Wreck and Rule

A Transformers: Armada Story

By William Rendfeld

It had been a long time since he'd seen it. Almost long enough to have forgotten what it looked like. He'd seen them elsewhere of course, on another world and other places, from different vantage points and different positions, but there was something special about looking up into the evening sky and watching this simple little thing.

A sunset over Iacon.

Everything was just right; the winds lightly buffeting his face, the light shining down upon his yellow and crème armor, even the low level of sound from the nearby streets of the massive city. This was what Sparkplug missed most about his homeworld...and what made him most glad to be home. And knowing his luck, it'd be something he'd rarely enjoy.

But such was life.

His optics came online, and the Mini-Con 'leader' turned. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long. I just didn't want to interrupt you." The visitor stepped forward on his silvery-grey legs as he continued, "Besides, you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"I was." A heavy sigh. "But the world can't stop turning for anyone, can it?"

"Not last I checked. If it could, we'd both have some proper time for ourselves. Speaking of, something for you." The Mini-Con produced a computer pad. "No rest for the leaders."

Sparkplug groaned as he took hold of the pad, reading over the display. "Why me Over-Run? Anti-Blaze and Leader-1 are the politicians, you and Safeguard are the mystics, Wreckage is the military leader...they're more qualified than I am."

"You know as well as I do that mystic connections to the Matrix and Vector Prime can only get you so far, and that military thinking or political savvy can only help you so much. You need a mix of all three to be an effective leader. Besides, from what I've seen, you've done a good job."

"That was on Earth. Cybertron's another matter." Sparkplug gave the pad another glance, optic ridges furrowing. "They really want to do this?"

The Mini-Con sage shrugged. "I don't see much reason for Divebomb's team to not assist Checkpoint's unit. Besides, if they change their mind, we can transfer them back to Earth without much trouble. Not like Scavenger and Anti-Blaze won't mind; they've been good for public relations there with rescue efforts and such."

"That's the problem; after all that excitement, they might just get bored around here." Sparkplug keyed in an approval stamp and handed it back to his fellow Mini-Con. "Still, it can't hurt to give them a trial run. Besides, they're probably as homesick as the rest of us."

"I wouldn't let Comettor hear that." Over-Run took the pad. "Still, you're right; it is nice to come home."

Over-Run placed the pad in a small compartment in his back, then transformed, flying off into the distance. Sparkplug watched him go before turning back, the sun having dipped beneath the horizon. He sighed; he'd missed it, all thanks to his politics.

"I hope Optimus is having as much fun as I am," the Mini-Con muttered sarcastically.

"Did he get away with anything?"

"Fortunately, no. All Terrorsaur took with him were odds and ends that we've talked about; nothing encrypted, nothing sensitive. But it's likely that Galvatron now knows about our efforts to find the last Artifacts." The holographic avatar of Scavenger shook its head. "I'm sorry Optimus."

"Don't be, old friend." The Autobot leader took on a soothing tone. "You did your best."

"Besides, we still know more than Galvatron does anyway; not like it's a total loss." One thing about Jetfire, he always helped to lighten the mood. "Have you told the advisory council yet?"

"Yes, and they've decided to reconsider our old suggestion about orbital defenses." The holo-avatar groaned as it admitted, "But even if they bring it up with the UN, we'll still have people speak out against it."

"Senator Beller." Optimus Prime's tone was carefully neutral as he gave that name. His deputy commander wasn't so restrained, giving out a contemptuous snort. "Doesn't matter that it'll do the same thing that their proposed missile defense shield will or that it'll help to hold off meteor strikes; it's associated with us, and she'll vote against allowing it even if it costs her career."

"Let us worry about that Optimus; there are still ninety-nine more senators who might back it." With a slightly more pleasant smile, he reported, "Besides, I've got some good news. Evac's managed to get Atlantis's computer records up. With any luck, we can calculate courses for Mu and Lemuria from there and finally get something done on finding the last three artifacts."

"Perfect timing," Jetfire laughed. "We're already picking search teams. By the time you get that info to us, we'll be ready to send 'em out."

"And hopefully without any unexpected surprises; after all the insanity we've dealt with on Earth, we'll probably have worse problems with the other planets."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes." Optimus gave a curt nod. "Send us the data when you can Scavenger. In the meantime, keep safe."

"And tell Wire he's doing a good job for me," Jetfire chipped in.

"Will do," Scavenger answered. A nano-klik later, his image vanished.

Optimus Prime, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, then turned to his second in command. "If Galvatron knows about the keys, more than likely he'll try to drum up some help from the remnants of his forces here on Cybertron. Has Bumblebee had any luck finding them?"

"A few leads here and there, but nothing solid. As soon as he gets anything though, he'll pipe it in to Magnus, and the Wreckers'll head after them." A bit of uneasiness seeping into his voice, the air commander added, "With Terrablast in charge of them, I think that'd be the smart thing."

Optimus gravely nodded. "Has Starscream had any luck interrogating Flamewar?"

"If he had, he'd have told you first. Personally, I don't think she'll sing anytime soon; doesn't matter to her that Tankor and Obsidian pretty much left her out to be caught, just that Galvatron's still out there. She believes in him and his cause, so much as it is. No chance of that changing much."

Optimus cast an optic towards his brother. "We can always hope."

Wreckage hated it...hated every nano-klik of it, hated every moment of the silence, the long battle of wills between the prisoner and the politician, the assassin and her former target...Flamewar and Starscream.

Every day, the Decepticon leader would come to the stasis hold, park himself directly across from Flamewar's module, lean against the wall with his arms crossed, and train deep blue optics on those of his prisoner. His expression was neutral, never moving, never speaking; she in turn betrayed little more than intense anger toward the Decepticon she'd previously attempted to scrap.

Sometimes he would come as escort to the Decepticon leader and watch, hoping that something would happen. Sometimes another of Starscream's advisors would go; Skywarp and Brawl had both had turns. Now it was Wreckage's again...and he was not at all amused.

The heavily armored Decepticon stretched his shoulders and was about to approach his leader when the prisoner finally broke her silence. "Why do you keep coming?"

As amazed as Wreckage was to hear her finally speak, he was just as surprised by his leader's answer. "Why ask a question to which you already know the answer?"

The femme scoffed. "Please; you want me to betray my brothers-in-arms, cast aside my loyalties to my true leader and aid you, the ancient Pretender. No thanks, not interested."

Wreckage barely stifled a growl and just as scarcely kept himself from extending his Energon blades. She was one to talk. It was Megatron, or Galvatron or whatever the slag he preferred to call himself, who'd betrayed and slain Jhiaxus long ago; it was his allies that had killed Straxus and the Council. He may not have been fond of Starscream, but the mech was the closest thing the Decepticons had to a rightful heir. If anyone was the 'Pretender', it was her beloved idol.

Starscream, for his part, merely shrugged. "Fine then. I'll take my leave." Without another word, he stood upright and exited the hold. Flamewar's optics followed him before her holographic avatar deactivated, while Wreckage followed his leader in turn.

"Still don't see why we're keeping her locked up like that," the armored personnel carrier growled. "Last I checked, she was guilty of a little thing the law books call 'high treason', and I don't know about you, but the Earthlings tend to have a good policy concerning stuff like that."

"The humans have another saying; 'dead men tell no tales'," Starscream corrected him, carefully turning his head to his advisor. "I appreciate your zeal to avenge Straxus, but I'd rather she chose to work with us rather than remain against us. If I'd done what you suggest with Sharkticon, the Autobots would not have had his insight in finding Astrotrain."

"Yeah, for all the good that's done us." The Decepticon warrior snorted in contempt. "So you gonna come back tomorrow, try it again?"

"Don't need to." With a triumphant smile, the F-22 explained, "I've established that she will talk. Now we send in someone to whom she's more likely to listen than me."

"Sounds like you've got someone in mind."

"I do indeed." Before Starscream could elaborate, his communicator chirped. "Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt your visit with the lady friend, but we've got ourselves a lead," Skywarp's voice answered. "An Autobot Intelligence agent's just caught sight of Dreadwind and Smokejumper on the outskirts of Kaon. They're asking for your authorization to send in the Wreckers."

"Consider it given. I'm on my way to Command. Keep watch on the situation."

"Always will."

As Skywarp's channel closed, Wreckage stared at his superior. "You sure you want to let an Autobot team go in? These are Decepticons; we should be cleaning our own house, not letting the Autobots mop up our messes."

"If I had enough among us to trust, I'd do so in a nano-klik. Unfortunately, not all Decepticons are as loyal to Jhiaxus's memory as you and Brawl, or as willing to discount Megatron as our friends Demolishor and Sharkticon. Whether we like it or not, the Autobots can get the job done without worrying about their loyalties."

As much as he hated to consider that idea, Wreckage had to admit that Starscream was right. He grunted, but continued to follow his leader as they made their way out of the prison.

Minerva shook her head. "I don't like it."

"I'm not particularly fond of the device myself." Ratchet turned to face their fellow medic. "I'm not saying that this thing didn't get results Red; it did, no question of that. Saved a couple lives, and that goes a long way in my book. But I'm still not fond of this little 'spark-catcher' of yours."

"I never said that we should make it a part of the standard medical package," the lead medic said in his defense. He held up one of his two makeshift spark-catchers from his time on Earth in his free hand as he explained, "I'm just making sure we have them on hand in case it's necessary."

"You're assuming that the hypothetical patient would want something like that plucking out their spark and holding it for a spell." The femme studied the second one uneasily. "If someone ever weaponized these things, no telling what would result. And I've never liked firearms much; I can barely justify my quad-launcher, and that's because I'm limited to flares."

