spark, but the femme was definitely offline! He froze for an astrosecond before he pried another digit off and got his optic nearer to the small servos.

:: JOLT! HURRY UP! WE HAVE ANOTHER SURVIVOR! ::

Hurried steps neared their location as Hound was able to take the small being from the femme into his own, much larger servos. He could feel it shiver and small sparks ghosted over his servos. Smokescreen was at his side, coolant dripping from his optics, again, as he cradled the femme to his body.

Jolt, Ironhide and Wheeljack tore around a corner, freezing at the sight in front of them. Hound lifted his optics to them and opened his cupped servos for a second. A second that nearly lead to two glitching processors and a blur of blue as Jolt all but jumped to the green scout's side and commanded his own temperature to rise. Hound gently let go of the small Sparkling in his hold and Jolt covered it with his warmer servos.

:: Jolt to Base. Prepare medbay for one injured mech. And prepare a sparkling chamber! We found a newborn sparkling! Need sparkling-energon and treatment! ETA in three and a half breem! ::

So that was the now better Chapter 1 of this story. Will reupload the rest part by part.

See ya in the next!