Know

They say a person can get used to anything.

Well, that might be true, but what they don't tell you is how fragging long it takes. All day, I'd had to endure all kinds of stares and whispers, and it still never failed to make me feel uncomfortable. Like there were ants marching down my back.

Fortunately, (or maybe unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) nobody said anything to Elita. She was kept in the dark the rest of the day. 'Course, she was smart enough to know something was up. For one thing, I wasn't nearly as animated as before. Earlier, I had been chatting and commenting on whatever Elita said eagerly, but after the thing with Inferno, I only nodded and muttered to anything she said, looking down the whole time. I realize now what an angsty mess I must've been.

Also, the staring thing wasn't helping either. The groups around us had developed this habit of staring at me and whispering to each other. But whenever Elita or me looked up, they'd jump like the guilty little children they were and look away. Elita noticed that, too and looked at me with a questioning expression. Once or twice, she even asked me what the deal was. "Grid, what's going on? What happened?" I'd always give her the same response:

"I don't want to talk about it."

Meanwhile, Blackout had been taken to some sort of clinic place by Longarm and hadn't come back out yet. I realized that the worst damage must've been in his CPU rather than his face, like I'd thought. That kind of thing takes a while to repair, so I wasn't expecting him for a while. As for Inferno, I hadn't seen him either. Not since Leader-1 carried him off. Though, I did see Leader-1 once later, driving aimlessly against the wall. I guess he didn't know what to do with himself.

Anyway, after about five centuries (it seemed), the work shift finally ended. We were told, via intercom, to gather in the stage room again for some announcements. So, we put up our crud and drove down there to see what else we'd need to know.

That was where I was now. Standing, by myself of course, and staring up at the stage waiting for someone, probably High Wire, to come up and fill us in. At least, that was my original plan. But I didn't need to stand there long before I heard someone call my name. "Yo, Grid! Over here!" he shouted.

Surprised, I turned and looked in the direction of the voice. It wasn't Blackout waving at me, I could tell that much. It took me a second to recall who this person was, so much had happened today. Oh, yeah, I remembered now. This was Hal, the one I'd talked to this morning. I was slightly puzzled. Why would Hal want to talk to me? I couldn't recall saying much to the guy. He didn't seem hostile, so I doubted he wanted to torment me. After a second's deliberation, I decided, whatever, I might as well head over there and see what he wants.

I walked over. "You talking to me?" I asked.

Hal was grinning. "Know anyone else named Grid?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm talking to you. Get over here."

I stepped into the circle. I say circle because I could see that Hal wasn't alone. Standing next to him was a green minicon I'd never seen before. There were also some others, but they were all talking to each other and didn't see us. Hal pointed to the green guy standing next to him. "This is Backtrack," he said.

I waved half-heartedly. "Hi, Backtrack," I said.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. Obviously, this meeting had not been his idea.

We stood around for a second longer without saying anything, staring at our feet. We were all waiting for someone to break the ice, I think. Finally, I asked, "So, what's this about?"

"We saw the whole thing back there," said Hal, pointing, "And Backtrack and I think it was really cool how you stood up to Inferno like that."

"Yeah," Backtrack cut in, not looking up, "Inferno's a royal jerk."

"And you seemed kind of down standing over there by yourself," added Hal, "So I thought, 'Hey? Why not?'"

"Doesn't it bother you that I'm… that I'm…?"

Hal laughed and waved his hand in the air. "Naw, you seem like an alright guy." Something inside me felt better.

"Besides," Hal went on, "I'm, flat broke anyway." He sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Yup, my pockets are completely empty," Backtrack agreed. For his initially distant exterior, Backtrack seemed to warm up pretty fast. He shot me an impish look. "Too bad. We don't have anything for ya."

I frowned. "Oh, I'm tingling with disappointment," I said coldly.

That got a laugh out of all of us.

We stood there for a while, just chatting. It was kind of nice, especially since I didn't think anyone would want to come near me after what had happened today. These two didn't seem to care about my sleeping criminal tendencies, and, to be honest, their company was just what I needed. I'd gotten kind of used to having company around, what with Blackout constantly following me everywhere. I'll never admit this out loud, but I was getting a little lonely without Blackout. At the very least, he was good for getting my mind off of things, which was something I desperately needed right now. So, I let myself talk with Hal and Backtrack, just to escape my problems for one minute.

