Hey everybody! I know it's been awhile, so welcome back! (And thank you all for your patience. I now work every day of the week, so I'm trying to finagle time to write. Good news is, my second job is at a library, so I get lots of good ideas. And also some bad ideas…)

Moving on! When last we left our intrepid adventurers, Bumblebee discovered that in the parallel world, he is a Godmaster: an extremely powerful hybrid lifeform made of a combination of Cybertronian and Organic. (A "fusion", to put it in Steven Universe terms)

Sari sank down onto the couch with a weary groan and looked over at the digital clock. 1:45 am. She'd considered just going to bed, but since she was sharing a room with Minerva, she didn't want to risk waking the younger girl. Surely nobody would mind if she crashed on one of the couches in the rec room, right? Just as she was about to lay down and close her eyes, Hawk leaned over the back of the couch.

"Pardon me, Sari, but do you have a moment? I know you're tired, but there was something I wanted to discuss with you earlier and I never got the chance to."

Nooooo just let me sleeeep! she wanted to groan, but this wasn't home and she wasn't sure she could get away with grumbling at an Autobot Commander she didn't know. So she straightened her spine a little and pasted on as much of a smile as an exhausted sixteen-year-old can manage.

"Oh, right," she said. "What is it?"

Hawk moved to sit beside her and steepled his fingers. His head drooped, cradled in between the fingers, and he spoke without looking at Sari. "Well, it kind of depends. From what I heard earlier, you're content with who you are and your dual heritage. Would you be willing to hear any further information on the subject, or would you prefer to let it rest?"

Suddenly, Sari was very, very awake. "You...know something about my past?"

There was a hint of suspicion in her voice, but who could blame her? This was a completely different universe, after all, with different rules and different histories. There was no need to get hopes up: what was true in one world might not hold true for another. Although, given that she had not physically changed the way Bumblebee and the Twins had, it was possible that one of the medical scans they'd all had might reveal some answers.

"Yes. Well, maybe." The grave man looked distinctly flustered and straightened his tie. "It's more of a hypothesis than an absolute fact at this point, but I am certain it's correct."

Sari tried to sit politely as the Autobot haltingly explained what protoforms were and where they came from, even though she was already well aware. She refrained from mentioning her prior knowledge as she felt sure that it would embarrass him to the point where he would lose his train of thought.

Clearing his throat several times, Hawk continued. "Of course, though we've always left the protoforms blank until a spark was ready to activate them, or until a certain class of worker was required -" an undertone of an age-old disgust twisted around the words "- Minicons were always in another...well, another "class" so to speak. Many of them now end up relegated to manual labor, or so I've heard from recent transmissions from Cybertron. During the earlier days during and just before the War, Minicon protoforms were activated immediately and taught to scan early, due to their usefulness as deployers and spies."

"So...you're saying I'm a Minicon?" Sari asked dubiously. She'd heard of the smaller Cybertronians before, but they were never discussed in detail at home.

"Minicon Pretender," Hawk corrected her. "Simply by scanning a human rather than a traditionally Cybertronian alt-mode, you've actually put yourself into two separate Cybertronian subcultures, should you ever feel like researching any "family history"." He leaned back and studied the ceiling for a moment, weary eyes opening and closing slowly.

"You know," he turned his gaze back to the girl, "You probably made a much better life for yourself by growing up human. I've no idea how your Cybertron is, but on mine, back before the War, if you were a Minicon you were basically limited to being something like a data stick or a camera or - well, I knew one fellow who was a laser pointer."

"You did not!" Sari protested. "For real?"

"And that is precisely what Shuta said," Hawk clucked his tongue and pretended to look disapproving. Then his gaze softened and he put a hand on the thin youngling's shoulder. "It's pretty clear that you are most familiar with your human body, though your instincts serve you well. If you ever find yourself with questions about your Cybertronian heritage - that is, provided you are still here - feel free to come to any one of us for aid."

It was a nice idea, though the attention was a trifle embarrassing, and Sari offered heartfelt thanks before catching an enormous yawn.

"And now, young lady," Hawk chuckled, "I think you'd better go to bed! I can bring a blanket and dim the lights if you'd prefer to sleep on the sofa."

Sari nodded, all residual energy depleted. As she fought to keep her eyelids up, she croaked that it'd be a shame to move and wake herself up again, seeing as she was already so comfortable on the couch. Hawk laughed and said he thought it sounded reasonable to him. From a fold-out compartment in the wall, he brought out a pale blue blanket made of fleece and handed it to Sari.
"Goodnight, Sari," he said pleasantly.

She managed a creaking squeak before drifting off.

"Hey! Wake up, Squirt!"

A large hand shook Bumblebee awake at 7:00 the next morning. Every instinct in his human body was telling the boy to burrow further under the covers and stay where it was warm. Why and oh why did humans need so much time to recharge?! The hand shook him again, and so, in a rather foul mood, Bumblebee slid out of the bunk and found himself squinting blearily up at Ginrai.

"What?" he groaned. Or rather, he tried to groan. It really sounded more like, "Mrwaaa?"

The college-aged Godmaster grinned and looked Bumblebee over. "Really? You slept in your clothes?" he teased.

"I don't have any others," Bee answered plainly.

"Oh."

Now Ginrai felt sheepish. He ran a hand over his short black hair - trimmed neatly for the first time in months, courtesy of Phoenix - and cleared his throat. "Right, ah….anyway, get some food in you. We've got a long drive ahead of us."

"We? What? Wait, where are we going?" Bumblebee demanded. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, and carefully pulled the yellow ballcap over his cloud of hair.

"Canada, kiddo!" Ginrai called over his shoulder. "Got a buddy up there who can check your transtector out, make sure he's running right." He sounded entirely too cheerful for having been up fighting most of the night.

Bumblebee found he could scarcely move his limbs, especially after everything he'd done last night. Humans were much more fragile than he gave them credit for, having hung around Sari so often. "Owwww I am so sorrrre!" he groaned, collapsing into a chair. "Is it always like this, being a Godmaster?"

Ginrai poured a glass of orange juice and handed three ibuprofen to the boy with a sympathetic hum. "First transformation is rough, once you come down off the adrenalin kick. Give your mind and body time to adjust to the idea of having two bodies, and maybe build up some muscles, and it won't be quite as taxing."

The sound of running feet caught their attention as the three middle-school Autobots came charging in.

