I don't own the Transformers universe or any of the trademarked/patented/copyrighted stuff. Please don't use my OCs without asking, as I'm fond of them. Unless it's to draw me a pretty picture, of course : )

This is the sequel of a monster-sized fic, and I don't plan on writing long 'remember that time I did this in the first story?' bits unless it fits naturally… so if you haven't read First Impressions, you may be confused right off the bat. At the risk of sounding snobby, I think the first one turned out ok and I'd recommend it.

M rating, so that I can smatter in as much cursing as I care to, and also play with smut as I see fit. I do love smut. If you're underage in your country and don't care about rules, I swaretajeezus you'd better not read the smut parts. I'll go there and I'll get you.

I managed to do something a couple years ago that infuriates me now… I chose to spell Hot Rod 'Hotrod' because I felt too lazy to do the HotspacecapitalRod. I kept doing it after my hiatus simply because I didn't want to have a big distracting change. But I'm changing it now. Ha!

The usual units of time apply, plus stellar cycles (about 400 days.) If the words are in bold they are spoken in English.

Someone once told me that going to Hell doesn't mean you burn forever; it's permanent nothingness and separation. If that's true, Hell was modeled after space.

It's possible I went a little crazy after the first month or two of leaving Earth. It's also possible that I lost a bit of myself, hanging onto Hot Rod's vibrantly active spark for so long. Space isn't empty of distractions, but you do the same things over and over.

Watch for solar storms when you're near a lively star. Check for magnetic storms everywhere. Monitor all channels for activity. Monitor self. After six months or so I went so crazy that all I had left to do was go sane again, and I learned to cope.

I'd been jealous of Skywarp's cosmopolitan history, fueled by the tiny peeks he'd given me through images and stories. He'd failed to mention how God awful boring it could be. The most exciting thing to happen to me in a year and a half had been an asteroid storm. Do you still call them asteroids when they're all smaller than marbles? That'd been scary as hell, but I'd gotten through it.

Surprisingly enough, I'd actually managed to prepare myself for my galaxy-wide journey fairly well. The one hitch in my plans had been my failure to plan for my rapid growth. Sure, I'd stowed plenty of energon rations in my hip compartments, but when you grow that much in under two years the fluid in your system thins a bit.

I'd been suffering from what felt essentially like dangerously low blood pressure, even after consuming all but two of my small energon rations. I'd grown used to the persistently yellow-orange warning light on my console. There was nothing I could do but keep moving forward and hope I found someone willing to bum me enough energon to get me back on my feet when I hit a colony.

The energon problem began to lead to a predicament towards the end of the second year. I began to black out periodically, waking up orns later. Once I found myself drifting so far off course that I almost thought I'd doomed myself to floating helplessly forever.

I'd flipped on my GPS in a panic, only to discover I'd underestimated my positioning equipment. It showed me the entire range of stars for maybe half a light year, including the one I'd been busting my burners to reach for so long. After that my drifts rarely caused me any trouble, though I worried that I'd inevitably be caught in a gravity well or a storm and be melted or crushed. Not so close to my goal.

The only constant comfort I had to hold on to was my spark twin, Hot Rod. He was an unswervingly vivacious mech. Since space did little for my personality I tended to reflect his emotions directly. I imagine he often forgot about me, mirroring him as well as I did. I caught myself imagining the situations that inspired his daily mix of emotion.

When he recharged I allowed myself to feel hopelessly left out, and hopelessly childish for being jealous of his exciting life. It was my own choice to head out into the void chasing a Seeker who might not give a damn about me. I didn't even have a clue where to begin looking, aside from Thundercracker's initial point in the right direction.

Skywarp also had the advantage of being able to teleport. I'd never asked him how far that ability could take him, but he must've used it at least a few times in the last two years. I could be so ludicrously far behind that I'd never find him, and then all I'd have left to do was go back to the Autobots with my tailfins between my legs.

I grudgingly prepared myself for a calculated drift. My thinned energon had trouble keeping up with constantly firing thrusters, so to avoid blackouts I'd begun to try cruising along on the momentum I built either on my own power or by using stars as slingshots. The slingshots were dangerous, even I knew that, but better than waking up to Primus knows what. The benefit was great enough, since it allowed me to recharge on solar power whenever I could.

