Drake was not going to the party. He wasn't going anywhere near a bunch of aliens, and didn't plan to for a long, long time.

Except for Arcee. She had her uses for now, like driving him to places that he wanted to go. One of those places was run-down Synapsis, a place that he hadn't been too in quite some time. Old, ratty, dilapidated building were all it was made of, a perfect haven for Decepticon's, and even worse, the bugs.

"This is how you decide to spend your evening?" Arcee said, letting Drake off before transforming. She rolled towards Drake. "I have to say….this isn't a good idea. We shouldn't be here. Now that I think about it, we need to go."

"No," Drake said, hating how his voice sounded all whiny and weak. That was how Zora probably though of him right now, whiny, weak, not her type. Drake gulped. Best not to think of her right now. "Look, Arcee, I swear that it will just take a minute."

"I detect not Decepticon energy signals….but that doesn't mean that they're not here," she said. She saw Drake's pleading look and sighed. "Alright. But I mean it when I say that you've got one minute."

Drake nodded quickly, then took off across the road to the nearest building, an old bookshop that had gone out of business years ago. He pushed through the wooden double doors, skidding to a halt, looking around at the books stacked on the counter, at the old, dusty carpet that smelled like mold.

"Holy shit, man, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" A voice behind him said. Drake spun and found himself staring into the eyes of a boy, no older than him, wielding a baseball bat in one hand. He let it rest on his shoulder and tilted his head to the side. Another boy stood by the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

"I see two boys with no lives," Drake said, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. "God, Quinn, Sledge, I haven't seen you two since you tried to freaking mug me."

Sledge, the one with the baseball bat, spat onto the carpet and flung the bat to the side. He clearly remembered Drake, and didn't look as happy to see him as his partner did.

"Where's your girlfriend? Out playing Super Woman again?" Quinn snarled.

"Something like that," Drake replied smugly, shoving his hands into his pocket. He sauntered over to the couch, a torn piece of furniture that way barely holding together. He flopped down onto it like he would do at home, elbow resting on the arm.

"What brings you here?" Quinn asked.

"Coming to see what crap you guys are bringing in," Drake said. He had never really liked Quinn and Sledge, but they were the only people who liked discussing comics and conspiracy. Although, after what Drake had seen, conspiracy had become reality. But that didn't mean he didn't like discussing it anymore.

"Nothing much. Just a few magazines….well….we do have something," Sledge said, rummaging through some bookshelves. Quinn shot him an annoyed look before raising his eyebrows at Drake. Quinn had always been the smarter of the two. He had been the one who had planned the whole mugging. It had been so long ago….Drake didn't remember when they had gotten out of jail. He only remembered speaking to them afterwords. They hadn't apologized, but they had welcomed him. Just him. Not Zora. Never Zora.

"Sledge, you dumbass….you weren't supposed to….ugh," Quinn glanced at Drake and shrugged. "Okay. You got us. But….since you're really part of the club, I guess you can see."

"See what?"

"Right this way, sir Drake," Quinn mocked. "Sledge, be a good boy and watch the door."

"I always have to watch the door," Sledge whined. "Why can't I show it too him?"

"Because you're abnormally small brain will not be able to come up with the words to describe it," Quinn snapped. He shook his head and walked towards the back door that led to the basement. "We can't have anyone barging in on us. Just shut up and stand guard."

"Whatever." Sledge drawled, flopping down onto the couch.

Drake followed Quinn down the wooden, creaky stairs, brushing away dust and cobwebs. It smelled even worse down here, a combination of rotting food and rat poop. Drake blanched and felt the urge to hold his nose.

It was a good thing Ratchet wasn't here. He would have gone on and on about all the health dangers and hazards.

"I swear, man, if you tell anyone about this, I will mug you all over again, but actually make it hurt," Quinn threatened. He stood at the bottom of the steps and waited for Drake to follow. Reluctantly, Drake joined him, and they both stood facing the dark room. Quinn reached over and flicked a switch, and suddenly, light flooded the room.

In the center of the room was a large, disfigured shape, covered in a tarp.

"Are you ready to have your mind blown?" Quinn whispered, striding up to the object and gripping the edge of the tarp.

