So excited. The climax approaches. ^_^

CuteKitten- That's the great thing about coincidences, my dear; everybody wants to take credit for them! XD Sunstorm will most definitely be taking credit for bringing Starscream back, much to Acidstorm's annoyance. =P As for Megatron... no, he isn't himself anymore. He hasn't been himself for a long time... *shivers*

KyuubiSango- Psi's master is rather larger than life. =P If a creature like the Fallen has something to fear, than us mere mortals should be scared out of our wits. O,O And as for Elita One- we shall be seeing more of her in the future~ =)

Dramastar-Mel- I'm really glad that you enjoy my take on the Decepticons as being more than just bad guys. =D The whole WE verse is all about everyone's individual stories; when you see the world through "enemy" eyes, you suddenly find that you have more in common with them than you thought. As for Elita One- that femme with a little bit of hope is a very potent thing. ^_^

Queen of the Red Skittles- Glad you picked up on "the end is nigh" quote; it was intentional foreshadowing to the end of this fic. =D Sorry about the confusion surrounding Shockwave's mission; one of his proposed methods for creating new sparks is attempting to divide an existing one, but he's only succeeded in creating failures, such as the poorly divided kremzeeks and energy leeches. . That section of the chapter has been rewritten and is hopefully more coherent. ^^;

Chloo- It's crazy how close you are to the truth, yet at the same time you are so very far away! XD I keep reading your review over and over, loving every minute of your theories and guesses. Like I said, so close and yet so far! I wish I could tell you what's in store for the future, but I don't want to ruin the surprise. =P And you know what? You caught the Easter egg I hid in the chapter, too! =D You're bang on with the bartender, which means this chapter right now is dedicated to you for your sharp eyes, brilliant mind, and dedicated investment to the storyline! *cheers*

Flameshield- Yeah, we haven't heard from the Seekers, so I figured a little update was in order =P Flamewar's pain upon separation isn't necessarily the condition Optimus/Elita & Ironhide/Chromia have suffered. Her sparkbond to Barricade is much like getting fresh stitches, and being separated from each other so soon after bonding is very similar to having that fresh wound ripped open again. Bots with older bonds suffering chronic separation is like... severe arthritis that gets into your bones and soul, making it difficult to even move without pain. Neither are pleasant feelings at all. .

Bluebird Soaring- Writing for the Seekers was a lot of fun; there's been so much death and angst throughout this story that a little levity and hope was a relief. I'm glad you enjoyed their portrayal. =) Happy dance for Elita One all you want, my friend. The end is truly nigh, and with it may come her salvation... or her damnation.

Lecidre- Awww, it's so wonderful to hear that you enjoyed the Seekers of the last chapter! 8D You're right about Starscream being out of commission for nearly 50 chapters- it was about time that he finally woke up! XD If the scenes with super-zombie!Megatron have been freaking you out so far, you're in for trip... He's not going anywhere anytime soon, nor are any of the monsters he has on his side. ^^; I'm glad you think I have talent for writing horror, but I hope I don't scare you away! There's so much more of the story to be told! =D

Balrog Rioke- Without Megatron to wear around like a suit, he'd be naked! XD Hopefully the 'Bots and 'Cons can get it together long enough to figure out that teaming up is their only hope! O,O As for Starscream's piece in this puzzle... you'll find out soon enough what his investment in the game is. ^_^

Litahatchee- OMG! Look at that review! You superwoman! I cried when I saw it, it was that beautiful! *fawns over it* Thank god it's not just me who enjoys my dark humour; it's practically a staple for this series! XD This story would be in a rather sticky spot if people didn't like laughing at sarcasm and rather uncomfortable things... ^^; Which means, of course, that I'm doubly glad for friends like you who can put up with the humour in and out of the story: you're a double whammy of awesomeness =P And I want to thank you so much for pointing out those spelling mistakes- I fixed them up right away. This is a story full of mortal errors, so why not spelling errors as well? XD

FunkyFish1991- I'll tell you a secret, my dearest Fishy friend... You're the best! XD To be perfectly honest, when you started making comparisons between my writing and his, you gave me goosebumps. I haven't had the chance to read Paradise Lost yet, so I don't know Milton's writing style, but seeing such close comparisons gave me chills. I may not have read it, but Paradise Lost has served as a great inspiration for my writing, especially Lucifer's character. And after all that incredible flattery concerning me and Milton, you ruined it with your new introduction, albeit I laughed. And then you ruined it further with the poke-Shockwave-in-the-eye thing, although I won't deny how epic your rendition of the scene is. XD I can't tell you how much I get a kick out of you paraphrasing like that! XD Oh, and before I forget, you found the Easter Egg! *cheers* I was wondering if you understood what Mac's was referring to; slipping that in there was wayyyy too much fun! XD

This chapter is dedicated to FunkyFish1991 and Chloo, because they found the Easter egg in the last chapter! XD

Usual shout outs of inspiration to my peeps- FunkyFish1991, Litahatchee, Lecidre, and Violetlight.

Bumblebee's time frame- According to the Transformers '07 prequel comic, BB's been on Earth since 2003 doing reconnaissance. The current time frame of As We Come Together is 2008.

As We Come Together
In Which the Autobots Join the
Darksyde

"What's taking so long?" Sideswipe snarled, far from being his jovial self. "Hurry up! He can't take much more!"

"Data compression takes time," Soundwave countered darkly. His fingers flew like a blur across the keypad of the machine hooked up to a mangled wreck of a processor that appeared to have been ripped from someone's head.

