Heatseeker is dead.

Given a second lease at life. How many beings are that lucky? Not many. Specially not war mongering Decepticons. Designed to fight, built for battle, it's in their core programming to battle against something, anything. A life without strife is a life not worth living in their minds.

That's me. A Decepticon at heart, but an Autobot in mind. Ousted by my own faction for treachory, I was saved by the very side that I fought to destroy for millennia after millennia. I wear no faction insignia, no badge on my body. I pledge allegiance to no one. But after my "salvation" of sorts, I believe that I will only rest when the fight is beat out of me. When the battle for peace is one and every last other Decepticon puts down their arms and for the first time in most of their hateful lives try to live a life without war.

I am a faceless warrior. A mysterious black phantom in the sky. A dark shadow of death following those that need to be found. I still live true to my design, my build. I hunt and I kill. It's what I'm good at. Only now I kill for the peace of coexistence. I feel that this is a more honorable side to be on. I no longer fight under the command of tyranny but that of a leader who exudes compassion. I may not wear the red symbol on my chest or wings, but In my mind, I know where I stand. This wasn't a side that I chose, but a side that chose me.

Not all of the Autobots trust me. Not completely anyway. Most of them don't know where I came from. Don't know who I was before. I prefer it that way. But still, the presence of a Seeker, even a Seeker of new design, is unsettling to many of them. Though I look slightly different than those that they are used to seeing, it's obvious what I am at the core. I'm not ashamed of it. Part of me is still proud, I'm just mad. Hey, it happens.

This story picks up after my salvation at the hands of the Autobot femmes and Alpha Trion. Well after my reconfiguration courtesy of the ancient mech and after Megatron's decree to destroy or imprison every femme old enough to fire a weapon. Arcee and I, well, we got a bit antsy and decided to head back to the danger of the war on Cybertron. Hey, fun is fun even crazy fun.

Its not my intention for this story to be about girls and Transformers, it's not about fluffy love, happiness and life being swell following some sort of tragedy in which the human heroine is rescued by some Autobot on the side of the road and nursed back to health. If those are the kind of stories you're looking for, then stop reading now. Go back a page, there are over 4,000 stories about that exact sort of thing to keep you happy.

I don't mean to insult you buy stating that, it's just that this is a different type of story. It is about death. It is about being saved by Autobots but not as you'd expect or have grown to be accustomed to by most stories. Love was involved. I stress was because now, hate and anger have taken it's place. Revenge plays a big part in it. So if you think this may be a woman scorned story, it does have those elements but they are not the backbone of it. The revenge I want is more encompassing than one mech. More encompassing than one spark. It's against a group, an idea.

This is who I am after the "tragedy" that finished off the first half of my life. If you aren't aware of what happened or who I am, then I recommend you read about my "Betrayal Becoming" before you continue onto this story. You know... to have a better understanding of who I am. I

I am Enigma.

Cyberton, shortly after the fall of Iacon:

"You need a reconfig." I bellow out as she storms off.

"No I don't!" She's so mad right now. Arcee can be one of the most hard headed femmes in the galaxy, I'm sure of it. "I'm fine the way I am." Her voice echoes back as she turns a corner down the hallway.

"'Cee! Wait up." I'm chasing after her. It's moments like these that I think I may understand why Megatron made that decree. Femmes are difficult. The only question is how did he know? Last I remember, his only bitch was the same one I played bitch too. Starscream. Yes, that's right. I said it. Starscream is his bitch. I wish you could see my smirk right now.

I turn the corner and she's no where to be seen. Damn that femme is quick.

Arcee and I met back in my Decepticon days. We didn't trust each other very much but can you blame us? Well, actually, let me rephrase that. She didn't trust me more than I not trusting her. I didn't blame her a bit. My last day wearing that purple insignia on my wings, she followed me. Shortly before they came after me to teach me what treachery will get you, I literally shoved her out of a door to safety. The nutty glitch came back looking for me only to find my aft broken and torn, hanging in quite the macabre from a statue in one of the most beautiful structures still standing in Iacon at the time. Like the rest of the city, it too is now rubble.

"'Cee!" I finally catch up with her only to be greeted with a glare that pierces my spark. Primus, she can shoot some deadly looks. "Cee. I'm sorry. It's just that, I want you out there but I think they're going to single you out. If anything happened..." Begging is not one of my better skills these days.

