Hello Dear Readers! This is a shorter chapter but I wanted to get something out to you. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 52

The mech was exhausted yet had barely moved in Primus knows how long. His struts felt weak from atrophy and his processor held a constant buzz from the programs forced on him. His HUD had been stripped bare, not even telling him his fuel status, though it wasn't necessary for him to know that he desperately needed some. Shockwave only gave him enough so that he could function.

The binds also seemed unnecessary at that point. As much as Octane wanted to escape, he was too worn down. Most times he went into recharge it was a forced reboot due to the pain. All Shockwave had done was disabled his vocalizer before forcing his chassis open and tinkering with his spark.

Octane usually kept his optics offline, trying to focus on his memories rather than whatever Soundwave was doing to him. It was better that way. It could have been orns or vorns passing and Octane wouldn't know the difference.

One Cycle, Vortex showed up. He was strapped down like Octane but didn't seem to mind. An energon drip was attached to his hull. Lucky slagger. Shockwave worked on him for a while, giving Octane a moment of peace- even with Vortex's constant ramblings.

The mech had some kind of malfunction relating to his fuel consumption. Octane remembered fearing starvation should the glitch go as far as to steal all their reserves. Dead End had practically given up hope of ever making planetfall. Octane even pulled out of recharge to find Vortex fawning over his frame, muttering something about the 'precious energon in his lines'. Anyone would want to escape after enduring that.

All too soon, Shockwave moved away from his newest subject after undoing his cuffs.

What the frag? He was the one who downed the ship while trying to guzzle the fuel! How was that any different from what he did? Vortex took resources just like he tried to. And letting the prisoner go as a distraction shouldn't have meant anything. Thundercracker could have stopped him but that weak-willed mech obviously felt sympathy for the little one.

Vortex got up; his optics were still as crazed as ever but he lacked the jerky movements he'd been suffering from during their transport. "All fixed up?" he asked the one-optic mech.

Shockwave nodded. "Your condition is stabilized, though the cravings may continue. It will be subdued. Abide by your ration and you won't be scrapped." He said in his usual monotone voice.

Vortex grinned wildly. "Thanks, boss!" he said before leaving the lab.

Octane wanted to scream. He glared at Shockwave with as much fury as he could muster. When the mech faced him again, emotionless as ever, he paid no mind to the shuttle's expression. Instead, his servos dived straight back into Octane's open spark chamber.

The pain was excruciating, but luckily, he didn't have enough energy to suffer through it long. Nothingness took over as he was forced into reboot yet again.

An unknown period later, Octane was pulled from fitful recharge by the angry ramblings of a red mech. He looked vaguely familiar but not enough to recognize. The mech spoke in an odd combination of Earth languages, only one of which he recognized.

"I am not here to be an experiment, sei sciocco. My tech is not for you to study."

"It is logical for a scientist to understand the technology of the mechs he must repair after a battle. Now remain still." As expected, Shockwave was uninterested in whatever his subjects said. Stupid logic programming.

"Starscream said nothing of this!"

"Starscream's decisions are irrelevant to mine. Now obey or you will be forced into reboot."

"One-eyed oaf. Esimonon è un modo per trattare un mech di casta alta!"

Octane wished his audio receptors would malfunction so he didn't have to listen to the endless stream of complaints. A part of him was interested in whatever was going on among the Decepticon ranks but he quickly quashed it down. The only way to endure his new reality was to become numb to everything around him. Becoming curious and engaged would only lead to fantasies of escape.

When he next awoke, everything felt wrong. All his thoughts were doubled and he felt as if he had to fight for control over everything. When he tried to open his optics, another was trying to do the same. For some reason neither could influence the other there.

In his spark he felt his emotions bouncing forward and back, worry, anger, and confusion jumbled together and every time it washed over to one side it came back stronger. The other finally made a sound, one that seemed to pass through his spark. "The frag? What is this?"

Following the mental pathway used, he shot back, "Who are you?"

The other sent back waves of frustration. "I'm Octane! Who the frag are you and why are you in my processor?"

Octane's thoughts stilled in shock. A constant near-crazed stream of consciousness seemed to flow between the two. 'I'm Octane. Who is he? Is he lying? Why do I feel him like this? What happened to me? Us?' Fear boiled within his spark- their sparks? It was wrong, all wrong!

The pair heard voices. Still unable to figure out his- their- optics, they sent thoughts to the other to be silent while they listened.

"Well, have you made any progress," Starscream's unmistakable shrieking voice asked, deepening to a near growl to add, "Shockwave?"

Said mech answered somewhere closer to the pair. "There has been a breakthrough with my research using Octane's spark. Observe."

They heard a scoff and a pause.

