Well, seems I'm back to the slow updates. Sorry about that; I'm doing my best.

Thank you to those that reviewed since last chapter. I appreciate each and every word used (besides the couple guest reviews I had to delete because of language). :)

Guest (Chapter 41) - Thank you. I try to use guns that fit the situation, particularly when it involves non-military personnel. And I quite like the FN Five-seven - surprisingly powerful and twenty rounds a clip. Can't argue with that.

No comment regarding the attacker.

As to Extremis, well - no comment, either. I will say that I have enough material for him to make a half dozen novels just about him. Not kidding.

And I'm always working on this; I say I'm working on my novel because I am splitting my attention between the two. Thanks for wishing me luck on the novel, by the way!

Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this update.

Guest (Chapter 4) - I am kind of writing my own stuff right now - sharing the plots I've invented. The Season 1 Finale is going to show up at some point, but - as I like to do - most canon material I use for this story is modified to suit the chapter I want to write.

Thanks for the review/question.

Guest (Chapter 17) - Hmm. A good choice, though it might be a little too fast-paced for the scene you're talking about. I will still consider that when I get to rewriting that chapter.

Thanks for the suggestion.

Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.

Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.

August 10, 2013 1:49 P.M

Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada

"Get the sword, get the sword!"

"I can't; I have a Colossus in my way. It's a bit of an issue."

"Then cover me! I might be able t—crap!"

"And you're dead."

"Did you see that?! The shot followed me around the corner! It doesn't do that! I hate the Colossus' OP Magic Blast, and the game for cheating! Damn it!"

"We have young ears nearby—watch your tongue."

Miko switched to her native language.

I turned my holoform's head toward Miko, widening its eyes to show my surprise at her choice of words.

After I had finished clearing out Kilo-9, I spent the remainder of the cycle passing time in the Safe and playing games with Raf and Miko until I went to recharge. The game we had played the most was one they had purchased the cycle before last—Dawn of Civilization: Empires.

Dawn of Civilization was a first-person role-playing game set during an alternate Earth. In this parallel Earth, the continents were still joined together as Pangaea, leaving all peoples from ancient history and prehistory to live together. Magic, creatures of myth, and legends of folklore were also very real and incredibly powerful on this Earth. You started the game out as an up-and-coming warrior in a remote tribe on a continent and territory of the player's choosing. As you play, you earn respect in your tribe; and as you earn respect, your chances of becoming the next leader of the tribe are increased.

Eventually, you become the leader, and from there you can choose what path your tribe follows in the future: a conqueror of lands, where you lead the tribe into battles against increasingly larger rival tribes and merge them with your own, forming the beginnings of an empire; a cultured society, in which you focus on developing the tribe into the world's first true civilization and, in turn, its first nation; lovers of technology, where you discover and invent new technologies to make the lives of the tribe easier, and eventually gain enough influence to have other tribes join you; or children of the ancients, where you lead your tribe to searching for their origins through clues across the world. There were many ways to play each path, and there were dozens of aspects of running a tribe, and eventually even a massive empire set in modern times, that you could control directly or allow advisers to control for you. But no matter how far along you advanced, you still had to deal with monsters causing chaos.

Miko, Raf, and I were currently playing the game—Raf had died earlier—and were passing time before Jack and Arcee finally returned to base from Jack's double shift—he was 'Sleeping it off,' in Miko's words. We were on a quest to slay a Titan attempting to escape from the Underworld, but could only succeed by stabbing it with an ancient sword that had been wielded by a legendary hero during the war between humanity and the Titans thousands of years before the game's events.

The problem was, the temple where the sword was resting was guarded by a pair of stone Colossus'. They were giant, non-sentient enemies made to be weapons of war by old humanity that had been alone so long they now saw anything that wasn't another Colossus as an enemy. They were among the most difficult enemies we had encountered so far in the game, even on the lowest difficulty.

And we set the game to its highest difficulty—Nightmare—when we started this co-op playthrough.

It probably hadn't been the best idea, admittedly.

"What's she saying?" Raf asked me, raising his eyebrows as Miko kept going on in her native language.

"Nothing I should utter out loud."

"That bad?"

"Worse. It's actually impressive; I never knew you could use so many ordinary words in such a manner."

"... Cool?" Raf asked, tone and face showing his confusion on how to feel about Miko's creativity when it came to cursing in her native language.

I laughed and returned to focusing on my own character in the game. I was playing as a Centurion, a class designed to be a tank with some limited magical abilities. I had my character equipped with a full set of Skel, the best armor there was in the current era our game was set in—the Time of Myths. The Skel shield had a fifty percent resistance to most forms of magic, and my sword could fire bolts of fire and was enchanted to be more difficult to shatter. I also had a staff for more powerful magic attacks that I could switch for my sword.

The Colossus that had been keeping me from the sword since we reached the main chamber threw a boulder at my character, forcing me to place my character behind a pillar on the outskirts of the room. It lumbered toward the pillar, throwing boulders and magical attacks at my cover, breaking away pieces of it.

"Nightmare—the only difficulty that increases environment destruction," said Raf. "Why did we want to play it on Nightmare, again?"

"I was bored," Miko said.

"It was a challenge," I said, using a tone that make it clear I was second-guessing myself on that choice.

I moved my character out from behind the rapidly-deteriorating pillar to get behind a different pillar, firing four fire bolts as I ran between cover.

Only two of my fire bolts hit the Colossus, and they barely managed to even make the health bar of the giant enemy move, and those attacks would have killed or seriously injured basic enemies. The other two bolts flew through the air and hit the far wall.

"That sure helped," said Miko sarcastically.

"Excuse me, but aren't you dead? I seem to recall you flying into a storm of curses and insults in Japanese, mostly about the developers' mothers."

The Japanese teen's only response was to curse at me in her native language.

Waiting until another boulder was thrown into my cover, I had my character run out from behind the pillar and rush the Colossus as it went down to pick up another rock to throw. My character slashed multiple times at the Colossus' hand as its primitive AI told it to change attacks since it detected the player had left cover. The sword cut into the stone of the Colossus' hand, sending dust and rock fragments out from the wound. Same as when the firebolts hit it, the Colossus' health bar was barely drained by my character's attack.

As soon as I landed my strikes, I had my character roll backward to avoid the Colossus' counterattack of stomping the ground where my Centurion had been standing. Even though I had moved my character back, the stomp still emitted a shockwave of splash damage that took down my health by a quarter.

"That's not good," I said, mostly to myself as I had my character run away and swap out its sword for its staff.

A Magic Blast—sent from the second Colossus, the one which had killed Miko—crashed about twenty feet in front of my character. The splash damage reduced my Centurion's health to less than a third and caused my part of the screen to begin flashing red. I had been lucky—a direct hit would have killed me even with full health.

"Now it's really not good," said Raf. "And after that, it'll be a disaster. I think it'll get to that level in about a minute."

"Hey, Raf. Of the three of us, who died to the Trolls at the temple entrance?"

"That never happened."

"Really? Because I had a perfect memory even while I was human, and I remember you getting impaled by a troll's arm spike."

"... Let's not talk about it."

"Are you going to take back your time estimate?"

"No. I'll just extend it to one and a half minutes."

"Fair enough, considering my situation."

As Raf and I conversed, I moved my Centurion back around a corner to drink a potion to restore half my health without having to worry about the Colossus'. Then I ran my character around the bend again and used its staff to fire a bolt of lightning at the first Colossus; if I didn't focus my efforts on only one at a time, there was no way I would even have a chance to kill either of them.

The lightning bolt staggered the Colossus back, charring its shoulder. Its health went down maybe two percent, far more than any other attacks I had used. The thing was damn tough—Summon Lightning was my most powerful non-Power Attack move.

With my strongest attack basically useless, I had my character duck into cover, then I asked a very important question: "Should I use a Divine Gem?"