"Everything has its risks. I've spoken with Optimus however. He's given his word that he and Starscream will maintain a level of secrecy with this technology, and its use will be limited to patients in critical condition who specifically request it. Neither of them will weaponize it, and I doubt Galvatron could see much use for it."

"Not unless he suddenly tries to absorb Sparks or something insane like that." Ratchet shuddered. "All the same though, I'd rather these were locked up tight."

The Dodge Magnum nodded. "Agreed. And hopefully, we won't need to use them."

"Of all the jobs that we would end up with, we get this. You know why we're out here, exposed? It's because the others hate me."

"Oh come on, how could they hate you? You've got guns and cannons and all sorts of missiles…you're a walking arsenal! Besides, this is gonna be fun!"

"Until the Autobots see us and turn us into scrap metal."

"That won't happen, I know it won't!"

As Dreadwind groaned at the naïve over-eagerness of his smaller partner, an ebony jet flew a high distance above them, its sensors locked onto the bickering Decepticons.

"Got 'em. They're heading straight for the Sonic Canyons; must have a base near there. Want me to tag 'em?"

"Negative on that Ricochet; Magnus's team is moving in. Monitor from above in case they need you to relay for assistance, but don't engage unless fired upon."

The Autobot saboteur grumbled. "Understood Bumblebee. Keeping distance." Without another word, he extended his wings and slowed as his two marks reached their destination. "Not like I need to prove myself on them anyway. The Wreckers can have all the fun they want."

Tankor growled as he brushed away the loose bits of debris hanging down from the low ceiling above him.

"Something bothering the precious elite?"

The massive Decepticon narrowed his optics as Swindle continued, "You'll have to forgive the conditions; not all of us can be elite spies, hiding out in plain sight like cowards while the rest of us go scurrying about fighting the good fight." The small Decepticon buggy hefted his gun at one end like a club, a tight grip on the barrel. "Almost makes a mech wonder if you can fight."

"Hey, knock it off Swindle." The buggy's twin, Hardtop, was seated nearby, dimly lit by a holoprojector in his hands flashing images from a holo-comic. "He's on our side, remember? No reason to start a fight."

Swindle seethed and stowed his weapon. "Better have some action before too long. I'm going stir crazy, cooped up in this place."

He was interrupted as a set of heavy doors slid open, the familiar emerald and grey pair of Dreadwind and Smokejumper entering, the larger at a slow pace and the smaller much more quickly and eagerly.

"Ah, welcome home."

Heavy footfalls sounded off, heralding the arrival of their leader. Tankor could barely see her without going to night vision thanks to the ebony tank armor on Terrablast's frame; it was only thanks to her much more brightly-colored internal construction that he could make her out in the darkness. A smile that made Tankor uneasy rested on her face, ruby optics making it all the more ominous.

"Report."

Smokejumper eagerly began to rattle off his report. "We did it perfectly Terrablast! We went out, flew low, oh you should've seen us, we-!"

"The Autobots saw us," Dreadwind droned in a depressed tone, interrupting his partner. "They're coming."

Terrablast's smile grew wider. "Perfect." She turned away from the two and walked back the way she came. "Prepare yourselves everyone; company is on its way."

"Yeah, and we all get to scrag 'em nice and proper." Swindle menacingly pulled his weapon back out and swung it hard into his free hand, a manic grin growing on his face.

"And lose a base in the process," Hardtop said gloomily.

Just as the words exited Hardtop's speakers, the coal-armored femme stopped in her tracks. As the other Decepticons watched and Hardtop slowly looked up at her, she turned about leisurely, her optics firmly locked on the Decepticon sniper and her face neutral.

No one so much as made a sound as the two looked at one another, the femme's face entirely neutral and the mech's radiating anxiety tinged with fear. It continued for one nano-klik…two…three…before a small smile crept across Terrablast's face.

Then, in a sudden flash, she whipped out a long grapple line, sending a powerful shock through the small Decepticon's body and ensnaring him in the process. She then reeled Hardtop in like a trout, held him by the chestplate with one hand, and brought him up level with her optics.

"You do not question my plans, Hardtop," the femme purred quietly, her voice low and pleasant but laced with a clear threat. "We have other bases. What matters is that we have one left for our leader to return to. Is that clear?"

Trying his best to not tremble in her grip, Hardtop nodded slowly.

"Good mech."

Terrablast unceremoniously dropped Hardtop to the ground, then turned back to restart her exit. "As I was saying, company is coming. Let us give them a proper welcome."

On the streets of Kaon, they thundered in formation. They were the elite, among the toughest and most feared of the Autobot Special Forces units; eight Autobots, considered the craziest, the coldest, the toughest and the bravest among them. They were the Wreckers.

These eight hadn't always been the roster; of the original team of Wreckers, only the experienced Stockade remained, and the dull gold and crimson Autobot wasn't afraid to make note of that fact. He'd been the only one to survive all this time, many of his former teammates having fallen in battle, first in the Outsider Wars then in the Second Great War. That had all changed when Ultra Magnus assumed personal command of the team, promising himself and Stockade that neither would lose another comrade in battle. Thus far, he'd kept his word, thanks in part to the team's layout.

When he'd taken command, Magnus had made certain to hand-select a team of eight Autobots which would work well together, play to one another's strengths and offset their individual weaknesses. The watchful but easily distracted Fireflight perfectly balanced Swerve's single-mindedness and lack of proper awareness for his surroundings. Air Raid's eagerness for battle was easily countered by Roulette's patience, while the latter's compassion and skill as a sharpshooter often helped to rein in Sunstreaker's cold and merciless attacks and Whirl's often unpredictable frenzies.

It was one of the few things that didn't plague him; his team worked. And with the recent return of the Mini-Cons to Cybertron, things had only improved; Swerve had been properly reunited with his old partner Roadhandler at the Battle of Longs Peak, and Magnus himself with Knock Out soon afterwards. While his subordinate's focus was more than helped by the presence of his partner, Magnus himself had someone else to support him in battle. As much as he hated to think it, he needed all the help he could get.

"Distance to target?" Magnus asked over the team's frequency.

"Only a few more kliks before we arrive. They haven't even cleared out; looks like a trap to me."

"Not hard to figure out that part." Despite his small size and heavy armor, Stockade kept up with Magnus's car carrier mode quite easily. "Terrablast doesn't seem like the type to do the smart thing."

"Don't be so certain of that. I've read her file; she's...unpredictable at best."

The experienced Autobot tank scoffed at his comrade's statement. "I'll predict this for you Swerve; she and her buddies are either getting scrapped or locked up. Either way, it's not going to be pretty for them."

Were Ultra Magnus in robot mode, he'd grin appreciatively at his second's bravado. "Radio silence 'bots, we're going in."

The group slowed as they reached the coordinates where Dreadwind and Smokejumper had vanished. Sunstreaker, Roulette and Swerve disembarked from Magnus's carrier, weapons ready after transforming, Roadhandler and Knock Out disconnecting from Swerve and doing likewise. The remaining Wreckers followed suit, the three fliers among them landing as they did so. As the lone femme among them swept over the area with her optics, her rifle primed and ready, their resident scientist knelt down on the ground and placed one open hand upon it, his black fingers stretched and his own sensors going to work.

After a second, Swerve looked up towards Ultra Magnus and nodded; just as they'd surmised before arrival, they were standing upon some sort of massive hatchway, probably the primary entrance to their quarry's base. If there was indeed a trap, it was high time they sprang it.

Magnus hand signaled Whirl, Air Raid and Fireflight to go skyward, the rest of his team to clear off the hatch. They did so, and the Autobot carrier truck gave one more signal.

Missile rounds and energy bursts fired off from the three fliers' guns, blasting the hatchway to scrap. Without another word, Ultra Magnus stepped forward and jumped into the open passage, his team following behind.

The five ground-based Autobots and two Mini-Cons landed with several heavy thuds, the three fliers much more softly. The Autobot commander once more began scanning the area, his sensors at their most sensitive, but didn't pick up any Decepticon energy readings.

He did, however, take note of a high-pitched beeping sound.

Without another word, he grabbed hold of Knock Out, Roulette and Sunstreaker. Before the golden-armored warrior could protest, Magnus activated his rockets and flew out of the base. Swerve followed close behind, transforming to vehicle mode and Powerlinking with Roadhandler to activate his flight boosters. Whirl, Fireflight and Air Raid did likewise, the blue helicopter carrying Stockade out as he went.

Just as they emerged from their newly-made hole, a massive explosion ripped through the structure, knocking them through the air. Magnus's mass helped him to weather the blast and protect his passengers, while the others recovered swiftly.

"Damn Decepticons – they set explosives," Sunstreaker growled. "That could've warped my exterior!"

"I think we're about to have bigger problems," Roulette warned on instinct.

The Autobot sharpshooter's statement was quickly proven true when a high-velocity burst blasted into Ultra Magnus's back, shorting out his flight jets. The massive Autobot cringed from the blow as he dropped, using the last of his maneuvering jets to turn around. He let go of his Autobot passengers as they transformed and rolled to a safe halt. The Mini-Con remained even as Magnus crashed hard into the elevated road, skidding to a halt as bits of his armor were torn away in the process.

The femme hissed as she recognized the attack and transformed, her rifle primed. "Hardtop."

"The others are nearby." Stockade's energy cannon flipped into position as he began keying in his comm. systems and giving orders. "Everyone keep tight. Roulette, take down that marksmech. Ricochet, we need-!"

A massive blast of wind buffeted the gathered Autobots as Smokejumper flew wildly past, his cannons firing.

"Oh, he's asking for it!" Without so much of a second thought, Air Raid transformed and flew after the swift Decepticon.

