Author's note: In the movie in my head, Leonard Nimoy is voicing Fangface -- Fang is a good bit more animated than Spock, but that warm, rough voice -- oh, yeah. That's totally and completely Fangface. Think of Nimoy when he's doing a speaking gig or a con appearance and being really funny.
* * * * *
Wheelie angrily kicked at a empty plastic soda bottle, sending it skittering and bouncing down an alley. "I was trying to help!" he told no one in particular, with real anger. "I hate them. I hate them. Slag you anyway, Bumblebee!"
He was alone. It was dark. It was a long, long, long way to the Autobot base. Wheelie was fast, but he lived in terror of human cars -- zipping down the freeway in RC car mode just seemed like a prescription to get flattened, his spark chamber burst like a balloon, and the end of Wheelie!
And I don't know how to get there without following the freeways anyway. I don't have a slagging map! What am I supposed to do, go to a library and use Google there? 'Hi everyone, don't mind the midget robot ...' Ratchet wouldn't give me a damned aircard. Shit, he wouldn't even install a com-card for Autobot frequencies. I can't even scream for help until my energon runs out. I can't even use a pay phone ... and even if I did, nobody's given me their cell numbers! Fuck them, anyway. Fuck
He had no idea where Bee and Mikaela had gone. The shop was still crawling with police, and judging by the way they'd reacted to Bee, which was to reach for their guns, he had no illusions about waiting at the shop for Mikaela. Bee might be well armored enough to view small arms fire as merely a hazard to the humans around him, but Wheelie's knew his spark might as well have been wrapped in tin foil for all that he had any protection from projectile weapons. They could kill him, and easily ...
Maybe in a day or two he might return to the shop, but right now they were turning both the shop and the surrounding terrain inside out looking for evidence. A couple of unfortunate policemen had been picking through the contents of a Dumpster when he'd left. He suspected that they would be there for days, on and off.
Where in the slagging hells am I supposed to go?It was really his worst nightmare. He had no one -- absolutely no one -- he could turn to.
And then, with crushing force, a large metallic paw slammed down on top of him. It drove him into the ground so hard that he felt his struts bend. "Gotcha!" A rough, deep voice growled in his ear.
He screamed, "Let me go, you son-of-a-sparkless-drone! Slag you! Slag you to the Quintesson hells!"
Much to his shock, the paw lifted up. He cringed, expecting a killing blow, and when it didn't come he bolted -- heading for cover as fast as he could. There was an small basement window across the alley and he figured he could dive headfirst through the glass ... if he hit it hard enough, the panes might break. Maybe. He weighed all of a couple of ten pounds and was halfway expecting just to bounce off.
He didn't get to find out if his mass could trump the strength of the glass. Suddenly, there was a foot in his way. He ran into the foot at full throttle, flipped end over end, and hit the building's wall so hard he was knocked silly as his systems reset themselves.
When he could see and think again, he realized he was face down in a puddle and something was sniffing his back. Puffs of air washed across his body as the mech used an olfactory sensor to give him a good once-over.
"Fuck you," he said, in English, expecting to be killed. The paws on either side of his head were armed with silvery blades and powerful-looking pistons attached to long "boney" fulcrums. This mech could probably rip any of the Autobots' armor open like a can opener. He didn't need claws to kill Wheelie -- he could kill Wheelie simply by stepping on him. Those paws were nearly as big as Wheelie's whole body!
"Tcha! Wheelie, Wheelie, Wheelie. Of all the unlikely places I'd ever see you again ... didn't recognize you at first or I'd have been a lot nicer. You've got a new form, though you still smell the same."
Wheelie scrambled to his feet, then stared up in shock at the owner of that honey-warm rough baritone. "F-F-Fangface!"
"Well, it's certainly not Cringer, if that's who you were expecting." The cat sat on his haunches, and swished a tail that was bristling with triple laser rifles around his front feet. "Good grief, Wheelie, it's been centuries and you're still a midget."
"I've been in stasis most of that time," he said, as terror turned into a flash of anger that warred with confused recognition, "So it hasn't been centuries for me. You scared the slag out of me, you jerk. I thought I was going to be dead."
"You realize I've been stalking you for almost an hour?" Fangface sounded smug.