The first time I picked up a radio signal I nearly ruined a slingshot. A high-pitched voice crackled through my receivers. In response, I braked when I should've pushed and just about fell into a gas giant. By the time I had things under control I was getting a steady one-sided stream from Squeaky Voice, though I understood none of it. It took me a while to remember that my communications suite was made for this; it was able to translate twelve frequently used space-faring languages, and soon I had Squeaky pegged. He/she/it was speaking a trade language, labeled in my suite simply as 'Common.'

My supercargo has everything ordered, have patience! – No, I will not grant a discount, the wait is negligible!

I listened to the argument for a long time. I hadn't heard another voice outside of Mirage's recorded lessons in two years, and I was shocked at the unexpectedness of a regular conversation.

You can stick your plague-sponge mother in a trash compacter for all I care! I have a business to run, same as you! I don't know how you lasted this long, you bilge-slime!

It ended as abruptly as it started. I felt lonelier than ever at the loss, but I couldn't ignore what that pointless message meant; I was approaching life. Someone lived out here. It took all my patience to try again for the slingshot on the next planet in the system and cruise along at a relative snail's pace.

Transmissions became frequent, so much that I no longer jerked, cut out my thrusters, or otherwise goofed up at the sound of someone's voice. Mostly people on business used the frequencies I could access, so I used the opportunity to learn Common. I might understand them, no sweat, but I doubted anyone out here had could translate an Earth language.

My memory core and 'brain' were near photographic in many ways, so it took me just a few days to develop a vocabulary large enough to cover me, should I need to speak with anyone. I also devoted some time to the other languages that cropped up. I'd been shocked when Cybertronian voices found their way into my receivers and had quickly devoured as much of the unfamiliar language as I could. I was one of them, after all.

The first ship I saw was another shock. Some big cruiser thing painted a gaudy yellow caught my attention about 300 miles ahead and below me. It wasn't going to cross my path, so I was satisfied to watch it until I realized that the cruiser would be heading for someplace populated. I dropped back a few hundred miles and followed them.

It took them a week to reach the station. The further they went the more active my comms became until I actually turned most of them off. I saw dozens of other ships, mostly on the way out, so I'd expected a large port of some kind.

I wasn't ready for the sight of the sprawling complex. It was built into and around an asteroid, shining metals and plastics giving the place the look of a city-sized shopping mall. My yellow guide was already docking into a huge open landing area, so I sped up and followed him in. I heard other ships being hailed and questioned on my broad-range comms, but I avoided attention either because I was silencing my signatures or because I was so small.

I transformed and landed on the dock. I hadn't been in my robot mode under any kind of gravity since I left Earth, so not only was I thrown by my new proportions but my lack of energon had me falling to the dirty, scratched bay metal.

I stood slowly, avoiding the looks I was getting from other beings. Some wore space suits, some didn't. Most were organic, but there were DNA based robots in the mix… Or maybe just true, stupid robots. I wasn't sure at this point.

I looked down at myself then took a self scan. "Holy shit," I exclaimed, though the vacuum stole the sound. I was easily sixteen feet tall. I'd been ten when I left home. No wonder I was barely able to function!

The glares I could feel from the other creatures on the bay encouraged me to look for the entrance to the station. I ended up following a group of ungainly, loping creatures in space suits to what turned out to be an airlock. They all ignored me, and so I ignored them.

Air and pressure returned to the room, though I could tell a human would be hard pressed to feel comfortable. The airlock released us into a sprawling plaza busy with all manner of travelers. Shockingly, many of the organics were as tall as me. Were humans so small?

I wandered through the vast crowd, taking in the structure. It was silver and cream, with huge windows giving a view of the ships as they came into port. Somebody big bumped into me and nearly knocked me over, if it weren't for the next poor person I stumbled into. It snarled at me with an impressive collection of teeth and I apologized in Common, walking away as quickly as I could.

"Excuse me," I tried getting the attention of several aliens, until finally I caught the eyes (four of them) of a furry brown Bigfoot. "Where can I find some energon?"

"Energon? You buzzed already, what you want with energon? Pop a gasket!" the creature rumbled.

I stood where I was, shocked. I looked drunk? Was I that unsteady?

I took a new tact, asking the next busy person I could get to pay attention to me where I'd find a place to fuel.