Divine Gems were a spherical, octagon-shaped, fragile diamonds of unknown origin. They held incredible amounts of magical power that could be used for a great number of uses, including boosting combat abilities, but they were very rare; for every hundred gemstone you encountered—they themselves a rare find in loot—you would get one Divine Gem, two if you were lucky. Because of their rarity and wide range of uses, they were worth more than twenty times their weight in Gold and Silver. We had a total of four Divine Gems between the three of us.

Miko and Raf looked at each other uncertainly, both clearly weighing the worth of one of our Divine Gems against the rewards we would get from completing the quest.

"I don't know," said Raf. "We're only going to get a hundred Gold and some class items from this quest. From where I'm sitting right now, it's not worth it. But I still don't know."

"Then let us do it! The Gold is just what we know we're getting from the quest," said Miko. "Remember how we thought we'd only get a bar of Silver from the quest to hunt down the Mountain Dragon? We ended up getting a portion of the Dragon's horde for saving the Chieftain's brother! I say take the risk!"

"Two votes to one, Raf," I said, making my character scramble for new cover since my old cover was beginning to break. "And you're running out of time to vote. What's it going to be?"

The youngest teen sighed. "Alright. Do it."

I had my character equip a Divine Gem and crush it in its hand. Immediately a white haze appeared on my portion of the screen, and my character let out a furious battle cry. My Centurion jumped out from behind cover, staff blazing with light, ready to fight the two Colossus' with the strength of a dozen me—

Then a magic blast from each Colossus hit my character directly, as if they had known I would be standing there before I did. They sent my character flying across the digital room and took my health all the way down to zero, despite the massive physical and magical resistance the Divine Gem had given my character.

Dead silence descended on all three of us as the game over screen appeared on the TV. None of us wanted to believe how easily I had just been killed, and none of us wanted to acknowledge the fact I just wasted one of our Divine Gems.

Fragging Colossus' Magic Blasts. Miko was right—the game is cheating.

"I hate this game; I really do," Raf said, breaking our collective silence. "First I die about ten seconds after we reach the temple, then Miko gets killed by a homing Magic Blast, now Shadowstreaker gets wrecked right after using a Divine Gem." He looked at me. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Think nothing of it—I always try my best."

Miko stood up and tossed her controller on the couch. "I can't play this game anymore. I can't. I'm just gonna end up breaking my controller. This is bul—"

"Bulkhead to base—we finished our sweep of the cave in Sector 19. Requesting a space bridge."

Ignoring Miko's frustrated cursing, I dematerialized my holoform and transformed from my MRAP mode into my true form, quickly walking up to the workstation. I was on space bridge duty at the moment, and as such I needed to find out what the problem was. It probably hadn't been a good idea to play video games while I was on duty, but I had figured—why not? I had been stressed recently, and nothing bad had happened while I was on duty. And if it did, I would only be delayed in reacting by a few micro-klicks. What was the big deal about a few micro-klicks?

After I reached the workstation, I turned off the alert and answered Bulkhead as I typed in a command to open a bridge at Bulkhead and Springer's coordinates, "Opening bridge."

The space bridge opened, and Bulkhead and Springer stepped into the space bridge tunnel.

"About time. It almost seemed like you were giving us the silent treatment," Springer joked once he and Bulkhead entered the ops center, walking toward me while Bulkhead walked over to Miko and Raf.

I shut off the space bridge and looked at the green Triple-Changer. "I wasn't giving you the silent treatment; I was playing Dawn of Civilization with Miko and Raf."

That got a surprised look from Springer. "You weren't operating the space bridge while you were on shift?"

I shrugged. "I needed to reduce the amount of stress I've been under recently. Playing Dawn of Civilization was a great way to relax, plus kills time. And I was never far away from the workstation. Seemed like it wouldn't be a big deal."

"... Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Slacking off just isn't like you—you usually barely move until you're relieved."

"So it's strange I acted more like a person and less like a mech on autopilot?"

"Y—nevermind. I guess I just find it strange that for you placed fun ahead of your duties, especially with how you've been recently."

I tuned Springer out for a moment and looked over at the entertainment center as Bulkhead transformed and activated his holoform to take over my character on Dawn of Civilization. Then I focused back on Springer. "How'd the recon mission go?"

The green Triple-Changer was silent for a long moment, staring at me with confused optics, then he shook his helm and replied with, "It went well. 'Cons weren't active for once, so we were able to search the entire sector without any interruptions."

"Find anything?"

"Nothing besides snow and rocks."

"Not even in the cave you decided to explore?"

"Besides more rocks? Nothing major, just trace readings of energon. It was probably used to store energon at some point after Cybertron went dark, but it's been gone for a long time."

"Sounds like it was no more eventful than a typical patrol," I concluded.

Springer shrugged. "I'll take a boring patrol over an action-filled one. Less gunfire that way."

I smirked. "Now where's the fun in that?"

Springer frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes…?" I asked uncertainly, confused why Springer was essentially repeating his previous question—he usually only did that when he didn't receive an answer. "Are you okay? You're the only one of us acting strange."

The base's proximity sensor activating cut Springer off before he could respond. I turned to see what the alert was, and smiled. Arcee was approaching the entrance tunnel with Jack.

I typed the command to open the front door and stepped away from the workstation to wait in the center of the ops center for Arcee and Jack to arrive. Faintly, I could feel Springer continuing to frown at me. I ignored him and and his odd mood, and focused on waiting for my courted to arrive.

I soon started to pick up the high-pitch whine of Arcee's engine echoing from the tunnel. Then I saw her round the bend with Jack. Shortly after that, Arcee came to a stop and Jack climbed off her and took off his helmet groggily; I saw a lot of fatigue in his eyes once his helmet was off.

"Hey," the oldest teen greeted me slowly, and sleepily made his way passed me without waiting for me to greet him back.

I wonder, did he sleep on the way over here? He's acting like he got up a klick ago. Double shift must have been hard on him.

After Jack climbed off and walked away, Arcee transformed gracefully and looked at me, a servo coming to rest on her hip. "Sorry about the long wait, Shadow'—sleepy head over there wasn't cooperating with my demand to get up. Had to resort to blasting my horn until he couldn't sleep anymore, no matter how much he wanted to."

I smiled down at Arcee, not caring about her apology, only that she was here. I closed the distance between us and wrapped a servo around the small of her backplates and pulled her in against my frame, drawing a sound of exclamation from my courted. Then I spun around and dipped her down low, so that she was mostly parallel with the floor. Then I kissed her passionately, enjoying the feeling that spread through me whenever we shared a moment like this. After two micro-klicks, I broke the kiss and returned Arcee to her standing position, giving her one last little half spin as I let her go.

My courted blinked rapidly after I let her go, as if dazed and surprised by my sudden action; however, she also didn't seem displeased. Far from it, in fact.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw everyone else looking at Arcee and I—mostly me—in shock, like they couldn't believe I had done that. Why would they be surprised? Let's see them control themselves after not seeing their courted for more than a cycle.

Miko looked at Jack—who was on the final steps leading up to the entertainment center—and asked, "How come you don't do stuff like that with me?"

"Because you already swoon," answered Jack groggily.

"I do not swoon!"

"You do, too."

"I am exaggerating for your benefit!"

"Aww. You're adorable when you lie."

I saw Raf close his eyes and mouth, "Please, to anyone who is listening to me right now, please for the love all that is holy don't let Shadowstreaker and Arcee become any more like Jack and Miko."

Arcee recovered from her initial surprise and said, "Shadow'... That—"

"Was great, unexpected, profound?" I offered with a grin.

"—was totally unlike you," she finished as if I hadn't spoken, now looking more confused than pleased. "Where the pit did that come from, anyway?"