"We don't have time!" snapped the Autobot. He spasmed as a fresh wave hit him; not of agony from the wound left by his severed arm, but an even more personal form of pain. He cast his optics to the writhing frame curled in his lap, convulsing in silent fits as he clutched at his chest. Sunstreaker could only dare crack his optics open for a brief moment, meeting Sideswipe's gaze with a look that appeared to be an attempt at reassurance, but fell away as he curled over on himself again. He was in an agony that went beyond physical torture, being attacked from the inside out.

"He can't take much more! And neither can I!" Sideswipe howled.

"There's a lot of damage to her processor," Soundwave intoned darkly as he rapidly reviewed the numerical sequences shooting by on the screen. "The rust deteriorated portions of her processor before Sunstreaker ripped it out; there's a chance that it's gotten to her core programming-"

"Don't care!" Sunstreaker suddenly howled.

"You have to hold on for a little longer; as soon as her processor is stabilized, I can make the transfer," Soundwave urged. Though his movements were as sure as always, his faceplate betrayed the grim torture that he was suffering under. His spark was in agony of a different kind.

Sunstreaker nodded, something like a sob escaping him as he panted. "Just hurry."

"I'm doing all that I can."

Sideswipe lurched down with an effort, wrapping his energon-spattered arm over his brother. "Just hold on a little longer," he begged, squeezing his twin with his one arm. Everything else was turning to a blur the longer he suffered the dregs of his brother's condition. He burned from the inside out; Sunstreaker was screaming loud and clear in his head. His spark felt seared to the core, so white hot with an outrage that went beyond conscious comprehension. His vocal processor felt clumsy as he tried to speak again- "You can do it, Sunny. Just a little longer."

Sunstreaker couldn't summon anymore words for a reply- the noise that did escape him was a long, low groan that ended on a retch. The hydraulics in his jaw locked tight, mouthplates grinding together so viciously that he wore the outer polish off. He was coming apart at the seams, literally and figuratively. Being thrown into a wall with several tons of Decepticon carcass collapsing on him had done nothing for his mending armour. Welds that were only a few Earth-days old cracked open. Donated plating that had never fit well in the first place was now hanging on by only a miracle. Everything in his chest had turned too tight; every pulse of his spark burned hotter against the insides of his sparkcase as it revolted against the intruder. He could hear the pulsing of energon his audios, feel the pounding beat in his head like the smashing of a drum. Warning signs blared in his vision as energy and stress levels shot beyond their maximum capacity.

No frame was designed to carry two sparks at once. Especially when one spark was hellbent on causing as much havoc as it possibly could.

Every time she collided with his spark or banged into the sides of his sparkcase, she connected to the energy interface that connected his spark to his frame. He could hear her voice in his head. It was mostly hissing, sometimes screaming. The words were mostly gibberish, either because the connection between spark and frame was not complete, or because he himself was too far gone to understand much of anything at that moment. The few words he had caught were mostly cursing and Megatron. What he felt from her was swells of panic and rage; she couldn't understand where she was, what had happened to her frame, why she couldn't move. As confused as she was, her spark was attacking anything within range, which left Sunstreaker's spark open for the brunt of it. For once in his life, he didn't dare defend himself.

The cargo bay lurched to the side as the Darksyde hit turbulence. Trojan and Worm automatically reached for the equipment that slid away, dragging it back for Soundwave.

"We got humans on our afts," Rumble announced over the comms as he and the other symbiotes struggled to fly the ship. "F-22's, and they sure ain't the smart kind."

"They've asked us to land or they fire," intoned Ravage. "They've already given us a warning shot. Our shields will hold, but they're not likely to let up."

"More are coming. It's all over their communications; all military bases are reacting," Laserbeak warned. "We're only over the Wisconsin state; we still have half the country to fly over until we get to Nevada. They'll be all over us before then."

"Ya want us to shoot 'em down, boss?" Rumble asked, sounding a little too eager for the target practise.

Soundwave made a noise that was very much like a snarl. He took a deep drag of air in order to rein himself in. "We shouldn't kill them. Send out an EMP blast to short out their on-board computers; the humans be able to eject without harm. Continue to do so for any aircrafts trying to engage us. Take us up higher into the atmosphere and engage thrusters to 30 percent. They won't be able to keep up."

"Yes, sir!" crowed the symbiotes, cutting away to employ Soundwave's orders.

Not even an astrosecond later, several muted discharges announced the firing of the ordered EMPs. If their human pursuers had any smarts in them, they'd let that be an example of what would become of them if they tried anything else incredibly stupid. The Darksyde might have been a flying pile of trash by Cybertronian standards, but it was still lightyears ahead of anything Earth had yet to come up with.

"Think that will get them to lay off?" Sideswipe asked through a clenched jaw, trying for one of his classic cocky smirks. It looked more like a strained grimace. He didn't have enough experience with humans as a whole to make any generalities about the species.

Soundwave growled grimly. "No, they're a stubborn species, perhaps even more so than our own. More will come, and they have been known to overwhelm us with sheer numbers."

Sunstreaker snarled viciously. It was hard to tell if he was responding to the threat of the humans or if he was suffering through a fresh attack on his spark. Judging by Sideswipe's mirrored reaction, Sunstreaker was merely suffering from his current condition. As soon as it passed, Sideswipe glared up at Soundwave.

"Thin the herd a little if you have to," he snapped, sounding borderline feral.

Soundwave regarded him severely for a moment before he was forced to return his attention to the data compression machine as it finished compressing one processor and was preparing to transfer the information to the new one. As he worked, he said, "You are not in your right mind at the moment. I am sure you will feel differently in a moment."

Worm nodded gently, and for simplicity's sake he signed a brief message for the Autobot. "We're out in the open like this; we are already being recorded on several news channels. Optimus Prime and the others will see us soon enough and will be able to contact the human military to call them off."

Sideswipe snorted, not in the mood to be soothed by anything.