She… well, it looked like a she, waved me towards the brightly lit end of the huge place, so I began the slow journey through the mass of writhing life. The business, the quickness of everything was overwhelming.

The bright lights turned out to be shop fronts, which sprawled not only left and right but up, with walkways and lifts arranged to allow people to reach them easily. I might understand spoken word but I couldn't read the characters on any of the signs, so once again I braved the disapproval of the crowd and asked which store might sell energon.

The buggy eyed little creature had looked me up and down critically. "Upper level will serve your kind," then skittered away on six legs. The diversity here was insane.

I rode a lift to the top tier of shop fronts, which was practically deserted when compared to the busy main floor but still too crowded for me. I ducked into the first place I saw, pushing through the swinging door.

The new room was dark, and my olfactory sensors detected something completely unpleasant. There were creepy, hunched over creatures here, organics. My optics caught a robotic organism in the corner, but the darkness was so complete where it sat that I couldn't be sure if it was Cybertronian.

The place looked exactly like a bar. There were tables scattered all around, booths against the back walls, and a long bar against one wall. Behind it dozens of bottles were displayed on shelves high on the wall.

I headed for the bar, avoiding the gazes of the slimy looking patrons and sitting on a rounded barstool. I barely registered surprise at it fitting my size; everyone around here was at least twice the size of the typical human.

The barkeep, the same species as most of the smelly customers here, eyed me as he rubbed a red beaker with a brownish towel.

"Whatcha want?" he gurgled.

I stared at him, realizing I had no way of paying this creature for the energon I needed. Shit.

"Ah… I just need some energon. I don't have any money."

The creature had bent for something below the bar, but snapped upright when I said I couldn't pay him. "Then get out. No freebies."

"Please, just a little. I won't-"

"I said GET OUT!" the creature exploded. I flinched and stood, backing away from the bar until something clicked against my shoulder and stopped me. I looked for the source, and saw a blue mech, some three or four feet taller than me, his hand gently holding my shoulder.

"Two cubes, Nezzar." The mech looked down at me, blue eyes appraising. "Make that three."

The barkeeper hissed angrily through some flaps in his neck, then ducked under the bar and quickly produced three oversized glowing pink cubes. The blue mech moved forward and picked up two of them, tossing some little chips onto the bar in the process.

"You mind getting the other one?" he asked me in Cybertronian.

I nodded dumbly and rushed to pick up the cube as he returned to his dark table in the back, following him more out of desperation than anything else. The sight of the strangely colored energon had my lines aching.

I sat across from the heavily built mech and set down my cube, staring at it. It was pink. Was it spiked? Was there such thing as an energon roofie?

"Something wrong?" he asked, again in Cybertronian.

"No." Ha. My first spoken Cybertronian word. Why had none of the mechs on Earth used it? "Nothing, I'm just not used to… this." I pulled one of my last two energon rations from my hip and set it on the table. It was barely as long or as thick as two fingers.

He picked up the ration and examined it. "You from a solar farm?"

I nodded warily. It was close enough to true; Autobot City produced nearly all of its energon via solar panels.

"It's just the manufacturing process and a few trace minerals. Blue's good stuff, goes down smooth, but not much of a kick." He slid my ration back to me, and I tucked it away nervously.

He sipped from a fourth cube, one he'd apparently been working on already. "Try it."

I picked up the large cube I'd carried to the table and took a careful sip. The moment I felt it hit my tank I was ravenous for more, but it was the sizzle it made in my energon lines that made me raise it to my lips and drain the cube as quickly as I could.

I set the cube down, feeling sheepish. It wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but the heavily armored mech seemed to know that already. He pushed the second cube to me, so I took it with an embarrassed smile before making short work of it. The third cube crossed the table and I fought the urge to guzzle it, instead taking it and holding it in both hands.

I finally looked up at my benefactor. He was watching me expressionlessly, but I couldn't detect any malice or ill will in his attitude.

"Thank you," I said finally.

"You're welcome. Go ahead and finish that cube, I know you're dying to." His voice was rough, like he'd gotten grit in his vocal processors.

I obeyed, draining the third cube a little more slowly than the others. My tank sloshed as I leaned back in my chair, a very rich feeling.

"My name is Devcon," he offered, breaking our silence.

