Author's Notes: I'm going to admit, this chapter wasn't in my original outline. The inspiration came quite suddenly for this chapter, but now I don't know how the story could have done without it. I hope you guys didn't have to wait too long for me to update this time. I know I haven't been writing as much as usual, but I'm still alive and still grateful to those who read my stories :)


Chapter 16

In a Flash

A Few Hundred Vorns Ago…

She awoke from the surgery to see the warm bright lights above her. She still felt a little dreamy from the codes they used to knock her out. She only hoped the surgery was a success, not only for herself but also for her sparkmate.

The energon crisis had reached a peak. Many Autobots and Decepticons had either died or else moved away from Cybertron to search for more fuel. Unlike the war however, the planet didn't die this time. It just went to new occupants. One side was the Maximals, the faction that had been lovingly cultivated by the Autobots and trained to live by benevolent and egalitarian laws. On the other side were the Predacons, enemies designed by the Decepticons to continue the war, but who had instead come to a tentative peace with the ruling Maximal class in exchange for their own territory (away from them).

This femme and her bondmate had traveled through space for a long time in search of fuel, and they were tired of running away. They missed Cybertron. They wanted to come home, and had decided together that there was only one way to do it. On their 50th vorn bonding anniversary, he surprised her with a gift card to a renowned plate surgeon in Iacon. They were going to stop running. They were going to live new lives. In short, they were going to integrate.

"How are you feeling, precious?" She heard the unmistakable sound of her bondmate's voice, "I hope there isn't any residual stiffness or pain."

"Nah, I'm fine. You?" She asked him.

"See for yourself."

He walked over, and to her surprise he looked kind of…round. And scaly.

"What the frag are you supposed to be?" She asked him, smirking all the while.

"Since we met in the Sol system, I thought I would choose an animal from earth," He explained, "This is a species of turtle called a red-eared slider."

"Sounds like an item off the McDonald's menu," She joked, "Eh, you look cute either way. I actually picked an earth animal too. Can you guess what it is?"

"Um…I'm going to say…A hedgehog?"

"Close. I'm a porcupine," She said with a beaming smile, "I wasn't sure I'd find somethin' spiky enough, but here it is! I'm back, baby! I'm ready to- Oof!"

She then realized as she tried to get up that her spines had trapped her on the fabric-coated berth. She was stuck!

"Help! Fraggit, you butchers! Get your afts in here and get me out!"

A cheetah-former nurse ran inside immediately and saw that the turtle-former was trying in vain to get the porcupine-former off the berth. He pulled with all his might, but it just wasn't working.

"Hang on, I'll get some oil to loosen your quills," The nurse advised, "Just a klik!"

The femme growled under her breath and crossed her arms over her chassis. That was when the mech noticed something.

"Um, precious? I think they screwed up."

"What do you mean? I got scars or somethin'?"

"No. You have six pack abs in your robot mode. That's a selection usually chosen by mechs."

"The femme version was bulky. Besides, why would I want milk jugs comin' outta my chassis? I ain't gonna lactate."

"Fair enough. Hey, watch this!"

The mech then went over to the wall, and started banging his shell against the wall.

Clang…clang…clang…

"When I do this, it sounds just like the steels drums on Cletus III."

"Cool!" She exclaimed jubilantly, "Mech, I shoulda picked a turtle. Cool shell, cool beak, and cooler colors. I couldn't help it though. I love spikes! They just make me feel more like me."

"But those are quills."

"Yeah, well, I know that now," She harrumphed, "I hope I learn how to lay down in this fraggin' body soon, or recharge is gonna be a nightmare."

"Don't worry. We just won't buy cloth furniture when we move to Altihex next week," Her bondmate assured her, "By the way, Nightscream comm'ed me and asked if he could stay another night at Spectrum's house."

"Why not? These younglings today have no concept of time," She shrugged, "An orn is like 14 or 15 of earth's days. I don't get why everyone switched to the human system so quickly."

"It makes timekeeping more precise," He answered, "Though frankly I just think it's a way to micromanage every aspect of our lives. It feels like nobody knows how to slow down and take it easy anymore."

"No fraggin' kiddin'," She snorted.

The nurse came in at that moment and started rubbing oil into the quills to help the poor femme get off the berth. She managed to get up after a few seconds, and her turtle-mate held her hands and helped her walk on her own. She could see his face was full of love, but after a moment he looked a little melancholy.

"What is it, super struts?" She asked.