The data compression computer gave a muted bleat, summoning Soundwave's undivided attention. He typed at the keypad for several long moments, followed by a heavy sigh. "That's the best I can do for her. We will have to hope for the best." He beckoned to the twins. "She can be placed in the sparkcase now."

Trojan and Worm were required to help Sunstreaker up. Sideswipe stuck close, but couldn't help as much as he wanted to with only one arm and about as much strength as a newborn kitten. Sunstreaker was quickly laid on floor beneath the makeshift berth carrying Moonfly's tiny frame. He was held down by his shoulders and legs so that he wouldn't convulse during the process. He appeared to come to his senses for a brief moment as his gaze met Soundwave's just as the larger mech knelt over him.

"T-take her," sputtered the warrior as his chest cracked open. Once again, they were assaulted by his spark's unusual brightness, this time added by a second presence. The second spark sensed freedom and bolted from the sparkcase, only to land in Soundwave's outstretched hand. Like a tension wire that had finally snapped, Sunstreaker jerked rigid before falling limp.

Worm made a grunting sound, looking to Soundwave enquiringly.

"No," responded Soundwave. "The spark won't have to be compressed. It was compacted enough by the pressure of sharing Sunstreaker's sparkcase." He moved over Virus's new frame, gently tilting his cupped hand into the tiny, dark void gaping in the frame's chest. Her spark fluttered gently, as if recognizing the frame being presented to it. With little hesitation, it slid home.

Life came into the frame instantaneously. Her sparkcase snapped shut, chassis expanding as a deep drag of air cycled through her vents to clear dust. Whereas her spark had been a raging ball of energy, once the essence was contained, the fight seemed to drain out of her. With a groan, she rolled over on to her front and rose on all fours like she was still a quadruped. She rocked back and forth like that, wobbling until weakness and disorientation caused her to fall to her side. This was followed by a long period of laying motionless like a doll as she stared dead ahead.

Sunstreaker, with generous help from Trojan, levered himself to his feet. "How is she? Is she alright?" he demanded, taking stock of the tiny familiar form laying on the berth. Sideswipe stumbled over, peering over Sunstreaker's shoulder to get a good look at the main attraction of the show.

"Why isn't she moving?" asked the red mech worriedly. "Did something go wrong?"

"It appears the damages to her processor were as severe as I feared," Soundwave said grimly.

"No, they're not," Virus suddenly replied, causing everyone to jump. "I can move, it's just taking me a little while to realign my sensors." Her voice had changed from its ravaged timbre to the quietly morose melody that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe recognized as the true Moonfly. She continued to lay motionless, frowning ever so slightly. "What happened to my other frame?"

"It was destroyed," Soundwave replied. "There is no hope of recovering it."

"That' s unfortunate." Virus flopped onto her other side, taking note of the large pile of useless rust laying not far from her on a separate berth. She was going to miss that frame. "How did I make it into this frame?"

Sunstreaker coughed, leaning over the beetle-green bot. She was exactly as he remembered her, even though her back was to him; small and thin, a medical-class drone with a spark. He reached out to touch her, but jerked back at the last moment. It was harder to deny the past when it was sitting so close. Eventually, he was able to murmur, "I kept your spark alive in my sparkcase."

"Who-? ...you what?" Virus questioned confusedly; try as she might, she was having a horrible time trying to put a designation to that voice. Setting aside the confusion, she asked, "How?"

"We're freaks of nature," Sideswipe shrugged offhandedly.

"Their unusual physiology made it possible," Soundwave better elaborated. "It appears that they lack the capability of bonding with others, sparing you any unfortunate consequences of the debacle. And, luckily for you, they also lack the rejection complex that most sparkmates have to outside forces."

Virus narrowed her optics. "I think I remember something about that... I'm not sure." She shook her head. "I'm useless like this. Give me a moment to run some diagnostics..." She was quiet again, remaining limp where she lay. A moment later, she began to reel off her status: "Core programming is mostly intact, but- ah... You needn't worry about my loyalty programming; it's been corrupted. I can't access it anymore."

"Nonetheless, it will need to be removed later. So long as you possess it, it will continue to be a threat," Soundwave pressed.

"...yes. Deleting it would be for the best," sighed the small green bot. Without that aspect of her core programming operative, it was amazing how clearly she could think, regardless of how disorientated she currently was. "Personality subroutines are operating. Programmed and acquired skills are relatively unscathed... I have most of my memories, as well. They're scattered, though. Someone will have to help me reorder them later."

"Is there anything irreparably damaged?" Soundwave enquired.

"Everything damaged is replaceable." She sat up with a great amount of difficulty, forced to lean forward and splay her weight on her hands in order to stay upright. "I don't have any visual recognition subroutines... It's an inconvenience. If it wasn't for my spark scanner, I wouldn't be able to tell any of you apart." She cast them all a dull look. "I can't even put designations to faceplates right now."

"I will repair the subroutine later," Soundwave intoned. "We have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment."

Virus put a hand to the side of her head, trying to straighten out as much of her scrambled thoughts as she could. "Something about Megatron, wasn't it? Something went... wrong?"

Soundwave's faceplate noticeably darkened. "Yes."

Virus's frowned. "I can't remember- is he dead or alive?"

"He was dead," Soundwave growled. "He's not anymore."

"That's... unusual." She stuck out a hand with the expectation that either Trojan or Worm would help her to her feet, but someone else got there first. A damaged hand slipped under her own and lifted her to her feet. She was then allowed to lean on the appendage as she adapted to her newfound bipedalism. When she was steady, she looked to the faceplate of her helper; her optics told her it was squirrel, while her resonance scanner said it was... half a spark? The twin that had helped her before, presumably. Despite her processor telling her he was a squirrel, he was a rather handsome squirrel at that. "Which twin are you?"

