"Skids?"

"Yeah, Mudflap?"

"I'm bored."

"You and me both."

The twins had been lazing about the Autobot lounge for the better part of an hour, initially playing video games on the big-screen to fritter away useless time. But once they finally had enough of Destroy All Humans!, they came to the unforeseen realization that they had already completed the majority of the games in their arsenal. Since they weren't really interested in replaying the other titles, they found themselves roped back into their own self-inflicted standstill of ennui. Oh, and for what felt like the gazillionth time, they'd been abandoned by their fellow alien associates and left behind at the base. The bullet trains, the 'Bee-team, the femmes—heck, even the human janitors had something going on that needed taking care of, which left them in a rut for things to do.

Skids picked up a stray piece of scrap metal and mulled it over in his servos, bending and twisting the debris as though it were a slab of playdough. As he did this, he looked to his equally dopey brother with an expression that was reminiscent of a lost puppy. A day prior, a contentious thought had crossed his processor, but he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to bring it up to his judgemental sibling. Flopping on the metal couch behind him, he huffed impassionately while Mudflap mindlessly walked circles around the perimeter of the lounge.

After a good two minutes of vapid silence and Mudflap's repetitious meanderings, Skids finally had enough. His sixteen-second attention span couldn't handle the monotony any longer. "Err, 'Flap..." he began cautiously. "Have you ever, I dunno, wondered what it'd be like to interface wit'... Well, not a Cybertronian?"

Mudflap furrowed an optic ridge, his attention suddenly drawn to his counterpart. "Not a Cybertronian?" he repeated. "Wait, you mean like a human? You're askin' me what it'd be like to interface wit' a human?"

Skids felt a jolt of unease run down his back at the sound of Mudflap's accusing inquiry. "'Flap, I'm appalled you'd even ask such a thing. Absolutely disgusted. How would somethin' like dat even work, anyway?"

Mudflap shrugged absentmindedly, completely lost as to what Skids was going on about. "What didya mean, then? A Velgroxian? A scraplet? It's not like interfacing could really work wit' those things either."

Skids suddenly perked up. "You know, a Velgroxian is as good a thing as any to start with. Better than a human anyway, since we're friends wit' a bunch of 'em. What do you imagine it'd be like, what with all those jaggy bits 'round their eating holes? Imagine being spark-to-spark wit' somethin' nasty like dat lookin' back at ya."

Mudflap carefully pondered this question. "I dunno. Hold on, aside from havin' to stare into its wormy nastiness, what you're also wonderin' 'bout is the physical sensation of the act, amirite?"

"Well, sort of. In a scientific sense, of course."

"Naturally."

"Definitely."

"Okay. We know those things can spit out webs from their slimy mouthy bits, so what 'bout those? I'm guessin' they'd get all tangled up in your spark chamber, yeah? Kind of a turn-off. Literally. So Velgroxian fun time likely wouldn't be, uh, practical. Or fun."

"When you put it like dat, it sounds pretty horrible."

"Duh. What could be better than the classic route?"

"Space barnacle interfacing?"

"I think we should save dat conversation for another time."

"Hmm... You know what? I feel like a brand new mech now dat I got dat off my chassis. It's like I'm some kind of scientist or somethin'—analyzin' and interpretin' animal behavior and whatnot."

Mudflap crossed his arms in satisfied agreement. "Solving the mysteries of subspecies interfacing. We should be hired for National Geographic. You bring out the best in me, Skids."

Skids felt his spark swell with appreciation. "You too, Mudflap."

"...What the hell did I just listen to?!"

The yell startled the twins right out of their giant metal seats. They hurriedly set off in the direction of the lounge entryway but grew baffled once they got there. There wasn't anyone there.

"Down here, you idiots!"

The pair looked beneath them and saw that their mystery eavesdropper was none other than Lennox himself, which was surprising. It had been a while since they had seen the guy, so his spontaneous arrival was something straight out of left field.

Lennox positioned his arms firmly behind his back and stepped past the two intellectually challenged Autobots so that he wouldn't have to look at either of them.

