*awkwardly shuffles out from behind Recon* hello readers, long time no read! Sorry for being away for a while, was job hunting (unsuccessfully, curse you Covid and the government), then this chapter gave me some slight issues. Slight being I rewrote it like three separate times before getting to a point that I actually like. To be honest, I am actually four chapters ahead because I was so done with this chapter giving me problems. I had a burst of inspiration last week, and would've published this like three days ago but I wanted to clean it up a little. If I missed anything, don't hesitate to tell me in the comment section! I am continuing to follow through with creating the best possible story for you all.

Now, on to reader reviews. Again, i greatly appreciate questions, comments, concerns, anything you've gotta say!

Judgedg: Thank you for understanding, it is good to hear from you! I am so glad you appreciate my work and I always look forward to reading your reviews!

Again, remember to read, like, follow and review, it is extremely helpful to me as a writer!

'Til all are one!

Sparkplug POV

I am slammed into consciousness, my vision blurry, yet still desperately looking for any clues as to what's happening. I probe the bonds, noticing that Prowl is awake and focused intently on something outside of the cage. Next I connect to Recon, feeling her anger. ::Prowl, she's almost here, shouldn't we try and get out before the boss tries to tear this place apart?::

I can see Prowl consider the options before saying aloud, his voice smooth and full of amusement, "No, I'd like to see just how much power the boss bot has here. It would be… amusing to say the least, to see them try and stop her." Over the bond, he says, ::Jazz was following us ever since we passed the office. He's here right now, along with the other biped. I wish to toy with them before the boss comes if anything else.:: I could feel how amused he is through the bond as he answers my question, yet addresses the two mechs outside the containment field. I recognize Jazz, but am unfamiliar mech with the larger, door-winged black and white mech with a red chevron on his helm, who is intently focused on Prowl.

Jazz seems happy enough, greeting me with an energetic, "Hey Sparky, glad to see ya up and about! This here's my friend, Prowler, the Second in Command of the Autobots and head military strategist of the Autobot military. Nice wings, they new or somethin'?"

Prowl remains neutral in body language, and the only thing that gives off his annoyance at the smaller mech is a slight twitch of his door wings, a look of annoyance crossing his faceplates as he states in a monotone, flat voice, "My designation is Prowl, and it would be wise of you to remember that Jazz."

I bow my head in greeting, flaring my wings slightly to keep my balance, before addressing , "Yes, they are new, although have gotten me in a bit of trouble as you can see." With a clawed servo, I gesture at our current cell, wincing when I feel one of my wounds start to leak again. Focusing, I look through my processor to find the code for my wings. A moment later, the weight off my back and shoulders disappears.

Jazz looks sympathetically at me, noticing the wounds on Prowl's and my frame. "Hold on for a klick, I'll bust you mechs out and get you back to Recon and the Hatchet." He goes for the panel to deactivate the field, but before he can Prowl grabs the mech's arm.

"Jazz, I advise you against that course of action. Based on the information presented, it would be best for all bots involved if we wait for Recon to arrive and have all involved explain the situation before their release. Furthermore, the feline is staring at me as though I am prey, and there is a 82.6% chance that it will attempt to jump me as soon as it's released." I look at my Prowl, and can see him intensely focused on the bobbing SIC's doorwings, his optics wide and tail twitching. He's not wrong about that part…

Jazz turns to look between the mech and the feline, his smile only getting wider as he says, "Prowler, I'm bettin' on that to happen once th' lil' mech gets out. Gettin' these bots to Recon and the Hatchet is our top priority if we wanna keep everymech on base in one piece, 'specially seein' how the femme behind that door is over protective of big bot here." Finishing, he gestures at me.

I add in quickly, "Jazz is right, if we are out of this cage, we can at the very least try to pacify Recon before she has the opportunity to wreak havoc. I can already feel through our bond that she is… unhappy." Suddenly a loud 'thud' rings through the enclosed area. Nervous, yet also relieved, I stand along with Prowl as the two mechs on the outside turn towards the fortified door. Jazz throws a look at the SIC as if to say I told you so, before quickly deactivating the field keeping us in.

Without hesitation, Prowl pounces on the SIC's back while he's focused on the door, knocking him to the ground. He struggles briefly before he completely falls limp. Concerned, I bend, sniff and nudge at the mech's helm, noticing his optics are offline and a few swirls of smoke coming from his processor, but nothing major. Prowl's tail twitches as he uses a clawed servo to start batting at the wings sticking up in mid-air. Jazz can't help but laugh at the predicament as I say aloud, "I had a feeling this would happen..."