"Sunstreaker," said the mech.

"Oh." For some reason, the designation resonated in her. Her spark knew it, while her mind... didn't quite get it yet. She blinked, canted her head, and then shrugged it off. "I can't seem to find any memory files on you," she announced. "We will have to discuss it later." She craned her neck to regard Soundwave. "Where is Flamewar and Nightshade?" She paused, optic ridges knitting together. "Those are their designations, right?"

Sunstreaker froze, surprised to find that his spark had sunk a little in knowing that Moonfly had forgotten all about him. Perhaps not permanently forgotten, but at least for the time being. Her bare dismissal stung as well. Worm offered to take his place supporting Virus when the other mech noticed his sudden distraction. Sideswipe wisely manoeuvred his brother to the side, away from the newly-reformatted femme.

Soundwave's visor dimmed, his fists clenching. His voice trembled minutely as he said, "Nightshade has been... terminated."

"I am sorry for your loss." Virus's mouthplates drew into a thin line. "What of Flamewar?"

"Taken."

Virus's beady optics narrowed further. "What are we doing in retaliation?"

"Currently, we are en route to the Autobot base to seek assistance. On our own, we do not have the firepower to engage the enemy. Hopefully the Autobots will see it fit to aid us in this."

The comms crackled again, followed by Rumble's voice announcing, "The little flesh bags have finally called off their offensive, but they're still going ta follow us ta Nevada."

"That's fine. Don't provoke them," Soundwave warned. "I will be to the bridge shortly."

"How's Virus? She make it?"

"I'm functional," Virus stated dryly. "Don't crash my ship."

"Aye aye, captain," Rumble crowed before signing off.

Sideswipe's hold on Sunstreaker's forearm tightened, tugging him toward the exit of the hangar. Sunstreaker resisted, tugging back stubbornly.

"Where are we going?" hissed the golden mech.

Sideswipe shook his head. "We both need a walk, bro. After what you just put us through, we so need a walk." To the Decepticons, he nodded and said, "We're going to go check on Barricade- see how he's holding up. Let us know when we arrive; we'll disembark with you."

"Be careful. Barricade will not be himself," Trojan signed warningly. "If he becomes too much to handle, call and one of us will come."

"Will do," the red Autobot assured. The twins turned together to leave on their pseudo-mission.

"Wait," Virus called, stumbling away from Worm's hand to the edge of the tray she stood on. She offered her hand, palm up, to Sunstreaker. "You saved my life. Thank you."

Startled, Sunstreaker stared at the offered hand before stretching out his own to lay his clawed fingertips in that very small palm. "You're welcome."


The whole base was in an uproar.

Humans ran in every direction, trying to get a handle on exactly what was happening. Every minuted seemed to bring another human-instrumented apocalyptic incident crashing down at their feet. Every Cybertronian with half a byte of sense had escaped outside, desperately trying to get away from the scrambling organics under their feet. In attempts to be doing something useful, the Autobots took it onto themselves to comb the skies looking for the first signs of the Darksyde approaching. Not that the Autobots were getting off easy with their escape. Each suffered their own headache as communications from around the globe streamlined into their heads. It was nearly impossible trying to keep up with the spreading hysteria hitting the human populace.

Faster than what Blaster could keep up with alone, videos of the flaming mass in the sky above the Canadian eastern coast were spreading like wildfire. The Darksyde's underbelly was being exclaimed over and gaped at on nearly every human channel imaginable. The news coverage was only made more sensationalized every time a jet got too close to the ship and was immobilized by an EMP blast, forcing the pilot to eject before they crashed. Even if it was only self-defence, all the humans could see was some of their greatest flying weapons being plucked out of the sky like they were nothing.

The Darksyde had made it over the Great Lakes by the time it rose high enough into the atmosphere to avoid confrontation with the jets. It picked up its pace as well, but little good that would do it when every eye in the world was now watching for it.

The whole event had effectively snowballed after the incident caught international attention, which had been about ten minutes after the flaming presence in the sky appeared and five minutes after the Darksyde powered up and took to the sky. None were sure what they were looking at; alien, terrorist, or the latest military development the United States' government had conveniently forgot mention. The Darksyde was bigger than anything Earthlings had yet to develop for the sky, larger an even an aircraft carrier. It was definitely threatening looking. And it sure was the ugliest piece of flying technology Earth had ever laid eyes on. The more that the press reported on it, the more panic they were able to instill in the public at large.

Of course, the moment Secretary Keller got a gander of the Decepticons on the morning news, he'd instantly put in a call to Captain William Lennox. Will had been made deaf in his right ear by violence of the demands Keller was making; Who the hell did those aliens think they were? What the hell were they doing in the air in plain sight? How the hell was the military supposed to react to them? The good captain had passed his superior off to Optimus Prime, who had been forced to calm the human down and painfully explain that he had as much knowledge about what was going on that Keller did. This is not put the Secretary of Defence at ease. Their exchange had quickly turned into an international teleconference when several more countries started calling in demanding to know what was going on and if they had to bring their own military powers into the picture.

The Darksyde had made it into Nebraskan airspace by the time Optimus successfully managed to explain to all international parties involved that the Decepticons were neutral now. They (hopefully) had a very good reason for their actions. If they had meant serious harm to anyone, the east coast of North America wouldn't exist anymore.

The Darksyde had made it all the way into the state of Colorado by the time Optimus managed to dissuade the American government from launching a full-scale attack on their own soil. Sadly, when the F-22s and all other accompanying aircrafts fell into a non-offencive flanking formation without warning, some uninformed humans took it as a sign of surrender to the UFO. Continued silence on the government's part did not aid the growing public hysteria.