Leaning over to Skids, Mudflap whispered into his audio receptor so that Lennox wouldn't hear. "Look at dat face, bro. Homeboy be lookin' like Tom Cruise wit' late-stage AIDS."

Lennox groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. His massive salary could suck it right about now. All of the money in the world wasn't enough to have to deal with this torment.

"E-Ey, boss!" said Skids, obviously a tad nervous. "Anythin' you need us fo'? And you didn't catch much of dat, right? Right?"

"Of course he did, moron!" shouted Mudflap. "Didn't you hear what he jus' said? Especially wit' dat colossal head of yours."

"Hey, you shaddap, ugly!"

"Ugly? We're twins, dumbass."

"Quiet!" Lennox yelled. "Also, I don't want to know."

"But-"

"No!"

The two stood stiffly, a nasty feeling permeating the bowels of their Energon chambers. Lennox was mad, and when he got mad, he got loud. It was a rare sight to behold, as their human leader always seemed to have a tight lid on such emotions. But presently, he wasn't in the mood to tolerate any of their nonsense or mischief.

Mudflap bit his metallic lip anxiously. Lennox may have been small, but he certainly had an atmosphere about him whenever he wished to exert it.

"Listen up, you two," Lennox barked. "We have a new prisoner being housed in the base, which means we need guards on duty at all hours. This one's slick and unpredictable. She's already tried to escape a handful of times, and it's only been a little more than a day. Eyes must be on her at all times. You two, as ordered by Braginsky and myself, will make yourselves useful for once. You will guard her cell in the early mornings from five to twelve. Is that understood?"

Skids could feel himself getting jittery. Lennox looked freaky—like a vein was about to burst out of his head. "Eh, this sounds pretty important, Major..."

"It is. You two have been whining for eons about wanting better jobs, so here you go. I don't have time to argue over this; you two aren't my chief concern. I have to go back to the Command Center and deal with some important matters there." Lennox began to walk away but unexpectedly halted in his tracks, causing the twins to shift their weight in surprise. "This is a serious job, boys. We absolutely cannot have this girl escaping her cell. I can't have you goofing off on this one, got it? If a hostile Cemetery Wind agent were to get loose while under the jurisdiction of NEST, the brass would have all our heads."

"G-Got it, sir," Mudflap replied hesitantly. Man, he just wanted this to be done and over with.

As the rough tapping of Lennox's apoplectic footsteps faded down the hallway, Skids and Mudflap collapsed back onto the metal couch before them, relieved that they were no longer under such invasive scrutiny.

So much for finding something fun to do.

Bumblebee let out a vexatious chirp and shut his optics from weariness.

He was stationed outside of an alignment of holding cells, mundanely waiting for his shift to end. When he had brought the rambunctious femme back to NEST, all hell seemed to break loose afterward. She was cuffed, blindfolded, and led off to the human medical wing, but not before fighting a good fistful of soldiers away. Whatever magic bullet Cemetery Wind had blasted her with made her as strong as a forklift.

Bumblebee had tried to be gentle while holding the little lady, but a few times she threatened to squirm and thrash her way out of his grip, and because of that, he had to tighten his grasp. It wasn't until Lennox had taken custody of her that he realized that she had a deep, bloody dig on the side of her neck. No doubt it was from the clutch of her weapon, which was promptly confiscated by the nearest team of weapons specialists. He had felt a pang of guilt arise in his spark when he had realized that he might have inflicted harm upon her, even if it was involuntary. He never liked seeing humans get hurt, no matter what the circumstances were. Although Pigtails had wanted to send him to the Pit for her capture, he remained sympathetic, because if he were in her position, he'd probably feel the same. It was simply in his nature to be thoughtful and understanding.

Though he didn't owe them much, Bumblebee loved humans. He loved their music, their behavior, their culture—everything. Even the way they looked captured his interest. Though some of the other Autobots had come to dislike Earth, he embraced the strange, aloof world with open arms. He never got to see much of Cybertron; by the time he was created, the war had already been well underway for hundreds of thousands of years. Earth was like his adoptive home. It was packed to the brim with enthralling alien lifeforms, and its people—although highly imperfect—reminded him of his own.