As we were talking, out of the corner of my eye I saw the crowd growing steadily bigger. When the Construction Team (us) had arrived, we had been the only ones there. But now minicons were streaming in from the tunnel entrance and being absorbed into the crowd, making it grow larger. The image that comes to mind is water being poured into a bowl.

"Hey look," observed Backtrack, "Looks like they're all coming back now."

"Who?" Hal asked, "Oh, the guys on the other teams?" Obviously, Hal and Backtrack were talking about the other tasks that some of the others had been assigned to. I did feel a slight pang of envy for them. At least they had gotten to go outside.

"Yup," said Backtrack, squinting, "I can see the Patrol Team coming in now. See? There's Sparkplug himself." I looked where Backtrack was pointing and recognized the yellow car from the night before. I remembered what Elita had told me earlier, and I felt a new sense of appreciation. That guy had helped set this whole thing up, after all.

"Hey, wait a minute," I muttered, scanning the crowd, "We're missing some people!"

It was true. While minicons were still coming in from outside, the pour had slowed to a trickle and it was clear that not many more were coming. Even so, the crowd was about a fifth smaller than it had been last night.

Hal nodded like this wasn't a big deal. "Yeah, that would be the Raiding Team. High Wire told us it's a two-day deal. They won't be back 'til tomorrow." I nodded, reassured.

"Of course," he continued, "If tomorrow night, we still have people missing, than we should panic." I shuddered, remembering the job the Raiding Team had to do. There was no way infiltrating the decepticon camp could be without risks. What if we really did have people missing tomorrow…

"Have you guys seen Inferno recently?" I asked. The question was out of the blue. It had just now occurred to me that Inferno was also missing. But he had been on the Construction Team. Where was he?

"No," Hal said, "I haven't seen him since earlier."

"Me neither. Maybe Leader-1 killed him, if we're lucky," Backtrack added, smiling mischievously.

We both had to smile at that comment. "Huh, that's weird," I said, grinning, "'Cause I haven't-"

"GRID-SY!"

I froze and turned around slowly, like someone who had just discovered that there was a dangerous animal behind him. Blackout was standing a little ways behind us, waving and running at the same time. I groaned out loud. Hey, just because I said I missed him doesn't mean I was going to be glad when he came back. It did not help my situation that Backtrack was jumping up and down, shouting to make sure that he knew exactly where I was.

"Hi guys!" he said, as soon as he came over. I looked down at the floor when he came, trying (in vain) to suppress my temper. "Whatcha doin'? Standing? I like standing. It gets kind of boring though. Doing stuff is better. Oh, hey! I almost forgot about you, Grid! My old pal, Gridsy. My savior, ain't ya? Huh, Gridsy? Old buddy, old friend, old pal of mine!" He said this all very fast.

At this point, my optic was twitching just a little. I turned up to glare at him, or maybe tell him off. "Look, you," I started to mutter, but I stopped. Blackout was right in front of me, and I could see his face pretty well. He looked completely repaired, except for one thing. His optic was probably back in place, but it was impossible to tell because there was a big bandage like a blindfold over it. I have no idea why this was there, maybe to hold his eye in place or protect it or something, but the point is that that was his only optic and with it covered up, he couldn't get any kind of visual reading, thermal or otherwise.

"Wait a cycle," I said, "How did you even find us? You can't see!"

"Don't have to," he said as-a-matter-of-factly, "I've got a radar."

"We all have radar," I reminded him flatly.

"My radar's better than your radar," he bragged insolently.

I scowled, slightly annoyed. Hal and Backtrack's reactions were similar. "And why's that?" I asked, hotly.

"It has a wider range," he said, spreading his arms out, "You know how we all have our own upgrade or power? Well, mine is my radar."

"Wow, that must suck," laughed Backtrack.

Blackout pointed at Backtrack fiercely. (Or, rather, at his general direction. He couldn't see, remember?) "You may scoff now, sir!" he shouted, "But I know where everything in this room is! I mean, I can't see anything, but I know where you are, where you are, Gridsy there," he was pointing at each of us as he was speaking. "Plus, I know where the stage is," he gestured toward it, "Those hallways there," he pointed toward them, "And I know where that femme waaaaaaay over there is. The one's that's helping the dude next to her stand up. He tripped just now because he's a klutz." He pointed towards the enormous crowd.