"No, I didn't, you jerk. I seem to recall you're damned good at stalking people and you know it." Wheelie fought back the urge to kick Fangface in the shins. It wouldn't hurt the predacon and it might give him a flat tire. He decided he was just mad. It had been a lousy day and Fang's presence in front of him was just surreal. He thought he probably should be greeting Fang with glee, but he couldn't seem to find a happy spot anywhere in his spark at the moment. With real irritation he demanded, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Better question is what you are doing here. Starscream said you were feeding us information. Did the 'bots figure it out and kick you out? I'm amazed they didn't kill you, if that's the case." Fangface heaved a very expressive sigh through his olfactory sensors. He seemed unoffended, or perhaps oblivious, to Wheelie's building anger. "Optimus has his holier-than-thou moments, but he certainly wouldn't hesitate to kill a Decepticon spy."
"You're working with Starscream?" That seemed incredible to Wheelie, and short-circuited the good mad he was working up.
Fangface shrugged, rocking his shoulders upward with remarkable flexibility. "Desperation makes for odd bedfellows."
"You could always eat him." Wheelie found he was relaxing a bit. Where was that happy reaction? He really should be going, 'Fang!' in a tone of utter delight, not growling obscenities at him.
"You sound hopeful, brat." Fangface chuckled. That chuckle did it -- Wheelie blinked, and stared up at Fangface. It was really, really, really Fang. For real. Fangface had just materialized out of the darkness and was nearly sitting with his tail around his feet and looking smug in front of him. Fang continued, "For now, no. Shredding Starscream into tinsel is an appealing fantasy, and one I've shared with him a time or two, but that'd mean I would have to take his place, and I'd rather not be a direct report to Megatron."
Wheelie laughed hesitantly. He could see Fang's point, now that the Decepticon put it that way. Starscream was self-serving, violent, and arrogant. Megatron was all of that with a side order of insanely homicidal when the mood struck him. Wheelie had seen Megatron kill his own troops just because he was pissed off many, many times. And then the dam broke. With real joy, he said, "Fang, I have missed you! What are you doing here?"
"You first, runt." Fang nudged Wheelie with his nose, knocking Wheelie off his feet. That affectionate greeting made Wheelie grin ... it was so familiar, so much a part of his past life, and he'd never, ever thought he'd see Fang, ever again. Fang continued, in a mocking tone of voice that wasn't nearly as mean as it sounded because you had to know Fang to know he was all bluff, "I'm bigger, older, and meaner than you. Don't you forget that."
Wheelie laughed as he picked himself back up. "Bigger and older, yeah, sure! But the last? You should have been born an Autobot, you idiot."
"Was, for a few years, you know." Fang shrugged again. Wheelie did know about that, as the Decepticons had regularly teased Fangface about it -- something that generally made Fang laugh, rather than get angry. Fang continued, "Had better ideas. The 'bots are gonna lose, and I do not want to go down with them. At some point, you got to look out for your own aft, Wheelie. And you still haven't answered my question. Where did you disappear to for four hundred years only to show up in this alley?"
"Disappeared. Right." Wheelie shook his head. "I didn't disappear, I got drafted."
"Figured it was something like that," Fang nudged him again, this time with a lot less force. Wheelie put a hand up on Fang's nose and rested his head against Fang's cheek, suddenly, remembering what it had been like for the two of them. He had been safe with Fangface. Fang whuffed another one of those very expressive sighs. He said, sounding bitterly angry, "Every small mech in the entire base got snatched up by Starscream, didn't they? Including mine. Starscream denied he took you, but I'm not even sure he kept records good enough to tell. I bet he threw all of you in a hold of a ship and activated a stasis field."
His. Fang had always been ferociously protective, and possessive, and had sheltered him from the worst of the violence and savagery at the Decepticon base where Wheelie had been created. Fang had claimed he needed a servant, and had picked Wheelie out of a lot of several dozen little mechs when Wheelie had barely been a week old. All he could really remember was Fang, until the day that Starscream's goons had done exactly what Fang supposed: seize every little guy on the base that couldn't run and hide fast enough. Wheelie had been running an errand, had thought he was immune because he was known to be Commander Fangface's assistant. He'd been wrong -- Starscream had respected no one's claims, and he suspected most of the Decepticons who'd lost their help that day had just requisitioned more from the next batch of new little mechs.
An hour later, it had been lights-out for four centuries. He was still pretty pissed off about that.
"I hear you joined Optimus's crew. Optimus is not half bad, but ..." Fang nudged Wheelie in the chest, and chuckled, "... but he's going to lose. And even he admits that's a possibility, if you get him in the right mood."