It was worse on the internet. Like a virus, once a video appeared, it quickly infected all else around it, multiplying to the power of ten. YouTube and every other video clip site was being swamped by video after viral video of the Darksyde. Facebook was clogged with humans exclaiming in capitalized letters that a large black ship like nothing they had ever seen before just flew over their house. Twitter was hit with a deluge of panicked tweets. Maggie, Glen, and every other active human in the know about the Cybertronians and savvy enough to shut down a website had their hands full doing battle with the entire virtual world.

Now, only a mere few hours since the Darksyde first took to the sky, Earth was in the grips of one of its most spectacular panic attacks ever.

Simmons, of all the sentient beings present in the Nevadan desert, was currently taking the new rather... well.

"My life is over," the agent stated matter-of-factly next to Optimus's right foot.

"Shut up, Simmons," Will groaned, scrubbing a tired hand across his face.

"Bite me, captain," Simmons replied. "Everything I have ever worked for; every cover-up I have ever conducted: all for nothing. Nothing. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"I'm beginning to," Will growled dryly.

Simmons huffed. "Governments have been covering up the existence of aliens for generations! All that work! Ruined when some of your kind-" he pointed at the flame-painted semi accusingly, "-decide to take a joyride over my country. Now my planet is going to hell in a hand-basket." He glared up at Prime through a pair of pitch-black sunglasses. "Thank you, you useless robot."

"This is no time for histrionics, Agent Simmons," Optimus chided grimly.

"I am being completely level-headed right now, Prime. One hundred percent serious," replied the agent. "Seriously. This is great. Thanks."

"Lay off, Simmons," Will ordered tensely. "This isn't his fault."

"No, I know that," snapped Simmons "He's just the one I'm blaming right now until those Decepti-morons show up."

"I am sure the Decepticon-Neutrals have a good explanation for this. They wouldn't risk their personal privacy like this unless it was for something important," Prime intoned as he continued to scan the clear skies. He raised his hand to his audio as a transmission came in from Bumblebee.

"I've spotted them, Prime; at their current speed, they'll be over the base shortly. Do you want me to hail them?"

"Yes. Ask them to coordinate with Blaster for the landing site we've selected for them," Optimus ordered gravely. "I will alert the other Autobots to meet them there." Cutting out of the transmission, he quickly relayed the appropriate message to the rest of the Autobots. Once done, he transformed, startling his human company with the sudden shift.

"Something come up?" Will asked warily.

"The Darksyde is within range," Optimus announced. "The Autobots and I are going to meet it at the landing site. You and Simmons return to base."

Will looked disgruntled with the order, while Simmons looked downright mutinous.

"Don't you think we should come along just in case?" offered the captain.

"No. I feel that this is something that should be kept within our species," Optimus replied. "However, if something should go wrong, can I rely on you and the other humans for backup?"

Will gave a determined nod. "At the first sign of trouble, we'll be there."

"Whether or not we'll be any use is still up for debate, though," Simmons huffed as he was bullied back toward their waiting truck. Leaning out the window, he tipped his sunglasses down and gave Optimus a good, long look. "This is already an international heyday; try not to make it an interplanetary one."

"At this point in time, I can make no promises," Prime replied ominously.


With their secret essentially outed to the people of Earth, and the people of Earth not exactly taking it too well, the Autobots were collectively simmering in foul moods. Some were on fouler moods than others.

"What do you want to bet the 'Cons have nothing good to say?" Ironhide growled as he glared at the great ship approaching. The Darksyde wasn't easy to miss; a giant floating stain of black and rust in the sky growing larger with each passing astrosecond.

Chromia elbowed her mate. "Mute it, Hide. This could be important."

"I never said it wasn't important, I said it probably wasn't good," Ironhide rumbled, rubbing his abused side.

Ratchet harrumphed, his steely gaze flashing under the blaze of the afternoon sun. "No, I wouldn't think they're bringing any good news. Anything that facilitates the need to traumatize an entire planet in less than a day generally does not bode well."

"No, but it's probably a new record for our species," Wheeljack piped in, much to his fellow Autobots' consternation.

"We couldn't possibly have made a worst first impression on the humans even if we tried," Bumblebee lamented. "I've been on this planet for five years with not one incident, and the Decepticons go and ruin it in less than a joor!"

"We'll probably get our eviction notice from the planet by tomorrow," Smokescreen snorted.

"But Earth's our home now, too... we can't just get evicted, can we?" Bluestreak asked worriedly.

"If they don't evict us, they'll probably try ta catch us ta dissect us like they did ta Megatron an' Bumblebee," Jazz cut in scathingly. Bumblebee twittered nervously, while Bluestreak squeaked fearfully. The moods of the older Autobots darkened considerably.

"It won't come to any of that," Optimus interjected pointedly, bringing an end to the list of morbid possibilities. There was no point in dwelling on things that might never come to pass.

The Darksyde's descendant onto the desert plains stirred up great gushes of hot air and fits of rough red dust. Clouds of debris were thrown into whirling dervishes, clogging the air and blocking out the remaining light. The gathered Autobots were forced to retreat farther back lest they wish to have their paint sandblasted off their hides. Some protected their faceplates by engaging their battlemasks, while others hid behind their forearms or retractable shields. Blaster, who had hitched a ride with Trailbreaker to the landing site, pulled out a large umbrella from subspace and crouched behind it.

With its landing struts engaged, the Darksyde touched down with a terrible groan. Hydraulics moaned, pistons hissed, and several sheets of outer-hull cracked loudly. Over the deafening noise of the ship settling, its human company screamed overhead in tight formation. It did not appear likely that the humans would simply back off, which only served to irk the Cybertronians. This was no places for their human hosts right now.