Surprised, we scanned the crowd, squinting to find her. Remember, this room was huge. Around the same size as a football stadium. It took a lot of scanning and zooming in to locate her, but we eventually did. She and her mate were standing way against the far wall, about as far away from us as it was possible to get here.

We were astounded. "That's amazing!" said Hal, impressed. "No wonder you've only got one optic! That's already more than you need!"

Blackout nodded. "And!" He shouted the word loudly and arrogantly to make sure he had our attention. "I happen to know that Inferno is standing right over there, spying on us."

We all jumped at that. "What!?" we all asked at the same time. Six optics furiously scanned the spot where Blackout was now pointing, but all of them came up short. I stopped, puzzled. There was nobody there. No matter how many times we checked and rechecked, we couldn't see him. He was just, not there. "Where?" Backtrack asked, still looking.

"Right here!" said Blackout. He moved and stood in front of me. His arm was stretched out next to him, gesturing at… nothing. There were about a hundred other people behind him, but no Inferno.

"…Blackout, there's nothing there," I said, frowning. For a second, I thought that Blackout's radar might be malfunctioning. That maybe Longarm had missed a spot in trying to repair him.

"Sure there is!" Blackout insisted. He walked over to a gap in the crowd, not three feet from where he was a second ago. "He's right here!"

At that moment, we all gasped, and here's why. The second he said the words, "He's right here," he reached out and wrapped his arms around the air in a chokehold. At least, it looked like the air, at first. Then, we noticed that Blackout was actually buckling from some kind of weight that was pressing against him. And before we could register what we were seeing, there was a shimmer and bending of light, and Blackout was holding, not the air, but Inferno. The realization hit us like lightening. Inferno could turn invisible. Several mouths dropped open. The people close by, who had all been preoccupied with their own conversations a second ago, turned and stared, surprised.

Inferno, for his part, was not amused. He kept struggling, and it seemed like he was trying to yell something, but Blackout had him by the throat, so all that came out were hacking sounds. I might've laughed, but I was too busy being shocked (and slightly unnerved.)

"Told 'ya," Blackout said, sounding very proud of himself. He set Inferno down, and jabbed his thumb at him. "Looks like you got a stalker, Gridsy! Oh, I'm jealous." Some of the people near us laughed. I didn't.

Neither did Inferno. He was just standing there with his shoulders hunched. He looked absolutely humiliated. "I'll get you for this," he growled at Blackout.

"Already did, remember?" Blackout replied, gesturing to his bandaged eye. "Now, we're even." I couldn't help but notice that Blackout didn't really sound mad, even though he was talking about getting even. He wasn't too upset about being smacked, either. The tone he used with Inferno gave the impression that they were just buddies who were kidding around with each other. Completely different from Inferno's bitter attitude.

Inferno didn't trouble himself to reply. He just transformed and drove off, going a little faster than was probably necessary. When he was a fair distance away, there was another shimmer of light, and he vanished without a trace.

"Where's he going?" I asked, panicking a little.

"Waaaaaay over there," said Blackout, pointing. "He's getting the heck outta here. Ha! The guy must be embarrassed at being found out. Sure sucks to be him!" Again, despite the words, there was a complete absence of anger in his voice, or any negative emotion, for that matter.

Meanwhile, Backtrack was busy staring in the direction Inferno took off in. "Man," he was saying, "That was some cloaking device." There was an envious note in his voice that we all picked up on.

"Hello?" asked Hal, sounding embarrassed for Backtrack, "That's Inferno you're talking about."

"Yeah, don't say stuff like that!" I added. "It's creepy." After all that crud about what a jerk Inferno was, now he was complimenting him? Backtrack needed to pick a side and stay on it.

"Well, obviously, Inferno's a jerk," said Backtrack, "But you can't deny how cool it would be to be invisible. I mean, there wasn't a trace of him anywhere! Can you imagine how useful that would be?"

"Yeah, if you like hide and seek," I muttered.

Hal laughed and smacked me on the back. "Ha! Hide and seek. Good one, Grid!" I smiled, glad to see my wit appreciated. (For once.)