Stockade spat out several choice words as the overeager flier blasted away at top speed. "Keep formation, guns ready! If it moves, wreck it!"

Another sniper blast struck, doing little damage to the Autobot tank thanks to his heavy armor. Roulette responded in kind, firing off a shot and getting a cry of pain and an explosion in reply. She smirked in return; no one would outshoot her when she could help it.

A heavy barrage of missiles rained down upon the gathered eight, forcing them to scatter as additional bursts of energy hit their position.

Returning fire, Stockade turned to the Wreckers' two remaining fliers. "Whirl, give these Decepticons something to be scared of! Fireflight, check on Magnus! We'll give you cover fire!"

Whirl gave a nod and a smile, then transformed and flew off, his yellow rotors spinning rapidly. Nano-kliks later the helicopter let out a howl of insane laughter, darting through the barrage and firing off several rounds of his own.

As the Decepticons were distracted, Fireflight slipped back to attend to Magnus; Knock Out was already there.

The Mini-Con at least gave good news. "Light damage; he'll come out of it in a second."

The stealth flier slumped and shook his head thankfully. "Is that...do you hear that?"

A heavy creak and groan built up beneath them, seconds before another explosion tore out the ground beneath them. Fireflight activated his flight systems just in time, but couldn't get to the Mini-Con or his Autobot partner as they began to fall.

The air became very quiet as weapons ceased firing. The remaining Wreckers glanced about, Whirl returning from his air strike and immediately catching notice of the gaping hole in the wrecked highway.

"I...I couldn't..." Fireflight stuttered in surprise as the team's vice commander approached.

"Not your fault kid," was Stockade's only reply to the ivory-armored Autobot before he turned back to his team. "Grapples ready 'bots; we're heading after 'em."

Knock Out struggled to reactivate his optics and slowly adjusted to the darkness around him. He leaned up as a familiar voice asked, "You alright partner?"

The Mini-Con looked up; however tarnished and torn up it was, there was no mistaking that familiar golden Autobot symbol or that voice. His optics soon rested on the familiar smiling face of Ultra Magnus, damaged and with one optic cracked and disabled but very much still online. The massive Autobot's arms were wrapped around him protectively, keeping him close to his chest.

The Mini-Con sighed in relief, a habit picked up from his time on Earth. "A lot better now that you're conscious. Can you move?"

Magnus nodded once, and then moved his hands so that he could sit up. Knock Out jumped to the ground as Magnus got to his feet.

Both falls had taken a heavy toll on the Autobot commander. His two grey wings were crumpled and cracked, and several pits were visible in his blue and white armor. His flight pack was badly damaged by the sniper burst. All that, in addition to the obvious shattered optic, added up to an unpleasant image.

But Ultra Magnus could still stand, and still fight.

The two surveyed their position; they were inside one of the small internal conduits of Cybertron, rarely used or checked upon. There was more than enough room for Magnus to stand, but no way for him to easily climb out.

"My communicator was damaged in the fall, but we shouldn't be too far away from the others." Magnus stepped to one side, moving out from under the hole. "They'll come soon enough; we'll just have to wait and keep our optics-GKH!"

A massive electrical burst raced through Magnus's body, arcs of blue lightning racing over his form. Knock Out stepped back, his guns primed and ready to strike back, but was suddenly slammed hard against one wall, his weapons crushed.

Swindle grinned savagely as Magnus collapsed to the ground. A small chuckle with a mix of mirth and satisfaction sounded out from the darkness as its owner slinked forward.

"The mighty Ultra Magnus, the most inventive and clever Autobot built." Terrablast kicked him onto his back, surveying his frame as he looked up at her with his remaining optic. "They must have broken the mold with you." As Magnus remained silent, she made a 'tsking' sound with her voice capacitor. "Nothing to say? How rude. You could at least beg."

"Do I look like the type to beg?" the Autobot shot back defiantly. "My team won't be long, Terrablast; if I were you, I'd run or surrender. They don't call us 'Wreckers' for nothing."

The small Decepticon buggy snickered as he prodded the unconscious Knock Out with his weapon. "I'd say."

Terrablast laughed, ruby optics leveled on Magnus as if he were her next meal. "Ultra Magnus, do you really think that I fear your troops? Soon enough, Megatron will return and take his rightful place as the ruler of this world. There will be nothing you can do to stop him, and nothing you can do to stop me." She leveled her weapons, the familiar whine of their highest power setting all too clear. "Bye bye."

With those last words, the Decepticon femme opened fire.

Hardtop fumed as he drove down the darkened tunnel, access terminals and protective piping providing him dim light and little company as he mourned his wrecked weapon; it would take him a good while to repair.

A heavy barrage caught his attention, prompting him to turn on his headlights and slow down. He finally stopped to find Swindle and Terrablast standing over a barren hulk of an Autobot.

Hardtop instantly recognized the massive Autobot before him. It was Ultra Magnus, the familiar wound of his own sniper rifle visible on his frame. His armor had been shattered and broken in several places, loose sparks firing off every few seconds and smoke lightly issuing forth from the wounds. Loose bits of oil and mech fluid dripped onto the ground beneath him, slowly gathering into growing puddles.

"Most impressive," the femme mused. "He didn't even scream." She turned away from her handiwork and slunk away, dismissing her victim. "Swindle, Hardtop, come. We've much yet to do."

Without another word, Terrablast transformed back to her massive tank mode and drove off. Swindle gave the heavily damaged Autobot a parting kick in the head, dislodging his blue helm slightly before following suit.

Hardtop slowly drove past the wreck, staring in shock at the accumulated injuries. Deep down, a fragment of his spark told him that he'd been part of this...and as much as he tried to shake it as he sped up and drove away, he couldn't.

The teal dune buggy was too far away to notice as the Wreckers descended and found Magnus's body, shattered and broken, then found Knock Out's crushed form not too far away. He was too far distant as Roulette gasped in shock and Stockade rushed over, Swerve examining both fallen warriors. He didn't hear as the scientist cried out that Magnus and Knock Out were still alive, simply in deep stasis lock and in desperate need of medical attention. He couldn't hear as Stockade issued orders to Whirl and Fireflight, as he radioed Ricochet to call in support for emergency evac.

It didn't matter; the damage was still his fault. Ultra Magnus's mech fluid was on his hands...and he began to wonder how much from how many others were as well.

Elsewhere in the tunnels, far distant from the aftermath of the battle, Tankor trundled along, silently fuming to himself. "Wasteful...pointless. She could have wiped out all of the Wreckers in one fell swoop, but she didn't do so. I doubt she's even verified that Ultra Magnus is permanently offline."

A familiar dark blue twin-rotor helicopter buzzed into position above him. "Strategy and efficiency are a dying art, and Terrablast is hardly a master of either. But there isn't much to be done at this point."

"Are you certain of that Obsidian?" The massive Decepticon tank directed his sensors at his aerial partner. "Whether or not Magnus is offline, the Autobots will most likely prepare a counterstrike, perhaps in greater numbers. In such a case, she would be...distracted."

"A worthy point," the helicopter mused. "Though should we do so? Our resources are rather limited, and she is quite powerful."

"So long as she has her armor and weapons, she has power. Take them away and she has nothing...is nothing. She can be dealt with easily enough. And as pathetic as this batch is, we still have a capable force at our disposal. Get rid of her, and we could truly turn the tide of this war...perhaps even stake a place of our own."

"And betray Megatron?"

"No...simply impress him enough to give us proper places at his side."

Obsidian remained silent for a few short seconds, and then said, "That...sounds like an excellent idea."

The medical ward's doors slid open with a rapid and heavy clank, a hoverpad carrying the unconscious Ultra Magnus being pushed in as the three Autobot medics and four Mini-Con assistants rushed to their patient.

"Multiple armor fractures, high levels of internal injury," Makeshift reported, sweeping over the massive Autobot with his optics. "Spark's stable."

"That's one bit of good news," Red Alert murmured as he activated several instruments, locking them onto Magnus's armor and bringing up readouts on his vitals.

"Where's Knock Out?" Minerva asked as she pulled in medical instruments as Prowl, Firebot and Longarm prepped them for use. It had taken her some time to be accustomed to the more advanced Cybertronian paraphernalia after being so used to what she had on Atlantis, but she persevered as any sworn physician would.

"CR Chamber," Ratchet answered in a clipped tone, his sensors already shifting into medical mode. "His injuries were light compared to this; give him a few cycles and he'll be out safe and sound. But we need to repair these injuries ourselves; otherwise Magnus won't be stable enough to use one."

The three medics and four Mini-Cons then began their work, their instruments alit and their readouts beeping as steadily as a ticking clock.

Jetfire paced uncomfortably while tapping the crook of his elbow, the remaining seven Autobots and one Mini-Con among the Wreckers standing at attention before him in his office. He finally turned to Stockade. "A trap, huh?"

The Autobot tank nodded, damaged armor reflecting light from both the internal fixtures and from outside. None of the Wreckers had bothered to head to the medical bay following their return, due in part to their own minor damage and their commander's greater need of repair. "No one's fault but ours, sir."

"I'm not assigning blame to anyone; you guys got out alive and Magnus is still in one piece. I'm confident Red and the others can patch him up." His narrowed optic band leveled on Air Raid. "However, that doesn't mean all of you are off the hook. You broke off on the others, left your team behind. You going to explain yourself?"

"He was right there!" the small Autobot jet protested. "I could've had him!"