I shrugged, not really sure why she was finding my behavior strange. I loved her, why wouldn't I show it? "I just haven't seen you in more than a full cycle. I wanted to show you how much I missed you, so I did. That a bad thing?"

My courted shook her helm. "No. It's just you don't like being so… Open in displaying affection—you don't try kissing me while around others unless I'm the one who does it. The only time you've ever even tried was when you returned to Earth. What changed?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know. I just like being spontaneous."

"... You like to plan things."

I checked my internal clock to see how long I had left in my shift at the space bridge. Two 'o clock. I was finished, and had to get back to my quarters before I had to report to the top of the base for my next assignment; I had to finish a little side project.

Last night, I had taken a lot longer to fall into recharge than usual for a reason I didn't know. During my long breems of staring at the ceiling, my CPU randomly created the idea for a surprise gift to give Arcee this cycle. I liked the gift and the meaning it had behind it, so I onlined even earlier than I typically did and raided a storage hanger for the scrap parts and tools I needed to make the gift a reality. I had made good progress on it before getting stuck, and the thought of the gift had been in the back of my CPU since I started my shift of space bridge duty.

"I'm off space bridge duty. About time," I said, and started to walk toward the hallway.

"Where are you going, Shadow'?" Arcee asked. "I just got here and you're leaving?"

"I've got some stuff I need to do. Once I'm done, we'll spend some time together."

"You aren't even going to wait until the bot scheduled for the next shift gets here to relieve you?"

"Nope. They should have been here when I got off. Now it's not my problem. I'll comm you when I'm free again."

I walked out of the ops center and into the hallway to my quarters before Arcee said anything else, focusing on my thoughts of finishing my gift for her. I had figured out how to get passed the issue that had stumped me before, but now I also had even less time to finish it—didn't want to end the cycle without giving it to Arcee.

With my processor occupied by my thoughts of how to make Arcee's gift, I didn't notice the cold stare my courted started to give me as soon as I started to leave the room.

Arcee felt many things as she watched her courted walk out of the room, none of them good.

Anger was one thing she felt—anger at how he dismissed all she had said and didn't even seem to be apologetic in the fact he was leaving her within five klicks of them reuniting after more than a cycle apart.

Confusion was another thing she felt, directed entirely at how unusual his behavior had been the moment she arrived at base; with how he had been lately—in his overall personality—his 'Spontaneous' moment of showing affection and his carefree behavior were exceedingly abnormal.

And she felt worried. She was worried for her courted. Every ounce of instinct in her frame was telling her he wasn't as well as he seemed to be. And her femme's intuition was saying one thing and one thing only: something was very, very wrong.

"Do you see it?" Springer asked her, stepping up to her side, though at a respectful distance—he hadn't stepped closer than fifteen feet away from her since he returned from the Paraion station with Shadow' and Jetfire. She was thankful he had chosen to change from his ways of drooling after any attractive femme who crossed his path and be a better mech.

"Springer, I'm Shadow's courted. I don't see it; I feel it," Arcee replied, crossing her servos and staring at the hallway entrance. "I feel it in his behavior, in what he says or doesn't acknowledge, in the way he kissed me."

"I didn't need to know that part, you know..."

Arcee rolled her optics. "Yes, I saw it. Happy?"

Springer took a small step away from the blue and pink femme. "That would depend on whether you plan on hurting me if I say yes."

"I do. Want to know how?"

"Whoa, what's got you revved up, Arcee?" Bulkhead asked through his alt mode, finally tuning into the conversation after through his alt mode after dematerializing his holoform once Jack was up at the entertainment center.

"Shadow'," Arcee replied, sounding calmer than she felt—her emotions were a whirlwind at the moment, and her sarcastic remark to Springer showed that. She didn't like not having a full grip on her emotions. "Did you not find how he acted strange, like Springer and I do?"

Bulkhead transformed. "Well, yeah he was acting a little weird, but that's no reason to get upset with him over it. What did he really do, anyway?"

"He kissed me."

Bulkhead blinked and looked at Springer like he could interpret what that meant.

Springer gave his fellow Wrecker a helpless shrug. "I agree Shadowstreaker was acting strange even before she got here, but I'm not totally following her on that particular part."

Arcee sighed quietly. Mechs. "I meant what I said about Shadow's comfort level in displaying affection openly."

Bulkhead seemed to start understanding the situation. "Well, yeah his little… Maneuver wasn't like him, but I think this is a little bit of an overreaction to it."

"It's a femme thing," said Arcee.

"Ditto," Miko agreed, also looking at the hallway with an unusually serious look on her face. "I'm not liking this."

"Sometimes people act odd, even if they almost never do,," Jack said. "Maybe he's just in a good mood, seeing his girlfriend after a day. Courted, sorry—I'm running on roughly four hours' sleep."

"Maybe, but that would only go to a point," said Raf, sitting back as he waited to continue playing Dawn of Civilization after Miko returned and Jack took over the Centurion. "Maybe he had a full cube of high-grade last night and he's still feeling the effects. You guys said high-grade affects each bot differently, couldn't it still be affecting him now if he had some last night?"

Jack and the mechs agreed with Raf's statement, but Arcee and Miko didn't. They kept staring at the hallway for far longer than the males and mechs. But eventually, Miko's game called her, and she went back to playing.

Arcee kept staring, feeling there was still something very wrong with her courted, the one she had Imprinted on and who in turn Imprinted on her.

And she was going to find out what it was.

I placed down the tool usually meant for calibrating weapons and examined Arcee's gift, searching it thoroughly for any chips or other opticsores. I wanted it to be like her: beautiful and perfect.

It was then I realized that the part I used for the stem was rusted beneath the paint, the metal so corroded that flakes of it were falling off when I rubbed it.

With a heavy sigh, I tossed the latest version of Arcee's gift into the 'Trash' box and started going through more parts from the 'Supply' box. I was trying to craft a metal flower for my courted, using her own colors for the flower's appearance: the same tone of azure as her optics for the flower's petals; the same shade of pink she had as accents for its leaves; and her normal blue for the stem of the flower.

No matter what I did, it seemed I always encountered a problem with each version. Sometimes the problem was minor like I had cut or bent the metal a little too much for it to match my mental image of the gift. And other times I did something stupid like make the metal too hot as I reshaped it and cause it to melt. I discarded each and every version; if it wasn't perfect, I wasn't interested in continuing to work on it.

I took a long rod out from the pile and checked more carefully for rust or other reasons why it had been labeled as scrap. Finding one or two minor defects I could burn off with the small plasma cutter I took from the storage hanger I raided, I put the rod on the workbench and went back to the Supply box.

A moment of searching provided me with a wide, thin sheet of metal that held an impressive luster to it—a reaction that some metals had when mixed with even a minute amount of Primax. This would be good for the flower petals. I put the sheet next to the rod and continued searching for parts.

Prowl opened a channel with me just as I resumed my search, "Shadowstreaker."

"Yeah, Prowl?"

"You're late in reporting topside."

I checked my internal clock and cursed at the fact it was eleven klicks past the time Prowl had ordered me to meet him up top. I gave the parts I picked out a regretful look, then stood up. "I'm on my way, now."

"You would be here by now if you properly accounted for travel time." Prowl cut the channel without saying anything else.

I shook my helm as I stepped out of my quarters and locked the door behind me. What had him in such a bad mood this cycle? He had been railing on me as soon as I first saw him this cycle. First he had me rearrange a storage hanger he had me organize, said I had done it sloppily. To be fair, I had done it sloppily. But that was no reason to have me do it again. Let the next bot who goes in there do it—I had done exactly what Prowl asked me to do: organize the storage hanger. He hadn't told me to do everything perfectly correct.

Then he refused to let me switch space bridge shifts with Bulkhead, citing that since I was suspended, my preference for when I had my shift at the space bridge was irrelevant. I found that cold.

