a/n: I wrote this shortly after reading a story in which a bunch of nameless seekers were killed. That really bothered me, they way they died. It was so pointless...and so I guess I decided to write this as a response. I felt there should have been something more. This isn't much, but it's my tribute (if you will) to the many nameless seekers that make up the Decepticon army. Many thanks go to Kez and Sailor Loon who helped to edit this.

The captive sat in a pitiful, dejected mass apart from the others, unbound and uncaged. It was not a particularly brilliant move on the Autobots' behalf, but not all 'bots went around carrying restraints in their subspace pockets, after all. Resources were tight, and in a remote region such as this, one generally had to make do with what resources they had. Besides, nothing really could replace good old-fashioned guard duty.

Said guard sat a few paces away from the captive, idly tracing patterns in the ground with the barrel of his gun, not in the least bit concerned about his charge. No one ever did like guard duty, or most other old-fashioned tasks, for that matter.

But the guard was not alone. Two of his companions could be seen in the distance, trailing clouds of dust behind them as they raced across the plains, performing a cursory search of the area.

It had been a routine mission for both parties, their literal run-in was not. Each participant had picked a target whom they pursued relentlessly. The sounds of tires peeling across pavement, of jet engines roaring and of laser fire raining down from above had filled the air. But then the dust had settled, and as misfortune would have it, one seeker had been left behind.

--abandoned. Because that's what your kind does to each other.

The jet clenched his fists once again as the Autobot's words continued to fill his audios. The remark was scathing, not just because it came from an Autobot but because it rang true.

Left behind.

Here he was, in the grasp of the enemy, and some enemy at that. Now he would undoubtedly be subject to their so called, "mercy." The Decepticon frowned sourly at the thought. They can keep their mercy; damned if it makes a difference to me. I just want to get home.

And the chance of that occurring was slim to none, he reminded himself. Damaged as he was, he wasn't going to make it very far; the fact that his transformation cog was ruined did little to improve his situation. For that disgrace he glared venomously at his guard, his pale face bathed in blood red light.

His guard paid him no heed and continued to draw on the ground. The Decepticon did his best to resist the urge to heave a sigh. As if getting left behind wasn't enough, this treatment was utterly humiliating. He had been so close, so very close to home...

His gaze shifted off to the right. The view that direction afforded him was less than interesting, a flat expanse with the occasional lump of a structure or landmass here and there. But in the distance the profile of a city could be made out, and one lone spire thrust upward.

Home.

It was miles away, far beyond his reach in his present state. And yet, he had to try, didn't he? If he didn't now, what else was there left for him?

The steady thrum of engines grew distant. He had to move. Now.

He shifted his legs tentatively, watching the guard for a reaction. The optics of the other flashed brightly then returned to their normal passive state. Now, he had to pull this off perfectly. If he was off by even the slightest fraction of a nano-second–

Oh, slag it all. He lunged forward.

The guard let out a yelp of surprise as the 'con tackled him to the ground and knocked his blaster out of his grip. The two scrambled for the weapon until the Autobot managed to throw the seeker on his back - a move the former instantly regretted. The seeker seized on the chance to ignite his thrusters and turned them on the Autobot, who recoiled in pain.

The distraction afforded him only a moment's opening, it was all he needed. Desperation overwhelming reason, he ran, leapt into the air and fled. The sounds of shouting and laser fire raced after him, piercing the sky around him. A single bolt punctured his shoulder, rendering his arm completely useless. He growled.

Idiot. Should have taken his gun away first!

And then he saw them–the other two Autobots–speeding towards him, closing the intervening distance far too quickly. They hadn't been as far away as he had thought! He cursed and took evasive maneuvers, dodging their fire. Low energy warnings flashed across his mind. As if he didn't have enough to worry about.

One of the Autobots down below transformed, took careful aim and fired a grappling hook attached to a cable at the seeker, at the seeker, tightening his grip in anticipation as the ran the length of its tether. At least some Autobots came prepared.

The seeker let out a sharp cry as the cable drew taunt around him, pulling him back to the ground. But it was not a cry of fear or pain as some might have guessed. It was a cry of utter despair of one who has just been broken, seeing their last shred of hope ripped away from them. His frame reverberated, echoing the despair expressed in his cry. His vision narrowed. He could see nothing more than his goal, his hope, disappear into the distance as he fell, his arm still reaching out for it.

His mind barely even registered the shock when he hit the ground--and bounced. He heard the sound of his captors approach--damn them and their mercy-- though the sound was muffled and full of static.

"Ah great, damn 'con's made a mess of himself," he heard a voice above him say. "Someone call for a medic, we need this one alive!"

His vision began to dim, but still he could see the spires in the distance. He whispered mournfully, "I just wanted to go home."