"Two lights?" a third mech asked. Octane recognized him well. Thundercracker.

Shockwave replied, "A successful split. Octane is now a pair of artificial twins."

Octane and… Octane felt along their connection with a renewed sense of panic and wonder. Memories flashed between them, their own memories. Every experience and emotion mirrored up until the moment when they came to moments ago.

"Excellent work, Shockwave!" came the immediate reply. "Aren't you lucky to be serving under me? Otherwise, you wouldn't have the resources to achieve this marvel of science." One of the Octanes- they weren't sure which- flashed a memory of Starscream practicing poses to his reflection, all displaying arrogant confidence.

His preening was apparently ignored as Shockwave continued. "The next stage is to separate the sparks into different frames. We will need a donor."

"Hmm," Starscream said, obviously needing to be the most heard. "Dead End is the least useful, he will do."

"Wait!" Thundercracker interrupted. "We can't do that to him."

Ever the emotional one, Octane commented to themselves.

"I mean…" he continued, "On this planet, grounders blend in better. And he doesn't take up nearly as much energon as the others."

"Then who would you recommend, Thundercracker?" Starscream asked in an annoyed tone.

He was met with silence.

"As I thought." The leader continued.

"Thundercracker's view is logical." Soundwave interrupted. "We have few frames to spare as there is no guarantee they will survive the separation procedure. Also, should they decide not to cooperate with the Decepticons again, the pair will be nothing more than lab experiments. I shall try to reformat Octane's current frame into two."

Starscream nearly whined back, "And how long will that take?"

"As long as necessary." Came the reply.

"Fine," Starscream stated. "I will allow you to follow this plan. As for their loyalty," he added, suddenly speaking directly over Octanes' audio receptors, "I'm sure they would have seen the error of their ways by now. If not, I'll make sure of it." Suddenly further away he added in an authoritative voice, "Report back to me should anything change."

Octane heard no response, only the fading sounds of pedesteps. Then, they felt an external source forcing a reboot.

The twins wanted to head straight back to their berth room, but Erin said she needed to stop by Prime's office. As expected, they walked her there. It was late but she knew the Autobot leader would still be working. He never seemed to recharge.

When she got to the door, she was about to knock when Prime's voice came from the other side, "Come in." The twins must have sent a message on the way.

Sunstreaker opened the Cybertronian size door for her.

"Ms. Brook," Prime greeted as she stepped through the door "this is good timing. I was hoping to speak with you- privately." He nodded to the twins, "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, you two may retire for the night. I will escort Ms. Brook back when we are finished."

Erin expected the twins to argue but Sunstreaker only narrowed his optics. Sideswipe looked to Erin. "See you in a few breems, ok?" He did nothing to hide a disappointed look from overtaking his features.

Erin gave him a reassuring smile; glad they weren't questioning anything. The pair trusted their Prime as least. Sunstreaker gave her a quick glance before closing the door. Once their pedesteps were far enough away, Erin turned back. She knew she looked peeved and hoped Prime would be able to tell. The mech was interrupting her quality time with the twins. All she wanted to do was dropped off his damned special projector.

"Please, Ms. Brook." Optimus gestured to the top of his desk. She followed his lead and ascended the nearby steps to meet him, not that she was happy about it.

"Call me Erin." She said shortly, "I don't really care about the last name." It didn't belong to her anyway. The real Erin Brook was one of the poor individuals who died during her first encounter with a Cybertronian. She was fine with just Erin.

The mech nodded, polite as ever.

Prime's office always had small changes to it whenever Erin came in. Some days the human-sized chairs were present, others they were put away somewhere. Ein could always tell if Prowl had been the last mech in because the two Cybertronian-sized seats at the front of Prime's desk would be angled so that they mirrored each other perfectly. Other mechs wouldn't be so anal. The biggest difference was in décor. Prime always had a few art pieces on his desk. They were human-made, so he easily fit three at a time without blocking too much of his workspace. Sometimes he had sculptures of various animals; a stalking jaguar, a reef with fish, or a mountain goat. He also had paintings displayed on an easel. Those were mostly earth landscapes, such as fields of flowers or snow-topped mountains, though there was the occasional extract artwork. One that was always present was a small picture frame holding what was obviously a child's drawing. It vaguely appeared to be a blond human girl holding hands with Prime and Ironhide. In large crayon it was signed, Annabelle.

There was a new piece in the rotation. It was a hologram, giving everyone a clear view of the picture from most angles. At first, Erin thought it was an image capture of a femme, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was a painting. The style was very familiar.

"Did Sunstreaker make this?" she asked.

"Yes," the mech replied with a far-off look, "the original was lost but I kept the file of it."