"Hi Ginrai, hi Bumblebee!" Minerva threw open the refrigerator and pulled out a lunchbox with her name stitched onto it.

Ginrai smiled at the twelve year old and without even looking pulled his mug of coffee up into the air. "No, Cab, you can't have any." he said dryly.

"Awwww!" the slight figure hunched over in a pout. He took his own lunch from the fridge and shoved it into a messenger bag, all the while grumbling about school uniforms and not being allowed to wear tunics.

Shuta wandered in moments later, glanced at the clock, and yelped. In a flurry of movement he grabbed his lunchbox and shoved an entire cinnamon roll into his mouth.

"Brr Grrnrrr! Brrr Brrbrrbrrr!" he tried to say around the sweet.

"Bye," Ginrai drawled with an amused look as the three darted out the door to their vehicles. "Be good at school, by which I mean don't kill anyone, okay?"

"No promises!" Cab yelled out the window of his firetruck transtector.

The older boy laughed and shook his head. "I don't even wanna imagine what those three are gonna be like when they hit highschool."

Bumblebee glanced at the doorway. "We homeschooled Sari. I don't think we ever had mornings like that!"

With a sigh, Ginrai pushed back his chair and threw on his leather jacket. "Well, time to go. It'll take us three days, give or take, so we'll stop and get you some new clothes on the way."

(a/n: I did a little math here. If a trucker is only allowed to be behind the wheel for 11 hours a day, and I'm assuming a speed of 70 mph, he could make it about 770 miles a day, not counting pit stops. British Columbia is 2,162 miles from Detroit, so it would take about 2.81 days to get there. Keeping stops in mind, I rounded it to 3. Look ma, I do remember how to do math!)

"Wait! Don't I get to say goodbye to Sari?" Bumblebee squawked. Three days was an awfully long time to be away. What if something were to happen?

"She's still sleeping in the rec room, kiddo." the older Autobot shrugged. "So if she's not the kind to kill you for disturbing her rest, then sure. If she is, though, you should just call her while we're on the road. We have vid chat you know."

"'Kay, fine," Bumblebee grumbled and shuffled along behind Ginrai. Once the transtector was safely loaded into the trailer of Ginrai's truck, the two set out.

Bumblebee had never realized how boring driving could be when he wasn't the car. He couldn't feel the road under his tires, or the wind against his paint job. It was basically just like sitting on the couch at home, except with crash restraints and monotonous music that Ginrai seemed to be enjoying.

This was going to be a long trip.

"Captain, a word?"

Lander leaned against the doorframe of Hawk's office, affecting a casual air as he glanced into the darkened room. Hawk had his back to him, seemingly lost in thought as he gazed up at an ancient sword mounted on the wall. It was simple in design, and had once seen much use, but was well cared-for. Hawk traced two fingers over the hilt and turned to face his comrade.

"It's today," he said simply, keeping one hand on the sword. Somehow, Lander seemed to understand just what he was talking about and nodded.

"This makes it, what? Some 765 years now?" he shook his head with a smile, and the lights in the hallway reflected little spots off of his glasses and into the room. "I don't believe you've ever forgotten any of the humans you've aided over the centuries, have you? I mean, I didn't forget the incident either, but that was because those two boys we saved had such a pretty sister."

There was a twinkle of mischief in both Lander's eyes and voice as he recalled how the Pretenders had come to settle in Japan during the Kamakura period, and the oft unlooked-for adventures they'd found themselves in. They'd stayed there until the late 1920s before moving on to one of the many other countries they'd lived in.

Shaking off his brief trip down memory lane, Lander recalled the original purpose of his visit. "Metalhawk, it's about the Visitors."

The use of his Cybertronian name warned Hawk that Lander wasn't joking around now. He turned to give the man his full attention. "Yes, Lander? What about them?"

Lander took his glasses off and began to polish them on his sleeve. "Well, quite honestly I don't think you've prepared them enough for what they're going to face here. I know you said the twin boys are Pretenders - astounding, by the by - and we've all just discovered that the other boy's a Godmaster, but it seems like the girl is the only one who knows how to handle herself against something three stories taller than her. Shouldn't we at least be telling them which Cons to run away from?"

He sighed at his friend's questioning look. "I just don't like the idea of one of those children trying to take on King Poseidon alone, or - Primus help them - Overlord. I think they deserve to know that there are Decepticons we won't allow the Headmaster Juniors to face. Decepticons we won't allow them to face."

It was a blow - however slight - to his enthusiasm, but a needed one. Hawk had to admit to himself that he had been so taken with the idea of a new generation of his culture that he'd pushed all thoughts of combat from his mind. He had been caught up with thoughts of sharing histories, legends, customs with these newcomers as he had once done with the Headmaster Juniors. But Lander was right: sooner or later - sooner, given that they had settled in Detroit for the moment - the Visitors would find themselves facing a threat too great to deal with. At the end of the day, they were only children, and he could not - would not - expect them to fight his battles for him.

"You're right, old friend." he acknowledged humbly. "I will speak with the Twins and Miss Sumdac this afternoon. Bumblebee is on the road with Ginrai for the next few days, so one can only hope our young Commander remembers to pass the word along."

Lander chuckled and was about to say something when the telephone on the desk rang. He shook his head and smiled as he backed out of the room, listening to Hawk's voice.

"Hello, Hawk speaking. Yes, this is the guardian of Shuta Go. He what? Thank you, principal, I assure you I'll be there in minutes."

Grumbling, the Pretender hurried out of the office and past Lander. "On second thought, will you talk to the Visitors? I've got to run up to the middle school. Apparently Shuta threw up all over a teacher in the hallway and he's being confined to the nurse's office."

Ah, the joys of being human.

On the road…

Bumblebee was starting to get the hang of this road trip business. Apparently, when you were unable to be the vehicle yourself, you were supposed to distract yourself from this tragic fate by staring out the window or amusing yourself with witty radio shows or digital recordings of books.

After two radio shows, one pit stop, a power metal album and a Shakespearean actor reading Horseradish: Bitter Truths you Can't Avoid by Lemony Snickett, the radio was blessedly silent.

The yellow cap lay discarded on the seat between driver and passenger, and the air conditioning roared bad-temperedly as the scenery blurred around them. Bumblebee strained against his seatbelt, stretching up as high as he could get without actually taking off the belt and standing up, so that he could look into the mirror on the fold-down visor. He'd given up making faces at himself and trying to figure out why he needed a nose at all - somehow as an Autobot, his olfactory sensors had worked just fine without an actual representation of them on his faceplate! - and now was attempting to do something about his hair.