Blaster harrumphed, his antennae rearranging atop his head. In the next moment, the crowd of jets were circling around and heading away to the nearby base. When someone cast the microbot an enquiring stare, he shrugged. "We're already in deep slag- I figure impersonating a couple of human officials is the least of our problems."

A hatch along the side of the ship cracked open, a ramp descending. The first to appear in the hatchway were the twins. They surveyed their comrades carefully, cast each other a glance, and then nodded an affirmative to the bots waiting behind them. The message was clear: they had been making sure no one was going to shoot down their Decepticon friends point-blank.

They didn't even make it to the bottom of the ramp before Ratchet exclaimed, "What the pit happened to you?"

Sideswipe gripped his right shoulder where free hanging wires sparked pitifully. His optics were cool, keeping the medic at bay with a harsh stare. "No one stays dead on this Primus-damned planet," he announced. "No one fragging stays dead."

"But your arm! Where is it?" the medic crowed, as if the red mech had simply misplaced it somewhere. "Primus, your shoulder's still leaking! Look at the mess!"

"Nah, Ratchet, it's just happy to see you," Sideswipe replied with a borderline sneer. When Ratchet refused to back down, his obvious and sincere concern firmly fixed upon the twins, Sideswipe's spiteful attitude wavered. Finally his expression dissolved into one of tired relief. "I'm kinda happy, too, you know? You always know how to clean up my messes."

Ratchet paused, and then shook his head. "You've given me plenty of practise."

And just like that, all the bad air between the twins and their favourite medic cleared.

Sideswipe suddenly grinned, using Sunstreaker as his prop as he exaggerated his condition. His neural net was shut down, so it wasn't like he was suffering too greatly. "Now you can fawn over me like my delicate self deserves, Ratch'. I'm all yours for the pampering, just how you like it."

"I see the energon loss has gone to your head," Ratchet sighed, though smirking nonetheless. "We'll see if I can't get those energon lines sutured, and then I'm going to get a closer look at you." He nodded adamantly to Sunstreaker, who looked in less-than-stellar condition. Sunstreaker was just as relieved as his brother to be once again under the care of Ratchet, though he was less theatric about it. His small smile was enough. Without further adieu, Ratchet trotted up the ramp to assist the twins down, whilst imparting upon them a healthy scolding about losing their limbs in battle. It was almost an endearing sight to see the trio squabbling again. The Autobots simply weren't the Autobots without it. Unfortunately, the grimness of the situation came to the forefront as the procession down the ramp continued.

Trojan and Worm followed behind the twins, clearly displeased to be among the Autobots again. Ridding on their shoulders was an unfamiliar beetle-green creature. Upon closer inspection, her spark resonance revealed her to be a downsized version of Virus. She stared with a neutral faceplate and dull optics. Behind them came Soundwave with Barricade solemnly pacing at his side. The sybiotes were tucked away in their compartments for the sake of the meeting. Soundwave looked graver than usual as he regarded the gathering. Barricade, though solemn, appeared to be fighting against a rage of internal violence.

The absence of the femmes Flamewar and Nightshade was immediately noted.

As per the usual greetings between leaders, Optimus came forward with his hand outstretched to touch Soundwave's in greeting. He also offered the gesture to Virus in goodwill, though she only stared at the hand and requested to know who he was. Soundwave wisely informed the Autobots of the mercenary's temporary handicap, warning them not to take it lightly. Virus was still capable of infecting them, she just wouldn't know who she was infecting. Optimus still offered his hand nonetheless to the femme, and once she knew who he was, she reluctantly placed her fingertips on the end of one of his fingers in greeting.

Once formalities were addressed, Optimus turned so that he no longer stood as a divide between his Autobots and the newly arrived Decepticons.

"I think everyone is wondering the same question," Optimus said. "Why are you here?"

Soundwave carefully regarded the gathered Autobots, all of whom had once been his enemies not long ago. He shifted his gaze to meet Optimus's grave stare, and with a voice that contained all the gravity of the situation, he said, "We need your help."

Taken aback for a moment by the honest plea of the words, Optimus gaped for a moment before recovering. "What happened?"

Ratchet finished his quick cauterizing job on Sideswipe's shoulder; he knew the telling signs of an attack. He directed his gaze to Soundwave. "Who attacked you?"

"Megatron," Soundwave replied darkly.

"That's not possible," Optimus said.

"I'd bet my right arm on it, Prime. Oh wait, I can't. Megatron destroyed it." Sideswipe intoned bitterly.

"Megatron's dead," Prime insisted, voicing the thoughts of most present.

"He was dead," Sunstreaker corrected grimly.

Barricade snarled when Optimus continued to look sceptical. "You think we're crazy? He took Flamewar! He killed Nightshade! That's not something we'd fragging make up!"

Prowl became the voice of reason as he said, "We must keep in mind that resurrections are not out of the realm of possibility anymore. If Jazz could be brought back, the same could apply to Megatron."

Jazz sneered, clearly not in favour of being lumped in with Megatron.

Perceptor stepped up amongst his towering brethren, peering up at the Decepticons enquiringly. "Perhaps you should explain your situation from the very beginning, starting with why you would think Megatron's corpse attacked you and then explain why you would come here to seek our assistance in the matter. I think a thorough and objective analysis of the events that have brought you here would help everyone's understanding greatly. After that, we shall worry about our current standing on Earth."

"Yes, that would be best," Soundwave conceded.

Instead of having more than two dozen Cybertronians standing around in the middle of the desert, they employed an informality that felt entirely incongruous with their dire situation and the company they were with: they all sat down. Some reverted to their alt modes for comfort, their shocks and rubber wheels acting as a cushion against the hard-packed ground. Soundwave and Optimus shared the ramp. Barricade was the only one who refused to sit, instead moving to the edges of the crowd to pace agitatedly.