"E, I'm fine. Heck, by the time I'm out of there, they won't even know what hit them." She's right. She's quick. Too quick at times. But that still doesn't make me feel any better. She's my closest friend and I'd be lost without her. This war is taking it's toll on all of us. I see it in her every day. I on the other hand, have always been this morose.

"Look. I'm just saying..."

She cuts me off before I can even continue. "I know what you're saying, 'E. You had to do what you did if you were going to survive. I don't. I'm happy like this. Please understand that."

She's half of my size but now I feel as if I'm just a quarter of hers. I hang my head and mumble, "I do understand. I'm sorry." We're such a goofy looking team. The tiny pink femme and the big black femme. The odd couple. The only femme's crazy enough to come back here right now. We face death, we face imprisonment and as a possiblity, we do face worse. Only one of us has looked worse in the optic and lived to tell about it. I never tell about it. I keep it inside, buried deep. I only want to protect her from that which almost killed me.

I feel a hand on my arm. I look down to see her giving me a grin that says all is well. I shake my head and laugh. "I'll see ya later then."

"Yep." She waves and walks off. I stand in the middle of the hallway trying to decide where I want to go next.

"Damned Seekers." A voice growls as I walk into the room.

"I didn't do anything." I raise my hands up in defense.

"I'm not saying you did. But yer extended family did." Ironhide has the most fitting name of any mech I've come across in all 3 million metacycles of my life. He's a grumpy, old battle worn mech with metal skin a mechanometer thick. He hates Decepticons and I'm still trying to figure out why he allows me to be within an arm's distance of him on a regular basis. He's one of the handful of Autobots who know my history.

"Don't group me in with those bastards." I roll my optics heavenward. Ironhide laughs at my obvious irritation and gives me a wink before continuing to grumble to himself.

"Most 'Cons just try to kill ya and get it over with. Those damned bastards like to toy with you. Why?"

Can't I just move on from that point in my life? Guess not. "Programming, Ironhide. Core programming. We don't know why we just do. Hell, I do the same to any Decepticons I come across." I do. I love to taunt my prey. Toy with them. It's sick, I know, but it adds a pinch of fun to the job.

He snorts at me while he messes around with yet another gun that needs to be modified, modified and modified again until it's nothing more than a portable cannon. He's trigger happy. He can be very scary at times and I've faced Megatron in a bad mood more times that I care to remember as well as Shockwave. Well, Shockwave is just that, Shockwave. That one eyed, walking gun of a computer is just scary period. Your day to day existence is always a gamble around the one eyed, two antenna having, purple mech killer. Anyway, I sit down on a stool and watch carefully as Ironhide tinkers with the massive gun on the table top.

"Isn't that Cliffjumper's gun?" I'm looking at the size of this thing and trying to compare it to C.J. It's going to blast the smaller red mech into the next region the first time he fires it.

"Yes."

"Isn't it... uh...sort of big?" Uh oh. Shouldn't have asked that. Never question Ironhide's work. EVER.

I can feel my armor buckling from the heat of his glare. I'm not apologizing. I'm too stubborn. Instead I give him an audio receptor to audio receptor grin and add in a quick, "maybe not?" just for the insurance that I can still live to walk out of this room. I vow to not leave until he does and to make sure I'm behind him as I do so.

"Shut it ya flying target or I'm using you for practice next." He's in a good mood today. I'm lucky. Whew.

Ironhide puts the massive gun down with a huff and calls Cliffjumper to come and get it. He turns back to me,"Gimme yer arm."

I give him my right arm.

"Yer other arm." He narrows his optics at me.

I give him the left.

"Gun."Lord he is bossy when he's working or any other time for that matter.

A panel opens up on my left upper arm from which a long gun appears. I have two but I only shoot with my left. I prefer to use my right hand for strangling the living daylights out of whatever unfortunate 'Con tends to be at the end of it while introducing him to the business end of my gun in the most up close and personal manner possible. Yes, I am that twisted. Hey, did I not just say that Seekers like to mess with their prey?

Ironhide reaches for his tools and sets to work on modifying the gun. This on is bigger than my last and not part of my lower arm and hand like my last gun was. This gun is actually capable of disabling the enemy. My last would just stun them if anything. We're trying to make this one capable of killing with one hit.