He'd tried to help Sari with her hair once - once, mind you - a year or two ago. It had been such an unmitigated disaster that he was leery of trying to do anything to his own now-human scalp. Still, he'd never had hair before. It was a new experience! Shouldn't he at least try to experiment, so that when all this mess was cleared up, he'd be more helpful the next time Sari had a bad hair day?

The small Autobot's face was twisted into a look of deep concentration as he did his best to twist his hair into puffs. It occurred to him a moment later that he actually had nothing to hold said puffs in place. Well, maybe the next time they stopped to fill up the rig, he could see if the gas station sold any of those cloth hairbands Sari used to wear.

"I think," he said, "That this human hair stuff needs moisturizing. I didn't think being human required as much maintenance as it does!"

Ginrai did not answer, and when Bumblebee looked up at the older boy, he seemed preoccupied with the view, even though the dimming light was beginning to eclipse the scenery.

"Three hours to Sioux Falls, kid," Ginrai muttered after a few minutes of silence. Then he sighed wistfully.

"What's wrong?" Bumblebee asked. He sat back in his seat and fanned himself idly with the ballcap as he glanced over at Ginrai.

Warm eyes found his a moment later and blinked, confused. "What? No, nothing's wrong." Ginrai squinted in the twilight. "Why would you think that?"

Bumblebee squirmed in his seat a little. "Well, I mean, Ratchet makes the same sound when he's remembering stuff. Or when he's sad about something. So I figured it was one of the two and I had a fifty-fifty shot."

"Fair enough," the other agreed easily, "Who's Ratchet?"

"Team medic, old grumpy guy," the younger boy said with a shrug.

Ginrai made a sour face and without looking, reached over and jerked the hat away from Bee, whacking him with it. "And you're comparing me to that guy?! I thought I was the cool one!" he teased. Clearing his throat, the trucker ran a hand over his smooth jaw for a moment, then sighed. "I was just missing the road I guess. I used to drive a lot more before I became a Godmaster."

There was a crinkling of plastic as Bumblebee dug around in a small bag on the seat for a moment and popped a handful of trail mix into his mouth. He studied Ginrai for a moment and blurted out, "Yeah, how'd that happen, anyway?"

"It was pretty straightforward, actually," Ginrai admitted. "I was coming home after making a delivery, and my rig broke down. Stopped at a junkyard and found this truck in perfect shape, but being sold for a ridiculously cheap price. Folks thought it was haunted or something. Anyway, I got it for a steal, headed back out on the road with it. Naturally, that's when things got weird…"

Four years ago…

The weather was unusually pleasant, with a gentle breeze to mitigate the heat of the sun. The treetops bobbed and nodded politely to one another as little gusts of wind rushed through them, and cast dappled shadows on the road. A red and blue cab-over-engine semi truck rumbled down the highway at a comparatively leisurely pace, matching the mood of its young driver.

Ginrai hung one arm casually out the window to soak up the sunlight, and with his other hand he tapped out a simple rhythm on the steering wheel, keeping time to the merry tune he whistled. As far as he was concerned, life was good.

He had a new rig, the sun was shining, and he'd even had a conversation - a full conversation! - with his father on the phone! Granted, it had been stilted and awkward, as they hadn't spoken in a year or two - not since he'd announced his intentions to become a truck driver, anyway. All the same, though he wouldn't admit it out loud, it had been good to hear his father's voice again.

For all his bluster about needing space and independence, Ginrai was a bit concerned about his old home. Apparently, some folk were hanging around the place and making trouble for his dad, trying to convince him to sell the land. "Sparkplug" Tsukino was a tough man, though. Ginrai figured he could handle it.

Sunlight glimmered off of the gold cuff on his wrist, dazzling his eyes for a moment.

Oh yeah...so maybe that part of the day wasn't quite so grand.

No sooner had he taken the truck to a gas station to fill it up and rinse it off than he'd felt what could only be described as something tugging on his mind, drawing him to the glove compartment. There'd been a sphere inside, almost like a vending-machine prize. Resting in the carefully -sculpted interior of the ball were two golden bracelets of some kind. He'd only been goofing off, still running on the enthusiasm of getting a new (slightly used) rig for so cheap, when he put them on his wrists.

Except now they wouldn't come off. He'd tried almost everything, but he still had a destination to reach and couldn't distract himself from driving too much. Ginrai decided to try soap to get them off once he reached home. Or, if all else failed, maybe he'd get his friend Billy to cut them off with a hacksaw. Ginrai cast an uneasy glance at his hands. On second thought, better stick with the soap. Billy was a great guy, but not entirely trustworthy with sharp objects.

The driver pulled his arm back inside the cab and let out a gusty sigh, turning his attention once more to the road. Focused as he was on the asphalt in front of him and the problem on his wrists, he nearly missed the policeman waving at him some 700 ft away. There was no one else on the road, but just to be on the safe side Ginrai flipped on his turn signal and pulled off onto the shoulder, gravel crunching under his tires. Once parked, he hopped out and walked towards the officer at an easy pace.

"Afternoon, officer," he called. He almost smiled as he found himself unconsciously mimicking his own father's vocal inflections - remembering the way Sparkplug always spoke to policemen - "What can I do for you?"

The patrolman - a razor-thin caucasian with a slightly haggard face - wiped his brow and offered a tired smile. "Well, as ironic as this may be, I wonder if I might ask you for help? Admittedly, it's a little embarrassing, but-" with a grimace that seemed almost pained, he gestured towards a black and gold motorcycle with an official-looking insignia on it.

"Ah, that's alright!" Ginrai assured the man, "Is it engine trouble?"

"It won't start," grumbled the police officer. His arms tightened across his chest. "And believe me, I've exhausted all options available to me." He stepped back in a kind of silent invitation, and Ginrai took the cue.

"I grew up around machines," he offered.

The officer laughed. "So did I."

"Well, I tend to keep a tool kit on-hand, just in case," Ginrai continued gamely, "Mind if I take a look?"

All formality, of course. He knew as well as the other that the question had already been asked and answered in a way. As he retrieved his tool kit from the truck, the policeman followed at his elbow, introducing himself.

"My name is Prowl, by the way. I'm obliged to you, young man."