"I like Optimus," Wheelie said, quietly. Thinking of Optimus made him feel guilty for liking Fangface. They were enemies. Shouldn't he have to chose? Somewhat defensively, he said, "He's the first mech who's treated me with respect since I worked for you."
"Yeah, he's cool," Fang agreed. Fang's nonchalant tone set Wheelie's mind at ease. Fang didn't mind that Wheelie truly liked the enemy's leader. Fangface continued, "Maybe someday ..." he trailed off, and shook his head vigorously. "Believe it or not, I'm Starscream's second right now. First time he's put someone in that role who wasn't a Seeker, and it's because I beat the crap out of all of his Seekers, at the same time, six on one. He keeps trying to get me to grow wings, and that ain't happening."
"You? You guys get on like fire and gasoline!"
"Oh, yeah, we've had our, umm, discussions. But," Fang said mischeviously, "it's amazing how much better the little guys follow my orders than they do his. And Starscream appreciates things that protect his own aft, and that's my job: organizing anything six feet tall or shorter into a credible fighting force. If I'd had about a week more to work with the insecticons in Peru, I suspect we'd have won that fight. I had just arrived there the night before and we didn't have the pecking order sorted out yet, so their commander ignored my orders during the battle." He shook his head in aggravation. "I figured Optimus had an ambush planned and tried to get them to lob some missiles into those rocks, but they were just dumb."
"I didn't see you in Peru, but I take it you're the mech who put a hole in Bee's chest?" Wheelie wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Fang grinned around his namesake dagger-like teeth. His body form was modeled on that of an organic's, and the grin was very plausible. "Seemed like the right thing to do at the moment. I'm sure Ratchet patched him up later."
"Yeah, he did, but ..." Wheelie thought of Bumblebee's angry words, 'Wheelie, get the fuck lost!' and hesitated. He liked Optimus, but the other 'bots were never going to accept him: that much had become clear to him. They were a tight knit little clique, and he was, and he figured always would be, an outsider. "Fang, do you think ... do you think I could work for you again?"
Fangface bumped him again, hard metal nose clicking against the Autobot emblem on Wheelie's chest. Wheelie belatedly released that had been what Fang had been nudging all along. "It's too dangerous, kiddo."
"Fuck the danger. Fighting Decepticons isn't?"
"Megatron smashed two of my mechs flat yesterday because they made a noise when he was concentrating on a scout report. He killed them, and they'd done absolutely nothing wrong except walk too loudly when running an errand for Starscream. I saw it happen and could do absolutely nothing to stop it." Fang lifted his head out of Wheelie's reach, and shook it back and forth, human style, to indicate a negative. "I ... would lose sight of my goals, if anything happened to you, kid. You're better off our enemy than our friend at the moment."
"I'd never be your enemy," Wheelie said, with feeling. He just could not bring himself to imagine that. Fang had been more than a boss -- Wheelie's earliest memories were of that grin. Mechs didn't have parents, precisely, but it was pretty typical for the young of his race to be taken in by adult mentors. Wheelie figured Fang was somewhere between the human equivalent of a father and a big brother to him, with maybe a bit of 'best friend' thrown in. If not for Fang noticing I was just a little bit smarter than my siblings, I never would have been anything but a worker drone -- another nameless, faceless slave toiling for the Decepticons."I would hope not," Fang said, chuckling. "But you need to go back to the 'bots, kiddo. Optimus will take good care of you, I can guarantee that."
"Optimus maybe, but I don't know about the rest of them. Bumblebee left me out here. I don't even know how to get back to the base!"
Fang sighed. "So that's what you were doing in this alley, cussing Bee out. I'd wondered. The girl's father died, and he's probably so worried about her he forgot all about you. Don't be too hard on Bumblebee, kid -- Bee has issues of his own, just like the rest of us. Thousands of years of war will do that to a mech. I expect he's lost so many people he loved that he's a bit over-the-top attached to the friends he has now."
"He left me all alone out here, the jerk. He could have at least radio'd for a ride for me. It's not like I can drive all the way back to the base by myself!"
"Yeah, I see your point." Fang nudged him playfully. "Is Mikaela's Mustang home?"
"Huh?" Wheelie said, a bit confused.