And then there was his stare. Whenever I was in the room, all he did was just stare at me blankly. Even more blankly than his typical look: none of his facial plates moved; his optics contained zero emotion or expression; and his tone of voice remained flat and steady throughout any conversation. It was like he had caught himself feeling emotion, and was now trying twice as hard to keep it away.

It was creepy.

I arrived at the elevator shortly after I left my quarters and arrived at the top of the base. Prowl stood in front of one of our four Warden anti-air cannons we had in case of attack, a box of tools and small parts at his pedes. The Warden was deployed from its camouflaged base, its eighteen massive barrels idle and pointing up at a forty-five degree angle.

Prowl was already looking in my direction by the time I stepped off the elevator. "Thirteen klicks and twenty-two micro-klicks late. Being this late during Autobot Armed Forces training would have gotten you punished for a mega-cycle by the instructors."

"You sound like that's what you want to do to me," I said.

"The thought has crossed my processor."

I laughed at his words, thinking it an exceptionally rare joke on his part, until I realized that emotionless stare of his didn't change at all. "Wait, you're serious?"

"I run on logic; logic and being serious go with one another."

I balked. "I'm less than fifteen klicks late, and you want to toss me in the brig?"

"When your superior officer tells you the time and location to report, you report to that location when they tell you. Always."

"It was a simple mistake! I lost track of time working on something for Arcee," I said. "Sorry I was late one time in my orbital-cycle and a half of being an Autobot."

The SIC's abnormally—even for him—stoic optics stared at me for a long time, then at last he said, "It only takes one mistake to earn discipline from a superior."

"It won't happen again, your royal Prowlness," I said sarcastically, giving him a mock salute. I probably shouldn't be disrespectful, but I really didn't give a slag; the mech was just making me mad with his open desire to put me in the brig for something that didn't matter.

More staring. Then Prowl turned and looked up at the Warden behind him. "This Warden is in need of cleaning and maintenance. So do the others. Due to protocol, we cannot shut down more than one Warden at a time. You are to clean this particular cannon, manually reactivate it, and manually shut down each of the other Wardens one at a time until you have cleaned them all. You will not leave this area until your task is complete. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand—you used small words so I didn't get confused. Thanks for that. Is that it?"

Prowl folded his servos behind his backplates. "Yes, it is. Contact me when you have concluded your assignment." He walked by me and entered the elevator, then disappeared down into the base. He didn't wait for me to acknowledge his last order.

Aft.

Pushing aside my anger toward Prowl before it could fester, I walked up to the Warden and began a preliminary inspection before I started working on it. The Warden's barrels were covered in a thin layer of grease, and when I manually rotated the barrels themselves, they proved slow and inconsistent in their rotation—they should have spun quickly and fluidly. Grime and debris had also gathered inside the ring below the Warden's base that allowed the weapon to spin pivot and shoot targets behind it, severely limiting its ability to aim. That would need to be cleaned out so the weapon was fully functional.

In all, time-consuming, but straightforward enough. I picked up a tool from the box and started working.

"Come on, you stubborn piece of scrap," I mumbled to myself, trying to remove a fractured rivet from inside the Warden's base. I had found the damaged bolt while cleaning the base of the Warden's barrels, and immediately went to replace it. But whatever had caused the bolt to fracture—whether it be from wear and tear, a defect in the bolt itself, or simply had been installed incorrectly—had done a real number on it; it barely moved no matter what I did, and the fact it was located in an area I couldn't generation a lot of torque didn't help.

Getting nowhere with the technique I was using, I stopped trying to turn the rivet with the wrench I had and adjusted my position inside the Warden's innards, moving to try going at the bolt from the bottom instead of the side. I had to flatten my wings against my backplates, but I managed to get underneath the barrels of the Warden and get a better angle on the rivet.

I reached up and placed the wrench around the offending bolt so the wrench's handle was parallel to my lying position. Then I started pulling down, my new position allowing me to use more of my strength along with my considerable weight to try turning the rivet.

At first, nothing happened. Then the rivet twisted a quarter of a rotation. Soon after that I was able to turn it without any resistance, and I quickly removed it from its housing.

"Now, what was making you so difficult?" I asked aloud to myself, turning the bolt over in my servo, ignoring the grease on the shaft of the rivet—I was already covered in grease and gun oil.

It looked like that the fracture had originated from the bottom of the shaft and worked its way up to the head, allowing it to be visible in the first place. The fracture was larger at the bottom of the shaft, splitting the metal and causing a small portion of the rivet to extend out beyond the width the fastener should have been. That would be what made this thing such a pain in the aft.

With the damaged rivet now removed at last, I opened a sub-space pocket to reach for the replacement rivet I grabbed from the supply box as soon as I saw the faulty rivet. I found the new fastener, screwed it into place, tightened it with the wrench, and made my out from beneath the barrels.

Once I was out, I placed the wrench down and tossed the rivet out of the Warden's innards to be dealt with later. Then I went back to cleaning the Warden's cannon barrels. But I hadn't cleaned much before I realized something curious.

I never heard the rivet hit the ground.

I started climbing up to the hole I used to enter the inside of the Warden. And when I reached it, I climbed out and looked down toward the ground.

Arcee was looking up at me from near the base of the turret, tossing the rivet I discarded up in the air and catching it casually. The look on her faceplate was suspiciously serious. "You dropped this."

I smiled down at my courted. "Why hello, pretty femme. I'd give you a proper greeting, but I'm in need of a long trip to the washracks." For emphasis, I flicked my wrist, sending numerous droplets of gun oil off my servo and down to the ground far from Arcee.

Arcee's serious look slipped for a moment, but she replaced it quickly. Did that mean I was in trouble? "No greeting is necessary. Not after earlier."

I rose an optic ridge. No greeting necessary? Since when were we formal with each other? "You sound like you're upset with me."

"Not upset. Confused."

"Okay. Why are you confused?" I asked, leaning against the edge of the Warden and ruining part of its camouflage with gun oil and grease. Probably will need to cle—nah, it'll be fine. Not like camouflage needs to be perfect, anyway.

"I think you know why."

"No, not really."

"About earlier, down in the ops center."

I sighed, already feeling this conversation was unnecessary and pointless. "Look, I know we haven't spent any time together yet, but we both have duti—"

"This isn't about that."

I gave her a confused look. "Then what's it about? Because that's all I'm coming up with."

"I'm talking about how you acted when I arrived—the way you dismissed my concerns and questions."

"That's what you're mad about? I give you a kiss after seeing you for the first time in more than a cycle, and you're upset with me? How does that even make sense?"

"When the kiss is accompanied by strange behavior on your part, which it was."

"Holy slag, that was a rhetorical question!"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?"

Arcee climbed up the base of the turret with alarming speed. On the last part of her trip upward, she leaped into the air, performing a full flip and half spin before gracefully landing on top of the barrels of the Warden, leaving us roughly the same height.

Well, that was attractive.

"You're acting strangely again," Arcee answered my previous question as she crossed her servos over chestplates and gave me a suspicious look.

I scoffed. "And just how am I doing that?"

"You're being sarcastic with me, and are annoyed that I'm questioning your behavior."

"I'm always sarcastic with you."

"Not like this."

"Well, I wouldn't be if someone I knew hadn't come up here to bring up something that isn't worth talking about."

"And there's the annoyance."

"I'm not annoyed!"

"Then what would you call what you just said?"

"Being incredulous!"

"About what?"

"That you're still dwelling on our kiss from earlier! It's been breems!"

"Yes, it has. And I still can't make any sense of it."

"Look, what do you want me to say? That I'm sorry for kissing you? Okay, I'll apologize: I'm sorry for expressing my love to you while others were around; I promise to never do it again. That make this better, now?"

Arcee leaned in closer so her optics were staring directly into mine. "No."