Ginrai gave a little half-smile and hefted his toolbox. "Prowl, eh? Can't say I've heard of that as anything more than a nickname before. First name or last?"

"Yes."

The trucker blinked at the odd reply, but shook it off with a smile and offered Prowl his free hand. "Ginrai Tsukino. Just Ginrai is fine."

The sun no longer seemed quite as pleasant when it beat down upon Ginrai's unprotected head and back while he knelt next to the uncooperative motorcycle. Sweat rolled down his neck and forehead, dripping into his eyes and stinging. Finally, after perhaps 20 minutes of tinkering, he stood, hands braced against the small of his back as he stretched.

"Well, Officer Prowl, that's one advanced bike you've got there! I've never seen most of those modifications before. Tell you what though, you're gonna need a new sparkplug. We're not too far from a town if you want to load this thing in the back of my truck. I can drop you at a repair place."

Behind his inscrutable sunglasses, Prowl raised an eyebrow. "That's very kind of you, Ginrai, but I'm sure you've got somewhere to be and-"

"Nah," Ginrai cut him off, only stopping to think of the problems with interrupting a policeman moments later, "I'm literally delivering empty crates. That's what's in the trailer. Nobody'll mind if we put the bike in the back and detour slightly. Come on, I'll get the ramp down."

Seeing that the young human would not be persuaded otherwise, Prowl stopped protesting and loaded the motorcycle into the back of the truck, trying not to show physical discomfort as the vehicle scraped against some of the crates.

As he moved out of the way for Ginrai to close up the trailer, he noted the shine of gold on the younger man's wrists. Impossible! Where did those come from?! he stared in amazement.

"Ginrai," Prowl said bluntly, "Where did you get those cuffs?"

Ginrai flushed scarlet and tried to play it cool. "Oh, these things? Found 'em in the glove compartment when I bought the rig. Snug fit though; I'm gonna have to get them off with soap when this run is over!"

Prowl studied the bracelets, so familiar in shape, if not color, and shook his head. "I'm familiar with the craftsmanship. You won't be able to get them off that way. In fact, I highly doubt you'll be able to get them off at all."

There was something about this man that was making Ginrai uneasy, and his words didn't sit right with the trucker. "What do you mean, "at all"?" he tried to keep his voice level. Shouting at a police officer was probably not a good life choice, after all. "They're just stuck, right?"

"They're more than just stuck, my young friend," Prowl's smile was more sad than friendly. "Those are Masterforce braces. They have a form of bio-coding that only allows them to be worn by one specific individual that they somehow choose. And I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, but they're bonded to you now."

Ginrai shifted and swallowed hard. "Geez, tone it down a little, Doctor Who," he muttered under his breath. Policeman or not, this Prowl character was starting to make him feel very uncomfortable. "What's this all about then? Aliens?"

"Yes."

It was crazy. He was crazy. He had to be! Because Ginrai had the cognitive roadblocks of several generations in place, telling him that aliens did not exist. He had been quite comfortable in his state of not-contemplating the existence of extraterrestrials, and he had no intention of starting now.

Because if aliens existed, then he needed to consider the implications for all the other things he had been ignoring as non-existent.

"You…" Ginrai blew out a breath in a sharp huff and raked his fingernails across his scalp. "You're crazy. This isn't X-Files, okay? Tell you what: why don't you stay here, and I go get a tow truck, okay? Yeah, let's do that."

He turned away from the man standing in the gravel and moved to unhook the cab from the trailer.

"Ginrai, I-"

Whatever Prowl had been about to say was drowned out in the roar of a fighter jet. A pair of Panavia Tornado GR1 fighters screamed overhead, their paint schemes an outlandish blue for one and purple for the other.

"What the...since when are military planes painted like that?" Ginrai observed.

Behind the visor, a pair of ice blue optics contracted, suspicious and concerned. "They aren't," Prowl answered grimly. "I would advise you to step back and try to find shelter."

Then he turned away from the trucker and crossed his wrists in front of his chest. "SUIT ON." he commanded, prompting the appearance of gold and black armor covering the whole of his body. After running a brief diagnostic on the armor, Prowl shouted, "PRETENDER" and switched off the mass-displacement technology that allowed him to convincingly mimic the size of a human.

Ginrai collapsed in the dirt, mouth hanging open like a venus flytrap. "That...is...wait what?!" he managed after a moment. A thousand lines of thought ran through his head all at once, making it impossible to know what he was feeling at the moment. In desperation to say something, to have some kind of explanation, Ginrai seized the first thread of thought he could latch onto and blurted it out.

"Well then what did you even need the bike for?!" he squawked.

Prowl - who still looked remarkably like the human Ginrai thought he'd been talking to - smiled a little ruefully down at him. "Well, I find it does help maintain cover."

The truth was, he didn't normally need the motorcycle at all. But he'd been a little run-down lately: Metalhawk had been right, he had been pushing himself too hard in their search for the Decepticons hiding on the North American continent, and the others had been too busy with the Headmaster Juniors to keep him on a normal refueling and recharging schedule. So Metalhawk had insisted that he use a human vehicle rather than his alt mode until his systems had time to repair the damage that weariness and low power had done to his synapses and muscle strands.

Well, one could only hope that at least some damage had been repaired, because Prowl was out of time. He watched the approaching jets with a calculating eye and took a deep, calming draught of atmosphere through his central intakes. Using an old Metallikato exercise taught to him by Master Yoketron of Cybertron, Prowl slowed his spark-pulse to a more relaxed beat and moved his arms into a guarded stance.

The jets abruptly transformed into what was by all appearances a pair of young Decepticons. The younger-looking of the two, the blue one, looked Prowl over with a scornful sneer.

"Oh look," he scoffed. "What's this? A Pretender?" The sneer became a mean-spirited smile. "This ought to be fun."

"Yes, yes it ought." the older purple one agreed, though he seemed to have a look of permanent boredom stamped across his face.

With neither warning nor provocation, the two opened fire on Prowl. Already low on energon reserves and with a slower reaction time than usual, Prowl's attack and defense were far weaker than they should have been. While he was able to avoid the majority of the laser and machine-gun rounds - odd for a Decepticon - a few still caught him in places like his left shoulder and his right knee. Despite Processor over Matter, it was still painful enough to slow him down more.

The Autobot flung a handful of shurikens at his taller opponents, hoping to at least jam a weapon or blind an optic. The throwing stars bounced off of their armor with no more force than gnats striking a window, and they clattered to the asphalt. The young jets glanced at each other, then back at Prowl and chuckled.