"Barricade's a moron, but that's beside the point. He tangled with that Mustang and lost pretty bad, so I'm assuming that's where my little present for Optimus ended up. Whatever hit him had the mass of a small locomotive. And that was why I was hanging around -- I wanted to make sure Grimlock woke up okay. I've had him stashed for millenia, you know, waiting for a good opportunity to send him home. Optimus's supply chain is pretty fragged, and I wasn't sure they had all the parts they needed to get him up and running again."
"The Mustang's a mech?" That was news to Wheelie.
"For a spy," Fang teased, with a laugh in his voice that completely took the sting out of the words, "you're sure out of the loop. But do me a favor and don't tell Starscream about Grimlock -- he was a present for Optimus, and a surprise for Megatron, if you get my drift."
Wheelie blinked, processed that, then burst out laughing. "You're playing both sides of the fence, aren't you, Fang?"
"No, not really. Just making strategic chess moves, shall we say. Like I said, I don't dislike Optimus." Fang's blandly nonchalant tone told Wheelie that Fang was, indeed, plotting something major, and there was mischief lurking in his eyes, too. Wheelie stared at Fang wondering what, precisely, Fang was up to.
"And in the meantime, to get you home, I believe I'll make a phone call -- do you have Optimus's cell phone number, by any chance?"
"Fuck it, no." That fact was still grating on him. He hadn't been given cell phone numbers for any of the 'bots.
Apparently sensing his anger, Fang said sensibly, "Okay, big fat stinking rule? Get contact information for all your commanding officers, kiddo. Bet that was just an oversight that they didn't give you the numbers. You're taking it personally, aren't you? Did you ask?"
Fang's guess was accurate, and Wheelie ground out, "No, okay? I didn't ask. I didn't think I'd get stuck ..."
"You didn't think, that's right. You could just as easily have gotten stranded because your ride got slagged. Pretty hard to scream for help when they don't trust you with a com-chip yet, and you don't know the numbers to call, right?" Fang's grin was broader. Smugly, he said. "Fortunately, I have everyone's phone number."
"How ...?" Wildly, he wondered who the other spy was among Optimus's mechs. "Hey, you could have said that to begin with!"
"Just checking to see if you're using your processors, kiddo. And the answer to that question was 'no' ..." Fang glanced skyward. "We have an eye in the sky who's pretty good at caller ID. You'd be amaze at the info we have. Hold a sec, and I'll let them know where you're at ..."
"Oh, shit, I would love to hear Optimus's reaction ..." Wheelie laughed out loud.
* * * * *
"Hello?" The call had a phone number attached that Optimus did not recognize. He answered warily, concerned that someone had leaked his private cell phone number. "This is Optimus Prime."
"Hiya, Mr. Prime, I'm your biggest fan. Could I have an interview? Please? Please? Please?"
"Hello, Fangface," Optimus said, without much amusement. The young Decepticon's rough, warm voice was as distinctive as his highly advanced form.
"Damn, you're good. Never could fool you for long." Fang sounded bouncily enthusiastic.
Optimus, who was in a truly somber mood, found he was only irritated by the Decepticon's laughter. He let his annoyance creep into his voice when he answered, "I would not say that, Fang. You've effectively deceived me at least once that I am aware of."
"Ouch! And how do you know that was deception? Maybe your perceptions of me were accurate and I was a holier-than-thou goody-two-shoes all along."
"I doubt it." What game was Fangface playing at, Optimus wondered?
"Now, now, and here I am being so very friendly."
"What do you want, Fangface? My patience with you is very short."
"Tcha! What do I want? Nothing. What do you want? I'll give you a hint: It's eighteen inches tall and called me a 'son of a sparkless drone' and told me to go slag myself."
"Wheelie." Optimus's spark seemed to freeze in his chest with fear for the little mech. "I thought he was with Bee ..." He trailed off, not wanting to give any information over the phone about Mikaela's father's death. The Decepticons were just evil enough to violate a funeral simply to be, well, evil. "If you hurt him, I swear this: you will face my wrath."
"What, you're not already pissed enough at me to take my head clean off if you ever got a decent chance at it?" Fangface laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "And don't worry. I haven't hurt the runt. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it."
"What's your price?" Optimus figured Fangface wanted something, if he wasn't killing Wheelie outright.
A chuckle, from the other end of the line. "I will tell you my price when I deliver him. You're a 'bot of honor, Optimus. I figure you'll keep your end of the deal."
"I'm not promising anything," Optimus said, concerned. "Where is he?"
"First off, I want you to come alone ... I do not trust your men to hold their fire ..."