"I know, but it's just too good of an opportunity to pass up."

Hesitantly I ask, "... should we try and stop him?"

Jazz pauses as if thinking. "Naw, he's having too much fun. Prime'll have all this taken care of in no time." I don't argue, just settle down on my haunches to watch the brig door along with Jazz. I can hear voices outside, including the upset tone of Recon. I get closer to the door, hoping for some way out.

Without turning my head to look at Jazz, I break the silence and ask, "Is there no way to get out from the brig?"

Jazz pauses before replying, his voice closer than before, "Yeah, but it's easier for everyone if they opened from the outside."

I nod my head, still sniffing and searching for a way out despite what Jazz said, allowing the silence to stretch for a few moments longer before asking my burning question, "So, how long had you been following us?" I pause in my search, and instead turn back to the center of the brig to see Jazz, sitting down in a chair, peds kicked up on a table, servos behind his head, looking for all the world relaxed. A ways away the two Prowls on the floor, with my Prowl still on top of the mech. Glancing one more time at the brig doors, I turn back towards Jazz, and curl my body enough so my large head is next to the small mech.

Jazz doesn't make a move, just casually shrugs his shoulder plating before replying with, "Only from when you all passed the offices. Didn't realize you noticed."

I huff and replied, "I didn't actually. Prowl did… he's good at stuff like that when he's not distracted." I tilt my head to the current situation before continuing, choosing my words wisely, "Infiltration, surveillance, covert ops, hacking. You name it, he has some way to do it. Kinda like what your funcion is from what I understand? Recon knows more than I do about all this… Autobot, Decepticon civil war stuff."

Jazz doesn't comment, instead raises an optic ridge, in surprise or affirmation it's hard to tell. "Why say it like that?"

I raise an optic ridge at the mech. I try to sort through my thoughts before finally deciding that a little truth never hurt anyone. Hesitantly I say, "None of us have been like this for very long to be quite honest. These bodies are so new to us, all of us. Me, Recon, Prowl." I pause, trying to collect my thoughts before continuing, "It is… confusing to say the least. I don't know why we were chosen, reformatted and dumped in that city, but what I do know is that Recon has a job and I will do everything within my power to protect her. She has good judgement, and trusts the Autobots."

Jazz seems to consider me, his body language unthreatening but his optics are sharp, as if being able to see the dog that I was before being placed in this giant, clawed, winged beast form before asking, "What about you?"

I raise my head to look at the mech directly in the optics, light blue meeting teal. I hold optic contact, tilting my helm to the right before answering, "I don't know yet."

Recon POV

Running ahead of Blaster, I try to focus on my next move to bust my boys out of the brig, not noticing the larger mech yelling for me to wait up, or the comm unit pings from Blaster and Ratchet. I focus on the bond, noticing that I am surprisingly close to them. Letting the bond guide me, I let my thoughts wander, trying to figure out a plan. The autobots have been good to me so far despite this little bump in the road… ok maybe more like a large pothole. They've been helpful and all, but if this is how they react to new bots, maybe just helping out as a neutral would be better? I mean, Vec only said that I had to make sure that I followed orders right? His words keep replaying over and over in my mind: "This is not a request, but an order. You are going to be a good little soldier, return to the land of the living and do the bidding of Primus..."

What the frag does that even mean? Do the bidding of Primus, he says. What the frag does it even mean?! Noone has a direct link to Primus, but Optimus Prime was... or rather is the first to meet Primus and live to tell the tale? Technically the Prime is the servant of Primus, serving as both a political and spiritual leader of sorts to the entire race of Cybertronians. The lore varies from continuity to continuity, but they all agree that the Autobot Leader Optimus Prime is the reincarnation of one of the first Thirteen Primes, also named Optimus Prime. So what, I have to take orders from the Prime? Technically he hasn't done anything wrong to me directly and the Autobots are the good guys… mostly. Ok, so striking out on our own won't work. Well, guess I'm just gonna have to go with it and roll with what I've got.

Turning a sharp corner, I have to slide to an abrupt stop to try and not crash into the three mechs blocking the massive doors to the brig. I recognize the red and black, bulky plating of Ironhide, but not the other two mechs to his right are unfamiliar. The smaller mech has red an white plating, and seems made more for speed than strength, while the larger red and white one that the smaller one is cowering behind. None of them have weapons out that I can see, but the big bots could give me trouble regardless. "Ironhide, I need to get to the brig. I need to get my bots out."