"Doesn't matter," the Autobot Vice Commander spoke flatly. "You're part of a team, Air Raid. You don't go running off on your own like you did back there. Doing that does little more than put a target on your back. Any more of this stuff and you're removed from active duty. Period." He took a moment to recover. "As for the rest of you; we won't know for a while how long Magnus will be out of action, and I won't risk you getting into another trap. Intelligence is keeping an eye out for Terrablast's group, so until we know anything concrete, consider yourselves off-duty. We'll let you guys know if anything comes up." The office's doors slid open. "Dismissed."

Most of the Wreckers filed out, Fireflight lagging behind. The ivory Autobot turned to his commander nervously. "Jetfire, sir..."

"I've already heard everything from Stockade." Jetfire's voice softened. "It wasn't your fault Fireflight. Don't start blaming yourself for what happened to Magnus; if you'd tried to stop him from falling, you'd be in the repair bay with him right now. No one holds it against you." The Air Commander beckoned his fellow jet to exit. "Now go on, get yourself some R n' R."

His face showing some relief, Fireflight exited. Just before the doors closed, a tan and cerulean femme rushed in, a recorder in one hand. "Jetfire, could I have a word?"

"Optimus is the one to interview about these things, Headline, not me," the red and white aerospace fighter protested.

"I've already interviewed Optimus about what happened." The Autobot journalist stored the deactivated recorder in a compartment in one leg. "This is just me being concerned. Magnus and the Wreckers helped me out more times than I can count; I just want to make sure they're okay. All of them."

Jetfire nodded sympathetically. "I understand. Don't worry, they'll be fine. Wouldn't put it past 'em to think about going after the 'Cons themselves, but something tells me they'll restrain themselves. Magnus trained 'em better than that."

Headline gave him an affectionate smirk. "And you've scared them out of the idea most likely."

"Well, not all us commanders are nice guys." Jetfire's optic band glinted merrily and with assurance. "Magnus is gonna be okay. Don't worry about him or his squad."

"Thanks." She turned to go, and then turned back. "One last thing. I heard somewhere that you were putting together teams for off-world missions. Any off-record comments on that?"

"We're just looking for a few loose ends is all, nothing major. We haven't told anyone for security reasons."

"Chasing after Megatron?"

"Can't comment either way."

A shrug. "Alright. But don't expect me to just forget about it."

As Headline exited and the doors closed behind her, Jetfire seated himself on his desk. He laid himself flat upon it, optic band resting at the panoramic window wrapped around him and showing the Iacon skyline. "As if anyone ever does."

"...Ultra Magnus was transferred for repairs at Iacon via transit car, and is currently in stable condition. In other news, work is nearly complete on the new joint construction project on Earth..."

"Sounds like you had a rough day."

Roulette turned away from the news feed. "You could say that."

Shadow Stalker gave her sibling a gentle smile and slid over a tray as she sat down beside her. As the rest of the bustling patrons of Maccadam's Old Oil House went about their business, the lighter-colored of the two Viper sisters nursed her drink gloomily.

"As bad as Fireflight feels about it, it's just as much my fault." The silver and blue Dodge shook her head. "I'm the sharpshooter. I'm supposed to get the marksmechs before they get us. And there I go and let my commander and his second get hit. It doesn't matter that he didn't make a third shot; he shouldn't have made one."

"No one's perfect sis," the black Dodge countered. "Besides, I've met the guy who shot at you. You're lucky Hardtop didn't get more than two shots in."

The Autobot femme grimaced. "He's that good huh?"

"Good at shooting, not so much at moving." The Decepticon femme sipped from her own mug. "He's a decent mech though; not very social, but nice enough. He was never comfortable around the rest of us."

"Anti-social?"

"No, the others liked to tease him, especially Wind Sheer. He liked comics, collected them. Others mocked him for it, and he ended up joining Megatron to get back at them." Shadow Stalker rolled her mug in her hands as she continued. "He regretted it as much as I did. Where I only stayed out of fear though, he stayed because he kept on thinking that he wasn't responsible for the damage done. He could justify it because he struck from a distance, not up close. If he ever saw the results of his actions up close..." The femme shrugged. "I dunno, maybe he'd give up. I hope he would anyway, but with Terrablast calling the shots now, he definitely won't leave."

"She's that scary?"

The Decepticon femme gave her sister a flat look. "When Megatron was in a bad mood, you could see it coming from another planet. Terrablast isn't like that; she's insane, unpredictable. One second she could be skipping around without a care in the world, the next she could be tearing into you with her rifles. The rest of us avoided her, period. Even Megatron kept her at arm's length, she was that creepy." She turned away as she added, "Lucky for us, she kept to a rotating set of bases. The only times we ever saw her were in those service tunnels when she was switching between them, or when we had to get a message to her."

The silver Dodge's optics widened. "Message?"

"Yeah, message. Megatron used to coordinate things with couriers. Communications can be traced, but recorded selections on data pads or chips can't. They'd use those same service tunnels so they wouldn't be seen."

"So those couriers would have an idea of the layout for those tunnels," Roulette reasoned.

"Yeah, but a lot of the couriers were slagged. Those tunnels are dangerous, even if you know your way around. The only ones who would have that knowledge and aren't scrapped were captured ages ago; Lugnutz and Runamuck." A smile grew on Roulette's lip components and Shadow Stalker's own optics widened. "Ooh, I know that look."

The Autobot femme downed the rest of her drink and got to her feet. "C'mon, it's time to do a little detective work."

Her sibling eagerly finished off her own drink, then followed her out the door.

"You should've seen me! I bolted out of there like a shrikebat out of the Pit, and that slowpoke Autobot couldn't keep up!"

"That's nothing; all you did was fly away and let an Autobot chase you. You should've seen what Terrablast did to Ultra Magnus...no way are we seeing that 'bot anytime soon. Just wish I'd crushed his cranium while we were at it. Course, she had more than a little help, now didn't she?"

Hardtop suddenly turned and looked upon the eager faces of Smokejumper and Swindle, then gave a halfhearted "Yeah" in reply.

"Aww, is something bothering the little sniper?" came the familiar voice of a purple and grey Cyberjet. "What's bothering you, huh? The fact that some slinky femme went and blasted your precious rifle?"

Space Case guffawed dumbly at Wind Sheer's comment.

Hardtop didn't answer, and simply transformed and drove away, ignoring Wind Sheer's further comments and leaving himself in his own thoughts. He'd been party to someone getting scrapped...and there they were, laughing about it. And thanks to his enhanced sensors, he could hear every eager word from Smokejumper, every boast from Wind Sheer, every depressed complaint from Dreadwind and every malicious growl from Swindle.

He'd joined this group to get respect, to stopped being laughed at for his hobby. Now it was worse; instead of merely being laughed at for enjoying comic books, he was now being hunted, not to mention a party to slaughter. How many had he slain...how many faces, how many lives were gone thanks to him?

Before he could further muse on his own stupidity, he caught quick sight of Tankor and Obsidian, grim looks upon their faces, and swerved out of the way. They passed, acting as if they hadn't noticed him.

Oddly enough, that suited him just fine right then. He was alone figuratively; he may as well be alone literally.

"Looks like the supports through here gave way, probably due to the combined weight of the Wreckers and the heavy ordinance used."

"Sounds about right." Checkpoint walked up to the massive hole in the road, his gaze following Prowl's view of the damage. "We're lucky none of the others went down with Magnus, otherwise we'd have a real mess on our hands." His comm.-line chirped. "Yes Divebomb?"

"We've got incoming boss," the Mini-Con helicopter replied. "Swerve and Roadhandler. You want Strongarm and Firebot to ward them off?"

The ivory Autobot shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary. They probably wouldn't stop them anyway." He turned to his guests just as they arrived and asked, "What are you doing here Swerve? Jetfire put you off-duty."

"I need to do something," the crimson racer explained as he transformed. "I can't go hunting after Terrablast, fine, but I can at least see if I can figure out where she went. Better than just standing around and waiting to see if Magnus is alright."

The Security Commander looked first at the Wrecker, then at his Mini-Con partner, who threw up his arms in defeat. He turned back to Swerve and said, "Alright. But just so you know, we haven't found anything. Quickstrike hasn't spotted anyone from the air, and Armorhide and Inferno are examining the tunnels right now. None of them have found any sign of where Terrablast and her troops went."

Swerve grew firm as he considered the tunnels. "No offense, but my sensors are a lot more sensitive than theirs. If there's a trace of anything, even a whiff of a trail, I can find it. And if not, well, four sets of optics are better than two."

Checkpoint nodded; it wasn't as if he'd be able to convince him otherwise. "Alright. Head in and see what you can dig up, but don't charge off to follow it. Report back to me, then we'll see what we can do."

Swerve nodded his assent, then scooped up Roadhandler, bounded past them, and jumped into the hole. As his ebony comrade looked upon him in surprise, Checkpoint quipped, "You think we could've stopped him?"

"No, but what's stopping him from charging off after whatever he finds?"

The suspicious note in Prowl's voice was clear, but Checkpoint simply replied, "Magnus's unit, while reckless, is disciplined. Swerve won't go charging off."

The black and white Autobot looked back down the hole, optics narrowed. "I hope you're right."

The CR Chamber hissed open, and Knock Out slowly emerged, his arms restored to working order and his armor repaired.

"How you feeling?"

"Better," the Mini-Con answered as he looked up to find Whirl's relieved face looking back down at him. "Where's Magnus?"

The lean blue Autobot immediately grew downcast. "Follow me." He led the Mini-Con to another corner of the medical center, passing through several circular doors as they went, and finally arrived at a small area blocked off by clear windows. Stockade stood on their side, his arms hanging at his sides and his optics grim. On the other side, the medics continued to work on the unconscious Magnus. "How is he?"