The femme on the painting looked almost ethereal. The pink of her armor reminded Erin of seashells. Her optics were a deep turquoise, instead of traditional Autobot blue. If she remembered right, green hues were symbols of Cybertronian wealth. Around her were crystals- some larger than the femme- jutting from the metallic ground. They were deep purples and blues in color, much darker than her own armor. A glow cast off each crystal and the light climbed around the femme's frame.

Sunstreaker must have known the femme well, to paint her in such a way. She couldn't have been his carrier, since Erin knew she had yellow optics and their family was not well-off. "Who was she?" Erin asked, half thinking out loud.

There may have been some jealousy in her voice because Optimus Prime gave her a long look before his optics crinkled with a smile. "Elita-One; she was my mate."

"Oh." Was all Erin could say.

"She was the first- and one of the only- to truly welcome the twins as Autobots. I believe the painting was Sunstreaker's way of showing appreciation."

"She was lovely." The greed Erin felt over the yellow mech burned a bit less. The femme was just a friend. Not that Erin had any right to be jealous in the first place. She had other partners before the twins… But she never crafted a masterpiece for them. She had drawn Sunstreaker, though. To her knowledge, the mech hadn't done the same with her image.

"Yes, she was." Prime replied, only partly present in the conversation as he drank in the hologram.

Erin, clutching the projector, held it out for him. "Ironhide told me she gave this to you. Why would you let me use it?" she had intended to keep the accusing sound out of her voice but failed in the end.

Optimus accepted the projector in his large servo and looked at it fondly. "I believe Elita-One would have allowed you to use it. So, I acted accordingly." He added with a hint of amusement, "She had a fondness for troublemakers."

Well, all of Erin's confusion and suspicion drained almost immediately and was replaced by a sense of guilt. Perhaps the mech didn't hate her as much as she suspected.

Deciding not to push into the Autobot's baggage, she refocused. "And what did you need from me?"

He nodded, allowing the change in subject. "Take out your datapad, I just sent some messages to you. Please read over them, aloud, to confirm the translation." He ordered.

The code Division used was frequently adapted, and Prime knew that. Erin reading it aloud would confirm she was telling the truth and the cipher was up to date. Smart. Except when Erin read what was before her, she sighed in frustration. "From Simon- Formerly known as 24- What the fuck did you think would happen? You lead all these fuckers to a fucking revolution and leave them with their dicks out." She glanced up to Prime who was stone-faced as usual. "They need direction or there will be some fucking chaos." Erin paused to let out a sigh. Sure, she deserved the harsh words, but it wasn't fun to recount it to the regal Autobot leader. To Optimus, she said, "He has a good point. There are dozens of trained killers on the street now that Division's American network has been disarranged. If they are still willing to listen to me, we might be able to use them to our advantage."

He considered her for a moment. Whether he felt suspicious or not, Erin couldn't tell. "How so?" he asked.

"All they care about is surviving to the next job." She explained, "They were just done with Division's way of doing it when I convinced them to fight back. When Division's locations were taken down, some of my closest allies collected various resources and stored them away. Food and supplies mostly, but 24, or Simon, drained a large portion of Division's offshore accounts and invested in their competing companies before we… messed with their stocks." Erin had left out the fact that the major explosions and casualties in some Middle Eastern oil fields weeks prior were planned by her allies. The Prime would not have approved. "I'm certain I could barter them for some jobs. Some volunteered beforehand to monitor Division's recovery from the attack, but we could use more intel. For the right price, they'd even take on the 'cons."

Her explanation didn't seem satisfactory to the mech. "You want me to contract assassins for our war?"

"Why not?" she shrugged. "They can get the job done. If we don't offer them something, they'll just go to the next bidder. And Simon makes a good point. Having them running around unmonitored could be dangerous to the public." Besides, she added internally, he's fine with child soldiers like Bluestreak but not grown-ass (mostly) assassins?

"Do you believe you have enough resources to entice their services?" He ventured, still sounding uncertain.

"Yes." She said with complete certainty. The few million Simon had piled away wouldn't last more than a couple years in a bidding war, but they could get plenty done in the meantime. "Not to mention Silas is still unaccounted for. Former Division agents would have a better time hunting him down than the American or British military."

Prime paused, seeming to consider the proposal. "I will discuss this matter with Jazz and Prowl. But I don't like getting involved in human matters behind the backs of NEST."