"We don't have time for this!" he spat, glaring viciously. "We should be up there right now!" He whipped his hand to the sky obscured by the Darksyde. "That thing could be doing anything to her! I can't just stand here and do nothing!"

"We need the Autobots' help," Soundwave said before turning to the Autobots in order to recount his faction's tale. He made quick work of it, reporting a concise summary of the ordeal they had suffered through only a scant few hours before. Even as only bare facts, the horror of the story did not escape the Autobots. To add to the point, Soundwave employed several holograms in order to replay several key events to drive the gravity of the situation home: in full three-dimensional graphic horror, they witnessed Megatron's corpse awaken, Flamewar's capture, Sideswipe's arm crumble away, and Nightshade's fall before she disintegrated upon impact with the ground.

"As you can see, Megatron's back, and he is an extremely powerful opponent," Soundwave said, a tad quietly as he relived the moment of Nightshade's death. It took a moment for him to regain composure. "It is obvious that my faction lacks sufficient numbers and firepower to retaliate. A combined effort between us will be necessary."

"Yes, that much is obvious." Optimus contemplated Megatron's hologram, his gaze pensive. "But how is anything of this possible? There was no Allspark shard to bring him back like Jazz; you say he didn't even have a spark signature at all... He didn't seem at all like the Megatron I knew..."

Jazz's head jerked up, recalling two recent encounters with a creature who had no spark. Wary of speaking out just yet, he chose to wait a little longer and see if there were any other connections to be made.

Prowl sensed the saboteur's sudden tension. Unsure how to interpret it, he grasped his lover's hand reassuringly.

"You're right, Optimus... I don't think it was Megatron," Virus suddenly said, rubbing her forehead in a similar fashion one would when dealing with a serious headache. With all the major routing she was doing in her processor, a headache was the least of her problems.

"How so?" enquired Optimus, his optic ridges furrowing.

"Give me a moment... I'm looking for the file." Virus made a small noise of frustration, rapidly sorting through bytes of misplaced information. She dull optics flashed as she found the right sequence of data: "When I was connected to the frame, I felt this incredible... coldness inside him. It seemed to go on for forever, like a black hole." She drew her arms around herself. Despite the heat of the desert, she felt chilled. "I realize that this sounds strange, and that my word shouldn't be trusted, but whatever was inside Megatron, it was ancient but it wasn't... alive. Not like us. It was so powerful, though; darker than anything I have encountered before..."

Ratchet exchanged a hard look with Wheejack, who returned it with a haunted look of his own.

"There was something inside the frame before you even interfaced with it, wasn't there?" the medic asked grimly.

Virus's optics flashed briefly, surprised by the address. "Yes- I was drawn to something inside. It called to me."

Ratchet's faceplate hardened. "Wheeljack and I felt the same thing when we were working on the frame. When you looked the corpse in the optics, it was like it was staring back. You knew something was looking back." Virus nodded cautiously. Ratchet's optic ridges furrowed. "Whatever the thing was, it must have been trying to seduce someone into interfacing with it. It needed the energy boost in order to establish itself over the frame."

Jazz's hand involuntarily clenched around Prowl's.

"So... we're not dealing with Megatron anymore?" Bluestreaker asked cautiously.

"No, Blue, not Megs anymore," Wheeljack sighed.

"If not Megatron, then who are we supposed to be fighting here? Zombies? Ghosts?" Knockout huffed agitatedly.

When no longer able to stay silent, Jazz bowed his head and announced, "Ah think Ah know."

Prowl's optic ridges arched. "If you know something, tell us."

Jazz smirked, directing a blind stare to his lover. "Funny thing is, Ah've been tellin' ya for a while now, ya just didn't want ta believe meh."

"You mean the Fallen," Prowl stated, his expression quickly shifting to one of disapproval. "This is no time for jokes, Jazz."

"Who's jokin'?" Jazz growled. His visor snapped up, revealing twin dark pits where his optics should have been. "Does this look like a joke ta ya?"

"No." Prowl lowered his gaze, while the other recoiled in shock upon discovering the secret Jazz had been hiding behind his visor.

Satisfied that he had everyone's attention, Jazz continued. "Everythin' you've been sayin' matches up with the Fallen's modus operandi as far as Ah can tell. When he possesses someone, ya can't read their sparks anymore. When he came in Prowl's frame, he tried ta make a deal with meh- he wanted meh ta interface with Megatron's frame. Ah refused an' Ah paid for it." He touched his faceplate lightly. "Virus must have given him exactly what he needed- a way inta Megatron's frame. Must'a needed someone livin' ta get inta somethin' dead."

Prowl recoiled from the silver bot, dawning horror slowly coming across his features. If Jazz was to be believed, it meant Prowl's hands had been the ones to take away Jazz's optics. The Fallen might have been in control, but his frame had still been the instrument.

"If this creature is capable of possession, then why choose to raise a damaged, empty frame when there are so many living ones to choose from?" Optimus questioned. "Why Megatron's frame?"

"Why not?" Jazz snorted, shrugging. "The armour's thick, the guns are huge, and no one's home: perfect place fer someone in need of a frame and not lookin' ta share with no one."

Barricade made a noise of frustration. "I don't care whether that thing is Megatron, the Fallen, or the damned Unmaker himself! I want to know where the pit he went so I can get my mate back! He's up there somewhere-" he gestured sharply above him, "doing Primus-only-knows-what to her!"

"What about the cloaked ship above Earth?" offered Mirage. "If Megatron or the Fallen were going somewhere, a cloaked ship that not even our sensors can detect would be a perfect place to escape to."