"The same: stable." The Wrecker 2IC watched as Knock Out climbed up onto a small platform built into the wall, the Mini-Con's optics focused on his partner. "Glad to see you're back on your feet though."

"Thank Primus for the smaller miracles." The bulky white Mini-Con turned to the gold and maroon Autobot. "What about the others?"

"Swerve and Roadhandler went to help find where Terrablast ran off to, and Roulette's taken some time for herself. The others are in the combat simulator." Stockade turned back to Magnus's form. "Except for Sunstreaker, they've all been up here to check on him."

"Not much surprise there if you think about it." Whirl turned to his senior officer. "None of us is really the most noble among the Autobots. Magnus is the only one that's really respectable. Still don't get why he'd prefer to run around with us misfits rather than lead the Autobots proper like Prime."

"You've never seen him when he's left to fill Prime's boots." Both Autobot and Mini-Con looked to Stockade as he continued, "Magnus has the brains for command, the confidence, the charisma and the strength. But he doesn't want to command, at least not an army. Our unit balances itself out, but an army is a much bigger thing to worry about, and Magnus's doubts about himself prevent him from really stepping up. Doesn't mean he can mind; he just prefers not too."

"Still, with Optimus making plans to eventually take a place on the new Council, we'll need someone to take command." Whirl's golden optic visor rested on his unit commander as he added, "I hope Magnus is at least there to get it."

"He will be." Both Autobots looked down as Knock Out promised firmly, "Doubts or no, Magnus is a soldier. And soldiers don't give up without a fight."

The Autobot tank gave a proud smile, then turned back to his commander. "Damn straight."

"You should've seen the roads there man, it's like they stretched on forever. These humans know how to be free, y'know?"

"Yeah, it does sound nice. Could you hand me the sonic torch Lugnutz?"

The Decepticon motorcycle obliged, passing it off to his bulky friend. Runamuck took the device and activated it, applying it to his current work. Once a former courier in the service of Megatron, the ebon Transformer was now all but unemployed, making his living as an amateur artist rather than a proper warrior.

"The roads are nothing compared to some of their poetry though." As his friend began cutting down bits on his current piece of work, Lugnutz continued, "I looked through some of it, especially stuff by this Ginsburg guy. Real nice. 'Course, I'm not in much of a rush to go back without Dutch; these humans, they're crazy, y'know?"

"As long as they appreciate good artwork, I doubt I'll have a problem with them." He finished shaving off a bit of scorched metal, and then gazed upon his work. "Needs something." He set aside the tool and retrieved a small canister and sprayer, then specked on a bit of yellow paint. "That's it."

A light chime issued forth from the door to his compound, catching his attention. Runamuck quickly set aside the spray paint and picked up his gun, a bulky white weapon. He hefted it up, the laser sight online, then weaved his way through his studio towards the entrance hatch, stepping past his works as he did so. After a few short seconds, he made his way to the hatch and opened it.

"You greet every femme at the door like this, or just the ones with Wreckers for sisters?"

Runamuck huffed in relief. "Sorry Shadow; still afraid that someone'll come and find me for turning myself in. Come inside, but careful how you walk."

The Decepticon courier stepped back, and his guests entered. As Lugnutz noticed them, he waved jauntily. "Welcome to the House of Art ladies! Not much of a party scene, but it beats being out in the cold."

Roulette took sight of some of the pieces of art, many of which resembled destroyed buildings and crushed wreckage, but kept her opinions to herself. "Runamuck, we need some information from you and Lugnutz."

"If it's about turning in the others, no way," the bulky mech refused, moving his arms about slowly as he set his gun down. "Bad enough I left 'em, I'm not gonna paint a target on my back."

"We don't need any names," the silver femme assured him. "Just a map of the service tunnels. You used them in the old days; probably know them better than anyone."

Runamuck studied Roulette for a moment. "Trying to figure out where all our old bases were, huh?" He invited the two femmes to sit on nearby stools, and he himself did the same. "I remember back then, when we were all trying to stay hidden. Loads of bases, all over the place and all connected to the tunnels. Who specifically you chasing after?"

"Terrablast."

He cringed. "Take my advice; don't bother stuffing her in a stasis cell, just blast her on the spot. That femme's nuts, period."

"One scary mother hugger, as they call 'em on Earth," Lugnutz echoed.

"That isn't the way we operate." The Autobot femme collected herself. "We aren't the ones to decide something like that."

"Well, you'd be better off." Runamuck stretched his fingers a bit, then turned to Lugnutz. "What do you think?"

"Not like we really want her to come after us cats," the motorcycle reasoned. "If she's locked up, maybe scrapped, less chance of that, right?"

Runamuck nodded; while said in his own way, his friend spoke wisdom. He pulled a small chip from one arm, then tossed it to Roulette. "That's got a map of all the old bases on it. Don't think it'll do much good though."

The silver Viper smiled as she stored the chip before making her way to the exit. "It's a good start. Thanks."

Shadow Stalker stood to follow, but was interrupted.

"Hey, Stalker." She turned as Runamuck looked at her fondly. "Nice going, getting back with your sister. You two look good together."

Despite herself, the Decepticon femme smiled. "Thanks." She then quickly darted after her sister and closed the door behind her.

"No offense Swerve, but I don't think you'll stand much chance of picking up anything." Inferno looked over the shoulder of the dark red Autobot. "We've been over it with a fine-tuned sweeper and we didn't find a thing."

"They don't come much finer than me," the Wrecker insisted as he ran his hand along the floor. "If there's anything here, I'll find it. I have to."

The small red Mini-Con at Swerve's side looked up. "What happened to Magnus isn't your fault. We were occupied, same as the others."

"Never said it was my fault."

"Then you're saying that we aren't doing our jobs?" He looked back as Armorhide raised his arms in a warding gesture. "Kidding! We all want these guys caught too."

"Well, I don't think you guys would just forget about..." Swerve began in his defense. His attention returned to the ground as he finished, "...your jobs...hello." Inferno and Armorhide stepped forward, curious as to his discovery. "Adjust your sensors, maximum sensitivity. Look for traces of Energon fumes, low to the ground."

The two Autobots did as he suggested and blinked in surprise.

"It's a trail," Swerve realized. "During the battle, Roulette blasted Hardtop. The blast must've made contact with the charge pack on his sniper rifle, damaged it. What we're reading is a leak from his power tanks; extremely faint, but just visible if you tune your sensors properly." He moved his hand along the ground, pointing past Inferno and Armorhide. "That's the direction that it came from; it grows weaker in that direction."

The red fire engine followed the Wrecker's movements with his cannon, and then pointed the opposite way. "So he went that way." He nodded and smiled, visibly impressed. "Not bad."

"The trail's only going to last so long though," Swerve cautioned. "I can't go after them, and you'd be spotted in a second."

"Somebody call for a bloodhound unit?" came a yell from above them.

The four looked up to find three Mini-Cons looking back down at them, Checkpoint standing over them.

One of the Mini-Cons, a black one with police lights on his front torso, stood proudly. "I can track it easy, and no way are they going to see us."

"A little out of your job description Strongarm," Inferno answered.

Another Mini-Con, colored red and grey and with twin cannons on his arms, answered in turn. "Incredible odds? Danger at every corner? It's made for us."

The third Mini-Con turned to face Checkpoint. "Just give the word boss."

Swerve got to his feet as the Security Commander gave his approval. He pointed down the tunnel, and the three Mini-Cons transformed and followed the trail he'd discovered. "Keep a signal going!" he called excitedly.

For as long as he had been online, Ultra Magnus had been a soldier. He'd been brought online in the midst of the First Cybertronian War, leading troops into battle against the Quintessons. Even then, it was clear that he had the makings of greatness; his inventiveness in battle, his courage under fire, the way he inspired his troops...all that led him to be compared to the greater ones among the Transformer ranks.

The comparisons, however, were wearying. As much as people liked to say otherwise, he wasn't anything like the others. Optimus Prime, Jetfire, Scavenger, even Grimlock all came before him. He'd been frustrated time and time again by the comparisons made; he wasn't as good of a peacemaker as Optimus Prime, as personable or friendly as Jetfire, or as aggressive as Grimlock. He wasn't as good a leader as Optimus Prime, as good a confidant as Jetfire, or as good of a warrior as Grimlock. It wasn't those simple facts that made him bitter, but the constant comparisons that did so.

Eventually it became too much. One day, he snapped, yelled and vented his frustrations at an unfortunate soul who came to him at just the wrong time.

"You think I enjoy being compared to them? I don't! I'm not them! I can't be them! I could never be them even if I'd tried! You got that?!"

Most Transformers who witnessed his outburst stood speechless, their faces shocked and scared out of their wits. This one little Mini-Con, however, looked at him blankly, and replied with a few choice, calm words.

"So? You aren't them. Who said you had to be?"

The Mini-Con who would later become his partner was right. He wasn't Optimus Prime, or Jetfire, or Grimlock...he had things each of them did and was neatly in the middle of that triumvirate. He could take their places if need be, even if it made him uncomfortable. But as much as he could be a leader, a confidant, a warrior...he was first, and foremost, a soldier.

Ratchet muttered several choice words. "We can't patch him up the way he was. The damage is too extensive all over the board; circuits are fried and shot, connection joints are trashed, hardpoints are totaled...he's lucky his Spark's still active."

"He's lucky this hasn't happened long ago." Red Alert shook his head as he looked over Magnus's specs. "As useful as his construction is for repairing, when it gets like this, there's not much that can be done."

"Can't we replace the damaged parts with something else, like a prosthetic?"

"No Minerva; humans might be able to do that in certain conditions, but we can't do it here." The white and red Autobot femme looked down as the Mini-Con Prowl elaborated, "We can't just slap in random replacement parts. You'd need the exact make and model, otherwise he'd be little better than a standard robot."

