Author's Notes: Last time I updated this fic, I was in a pretty bad way health-wise. The good news is I'm doing much better now, in fact better than I've felt in quite some time. I've managed to do more than I once could, and that includes more writing. So to celebrate that, I went ahead and finished up the latest chapter of this fic as well as another TF fic that will be updated soon. Hope you guys like this story so far :)

Chapter 3

Scavenger Hunt

"What are we doing here?" Fireflight asked as he followed Rubberneck over a pile of debris.

"I told you. We're looking for treasure," Rubberneck replied conspiratorially.

Together the two Cybertronians made their way up the small mountain of rubbish and wreckage, searching for what? They didn't know.

This place was within the city limits of Polyhex, yet far enough away that no one would bother them. It had once been some sort of skyscraper, that much Fireflight could tell, but there was nothing left now except the shards of what had once been a grand piece of Cybertron's architecture. Rubberneck had invited Fireflight here to dig for buried treasure, but Fireflight was still a little nervous. What if he found a severed foot or an optic? Unicron had done so much damage to Polyhex when he crushed it with his massive hand. Who knew how many had died here?

"Do you have a shovel?" Rubberneck asked.

"No," Fireflight replied.

"That's okay. We can just use our servos to dig. I'm great at finding useful treasures!"

Fireflight nodded and tried to smile, but it came across as more of a wince. After seeing those bodies walk away and disappear, he was still very nervous. Cybertron not only had a serial killer, but possibly alien grave robbers. He tried to just have fun and not worry, but he knew any moment he'd get another call from Silverbolt saying another life had been claimed by this new monster. How could he relax with that on his processor?

"Hey Fireflight, are you okay? You're not digging," Rubberneck observed.

"Oh, um, actually, something is bothering me," Fireflight reluctantly admitted, "I've been working on a murder case with my brothers, and it's starting to get weird."

"Murder case? I didn't know you were a police mech," Rubberneck replied; impressed, "I thought you were just a soldier."

"There really isn't much distinction between the two jobs on Cybertron anymore," Fireflight explained, "Kup says there aren't as many Cybertronians as there used to be, so everybody has to pitch in. Even our ambassador from Planet Junk has to help us sometimes."

"Junk? That's not a planet. It's just a place to dump garbage," Rubberneck remarked.

"Oh no, there are people living there," Fireflight told him, "The Junkions are mechanized life forms like us, but they're very...odd. They idolize TV culture from earth, an organic planet that's only known about Cybertron for a few decades. I don't really know how the Junkions lived before they discovered television. Wreck-Gar tried to tell us once, but his dialect is very hard to understand. It's mostly made up of TV quotes."

"Wow, you've seen so much, Fireflight!" Rubberneck exclaimed, "I wish I could have those kinds of adventures. I wish my world had been like yours. When I was here last the caste system was very oppressive. Police mechs were powerful elites, while soldiers barely had enough energon to survive. I used to see seekers flying in the sky...hey, I remember something!"

"You do?" Fireflight asked excitedly, "Well what is it?"

"I remember seeing seekers flying above us, and wondering how they didn't starve," Rubberneck replied, "Fishtail and I had theories, but we never really knew. I'm glad its not like that now. I'm glad you and your brothers don't starve."

"Hm, I never really thought about that before," Fireflight pondered, "The Ark always had enough energon, and Cybertron gets plenty of energon from other worlds now. Skydive says we've become a real economic force in the galaxy under Rodimus Prime."

"The amount of energon wasn't the problem before," Rubberneck told him, "It was who got to have some. Rich mechs hated poor mechs. I think I was poor, but I don't remember. All I remember is we lived outside."

"You keep talking about a caste system, but I don't remember any of the other Autobots talking about it. The war was about Autobots vs Decepticons, right?"

"I don't know," Rubberneck shrugged, "I wasn't here for the war. Oh, hang on! I'm getting a comm..."

Fireflight waited while Rubberneck's green optics went dim. Fireflight decided that since his friend was on the comm that he might as well keep digging.

He didn't know what they were looking for, only that they were looking for treasure. Polyhex had once been a Decepticon capital before Unicron destroyed it, so Fireflight scanned the area for bombs before digging. Satisfied that everything was safe, he clawed into the rubble with his bare servos. After a moment of digging however...