Humans and Cybertronians, beneath the flesh and metal, really weren't all that different. When Bumblebee looked into the eyes of humans, he saw something painfully familiar. Their aggression, fear, neurosis—everything about them was so close to the point that it stung. Some humans were always up to no good, cheating and lying their way through life, stepping on those beneath them, but the same went for Cybertronians as well. The Decepticons were a prime example of that postulation.

The clarity of one's eyes, whether they be human or Cybertronian, always told an invisible story to Bumblebee. When a person achieves a certain point of mental suffering, they will sometimes do insane, irrational things. In some instances, they focus their pain inward, only hurting themselves more in-depth in the process. Other times they reflect their internal anguish outward, creating a sort of domino effect which leads to further suffering and heartache. Before coming to Earth, Bumblebee hadn't thought it was possible for a species like the human race to exist. Sure, he had seen other lifeforms before during his wartime space travels, but never before had he witnessed creatures that rivaled his own to such a vast degree. He knew that this was the reason why some Autobots hated humanity. They saw the same capacity for hatred and violence within them, and it forced whoever it was to look inside themselves and wonder. But he had faith in humanity, even if they didn't always have faith in him. Physically they may have been different, but inside they were so very much the same.

Despite the crummy way the Autobots were treated at times, Bumblebee couldn't truly blame the brass and some members of the public for not holding his kind in high regard. As resentful as he may have been at times, it wasn't as though they were completely devoid of reason. The death toll of the Chicago massacre was equivalent to that of 9/11, which made the introduction of Cybertronians to humans not exactly a pleasant one. Although it had been over a decade since then, things really could have gone much worse in retrospect. Currently, relations were doing alright, and they only seemed to be improving with each passing day. But that was getting off topic.

Even though Bumblebee didn't want to see the woman come to any harm, he still remembered that she had not only attempted to kill him but Lennox and the other soldiers in their troop as well. That alone was attempted mass murder, and it wasn't even mentioning the fact that she was affiliated with Cemetery Wind—an organization that willingly and almost joyfully slaughtered his comrades by the dozens, including innocents, such as Sam Witwicky.

With that thought in mind, Bumblebee forced himself to reel back his empathy a click. He currently had no idea as to whether or not the woman was working for them of her own volition, or if she was somehow coerced into their spidery web by some other means. Considering the brutal and carnal behavior she displayed after he took her in, what with her going so far as to bite one of the men restraining her, it seemed as though the latter option was unlikely.

Sitting up against the door of the cell, Bumblebee flicked through several radio channels, wearily in search of some good music to help him through this seemingly endless shift.

He was utterly spent, and the prospect of losing himself in a good jam session sounded nothing short of heavenly.

Zero purposely sat crouched in the dusty dark corner of her cell, far away from the metal bench that was made available to her.

She had been this way for quite some time now, her mind sifting through escape plan after escape plan. She knew with absolute certainty that there was an Autobot posted outside of her door; the small tremors that occurred whenever it walked around didn't help it much in the way of secrecy or stealth.

But she felt her concentration wavering, primarily due to the raging rock and roll music the unknown Autobot was blasting, and because she knew she was well past her due date. She had gone a full twenty-four hours without her diacatholicons, and she was starting to feel the effects of withdrawal.

Knowing that the shakes would set in sooner if she continued thinking about it, she began a steady count towards infinity.

An hour or two must have gone by, but nobody came.

Zero couldn't call for back-up because the NEST soldiers had made sure she was stripped of any and all communications devices. This was a blunder she knew she would never be able to redeem herself for, and shame ate away at her already empty stomach like acid through a hip flask.

She rested her small body against the solid cold wall next to her and stared at nothing in particular as she allowed herself to become encompassed in the stentorian rock music that invaded her ears. The singer's voice was gruff and filled with all kinds of emotions. The lyrics continuously referenced a need for sleep and escape, which made her conclude that the songwriter likely suffered from insomnia. "Jett would enjoy this," she muttered unenthusiastically. "That man always badgers me with his strange tastes."

