OMFG! I swear I was going to kill my muse if I didn't get my act together on this bitch of a chapter. The notes were frustrating to write, but getting the chapter started was even harder! I could have sworn I lost my muse more than once. Never again!

Alright, so... it seems like we're onto chapter 10 already? Wow! Didn't think I would make it this far. Gosh. No, we're not halfway yet... almost. XD But everyone's continuous support really pushes me forward. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I love you very much, my faithful readers.

Enjoy!

Megatron's optics widened with glee when he spotted the shuttle dropping out of the atmosphere. His spark stilled when he sensed Thunderblast's urges sneaking their way inside him, filling him with a lust that made him smirk with hunger. Standing beside him like a silent ghost, Cyclonus eyed the shuttle with curiosity. Megatron knew that he was just as curious as he was to meet the youngling properly, though he was more determined to find out whether he was truly the adoptive son of Optimus that Doubledealer had reported about during his stay with the Autobots.

If Rodimus had indeed been spending a lot of time with Optimus, he would no doubt be filled to the very core of his spark with purity and the willingness to protect the innocent, just like Starscream had reported how he witnessed him stand between Thunderblast's attack and those pathetic humans. The mere thought of Megatron's little brother's pure spark infuriated him, causing his armour to bristle slightly and he felt the nudge of concern from Thunderblast's spark. The anger inside him melted away and he attempted to shield his emotions from her. He didn't want to look weak in front of his Decepticons.

The gentle thud of the shuttle landing and its thrusters powering down drew him from out of his thoughts, dust kicking up in the wake of the touchdown. Hissing smoke escaped from the hydraulics and the hatch opened up, with Blackarachnia and Airachnid walking out, carrying Thundercracker and Skywarp on their shoulders, followed closely by Slipstream and Vortex with a stretcher in between them. Lying on the stretcher was the small form of the youngling – Rodimus Prime. From what his sensors were able to tell him, Megatron could detect the slow, steady pulse of the youngling's spark, indicating that he was in an induced stasis. He would not wake up unless he was given a counter injection.

Slipstream and Vortex stood before the two smaller mechs standing beside Megatron and Cyclonus – Buzzsaw and Rumble. Stormblue was not the only minion or spy Soundwave kept around. The two taller Decepticons transferred Rodimus' stretcher over to Rumble and Buzzsaw, who carried him away into the base, with Slipstream and Vortex escorting them as an act of keeping an optic of the youngling. But from the corner of Megatron's optics, a small femme – around Vortex's height – eyed Rodimus in an unusual manner, a manner that made him feel suspicious.

He did known the femme's name, but he knew that she was very dangerous to have aboard the Decepticon army. While she was a compatible fighter who did just about anything to win, she often used her feminine side to get what she wanted whenever she wanted. She was obviously someone to be kept an optic on during Rodimus' stay. He would not have his plans ruined by some femme who could not control her need to get in the pants of some handsome mech or beautiful femme whenever she desired.

Megatron's attention was diverted when his com-link quickly alerted him that Soundwave was trying to contact him. He opened up a private channel and the deep, raspy voice of his most trustworthy friend echoed through his audio receptors as he questioned, "When, Megatron, do I get a chance to 'speak' with the youngling?"

"All in good time, Soundwave," Megatron replied with a slight tinge of understanding in his tone. "I know how much you wish to get into his head, but I want you to be patient. I would like to talk with the youngling myself – face to face – when he has settled in after he has awakened from his stasis."

"Thank you, Megatron," Soundwave said and he disconnected the com-link. Megatron could have sworn he heard a faint hint of a purr in his voice when he thanked him. It was... unusual for the emotionless mech to show even a tiny amount of it. The last time Soundwave did it, it had been when he got to interrogate Optimus after he had been captured by the Decepticons a long time ago.

However, he was forced to look away when Starscream and Thunderblast approached him. It was obviously time to receive a report from them. Shaking his head and dismissing the thoughts for now, Megatron straightened his posture and went to meet with them.

"Starscream, Thunderblast, report," he growled warningly, making them flinch under his threatening growl. He noticed amongst the group that someone was missing. "Where is Ramjet?"