"Ow!" Fireflight yelped in pain.

He retracted his servo and found that a small blade was jammed inside his index digit. Fireflight howled in pain, and Rubberneck disconnected his comm just in time to see this.

"Fireflight! Hold still!"

"It hurts! Why didn't I scan for sharp things!?"

"Everything is a sharp thing," Rubberneck pointed out, "We're digging in metal. Hold still, I'm gonna get it out for you..."

Rubberneck then pulled back two of his digits to allow his cable probes free reign. Fireflight was amazed at how intricate something so floppy seemed. They were like Quintesson tentacles, only black with silver tips. The probes gently wedged into the wound and latched onto the base of the blade. One probe wrapped around the blade and pulled it out, while the other probe vacuumed up and dried the leaking energon around the fuel line.

"Wow...I don't think even Ratchet could have done that," Fireflight breathed, "What are those?"

"Harvester probes," Rubberneck replied, looking away as he spoke, "I don't like them, but soon I'll get them removed."

"Removed? But that was amazing!" Fireflight exclaimed incredulously, "You could go to school and become a medic, or maybe an inventor."

"You really think I could do stuff like that?" Rubberneck asked bashfully.

"Of course!" Fireflight encouraged, "Think of all the lives you could save! All the Cybertronians you could help!"

Fireflight's words had an effect the young Aerialbot didn't expect. Rubberneck started sobbing loudly with his face in his servos. Fireflight was shocked and worried that he might have said something to hurt his new friend. Why would helping people upset him?

"Wait! No! Don't cry!" Fireflight frantically shouted, "You don't have to be a medic if you don't want to!"

"Oh, Fireflight!" Rubberneck wailed, "I...I...I have to go. That comm was saying I have to go, but I don't want to!"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Fireflight replied as he patted his friend's back, "We can play another time. Hey, I know you like to collect things. Maybe you should keep this little blade we found. You can peel away mesh with it or something."

"Really? For me?" Rubberneck asked, touched, "Thank you, Fireflight. I don't think anyone has ever given me anything before. Then again maybe they did. I don't remember. I don't even really know where I got my Fishtail Fox, so I could be wrong. Either way, I'm gonna remember this forever!"

Rubberneck then subspaced the knife and transformed back into his alt mode. Fireflight watched the compact truck drive away over the debris, and he couldn't help but wonder how a grounder could navigate such a mess so well. He knew others that could, like Blurr and Wreck-Gar, but he never understood how they did it.

The sun never seemed to set on the planet Charr. It was perpetually hot, blindingly bright, and so dry that even steam dared not grace this planet's surface.

It was in this inhospitable purgatory where the Decepticons lived and plotted. They wanted Cybertron back from their overwhelming foes: the Autobots. Galvatron, the mech that was their last hope of salvation, was a crazed madman that only kept his power because of loyal sycophants and an atmosphere so thick with intimidation that the Decepticons practically breathed it.

It was in this literal and metaphorical climate that the Constructicons, the group that made up the original combiner, planned their escape.

"I'm tellin' ya, this ain't gonna work," Bonecrusher growled as he surveyed their blueprints, "The Sweeps are everywhere. They'll see us, and we'll be scrap metal before we even enter the atmosphere."

"I know it's a long shot," Scrapper said as he gripped the makeshift table, "But we're out of options. Galvatron doesn't care about us. He only cares about fighting the Autobots and maintaining his power over us. Cyclonus won't help us either. He benefits more from Galvatron's instability than anyone, because he gets to be the power behind the throne. If we're gonna survive, then we have to adapt."

"But changing Devastator?" Long Haul asked incredulously, "Devastator is the only reason they keep giving us fuel. Without our combiner mode, we're doomed."

"Have faith, Long Haul," Hook consoled, "This is an all or nothing gambit. If we lose, we die. If we win, then everything will have been worth it. We followed the Decepticons because Megatron was a brilliant leader and Shockwave gave us our combiner form. Now both of these mechs are dead, and we have no reason to remain loyal to these tyrants. Come brothers, let us break our chains. Let us turn what was once Devastator into a force for creation...a force...for interstellar travel."