Blackout had been busy looking proud of himself for the past few minutes. Now, he suddenly snapped up. "Hey!" he shouted, "There's someone getting on the stage."

By now, any doubts about Blackout's radar had, obviously, evaporated, and we all hastily looked up to see. Soon, though, our enthusiasm faded because the minicon wasn't the one we'd been expecting. A different blue minicon was crouched down at the rim of the platform. From the way he was positioned, I guessed that he had just climbed up on the stage from the crowd. The people near us had heard Blackout's shout and were now all murmuring to each other, wondering who that was and where High Wire could be. In a flash, I recognized the minicon as Grindor, High Wire's lackey that had held the key the night before. I pointed this out to the others.

"Grindor?" asked Backtrack. "Seriously? But, why him?"

"How should I know?" I answered. "I'm just telling you what I'm seeing."

"Well, maybe if you two will shut up for a second, we'll find out what the deal is," Blackout said, as if he was addressing two children. He shook his head in false exasperation. "Kids these days."

I was about to snap something at Blackout, and Hal was in the process of making a move to try and hold me back when we were interrupted. "Alright!" a voice shouted, loud enough to wake the dead. If there were any windows in this place, they probably would've shattered. It was Grindor. "I need every one of you to shut up! Now!" Immediately, the murmuring stopped. "No, no. Don't do that," he went on as some people started to sit down. "C'mon, get up off the floor all of ya'! This'll only take a second." The bots in question hastily stood back up.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Grindor wasn't quite as humble or patient as High Wire was. On the other hand, he certainly got the crowd quiet faster than High Wire ever could. Like Leader-1, people tended to listen to him. Unlike Leader-1, however, they mostly listened to him because of his sheer volume, not out of any respect. Actually, now that I think about it, Leader-1's quiet demeanor and Grindor's commanding voice contrasted pretty sharply with each other.

"Okay," he was going on, "There are a couple of things I need to say to you guys, and then you can do whatever the pit it is you want to do for the rest of the night."

"Where's High Wire?" someone in the crowd interrupted.

Grindor shot them a dirty look. "High Wire's out on a raid," he snapped. "He and Sureshock won't be back 'til tomorrow night." We all looked at each other in surprise at that. High Wire on the raiding team? He didn't seem like the raiding type.

"First and foremost," Grindor went on, "From now on, everyone will be on strict rations." The crowd, including us, groaned audibly. "I know, I know," Grindor said, "It sucks. Believe it or not, they're putting us officers on rations, too. We get the exact same amount of oil as you guys. Personally, I think we should get more. After all, we're the ones who set this whole thing up for ya'. Fortunately for you, that's not up to me." I good portion of the audience gulped. We definitely weren't dealing with High Wire anymore.

As he spoke, Grindor pulled a small rectangular screen out of his chest compartment and held it up for us to see. "So, listen up! 'Cause this is important!" he shouted. "This is a ration card. Everybody's getting one, and one is enough for everybody." After that last line, he narrowed his optics at us as if in suspicion. "Later tonight, a commanding officer will drop by your sleeping quarters and give you each a card," he went on. "Your card will have your name on it as well as your ration credits for the day. There are two big machines, one in each corridor," he said this while pointing to the right and left, looking a lot like a weathercock. "What you do is stick your card in the machine, and it'll spew out your ration. You get two credits each day, and every time you use the machine you'll get one barrel of oil. One." Again, he put emphasis on the dreaded number. "For those of you who are lacking in the math department, that means you get two barrels of oil a day. You can get them whenever you want, but please use it wisely, for your sake. And no, they don't rollover. So, if you decide, for whatever reason, that you don't want your oil, you don't get extra the next day. Got it?"

We all nodded to show that we got it.

"If we somehow discover that someone 'magically' managed to get another ration card," he went on, making quote/unquote gestures with his hands, "Or we find out that someone tried to get 'extra helpings,' guess who has to go without rations for a week!"

For the second time tonight, everybody gulped.

"Moving on! And…" Grindor's voice suddenly dropped a few decibels. He turned his head to the side, "Believe it or not," he murmured, "This is the bad news." His voice rose again. "Those of you who've been freed, by now you've been away from your partners for two days." ("Partners? You mean slave masters!") "Don't interrupt me, okay? I hate that!" Grindor snapped in the direction of the speaker. Then he went on, "Naturally, they're starting to wonder where you are. The Patrol Team has already reported that the notice is going up all over Cybertron: The Minicons are Missing." People started nodding and muttering smugly to one another.