I found I was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with the mech. Optic contact… I literally shook myself. The word for them didn't matter as much as the fact that I was acting like a shy kid. He seemed amused by my reaction.

"Do you have a name?" He asked.

"Oh… yes. Bravura."

"Well, Bravura. What are you doing out in the open?"

I stiffened, squeezing my empty energon cube. "What do you mean?"

"I thought any femme who managed to survive the extermination would know better than to go stumbling into a busy space port… Though judging by your fuel crisis you've been roughing it all this time." He leaned over the table, and I saw the red Autobot symbol on his chest. My logic processors practically sighed with relief. I could trust him.

"I've been traveling a long time," I said finally.

"Why alone?"

I stared at him, and he shrugged. "Sorry. You probably didn't have a choice."

I shook my head, which was meant to say 'I did have a choice' but he read the gesture as agreement with his surmise.

"Where are you headed?" He said casually, mirroring my falsely relaxed posture and leaning back in his chair.

"Uh… I'm looking for someone."

"Oh?" He looked skeptical.

"Yes. He's… well, he's a Seeker." I looked up to see his reaction.

His optic ridges twitched down a barely perceptible degree. I wouldn't have noticed if I weren't so absorbed by the novelty of actually speaking with someone. Even my own voice fascinated me.

"Why do you want to find a Seeker? No, let me guess. You want revenge for someone he killed."

I shook my head. "No."

His expression hardened. "Then why?"

"He… well, he's an ex-Decepticon. He's my friend."

Devcon snorted. "Miss, I've been hunting Decepticons for the better part of the war, and I can tell you that you can never trust a Decepticon. They don't make friends."

He must've seen the pain in my optics, because he didn't push it any further.

"You should find an Autobot squad and ask them for protection. I don't know where you've been hiding, but it's not safe for a femme out here."

I smiled. "You're an Autobot. Can't you protect me?" I didn't mean it, but apparently he took it seriously.

"I'm a bounty hunter. I work alone, and the work's too dangerous anyway. You'd be no better than a moving target, following me around."

It wouldn't have surprised me if a real light bulb had appeared over my head. "But… you chase Decepticons for a living."

"That's what I just said."

For all intents and purposes, anyone who saw Skywarp would see a Decepticon Seeker. "Well… since I'm looking for one…"

He crossed his arms. "No."

I could feel my hope crumbling. "Please, just hear me out. I'm fast, I have my own weapons and I can be outfitted with more. I've got perfect control of my signature. Hell, I could even be bait."

"Hell? What's that?"

I realized I'd spat out the English word and reflexively covered my mouth. "Oh… just a word I picked up traveling."

He watched me impassively for so long that I had to force myself to look back evenly. I'd never been this shy before. A result of being alone for so long?

"You're right, I can't pick up even a sliver of signature. I guess that goes without saying, being in your position."

"What position?"

"You're a valuable piece of work, Bravura. How can you not know that?" He waited for an answer, so I shrugged, and he continued with an irritated tone. "The wrong people see you, and you're whisked off to someone's private museum as living art, if you're lucky. You might get sold to a scumbag Cybertronian who wants you for your shape, or as a novelty slave to some alien."

Were there enough femmes left for that to be happening out here? A thriving black market? Did Optimus know?

I didn't know what to say, so I just stared down at the empty energon cube between my hands.

Devcon hissed, so I looked up in alarm. Had I offended him?

He was glaring at the door. A small group of four mechs painted garish neon colors had just walked in, all but one of them at least as big as Ironhide.

"Look down at the table," Devcon whispered to me. "Don't move a micron, not even to look at them if they speak to you. Don't say a word."

I quickly looked back down at my cube, fear pulsing through me. Devcon wouldn't be worried if there weren't a reason, and he was an Autobot. He wouldn't give me away.

I listened as the mechs moved to the bar, ordering what sounded like far too much energon for the four of them. I was beginning to think we'd go unnoticed when one of them made a sort of 'whoop' sound and started clanking our way.

"If it isn't Devcon! What're you doing back in town so soon, you old burnout?"

"Had a good haul," the bounty hunter responded coolly.

"Ha! Not one of us has ever seen you take down a Con. You know, I'm starting to think you ought to retire."

"You work inside a miserable asteroid mining low quality magnesium. You never see anything."

A second mech joined the first. "I do see your little boyfriend here. Finally givin' up on buying yourself a femme some day?"