"Springer... killed him, Sir," Starscream muttered, bowing his head to avoid his master's glare. "After Rodimus ordered him to create a distraction for our team, Thundercracker reported that Skyfire and a squadron of F22 Raptors were ahead and he was shot down along with Skywarp. Springer took advantage of the chaos by twisting around during midair transformation and shot down Ramjet. Ramjet fell and he burst into flames. He didn't even survive the crash-landing."

Without warning, Megatron lashed out with one arm forward and grabbed Starscream by the throat, yanking him towards his face as he bore his fangs, growling menacingly. "You mean to tell me that Thundercracker and the rest of the squadron were distracted by some pathetic little triple-changer, and all you can tell me is that they were outsmarted by him?!" He pulled Starscream closer, lips curling up into a fierce snarl. "I should kill you right where you stand if Thunderblast hadn't privately reported to me and Soundwave that it was she, Vortex, and Slipstream who captured the youngling."

He tossed Starscream aside and he landed in a pile of Martian sand, bright red dust scattering and rocks bouncing off his armour. Megatron stomped heavily over to him, towering over his trembling vice commander. "What else have you and your squad failed to do, Starscream?" He rose one foot above Starscream's head, preparing to crush his cranium as flat as a pancake.

Starscream winced and made an attempt to shield his face. "That's all I have to tell you, master!" he wailed, his voice pitching with panic. "Please, don't kill me! I fought the youngling and let him gain the advantage like you ordered me to. I did nothing else, master! I swear it!"

A hand rested upon Megatron's shoulder, causing him to glance over and see Thunderblast's sultry red optics looking into his own, almost as though she was silently pleading him to not hurt Starscream. "Megatron, Starscream is telling the truth," she told him gently, her own tone hiding a hint of fear for what she was doing. "Please just let him go."

Growling dangerously, Megatron shrugged off the hand and slammed his foot into the ground, landing with a loud thud right by Starscream's head. He leaned over his vice commander and gripped him in one of his clawed hands. "The next time you fail again, Starscream, I will not let you live. Have I made myself clear?" he shouted.

"Yes, master, of course!" Starscream whimpered. "As clear as crystal."

"Good," Megatron sneered and released his hold. Starscream fell to the ground, his red optics blinking up his master in surprise. "Now get out of my sight..."

Starscream didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and made a bolt to the base.

Megatron sighed tiredly, bowing his head. It was becoming harder for him to command his army than he originally thought. But the fact remained that while he was in charge, there was to be no failure. Failure was no longer an option, and he was determined to see to it that the Autobots would be without hope. Even with Rodimus in their clutches, he knew that it would be only a matter of time before the Autobots found their base of operations. They would have to break Rodimus quickly, but no one was sure about the limitations of the youngling. However, if his theory on the youngling being heavily influenced by the Autobots was correct... then no doubt that he would be a very stubborn one to crack.

But Autobots can break just as easily as a human mind. If you played your cards right, then it should not be too complicated. They just had to find the right way to do.

Megatron felt the familiar nudge of concern in his spark. He growled softly and looked over at his sparkmate. She gazed up at him with an emotion unlike anything he had seen before. He sighed wearily as she snaked an arm around his waist, nudging at his spark again with that same emotion again. He supposed she did deserve some kind of reward for her hard work in capturing Rodimus. If it weren't for her, then he would not be in their clutches right about now.

Turning to face her, he wrapped his arms around her smaller form, pulling her close and taking her lips into his own, his glossa then sneaked its way into her mouth, tasting her venomous features and exploring what he could touch within. How could he deny that feeling of lust within his spark? The need to have her was strong, stronger than he originally thought. He could do whatever he wanted with her whenever he desired.

He felt her vocal processors vibrate into a purr, encouraging him to keep on going. His spark sang along with his lust, and he knew that it wanted to unite his spark with hers like on the night they first bonded. He sensed her spark wanting to do the same, along with his interface systems. It was almost as strong as his own desire. The ferocity between them became so strong that it was impossible to tell whose spark belonged to and what message was being sent out to via the bond or the lustful tango. Even their bodies were becoming overheated by their deep passion for each other. They were so overheated that the air around them became hotter than normal. Primus, damnit, he wanted to take her right here, right now!

But he had more important things to take of and Megatron willed himself to stop, forcing his lips to remove from hers. He felt his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily from their passionate moment. By Primus, no one alive could make him want to bond so badly with the femme that stood before him.

"Why did you stop?" Thunderblast asked, pouting slightly that made him laugh deeply.