"You're still taller than me," He lamented.

She broke out in raucous laughter, and after a moment he couldn't help but laugh too. The nurse, trying to look cheerful but impatience peeking through, approached with a data pad.

"Excuse me, but before I can discharge you two there's a couple questions you need to answer," The nurse informed them.

"We have no outstandin' warrants or parkin' tickets," The femme quipped.

"Though I did crash into a building three vorns ago," The mech added cheekily.

"No, no, nothing like that," The nurse replied, "Since you've taken on new beast forms you're going to need new public records. First of all we need to register your new names."

"New names?" The mech asked, "Oh right! Like what happened with Goldbug."

"New names, new lives…I feel just like a Prime," His mate grinned playfully.

"So, what should I log your new names as for our records?" The nurse asked again.

"Well…I think…" The mech pondered for a moment, and then said, "I think I like the name Carapace. What do you think, precious?"

"Carapace? I like it. It's funny and nerdy, just like you," She replied as she hugged his neck.

"Alright, Carapace…and you, ma'am?" The nurse inquired.

"Hm, I dunno," The femme shrugged, "What would match your name?"

"You don't have to match my name," He assured her, "I just picked Carapace because I have a shell. You don't have a shell. You have quills."

"Say, that's not bad," She replied approvingly, "Quillbit. Yeah, it sounds like drill bit, and it has the letters QB, so I can keep all my monogrammed tools."

"You could keep them anyway," Her mate reminded her.

"Too late! It's Quillbit," She said with finality, "Besides, I've always wanted a girly soundin' name."

"You could've gone with Rainbow Dash," Carapace teased.

"Funny," Quillbit said in a way that indicated it was not.

"Alright…Quillbit…" The nurse jotted it down on the data pad, "Now, we need to see if you two can transform before you leave."

Both of them tried to transform at the same time, but neither one of them were successful. They shared horrified looks as they realized they were trapped in robot mode.

"Oh no…we're stuck!" Carapace shouted.

"Fraggit all!" Quillbit cursed.

"Now wait, you two aren't stuck!" The nurse assured them, "I forget that older models have trouble adapting to new technology. You see, you two are in transformation lock mode. This is to ensure that you don't transform unless you really want to. Accidental transformation was a common issue with early beast modes. In order to unlock and transform all you have to do is say your designation followed by your faction's unlock code. For Maximals it's "Maximize" and for Predacons it's "Terrorize". Understand?"

"Factions?" Quillbit asked distatefully, "But we're neutrals! We ain't got no stake in this!"

"Well, we kind of do now," Carapace gently corrected her, "If we're going to repatriate ourselves as citizens of Cybertron, then I guess what faction we choose would determine where we can live."

"We can take care of that here as well," The nurse explained, "In order to choose a faction, you just use their code the first time you transform."

"Well we're definitely going with Maximal," Carapace said resolutely.

"Why Maximal?" Quillbit asked.

"Because the Predacons are products of the Decepticons. I just…I don't want to think about everything those monsters did to us…not just to our world, but to us. To you and me. The Maximals aren't perfect, but at least they don't actively try to hurt those around them."

"Hey, don't worry about it, okay? If you're a Maximal I'm a Maximal. No matter what, we're a team," Quillbit vowed.

She stroked his shoulders with her new slender servos. Carapace had to be careful where he touched her thanks to the quills, but he found a bare spot near her elbow and squeezed. She went in to kiss him, and his stubby hands found their way to her hips. Before they could lose themselves however, the nurse cleared her throat and brought them back to reality.

"You still need to transform before I can release you," The nurse reiterated, "You know other Cybertronians need to use these berths. Now, to transform into your beast modes you just say "Beast Mode"

"Yes, madam," Carapace replied humbly, "Beast Mode!"

Carapace's body then folded over and twisted until the transformation process was completed; leaving behind a small round reptile.

"Aww, you're so adorable!" Quillbit exclaimed excitedly, "You look like a baby dinosaur hatchin' out of an egg!"

"How did everybody get so big?" Carapace asked in confusion.

"Hey, you ain't the one that lost fifteen feet of height overnight," Quillbit reminded him.

"Okay Quillbit, it's your turn," The nurse rushed her.

"Fine, fine, whatever you say, Spots," Quillbit scoffed, "Beast Mode!"

Quillbit then likewise folded and shrunk until she was a spiky porcupine waddling about on the ground.

"Hey cool, I can look you in the optics like this," Quillbit observed.