"So this is the strength of an Autobot?" the purple one tilted his head as if examining a particularly interesting stain on one's t-shirt. "I don't know what the others made such a big deal over. This pitiful robocop barely even classes as a threat!"

Crouched by the tires of his rig, Ginrai watched the blue jet - smaller than the purple - circle around behind the weakened Autobot, fists raised. He had the urge to call out a warning, but he knew perfectly well that it wouldn't have done much good at this rate.

"Hey Hydra," the slightly shorter Decepticon grinned, slamming a fist into the palm of his other hand, "Want to play basketball?"

The purple one - Hydra - cracked his knuckles and shook out his arms. "Why, I'd be delighted, Buster," he said in a mockery of politeness.

Buster pulled back his fist and struck Prowl full force in the back of the helm before the ninja had a chance to turn around. Cursing himself for not giving himself time to heal before, Prowl hit the pavement with a crack. Buster looked a little disappointed that the Autobot didn't immediately get back up and start fighting again, but soon discovered that he could still play his favorite "game" with his victim.

Scooping up the smaller mech, Buster bent his knees and then launched Prowl into the air for all the world like the most ungainly basketball of all time. Hydra caught him by the throat with one hand and drove his fist into the mech's midsection before tossing him back to his brother. The sadistic game of catch continued for a good two minutes before they carelessly dropped Prowl on the ground between them, where he lay barely able to move.

"What….are….you?" he gasped.

These could not be normal Decepticons. Their upper body strength was entirely wrong for them to be Seekers, and they were far too young to have been part of Dauros, Blood, and Gilmer's original band. No, they had to be something else.

"Godmasters, if you must know," said Hydra arrogantly. "And we are superior to your dear Headmaster units in every possible way."

Headmaster units? Why would they bring up the Headmasters unless - Prowl froze as his slightly lagging processor finally put all the pieces together.

The "falling stars" with halved Cybertronian life-signals.

The disproportionate amount of transtectors without bonded pilots in the headquarters database.

The odd energy signatures that kept appearing and disappearing.

The unusual taunts the Decepticon Pretenders had been throwing at them lately.

The Decepticons had a new weapon: some form of human/Cybertronian combination that was a more complete hybrid than a Headmaster unit. Prowl could only hope that they hadn't gotten their hands on more transtectors to furnish this new subspecies with.

For ten agonizingly slow seconds, Prowl debated with himself over whether or not he should address Ginrai outright. Surely it would be folly to alert these frightfully powerful beings to the presence of the human. But then again, the boy had master-braces bonded to his wrists. That, at least, would afford him some little protection against these villainous boys.

A fair amount of his energon was pooling on the cracked asphalt beneath him now, and his movements were shaky and halting as he raised a hand.

"G-Ginrai!" he rasped, throat dented inwards with the force of Hydra's grip, "C-cross your wrists so the braces touch! The activation code is Masterforce-Transform. The cuffs will trigger the right code after that!"

Hydra noted his victim's attempts with some slight amusement. Had they found another Headmaster then? No matter. They'd kill him before he had a chance to figure out the power he held in his hands.

Buster lifted Prowl's battered and bleeding chassis from the ground by the ankle. "Hey, shut up!" he growled, and flung the Autobot off the highway and into a pile of rock. Prowl twitched once and lay still.

With a proud twitch of his wings, Buster turned back to his brother. His mandible-like mouthplates retracted in a bizarre grin as he boasted, "See? That wasn't so hard. I can't imagine why the Decepticon Pretenders have failed to kill the Autobots all these years."

"Now now, Buster," Hydra purred in a mildly scolding tone, "Mustn't get cocky, now must one? This Autobot was on the verge of exhaustion to begin with."

As they debated how much of a threat Prowl had been, Ginrai retreated to the nose of his truck cab, as far from the odd pair as he could get. There, he crossed his wrists and repeated the activation sequence in a whisper.

"Masterforce, Transform!" he hissed while clinking the cuffs together. As if something else was talking through him, a third code left his lips before he could stop it. "God On!"

At once, the world seemed to collapse inwards on itself. He felt a great tugging on all his limbs as his sight darkened, and it briefly occurred to him that he might be dying. Seconds later, his vision cleared up. Correction, it did more than just "clear up". Ginrai felt as though he had been wandering around with less than 20/20 vision for his whole life and had just put on glasses for the first time: everything was sharper and clearer than it had ever been before.

And smaller. Much smaller.

When the world finally stopped spinning, he found himself looking out of crystalline optics at his own hands - not flesh, as he would have expected, but a gleaming cobalt blue metal. It did not escape his notice that this gigantic robot body was the same colors as his semi rig, nor did he fail to notice that said rig and trailer were nowhere to be seen. Ginrai flexed his fingers, and marveled at the way the metal body responded instantly. This wasn't a dream, this wasn't armor, this was him. Somehow, he was the robot, and yet he still felt the warmth of the sun, the texture of the gravel beneath his feet, and a turbid combination of fear and anger directed at the purple and blue "Decepticons", whatever those were.

Were they men in suits as well? How many other man/robot hybrids were there? It was just as well that Hydra and Buster moved to inspect him, distracting him from his thoughts, or else he might've run the risk of losing his mind in trying to comprehend it all.

"It...it's another Godmaster! It has to be!" Buster gasped, optics widening. Well this changed matters completely!

Easing forward, the more volatile of the two brothers held a hand out. "Come with us, Brother. This has all been a misunderstanding. We'll make sure y- hey!" he ducked as Ginrai swung a heavy fist at him.

"That's for starting a fight in the middle of the road. You could have totaled my truck!" Ginrai said, unsure of what else to do. "Oh, and for assaulting a police officer, I guess."

Buster glared at the newly minted Godmaster and shrugged off Hydra's restraining hand. "Already picked a side, huh? Well you're gonna regret that." He held his hands over the ground, fingers splayed out, and dramatically shouted, "Energos Power: Ter'a!"

Does everyone yell their attacks before making them around here? Ginrai wondered, but he didn't have time to ask it aloud. Bright streams of some vaporous material rose from the rocks around them and flowed into the blue Decepticon's hands. Buster thrust his hands out before him in a forceful push, and Ginrai was thrown clear off the highway and onto the edge of a tiny strip of grass attempting to overtake the rocks and sand.