Scrapper smiled, Mixmaster rubbed his servos together in anticipation, and Long Haul and Bonecrusher nodded in acquiescence. There was just one thing missing from their plan, or rather, one mech.

"Where is Scavenger?" Hook suddenly asked after taking a head count, "He was told to be here at exactly 42:00 hours."

"Maybe he couldn't get away," Long Haul suggested, "Galvatron does like to give us useless tasks to do. Not to mention the Combaticons. I don't know how they became Galvatron's favorite combiner team, but they've been gloatin' about it ever since. I hate those guys!"

"We all hate them, Long Haul," Hook sighed longsufferingly, "But right now we have a bigger issue. We need Scavenger here so he knows the plan."

"Indeed," Scrapper nodded, "Constructicons! Spread out and search!"

Meanwhile, Scavenger had just finished cataloguing the energon rations available for the orn, and it wasn't looking good. He hated giving Galvatron bad news (since he didn't want to get shot), so he decided to look around to see if he could find another cube.

Just one cube...just a little more... Scavenger thought desperately, trying to will the universe to give him a break. We'll never make it to Cybertron to raid the Autobots again if we don't have enough energon. Oh mech, I hope whatever plan Scrapper came up with to get us outta here works.

Scavenger hated this planet so much more than he had hated earth. In fact, he had fond memories of his brief time on the blue and green planet. Scavenger's one joy in the universe was to collect things, so he loved it when he found out just how much stuff earth had. He filled up his subspace with goodies, from the small and intricate to the bulky and useless. On Chaar however, there were no things. There were no clouds, there was no trash, and there was no hope.

As Scavenger searched the molten plains for any energon he might have forgotten to catalogue, he caught sight of something.

Something! It was really something! Scavenger didn't even know what the object was, but he was already excited. Something new for his subspace. Perhaps even a tool to build with! Maybe it was litter, or maybe it was a rock. At this point he'd take a rock. It certainly beat all the nothing he'd been looking at lately.

When Scavenger approached the object, he saw that it was a mesh turbo fox toy. He picked it up and squeezed it. The filling was likely some sort of gravel since the heat didn't seem to affect the composition. It didn't exactly look homemade, but something about it seemed off. Ah, of course! It was the paw, enlarged to make room for a voice recorder. Oh, this was a rare find indeed!

Scavenger smiled at finding such a cool thing out in the middle of this desert planet. He squeezed the paw to hear it speak; excitement electrifying his circuits.

"Gotcha!" The doll spoke in a sparkling's voice.

Scavenger laughed at how cute it sounded, not understanding the siren call he had just set off. Just as the Constructicon was about to put the turbo fox in his subspace, he saw a shadow drape itself over him. Normally he would be happy with the shade, but he didn't want someone stealing his new toy.

"Hey, get away from me ya lousy- Hey! Who are you?" Scavenger demanded to know, "Hey wait, what are those? Ow! No! Get away from me! AAAAAHHHHH!"

The scream went ignored by most of the other Decepticons, used to violence and suffering on Chaar. One however took notice. Bonecrusher would know Scavenger's vocalizer anywhere.

The ill-tempered Constructicon followed the noise his brother was making, but soon he had to stop. Scavenger had opened the spark bond to call for help, but in doing so had allowed his brothers to feel the pain he was experiencing.

Every Constructicon, wherever they were on the planet, buckled under the death throes of their brother. None of them would withstand the pain enough to run to him and help him. Bonecrusher, knowing he was closest, tried his best to close off the bond so he could help Scavenger, but he had never closed it off before. He didn't know how to shut off his link to the gestalt, but he had to try!

Step by laborious step, Bonecrusher forced himself forward to try to get to Scavenger and save him. He knew he didn't have much time, so with one final push he slammed the link shut and ran for his brother.

When Bonecrusher made it to the destination he saw that where Scavenger had been there was nothing more than a small pool of energon. Dark impure energon. Yep, that was Scavenger's alright. The Decepticons were so malnourished that their energon turned a darker shade of purple than most other Cybertronians.