"Your beast form is so cool," Carapace whispered in awe, "I love how you look like a living thorn bush on the attack, and yet you also have this cute innocent quality."

"Yeah, though I probably still should've been a turtle like you," Quillbit countered, "I could've been a volcanic turtle like the ones on Melbourne VII. I don't know why you picked a slider. Those are such wussy turtles."

"They are not!" Carapace defended his new species' honor, "They are very smart and social creatures."

"Yeah, well who needs to be smart when you got all this?" Quillbit exclaimed as she shook her quills like a raver.

"Yes, yes, that's very nice. Now will you two please get out of here?" The nurse asked, no longer attempting a friendly facade, "The doctor has other patients today."

"Yeah, yeah, we're goin'," Quillbit groused as she waddled away in beast mode.

"Hold on! I think I need my robot mode if I'm going to get anywhere," Carapace pointed out as he slowly inched closer, "Um…how do I turn back again?"

"You say your faction's password after your name," The nurse sighed.

"Oh, alright. Carapace: Maximize!"

Carapace then turned back to normal, and he picked up Quillbit despite her prickly spines. She laughed at his goofy antics and made no move to escape.

"It is a little odd you chose a turtle-former though," The nurse said offhandedly as he left.

"Huh? Why is that?" Carapace asked curiously.

"Because most Maximals choose creatures that can regulate their body temperature. Most reptiles are Predacons."

"Uh…oops," Carapace replied sheepishly, "Um, we're not from around here."

"I noticed," The nurse replied drolly, "Anyway, hope you two lovebirds have a good life."

"We coulda been lovebirds?" Quillbit shouted, aghast, "Fraggit! We shoulda discussed this before we came here!"


As Quillbit's spark floated in space she warmed herself with that memory like it was a blanket made from distant stars. Their 50th anniversary had been the start of a strange new chapter of their lives. A porcupine and a turtle, even on Cybertron, were seen as a strange couple. It was weird that he was always the one under suspicion, given that she was the one that was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. It seemed like so many memories, both good and bad, took place in medbays…


Carapace and Quillbit sat in Santon's office, the large elephant-former taking up most of the space in the small room. Thankfully this was just a consultation. Quillbit didn't quite trust that guy's massive servos in surgery.

"And how long has this been going on?" Santon inquired.

"Nearly 200 vorns," Carapace explained as he held his broken right arm in his healthy left, "Almost as long as we've been bonded."

"They're just war flashbacks, okay?" Quillbit snapped defensively, "It ain't my fault I'm bonkers! Look, just give me whatever pills or codes or defrags I need so Carapace can recharge at night!"

"It isn't just flashbacks though, is it?" Santon asked probingly, "I have looked over your processor map, and I see several key frames of coding that are very rare and possibly even unique to your physiology."

"They ain't rare, they're just old," Quillbit argued, "I'm an upgrader. Carapace and I used to be vehicle-formers, so of course we're still gonna have some of that code in there."

"I see," Santon hummed, rubbing a tusk in thought, "Can you explain this redundant code here and…here?"

"Don't ask me. You're the medic," Quillbit snarked.

"I think I know what those are," Carapace interjected, "The coding is looped because it's empty. These areas are all former spark bonds that Quillbit held. Every one of them is dead now, or else severed. Nightscream and I are her only remaining bonds."

"I see. Yes, that would cause severe emotional distress," Santon noted, "However, there are two codes that appear to lead nowhere except to each other. When I try to access any information all I get is a message saying incomplete file. Do you know what this is?"

"Bonds I never formed," Quillbit shrugged, "Yeah, uh, apparently I'm supposed to form those bonds or else be doomed to depression or whatever. I don't see why that matters though. That code only exists for my former frame. I've been a beast for over 150 vorns."

"Um, forgive me Quillbit, but could you translate that into years so I can write it down in my data pad?" Santon asked apologetically.

"Seriously? Do I look like some kinda math wizard?" Quillbit asked sourly.

"That's okay, dearest," Carapace assured her, "12,600 years, give or take a couple decades."

"I see…" Santon wrote something else down before saying, "It's clear to me that these hallucinations and fits of rage are a result of feedback loops resulting from bond coding that is no longer necessary. Unfortunately there isn't really much I can do. I can't remove coding that doesn't exist, and as for the broken bonds, well…most Cybertronians consider it intrusive to erase the bonds of their deceased loved ones. After all, they were an important part of your life."