* * * * *
"You cannot be serious, Optimus," Magnus was furious -- Optimus had seen him mad before, but never quite like this. Magnus's anger was backed by real concern for Optimus's safety and, Optimus thought, an even greater concern for the fate of their entire race. Bad enough his brother was potentially walking into a trap. Worse that his brother was the very last Prime.
"Fangface does not intend to hurt me," Optimus said, mildly, regarding his brother with some surprise. Magnus had grown, over the last few millenia. A few hundred battles, and being forced to make critical decisions during them (and, probably, the right decision, if he knew his brother) had done Magnus some real good. There was decisiveness in Magnus's eyes, and a real tone of command.
Unfortunately, Magnus was also directing that confidence and assertiveness in Optimus's direction. It was irritating, and it was unnecessary. Whatever game Fang was playing, Optimus was confident that it wasn't a game of 'kill the leader of the Autobots' -- if for no other reason than Fang had sent them Grimlock, and he had his suspicions about why Fang would do that.
"And while I'm gone, Magnus, you are in charge," Optimus said, keeping his tone even.
That served handily to derail both Magnus's objections, and that of the rest of the team. Half his 'bots looked at Ironhide, and the other half stared at Magnus in slow surmise, and he figured there would be quite the ... discussions ... around the base, over the next few days. Until now the chain of command had been clearly Optimus, then Ironhide. Magnus and Ironhide had about an equal rank, though. Ironhide and Magnus shared a look between them, Magnus's body language saying that he was uncomfortable with usurping Ironhide's position. Ironhide was completely unreadable, but Optimus knew Ironhide well enough to suspect he wouldn't mind all that much.
He knew everyone on the team had assumed that Ironhide would get the Matrix if anything happened to him, though, privately, he had contemplated Bee more than once, if it came down to a situation where he had to chose. It was a tossup between problems: Ironhide's lack of vision, or Bee's lack of fighting abilities. The Matrix would add power, but only so much, and he knew Bee, even augmented by that old artifact's abilities, could not take down Megatron and he would die trying. But brains and pluck could go a long way towards countering lack of strength, which was why Bee was in his inner circle to begin with ...
However, all that became moot with Magnus here. Magnus had the vision, he had the fighting ability, and he would rise to the leadership challenges.
For now, however, he was just putting Magnus in charge for a few hours. He was not even contemplating dying tonight.
"Me?" Magnus stared at Optimus in shock. "But ..."
Ironhide grunted, "You, Magnus. He's right. You've earned it."
"... Me?" Magnus repeated. "But I'm ..."
"... just a soldier," half the team chorused with him, including Hot Rod, who was standing close enough to Magnus that Magnus managed to cuff him upside the head before Hot Rod could dance away, laughing. The clank of metal on metal echoed through the hanger.
There, Optimus thought, with satisfaction, watching his 'bots. That had worked. He'd just effectively redirected them from one concern to another.
"Magnus, you got us reinforcements and supplies when nobody else could," Ironhide said, mildly, showing Optimus's assessment was accurate in that Ironhide would willingly accept Magnus as his superior. In a serious tone of voice, but with a lot less concern than Magnus had, he said, "Optimus, be careful. And remember that Bee and Arcee will be closer to you than the rest of us, if you do need assistance."
Arcee was taking Sam to Mikaela and Bee -- Optimus would have done it himself, but he'd been in a meeting and they had not told him of her father's death until after he'd gotten out, and Sam had grabbed the closest available 'bot for and nevermind his wariness of riding with Arcee! Optimus thought they would pay their respects to her tomorrow, but that it would be incredibly disruptive if the entire team showed up now.
"Thank you, Ironhide." Optimus transformed and headed for the door.
* * * * *
Fangface had given Optimus coordinates at an old junkyard. Optimus transformed before the gates and walked in, all but the last safety on his cannons disengaged and the weapons powered up and ready to shoot. He did not expect an ambush, but he also wasn't a fool. Fang had betrayed them once.
"You," Fang's voice said, "haven't changed a bit."
Optimus whirled around, just in time to see Fang transform and stand up from a pool of shadows. His bipedal mode was tall and slender, with elegant long limbs and the same feline head. Silver metal gleamed in the sunlight. His fangs were at least three feet long and hung down to the middle of his chest. Fang had Wheelie at his feet -- to Optimus's surprise, Fang picked Wheelie up as a human might a toddler, and held him in the crook of one arm. Wheelie didn't seem to mind, either.
