A/N: Not much to say other than the Underworld is based on the Greek equivalent...in fact, most of the fic is based on Greek Mythology, so spot the myths XD Reviews are welcome! Characters (C) HASTAK


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Optimus had noticed something as different about the City of the Dead as he walked the tattered roads: the amount of decadence and decomposition was unbearable. He could see an orgy forming itself with skeletons and half-rotted corpses fornicated. He could see as femmes' bodies fell apart yet they still waved their assets to the weary leader.

The rule was to never look back but he was tempted to revisit the scene. Optimus hurried his step, almost tripping with a drunken carcass and her lover. "Excuse me but where exactly am I?" The femme grunted awakened most cranky, her gunshots covered in maggots. "Y'er in Luxuria, place o' lust and memories." "Memories?" the half-digested Cybertronian sat up with a crooked smile. She grabbed a most wicked bottle and shook it.

"Just one swig of this and you're as good as new." The dead leader picked up the burnt-peanut smell that reminded him of hydrogen cyanide, lethal to humans. Optimus turned down the drink and kept going. Peddlers in various degrees roamed the ground, one even licking the soil in hallucinating stupor.

Along the putrid walls, Optimus could see dirty mirrors that shone with the minimal light the Necropolis received. As if they were eyes, the mirrors peered into the living worlds; something Optimus had not done since his departure from the Prime dimension. Time, as it seemed, went a lot faster in the decaying city than the dead leader had hoped.

Optimus plucked a particularly muddy mirror and sat down against the walls; he decided to take a voluntary break from all that walking. Dusting off some of the filth, he found himself looking through Sam's bathroom mirror, perfectly aligned with the sleeping human's bed. Whoops… wrong person, he initially thought until he heard an unnerving chatter from under the young Witwicky's bed. Sam had spent the entire day in and out of school and training with Jazz and the newly stated Lamborghini twins, making his sleep seem almost comatose.

Frenzy, still partially reconstructed, crawled along Sam's hardwood floors, making sure he wasn't heard when he killed the boy. One quick severed artery and the fleshbag would choke to death with his own blood. That red stuff always fascinated both the hacker and Barricade, who was waiting outside; maybe it was the metal-based composition, the sounds it would make when it spurted or the vivid color that meant demise.

"SAM!" Optimus screamed horrified, not at all concerned if the boy heard him, as the assassin drew his shuriken blade closer to the jugular arteries. The dead leader trembled, unable to stop another death, and kept screaming, disturbing others from their eternal vigils to the living. "SAM, WAKE UP!"

The young Witwicky shuddered involuntarily, distracting Frenzy from his attack. The Decepticon flurried against the poster-lined walls and hid in the shadows. 'Dammit dammit dammit!' Frenzy cursed, now reaching back to Sam's side. 'Let's try this again…' A snore was heard and just as quickly the metal gleamed with red iron. 'Witwicky dead! Witwicky dead! Witwicky dead! Witwicky…" Frenzy stopped as a certain human growled.

"I wouldn't say that if I were you," To the Decepticon's beady eyes, Sam's glare neared from territorial to psychotic. The sabot spear unfolded in the young man's hand, threatening Frenzy's remaining processor. "What do you want?" "I'll never tell…" the hacker slithered to the side of the cramped bedroom. Readying his disk-shuriken, the Decepticon took aim while Sam closed the door.

Just as sudden, Frenzy launched the projectiles straight towards the human's ribcage. Sam quickly deflected and rolled to the floor, under his bed, providing a temporary cover. The Decepticon jumped onto the mattress quite literally on top of Sam and with his trademark psychosis, hacked the furniture. Frenzy's metallic frame shone against the moonlight, jittering as he scanned the massacred bed. "No Witwicky?"

"Guess again." was the hacker's only caution before the sabot spear was driven all the way through. Screeching in pain, Frenzy convulsed, involuntarily launching ten projectiles when Sam pulled out his weapon. Taking advantage, the young man grabbed Frenzy's head and, with a kick to open the bathroom door, submerged it into the toilet bowl. "What are you doing here?"

Frenzy struggled in vain to keep his circuits from water damage, ironically choking. "No fucking human…" Another dunk into the toilet. "I'm sorry, what was that?" By now, Bumble had heard the commotion and transformed. "Sam?!" "I'm ok, Bumble! Just caught this sorry excuse of a boogeyman trying to kill me!" The young Witwicky held the Decepticon, who was still trying to kill him. "Damn you all; we'll have our revenge!"

"Really? I thought you had your revenge when you killed Optimus." Bumble chided, hologram eyes icy cold. Frenzy grinned, watching the reluctant Prime shift. "That two-faced fag was the beginning!" Bumblebee instinctively strangled the metallic vermin. "Respect the dead." Noticing the atmosphere, Sam placed a hand over Bumble's chokehold. "Bumble, let him go and check on my parents and Mikaela; let me worry about Frenzy."

00000

Ironhide tried his best to be quiet but an Autobot his size makes a racket, especially through a cramped backdoor. Expecting a full speech, all the weapons specialist found was a sleeping Ratchet. His displaced eye meant that Poochy was working with the medic to fix Arcee. Ironhide sighed, himself tired from the trip. As he picked up Ratchet's yellow CMO uniform jacket, he yawned and fell besides them.

'Hide's hand couldn't help but hover over Ratchet's face; he'd do anything for him, even if he couldn't admit it. The Marine then coaxed Poochy's remaining vines into replacing the eye-optic. During his trip back to the base from the Lennox home, Ironhide had given thought to what Sarah said…and set it aside.

'Hide felt his metal fingertips burn as they trailed further south to the medic's neckline, further suicide attempts littered his throat. The weapons specialist shuddered, not just for worry for his comrade. A surge of desire took over Ironhide's motor skills, making burrow his mouth onto the largest scars. Instinctively, the medic gasped awake to face the soldier's lust-glazed eyes. "Not a word…" Sensing the sexual frustration, Ratchet motioned to exit the room for a moment, to get Poochy in a cooler place. "I'd never." The CMO whispered while Ironhide lounged for a muting lip lock.