"So he's stuck like this." The femme slouched against one wall, her wings brushing against various bits of equipment. Her exhaustion was clear; compared to repairing Evac and Hightail, Magnus' injuries were much more extensive than what she was used to. "So much for Cybertronian medical science."

Red Alert cast a brief glimpse towards Ultra Magnus's body, his processors settling on an idea. "There's still one possibility."

The other two medics turned to him, shock on their faces.

"You can't be serious," Ratchet asked. "The spark-catcher? Red, we all agreed just before he came in here that thing was too dangerous for use."

"Not to mention the last time you did it, you had the consent of the patients involved." The femme cast a thumb back at their patient to emphasize her point, not noticing a slight change in the sounds of their equipment. "He's a wire away from stasis lock, no way is he in a position to authorize it."

"Can you think of any other options?"

"If there are some...I'd like to hear them."

The three medics were immediately silenced, sharply looking first to the quartet of Mini-Cons with them before glancing to their patient. One optic was wrecked and out, but the other was still a brilliant gold.

"Don't make me turn that into an order."

Loud cries of relief sounded off from behind the glass wall, barely audible to those in the ward. Magnus looked to find Stockade, Whirl, and Knock Out still there, the Mini-Con giving a relieved and happy grin. The Wreckers CO responded with a painful thumbs-up before casting his attention back to the medics.

Minerva, for her part, was surprised beyond belief. "How long have you been cognizant?"

"Long enough to hear you debating about something." The white and blue Autobot turned to Red Alert and asked. "I read the report on those 'spark-catcher' things of yours. You think you could do for me what you did for Hot Shot and Smokescreen on Earth?"

"Yes and no." The CMO laid his hand upon the examination table, readying himself. "Removing your spark in order to repair your body isn't the problem. The major problem is that your body is too damaged to repair. With Hot Shot and Smokescreen, they still had salvageable components from their bodies that I would use as components for their new forms. With you, we don't have nearly as much to go on. We'd have to implant the spark into an entirely new body."

"And something like that is like taking an organ from one person and putting it into another," the Earth-born medic realized. "There's a chance of rejection."

Red Alert nodded. "Exactly."

Magnus's answer was immediate. "A slim chance is better than none. Do it."

The three medics and four Mini-Cons looked to one another, resolution growing on their faces.

"You heard him 'bots, let's get to work."

Firebot gave an eager laugh as he heard Ratchet's words, and then clambered up to activate an external speaker. "One of you guys head for the craftsmechs; we need a new frame!"

Whirl rushed off immediately, transforming as he did so despite the hazard involved in flying indoors. Stockade activated his communicator, his words unheard but the movements of his mouth clearly explaining his intent. The Wreckers were being called back in.

All the while, Knock Out stood and watched. As Ultra Magnus was put into temporary stasis lock, the last thing he saw out of his remaining optic was that single Mini-Con, maintaining his vigil.

Through the darkened tunnels the Night Rescue Team sped, keeping low to the ground and enshrouded by darkness as they followed their trail. As they moved along their path, one thing raced through their minds. It wasn't fear, nor apprehension, nor determination; it was excitement. They were back on Cybertron, back home, and making a difference again.

The three Mini-Cons had crashed on Earth millennia ago, their six-occupant pod finding itself lodged in what one day would become Wales. The activation signal, sent out less than a year before, had signaled the pod's location to a group within the British government; before the three could be reactivated and brought back online, their pod had been located, unearthed, and moved to a secure location. It was only with Great Britain's signing of the Cybertron Accord and political pressure from the Autobots that their locators saw fit to allow their release. The three weren't fazed by that too much; they hadn't been harmed after all, and the institute which held them had been unable to open the pod they were in.

What mattered most to Divebomb, Strongarm and Firebot, however, was that they now had a chance to be active once again and make up for their several million year long slumber. They'd done a great deal of work on Earth, aiding in relief to disaster areas wherever needed. And now, they were back home again, on Cybertron, where they could help most of all.

Below the small blue helicopter, his two companions halted, the black police car transforming and indicating the end of their trail. Divebomb transformed in response, his advanced sensor array sweeping through the nearby areas for spark signatures. Sure enough, they found them; nine Decepticons, hidden away from view.

The last of the trio transformed, then pointed upward. Faded by time was a marker indicating their location relative to the surface. K-14; Kaon, Sector Fourteen. Firebot then pointed out an access hatch, leading onto the surface itself and allowing them exit.

Divebomb gestured negatively to his subordinate; their quarry would have such an exit covered. Strongarm agreed silently, and produced a small spray can from his chest cavity, marking their position.

That done, the three reverted back to vehicle mode and silently departed. Just as they exited sensor range, a hatch opened, and a deep puce Decepticon Cyberjet stuck his head out curiously. He quickly took sight of a pipe putting out small jets of steam, shrugged, then returned to his hiding place.

Flamewar fumed silently to herself. There wasn't much else she could do, her options limited by her circumstances. The stasis unit which held her was designed to effectively neutralize a Transformer, keep them from moving, yet keep their Spark active and online, their processors going. She received information, could access whatever she liked whenever she liked. She couldn't get a signal out however, not without the holographic emitter built into the unit. And that had an effective range of less than five Earth yards; that, combined with the numerous lock systems used to keep her held prisoner, made escape highly unlikely. She could receive visitors, but no one could come who would be useful in allowing her freedom.

Not unless she turned her back on her beliefs, became a traitor to her leader. And she wouldn't do that.

A signal went through her processors; she had a visitor. Starscream again, most likely, though he tended to come only once every Cybertronian day. Perhaps he was feeling particularly chatty, spurred on by her moment of weakness.

"Hey Flames. Got a minute?"

Or, perhaps, it wasn't Starscream.

Her holo-emitter came online, its optics wide in disbelief. "Sharkticon?"

"Surprised to see me?" The former member of the Eclipse Team was casually leaning against a nearby wall, his arms across his chest and manner all easy-going.

Flamewar was about to answer in the affirmative, but stopped herself in time. "Starscream asked you down here, didn't he?"

"As a matter of fact, he did. Wanted me to try and convince you to give up on following Megatron, play for his side. Me, I doubt I can convince you either way just by asking you. So instead...I'm gonna do something that I want to do. Catch up."

The femme looked at her visitor in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"I spent I don't know how much time stuck in a stasis hold in the middle of a crashed Autobot ship on Earth. You, meanwhile, were running around here, on Cybertron, having all sorts of fun. I'd like to hear about it, from you."

The Decepticon convict seemed hesitant. When she began to speak, it was in a low, saddened tone. "It wasn't all fun and games. I was always on the run, hiding in the shadows, keeping out of sight. It was only through limited communication with Tankor and Obsidian that I heard anything of Megatron's efforts; never trusted the news feeds enough to follow them. It was long...and tiring...and lonesome..."

The shark nodded. "You're right; that doesn't sound fun. Makes me wonder what reason you had to stick with him for so long."

The femme continued to lock optics on her old comrade, snapping off an answer. "I have every reason to continue supporting him." Despite the projection, her optics seemed ablaze with energy. "Autobot tyranny has held us back for eons, prevented us from spanning the universe."

"What tyranny?" The aquatic Decepticon looked at the femme's avatar, seemingly amused but otherwise not expressing emotion. "You checked the records lately? Starscream gets just as much credit for the creation of Powerlinx technology as Red Alert. Decepticons aren't prevented from going wherever they like; frell, me and a couple Autobots hop into Maccadam's once in a while for a drink. Besides, we can go wherever we want in the universe already, and I was never too keen to conquer and rule stuff. The only colonies we've gotten anything good out of were on uninhabited planets anyway, so why conquer and rule?"

The avatar remained silent, then its optics narrowed. "How could you leave Megatron? He was your leader."

The shark abandoned his previous tact, and reacted on bitter instinct. "He left me first, me and the rest of my team. No rescue attempts, no efforts to break us out, nothing until the Acheron was found on Earth. I was just the only one to realize it. Now say what you will about 'acceptable losses' and all that, but sometimes the loss doesn't enjoy being lost. I don't like the idea of having been in that situation, and I bet you don't like being stuck in here either." He leaned forward, starting to disrupt the holographic field. "In case you haven't noticed, Tankor and Obsidian did the same to you."

"That's insane. I'm too valuable."

Sharkticon threw his arms wide. "Are you? You aren't stupid; you could have sniped Starscream from a distance, planted explosives, blew up his office and his building. Instead you lured him into that trap, one that the Autobots easily figured out and defeated. Now either I've given you a lot more credit than I should have, or they wanted to get rid of you." Green optics rested on the projection of her red ones. "If I were you, I'd want a shot at payback. But that's just me."

Flamewar maintained her tough demeanor, but beneath the avatar, within her mind, she could begin to see his point. The same thing that he'd mentioned to her, she had brought up with Tankor and Obsidian. As much as she hated to consider it, he not only had a point...but was most likely right. In several million years, only a trickle of new recruits had joined Megatron's cause. Many had been captured, mercifully few slagged in battle, but nowhere near the numbers that had been with him in the beginning. Many more had left; Astrotrain, Runamuck...even Shockblast and the Combaticons had parted ways with him and abandoned his banner. The fact that Shockblast himself had seen reason to jump ship and side with Starscream showed that Megatron's ambitions were becoming less and less achievable; the ends were no longer justified. Megatron, as well as Tankor and Obsidian, were so obsessed with the goal, they didn't care what they had to do in order to achieve it.

After a period of silence, Sharkticon shrugged and moved as if to leave.