I sighed, the action letting me vent a little of the frustration that had built up in me during the course of our conversation; it felt like this whole discussion was redundant. "Then what do you want me to say?"

"It's not about what you say—it's how you act."

"And how am I acting?"

"I've said it twice already: strangely. You were behaving strangely the moment I returned to base, and you haven't stopped since." Despite the steely look on her faceplate, a noticeable amount of concern entered her optics. "Is there something wrong that you're not telling me about?"

So that's what all this has been about? She's concerned I'm not alright and aren't telling her? "Arcee, I'm fine."

"The way you're behaving and speaking is making me think otherwise."

"Why? Help me understand what is so bad about my behavior that you're picking fights about it."

Arcee looked at me like I had the stupidest thing in the universe. "Because of that. That right there! You're not acting like you. One klick you're kissing me in public and acting like you don't want to leave my side—the next you're out the door with barely a goodbye; one moment you're sarcastic and annoyed when I come up here to talk to you about your concerning behavior—the next you're perfectly fine acting like I'm the one who was annoyed before. You're not acting like you, and it's like you're blind to it."

"Wait, I'm blind?" I brought my servo up in front of my faceplate. "But I can see my servo in my sudden blindness. How can that be?!"

No sound came from Arcee, and she was glaring at me when I lowered my servo to look at her. "I am being very serious about this."

"I know, which is why I tried making a joke to make you laugh; I don't like it when you're serious."

"This isn't the time for jokes."

"Apparently."

My courted let out a very slow, calming breath. "You're not you. Literally everything you're saying sounds wrong."

"Is it strange and wrong for me to want you to smile?"

"No, bu—"

"Then that proves my earlier claim of being fine is true, doesn't it?"

Arcee shook her helm. "No, it doesn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can feel there's something happening with you that I don't know about." She gave me a look that was sad, searching, and accusing all at once. "What are you not telling me, Shadow'?"

I pushed off from the edge of the entrance to the Warden's insides and checked my internal clock. I sighed when I saw how long I had been talking with Arcee. "Sorry to cut this short, but I need to get back to maintaining this cannon; I'm only halfway done, and Prowl wants me to perform maintenance on the other three, as well. After I'm done here and visit the washracks to wash off the slag I have on me, I'll ask Prowl or Optimus for some free time and I'll come find you so we can finish this conversation. I promise. Okay?"

Arcee's faceplate was an emotionless mask, but I could see the mixture of worry, anger, hurt, and frustration in her optics. "Fine. I'll be in the rec room unless I'm called for a mission. After you have permission from Optimus or Prowl, either come to me as soon as you're done in the washracks, or I'll find you." Without another word, she jumped off the Warden's barrels, landed in a crouch, and walked off to the elevator.

I blinked at her behavior, then shook my helm. Femmes are weird.

As Arcee entered the elevator, I reentered the turret and went back to work.

The hot water ran over me, washing away all the dirt and gun oil that had managed to worm its way through my armor and down to my nanofiber framesuit and protoform. I found it impressive the filth from the turret managed to even get down past two layers of armor.

It had taken me almost a breem to finish cleaning the Warden I had been working on when Arcee came up top, and it took more than four more breems to clean the other three. I had finished cleaning the anti-air cannons only a few klicks ago, and immediately made a beeline for the washracks—I couldn't present myself to Prowl or Arcee while caked in grease and grime.

The last of the sludge washed off my frame, and I began the process of putting my framesuit and armor back on. Once I was decent, I left the washracks and entered the hallway. A turn to the left would lead me to the rec room, and a right turn would lead me to most of the personal quarters, the elevator, and the ops center.

Turning right, I went to go to the ops center; Prowl would probably be there, and I had yet to ask for his permission to spend time with Arcee while still on duty. I couldn't ask Optimus because he and Ultra Magnus had left on a mission while I was up top.

I arrived in the ops center a short time later. Prowl was standing at the workstation, monitoring multiple missions at the same time, going by the main screen. No one else was in the room besides the teens on the Xbox.

I stepped up behind the SIC and voiced my address as a question, "Hey, Prowl?"

Prowl's helm turned half a foot toward me. "Are you reporting for your next assignment, Shadowstreaker?"

"No. I was kind of, maybe, asking for some free time?"

"You were given free time after you finished your shift on the space bridge. Giving you further recreational time after completing only one task since your last break would go against regulation, and prevent us from finishing all the tasks we set out to complete at the beginning of the cycle."

"Oh, come on! We've done tons of stuff in the last few cycles!"

"And those tasks were complete—the goals of the present cycle require just as much effort as those of the past."

"But you give Jazz extra breaks all the time."

"He is on active duty; you are suspended from the field. Those who see combat on a regular basis require greater amounts of recreational time than those who do not."

"And what if I'm part of the recreational time of one of those bots who's out fighting all the time? What if you're dampening their free time by not giving me a chance to be with her?"

There was a pause from Prowl. Then he fully looked at me over his shoulder-joint and asked, "Your request is tied to a desire of Field Commander Arcee's to spend time with you?"

I wasn't sure why he decided to use Arcee's rank in his question—he didn't use someone's rank unless it was written in a report or he was talking to them directly—but I nodded.

"Your request is granted." Then he looked back at the mainscreen, staring at it with the same intensity he had been directing at me all cycle.

"I—just like that?"

"If Field Commander Arcee wishes to use her free time with you, I cannot deny her request; there is no rule or law that allows an Autobot commander to dictate how a subordinate can spend their recreational time, baring they spend their allotted time breaking regulations. And fraternization is encouraged within the Autobots. Go, while the Field Commander still has a considerable amount of recreational time left before I send her on her next mission."

I didn't need to be told twice. I quickly turned around and headed back the way I came.

As I traveled down the hallway, the elevator caught my optic, and a sudden desire to go down to the Safe stopped me in my tracks. I really should have been continuing on to the rec room, but the thought of all the guns down in the armory—all the X-18 Scrapmakers, Thermo Missile and Riot Cannons, EMP Shotguns, and Photon Grenade Launchers—had me mentally drooling. So many guns to fire.

I shook my helm and continued down the hallway, but stopped again after just two steps. I hadn't really practiced shooting in a long time. Between spending time with Arcee and our duties, I had been putting it off. That wasn't a good thing to do, was it? Neglect your combat skills. I was going to be on active duty soon enough, and when I was, it would be a shame if I was injured or worse because I hadn't shot a gun in a while…

Frag it. I'm going.

I stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the Safe. Sorry, Arcee, but you can wait while I shoot some targets.

The elevator reached the Safe, and I stepped out and walked towards the armory. No one was present in the Safe, and given how many missions Prowl was watching over, that wasn't surprising. More firing range for me.

I turned around the corner and paused in the armory entrance. The usual selection of weaponry was readily available on the left side of the room, but the right side was filled with strange-looking weapons I hadn't used or even seen before. Huh. Must be prototypes.

Shrugging off the sight of the odd weapons, I walked to the left side of the armory and selected what I wanted to use: one EMP Shotgun; one Neutron Assault Rifle; one Thermo Missile Cannon; one Photon Grenade Rifle; two X-18 Scrapmakers; and half a dozen ammo crates. Now, I was ready to shoot some targets.

Picking up the EMP Shotgun, I loaded the weapon and scanned for a good target. A fortified wall caught my optic, and I raised the Shotgun and fired both barrels at the same time.

The pellets slammed into the wall and tore open a massive hole, sending fragments of concrete flying in all directions. What remained of the wall collapsed in on itself a few micro-klicks later, kicking up sand in the air.

Chuckling at the results of the shot, I tossed the EMP Shotgun to the side and picked up the Neutron Assault Rifle. Once I had unloaded a full clip from the Assault Rifle into a target drone, I tossed the Rifle aside and picked up the Thermo Missile Cannon.

I kept the Missile Cannon for a while. First I destroyed some tank husks, then a few more walls, and even one of the buildings out on the range.