"You didn't think to mention this before?" the Decepticon hunter growled.

Mirage sent the minibot a cool stare. "I was waiting for the appropriate time to segue into the topic. Until now, there was no reason to suspect the two to be connected."

"Cloaked ship?" Soundwave enquired, cutting off an impassioned diatribe from Barricade.

"The best cloaking technology we've ever seen, but we are sure of its presence," elaborated the Master Spy, tilting his chin up ever so slightly. "It's attempted attacks on several of our Autobots trying to land here, succeeding in taking two. There's nothing else beyond the atmosphere for anyone to go, unless "the Fallen" is heading for the wormhole, in which case he would be ripped apart by the gravitational eddies. The ship is the most logical option."

"The cloaked ship and the Fallen are in league together?" pondered Optimus.

"Well, it's not the strangest thing any of us have suggested so far," Wheeljack shrugged.

"What about the fires in the sky? What do we attribute that to?" Chromia enquired sharply. It wouldn't be wise to forget one possible threat for another.

"Could they be the same thing?" Optimus wondered carefully. "The classic Fallen of myth was a figure bathed in flame, after all. The fire could be some secondary manifestation of the creature."

"It sounds preposterous..." Perceptor murmured unsurely.

"About as preposterous as anything else we've been talking about?" Wheeljack said, patting the microbot on the head. "Suspend yer disbelief, Percy. Yer head will hurt less that way."

"I'm inclined to believe it. I'm sure we've all seen things in our lives that are extremely hard to explain, this could be yet another example," Optimus concluded. "We don't know the full extent of what this thing is capable of, but from what we've seen, it's dangerous. A threat like this must be addressed immediately before something worse can occur." He moved to his feet, Soundwave following suit, and mirrored by the rest of the Autobots. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

"An attack?" Smokescreen frowned, shooting a hard look to Prowl as his fellow tactician. "We should come up with a plan first, not rush head-first into things."

"This isn't something you can plan away for," Ironhide rumbled darkly. "The monster showed its hand and made it clear it's not here for a friendly chat. I say we show our hand, that we're not willing to roll over for something that just crawled out of the pit." He appealed to the Prime with burning optics. "I propose that every able-bodied bot be on this mission. We could use all the firepower we can get; we can't risk any time in mounting a counterattack."

"Yes, of course," Optimus agreed grimly. "I think we all feel it; the time for action is now."

"We will take the Darksyde," Soundwave proposed, stepping off the ramp to leave the way clear. "It is the only ship currently on Earth that can accommodate us all. Its weaponry is fully stocked and at the ready."

"I could fight this thing with both arms tied behind my back!" Sideswipe exclaimed, puffing out his chest.

"You're halfway there already," Ratchet growled. "You and Sunstreaker are staying here. You're not up for any fight in the conditions you're in." He pushed the pair back as others began to make their way to the ramp.

"That's not fair! I've fought in way worse condition before!" Sideswipe crowed.

"Life isn't fair. Stay here and stay safe," ordered the medic, turning away so that he, too, could join the procession.

As Ironhide passed the twins, he paused long enough to lay his hand to Sunstreaker's shoulder. Their gazes met. Neither said a word, but they didn't have to. It was enough to know that Ironhide, of all mechs, was rising to the occasion to help a Decepticon like Flamewar, an old friend of Sunstreaker's. Actions spoke far louder than words.

Trojan and Worm left Virus on the ground as they made their way to the ship. The femme took furious exception to the exclusion.

"The Darksyde is my ship! Flamewar is part of my crew! I'm coming, too!" she exclaimed, marching after her cohorts. They spun around and shooed her back. She bristled, hissing, "It's not too dangerous for me! I'm a biped now, not an invalid!"

"They mean it's too dangerous to have you with us," Soundwave said. "You still have no visual recognition subroutines; you're just as likely to infect one of us as you are the enemy. We can't risk that."

Virus opened her mouthplates to object, but was silenced as Blaster and Perceptor came up to flank her on either side. Now that she was downsized, she fit right in between Blaster's six-foot stature and Preceptor's eight.

"We're not going to be of much use up there either," Blaster imparted to Optimus. "Shorties like us don't pack a lot of firepower, but Percy and I can stay behind for damage control. With the way the planet is freaking out right now, there's still a lot of damage control to be done."

"Very well," Optimus nodded. He cast a careful look in Prowl's direction, who had yet to make his way to the ramp yet didn't seem able to look in Jazz's direction either. "Prowl?"

Startled, the tactician jerked his gaze up. He took his first step toward Prime, paused, looked back at Jazz, and then looked away again when he knew Jazz wouldn't be able to come, nor even look him in the optic. The silver mech couldn't come on this mission. His fault. He hurried up the ramp without another word.

Seeing as Prowl was the last of the Autobots to board, Soundwave and Optimus quickly made their trek up the ramp into the Darksyde. As soon as they were within the hatch, it sealed itself. The activity around them was tense and vigorous, warriors checking and double-checking themselves and their weaponry. How was one supposed to combat an enemy that lived between the realms of mythology and reality? They didn't even have a proper plan of attack.

For all they knew, they were sacrificing themselves on a suicide mission.

Soundwave rumbled deeply as he surveyed the cluster of Autobots, and then he regarded their leader. "Thank you. I am grateful for this, and I am sure if Barricade were not so preoccupied, he would convey his thanks as well."

"It's hard for an unbonded bot to understand where a sparkmate is coming from, but-," Optimus cut off as an electric shock passed through him. His hand rose to his chest as a new awareness spread throughout his consciousness, a dawning comprehension of who was contacting him and what her message really was. "-I know exactly how he feels..."