Silence is normal for me. Talking is a privilege I only use with those who know me best. About a cycle goes by before he speaks up again. Between his massive fingers, Ironhide holds a black box and an oblong purple object. "This," he holds up the purple thing, "Is a model of an explosive photon round. Traveling, it will look like this." He manipulates the model with both hands until it appears to balloon out at the tip. "Once it comes into contact with metal or another solid object and only if it manages to pass through, it will expand. Tendrils of super heated photon energy will encompass it causing it to wreak havoc by shredding the internal components of whatever it enters. It's a dangerous little bugger. You won't have many so I suggest using it only as a last resort and from from a distance."

"That is wild." Is all I manage to blurt out while he finishes installing the generator and connecting all the wires.

I watch as Cliffjumper finally shows up and gets his gun and I barely listen as he and Ironhide have a short conversation. I really wish that C.J. would stop distracting Ironhide because right now, I'm not exactly feeling a tickling sensation. Ironhide is connecting the wires which is quite painful with each solder that is completed. "OW!" Yep, pinched.

"Aw come on. That was just a little pinch." He teases me. Finally, Cliffjumper leaves. Ironhide laughs at my discomfort. He can be a bastard sometimes but ya can't help but like the mech. "Alright. Finished."

"Soooo no practice with this bad boy?"

"Nope." Grinning that slag eating grin that usually spells trouble.

Stop being so smug, Ironhide. I think it. I don't dare say it. There's no flying indoors and I think that's the only way I'd be able go get away quick enough. This is my mentor. Ironhide. He's the only other mech I know of that goes hunting for 'Cons while armed to the teeth. He treats every little skirmish like it's all out war. Gotta love it.

I have no side. I have yet to fight anything other than out of self protection since I've been reconfigured. For all intensive purposes, I'm an independent. That won't stop Decepticons. Hell, they've been known to attack neutrals just for fun. If anything I'm a target. So that's what I'm doing sitting in this room. Getting a new identity.

"Something that'll allow you to travel unimpeded. You're unique understanding of their side puts you in a privileged strategic position. " Wheeljack hasn't looked up from the computer in ages. I just continue to rest my head in my hands and wait. When he starts brainstorming, all you can do is sit back and watch his genius in motion. I stare at my feet for what seems like an eternity when he finally breaks my bored concentration.

"Here. Finished. It's back dated and everything. Read it and tell me what you think."

I raise my head and look up at the monitors and screens seeing my own image. Side by side stands a engineer's draft of my robot mode and my alt mode are on the screen. Above that is a picture of my face with my shields in place. Just a blank nothing staring back. This is my description below it all:

DesignationEnigma
Status: In service
Service No: Classified
Faction: Indepedent
Primary Duty: Bounty Hunter

Wait. What? What did that just say? Bounty Hunter? Are his circuits fried?! "Wheeljack?" The tone of my voice is enough to raise alarm but he stays cool.

"Enigma, just wait. Read on. I'll explain it when you're done." He's just too relaxed sometimes and too excitable at others. This is obviously a relaxed day.

I glare at him and continue to read on.

Secondary duty: Unknown
Gender Classification: Unknown
Platform: Seeker
Initial Online date: Unknown
Creation Matrix: Creator Unknown
Location: Unknown
Weaponry: Classified under Cybertonian Armament Directive no. : 12BZ887AA78- OI. 89.
Skills: Classified under Cybertronian Armament Directive no: FRZ6782223X- PT. 12-3
Special abilities: Classified under Cybertronian personal data records privacy directive no. 8999Q89H.12.42. Y

Speed: 9
Intelligence: 7
Strength: 6
Weapons: 7
Agility: 10
Skill: 9

Notes: All info regarding this individual are classified due to nature of primary duties. All information is protected under the regulations and directives set forth by the Galactic Security Ministry on date 388973.81 . Identity is protected. No known history is on record. End note.

"Interesting. You created a whole new me." I'm truly shocked.

"Just one thing, Enigma." Uh oh, Wheeljack has that 'you're going to want to hurt me' sound in his voice. That means he left out a very important fact.

"Yesss?" I ask. I like Wheeljack. The mech is nuts and always seems to come up with some new fangled toy. Being a former scientist myself, I can appreciate his creative nature. Scientists are like artists in a way. We create functional art that betters, or worsens, society. Depending on your view.