Eventually, I decided it was time to move on, and I picked up one of the Scrapmakers and loaded it. I went to scan for targets, but then I looked down at the second Scrapmaker sitting on the floor, tempting me.

It would be a waste to have brought two Scrapmakers over here and not use both of them. But, considering how much recoil the X-18 had, a bot typically only used two Scrapmakers when they were in their alt mode—it negated the recoil. If a bot wasn't in their alt mode, then they weren't allowed to use two X-18s until they underwent a short training program that taught them how to adequately deal with the recoil. I hadn't gone through that program, which meant I would be going against regulations if I used both X-18s right now.

… Since when did I give a frag about regulations?

Without wasting any more time debating about it, I placed the first Scrapmaker down to load the second one, and then picked up both at the same time, now bringing a total of twelve gun barrels to bear. This should be fun.

I scanned the range for a target worthy of the destructive power I was about to unleash. The target drones were too boring to shoot, and there weren't enough tanks to be able to go all out with the Scrapmakers. That left buildings. I had the options of shooting mock-ups of bunkers, watchtowers, or the one large building out on the range—the one I had destroyed shortly after I became a Cybertronian.

The large one, it is.

I aimed the Scrapmakers at the building and started spooling them up, the twelve barrels of the two weapons combined creating a loud scraping sound as they spun in their housings.

Despite myself, I couldn't help but yell, "Say hello to my little friends!" Then I fired.

Even combined, the X-18 Scrapmakers only fired at less than half the rate of fire my Ion Displacer did—about three-thousand rounds per klick. But they fired larger, denser rounds of energy, and the result was almost the same.

The walls of the building were shredded apart like paper, support beams were torn into pieces, and whole sections of the structure fell down. At last, the main supports of the building gave out, and the entire building fell in on itself with a deafening crash of concrete and Steel. The middle of the weapons range became one giant cloud of sand, blocking the view of the back wall.

I laughed loudly as the building fell, the sound drowned out by the Scrapmakers until they clicked empty. I need to destroy stuff more often—that was fun.

"Shooting guns instead of speaking with Arcee as you said you would… I'm genuinely disappointed in you."

I jumped at the sound of the familiar voice and whipped around, barely noticing how I felt my bonds open.

There, standing at the entrance to the armory, stood my creators. And neither of them looked pleased; even the bonds I shared with them were abnormally blank.

What the hell were they doing here, as in physically here? What the actual frag?!

I dropped the Scrapmakers and opened my servos wide in greeting. "It's great to see you! I can't believe you're here!"

My excitement, it seemed, wasn't shared by either Solus or Megatronus; their faceplates and bonds remained unchanged.

"We have a limited amount of time," Solus said bluntly, suppressed emotion evident in her tone and the flicker I felt from her end of our bond. "We'll be straight to the point: stop pretending."

I blinked at her, optic rides lowering in confusion. Huh? "What are you talking about?"

"Your behavior," said Megatronus, sounding more serious than I had ever heard him be. "Stop, evaluate what you've done and how you've behaved in the last cycle, and consider if it really has been normal for you."

Wait, now my creators were getting on the 'Are you alright?' train? Are you kidding me? Out of everyone in the universe, two of the Thirteen should know better to side with Arcee and the others. "Like I've told literally everyone who has said something about my behavior, I'm fine. I find it stupid of you to even bother leaving the Pocket Universe to tell me to change my behavior, of all things."

In a movement my optics couldn't follow, Megatronus' staff spun around his servo and whacked me in the back of the helm hard enough that the resulting clang it created echoed around the Safe.

Well, slag. That hurt.

"Your own statement proves that you aren't," Solus said without so much as a flinch, though I caught a trace of emotions that told me she didn't like what just happened. "Think, use your processor. If you're fine, why are you so dismissive of the opinions of everyone else; up until this cycle, you haven't dismissed someone's opinion outright without explaining how their opinion was incorrect. And if nothing's wrong, why are you at times ignoring what others are telling you or asking you? Why are you avoiding conversation with Arcee?"

"I'm not avoiding her."

"Then why are you down here instead of talking to her like you promised her?"

"Because I came down here."

"Why?"

"... Because I wanted to?"

"And why did you want to do that? Where did that sudden desire come from?" Challenged Solus.

I shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to shoot guns again—I've been on a break."

"You would rather spend time surrounded by instruments of war than be with your courted—the one you yourself have thought of as 'Your spark'? You don't find that unusual for you?"

"Well… I just wanted to sho—"

"When did you start to value weapons over her?" Megatronus interrupted.

Whoa, that wasn't right. "I don't value guns more than I value Arcee. That's ridiculous!"

"Then why are you down here instead of up there with her?" Solus repeated. "Why have you found it perfectly acceptable to ignore her questions and abruptly end two discussions with her this cycle, and then blow off even showing up to a third?"

Suddenly, my carrier's words started to hit me with hammer blows, force me to back up. I didn't want to ignore Arcee or end conversations with her. I didn't. I loved her more than I could express—any conversation between us was something I loved. Why had I found some reason to walk away from her or find that I was too busy to talk? Why had I decided to not only come down here, but not even invite Arcee to join me so we could talk? Wh—

I'm fine.

I shook my helm to clear my thoughts, then asked, "Sorry, I think I spaced out. What were you saying?"

Solus' faceplate fell. Her optics were searching mine desperately, like she was looking for something. My bond with her mirrored the emotions on her faceplate, only much more intensely; never before had I felt such strong emotions come from her end of our bond. It felt like a tidal wave crashing down on me, and that was just from her—the bond I had with Megatronus was sending me similar emotions.

A cobalt portal opened behind my creators, and Megatronus sighed heavily as soon as it appeared. He placed a servo on Solus' shoulder-joint. "We're out of time."

Solus shook off Megatronus' servo, bond flaring. "We still have some time, and we haven't convinced him yet. We can't leave him like this—we can't. We ne—"

Megatronus' servo landed on her shoulder-joint again, but his grip was more gentle than before. In a calm, soft tone, he said, "Sol', we need to go."

Conflicting emotions whirled from Solus' end of my bond with her, but a grim acceptance was more apparent than others. She nodded grimly, looked up at me with that same desperate, searching look from before; regret flowed from her freely.

She kept that look on her faceplate as Megatronus guided her backwards toward the portal. They entered, and then it disappeared. My bonds with them slammed shut immediately after.

Now, what had that been about?

"Shadow'," Arcee suddenly said through a comm-link she established. She sounded far from happy.

"Hey, Arcee. What's up?"

"'What's up?' You stand me up and act like everything's okay?"

"Arcee, listen. I—"

"No. You don't get to talk right now. Prowl told me you came to him and got time of your duties so you could come talk to me, and you never showed up. The only reason I'm even talking to you right now is because I'm being called on a mission earlier than expected. But when I get back, you can avoid me, hide from me, and pretend to be busy, but in the end I will find you, and we will be talking about this." The link was closed from her end.

I was left standing in the Safe, puzzlement written on my faceplate. Why was she so mad at me?

A metallic glint caught my optic, and I looked down to see several weapons lying on the Safe floor.

Huh. When were these taken from the armory?

I fiddled with the metal leaves of the artificial flower I had been making, humming a little tune to myself as I examined each leaf for issues that would ruin the flower's appearance—imperfections would not be tolerated.

After Arcee had gotten angry with me, I had put the weapons I found on the floor back into the armory and returned to my duties. I spent the next few breems clearing out storage hangers, checking energon levels for the base storage area, cleaning equipment that needed maintenance, and melting down scrap metal we didn't need.