Shaking his helm, he crosses his arms and states, as if fact, "No can do right now younglin'. Right now they are in a scrap heap of trouble with Red Alert here," and gestures at the squirrely looking smaller mech, before continuing, "and until Prime gets here to sort this all out, no ones going now." The smaller red mech who seemingly decided to not be as squirly as before starts ranting. He's the one that has the security glitch if I remember correctly...

"That's right, you and those cassettes," he practically spits in his rage, "are a major breach of security! As it is, your presence here is a breach of protocol. A neutral femme, despite their rarity, having full access to a millitarized city, much less a youngling femme, alone at that is insane! And is it not suspicious that she has cassettes? Shouldn't her weapons and subspaces been disabled the moment she stepped in here, hmmm? If not for Prime and Ratchet, you would be where you belong, in the brig. For all we know, she could be a Decepticon spy!" He pauses to take a vent, and the bigger red mech, probably Inferno from what I remember, slaps a servo over his mouth plates before Red Alert could spout more of his paranoid fantasies. Red finally sees the effect he has had on me and decides to just stare, his optics widening in fear probably and for good reason.

Inferno and Ironhide had noticed my steadily changing body language, as throughout his tirade, my doorwings have progressively gotten higher and higher, my body practically vibrating in anger at what the mech was insinuating. My stabilizing servos felt too weak to hold my body up, but still I stood, swaying back and forth as if in a trance. I had offline my optics during the tirade, and when I online them again, everything was so bright and clear, my sensors at full capacity while my spark raced, writhing in confusion and anger at what the mech had said and insinuated about me, about my family. At the moment, I can't tell if I want to rip the security director limb from limb, or throw them all out of the way and break down the brig door myself. Swiftly, before I can think of anything else, I turn to the nearest wall and slam my bunched up fist into the wall, crumpling the metal. I remove my servo slowly, sensing a presence.

Figuring since I have to follow the orders of Primus, the only thing that I could think of was that this must be the Matrix-bearer himself, and that gave me an idea. Taking a deep vent, I try to calm my racing spark. I turn my back from Red Alert, Inferno and Ironhide and instead face the Prime, Ratchet and Blaster. Easily sound 20 feet tall with red and blue armor, silver protoform and blue biolights, I have to look up to his faceplates, although I come to mid chest plates. Still upset, my spark races as I try to resist the urge to turn around, take out any of my weapons and fight the mechs behind me. I square my shoulders and try to wipe away my coolant tears that had apparently been streaming down my faceplates. I must look like a child to them… well according to the Doc bot over there I practically am one.

I find my voice, thick with emotion as I address the Prime, "I apologize for the trouble we have caused you, Optimus Prime. I am grateful for the assistance you and your army has allotted us. I realize we have overstayed our welcome, and as soon as I have my symbiotes back, we'll get out of your hair- er plating and you'll never see me again." The Primes face plate remains neutral, but I can see sympathy, concern and kindness in his bright optics, despite the mask covering part of his faceplates. Ratchet and Blaster on the other hand are tense and confused, eiter waiting to defend me from the mechs behind me or restrain me if I attack the Prime. The very thought of attacking the Prime makes my whole body shiver in disgust with the very thought.

Gently, the Prime addresses me, "There is no need for an apology Recon, we have all been a bit… tense due to your unorthodox arrival. There is much that needs to be addressed, and before you leave the base, I would like to make you an offer." Addressing Ironhide, he says, "Ironhide, if you would open the brig and release her symbiotes." I hear Ironhide grumbling but stepping to do as ordered, the Prime looks back and addresses me in a gentle tone, "How did you know that I was here youngling. Or for that matter, who I am."

I feel all optics on me as I look up at him, right in the optics. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He lifts an optic ridge, and seems amused by my answer, as if saying 'try me.' The only thing that I can think is How the frag is this mech so expressive when he doesn't even have a mouth. Or does he have a mouth? Gonna have to ask that later. Shaking myself menatally I tell the truth, "I can sense what's inside of you." Mentally I cringe at how that statement sounded. Sure, way to go Sash- er Recon, don't make it sound more awkward than it already is.