I stiffened, but stayed still. Boyfriend?

"Autobots don't make slaves out of anyone, especially not their own kind. You could learn something from that." Devcon sounded tired, but not angry.

"You Autobots are just as responsible, you know," a third mech said with the beginnings of disgust. "The Decepticons killed my mate when I was working the next system over, all because you glitches couldn't work things out."

"I'm here to relax, not debate politics," Devcon said easily.

It took every bit of self-control I had to remain still rather than look up at the mechs.

"What are you doing with him, if you're not copping out?" The second mech leaned close to me. "Doesn't look like anything special."

"He's not. Fried his vocal processors, bad audials, barely sees a thing. He's going to keep my skimmer in working order in exchange for protection and fuel."

All three of the mechs snorted. Where was the fourth? He still hadn't come over. Maybe he wasn't interested in egging on the bounty hunter.

One of the mechs got too close, and Devcon finally showed a sign of irritation. "Leave him alone, he's barely functioning in there. Surely you can have a little respect for a war casualty."

Ah, there was the fourth. "I don't think he's a war casualty." Judging by the timbre of his voice he was the smallest. "Something isn't right about him. My scanners are pickin' up something fuzzy around him. Like a hologram…"

A metal hand shot out and pushed me hard. I might've avoided it if I'd been allowed to look, but as it was I nearly spilled out of my chair. The other three mechs gasped.

Devcon stood up, putting himself between the mechs and me without saying a word. I leaned a little around him to peek. The littlest one was neon green, two of the big ones were orange, and one was yellow.

"A femme? How did you get your hands on a femme and why would you bring her here?"

I finally glanced up. The yellow one who'd said he'd lost his mate had just spoken. He seemed shocked. The other three were exchanging sneaky looks.

"Say, Devcon. Looks like you're a decent bounty hunter after all… How about sharing some of that good fortune with the rest of us?"

"If you mean buying you a round of energon, I'd be happy to."

"I was thinking more along the lines of something she could do for us."

I finally understood. My time in space had made me slow. They wanted to take turns with me. Devcon heard the tiny alarmed sound that escaped me and gave me a reassuring glance over his shoulder.

"Hey! Hey, you clanking trashcans!" The barkeep was barking at us in Common. "You wanna go blasting each other to bits, you take it outside!"

"Come on, Miss," Devcon said to me. "You heard the man. We're leaving."

I rose to my feet, earning a few whistles from the neutral mechs.

"We'll walk you out," one said, his greasy tone dripping with honey.

"We'll be fine, thanks," Devcon said, laying an arm over my shoulder possessively. I wanted to trust the mech. I dearly hoped he wasn't turning on me and the dominance he was putting off was all for show.

"No, really. We'd be happy to." Three of the four mechs were closing around us like hungry sharks. The yellow one looked uncertain.

"We should just go sit down, have a drink," he said pleadingly. He kept looking at me, at the fear I'm sure was written on my face. "Come on, we don't need to be like this."

"Put a wrench in it, Jumpline."

Devcon was guiding me to the door, his arm holding me tightly to his side. You say you have weapons? He sent silently through our touch.

Plasma gun, small laser cannon. Knives.

Laser cannon? Where are you hiding that?

Under the wings.

Wings? Never mind, they're following us.

He was right. Jumpline was still trying to talk them out of it, but the other three seemed determined to get what they wanted from me.

We left the bar, Devcon guiding me straight to the lift. He pushed me behind him, crowding the lift entrance to keep the other mechs from getting on. One of the big orange mechs gave him a push, but the solidly built Autobot didn't budge. The lift activated and we slowly slid down to the main level.

"They'll keep following. Look, I'll get you to a safe place, but then you have to go. I can't be dealing with this."

"What did you do earlier? They thought I was a mech!"

"I was projecting a hologram on you. It's not very intuitive, that's why you had to keep still."

The lift stopped on the main floor and Devcon immediately took me by the elbow, weaving quickly through the crowd with me in tow.

Now that my systems were restored on the energon that was rapidly flooding my lines, everything seemed less overwhelming, less quick. I kept up with Devcon easily, glancing over my shoulder for signs of the other mechs. I could see their neon paint on a lift just before it touched down.