Although I didn't know why, I had also been on the receiving end of some strange reactions and statements from other 'Bots: an offended look from Ironhide when I tossed a weapon on top of a crate instead of placing it; an exclamation of surprise and a question if I was feeling well when I told Jazz that we should prank Prowl; a long stare from Jetfire just for making Springer bobble his cube of energon; angry glares from the twins when I asked if they wanted to go down to the combat simulator and see how long the three of us could last; and being flat out ignored when I tried to talk to Air Raid and Smokescreen. I mean really, why would they ignore me?

Oh, well. I didn't care about what others thought of me, anyway.

I found a tiny dent in the metal of one of the leaves. I carefully pulled it off and quickly searched for another piece of metal to make a leaf out of. That was the fourth version of leaves I tried making, and each one had something wrong with it. It seemed like no matter what I did, there was always a problem with the flower; I finally had the stem and petals perfect, but the leaves were never right. It was very frustrating to have to redo one part of the flower so many times.

But I had to keep trying. I had to make it beautiful and perfect—just like Arcee was.

"I'm back," Arcee said through a comm-link. "Tell me where you are, or I'll start hunting."

"I'm in my quarters. Welc—"

The link was cut before I finish speaking. Nice to talk to you too, Arcee.

A short time later, three hard knocks came from the door. She was here.

I quickly put the unfinished flower out of sight, hiding it and the Supply box behind my workbench. Then I unlocked the door and returned to my seat, trying to look like I had only been cleaning the parts scattered in front of me.

"It's open," I said, and too late I noticed I had left the box of discarded versions of my flower out in plain sight. Scrap.

Before I could put the discarded flowers out of sight, the door slid open, and Arcee came into the room like a force of nature. Her were optics cold, and her faceplate was set in anger. Uh-oh.

"Why, Shadow'?" She asked, coming to stand about sixty feet away. "Why did you break your promise to me? Why have you been acting so strange all cycle? What is going on?"

"I just want—"

"No. I don't want to hear one more excuse from your mouth. Not one more." She crossed her servos, openly glaring with more anger directed at me than she had used in a long time. "No more avoiding me, no more dismissing me, and no more running away. You are going to be honest with me, and you are going to tell me everything. Now, what is wrong with you?"

I was silent for a while, stunned into it by her outburst. Then, I finally said, "Arcee, I'm fi—"

"Stop lying to me, Shadow'. I know when you're lying to me."

"But I am! I'm fine!"

"Then why have you been avoiding me? Why did you decide not to come to the rec room? Why ar—" She caught sight of the box of discarded flowers, and gave them her full attention. Oh, slag.

Slowly—ever so slowly—the anger left Arcee's faceplate. But it was replaced by things I hadn't expected to see when she saw my failed attempts at making a flower: confusion and uncertainty.

"What are these?" She asked at last, her voice lacking the anger it had been filled with a few moments ago.

"Those are my prototypes."

"Prototypes for what?"

Knowing I couldn't continue to keep the flower a secret without upsetting her again, I reached into the hidden Supply box and pulled out the version I had been working on before she arrived. "Prototypes for this. I was making it for you."

Arcee's faceplate went completely blank when she looked at the metal flower; and when she spoke, it sounded like she had locked any trace of emotion deep into her processor, "What is that?"

I blinked in confusion and looked at the flower, then back at her. What, has she never seen a flower before? "It's supposed to be a flower. I get that it isn't done yet, but is it really that hard to tell what it is?"

Arcee didn't answer. She continued staring at the flower for another long moment, then finally looked at me with optics that were completely devoid of emotion. "Shadow', how long have we been together?"

That was a random question. "A jour. Why?"

"And what led to us getting together?"

"I was gone, and we couldn't live without each other. We were both lost, broken. Every moment we were apart hurt us."

A hint of emotion entered her optics, then disappeared just as quickly. "And why were you gone?"

"Um, are you seriously asking me this, or are you thinking out loud?"

"Answer the question."

I sighed, not liking to bring up the unpleasant memory. "Because we got into an argument. Insults were exchanged, things were said we couldn't take back. Flightstorm and Cyberfrost's ship was in the system, so I left to join them. We floated around for a few mega-cycles, but I found I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter what I did. So, I convinced the captain to bring me back to Earth, and upon my return I discovered you couldn't get me off your processor, either. Then we got together." I paused, thinking. "Huh. Guess I gave a better answer to your last question, too."

If it was possible, Arcee's faceplate became even more blank. "That was the reason why you were gone?"

"Last I recall, yeah."

"You weren't taken by the Paraions so Extremis could use you?"

"Who?"

Arcee went silent for several long micro-klicks. "Shadow'... Why are you suspended from active duty?"

"Well, I did kind of go AWOL when I joined the Apex Sentinel. That probably had something to do with it."

"It had nothing do with how you deliberately activated your Quriomus Protocol on the Hammer?"

I tilted my helm in puzzlement. "What does a hammer have to do with this conversation? And the what protocol? Qur—whatever? What's that?"

An entire klick of dead silence followed my question, all the while Arcee stared at me blankly.

At last, Arcee broke the silence tonelessly, "I need to go." She turned around and left the room, locking the door behind her.

I stared at where Arcee had last been, more confused than ever. First she walks in like she's about to rain fire and brimstone down on me, then she doesn't recognize a flower when she sees one, then she asks a bunch of random questions she already knows the answers to, and then she just walks out like our conversation wasn't even important to her. She hadn't even given me a reason for why she had to leave.

Femmes are weird.

I shook my helm and placed the unfinished flower down on the workbench and reached down to bring the Supply box out of hiding. If she was just going to leave, I might as well finish this before she gets back. If she comes back.

As I reached for the Supply box, I paused when I saw a distorted reflection in a flat piece of metal in the box.

A reflection of a very dark shape near my desk on the opposite side of the room.

I sat up straight, and then turned toward the shape.

The darkest mech I had ever seen was leaning against my desk, staring at me with crimson optics that spoke of pain and suffering and sick joy. Other than the black steam rising off his frame and how his armor was so dark it made mine look white, he looked exactly like me.

"Who are you?" I asked warily, getting up to my pedes and standing in a defensive stance. Everything about him felt wrong, and his appearance was unnerving to me.

The mech tilted his helm to the side in exactly the same way I did when I looked at someone incredulously; however, his optics still burned like crimson flames. "Oh now, Zechariah—you know exactlywho I am."

In a rush of memories, it all came back: the Paraions' capture of me; refusing to help Extremis; the Hammer; believing Arcee was offline; the Quriomus Protocol; my usual self. All of it. And it hurt.

I fell to the side like I had been shot, optics shut tightly as I clinched my helm in a vain attempt to lessen the pain. I collapsed on the edge of the Trash box with all my failed flowers in it, sending them up in the air and all over the floor. I partially opened my optics as one flower fell on me, then snapped them fully open when I saw that what was in front of me was no metal flower.

It was an almost perfect replica of a Cortical psychic patch. They all were.

Laughter. Insane laughter. Memories being pulled from my helm. Pain.

I shook the flashes away and stumbled to my pedes, crushing any psychic patch replica I saw with extreme prejudice. I saw that what I thought had been my closest attempt to a metal flower for Arcee, was actually a psychic patch that had even more detail than the other replicas.

I punched that particular replica so hard I put a hole through my workbench.

I turned and glared at the mech, shaking my helm repeatedly to push away memories that had been suppressed. "What did you do to me?"

He pushed himself off my desk, and instantly the memories and feelings and guilt started weighing me down. I fell to my knee-joints, audio receptors buzzing loudly. No matter how much I pushed the memories and guilt away, and shook my helm to get rid of the buzzing, they just kept coming back stronger than ever.

"I told you I would break you like a little toy. And I did." The mech crouched down in front of me, faceplate only a few feet away. His burning optics looked almost bored. "I must say, you broke much easier than I expected from you, Xel'Tor. A little guilt here, a little beating there, and you're done. I find it unnerving someone of your position can be broken so easily."