It was quite a new experience to see error messages popping up - not so much before his eyes as in his mind, and yet perfectly visible to him - and it suddenly occurred to Ginrai that he did not seem to need to breathe in this body. If he had, he'd certainly have had the wind knocked out of him. Hydra and Buster seemed to double, then quadruple as they stalked towards him, and he shook his helm to clear it, teeth gritted behind a solid mouth plate.

"It's a shame," Hydra was saying as they stood over Ginrai. "Our…..hmm...Buster, is mother the right word?"

"She seems to think so," the younger hybrid muttered. Hydra shrugged gamely.

"Our mother - well really more our transtectors' generator, but she doesn't see a difference - would have been so thrilled to welcome another of her children home. Even if it had bonded with a scruffy truck driver. But you've gone and declared for the other side, haven't you? Don't bother denying it. I can see it in your eyes."

His mock sorrowful expression turned into a sadistic grin as he leaned down, blaster at the ready. "Oh we couldn't break her heart with news like this, now could we? Better to just wipe you from existence so that no one ever knows about the "black sheep"."

Ginrai couldn't make up his mind as to whether the robot-men were suffering a case of mistaken identity, general insanity, or some form of intoxication.

"You're certifiable!" he rasped, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

It was pretty clear that he was out of options. Ginrai looked down at his hands and thought, At this point, what could it hurt? Without really thinking about it, he blurted out, "Energos Power: Ter'a!"

It felt, he decided, a little like the time he had consumed four Mountain Dews in a span of thirty minutes, combined with an extreme adrenalin rush as power raged through his body and shot out of his hands like cannon fire.

Buster and Hydra were each struck full force with a beam and sent helm over pedes tumbling across the highway, ripping up the majority of the asphalt in the process. This blast had been twice the strength of Buster's, making the first attack look almost like child's play. Hydra had the unpleasant feeling that they'd gravely underestimated their opponent. Time to recuperate and study the enemy was required.

"Buster, I think a tactical retreat is in order," he ground out through gritted denta.

"This isn't over, Godmaster. Not by a long shot," Buster spat at Ginrai before taking off after his elder brother.

Ginrai stared in bewilderment at the space they had just occupied for several seconds, not really processing any of what just happened. "Huh." was all he said. A faint groan from his left reminded him of the other participant in the skirmish and he hauled himself to his feet with some small effort. Trudging over to the pile of rock, Ginrai helped the smaller mech up.

"How're ya feeling?" he asked. "I mean, provided you actually do feel."

"No need to be rude," Prowl attempted a smile, but winced. "Just because we're not flesh and bone doesn't mean we don't feel. As I'm sure you've discovered by now." His face fell. "Thank you, young man, for stepping in on my behalf. But this means that the Decepticons will mark you as one of us now - as an Autobot. I'm sorry." He refrained from remarking upon the young Godmaster's remarkable resemblance to the Autobot leader - whom their team had not heard from in centuries - as he was certain the words would mean nothing to the boy.

Ginrai shrugged and muttered some inconsequential nicety about standing up to bullies and looked around awkwardly, not sure what to do now.

"You...seem to be taking this remarkably well for someone who's never transformed before," Prowl remarked suspiciously. Ginrai laughed and shook his helm.

"Me? Oh no. It just hasn't hit me yet. By tonight I'll be a useless pile of shaking nerves, I guarantee it." A thought struck him and his optics narrowed. "Um...how do I turn back into a human, by the way?"

Pretender Base, Present Day

Jetfire collapsed on the floor with a groan and did not move. Being a human was so hard! Training made all these little fleshy moving parts - muscles and organs, apparently - hurt a lot! Being metal was simpler.

"Cab, I am not playing the tag with you anymore!" Jetfire complained. "I think it is not being real training!"

The blue-haired boy pretended to be scandalized. "Of course it is!" he shouted indignantly, "It's stealth and avoidance training! It's not my fault you're so bad at it."

Minerva tskd from the couch, where Sari was braiding her hair into something more battle-functional. "Leave him alone, Cab. You know he's not used to that human body!"

She was sweating too. When she and Cab had come home from school, Phoenix and Lander had put them and the Visitors through a long tutorial of Decepticons You Never Ever Fight. It had ended with a mandatory training session to teach them to avoid Decepticon jets while on foot. The only reason Shuta hadn't joined them was because he was still throwing up, and Hawk had forbidden him to leave the sick bay.

Jetstorm sat down on the floor beside his twin and took off his helmet, wiping his brow with a sigh. "So," he looked up at the others. "On a scale of - hmmm, saying - one to ten, how in disguise are we being as Robots in Disguise? Are all the battles in the human cities?"

For a moment, it seemed as though Minerva would answer. They were all interrupted by Metalhawk and Lander entering the rec room with bottles of water, which they passed to the teenagers.

"Do you know anything about superheroes, meine jungen freunde?" Phoenix asked them, one brow raised. "We are a little like that, we Pretenders. We do not let on that our human bodies and our natural bodies are the same person. But on the other hand, the humans of the city are all quite aware of our existence as alien robots."

"Yes," Hawk said dryly, "We have Ginrai to thank for that."

Jetstorm nodded his thanks for the answer to the older Pretender jet, but he was too busy gulping down water to verbalize his gratitude.

Beside him on a chair, Cab threw back his head and groaned. "I remember that! Thanks to Ginrai, none of us got to leave the base for days until Hawk could figure out how security was going to work!"

"Sounds like a story!" Sari remarked as she finished winding Minerva's braid into a bun.

"Oh believe me, it was."

Two years earlier:

Metalhawk seemed to take the news well, at first.

He cycled a deep intake of atmosphere through his vents, then ran his servos over his gold helm. His wings twitched a little bit. Then he cycled through the mass conversion sequence to go back to his human disguise and left the training room.

Very, very calmly, he walked to his office, followed by a somewhat apprehensive Prowl, and picked up a pencil. As he tapped it restlessly on his desk, he turned to face Prowl.

"Are we being punished for something?" he asked flatly.

"If we are, old friend, it must be for something dreadful," Prowl groused in return.

For thousands of years, the Pretenders had kept the Autobots' presence on Earth a secret. They were a myth, a bedtime story. They had gone by many names, inspired many folk tales, but never once did they willingly reveal their true forms to humanity. And yet somehow, in only two months, the boy they had taken in - part of some new human/Cybertronian hybrid that Prowl called a "godmaster" - had managed to undo most of that.

