Fear rippled through Strongarm when Sideswipe's call came through.

"I was attacked-" he followed that with his location and a quietly spoken, "I think he's gone."

But there was something wrong with him. She could hear the pain and the fear, but there was something deeper than that. Something that felt bitter and wronged, and she knew... she knew, even as she desperately tried to deny it to herself, to tell herself she was just reading into things too much.

Grimlock went with her, concealed beneath a tarp as usual. But he didn't seem to have heard what she did, he just looked angry, and frustrated at having nothing to hit. She reminded herself that, strong as he looked, Grim was still fragile, perhaps even more than Sideswipe, who couldn't even have defended himself against any assault. She should never have let him go.

"She's in my head, Strongarm. She's taking over." that's what Bumblebee had said.

They'd found him. Of course they'd found him. And somehow, someway they were forcing him to do this. It had to have been him that attacked Sideswipe. That was the only explanation. This was her fault. She should have made sure Bee couldn't be found, should have hidden him, should have kept Sideswipe with the group. None of this should have happened, everything had already gone wrong and it was only getting worse the longer this went on and she had no solution, there was no way out...

They found Sideswipe upside down in a ditch.

"Strongarm?" the question, tinged with fear, cut her to the core.

But he was alive. God, he was alive and that was more of a second chance than she deserved. He was still alive, when by all rights he should have been killed. He couldn't fight back if he was attacked, couldn't even run away as well as usual. But Sideswipe was alive, and right now that was everything.

"Help me get him out, Grim," she said, transforming quickly, then hesitating, "Are you hurt, Sideswipe?"

"Doesn't matter, just get me turned over," Sideswipe's muffled voice was strained, but mostly frightened. There could be nothing more terrifying than being flipped over and not being able to transform, being left in such an utterly defenseless state was a kind of cruelty in itself.

Bumblebee didn't have that kind of cruelty in him. But Lachesis did.

"Just take it easy, we'll get you out," Strongarm said, "But you've got to tell us if you're damaged. We could make the damage worse when we move you if we aren't careful."

"My left side," Sideswipe seemed panicky now, like he was scared telling her would make her decide to leave him there rather than risk injuring him further, "He tore all down my left side. But I don't care, I don't care if it hurts, I don't care if it makes me bleed, just get me out, please!"

"Okay, it's alright, just calm down. Calm down."

"You calm down!" Sideswipe yelped, "I'm the one that's trapped!"

Strongarm realized her voice had been shaking, that she was letting her own fears surface. She shook her head. Sideswipe was right, if anyone had right to panic, it was him, not her.

"Alright, you're right. Just take it easy, okay?" she forced her tone to remain soft and level, "Just-"

"Just get me out!" Sideswipe interrupted frantically, "It's dark in here!"

She knew he wasn't talking about the light levels or even the ditch, but his own crippling terror. She wasn't sure he even knew what he was saying. She realized he might have been taunted, tormented once he was stuck like this, and that he'd had no way of knowing when it was over, when he'd been left alone. And then... then he'd been all alone, alone with fear she couldn't even try imagining.

This wasn't like being tied up or locked in a cell, this was... this was cruel and unusual. Even Decepticons didn't treat their prisoners like this... or maybe they did and it was just stricken from the record. Strongarm had come to realize a lot of things hadn't been recorded.

"I'm climbing down for a closer look," Strongarm told Grimlock, "the rain's made the sides of the ditch muddy, and I want to see how badly he's wedged in before we start trying to pull him free."

Grim nodded wordlessly. He hadn't missed the fear in Sideswipe's voice, but he didn't have a vehicle mode. He couldn't imagine having all four wheels in the air because he didn't have wheels. But he didn't appear to think Sideswipe was being ridiculous. Grim was good at that. Because his ability to understand things was so limited, he knew how to accept without understanding.

Sideswipe was completely petrified, that's all Grim needed to know. His fierce eyes had taken on an unusual softness and he shifted his weight, impatient to pull Sideswipe out of that fear.