"Yeah, it sounds catchy," Grindor lifted his voice over the clamor, "But that poses a real problem for us. Obviously, we don't want anyone to know about our little 'project' that we've got going on down here." He did the quote things with his hands again. "If everyone stays missing for much longer, eventually they'll know that something's up. That means, and," his voice got quieter again, "You're going to hate me for having to tell you this," his voice rose, "Everyone who has a partner on either side must return to them. And soon."

There was an instant uproar. There was an almost simultaneous roar of, "WHAT?!" as the crowd jumped up and started shouting angrily at Grindor, as if this was his fault. Even I, who had no partner, was shocked. Return to those tyrants? After all that hope? After finally thinking we were safe forever? Was he crazy? Next to me, I could make out Hal screaming, "There's no way you'll ever get me back there!" That's when I realized that Hal was a victim, too.

For once, not even Grindor could get the crowd quiet. That's not to say he wasn't loud enough. Believe it or not, I could actually make out what he was saying. "Okay, cool it! Hey! I said cool it! Oh, why don't you come up here and say that to my face, huh?! Everyone shut up! HEY! BACKTRACK!"

On that last word, "BACKTRACK!" Blackout and I turned to look curiously at the green minicon next to us. (Blackout tried to anyway. He couldn't see, remember.) Apparently, Grindor's yell was some sort of signal because right on cue, Backtrack lifted his right arm in the air. His hand glowed a bright green before a neon laser shot out of it and hit the ceiling way above us. Three times he did this, before putting his arm back down again. There was a little bit of screaming, but pretty soon the crowd calmed down.

"I realize that probably nobody here wants to go through with that," Grindor said when the crowd got quiet. (Instant shouts of "Darn right!") "But it can't be helped. If those autobrats or decepticreeps find out what we're planning, we're all doomed." There was a smaller uproar this time. There was panic, sure, but there was also pleasure from hearing Grindor use those degrading nicknames on the other transformers. "But!" Grindor had to raise his voice again. It wasn't very hard for him. "There is actually a specific way we need to do this. For instance, if we all return to them at the same time, it'll just rouse even more suspicion. On that note, we'll be rotating who'll go back and who'll stay here. We'll sort all that out later."

"Additionally, once you do go back, you need to be able to escape again. Yeah, that's asking a lot of you, I know, but it's perfectly necessary. We need someone to build the ship after all. If you all leave and don't come back, well, you might as not well not have bothered escaping in the first place." Grindor paused for a second, maybe to collect his thoughts, before going on. "As for how you'll do it, I just have this to say: Nothing is too drastic. Find any reason, make any excuse necessary to come back here. Whatever you need to do, do it. Fake your own death, if you have to. I don't care. Just make sure you get back here."

Once again, Grindor's face started to harden. That suspicious look was back. "And if there's anyone out there who find that, for whatever crazy reason, they like serving in someone's war better than this, they'd better not show their face plate around here anymore!" He pointed accusingly at the crowd. "We don't have the time or patience for deserters! Follow me?"

The crowd started nodding again. Some of them were nodding so hard, I thought they might follow Grindor straight into Unicron's maw if they had to. "Who would be crazy enough to want to stay with the autobots or decepticons anyway?" I muttered to Blackout. The reason for deserting, if there was a reason, was way beyond me. It was basically a choice between hard labor or slavery and hard labor. Escaping Cybertron seemed like a pretty good option to me. But obviously, it was a common enough problem for Grindor to be paranoid about. I was baffled.

Blackout just shrugged, as if he really couldn't care less.

"So if anyone has any silly ideas about 'honor' or 'loyalty,'" continued Grindor, eyes narrowed, "They'd better leave them at the gate. Because, there's no honor in fighting someone else's war, and what you're mistaking for 'loyalty' is really just cowardice." Grindor suddenly leaned back. His expression softened slightly. "And we all know it, don't we?" he muttered. The crowd became solemn, as if everyone was drinking in what he said.