"What do you want, Fangface?" Optimus demanded.
Fang calmly walked closer. "Nothing, for the moment, save that you keep this little one safe. It would destroy me if he were killed."
Optimus blinked, processed that request, and realized this might not be what it seemed. He'd assumed Wheelie would be used as a bargaining chip, with a very steep price attached. Well, that explains why Wheelie has the capacity for love -- he has been loved. That makes all the difference in the world for a youngling.
"Wheelie was mine -- my friend, my assistant, my protege, for about twelve years, since the week he was made. I wish it had been a lot longer." Wheelie's body language told the truth of those words. Optimus had never seen Wheelie that completely relaxed around anyone -- Wheelie generally hid real fear with a biting attitude and a nasty temper. Now, though, he had his head resting against the bigger 'bot's arm, and in that moment looked very, very young. Optimus felt a responding surge of protectiveness for the little one, but he couldn't figure out if he should be protecting Wheelie from Fang, or from the rest of the world. Just because Wheelie liked him didn't mean Fang had Wheelie's best interests in mind ...
"It's a war, Fangface. I can't promise anything." Optimus sighed, suddenly feeling very tired.
"He is safer with you than he is with me. Megatron thinks nothing of killing small mechs like Wheelie and has, many times. I've seen him use them simply for target practice when he was sighting in a new weapon. I could not bear to see that happen to my friend here."
"You could join with us again," Optimus said, a bit impulsively, but Fangface was not evil.
Fang sighed, echoing Optimus's earlier sound. "No, Optimus. My plans do not include joining with you. I am not one of your groupies."
"I do not particularly wish to face you in the field of battle," Optimus said, with real honesty compelling the words. Groupies? Hardly.
"Afraid, Optimus?" Fang teased, eyes merry. "I might win."
"Or I might kill you, and regret it, after." Optimus held a hand out, for Wheelie. "We could be allies, Fang, not enemies. There is no need to fight."
Fang's eyes widened in mock surprise. "What, the great Optimus Prime would consider a peace treaty with the Decepticons? I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you." He transferred Wheelie to Optimus's hands, and Optimus lifted the small mech to his shoulder. Wheelie was silent, but seemed calm, head swiveling back and forth as he listened to the discussion.
Optimus considered Fang's words for a moment, then said, "I wasn't talking about a treaty."
"Maybe I was."
"You don't have that sort of power, to make those sorts of deals, and Megatron would never consider it. Megatron will fight me until one of us is dead or the universe itself dies a slow death of entropy." Optimus frowned at Fang. "You can't take Megatron, if that's what you're thinking of doing. You don't physically have the power, and he will see to it that you never receive those upgrades. I will note that he is a challenge for me to fight, and I have fairly easily defeated you twice."
"Don't remind me!" Fang held a hand up, chuckling. Optimus had forgotten how much this particular Deception laughed -- constantly, at everything, with great glee. Fang had never seen a situation he couldn't find humor in. And that laughter was real, and genuine, and had been the reason why most of his team had liked Fangface before he had betrayed them. "Yes, Optimus, you kick aft. And who said I was going to fight Megatron? Ask yourself this: why did I send you that tiny little gift?"
"I'd rather ask you that question," Optimus shot back at him. "Some might claim you're acting as a double agent."
"Oh, I am not helping both sides, precisely, and I only have one goal in mind," Fang's grin bared a few more teeth. "And you're going to help me achieve it."
"I said I would make no guarantees of any sort of pact," Optimus replied warily. So Fangface did want something ...
Fang snorted, a sharp sound of air hissing through his keen olfactory sensors. "That wasn't an offer of a pact, Optimus. That was me gazing into my crystal ball and predicting the future. And, with that note -- see ya!"
The cat transformed in mid leap, hit the ground running, and disappeared into the night. Optimus watched him go, arms folded, and quite a bit of unease, "That Predacon is far too intelligent for his own good -- our anyone else's."
Wheelie spoke up, then, very quietly, "I figured Fangface was dead. Turns out he's Starscream's second."
Optimus's response was equally subdued, "He could have been one of my officers, if he'd stayed with us."
"He says we're going to lose." Wheelie hunched his shoulders and folded his arms. "But he says I'll be safer with you. I don't understand. You'll fight to the death against Megatron. Shit, you already have, once! How will that make me any safer?"
"I do not intend to lose, Wheelie." Optimus shook his head, denying Fangface's assessment. "I have absolutely no intention of that."