"I wanted to congratulate you on a successful mission in capturing the youngling," Megatron smirked. "It is not often that the sparkmate of a Decepticon leader would be able to achieve something so daring."

"By your will alone, Megatron," Thunderblast purred gleefully. She leaned into him and rested her head upon his chest. "Everything you wish will be given through me."

Megatron frowned and looked down at her where the sparkling rested. He shook his head and asked, "How are you managing?"

"I'm doing well, and so is the sparkling," Thunderblast smiled, placing a hand upon her extra warm abdomen. "It won't be long now before we'll know what its gender will be."

"I was not worried about the sparkling," he growled, the grip on her shoulders tightening, making her wince in pain, but he pretended not to notice. "I do not care about it. I was more concerned about you because I need you around to command the femmes and keep them in their place."

She sighed, bowing her head, "I'm fine, Megatron. You have nothing to worry about."

Nodding in satisfaction, Megatron released his hold and turned his back on her. What came out of her mouth next surprised him.

"When will be able to interrogate the youngling?"

Megatron glanced over his shoulder, a smirk crossing his lips. "We will do it soon, love," he promised. "However, I have more concerns about that femme who was eyeing Rodimus as he was being taken into the base. Do you know who she is?"

Thunderblast frowned suspiciously. "I believe that was Flamewar," she scowled. "That femme has absolutely no control over her desires whenever she sees a handsome mech or a beautiful femme. She will do just about anything in her power to get what she wants. I had to fight her in order to get your attention to become my sparkmate in the past!"

"Then I suggest that you keep an optic on her," he suggested, coming forward and stroking the side of her faceplates with a sharp claw. "It's just in case she does something irrational."

The dark femme nodded. "I promise, but I can't always keep an optic on her due to my duties and my sparkling that I have to attend to."

Megatron snorted and he leaned forward, kissing her lustfully again. He sent waves upon waves of endless bounds of desire and hunger for her into her spark, letting her know that he wanted her more than ever. He pulled away and told her, "Meet me in my quarters. I have important business to attend with."

She smirked and slowly began making her way back to base. "Don't take too long," she purred.

Megatron reached for her aft and pinched it in between his claws, earning a startled cry from her lips. "I will not be long at all," he promised.

Once she was out of earshot, Megatron turned to Cyclonus, who had been standing extremely patiently a short distance away. He motioned to him to come forward and he obeyed without question. "Tell Scavenger to inject the youngling with the stasis counter," he ordered him. "Once he starts waking up, meet me in the brig so that we may... speak to him personally."

Cyclonus bowed. "Yes, Lord Megatron."

"...and that's the whole story, Optimus," Springer finished.

During the past few hours since their return to the Autobot base, the teams who had been present during the attack in Mission City had been constantly hounded by the other Autobots, demanding to know what was going on and why Rodimus wasn't with them. Hound and Bluestreak had been ready for this and had issued crowd control in order to keep them back. Mirage and Skyfire had carefully carried the stasis induced Arcee into the medical bay to prepare for an emergency operation. From what Ratchet had said, it had sounded very serious.

Sideswipe and Bumblebee had followed Ratchet, Skyfire, and Mirage to the med bay, escorting them and keeping everyone well away from them. Sideswipe even threatened one mech that if he got too close, then he will slice off his head without hesitation, shocking everyone. Obviously the mysterious disappearance of Rodimus was affecting him a lot more than anyone thought.

While they had been doing this, Prowl, Springer and Ironhide had managed to squeeze past the crowd and make their way to Optimus' quarters, knowing that the former Autobot commander would want an explanation to what was going on. When they had arrived and Optimus had questioned to what was going on, Springer had quietly explained the story to what had happened on the battlefield, leaving none of the details out.

After he had finished, Optimus' expression had gone completely neutral. Prowl and Ironhide gently pushed Springer behind them, creating a barrier in between them in case Optimus decided to get a bit aggressive. But there was no reaction, baffling them.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Optimus stood up from his couch, his legs shaking from the shocking news that had been given to him. "Where's Arcee?" he questioned simply, his tone also unreadable.

"She's been taken to the med bay for surgery," Prowl answered softly. "But Ratchet hasn't given us an update on her status since our return. From the looks of it, though, it's serious."