Grindor stood there for a second silently, letting us all take the moment in. Then he snapped back up and stood alert, informing us that the philosophical part of the lecture was over. "For those of you who are returning, let me clear some things up. There is absolutely no chance (I repeat, no chance) that you will be able to bond with your partner again. The, uh, treatment you got last night has made you temporarily immune to that. So, all the things you would be able to do normally with your formal partner, you'll still be able to do. Yes, you'll be able to powerlink with them. Yes, they'll still understand you. Yes, you'll still be able to read their thoughts, all that stuff…"

"Read their thoughts?" I asked in a hushed tone. I'd heard about what a minicon goes through when they're captured, but I'd never heard anything like that. Read their thoughts? As in their minds? You could be inside their heads? What the slag was that about?

Blackout just shushed me and hissed something about talking in class.

"…But, technically, you won't be bound to them," Grindor hadn't paused when I spoke and had kept going. "The only real difference is that now you can go as far away from them as you want, and you'll never feel any pain. "You can even make physical contact with other bulks, and you won't bond with them, either." For a second, Grindor let his sharp demeanor settle, and a sarcastic smile shone through. "You've now entered the Safe Zone. Congratulations," he said, spreading his arms apart. It seemed to me that Grindor was making fun of the "freecons" more than he was actually congratulating them, but I didn't comment. No one else seemed to notice. I guess they were too busy being excited about the "Safe Zone" thing to notice what a subtle jerk Grindor was. Oh, well. What you don't know can't hurt you, I guess.

"To all of you lucky dogs who've managed to evade capture," Grindor went on, "Well, your luck just ran out." The sarcastic smile transformed into a somewhat apologizing one. That expression looked completely out of place on Grindor's face, and that coupled with his last line made all of us "lucky dogs" feel pretty anxious. "The thing is, since you never got the 'treatment,' you're not immune the way they are." There was another, smaller uproar, along with cries of, "What!" and, "That's not fair!" My own voice could be heard in the cacophony.

"I know it's not fair!" Grindor shouted, in response, "But come on, is that really anything new? After what we've been through?" His voice was steadily rising in volume, getting angrier. Full of emotion. "At this point, anyone who still believes that life is fair is one sad, delusional sap, if you ask me!" he spat. That last comment instantly silenced the crowd and got several ashamed, downcast looks from its members.

Grindor settled down just as soon as the crowd did. "So," he said, in an oddly calm tone, "Everything I just said about being safe? Forget all of it. None of it applies to you. You can still be caught, you still can't make physical contact with the bigger bots, you know. But this time, if you're caught, we can't help you. So do yourself a favor, and don't get caught." His eyes started to glitter with that sarcastic smile again. His tone took up that aggravating mocking sound. "Really though, it shouldn't be a problem for hot shots, such as yourselves," he said, "After all, you've managed to escape for so long, what's a few more months, right?"

Months? Months!? Fragging months?! Slag! Slag, slag, slag! A round of curses started cycling in my head, as the painful, obvious question that I had been ignoring stared straight at me. I'd been so caught up in everything, I hadn't given a thought to how long this would take! Now, a totally new panic was shaking me awake. That ship in the back was huge! We were running out of supplies! We were going to be here for months! Possibly years! It would be forever before we finally escaped, if we ever escape! I was spiraling; I was suddenly unaware of anything around me. The worst part was that no one else was reacting (read: overreacting) the way I was. Apparently, they had already known this ahead of time. Being the only one to flip out like this made me feel even more like an idiot than I already did.

I don't know if this is what Grindor was aiming for when he made that comment, but I got an odd feeling that he knew he would get that reaction somehow… and was getting a sadistic pleasure out of it.

"Still," he went on, "Don't be stupid either. Unless we specifically ask you to, you shouldn't go outside. We can't afford to lose anyone." Grindor's voice got quieter again. By now, we were starting to realize that when Grindor's voice dropped, we were about to hear something bad, so we all got a little nervous. "Actually," he muttered, "That brings me to my next point."

"Oh, great!" someone shouted bitterly, "More good news!"

"Will you put a lid on it?!" snapped Grindor, "I know this is tiring, but it's important! This is a safety issue."

The crowd calmed down just a little.

"Well," he began, "The Patrol Team was doing their rounds today, and they reported…" Grindor faltered a little, another bad sign, "A, uh… er…"

"Out with it, already!" Hal yelled next to me, "What is it?"