Optimus has both optic ridges up, Ratchet looking at me as if I am insane. It is Ratchet that asks next in a bewildered voice, "Femmeling… do you mean you can sense...sparks?"

Briefly I consider this information, turn in a circle to look at all the mechs around before focusing back on the Prime and say truthfully, "No, not sparks. The Matrix of Leadership." I am fairly certain that if the mechs could, their jaws would all be on the ground. At that exact moment, the brig door opened. I turn to see Sparkplug pounce over the helms of the three bots behind me and tackle me to the ground, pinning me to the floor. I giggle as he uses his glossa to lick my face plates in his excitement to be free. "Get off you overgrown mutt," I say jokingly.

He pauses his licking, rears his head back in mock hurt before stating aloud, "I'll have you know I am a purebred."

I freeze at his statement, trying to wrap my helm around the idea that my former pet just talked to me aloud and not in my head. I look around at the other mechs, focusing on Blaster and asking, "You… you heard that right?" Dumbfounded, he nods his helm. Addressing Sparkplug, I ask, my voice easily an octave or two higher than usual, "You talk!? Since when?!"

At that moment Prowl padds over silently and nuzzles his head against my helm and answers as if it is obvious, "Since today." He saunters off to rub his body against the leg plating of Ratchet. Fragging little spawn of Unicron why I otta….

Still pinned by Sparkplug, I focus my optics up at the Prime I ask, "Perhaps it would be a good idea for us to discuss this privately?"

A twinkle of amusement, tinged with something else, is in his optics as he says, "That is agreeable."

0

In a short amount of time, Optimus, Ironhide, Red Alert, Inferno, Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet, Blaster and myself were able to find a conference room, complete with a round table and chairs. My Prowl was comfortably seated on my lap, curled up as if in recharge, but I knew for a fact that he was listening in, waiting for a conversation to begin. Due to his size, though not his height being the problem, but rather his length, Sparkplug lay out in the hall with his head resting in the doorway. I flutter my doorwings and fidget in my seat, nervous about how to break the silence, each of them with different emotions in their optics, ranging from suspicion (Red Alert) and curiosity to concern. Before the Prime can start questioning, or tear me a new one given the pointed stares of Red Alert, I gather Prowl in my arms. His upper body is pressed close to my navy chest plating and his lower body dangle below, his tail swishing back and forth in agitation. All eyes were on me, and I take a moment to address just how cute and adorable Prowl is over the bond. He found it… less than amusing.

"I want to apologize once again to all of you about the chaos that has occurred on the base. I don't deserve - " The Prime raises a servo, stopping me before I can apologize once more.

"We have all been debriefed on the situation. It was not you or your symbiotes, merely a lack of communication and tact on all our parts. We have notified the entire base about your unique situation." I nod my head before seating myself down in the chair once more, tucking my legs under my body and to the side, leaning more so to the right, placing Prowl back into my lap before diving into my story. Well, not exactly my story. A more believable story than the whole 'I am a former organic, reformatted and sent unwillingly by the bastard Vector Prime and have to follow orders of Primus that I don't even know yet.' Instead I give a more believable tale, riddled with both the truth and lies

"We are from a colony world, living peacefully and untouched from the war. My function was that of an apprentice armourer for my… creator, fixing and making weapons and armor. There was an... accident," I pause, reliving the terror of the car accident in a flash before continuing my tale, "involving myself and my cassettes. It was terrifying to say the least. Next thing I know, we are all significantly changed, being in larger, newer frames, new coding in our processors and dropped off in a Primus-forsaken part of the planet. When I went on that race across the city… a program called Centurion activated but then, something took over. I was not aware of the chaos I caused, and apologize for that. The rest, you mechs know."

The first rule of lying: it's best to put a little bit of truth in every lie. My father, the manipulative drunk that he was, was the best liar and I learned from the best. Hopefully they won't try and 'return' me to my made-up colony. Certainly I felt guilty for lying, but the truth would not be good.

Nervously, I flutter my wings as each of the mechs contemplate my quick explanation, noting how all of them have some form of sympathy towards me. Optimus is the first to meet my optics, and I could tell that he knew more than what I was letting on. Wordlessly, I give a nod of my head, in my processor begging to the mech please, I need to talk with you. Alone. The Prime must have sent out a comm. to all the present bots because they all filled out of the room silently.

::Sparkplug, take Prowl and wait outside the room for me.:: Silently, the mechanical cat jumps out of my lap and trots out the door, Sparkplug retracting his head from the doorway, allowing the door to slide closed. Again I am astounded that despite the lack of lips, his optics are so expressive and gentile.