Optimus turned his head over to Springer, who had his head bowed and a guilty look in his optics. "Springer, what happened wasn't your fault," he said gently. "Do not blame yourself. You were only doing what Rodimus sent you to do."

Springer just nodded robotically in response.

Once again, Optimus turned to Prowl, and when he spoke again, his tone became commanding. "Exactly how well did Rodimus' training go with you, Prowl? I need you to be honest with me."

Prowl sighed, "While I didn't exactly have a lot of time with Rodimus, we spent fifteen Earth hours week training his spark out for the past four weeks after having his training schedule changed. Originally it had been once a week due to his inexperience with the real thing, and he has been training for five months. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how long he can really last for, and it probably isn't long."

Optimus brushed the bridge of his nasal plate in discomfort and uncertainty, obviously not liking the results. Sighing, he announced, "I will return to commanding duty at once."

Prowl, Ironhide and Springer stumbled in shock. Prowl glared at Optimus furiously. "You can't," he shouted. "Your back injury prevents you from fighting at your full capacity! If you fight Megatron and you suffer a seizure, then you'll be as good as dead!"

Optimus growled and whirled upon the vice commander, hands balling into fists. "We don't have a choice!" he cried. "The Autobots need someone to look up to and to command them until we get Rodimus back. I might not have the Matrix of Leadership in my chest cavity anymore, but without a strong beacon of hope to support them, then everyone will lose faith and the entire planet that we call home will be destroyed! I cannot – will not – let that happen to my people!"

Prowl stared defiantly at Optimus, his armour bristling for a moment until he sighed and nodded. "Alright, Optimus..."

Ironhide smiled, but then he frowned. "You obviously have some sort of plan in getting back into the fight, don't you?" he asked, smirking.

Optimus chuckled and winked an optic at his old friend and guardian. "You know me all too well, old friend," he smiled.

"You mind telling us what it is?" the black mech questioned.

"I–"

A com-link suddenly starts bleeping and Optimus, Springer, and Ironhide glanced over to Prowl, each of them lifting an optic ridge at him. Prowl shrugged and answered, "Prowl here, what is it, Bluestreak?"

"Sorry to bother you, Prowl, but President Barack Obama wishes to speak with you along with Optimus."

Optimus felt his jaw drop slightly. Why would the President – of all people – call him at this time? It was rare to receive calls from one of the most powerful humans on the face of this planet. Curious, he nodded. "Patch in the call to my computer, Bluestreak," he answered. "We'll take it from here."

"Of course, Sir," Bluestreak answered. "I'm transferring the call now."

Optimus nodded his gratitude, even though Bluestreak couldn't see it, and made his way over to the computer at his desk. Once he sat down and Prowl was standing behind him, he sighed, "Ironhide, Springer, please leave the room and get yourselves attended to. I'm sure Ratchet will want to look you over just in case. And Springer, I'm definitely sure you want to check on Arcee."

"Yes, Sir, I do," Springer said absently.

"Thank you, Optimus," Ironhide smiled, but then frowned. "Weren't you going to tell us about your plan?"

Optimus chuckled slightly. "I'll tell you later," he said. "We may end up needing it when we go to get Rodimus back."

Ironhide nodded his understanding and gently forced Springer to come along with him to the med bay. He locked the door behind them in order to ensure that no one would disturb them during this little meeting.

Satisfied that no one would bother them, Optimus switched on his computer and the aged face of the first African-American President appeared on the computer. "Mr. President," Optimus greeted, bowing his head respectfully. "To what do we owe the pleasure of you calling me at this time of night?"

"Mr. Optimus," the President smiled, "I apologise for calling you at this time, but this could not wait because of the urgency of the situation, so I'll get straight to the point. Due to the sensitive matter of this planet after the Space Bridge incident back in Chicago last year, our race has been on edge for a long time and has become wary of our alien visitors. But, thanks to the heroic efforts of one of your Autobots – Rodimus was it? – who selflessly defended the people of Mission City... we wish to offer a lending hand to your people by helping you get back the very one who saved their lives."

Optimus blinked in surprise, and he could have sworn that he felt Prowl stiffen beside him. He obviously never thought that these strange creatures who can hold a grudge for a long time be changed by one simple act of courage.

He frowned, carefully considering his answer for he knew that one word could offend this powerful man. He lowered his head, his gaze resting upon the computer screen with calm optics. "What changed your people's mind?" he questioned softly.