"Already have, Quinn, already have," Drake murmured, watching as Quinn made a big show out of ripping the tarp off the object.

To say that his mind was blown would be an understatement.

Maggie sat, alone, at the party, hand clutching her drink so tightly that she thought the glass cup might break.

It felt good to just escape. Get away from work and all the troubles of life. That, and drink.

How long had it been since she'd done this?

It seemed like millions and millions of years. And understatement, of course, but she was finding it hard to focus on anything else other than the drink in her hand.

Maybe it was the thing on her shoulder. She hadn't checked it in some time, hadn't intended to because it wasn't causing her any trouble.

Except now.

It throbbed, ached. Just that one spot.

And another spot under her arm. And another in a spot just below her ribs.

Whatever.

Ten minutes and she was already feeling herself become inebriated. Or if that was actually it. She hadn't drank that much, hadn't…

"Ouch!"

"Watch it," the redheaded girl snapped. Then, she shook her head and Maggie got a good glimpse of tired, brown eyes. The girl snatched up her own drink and went to sit down in a corner. Probably going to brood. But she didn't look like the kind of girl to go and slit her wrist in the bathtub or whatever…

Maggie rolled her eyes and probed at her shoulder. There was a lump there…

A lump that squirmed and writhed and….

Oh, oh God, oh my God….

Maggie was bounding towards the bathroom before she knew what was happening, pushing past people, ignoring the cries and slosh of spilt beer.

She opened the bathroom door, slammed it shut so the music was only a dull echo.

Her legs were wobbly and she found it hard to focus and stand up. It was like someone was sapping her strength….

She reached up and moved the strap to her dress so she could see the wound.

She looked.

Checked. Almost screamed, but shock took over and she just stared dumbly at the rows and rows of sharp teeth protruding from her flesh.

Her knee's buckled, but she caught herself and started into the mirror, brow beaded with sweat.

The thing was still there.

She bolted for the door. She had to get out of here, had to get help, had to see a doctor even through her mind screamed that this was beyond a doctors profession. She shoved her way through the crowd, passing the redheaded girl who just stared up at her with dark brown eyes. Slammed her way out the back door and into an alley, where she stumbled and collapsed in a heap, leaning against the wall for support.

Alone.

She sat there, eyes closed, unable to walk or think clearly.

Crunching! She heard crunching, like someone grinding up bones, coming from her midsection.

Numbness. Her ear was…was…gone! She couldn't feel her ear. Couldn't feel anything, could only hear the crunch, crunch, crunch as the bugs ate her from the inside out.

She lifted up her dress, tears brimming along the corner of her eyes, to stare at the wasp digging its way out of her stomach.

No, this wasn't a dream.

Blink.

Stare.

Scream.

Of course, it was in the middle of the party, and disaster struck.

Zora was sitting at a table in the corner, holding a drink in one hand, remembering how she and Drake had been in this exact same position, doing the exact same thing, almost a month ago. She looked at the empty seat in front of her. She had been saving it for a specific person, a specific Autobot, actually. But said Autobot was busy talking to Ratchet's holoform.

Hm. The good Medic had apparently decided to get away from the base. He had probably left Jolt in charge, since he was the only other bot' training to be a medic.

Ironhide was there, with Chromia. So were Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, both looking like they would rather be anywhere else at the moment. The way they slouched in the corner, not talking to anyone said it all. Zora wasn't about to approach them to talk, no, she wasn't that desperate for someone to speak with.

She swirled her drink and set it down on the table. Everyone else was either dancing or chatting. Zora wasn't doing either. She didn't want to….not without Drake. He was her party partner. Always. She wondered where he had run off to, she hadn't seen him around. She knew she was supposed to be angry at him….knew she should hate him for what he had said to Optimus….but strangely, she missed him. Missed him a lot.

He would just have to get used to the idea of her and Optimus….together. Not that they were together now, but if Prime kept it up, they might very well be soon. And knowing Drake, he would make an even bigger deal out of it, blurt out some rood, snide remark, and disappear. He would return, of course, if he missed Zora just as much as Zora missed him. It was only a matter of time.