Stretching out her left leg, she pulled her right knee in close, hugging it to her chest with both of her arms. She sat like that for a decent while, letting her mind drift on autopilot, but before she knew it, there was a harsh and sudden knocking at her cell door.

"Hey, are you (static) alive in there?"

Zero, now a little bit miffed, said nothing. She hadn't realized that the radio had ceased making music. The voice that had made the query was undoubtedly coming from it, though. Writing the grainy utterance off as some quirky malfunction, she continued doing nothing, practically reveling in the silence that followed.

"Are you okay? Answer me."

She continued to remain silent, her lips firmly set in a fine line. What was going on here? Was that inconsistent, shifting voice being directed at her? Oh well, it wasn't relevant anyway. She had no interest in making conversation with anyone, let alone her captor. All that mattered was that NEST was going to pay for their transgressions against her company. She'd make sure of it. It was her sworn duty.

Then she heard the creaky sound of the doorknob turning. An attractive young man walked through the doorway and looked into her cell, which was separated by a four-inch thick barrier of bulletproof glass. If she could have, Zero would have kicked through it a long time ago, but even she wasn't strong enough to commit such a feat—enhancements and all.

"Hey, Pigtails."

Zero scrutinized the person that stood before her, her voidlike eyes sucking in each and every aspect of his prepossessing features. The first thing that stuck out to her was his shaggy blonde hair and finely tanned skin. He was slender yet muscular, and his face radiated youth like the shining sun. He was probably her age, if not a year or two older, and was also of shorter stature. She imagined that if she stood directly next to him, he would probably have a good foot on her height-wise.

In addition to all that allure, he wore a plain black t-shirt which had a single pocket with a dull, rusty looking crimson logo pinned onto it. Zero narrowed her eyes and immediately recognized the insignia as belonging to that of the Autobot party. He also wore a bright yellow pair of sweatpants that had two black stripes running down each side. He didn't appear as though he was apart of the NEST association even remotely. If anything, rather than a top secret military base, he looked like he belonged in some type of avant-garde race car.

The arcane figure ruffled his hair and gave a light sigh. "Not gonna talk to me, Pigtails? I figured as much. Well, I should let you know that you'll be here for a little while longer. Some other guys will be taking my shift soon, so I felt like I should warn you beforehand. They can be..." He stopped, his mind scanning for a proper word to use. "Abrasive. Yeah, abrasive."

"Pigtails?" Zero repeated, the word slipping from her tongue like a viper. "I will not be acknowledged by such an informal designation, aberrant."

Now it was Bumblebee's turn to be confused. "Aberrant? I'm sorry, what?"

"..."

Noting that she wasn't going to clarify her bizarre language towards him, Bumblebee headed back towards the door. He had wanted to be a little nice; the other guards had left her alone for hours on end without so much as a drink to sip on. He had sensed that she was beginning to stress out, and even though his central voice of reason had told him to stay put outside the door, his spark had wanted him to go in to see if she was doing alright.

Looking at the steely woman one last time, Bumblebee asked, "Who are you, then?"

Nothing.

"Hey."

Nothing.

"Come on."

Nothing.

"Really?"

Nothing.

"Pigtails?"

Upon hearing the offending nickname, Zero felt a sickening twinge of annoyance swell up inside her chest. "My branding is Zero-X. However..." she said, trailing off apathetically.

Bumblebee didn't say anything; instead, he just stood there and waited expectantly for her to finish.

"...I have been encouraged to shorten my designation. If I am not to be placed in solitary confinement for further holding, just Zero should suffice."

Okay, that isn't a name humans typically have. And branding? he thought after giving her an understanding nod. It must be some sort of codename—an alias, like Lebowski's. I'll have to inform Lennox.

Bumblebee stepped out of the room and closed the door, feeling uneasy. It was Skids and Mudflap's turn to watch over the unsuspecting little femme, and he honestly felt pretty bad for her.

The dynamic duo had a lot of stupidity to share, and share it they most certainly would.

A/N: Rescue Bots- Velgroxians/The Velgrox