We sat in silence before finally I spoke, my voice shaky yet strong as I state, "There's more to what happened." I pause before continuing, "The mech who saved us had powers not of the normal type."

Amused, the Prime finally addresses me, his tone soft "How so?"

"We were saved by Vector Prime." Not taking a pause I dive in, trying to defend myself as I start pacing back and forth across from the Prime, the hold that I had on my control suddenly loosening as I start to defend myself, "And look, I know that it sounds impossible but it's true! He took my spark and somehow thrust it into this Primus forsaken frame, with no instructions on how the frag to use the damned thing! The last thing he said was that I have to be a good little soldier and follow Primus's orders but-" the Prime holds up his servo, confusion and worry clear on his faceplates. I finally realized that I had started speaking in a combination of English and Cybertronian. Emberrised, I slide back down to my seat, servos clasped together in my lap.

"I now understand your hesitancy for telling me this information, and I greatly appreciate your forthrightness in addressing this matter Recon. I realize you have gone through much these past cycles, but I must ask you this: What do you know of Alpha Trion."

I pause, trying to organize the information that I have before stating, "He is known as the Archivist of Iacon, from what I recall. He is the head overseer of the Hall of Iacon, and many have forgotten his true nature. Your mentor in your… younger years, the one known as Alpha Trion is the third prime, sometimes known as A3, and the holder of the Covenant of Primus and the Quill…" I patter out, realizing that I had already revealed far too much to the Prime by the look on his surprised, yet amused faceplates.

"Not many know of Alpha Trion and his background. I am curious as to how you obtained such information?" Despite the seriousness of the accusation, I could tell that he knew something that I did not. Scrambling for an answer, I try to find a plausible way in which to explain how I know about a forgotten mech.

"I would… prefer not to say. The information that I know would get me in a scrap heap of trouble with Vec I think." The Prime studies me intensely, and I hope that he will leave it at that. Thankfully he does but what he reveals next is even more surprising.

"The cycle you arrived at Iacon, you traveled to Alpha Trion's office and apparently talked with him from what I can gather. What transpired behind those doors is unknown." I stare at the Prime, offlining and then onlining my optics again, trying to make sense of this information. A small hint of terror grips my spark at what exactly this could mean for the ancient mech.

Hesitantly, I ask, "I didn't- it's not possible that- did I harm him?" The fear was tangible, of being unable to control my own body or the destruction that I could unwittingly cause to innocent people.

The Prime reassures me, "No, no one was harmed, only a conversation." I nod my head in confirmation as he continues, "Alpha Trion chose to not reveal the contents of your conversation, however he did say that you have great potential." Surprised, I can feel my audials and door wings hike up in astonishment at the words of a mech who I have never met or known.

"Why… Why do you so willingly trust me? What have I done?" That was the burning question. I had no friends, family or allies on this base, this world or even this plane of existence for that matter. Yet these mechs, granted beings of immense power and grated the titles of Prime, would stick out their neck plating for me? It made no sense!

"It is because Alpha Trion trust in what and who you are that I too will trust you as well..." The Prime continues on, but his words are meaningless to my mind, and finally I am able to see the Prime, not only as the strong leader hardened by war, commanding an army, strong in his convictions. Seemingly overlaid with the image of the large mech is that of the spark, of his origin, the curious data clerk Orion Pax, questioning the inequalities ingrained in the very system of Cybertron. Drawn from my thoughts, my mind snaps back to the present, "- and despite your talents for battle, it would be wise for you to meet with the specialists on the base, to train with them and find what your aptitude is. Are these acceptable terms?" Wow, Prime really went all out on his dialogues, huh?

Quickly I nod my head yes, then quickly say aloud, "Yes, sir. If that is all, may I leave? It has been a trying day- er cycle and I need to think about what has happened today." With that I stand from my seat once more and turn towards the door.

My back plating to the Prime, I go to open the door but pause at his next words, "Recon, I realize that this information is overwhelming but consider what I have said." Ha, overwhelming is the understatement of the century, is what i want to say.