"I don't care. Get rid of 'em," Quillbit ordered, "Carapace and Nightscream are in danger. I'm a monster, and I can't be killed. If you don't do somethin' I'm gonna end up killin' somebody. What good is a bond to a dead person? Rip 'em out!"

"But Quillbit, we don't know what that might do to your processor," Santon warned her, "You could be a mere shell of your former self, or the hallucinations could increase. There is no guarantee that this procedure will pacify your fits of rage."

"Do you have any other ideas then?" Quillbit asked.

"Well…no, I don't," Santon admitted.

"Then you're doin' it," Quillbit said with finality, "Whatever it takes to protect my family, we're doin' it. Got that?"

"If this is really what you want, but I'm not certain this is wise," Santon sighed in defeat.

"Good. Now, tell me which surgeons are available," Quillbit insisted, "After all, I'm a delicate little flower. You wouldn't want those big meaty paws to mess somethin' up in there and get you a malpractice suit, right?"

Santon merely shook his helm before pulling up a list. Carapace was quiet during the entire process, and when they finally left the office he seemed glum as they walked home. Quillbit couldn't help but notice.

"Hey super struts, what's wrong?" Quillbit asked as she rested an arm on his shoulders.

"I wish you had consulted me, dearest," Carapace admitted, "If something goes wrong you could be in serious trouble. I don't want to lose the femme I married to some ill-fated brain surgery."

"You ain't gonna lose me. He's just too lazy to do his job," Quillbit assured him, "You know what it's been like. I feel ghost pains from the bond every few months. I see things that ain't there and sometimes you get hurt. Last time I almost hit Nightscream. My own son, and I almost hit him! I can't keep doin' this, Carapace. I can't live this way anymore!"

Quillbit sighed and removed her hand from her mate's shoulders. The night was getting cold, and she huddled into herself and shivered. Carapace slowed down a little, and Quillbit thought he was just cold. After a moment though, she saw that he was looking up at the stars.

"Remember when we were young?" Carapace suddenly asked, "The universe seemed so endless back then. I miss being able to fly. When I would travel through space I felt so small, and yet so big…like I was part of the universe, and I was seeing the planets and stars the way they were meant to be seen. I miss the swirl of gas giants, the glistening lights of newly developed cities, and the raging flaming mass of a turbulent star."

"Yeah, space is awesome," Quillbit agreed, "But you know what the weird part is? I actually still think atmospheric flyin' is a load of slag. I crashed so many times! If Starscream and Skywarp were the best fliers, then I would put my old skill set somewhere around…Snarl."

"But Snarl couldn't fly. He was a stegosaurus," Carapace pointed out.

"Exactly," Quillbit retorted, "I wouldn't trade it though. None of it. I know I cause you a lotta grief, but you and Nightscream are the best things that have ever happened to me. I'm willin' to give up the sky, the stars, and half of my processor if it means we get to be this way forever, happy and together."

Quillbit then hugged Carapace, and he nuzzled into her faceplate. He knew how to avoid the spines by now, and even when one accidentally punctured him he would accept that as part of the deal. Sometimes love could hurt, and they both knew their bond was the result of two very forgiving Cybertronians.


Quillbit's spark floated aimlessly, getting further away from the ship. By now Ravage and Syphon would be tearing the place apart looking for her. She didn't care though. She'd come back if and when she was good and ready. She knew she didn't have long however. The ship was flying away at a faster pace than a mere spark could keep up. If she was going to return, she would have to do it now.

Did she want to return though? Did she really need her body so badly? She had space, she had the stars, and she had half of her processor. That was all she had now, and it was all her fault. The bomb had finally gone off, and one could not un-ignite an explosive…


Quillbit stood under an awning waiting for the acid rain to stop. A few careless individuals had left a wooden crate in front of a shop, and now it was burning in the rain. Quillbit watched it with detached interest. She needed to rest after walking so far. Altihex was five days away from Kaon on foot, but she needed to be here. It was the only place left she could go.

It took a couple joors for the rain to stop, and once it did beast-formers of all kinds came out of their homes to begin their days. Most of the passersby on the street were Predacons. Quillbit hadn't interacted with a Predacon in a long time. She and Carapace lived in Altihex, which was Maximal territory. Well, they did. She only hoped that Nightscream never found out about this. She had resented him for running away from home all those years ago, but now she couldn't help but think he was better off. She wondered where that mechling inherited his brains.