Strongarm wished she could be so understanding.

Something was wrong.

Not only hadn't the Scout balked at attacking the lone Autobot, it had actually been his idea. Bothrop had expected to have to goad the Scout on, pulling up some twisted or bent memory to spur him into action. But the Scout had actually required restraint, attacking with such vigor he almost spun himself off the road, Bothrop had fought to rein him in to slow him down, to make sure he thought his actions through. Bothrop didn't want the Scout to tear himself apart on the first attack.

The Scout had fought him, balked at the control, his mind eager to spill energon. In his mind's eye, he pictured ripping, tearing, bleeding, death. The images came hard and fast and left Bothrop breathless. Even brainwashed, he shouldn't have been this completely insanely violent in mind.

I have created a Rogue.

Bothrop remembered Rogues from the war, more often Decepticons than Autobots, but either way they were no longer a part of either side. Something happened and they snapped, and then all they seemed to want or care about was killing and violence and they didn't care who they wrought it on or how much damage they took in the process or even if it killed them. Frenetic, wild, almost primitive thoughts and drives were governing the Scout now, the first clue had been the basic speech he reverted to, a clue Bothrop hadn't recognized, or maybe ignored.

The Scout had been so aggressive in his attack, so eager for blood, the thought of transforming never even entered his fractured mind. Bothrop knew he remembered how, but the Scout just flat didn't care. Given the damage he inflicted in a matter of seconds, transformation did suddenly seem trivial. Bothrop had never considered fighting in vehicle mode, had thought vehicle mode incapable of having decent weaponry. But it was just another kind of combat to the Scout. Just another way to kill.

Then something happened. An explosion of images jarred him, broke the killing frenzy of the Scout. Suddenly, he lost interest in the helpless Autobot he'd caught. The Scout's mind had bucked against its own desires, and thrown Bothrop completely out of control for a moment, spinning him into darkness.

The explosion of images had each contained one defining element: Pit Viper.
Memories Bothrop had not touched, yet which now surfaced with such force he wondered if perhaps he should have. But they were not pacifying the Scout, his spark was in no danger of regaining its former bright softness, nor turning to sympathy or compassion or any of the gentleness that marked a normal Autobot spark. It only flared darker, more intense in its pulsing, as though the Scout's very being railed against being caged in this corporeal form, as though it wanted to break free and burn down the whole universe. This was a monster Bothrop had not reckoned on unleashing, nor even suspected capable of existing beneath the stable, cool surface of the Scout's mind when he'd first touched it.

When he regained a semblance of control, Bothrop tentatively touched the Scout's mind, only to find it was scalding hot, seething with a newly directed hatred. Bothrop wasn't sure what had happened, but it was obvious the Scout had not broken free of the alterations Bothrop had made. Not even close.

The Scout was sinking into a deeper blackness than even Bothrop had thought possible. He was doing it on purpose, seeking an ever more savage self. And he was going to take Bothrop down with him.

"What are you doing, Scout?"

The response was an angry, but ill-directed, mental slash. The Scout missed Bothrop entirely, but the force behind the attack was not inconsiderable. Where had he gotten that? He had exhibited no talent for such things before, the mental struggle had been almost entirely one sided. The Scout had defended himself admirably, blocking Bothrop from the inner reaches of his mind as long as he could, but had never actually achieved anything like the attack that had just now missed.

{Get out of my head, Serpent! And stop calling me 'Scout'!} the thought was snarled aloud, as if the Scout no longer realized his every coherent thought could be read by Bothrop.

"Where are you going? The Autobot is back there. No doubt calling for backup. Why leave?"

{How small you think, Serpent,} the Scout laughed without humor, {You do not kill the enemy by attacking their extremities. You go straight for the spark. One shot, one kill.}

"I do not understand."