Then, a hand on her shoulder. More of a slap than a gentle pat. She looked up and saw a grim-faced Sam standing behind her, grinning from ear to ear like some drunk fool.

"Glad to see that you're enjoying yourself."

"Whatever," Zora shook her head and rolled her eyes, more focused on Prime than anything else. So strong, he looked, so regal and radiating with power.

Sam huffed, dismayed at Zora's reaction and words, and stumbled away, leaving Zora alone to sit there and mope.

A scream.

The music played on and the partying did not cease. Zora was sure she was the only one who had heard it. A figment of her imagination, maybe? Some teenager playing some stupid trick?

Maybe…

She glanced at Ratchet, whose blonde haired holoform was attracting a few certain human female's, glanced at Zora.

He had heard it, too.

After a few grunts, insults and apologies, Ratchet untangled himself and headed over to Zora.

"What was that?"

"It came from outside," Zora shrugged. "Probably just a bunch of drunk idiots playing some trick."

"It didn't sound like a trick," Ratchet's ice blue eyes bore holes right through Zora, and she rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Fine. I'll go check it out," Zora pushed past Ratchet back through the crowd, past Optimus, who looked at her worriedly, and then began to follow.

They pushed out the back door, shutting it behind them so all the noise and confusion was drowned out, a dull thud vibrating through the walls.

Darkness. The alley was dark, trash strewn here and there, something smelling oddly like…like…

A human figure moaned and stirred in the shadows.

"Zora?" Optimus said.

Zora nodded and raised her hands, a dull green light emitting from her palm, something she had been practicing but never intending to use. It cast an eerie glow on everything, making it look like the shadows would jump out at her at any given moment.

But it wasn't the light or the shadows or any of that that horrified Zora, no, it was the human being writhing and squirming before her.

Almost half of the woman's body was gone. A huge wasp or ant or whatever was pushing its way out, legs kicking through flesh and eager to get out.

Optimus wasn't moving, didn't move even when the door opened and Ratchet and Mikaela spilled into the alley.

Mikaela looked. Didn't scream or anything like that, just spun around and walked back inside, hands and legs trembling. Didn't want to see any more than she had already seen.

Ratchet just stared.

"I…I tried to kill it…I…I'm sorry," the woman sputtered.

"I know, Maggie, it's not your fault."

Zora glanced at Optimus. He knew her? How…

"Am I gonna die? I didn't do anything wrong…I tried to be a good person…"

"No, you were a great person, Maggie, a great person," Ratchet said, far more soothingly that Zora had ever thought he was capable of.

He wasp was kicking its way out and Maggie was still sitting there, stone faced, unmoving even when the bug twisted its head, giving Zora a pretty good view of its red eyes that oozed pus, and took a massive bite out of Maggie's head, leaving one eye blinking and half a mouth twisted down into a grimace.

Zora was going to be sick…going to vomit…

The bug took another bite of head, one bite that effectively killed Maggie because then there was no more head left, and then it was out, wings flaring, getting ready to pounce.

Getting ready to kill again.

"Zora!"

She raised her hands and fired blindly, knocking Ratchet to the side, the green light slicing the abomination in half, burning even past that and hitting Maggie's headless corpse and burning through her dress, her beautiful red dress that was splattered with blood, burning away and away until there was nothing left but ashes and a wriggling bug body that was sliced in two.

Zora fired at the bug and it, too, was reduced to ash.

She stumbled away from the scene, down the alley even thought Optimus and Ratchet were both shouting at her to stop, as if there was something she could do. Stumbled, tripped and fell, not caring if her own dress got dirty.

She puked up everything inside her, right then and there.

"Zora!"

"Get away from me!" It was a pitiful wail of despair.

Strong arms hoisted her up and pressed her against a warm torso. Prime held her in his arms while she sobbed, wracking spasm's that had her coughing and gasping for air.

She wanted to fall to her knee's and demand some type of explanation from God. Why? Why was this happening?

Optimus had his arm around her and she held onto him like a lifeline. It was either that or collapse.

"Just…just get me away from here," she whispered.

He walked her, legs shaking, away from the scene, and the whole time Zora's fist began to clench and clench until her fingernails cut through her skin.

The pain was stunning.

She welcomed it.