As Quillbit trudged down the street she dragged along her evidence, the ball and chain that she would take down to the pit if only her treacherous spark would let her. It was daylight outside, a rarity for this part of Cybertron. Every Predacon that saw her at first gave her a dirty look, but that usually turned to a look of shock and horror when they saw what she was carrying. A few yelled out for the police. Others dragged their sparklings away from her. She ignored them all. She had to get to Flatline Asylum. It was the only place left that could hold her.

She finally made it to her destination, and when she went inside she was surprised by how much darker it was inside than outside. It took a moment for her optics to adjust to the shadows, and when they finally did she could see a couple bystanders were gawking at her, including the receptionist.

"Um…can I help you?" The receptionist, a roach-former, asked apprehensively.

"Checkin' in," Quillbit said tiredly.

"No kidding," The receptionist said under her breath, but Quillbit heard her.

"Oh, and uh, can you tell me what I should do with this?" Quillbit asked as she held up her cargo, a disconnected turtle shell with dried fluids crusting the exposed wires.

"We'll take care of it," The receptionist replied vaguely, "You do realize you're in Predacon territory, right?"

"Yeah," Quillbit replied.

"And that you're carrying a huge piece of a Predacon corpse?"

"He ain't no Pred!" Quillbit snapped defensively, "This was my bondmate, Carapace. He was a Maximal like me."

"This asylum is for patients with processor defects," The receptionist told her, "If you're just trying to use insanity as an excuse to murder your bondmate then you will be sorely disappointed. Kaon doesn't take kindly to murderers, especially Maximals who murder our citizens. The Tripredacus Council will likely find your guilty and sentence you to death."

"Good luck," Quillbit scoffed, "Lady, if I could die I wouldn't be here right now. Look, I don't know how this happened, I don't know why this happened, but I know I must have done it. Just a few weeks ago I had processor surgery to make my delusions go away, but it didn't work. My spark keeps reachin' out for bonds that ain't there. My last psychotic episode involved me thinkin' someone was rippin' my arms off. Before that, I thought I was on fire. Now…well, if this is real, then you gotta lock me up. It's too late to save Carapace, but my son is still out there somewhere, and for his sake…I gotta be buried in the deepest hole you can find for me, and never let out."


Quillbit entered her body, back on the ship, and wondered why she had come back at all. She was less dangerous as a spark ghost, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Deep down, in the tiniest recesses of her spark, she wanted to live. She was the only one left to remember Carapace, to remember her old family members and her old life. She might not have been the better half of the partnership, but she was all that was left. She had to survive, like it or not.

When Quillbit looked around her cell, she noticed something was different. Everything seemed duller, less reflective. She couldn't figure out why at first, but then she realized…the glass…the door. It was open.

At first Quillbit didn't know what to do. It had been so many years since anyone had left a door open for her. Instinct said run to freedom, but instead her body froze. She just stared at it like it was some strange wormhole that had opened up on the ship, ready to suck her into another part of space and time.

Slowly, without being consciously aware of it, Quillbit took tiny tentative steps toward the opening. Step. Step. Step. She could hear the faint patter of her own feet, and the shifting of her quills as she moved.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she was in the hallway. She looked around, and didn't know which way to go. She couldn't even remember the layout of the ship from when she had been brought aboard in the first place. Was she sedated then? She couldn't remember.

One thing Quillbit did remember however was that there were only two crew members on this bucket besides herself. A Predacon spy, and a helpless old bat. Easy prey, if she chose to attack. Truth was though, she wouldn't have to choose to attack. Her processor would fritz and she would attack anyway. That was the nature of her existence. An immortal killer. A creature feared by most, and studied by Maximal scientists who wanted that power for themselves.

She didn't want to hurt these people however, especially not Syphon. The bat might have been annoying and virtually unintelligible, but she was kind and had treated Quillbit with as much dignity as the situation could afford. Ravage likewise had tried to make her comfortable. They might have been Predacons, but they weren't her enemy.

Reaching into a subspace she wasn't supposed to have, Quillbit took out one of the anti-psychotic pills she had been hoarding. Being behind glass she didn't have to worry, but if she was going to walk around in the same space as the crew, then she needed to be lucid.

She gulped down the pill and took a deep breath. Choosing a door at random, Quillbit made her way to what she would soon find out was the commissary. Once she was there, she would raid the fridge of every chocolate-themed item she could find. Cake, pudding, and even chocolate milk soon found their way onto the table in front of Quillbit. Oh yes, she was going to enjoy freedom very much…as long as the memories didn't come back.