{That,} the Scout snarled, {is because you are a fool. You have no idea what you are doing. You are a child toying with things which are beyond your comprehension. Your understanding is limited, your power clumsy. You are but an amateur, with little understanding of what it is you are trying to accomplish. Now be silent and get out of my way, or next time I will not miss.}

This was not what Bothrop had intended. Whatever he had wrought, it had torn free of his grasp and was now spiraling out of control. It had already tried to kill Lachesis, was threatening him, and was not listening to any of his suggestions. Yet it was doing what he wanted. It was going after the Autobots. Only he didn't understand how, or what it was planning.

He knew he should find out, but the idea of brushing against that burning hot mind with its will of iron was a daunting notion. Bothrop was surprised to recognize his own fear. He was not afraid to die, nor of how much destruction the Scout might bring down around him. What he feared was that he had lost control, and he didn't know why. The Scout had broken from his grasp, and was now free.

And there was no telling what he might do.

Sideswipe tried, but was unable to hold back the yelp of pain as Grimlock and Strongarm set him right side up on the pavement. It had taken a long time to work him free of the mud, because Strongarm was busy trying to be careful about his wound, especially when she realized he was actively bleeding.

She had halted their progress at one point and had Grimlock hold Sideswipe at an angle so she could patch the wound temporarily before they continued. Sideswipe had done his best not to complain, mostly because he feared if he started talking, he would begin to babble, which would probably turn into some embarrassing offshoot such as blubbering and that was a road he didn't want to take.

But the truth was, he was scared. And not just because he was helpless, upside down and in the dark, but because of who had attacked him. He had to tell Strongarm. He had to tell her, and hope she understood and believed him. And that scared him more than anything.

Bumblebee was her idol, her mentor. Sideswipe was some criminal they'd picked up along the way. Even if she did believe him, it would hurt her worse than his wounds now hurt him. Knowing what Bumblebee had done was bad enough, but she would also realize that there would come a time when she had to face him and defend herself... or someone she cared about.

She might have to hurt him... maybe worse.

Sideswipe felt sick at the thought, and he knew Strongarm would feel even worse.

He had already made the decision that, if and when the time came, he would do everything in his power to make sure he was the one to do it. Not because he didn't think Strongarm could pull the trigger, but because he wasn't sure what it would do to her when she inevitably did, even if it was to protect Earth.

"Scrud, you're leaking again," Strongarm muttered, kneeling down to look at Sideswipe's side.

Grimlock was casting wary glances up and down the road, but so far no cars had approached. The sky had turned black, save for the white cloud-to-ground lightning that cut it open, releasing the pouring rain and the rolls of deep thunder that seemed to wash over them and reverberate through their armor.

"Strongarm," Sideswipe felt her hands still at his side, and he sensed in her recognition of what he was going to say, "It... it wasn't a Serpent. Or a Decepticon."

"I know," she said flatly, and resumed working on trying to halt the energon leak.

"It was Bumblebee," her hands twitched and he felt a brief spark of electrical current along his side, the result of disturbing the wound beneath the plating.

"I know," she said, steadying herself, "There. That should hold until Fixit can get a look at you."

"It's alright," Sideswipe said, "I can get there myself."

"But-"

"You can't tow both of us," he twitched a side mirror at the ever conspicuous Grimlock, "You go ahead, I'll follow. I'll be okay. Just... don't get too far ahead, okay?"

"You better keep up," she knocked him gently on the least damaged part of his front fender, "I don't want to have to drag you out of the mud again."

"We're agreed on that," Sideswipe said, stifling a shudder.

Before they could get themselves organized, a call came over their comm units. It was from Russell.

"Guys, you've gotta get back here! It's Bee! He's-" a crash, a flush of static, then a hasty continuation of the report, "He's after Fixit, he's gone nuts, and I think he's going to-"

"Russell? Russ! You're breaking up. Say your last again!" Strongarm shouted over the noise of the rain, "Russell, answer me!"

The sudden silence was deafening.