The President reached from behind his desk and pulled out a newspaper that had a picture of Rodimus on the front cover. On top of the picture were big, bold letters that read: 'Heroic Autobot Saves Mission City Residents.'

The President proceed to read out loud, "Thanks to this Autobot's courageous act in saving these people's lives, the human race wish to apologise to the Autobots for believing that they could not protect the Earth that we love so much. Now, we wish to extend a hand in a gesture of friendship and offer them whatever assistance they require to combat against the ones who took the Autobot known as Rodimus Prime who saved these precious lives."

Optimus nodded, before asking, "How do your people plan in helping us against the Decepticons?"

"Well," said the President, "we can start by not just reinstating N.E.S.T. and building up new technologies in order to help fight and anyone else who threatens the peace of the Earth, but to have an ambassador for both the humans and Autobots."

"Did you have someone in mind?" Prowl asked.

The President nodded. "Yes, and I believe he will be perfect for this job, considering his relationship with your people that he had in the past."

Optimus looked over at Prowl as he switched his vocal processor over to Cybertronian so that they could talk in private. "What do you think?"he clicked to the black and white mech.

"It seems like a good idea,"warbled Prowl, "but we should be careful on how we do this. I've done my research on the human race's history, and it's badly marked with gruesome affairs, ones that make our war look tame."

"I know," Optimus replied quietly, "but the humans have helped us in the past, and we have made friends with them. If it had not been for Sam Witwicky, we would not have found the Allspark Cube. Would it had not been for General William Lennox and Chief Master Sergeant Robert Epps and their soldiers; we would have lost the fight completely back in Mission City, Egypt, and Chicago. These humans show great potential, Prowl, and I believe they are ready for our technology. We could also use their assistance as well when we decide to go after Rodimus."

Prowl nodded. "Very well, Optimus. It's your decision after all. We could discuss it more in a meeting with the other officers. See what they have to say."

Optimus returned his attention back onto the President, leaning forward in his chair. "We will consider your offer, but I wish to speak with the other officers. Some of them will not be pleased by this, but as a whole, we wish to consider other options before we move forward. You will have our answer in four days time."

The President nodded. "You and your Autobots take all the time you need," he said seriously. "But our friend Rodimus will definitely not have much time considering how much I know how war works. But I can promise you this: Whatever decision you choose, my people will always be grateful for what Rodimus has done for us, and we will stand ready to help in whatever way possible."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Optimus smiled politely. "I wish you a good evening, Sir."

"You too, Mr. Optimus Prime," the President returned. "Good night."

Optimus switched off the computer. He sighed tiredly and placed both hands on his faceplates, rubbing his eyes. It had been a long while since he had dealt with politics, but it certainly was wonderful to be back on the saddle. He just hoped that his idea for Wheeljack was enough to make it possible. Shaking his head when he saw the concerned look in Prowl's optics, he glanced over to him and said in a firm voice, "Get all the officers together and we'll them in the Briefing Room. We have an offer to consider."

Prowl's smile grew larger than normal. "At once, Sir," he said and headed out the room, but he stopped in the middle of the doorway, glancing over at Optimus. "And might I say, Sir: It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, Prowl," Optimus smiled back.

"Ugh," Rodimus groaned, grabbing his head as he sat up from his unusual recharge. His head ached more than the time he had first woken up in the Autobot base after they had caught him and he had been injected with that knockout drug that Ratchet used on him to keep him quiet. This headache was a lot worse than that, and it made him feel really dizzy.

He had been aware during the entire time, but he didn't know what was going on. As far as he could have told, he knew that he had been carried by the Decepticons into some kind of shuttle and had been lying there for a long time, time that would have taken him to make at least two or three trips to get to Mission City and back.

Blinking his bright blue optics, he glanced around the area, only to find three walls, a ceiling, a floor... and a very familiar forcefield. He growled and stood up on wobbly feet, his thoughts drifting back to when he had been locked up in the brig in order to be contained before he had officially joined with the Autobots. However, there was something different about the forcefield that kept him from escaping. It was red. The Autobot forcefield was blue, and the room had been a lot brighter than this.

... Frag... He was most definitely not in the Autobot base!