"Give me a second!" Grindor snapped. Then he sighed. "I probably should just say it… Guys, last night, the decepticons set up a new base near here."

The ever-present hum in the auditorium rose to fever pitch. The same thought seemed to be going through everyone's heads: Decepticons… here? Big, vicious gun-toting robots that wanted to enslave us all? So close by? Can you really blame us for panicking?

"How near is 'near here?'" someone asked, anxiously.

"Like, 'don't light any flares' near here," Grindor stated, coldly.

That did it.

There was this like, explosion of sound and fury. Everyone was running around in a total state of panic. (Including me.) It was mass chaos. A lot of people were even screaming. I'm honestly surprised the roof didn't collapse on top of us, we were being so loud.

Grindor's ability to control a crowd was being sorely tested. Actually, he probably saw this coming, because as soon as he had finished speaking, he immediately started shouting. "Quiet all of you!" he roared. (Though it sounded pretty quiet, compared to the terror-filled racket we were making.) "Keep it down! They might hear you! DO YOU WANT TO BRING THEM ALL HERE?!"

The way the crowd instantly became silent after he said that is, like, magic or something.

"Okay" he breathed, "Not that that was an inappropriate reaction or anything, but that's exactly the kind of recklessness that's going to get us all caught. So like I said earlier, be careful while you're here. Don't go outside. And, if you run into any kind of trouble, come straight back here. The entranceway is too small for any decepticon. But, make sure you lose them before you come. We don't want our cover blown."

The crowd nodded again, but this time, everyone moved their heads slowly and mechanically, like they were sleep walking. I guess the gravity of everything Grindor said was starting to wear on us.

"And that," Grindor said, "Is all I have to say to you tonight! To be honest," he added, "I'm pretty sick of talking to you, anyway. You're all dismissed!"

People started filing out as soon as he stopped speaking, too tired out to care about anything else. I turned to Hal and the others. Backtrack looked like he was mad at someone, and Hal had the shocked, empty look of someone who'd just been told that everything he'd ever heard in his life was a lie. Blackout was expressionless, as usual, but I could tell how he was feeling because he was the first one to speak.

"Man, some talk, huh?" he understated. The tone he used wasn't the right one at all. It was full of awe, almost admiration. I was too worn down to snap at him and just scowled.

"Oh yeah, riveting," Backtrack spat. "Just great."

"I can't believe I have to go find him again," Hal murmured, like someone in a nightmare. The way he said that, "him," made me realize that he was referring to his "partner." I pitied Hal, but I also kind of grateful I wasn't in his position.

"I can't believe there's a decepticon base here." It was my turn to be disbelieving. "How the slag are we supposed to work with something like that hanging over our heads?"

"It can't be helped," Backtrack said, darkly. "We're all already here. It's too late to go anywhere else."

"Fragging decepticons," I muttered, "They'll ruin everything." In my head, I was condemning them all to the flames. Fear can turn to hatred incredibly fast.

Blackout still managed to be the only cheerful one. "Aw, c'mon Grid!" he said, throwing his arm clumsily around my shoulders. (And almost missing.) "We're not scared of any lousy decepticons, are we?"

"We?" I asked, suspiciously. He ignored me.

"Just you wait," Blackout went on, holding up a fist, "We'll show them."

"I really don't want to show them anything," I said, shaking him off. I rushed into my sleeping quarters before he could follow, and planted myself in my bunk, afraid and alone once more.

That night, I swore I heard giant footsteps, somewhere up above.

Author's Notes:

And thus, another chapter ends in a bad place. Poor Grid.

At 6060 words, this is the longest chapter yet. This chapter also marks the first time I've actually had to cut something out to make it shorter, a first for my fan fiction career. I almost had a heart attack at the time, but now I realize that the scene in question was pretty boring anyway. It was just Backtrack, Grid, and Hal showing off their abilities. It was neither interesting nor plot relevant, but still, that was the first time I've had to do something like that. What else will be sacrificed…?

For those of you who're wondering why I characterized Grid the way I did, I don't really have a reason. I wanted him to stand out, I guess.

I was hoping to get this chapter out before the end of January. I fail.

That's it for now. Later!