Without turning I reply, "Thank you Prime." Without a further word, I exit the room quickly, already deep in thought as I speed walk towards the medbay for some medgrade energon, my symbiotes quickly following behind me. Despite the throng of Autobots milling about the halls, they create a path once they see my blazing optics and darkened mood… or maybe due to the massive form of Sparkplug flanking me. In no time at all, I am at the medbay and quickly locate Ratchet bent over a berth and working on Ironhide. Still feeling as if in a trance, I glide over towards the medic and tap on his shoulder plating, causing the medic to jump and turn, the tool he was using, a wrench, suddenly held over his helm poised to throw and his mouth plates open, probably ready with curses galore. His blazing optics lock onto my own, and quickly he loses his spark of anger quickly tamped down and the weapon subspaced. He takes a deep vent before looking back briefly at the unconscious mech before guiding me to a medberth, where he gestures for me to take a seat. I feel a tingle come over my body from a scan before the medic takes three cubes of medgrade from his subspace. He places them beside me on the berth before looking me directly in the optics. I can see his shoulder plating slump.

Concerned, I ask the medic in a very child-like voice, "Ratchet, are you ok?" The medic stares at me as if I am crazy before scoffing at me.

"Femmeling, I should be asking you that, not the other way around." He pauses before continuing in a more gentle tone as he starts examining my arm plating, before I can protest he strips off the armor and is already examining my wrist and elbow joints, "...as I suspected, you have a buildup of debris in your joints. As soon as you can, take yourself and those symbiotes to the washracks." Quickly and efficiently my armor is returned and the energon is in my subspace. I am still dazed and it feels as if I am mentally wading through waist deep jello. But before I can jump off the berth and scurry off to somewhere secluded, the medic speaks again. "Recon, you have much to learn," at this, he pauses as if trying to search for the words, "but know that whatever has happened, you are welcome on this base for as long as you need our assistance." Shocking me out of my stupor by the echo of the Optimus Prime's words, I realize that maybe this whole giant robot alien thing isn't half bad.

I thank the medic and make a hasty retreat from the medbay, my symbiotes sending me questioning tendrils of their consciousness as I make my way to the nearest exit of the base. I send them all my memories and feelings that transpired, including what I revealed to the Prime. Prowl the cynic that he is, questions my logic.

::Is it wise to play out hand so early in the game?:: I know he is merely concerned about what could happen to me and not being insubordinate. Gently I send reassurance and gratitude for bringing that same question to the forefront of my mind.

::Perhaps, but if what Vec said is true, about needing to follow Primus's word, having a direct line to Primus via the Prime is our best chance. Plus, he's the fragging Prime, and I trust his judgement.:: Prowl gives an affirmative as we finally make it to the star studded skies of Cybertrons surface. Around me, the lights of the surrounding towers and buildings make the shine of the bronze, gold and silver practically glow despite the deep night of space. I notice that there are mechs and femmes milling about, some pausing in their work to stare, others ignoring us completely. I try to make myself as small as possible, but realize that would be impossible. Certainly I am the average size of a mech, but finally I notice that there are barely any femmes here noticeably smaller compared to me. Chromia was almost my height, but still shorter than me. Great, like I need to stick out more than I already do. Plus, why didn't I notice this earlier.

Mentally kicking myself, I look back at Sparkplug, immediately realizing that Prowls small form is not there. Worriedly I ask, ::Where is your brother?:: But before he can reply, I hear a distinct yowl and a pull on my consciousness. Whirling, I see three smaller mechs cornering Prowl, asking about where Blaster is for some inane reason. In four long strides I am behind the mechs, glowering down. Each of their frames are similar in the style of their armor, but colors ranged. The far left mech was dark grey and yellow, the center blue and white, while the far right a red mech with horns. Wait, horns?

Fully opening the bond, I send out orders, ::Spark, get ready to fly. Prowl, while they're distracted, get to Sparkplug.:: Hoping that it isn't who I think it is, I tap on the red mechs shoulder. He turns, an ornery look on his faceplates as he glares up before finally meeting my faceplates, his mouthplates in a seemingly eternal scowl. "What do you want femme? Can't ya see I'm busy?" His friends turn their back from Prowl as well, allowing him to slink off and hopefully climb onto Sparkplug's back.

I give my sweetest smile, before backing down, raising my servos and stating, "My apologies, I was just looking for my symbiote." Quickly, I turn on my heel and climb onto his saddle and connect with Sparkplug, simultaneously as Prowl silently transforms into my door wings. I can hear the indignant yells of the minibots looking for Prowl. Quickly, I look back and see the mechs running towards us. Feeling bold, I give a slag-eating grin, a small saute before Sparkplug gives a roar of excitement and runs in the opposite direction, wings unfurled.