The memories of what had occurred before his capture came flooding back to him, memories of him fighting Starscream furiously until the screams of his best friend – Arcee – drew his attention. He remembered seeing her being held down by Slipstream and Vortex while Thunderblast punched the living slag out of her. He even remembered rushing towards them in an attempt to save Arcee, but Thunderblast had shot at a group of helpless humans being escorted by the military, and then standing between them and the ball of plasma, taking the shot and falling to the ground while his armour melted.

He glanced down at his body to confirm this memory and found that he was in his protoform and covered in burns unlike anything he'd seen before.

Then the memory of him weakly telling the humans to run before Thunderblast came toward him and injected him with some kind of brightly glowing fluid in his neck, and he had fallen. The last thing he heard was Arcee screaming his name and then nothing.

Rodimus' body trembled, his armour rattling along with his emotions as he recalled how he heard absolutely nothing after Arcee screamed. Was it possible that she had been killed by the Decepticons during his unconsciousness? No, no it couldn't be true! Springer would be furious if he learned that the femme he cared about so much had been killed. Heck he would probably kill Rodimus if anything happened to her! Rodimus had promised he would take care of her and now... now...

His legs wobbled as realisation dawned upon him.

Arcee was dead... and it was all because he told her to protect the humans at all costs. It was all his fault!

Sitting back on the berth and lying down, he curled up into a ball and allowed the tears to finally fall down his cheeks, pathetic sobs escaping from his vocal processor. He had failed to protect the one femme he cared about, the one who had made things better for him when Sideswipe and Bumblebee weren't around. She was the only one who made him feel as if the world really mattered and life worth fighting for.

"I'm sorry, Arcee," he hiccupped quietly. "Please forgive me for failing to look after you."

His spark throbbed painfully as memories of the time he had spent with her came rushing back into his head. Everything hurt, but his emotions made the pain more bearable. His sobs continued until he lifted his head from his protective ball, hate soon replacing the sorrow as he made a vow.

"I swear upon my spark, Arcee," he snarled, "I will kill those that snuffed out your life essence." His thoughts drifted over to Thunderblast, Slipstream and Vortex, the ones he saw before he blacked out. While he knew that he couldn't take on Thunderblast, he knew very well that he was more than a match for Slipstream and Vortex. "I'll kill them for what they've done..." he snarled.

With the pain pushed aside for now and his vow made, he sat back up and wiped away his tears of grief. It was time to focus on finding a way out of this place. But first, his weapons and armour would have to be online. Even though he recalled what Prowl told him about the Decepticons always taking precautions when it came to dealing with prisoners, he still had to check to be sure. He closed his optics and searched for the switch that would bring them back on. Nothing. He tried searching into the back of his processor, but found nothing there as well.

"Fuck!" he cursed angrily, slamming a fist into the wall behind him, leaving a dent in it.

Then the voice of Prowl echoed through his processor as he recalled the very first thing he was taught on his first day of training: "Remember to remain calm at all times. Being angry, frustrated, frightened or wallowing in grief will only cloud your judgement. The Decepticons will do everything they can to use your emotions against you and exploit your weaknesses. Do not give them the satisfaction that they're winning, and remember everything I have taught you. You will find a way back to us. Just bide your time and hold on as long as possible. We will come for you, Rodimus. I can promise you that."

A loud bang startled Rodimus from his thoughts and he heard three pairs of feet coming from down the corridor.

Knowing that he was about to have company, the young mech pushed his body as close as he possibly could into his corner in order to gain some form of advantage. Anything would save him when he least expected it, and he needed to take whatever help he could get.

The appearance of three mechs didn't surprise him, for he recognised Starscream as being one of them. Megatron was the other one in the middle with the malicious grin upon his lips. Definitely Megatron, he thought bitterly. But the one on Megatron's right escaped his processor because he had never seen him nor heard of him before. However, from the looks of this purple and pinkish mech, he looked very dangerous despite his silent appearance.

Rodimus sighed and stared defiantly at the three mechs. Primus, he was going to be in for one hell of time with these guys. He knew that his emotions couldn't save him now nor could his spark as he faced down the very one who had sworn revenge upon him the day he took the life of Harbinger.

So... is Arcee really dead? What kind of plan does Optimus have? Will the Autobots rescue Rodimus before it's too late? So many questions, so little time. Must wait until the next chapter, everyone! Hehehe. Until then, see ya!