"He's been caught on a cellphone camera twice, during that unfortunate incident with the Seacon and the oil rig. Then there was the matter of him stopping to wave at twenty schoolchildren on their field trip while scouting a quarry. Oh, but that's all perfectly reasonable, isn't it? Or at the very least, I can explain it away as his human heritage getting the better of him."

Prowl raised a placating hand, but Hawk was on a roll.

"But the children also are human, and yet they know to keep our existence a secret. And what does our young godmaster friend do?" Hawk slammed the pencil down on the desk, snapping it in half. "He appears on live television for an interview, asking potential godmasters to contact him! Does he not understand how much danger he's put us all in?!"

The other Pretenders lingered in the hallway, listening to their commander shout. Metalhawk was usually such a calm spark, saving his aggression for battle, that to see him so angry was a rare and worrisome sight. Diver slammed his fist into his palm and muttered sharp invective against their newest Autobot, thoroughly agreeing with Metalhawk. Lander sipped at his drink and watched the proceedings with interest, glad that the Headmaster Juniors had gone to see a movie and would not return until well after Hawk's anger had abated.

Phoenix, on a short vacation from his day job in Bavaria, ambled up to the small gathering and raised his wooly eyebrows. "Now what's all the commotion about, eh?" he asked with a curious smile. "What could possibly have angered our fearless leader this much?"

"The new ally," Lander answered dryly."

"The soon to be dead new ally," Diver corrected with a dark look.

"Faszinierend!" Phoenix beamed. "It's not just anyone that can make both of you lose your cool. I've been so busy at the airfield that I haven't had time to meet this junge. As soon as he returns, I think I'll have to make his acquaintance."

"Yes, provided he lives long enough to meet you," Hawk remarked impassively. He stepped around the desk, sat down in his chair, and turned his back to the rest of the team, signaling that the conversation was over. Once Prowl had shooed the other three away, Hawk gingerly picked up a remote and turned on the television in his office. He really didn't want to do this, but he needed to know just how much damage control he was going to have to do.

And whether or not he actually did have to worry about Diver killing Ginrai.

"Well, of course, it's fairly obvious that Diver didn't kill Ginrai." Hawk shrugged. "But I suppose if there's a silver lining to the unmitigated disaster of damage control I had to do with the local government, it's that we discovered young Lightfoot as a result of Ginrai's ill-planned broadcast."

Minerva pulled her legs up onto the couch, knees tucked under her chin, and made a face. "Yeah, but being stuck in here while you and the other Pretenders ran around making sure no Decepticons could trace us to our base in the meantime was pretty stifling. Especially since that was when I was the "token girl" of this team." Minerva threw a grin over her shoulder at Sari, who returned it easily.

The whole story struck Sari as weird, mostly because she was still thinking of Optimus Prime when she thought of Ginrai, given his transtector's appearance. In the back of her mind, she wondered if they weren't somehow related - however that worked in this universe.

"Optimus - er, our Optimus - would never have done anything like that," she declared. "I mean, sure, we have an open and friendly relationship with the humans in Detroit, but Optimus would never jeopardize the team by broadcasting his whereabouts like that."

"No, he would not," Jetstorm agreed. "But Sentinel might."

"Aye, Sentinel is not very good at being Prime. He is too….erm, what is word, Brother?" Jetfire asked.

"Probably not nice for company." Jetstorm answered dryly.

Cab's eyebrows shot up to the edge of his hair. Intrigued by Jetstorm's answer, he leaned forward and whispered, "Do you guys actually use Cybertronian swear words?"

Jetfire grinned and was about to respond when Sari jumped in.

"Al-righty, I think that's enough break time for you. Jetfire, Jetstorm, why don't you two go figure out how a shower works. You both reek."

Catastrophe narrowly avoided, the Minicon Pretender drooped and sighed, hoping Bumblebee and Ginrai would get back soon.

On the road...

"You've been quiet a while, squirt. What's up?" Ginrai eased through the weighing station and glanced over at his passenger, flipping on the headlights as the sun went down.

"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking about that lightning attack thing I did when I was fighting Wilder. I couldn't do anything like that back home, so I was wondering: was that like an upgrade, or are Godmasters like the superheroes of Cybertron?"

Ginrai's eyebrows touched the tips of his bangs and he shook his head with a whistle. "I still don't know much about Cybertron or its culture, but….superheroes of Cybertron….kid, I think you might've hit the nail on the head!" He grew quiet for four or five seconds before speaking again. "Metalhawk told me once, long ago before that big War they talk about, there were other Cybertronians with power that weren't Godmasters. But their Senate or whatever didn't like 'em, labeled them Outliers and made them register with the government."

"Like in X-Men?" asked Bumblebee.

"Pretty much exactly like in X-Men." Ginrai answered. "I think Godmasters are the first transformers since the Outliers to exhibit powers not related to what we turn into, but I also think it has something to do with being a hybrid of two species."

Well. That was kind of cool. Bumblebee did like superheroes, and he was willing to bet Sari would geek out with him if he told her about these "Outliers".

"So do we all have the same powers, or is it more like every Godmaster's power is different?" he asked.

Ginrai shrugged. "As far as I know, we all have the same three powers. It just manifests a little differently for each."

(a/n: in the original series, these three powers were called "chichōkon", "jinchōkon", and "tenchōkon". In the dub, they were called "earth energon", "star energon" and "spark energon". In this story, I am calling the three by "energos power", followed by a rough cybertronian translation from the Cybertron Language Academy)

As they drove and the scenery changed around them, Ginrai held up three fingers. "The main thing is called "Energos Power", but it divides up into three versions. The first is Energos: Ter'a. That's earth-based power, and involves drawing power out of rocks, rubble, stuff like that."

Bumblebee blinked. "Hey, isn't that what you were doing when we first met you?"

"Yep. I tend to stick to Energos: Ter'a usually. There's also Energos: Yenz'. That's more sky and atmosphere-related attacks. I think that might be your area of expertise, given that you attack with lightning or electricity."

Bumblebee pondered this for a moment. "Well," he said with a grin, "I always did like that show Static Shock. But what's the last one?"