"No..." Bonecrusher whispered into the windless air, and then he turned on his comm, /Bonecrusher to all remaining Constructicons. Scavenger has been murdered, and whoever did it stole his body. Keep on the lookout. Every Decepticon on this blasted rock is a suspect./

/Understood,/ Hook replied, a dangerous edge to his tone, /Scavenger is lost, and with him Devastator. If it takes the rest of our lives, we will have revenge./

Back on the Quintesson ship, Rubberneck stood proudly with his latest catch; the body of Scavenger. The Quintessons seemed less impressed by the mech's feat.

"Why didn't you use the tracers we told you to use?" One of the wrath faces demanded to know.

"I thought this would be faster," Rubberneck defended himself, "You said I only have 5 orns. Well, anything that saves time helps you make my new spark faster. I was just trying to help."

"You have diverted from our course!" The judgement face screamed at him, "I find you a guilty and irredeemable mech!"

"No! Please, don't be angry!" Rubberneck pleaded, "See? I can still install the chip even though he's here! See? Good as new, right?"

"Wrong!" The wrath face roared before turning to the death face, "We ordered you to bring us a combiner!"

"He is!" Rubberneck shouted, "He forms part of a combiner!"

"We want a whole combiner!" The war face berated, "The tracer keeps the body from losing autonomic function, but you didn't place it on the processor in time!" The wisdom face then appeared, "If we are to market a new profitable form of servant class soldier robots, we must understand combiner technology. We must have a whole combiner, and now Devastator is useless to us." The death face turned to him, "You will give us more bodies, with the tracking chips intact, so that we may have our combiner."

"I'm sorry I didn't do as you ordered," Rubberneck softly muttered, feeling browbeaten by the Quintesson in charge, "Chaar is just so hot. I felt like I was melting even as I drained low grade energon from a dying mech. Please, can't I have my spark first, then bring you a combiner?"

"No!" The death face bellowed, "Do as you're told or your sentence will be a second death!" The wisdom face then rotated to face him, "However, I understand how trying to obtain a gestalt here would be...difficult. Cybertron is a bigger and busier planet, so obtaining a combiner from there would be most inconvenient. If you are up to the task however, we will grant you another chance to prove yourself to us."

"Thank you, sir," Rubberneck bowed as he replied, "I won't let you down again. I promise. May I go to my room now?"

"You may," The wisdom face replied, "Recharge thoroughly. I do not want to see you return to this ship again without five gestalt bodies."

"Understood, sir," Rubberneck nodded.

With that Rubberneck left the bridge and returned to his quarters, which was little more than a small grungy space with a recharge berth.

As he sat there intaking air, Rubberneck felt like he had a bad taste in his mouth from kissing those Quintessons' nonexistent tail pipes. He was tired of this. It seemed like he should have done enough for them already. Why was the spark recreation taking so long? Were they even going to keep their word to him? Why even bother giving him a temporary processor if they weren't?

The worst part was that his last kill had been for nothing. While Rubberneck didn't know Scavenger, and didn't really know anything about the Decepticons, he felt sick about targeting him for nothing. The only comfort he could give himself was that Scavenger was likely miserable on that horrible planet. Still, he wished he could take it back and just let the poor guy go.

That brought up another question. Where was he going to find a combiner on Cybertron? He pulled out a pocket computer console from his subspace to research how many gestalts remained.

His findings were pretty weak. Most combiners had been made by Decepticons, and they were on Chaar. There were the Constructicons (sort of), the Combaticons, The Stunticons, The Predacons, and a new experimental team called the Terrorcons. He found a group called the Protectobots, but they were on earth. When he typed in gestalts on Cybertron specifically, what he found was something he probably should have thought of before.

There were only two combiner teams on Cybertron. One was called the Technobots, geniuses that formed the closest thing to an intellect a combined Transformer had ever possessed: Computron. The second was...the Aerialbots.

"Of course," Rubberneck whispered to himself, "Fireflight is a combiner. How did I forget that so quickly? He always talks about his brothers. I can't kill him though. He's a good mech, and he's younger than me. He's my friend...my only friend. Okay, so there's only one option. I need to give the Quintessons Computron. If I fail, I die. If I fail, Fishtail never gets to come back to life with me. I just hope Fireflight doesn't work too closely with these guys. I don't want him to be sad."