"You'll need the mark."

"The mark?" Oh boy. I remember getting branded when the Decepticons finally found a badge to put to their name. That hurt. Thank Primus I was off lined when Alpha Trion reconfigured me and removed those things. Metal has to be removed, melted and remolded to you to do it. Sensors cover almost every metallic cell of our bodies. The pain is unbelievable.

"Yes, bounty hunters were a blue symbol on their chest and right arm that denotes what they are. It works as a license. It is going to hurt." He sounded reluctant to add that last part on. Pain is something I've grown to live with but branding pain is a lingering, annoying, aggravating, hateful little sensation that burns deeper than it shows. All for the good of it. I nod. He shows me a picture of the odd, thin, alien looking symbol that is blue. "Ratchet will have to apply it soon."

"Great." I mumble into the air and get up to follow him down to Ratchets medical bay.

"GGrrrreeeeeeeeeeghh." I grunt and groan as the laser brands me with the Bounty Hunter symbol. The little bugger doesn't sting it sears! But it just saved my aft. Bounty hunters are expected to always cover their faces, disguise their voices and to hide their true identity. Perfect for me since that's what I do all the time anyway. This little gig may have just saved my aft. WhhoooT! For me.

"I thought Decepticons are all about pain?" Ratchet raises an optic ridge at me. He has such a dry sense of humour.

"Not right now, please." I'm huffing the pain away. At least thats the sound coming out of my vocal circuits "huff, huff, huff."

Ratchet chuckles and doesn't try to egg me on any more. I hate brands! "Wheeljack, what happened to my old profile?" I'm trying to break my concentration on the annoying pain in my arm and on my chest.

"It has been updated. Not by me though. I suspect one of your former colleagues did it."

Hmm.. .Soundwave. "Show me." I growl still clutching my arm which is clutching my chest. He brings an image up on the computer screen at Ratchet's work station and there it is. Old me in all my fiery red glory.

DesignationHeatseeker
Status: Terminated

"fragging sons of glitches..." I mumble to myself.

Service no: ZZ90887.23.SS.2
Faction: Decepticon

See archive for further information.

"Archives?" I ask curiously.

"Yes, Enigma. You well, old you, are history." I guess that Wheeljack is smiling. I can't tell since he doesn't have a mouth. One can only go by the expression in his optics.

"Can you bring it up please?"I'm really curious as to what it says. I've never seen my own file.

"Yes, even I have got to see this." Ratchet takes a seat on the other side of Wheeljack while he takes that blasted laser apart cleaning it so it can be stored.

"It'll take a breem or two." Wheeljack starts typing away and I wait patiently by his side. "Alright..." I look up at the screen again at the info that has appeared there.

Designation: Heatseeker
Status: Terminated
Service no: ZZ90887.23.SS.2
Faction: Decepticon
Primary Duty: Air Defense Alternate
Secondary duty: Intelligence analyst
Gender Classification: Femme
Platform: Seeker
Initial Online date: 144667.32
Creation Matrix: Starscream , creation category-1AS43
Location: Vos Research center Alpha.
Weaponry: One low level multi phase photon cannon, 2 Tail mount energy swords, 26 armor piercing knives.
Skills: advanced linguistics, expert code breaker
Special abilities: level 1 telepath

Speed: 8
Intelligence: 7
Strength: 5
Weaponry: 6
Agility: 9
Skill: 9

Notes: Former scientist and lifetime apprentice to high ranking Decepticon Air Commander Starscream, Heatseeker is believed to still be under his direction at most times. Individual is wanted for crimes committed during the early formation of the rogue faction of Decepticons to present. Wanted felon. Considered extremely dangerous. Crimes include: Armed robbery (accomplice), first degree murder (accquited), 2nd degree murder, kidnapping (accomplice), forgery, accepting stolen goods, trafficking stolen goods, obstruction of justice (3 accounts), Assault (multiple accounts), Assault with a deadly weapon (multiple accounts), Impersonation of a state official (accomplice), Vehicle theft (accomplice), Treason.

Update: All charges drop due to termination of Individual.