"Wait...If...If I joined Starscream...what would I get?"

He turned back to her. "For starters? A reduction on your sentence. No way you'd be totally free; you'd probably get probation or something, if the Combaticons are any indication. But you'd be out of here, back among the rest of us. Starscream would probably reactivate your commission, restore your rank and stuff. Knowing Starscream and his reluctance towards wasting a resource, you might even get a part in his inner circle." He added, as if it were an afterthought, "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"And he'd trust me?"

"He trusted me."

The veteran Decepticon remained pensive for a moment, reflecting on her options. "Loyalty is commended, but we choose who we follow. Megatron said that a long time ago; wouldn't surprise me if Starscream's done the same." She finally looked to Sharkticon. "Get that Seeker in here. Tell him I'm willing to deal."

If Sharkticon had a mouth, he would have smiled as he stepped to one side. Starscream entered, followed by Wreckage and the bulky green Decepticon tank that was Brawl.

The femme's optics widened as Starscream approached her stasis unit, the literal key to her freedom in hand. "You were waiting for me."

"Wishful thinking," the blue and grey F-22 assured her. He deactivated the unit, causing the avatar to flicker out of existence and the device to open as he stepped back.

As the other Decepticons watched, Brawl eyeing her warily with his side-mounted quad guns at the ready, Flamewar's optics came alive, and she tentatively stepped out of the unit. She flexed her fingers, accessed her systems. Her weapons weren't online, as per protocol, but everything else, including but not limited to her transformation capabilities, were fully up and running. She finally turned to Starscream and asked, "So, Lord Starscream...what are your orders?"

The Decepticon leader smiled. "We need tactical support, intelligence. Tankor and Obsidian have taken up with Terrablast; the Wreckers are going in soon with the Combaticons providing support. Any information you can give us will be appreciated." He politely waved towards the exit. "Come with me."

Starscream made his way out, and Flamewar followed, flanked by Sharkticon and followed by her new leader's heavily-armed aides. As she looked at them out of the corner of one optic, she caught a grateful, dare she say joyous, glimmer from the emerald optics of the gold and purple Decepticon to her left. Despite herself, she smiled back.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged again. She wasn't alone anymore. And that was a comforting thought.

"This is excellent work Roulette; how did you come across this map?"

"A little bit of inspired insight." The silver Viper gave her sibling a smile, leading to a small coloring on her faceplate in response. "It doesn't tell us where they are specifically, but it does tell us where they might be."

"And between that and the trail Swerve found, we'll have ourselves an exact fix on where they are right now." Checkpoint looked over the map appreciatively with a few of his fellow command officers. "Assuming they don't move."

"No way has that happened." Bumblebee punched up a set of camera feeds. "Once I found out they were using the tunnels, I patched in with the built-in sensor units, had them reprogrammed to scan for spark signatures rather than radiation leaks or anomalies in the power grid. Not a single sign of Decepticon activity; just the Night Rescue Team, and we barely noticed them. Wherever they are, they haven't budged."

Prime's smile was evident on his face as he looked upon the gathered intelligence; the camera feeds as well as the map emitted from the holoprojector before him. He gave his 2IC a small look; despite Jetfire's lack of a mouth, he could tell his old friend was similarly pleased. "With or without Ultra Magnus, we'll need to take this opportunity while we can. One of these bases has Terrablast and the rest of the rogue Decepticons; that's for the Wreckers. One of them was where we captured the Eclipse Team, and we've had it under guard since then." One of the points on the map was marked red. "That leaves seven more. Bumblebee, Checkpoint, Grimlock, can you prepare enough teams to head for these seven bases and keep our targets from escaping to them?"

The Security Commander looked over the map "My unit might be able to handle two of them, but that still leaves five."

The Intelligence Commander shook his head. "Sorry Prime; we've been understaffed ever since what happened with Nebulos. Chromia, Ricochet, Flareup, Mirage and I can go in, but even if I borrowed Crosswise, that's only two more teams. Three hideouts left, assuming this is all of them."

The commander of the Dinobots surveyed the map grimly, crossing his arms as he did so. "Prefer to keep team together. We deal with one. That leave two more minimum."

"I may be able to help then." The gathered Autobots turned as another monitor came online; Starscream appeared alongside Shockblast, Barricade, Sharkticon and Flamewar. The Decepticon leader gave a smile. "Flamewar has decided to take up my offer."

With a gentle prod from the blue and grey Seeker, the black motorcycle stepped forward. "The only base that I know of which Tankor and Obsidian would use was that warehouse I tried to scrap Starscream in. And it's under guard."

"This means that if we keep them to the tunnels, then we'll have the last rogue Decepticons dealt with once and for all." The relief was clear on the F-22's face. "That just leaves the last two hide-outs. Skywarp, Sixshot, Demolishor, Sharkticon, Wreckage, Brawl, and the Combaticons are all willing to go."

"I can also give assurance that my unit's new tactic will work to perfection." The Combaticon leader tapped at the blue Energon star on his chest. "We will cover the surface. Give us the word, and we shall intervene."

"Sounds like a plan to me," the Autobot Air Commander said eagerly. "And with that new Overload unit we just got from Earth, we should be all set."

The doors to Optimus's office slid open as Red Alert walked in, a triumphant look on his face. "It looks like everyone is in good spirits; let me add to them."

The Medical Officer stepped aside, allowing entry to those he was escorting. Stockade, Whirl and Knock Out moved alongside him as an honor guard, their faces beaming with joy. The mech was colored mostly white and blue, with bits of silver, black and yellow dotting odd points and twin red Autobot emblems on his shoulders. His design suggested an Earth semi for an alternate mode, and his head more than anything suggested Optimus Prime's own, albeit silver and white rather than silver and blue. It took those gathered and linked into the office a few short nano-kliks to recognize the Autobot before them, but when he spoke, all doubt to his identity was erased.

"What's everyone standing around for?" Ultra Magnus asked. "Last I checked we still had a job to do."

Optimus nodded, his smile growing wider as a chirrup from Checkpoint's comm.-system got their attention.

"Night Rescue Team's reported back in. They're under Sector Fourteen, Kaon."

The map projection immediately responded as one point upon it was highlighted in blue.

"That's your target." The Autobot leader turned to the Wreckers commander. "You ready old friend?"

Magnus's answer was confidence. "I think we can deal with this now."

Optimus surveyed the faces around him, and gave two words. "Roll out."

"One Autobot dealt with, and not a sign of them coming to avenge their dear warrior." Terrablast tutted. "They must be repairing him even as we speak, for all the good that will do them."

"It cannot hold them for long." Obsidian hovered silently, optics affixed upon the Decepticon femme. "At best, this is borrowed time."

"They will most likely attempt a counterstrike very, very soon." Tankor's rumbling voice was all too clear in the smaller chamber. "We would be wise to vacate, now."

The ivory-armored femme gave them both a disappointed look, shaking her head as she did so. "Such a lack of faith...such pessimism...we'll be just fine. Should they attack, well..." She raised her arm-mounted cannon. "Magnus fell easily enough."

The two Decepticon mechs looked at one another as Terrablast exited the chamber, the door sliding shut behind her. She surveyed her troops and took stock of their expressions. Smokejumper, Swindle, Wind Sheer and Space Case all appeared prepared for battle, the former two more eager than the latter. Hardtop was sitting in one corner, silently pouring over his holo-comics, and Dreadwind sat elsewhere looking his usual somber and depressed self. While not the most fearsome of units, they would be more than up to the task should another attack come.

What she expected was that it would happen, regardless of the circumstances.

What she didn't expect was that it would happen right then and there.

BLAM!

The entrance hatch was blasted open from outside, the remnants of the door scattering and the gathered Decepticons darting about in panic. As she watched in shock, the dust settled, and an unfamiliar white and blue robot with a massive Overload unit latched onto his back stood before her, the barrels of its rail guns white-hot.

"Rogue Decepticons, you are all hereby under arrest under the authority of the Cybertron Alliance," the white and blue robot boomed in a familiar voice. "This is your only warning; surrender now."

Terrablast's smile returned. "Ultra Magnus. What a surprise." The Decepticon femme opened fire.

Suddenly, the Overload unit jumped off of the Autobot's back as Terrablast's troops swiftly transformed and readied their engines. The unit transformed into a tall robot with a color scheme matching that of its partner, a familiar white Mini-Con interlocking with it and giving it a grey and black head with a blue face and yellow optics. The combined form absorbed the blows without as much as a tremble.

The smile faded from Terrablast's face as the fully Powerlinked unit opened its gun ports and missile banks. "We warned you," taunted the Mini-Con at its head before it opened fire.

Massive blasts tore into Terrablast and her armor, destroying her prized cannon in one blast as her troops scattered, the small jets among them darting past Ultra Magnus and his partner.

If Magnus still had a visible mouth, he would be smiling right now. He turned back to watch three Decepticon jets depart as he activated his comm.-line. "Wreckers, we have escapees; Smokejumper, Space Case and Wind Sheer are heading out as I speak."

Knock Out finally let up on his assault as Swindle charged and jumped towards his combined form, his rifle held like a berserker's club. The combat frame-enhanced Mini-Con caught the smaller Decepticon and slammed him against the wall as Terrablast transformed to tank mode and blasted away, terrified of her opponents.

Additional missiles fired off from Dreadwind, prompting Knock Out to dodge and Ultra Magnus to pull out both a black twin-barreled assault gun and a long white and blue gun and open fire. Both shots hit their mark, the first hitting and destroying a missile in the midst of reloading and the second sending the Decepticon onto his back.