Devcon dragged me back to the hangar, diving into an airlock and taking me with him just as it closed. Several surprisingly small creatures squealed at us, then shut their mouths and took on a froggy appearance as air and pressure were sucked out of the small room. How did they survive without suits?

No time to wonder. Devcon barreled through the door as soon as it was wide enough to admit him, once again pulling me along. I struggled out of his grip and ran alongside him as we sped up, though I had no idea where we were running.

He slid to a stop unexpectedly, forcing me to skid to a halt and turn back. He was plugging into a small ship that was already lowering a door to let him in. He motioned for me to join him, which I was quick to do. I was sure I was home free when a hand snatched one of my wings and yanked me back out of the ship.

Devcon had his back turned, so he didn't immediately realize I'd been caught. My shriek was stolen by space.

I twisted to see who managed to grab me, immediately realizing it was the smallish green mech. He was about my height, so not so small after all. How had he gotten here so fast? He wrenched my wing viciously, earning another silent scream from me even as I powered my laser cannon.

Funny that I call it a cannon. Skywarp had mentioned it once as a 'gun' and I suppose to someone his size that's all it was. To me, or at least to ten foot tall me, it was a whopping cannon.

That cannon was lying against my back, hidden by my wasp-like wings. As the mech tried to pull me away from Devcon's ship I forced myself to reach back and detach the cannon, angling it haphazardly and firing at the mech behind me.

The heat bounced off the mech as it struck him, searing my sensitive wings. It was worth it when he let go. The flash also drew Devcon's attention, and he arrived just as the three larger mechs did.

Once glance told me that Jumpline was still against the idea of 'borrowing' me from Devcon. He was dragging on one of the orange mechs, obviously arguing with him silently. The other mech pushed him away, and I turned my attention to the green mech and Devcon.

Devcon had him on his back, a vicious looking rifle inches from the stranger's face. I raised my laser to the bigger mechs and they slowed to a halt.

Come on, Devcon, one sent through a comm. I'd never seen activated before on my console. We won't damage her, we just want to have a little fun. Give us a break.

She's not my slave, you slaggers. She's a free bot, and she obviously doesn't want your grubby cables anywhere near here.

How about you let her speak for herself, then?

You sure you want that? I snarled. If you slaggers don't back off I'll cut off those grubby cables and shove them where the sun don't shine.

The mechs all seemed a little shocked at the vicious femme I'd suddenly turned into. Hot Rod was very interested in my anger and fear, so his emotional support helped me find my survival instincts again. God, two years in isolation had ruined me.

Look, we don't want to be the kind of mechs who terrorize helpless femmes, let's just go back.

I growled to myself. Helpless?

Shut the frak up, Jumpline, three voices snapped.

You should listen to your friend, Devcon and I said together. I looked at him in surprise, but he only smiled and ground his foot into the mech he held at gunpoint.

I'm going to let you up, Devcon said, and you'd better turn around and leave here without a word. If you so much as look at that femme I'll shoot out your optics.

He backed off of the mech, who looked as if he was torn between wounded pride and terror. He didn't give any protest, however, simply climbed to his feet and turned away, half running back to the airlocks.

Devcon leveled a serious, all-business stare on the three remaining mechs. Well?

One of the orange mechs gave me a glare so scathing I knew I'd made an enemy. I tried to mimic Devcon's expression, and soon the two orange mechs were gone.

The yellow mech, Jumpline, watched us with concern.

I'm sorry, Devcon. They're not bad mechs, not usually.

I know, Jump. The war brought out the worst in everyone. You just keep them in line, ok?

The big mech nodded. You take care of that femme. He looked at me. What's your name?

Devcon gave me a nod, so I offered Jumpline a tiny smile. My name's Bravura.

It's a relief to see there's hope for us yet. With that, Jumpline nodded to us both and turned to follow his friends.

I felt like I'd cheated the poor mech. The spark hidden in my chest was far from a beacon of hope; I couldn't produce a sparkling even if I'd wanted to. My body belied my actual usefulness to the species. In a way, I resented the implications. 'Hope' to him came in the form of me producing lots of sparklings. Barefoot and pregnant.

Devcon watched the acrimony play itself out on my face, then gestured for me to follow him to his ship. I obeyed without comment; His help was essential if I ever hoped to find Skywarp and the answers I needed.

R&R, lovelies :)