Wheeljack is staring at me in disbelief. I smile at him awkwardly and point towards the screen. "See this?" I point at the listing for Creation Matrix. "I was just following him. Okay, well... not always, but..." Okay, I'm stuttering now as I attempt to backtrack." You see where I got it from." I whine in defense. Yes, I whined. As unattractive as it is. I did it. At that moment, reconfiguration or not, I know who I looked like. I'm almost too disgusted with my self to believe it.

"That's um... quite a rap sheet you had there, Enigma." Yep, I can hear the disbelief and shock in his voice.

"Starscream?" Ratchet hasn't taken his optics off of the screen yet.

Branded for life in more ways than one. "Yes, Ratchet. I'll elaborate some other time." A silence falls on the room and I can feel two pair of optics boring into me. I feel smaller than a turbo fox right now.

"I've learned a lot since those days." I look down at my arm and trace my fingers over the brand that is there. "I'm going to go now." I practically leap up from my chair. Awkward silences make me very uncomfortable.

"Enigma," Wheeljack calls as I pass through the door. I turn around to face him, my face contorted in embarrassment. "It's all in the past." His optics are smiling again. I smile back and then continue to walk down the hall.

"What in creation is that?" Arcee points up at my chest with an almost accusatory tone in her voice.

"The mark of the Bounty hunter." I say rather nonchalantly. We're in our gym. It's a homemade dojo actually. I need to practice some knife work and she has offered to help. I really wish I had someone my own size to do this with but 'Cee will have to do for now. What she lacks in size and strength, the half crazed femme makes up for in speed and skill.

She drops her sword and gives me a look that just screams 'what?!' "A Bounty Hunter? How random is that?"

"Hey, it works okay. Think about it. That gives me access to their side and I have diplomatic immunity."

" Oh, 'E, come on." She puts one hand on her hip and the attitude is just radiating from her. I think she just turned a deeper pink, "Diplomatic immunity? You out of everyone ought to know that that means nothing to them."

"It sounds good." I have no answer for that because I know she is again, correct. I think one of my logic circuits got knocked loose during that attack and Alpha missed it.

"Yep. It's official. You've lost it."

"Shut it and fight me femme." This is normal. This is our friendship. Brutal honesty with a touch of anger. It's really the only way to go if you ask me. We have a blast.

"Hey check this out..." It's me and the 'Cee again. She hands me a data pad upon which a mission is posted. "Came across in the system today. The new bounty hunter in town has her first mission." She giggles at me while I press my lip components together in a scowl.

"Is this a joke?" You can never be to sure.

"Nope."

"Kaon?"

"Yep."

"The fortress?"

"Uh huh." Primus, I think I just saw Arcee smirk. Too funny.

This is when I start to laugh hysterically. Apparently, Swindle is missing. That doesn't surprise me one bit. Even more so, he's managed to piss someone off in the mean time. That Someone being a rather irritated, yes even this is possible, Soudwave. I cannot let this one slip through my fingers. I hate that little turbo weasel. It'll be my pleasure to bring him kicking and screaming back to Mr. Personality.

"I know exactly where to find the little punk. I accept." I hand Arcee the data pad back and get up from my chair asking her, "What are you going to do?" She sits down where I had just been sitting a moment before. I'm hoping that she doesn't say "coming with you." I do not want to take Arcee into Kaon and I feel like arguing with her about it even less.

"I'll think of something." Her response is flat. She's not happy but I'm not going to fall into this trap again.

"Okay. I'll see ya when I get back." I high tail it out of there before she changes her mind.

Kicking and screaming is exactly what that little lying bastard Swindle did as soon as I found him. He was hiding out at a safe house in Pylar 3. One of the neutral sectors that are more Decepticon than neutral but full of riffraff that are too unfit to lead, follow or fight. They're left to their devices but do react quite well to coercion.

This is my job. I find those who don't want to be found. If they happen to be 'Cons, well, I just act observe and report back what I saw. For repayment, I don't get killed. Fair enough if you ask me. I haven't actually found a way to get a repayment that doesn't turn my reservoir so for now, living another day is just dandy.