Magnus surveyed the two downed Decepticons, and then turned to the remaining one within the chamber. Hardtop quickly held up his hands and kicked away his still-damaged rifle. "I surrender!"

Smokejumper could barely contain himself as he blasted away with glee; he'd gotten away from the Autobot attack, same as the rest of his team. They'd meet up again elsewhere; he was sure of it, just as sure that he wouldn't be hit by anyone on his way to the next base.

A massive blast to his undercarriage jarred the high-speed Decepticon interceptor out of his reverie and onto the ground. He transformed mere milliseconds before a massive claw pinned him down by his arms.

As their capture looked up in shock, Fireflight aimed his twin missile launchers; at point-blank, they wouldn't miss. Air Raid, meanwhile, surveyed the captured Decepticon with a bit of pride. "Caught you."

"Nah, can't be...I'm the fastest..." Smokejumper began to protest, fear seeping into his voice.

Twin cannons found themselves in his face, and their owner looked down on him with cold blue optics. "One more word, and you'll be missing a head."

The Decepticon was visibly cowed by Sunstreaker's threat.

"So, you think we can get away?"

"Less talking more flying!"

Wind Sheer inwardly cursed at his dimwitted companion, their collective engines taxed to the max as they sped along the tunnels. They couldn't be caught, they just couldn't, not like this!

Grey hands came out of nowhere and took hold of their nosecones, bringing them down. The two Decepticons shut off their engines just as a camouflage shield came down, guns from Roulette, Swerve and Stockade pointed directly at them.

The two Decepticons promptly transformed. Space Case, disoriented by the attack and still held down by Whirl, promptly squeaked, "Parlay?"

Terrablast at last reached the chamber where her subordinates had been, the door sliding shut behind her. Terror was etched upon her face; she'd never expected Ultra Magnus to come back, strike against her so swiftly, so precisely. All pretenses of ease and confidence were gone; she was scared out of her wits, plain and simple.

"They've come!" she said, a note of panic in her voice. "We have to-!"

"Escape?" Obsidian finished for her. "A marvelous idea."

Terrablast looked in surprise; where the far wall of the chamber had been was now an elevating platform, Tankor already standing upon it smugly. His smaller partner surveyed their former ally with a clear sense of disgust and superiority.

"You...you would abandon me...?" The femme choked on her own words. "But Megatron...?"

"Galvatron no longer cares for you, wench," the Decepticon tank bellowed in correction. "Your usefulness has ended."

As the Decepticon prepared her guns, Obsidian fired off a small disk. The projectile lodged itself upon her head, sending a painful electric pulse through her systems.

"Electromagnetic disk," the small helicopter explained as she screeched out in pain. "It will systematically disable your motor functions, wipe your memory, and reduce you to little more than a husk." He hovered over to the pad and touched down. "If the Autobots manage to catch us, they might just thank us."

She continued to scream as her systems shorted out one by one, her optics going black just as her former comrades escaped and the door behind her slid open.

Ultra Magnus stormed in just as the pad rose out of sight, his optics quickly finding the convulsing form of the Decepticon femme. She was no longer screaming, but pure terror and pain was etched on her face. He reached down and tore off the disk, tossing it aside, and then turned back and gently scooped up his fallen opponent, cradling her in his arms. The face softened and went slack, her jaw hanging open limply as her head leaned against his chestplate.

"I've got Terrablast," the white and blue mech reported. He scanned over her body, trying his best not to be disgusted with her fate. "She's in bad shape; spark's stable, but I'm not getting much otherwise." His optics looked to where the platform had been. "Barricade, they're heading your way. Your show now; bring down the house."

"Confirmed; we are at the ready." Barricade turned to his unit as rubble was shifted to one side before them. "Combaticons, combine!"

With that order, the five began to shift and rearrange themselves. Blight and Stormcloud formed arms, Kickback and Blackout forming legs, and Barricade forming a core body and head.

Just as Tankor and Obsidian reached the surface, Bruticus Maximus surveyed them with a mix of apathy, contempt and carefully controlled rage. The combined Decepticon readied his guns just as they took sight of him and ordered, "Surrender, NOW."

Obsidian fired off another disc, hitting the giant in his chest and sending it into a panic. The two rushed away into the shadows, taking careful looks as the combined form disassembled itself, the disc breaking off in the process.

Kickback grumbled as he surveyed the scene. "Slaggit. They got away."

Stormcloud looked upon his leader in a paranoid manner, but Barricade simply looked upon him gratefully. "You probably saved us with the disconnect; well done my friend." He then activated his communicator. "Barricade to Magnus; my apologies, but Tankor and Obsidian have escaped."

The Autobot at the other end huffed. "You did what you could; the others are in custody, such as it is. Head back to base; we'll debrief you as soon as we can."

"Understood." The channel closed, and the Combaticon leader turned to his unit. "Not every plan goes perfectly it seems. But we did well under the circumstances. Next time, we shall be successful."

Blight moaned balefully. "On and on again..."

"No damage to any units, seven rogues captured and two still at large." Grimlock groaned. "Not a total victory."

The Dinobot commander sat within a meeting room within the Citadel at Iacon, the other chairs around him filled by the other senior Autobot officers, all of whom were in varying states of emotion over the day's end.

"Not a total loss either." Bumblebee smiled cheerfully, the only one to do so. "We came out better than they did. That's seven more locked up, seven more that we don't have to worry about. And no way would Tankor and Obsidian be stupid enough to try a breakout."

"Assuming they wanted to, given Terrablast's condition." Red Alert groaned. "The good news is that her body is still intact and her spark is still online, for the moment. The bad news is that her mind's been wiped; she's comatose, a 'vegetable' as they say on Earth."

"Any chance of recovery?" came Optimus's question, Magnus looking at the medic with similar concerns.

The medic shrugged. "We have her on life support. She might wake up someday, but if she does, I don't expect much in the way of informative discussion."

Another rumble from the T-Rex. "So she all but offline; fine. Why not finish job; she earn it if any Decepticon has. Probably do her a favor."

"That's not for us to decide," Jetfire countered. "We don't execute without trials, and we don't try comatose Transformers."

"And even if wasn't comatose, probably so brain-scrambled that she not fit for trial anyway." The T-rex grumbled. "Why me not surprised?"

Checkpoint turned the conversation away from the comatose prisoner, also wanting to avoid further arguments between the two commanders. "That aside, Tankor and Obsidian are a threat. They won't try a breakout; their leaving Flamewar to us shows that much. But finding them is paramount right now; no telling what's going to happen if we don't act."

"Agreed." Optimus Prime surveyed his council, and then declared, "But even with Tankor and Obsidian still out there, we've done a good night's work. Autobots, dismissed."

"If I'd gotten one shot at those clowns, I would've..."

"Torn them apart." A pair of mumbling went out as Ricochet surveyed two of his three tablemates.

"Give it a rest, huh Ric?" asked Chromia as her fellow femme took in her drink. "We hear that every time you miss out on a fight."

The second femme, her red and goldenrod armor a stark contrast to her mentor's white and light blue, gestured to her comrade with her free hand. "And we know you could do it, we've been there more than once."

"Just reminding you Flareup," came the ebon jet's reply.

Crosswise shook his head as he took sight of two new arrivals to Maccadam's. He raised a friendly hand and called, "Nice to see you made it."

Sharkticon nodded in acknowledgement. "Had to convince my friend to come." He motioned his companion forward gently as she looked upon the full table uneasily.

As the four Autobots looked upon her with neutral expressions, Flamewar finally screwed up her resolve and asked bluntly, "May I join you?"

Crosswise rose to his feet and retrieved two chairs. "Last I noticed, we checked our allegiances at the door. That includes former ones."

Ricochet was slightly more straightforward. "Yeah, sit and have a drink."

Chromia smirked as the two Decepticons took their offered seats. "Don't mind him; he's just jealous that he missed out on all the action today, not to mention Ceti Alpha Seven Part Two." Noticing surprised looks from Sharkticon and Crosswise, the femme grinned as additional drinks arrived. "Easier to joke about something once it's over."

"Especially with good oil," Sharkticon agreed as he took up his receptacle. The shark gave his motorcycle companion a look as he gave a toast; "To having a lot less guns shooting at us."

Flamewar glanced about, the four Autobots prepared to join her old comrade in this simple gesture. She picked up her container and did the same, a smirk on her face. "To not having to dodge any of them."

The six mugs clanked as one, and their owners took a drink.

Hardtop's awareness increased as a visitor entered range of his stasis unit. The Decepticon sniper's holo-avatar came online, and he looked in surprise. "Stalker?"

The femme smiled back. "Hey there. Came to see how you were doing."

Despite himself, he smiled. "Bored. I miss my comics."

Shadow Stalker laughed gently. "You'll see 'em again soon enough. I've talked with Starscream; he's willing to..."

"No." The femme looked at him in surprise as he explained, "I don't want early release, I don't want any deals, I don't want mercy or anything like that. I'm serving full term, period, and I'm not getting out before then."

The ebony Decepticon looked at her friend in surprise, then smiled. "Anything you do want?"

Hardtop smiled back. "A visitor would be nice."

A nod. "We can do this."

A door slid aside, allowing the two to enter unabated.

"Nice that Starscream hasn't reactivated this old communications tower," Tankor noted as he scanned a console covered in a thin layer of dust. "Also nice that the access codes are easily cracked."

"Older facilities get the least security," his partner noted, deploying long fingers from his gun mounts and bringing the console before them online. "Fortunately, this one still has enough power to get a message out."

A few kliks passed before an unfamiliar face with a familiar voice greeted them curtly. "Tankor. Obsidian. Report."

"Lord Galvatron," the deep blue helicopter fawned. "We've some news for you."

The End