"Fair enough." Erin replied. Of course, he was already working behind NEST with their partnership/ Erin being a silent captive. "On to the next one. From 14-" Erin cringed a bit, praying the crazy woman kept things appropriate, "hey cutie, I'm…" the woman stopped to massage her temples, praying to be anywhere but there- "horny and ready to fuck." She said in the driest tone she could manage. "When are you going to get here? By the way, the Decepticons want to kidnap your boy toys." Erin's embarrassment was lost as she reread the last line to herself. She felt as if her blood had turned to sludge. Taking a steadying breath, she continued, "They're gonna set a trap at the old base in Virginia in three days." Erin looked up to the Autobot. "When was this sent?"

"Earlier today." He replied with the most irritating calmness. "Finish reading and we will discuss."

She had half a mind to cuss him out but chose to speed through the rest of the translation. "I'll be there too! Can't wait to see ya. And as a gift to show I care, here's a little report from all the sleuthing I've done at the base. Starscream, their leader, is delusional of his authority. The robots are only following him out of necessity. Dead End is the smallest robot here. He's a hilarious nervous wreck! If he doesn't turn tail and run you might be able to convince him to join your side. Thundercracker is smarter but doesn't seem to like how Starscream runs things. He's also kind of cute! Good luck babe."

Erin turned off her datapad, not caring about the humiliation 14 put her through in reading that. The twins were being threatened.

"Thundercracker having second thoughts about the Decepticons is valuable information." Prime stated. "I have been hoping this for a while, in fact."

"What?" Erin turned on the Prime, furious. "Did you ignore the part where they're after the twins? Tell me you aren't going to send them out there!"

The mech gave her a long, measured look. "We are already low on forces-"

"Then I'm going with them." She stated. She'd even explore the shit with Thundercracker if she had time after protecting the twins.

"Not while you have the Allspark." Optimus said authoritatively as if the matter was suddenly settled.

"Jazz is fit again." She argued, not willing to give any ground. "Let him go in their place. And remember, our deal only stands as long as the twins are safe."

Prime seemed to consider her threat. She knew that if he lost her cooperation, his eyes inside the Decepticon base wouldn't last long, especially since 14 knew Erin so well. She had the advantage. And if the Autobots kept her solely confined to the brig, NEST would get suspicious. The truth about the Allspark could come out.

"Very well." Prime said. "For the time being, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will be relegated to the base. Though I will reevaluate the matter again. Besides, if Thundercracker is considering turning traitor, the twins would be a poor choice to meet him now."

"Why?" Erin asked, having calmed since her demands were met.

"I don't know the details," Prime explained, "but they have some kind of history."

Of course, Prime didn't trust the twins. Erin wanted to ask more but decide against it. "We should write our responses." She said instead, grit and frustration still clear in her tone.

Prime dictated what he wanted to be said, allowing Erin control over the cipher, as long as she told him the hints she added for coding adjustments. With a few more iterations, the remnants of Division wouldn't understand the new language she formed with her own allies.

True to his word, Optimus walked her back to the twins' berth room after they were finished. He never wanted her out of a mech's sight, even for a moment. That cut out the option of taking a shower. Her hair still smelled of ocean water. At least he let her slip through the door alone.

Though it was late and she'd been away well over an hour, the twins had left the light on for her. But it was also immediately clear they were in recharge. She couldn't blame the pair; her collaboration with Optimus lasted well over an hour and it was already late. That didn't stop the trickle of disappointment at a missed opportunity. The trio had a lovely night and plenty to bond over. She hoped they could finish it with a bit more fun. But alas, she didn't want to wake them.

Erin also noticed the room had been rearranged a bit. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's berths were pushed together, a smart decision considering they'd been squeezing onto Sunstreaker's lately. The tall metal table that once stood between the berths was on the side by where Sideswipe was laying. Erin's meager belongings still occupied the bottom shelf. At the foot of the combined berth was a step ladder. It was almost certainly stolen but Erin appreciated it nonetheless. She shut off the lights and used the soft glow of her datapad to illuminate the way to the steps.

When Erin climbed up, she saw the twins sprawled out, each with a datapad in servo. It seemed they had been trying to occupy themselves while waiting for her. Between the pair was not only the blanket she had come to call her bed but a swath of various beddings and pillows had been added. A fitted sheet was at the bottom, curving upwards to contain the miscellaneous sheets within weak walls. Six pillows lined the top of the bedding. Some appeared to be standard regulation, but three were larger and each a different shade of white. One was obviously a decorative pillow with green trim and all.

A few individuals were most likely missing the blankets and pillows, but that was a problem for later. Erin crawled into what looked more like a nest than a bed at that point and scooted until her back was flush to Sunstreaker's arm.

Despite the lackluster ending, it was still a wonderful date, Erin reflected. She would be looking forward to the next one. With that thought, she was able to drift off.

Translations:

sei sciocco- you fool

Esimonon è un modo per trattare un mech di casta alta- This is no way to treat a high caste mech