"I've heard it called Energos: Zaz. But that sounds kinda weird, so on the occasions that I've used it, I just say "Energos Power" and think the "zaz" part. My body usually knows what I'm trying to do anyway. That's an attack that comes from your own body, and I've seen it level buildings"

"Whoa!" Wide-eyed, Bumblebee turned as far sideways as his seatbelt would allow to look at Ginrai. "That's so cool! Am I gonna be able to do all of those? Or just one? And is it something I can do all the time, or is it like a once a week chargeup thing?"

Ginrai winced a little at the rapid deluge of questions. It wasn't quite as bad as Shuta's inquisitive moods, but he was more used to the quiet of just himself, the truck, and the road. Passengers were kind of a new thing for him, even having been a Godmaster for two years. Rubbing the back of his neck, the young trucker stretched and tried to answer at least a few of the younger boy's questions.

"Take it easy, Bee. These aren't powers to take for granted, or to take lightly. For one thing, it can only harm Headmasters or Godmasters, because it only affects a Transformer with human DNA. So your lightning attack would be absolutely useless on one of the Decepticon Pretenders. But it can harm you if you don't control it or how much power you allow to drain out of yourself. Use too much and you could burn out, got it?"

When Bumblebee didn't answer, Ginrai looked over to see that he was ashen in the glowing light of the stereo, and looking very overwhelmed.

"Too much to get used to at once?" he asked sympathetically.

Bumblebee nodded and hunched his shoulders. "Back home, I'm just part of a maintenance crew that turned planet-protector. I don't have special powers, and most people think I'm annoying - though I try not to be. Still, at least there I know who I am and what I can do. I...I really just want to go home, Ginrai."

"It's okay, squirt. Hawk'll figure something out." Ginrai nodded to the boy and both lapsed into silence.

Eventually, Bumblebee drifted off to sleep, curled up against the window. With a rueful grin, Ginrai reached over his shoulder and pulled a blanket from behind his seat, dropping it over the smaller Godmaster. As there were few vehicles on this particular stretch of road, he slowed down a bit so that the myriad bumps along the way would not wake his passenger.

By the time Bumblebee woke up, the sun was shining directly into his eyes. Blinking owlishly, he sat up in a tangle of seatbelt and blanket and looked around at the unfamiliar roads.

"Wha?" he managed sleepily.

Ginrai chuckled. "Morning, sleepyhead!" he said, "We're in Canada! We're just a few hours from the British Motors Headquarters, but I think we should stop and get some breakfast first, how about you?"

Having eaten nothing but trailmix and the occasional burger on the drive so far, Bumblebee was eager to try a human breakfast. He slipped down out of the cab and stopped to straighten his khaki pants. (Despite his protests, Ginrai had insisted on buying him a set of warmer clothes at the last truck stop they'd been at. He now had two sets of long-sleeve shirts, a pair of pants, and a jacket. He didn't even want to think about what they must've cost.)

"What kinds of things do humans normally eat for breakfast?" he asked, carefully putting his cap back on.

"Depends on your culture!" Ginrai said cheerfully. "Could be bread and sausage, could be cereal, could be rice and egg, could be bacon and pancakes...as long as it isn't a dessert food, there's no real right or wrong. It's just something to get your metabolism moving in the morning so your body knows to start burning calories."

He threw a friendly arm around Bumblebee's shoulders as they crossed the gray parking lot, bent double against a rather chilly breeze until they hurried inside the truckstop that was also part restaurant. Once seated, Ginrai browsed a menu, then slid it to Bumblebee.

"Well I'm getting that ham sandwich with the fried eggs on it. But for you, since it's your first real breakfast, I recommend bacon, eggs, and at least one pancake. You're skinny enough as is, and I think your body could definitely use the nutrients."

He'd guessed correctly. Bumblebee not only cleared his plate, he ate all the potatoes that Ginrai ran out of room for, and almost choked on the fork when he got it stuck in the pancake. Fully fed and very full, they both climbed back into the truck and headed for British Motors.

Several hours later, they were walking through the motor company's main showroom, on the way to the back. Having been there several times before, Ginrai was more focused on getting where he needed to go. Bumblebee, however, was enchanted.

"Look at all the pretties!" he breathed, staring at the sleek sportscars around him. They passed a display center labeled British Motors Presents: The Urbana 500, and Bumblebee stopped walking and had to be pulled away. "Noooo, let me go back!" he whined, "I shoulda scanned that instead of Fanzone's carrrr!"

The men and women unloading Bumblebee's transtector from Ginrai's truck shot the driver a sympathetic look.

"Hey, I still got my daughter's baby-leash, if you want it!" one woman shouted jokingly.

"I might need it!" Ginrai called back, steering Bee towards a door marked "Do Not Enter".

"Come on, kid. I wanna show you something." He took them to an elevator and down to the sub-basement of British Motors.

"Wow!" Bumblebee breathed, staring around him. Machines hummed and clicked as they moved back and forth, each assembling something different. Pieces of metal that Bumblebee recognized as being Cybertronian in origin - likely from a downed ship if the carbon scoring was anything to go by - littered the floor, and all was overseen by small teams of scientists.

"What are they making?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the whirr of the factory machines.

"Godbomber!" Ginrai answered, a proud smile on his face."

"A what?"

"It's going to be a kind of armor upgrade to go with the Super Ginrai upgrade - when I combine with my trailer - and it's supposed to increase strength and firepower by 80%."

Bumblebee was impressed. "Whoa! You'll be as strong as Grimlock!"

"I have no idea who Grimlock is," Ginrai said, "But I'll assume that's a compliment." He paused for a moment. "It'll also let me fight in space."

"Space?!" yelled Bumblebee.

"I know, right?!" both boys grinned madly at each other for a minute, then turned back to watch the assembly process.

"Hawk is actually very worried about this project - it was his idea - and thinks it won't be completed on time. I don't know why, but he's been getting really nervous about a potential increase of Decepticon attacks lately. I mean, you've seen how it is normally for us, kinda Power Rangers-y. But he seems to think there's a full-on war coming, so he commissioned the Godbomber."

"Well, this does seem like the kind of thing that would have the firepower to knock some 'Cons down," Bumblebee said thoughtfully, "Probably only Megatron and Lugnut would be unaffected."

"It's supposed to be comparable to my firepower if Lander and Diver were welded to me," Ginrai remarked. Seconds later he realized how weird that had sounded. "Okay, yeah, bad choice of words….stop laughing….get off the floor, it's covered in motor oil….oh good gosh I became my father for a minute."

He looked back up at the partially completed Godbomber and smiled. "See you in action soon, buddy."