With two strong beats we are airborne, quickly soaring above the towers, the indignant yells of the minibots joined with other mechs shouts. I can feel how wobbly Sparkplug is beneath me, but I send reassurances that he is doing wonderful and amazing. Sending a few corrections through the bond before focusing on the world around us, I let out a shout of joy, my arms raised as we dip and twirl through the skies, dodging towers as we soar higher and higher above the towers. Through the bond, I feel the joy that Sparkplug feels for his first flight flowing across the bond, ricocheting between the three of us until all we can feel is the joy and happiness of being together and flying. Finally leveling out, we lazily circle the tower, enjoying the act of flying.

Despite the calm, my helm starts spinning again with possible meanings for my presence, this mission and already being somehow intrinsically linked with a fragging god, and being able to sense those touched by that same god. When did my life become so complicated? Oh right, I know exactly, it was when I died. Already I can begin to feel my mind spiraling to that oh so familiar, deep pit of depressive thoughts and feelings that plagued me when I was a human. Sensing my souring mood, Sparkplug starts looking for a place to land. Suddenly, I receive a ping on my comm. unit, and I answer.

"This is Chief Communication Officer Blaster speaking. Identify yourself, or you will be shot down." I grin at how serious he sounds before raising my fingers to my external comm. and replying.

"Hey Blaster it's me, Recon."

"Recon!? How the frag are you flyin' femme? Last time I checked you aren't exactly made for flight." I could tell he was confused, tinged with worry surprisingly.

"Sorry 'bout Blaster, I needed to get out of the base for a bit and Sparkplug here found out he's got wings so we're taking them for a little test drive. I apologize for not telling anyone, but it was quite spur of the moment." Already I am kicking myself for the little commotion outside the base.

"Ya I heard the rumors going around about what happened outside the base." I could hear the teasing tone of his voice but the words still sting a little.

"I'll remember that for next time. Look, I just wanna say thanks for everything today. I really appreciate it… Oh and if you could tell Ratchet where I am, I don't have his comm. yet."

"Oh... um... yeah sure, you know, only doing my job." The comm. abruptly ends, but I disregard the odd behavior as we land on a mid air ledge, leading into some hangar into the base. Probably for seekers and other flying frames to get in and out of the base fast, but for now is abandoned as it is in the middle of the shift. Quickly I jump off of Sparkplug and rush to the edge, Prowl transforming to pad silently after me. Stretching my body, I quickly unsubspace the energon cubes and place them on either side of me for my boys before gently sitting on the edge of the platform, legs dangling freely over the drop. I intake deeply, trying to relax my frame before taking a sip of my energon. Prowl and Sparkplug both sniff their respective cubes before starting to drink. Holding my cube in my servos I start to think about everything that's happened so far. Before I allow my thoughts to spiral again I talk aloud.

"I want to say thank you, both of you. For everything." I can feel confusion from both Sparkplug and Prowl, so I continue, "For staying with me. You could have chosen to move on, you had every right to do. Instead, you end up here, with me. For that, you have my utmost gratitude. To be honest with you guys, I am not always so sure about what we are doing, or our purpose. But I swear, from the bottom of my heart, to do my best to protect you with every fiber of my being. That when we get on the other side of this, we are all alive and together." I can feel the stunned silence from the symbiotes. I take yet another sip of my cube, staring over the planet, seeing the glittering stars above and the twinkling lights of distant cities off on the planet's surface.

Sparkplug is the first to answer, ::If we had the chance to redo all of this, I would do the same again to remain by your side. I speak for the both of us on that.:: Silently, Prowl sends his agreement before Sparkplug continues, ::Certainly you are not perfect, no one is and we are okay with that.:: Prowl is the next to speak.

::We owe our very existence to you. You swear to protect us, and in return we give you our loyalty and love, from the bottom of our sparks.::

Synchronously, they both swear, ::We swear to get on the other side, alive and together.:: My spark could practically soar out of my spark casing at how happy their oath made me feel.

Quickly subspacing the empty cubes, I gather up Prowls frame, tucked close to my spark as I retreat to the large, curled form of Sparkplug. far enough away from the edge, sheltered from the wind. Curling under a wing, protected and warm, with the two sparks tied to my very being, soothing me slowly to recharge. Before I succumb, I send through the bond ::I love you both so much,:: before my world turns dark