Maybe I was a little to rough on old swindle but using my own version of a null ray gun seemed to work perfectly. I'm lucky I found this gun. It's small and hand held, but it'll work. I've got the little twerp restrained with energy bands. He's not breaking away any time soon. I have what they want but dammit, I need a service ship. Yeah yeah yeah. I know, I'm a Seeker, what do I need a ship for? I'll tell ya. Prisoners it's that simple. Barely any of them are small enough for me to transport on my own. I have to walk this metal monkey back to Kaon. Hey, there's a thought... most of the service ships are under Decepticon control... Hm. I'll have to work up to that.

"That null ray hurt like hell didn't it?" I have to add insult to injury, it's just my nature.

"I've felt worse." He cracks back at me.

"Really? Did you cry that bad when you got hit with it or did you just pass out from the pain?" Ooooh, the glare I get for that one is priceless. I should have recorded that moment.

Old Swindle stays as quiet as quiet can be on our way back. The occasional "I'm tired" comes from him but not too many to make me want to torture him any. I have to admit I was tired myself. I never thought I'd be grateful to see Kaon but the closer I get to it, the more relieved I feel. 2 Breems of rest is enough to keep me going. When we reach the main entry all I do is shove his mug into the camera's view and glower behind my mask at it. I pray no one can see how nervous I am.

I'll admit, I'm scared half out of my wits right now. I have to act as if I don't know where I'm going and try not to let a single inkling of fear escape my body. Oh and on top of that, block Soundwave and still appear as if I have all my carbonducks in a row.

We've proceeded down the long passageway from the main entry and I wait. I won't move a step more. Swindle hangs his head in, what I can only assume is shame.

Soundwave is approaching from the direction of the Coms and control room. I swear if I had breath, I'd be holding it right now.

"Follow me." Mr. Excitement has spoken and we do as commanded. I stare at his back trying desperately not to think about putting a knife in it. If I preoccupy myself with emotional junk, I may leave myself open telepathically. Nope. I know that twinge in the back of my head. He doesn't see me shake my head and thank Primus for the face shields so he can't see the smirk beneath them. I block him quickly enough when he does try that he stops, turns and, I can only guess since his face is covered as well, stares me down. Ah, going incognito is grand.

"You can sit, you can not." Soundwave leaves the room to do what I guess, is to go alert Megatron that Swindle is back. I sit down at a chair of which my aft is, excuse me, was very accustomed. It's the chair I used to sit in when I worked with Captain Boring. Oh look, there's the floor I spent a lot of time on in agony grabbing my head after a telepathic attack. Ah the good old times. I sit, wait, watch and listen. Oh and scan mentally.

I'm hoping I don't need to play audience to some sort of punishment for Swindle. He's a piece of scrap but I know what they can do to one of their own if they're angry enough. I don't want a reminder right in front of me.

I'm lost in my own thoughts when Soundwave comes back. I look up as he enters, saying something that I did not hear. Augh. I have to speak to him. I switch vocal processors to the one that closely mimics his. "Say again." Is all I say.

"Swindle is going to go into a detention facility now instead of returning to his duties. You will accompany him there, turn him over and return to here. Only then will you be finished. Astrotrain will take you both." That was a command. I know it.

I nod. It's all I can and will do. Yay a field trip with the black market master and the space choo choo. Lucky me. Phase 1 has come and gone and I'm still alive. I could get used to this.

Tyre. A slagging pit of mischief. The perfect drop off place for Swindle to learn nothing. This is like criminal college. I can only wonder who gave the order to send him here. Oh well, not my worry.

Before I turn him over I have to do one last thing. "Swindle, what is it Soundwave is looking for?"

He hesitates and eyes me suspiciously but does not respond. Out comes the gun. "Do you only comply to pain?" Oooh that sounds evil when it's monotone.

"No. Here." He pulls a small chip out of a compartment on his wrist. I don't ask what it does. I have no reason too. I'm only the hired muscle, how funny, to get this guy. I put my gun away and shove him forward. The guard gives me his confinement orders which have been approved and marked to bring back as proof and I'm on my way. I sit silently the entire flight back. The great thing about this Bounty Hunter stuff is that no one asks you any questions.

Or so I thought...

Well, here it is. Volume 2 of Enigma's story is beginning. I will probably be running two stories congruently. This one in the first person and the other in the third. Typical femme drama is abound as well as a the growing friendship between Arcee and Enigma. These are only the introductions that will set up the rest of the story so that I, hopefully, won't have to back track. I hope you enjoy.

See Transformers: The War Within TPB.