I tried to muster the strength to punch the mech, push him away, anything. But I couldn't—my strength was rapidly leaving me.

"Yes. Yes it is. And it will keep leaving you."

I fell completely to the floor, looking up at the mech. I… Wasn't... Done.

"No, I'm afraid you are. Your strength hasn't been serving you well, has it?"

Failures. Comrades getting hurt. Nearly losing Arcee.

"In fact, I don't think anything you have has been serving you well."

Friends walking out of the room when I enter. Same bots ignoring me, furious with me. Alone.

The mech loomed down closer to me, hovering. "You know, I think it's a good thing I'm around."

Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold.

"After all, without me, you would be running around, free to do as wish. We can't have that, with your added strengths as Xel'Tor. We've both seen how it's gone with just you being you."

Endless rage. Slaughter of all things that move. Innocent lives snuffed out.

"I guess I need to stick around for a while, make real sure you're not the one running around free with the Xel'Tor's abilities." His distorted laughter echoed around the room, and reverberated insidemy helm. "I'll just keep hanging onto those."

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

I'm fine…

Arcee stormed down the hallway, each step taking her closer to where she had last seen Prowl in the ops center. She wanted to talk to Optimus or Magnus about this, but with them on another mission together, she had to settle for talking to Prowl.

Her processor was whirling with the implications of what she had seen in Shadow's quarters. Cortical psychic patches. Shadow' hated those patches, had since he came back; he barely mentioned them when she tried to get him to open up more about the Hammer. And not only was his room filled with the damned things, he thought the Cortical psychic patches were flowers. He had denied he had a Quriomus Protocol, acted like he had never heard of the Paraions, and been confused when she asked about the Hammer.

And she could see that he had been genuine in everything he said. Arcee knew there had been something wrong with her courted as soon as he kissed her, but she never thought it would be be thisbad.

She reached the ops center. Raf was operating the space bridge from his computers, while Miko and Jack kept playing their latest game obsession. Prowl was nowhere in sight.

"Arcee to Prowl—where are you?"

"The med-bay."

Arcee turned on her heel and went back the way she came.

She reached the med-bay a few moments later. The door opened for her, and she stepped in. Inside the med-bay, Prowl stood behind Moonracer as she worked at the workstation, staring at a blurry screen. Another group of bots surrounded the two. The group consisted of: Jetfire; Springer; Jazz; and Arcee's sisters and brother-in-bond. The three remaining Autobots who had yet to recover from the underwater rescue mission were on the berths closest to the workstation, with Ratchet lying as close as he could get.

Arcee paused at the sight of the group. She knew Ironhide and her sisters were here because of the bonds they shared, but the others were a surprise. "What's going on here?"

"We' waitin'," Jazz said, flipping a medical tool around in his servo with a bored expression on his faceplate.

"On what?"

"Answers," said Prowl.

Arcee didn't comment on the SIC's answer, and walked further into the med-bay, stepping up next to Prowl. "It's going to have to wait. We have a problem."

The SIC glanced at Arcee. "What type of problem do we have?"

"There's something wrong with Shadowstreaker."

Prowl looked back at the screen. "I know this already."

Arcee blinked, slightly surprised. Then she looked at her sisters and brother, feeling guilt from come their ends of their bonds. "You know?"

"I was with Shadowstreaker when he tossed a Plasma Chaingun off to the side like it was a piece of trash," Ironhide said. "That's a rare gun, valued for its craftsmanship and its quality. Kid knows his guns and has his own Chaingun—he wouldn't do that unless something was up."

"Ironhide shared the memory with me, and I agree," said Chromia. "I had to restrain myself from chasing and hitting Shadowstreaker for doing that to such a great weapon, but I'm here. But your mech's still in trouble with me. Just letting you know."

"I came to the conclusion Shadowstreaker has not been totally himself from my own, independent observation," Elita said.

"Why didn't you say anything to me?" Arcee asked.

"You were on your mission when the three of us began to notice something strange in Shadowstreaker; we could not distract you. A distracted Autobot—"

"—Is an offline Autobot," finished Arcee, silently understanding why her siblings had not come forward before. She looked at Jetfire and Jazz, already knowing why Springer suspected something.

Jazz shrugged. "He said ta me dat we should prank Prowler. Da Shadowster' doesn' do dat. Ah knew somethin' had ta be up as soon as he said dat."

"Youngling was as normal as ever last cycle—well, as normal as he's been since he got back," said Jetfire. "Then this cycle he's off the walls and acting almost as immature as the twins. Doesn't take a genius to see he's not as okay as he seems."

"And you all just decided to crowd into the med-bay to talk about my courted?" Arcee asked.

The only response Arcee received to her question was for everyone's optics to flick to Prowl.

The blue and pink femme followed their example, giving the SIC a hard, questioning look.

Without taking his optics off the screen, Prowl said, "Late last cycle, I found Shadowstreaker standing in the reactor room. He was not moving—he was only standing in the middle of the room, motionless."

Arcee was surprised to hear that, simply due to how secure the reactor room was. "How did he get in there?"

"When I asked, Shadowstreaker provided no solid answer and dismissed me when I pointed out flaws in his statement. He mainly attributed his presence inside the reactor room to the fact the security door would not close and lock, which it would not. But when Shadowstreaker had left, I found the door functioned perfectly. I need to know why."

Prowl's words added to the questions floating around in Arcee's processor. What was going on with her Shadow'? "So when the others approached you with their own concerns…"

"I directed them here," Prowl finished. "What Moonracer is working on is our best chance to find answers."

"What is it?"

"Security camera footage," Moonracer answered in Prowl's place, paying attention only to the keys she was hitting as she typed commands into the med-bay computer. "Prowl came to me last night and asked me to pull footage from cameras we have overlooking the reactor room."

"We have cameras there?"

"Yes, but I can't get anything from them—their footage has been corrupted."

"We've been working on clearing it up," Ratchet added.

"No. I've been working; you've been giving advice as you've been lying on your medical berth, just as you should be."

Ratchet just muttered something unintelligible.

No one said anything after that for a long time. And Arcee was grateful for that—she wanted some time to calm her CPU and the worry her spark was sending her. She didn't like the fact there had been something wrong with Shadow' for an entire cycle and she didn't know; and even if she had known, she still wouldn't have been able to help him until this cycle. She felt like she had failed in some way.

Her sisters and brother-in-spark sent her waves of comfort through her bonds with them, and she returned their action by sending gratitude.

"I got it," Moonracer finally reported, and the screen cleared up and showed the stopped footage from several different security cameras. Her voice sounded relieved.

"Play it," Prowl ordered.

Moonracer hit play, and the recordings started to roll.

At first, the footage only consisted of the empty hallways and closed doors. Then Shadowstreaker entered the frame of one of the cameras. He was walking down the last section of hallway leading to the both the reactor room an open storage hanger; Arcee assumed Shadow' had been working on clearing it out.

For no apparent reason, Shadow' stopped walking and began looking up at the lights, optics narrowed. He looked up and down the hallway in confusion and suspicion, as if seeing a problem no one else could. He was clearly agitated.

Then his faceplate abruptly went blank—completely and totally blank. He stopped looking around the hallway and straightened out, staring ahead with lifeless optics.

He stepped forward with absolutely perfect posture, each step exactly as long as the other. He walked in the dead center of the hallway, no closer to one wall than the other.

He reached the corner, turned with machine-like precision, and continued walking toward the reactor room door. As he approached the door, faint, deep emerald green bolts of light began to appear on his right servo. At first, they were only sparking between his digits, but they spread and soon covered his servo all the way up to his shoulder-joint.

Just as he was about to walk into the door, he raised his sparking servo. A bolt of the emerald light shot out and hit the control panel, and it too was enveloped by the light. The numbers on the panel went haywire, lighting up wildly until the correct combination had been found. Then the light on the panel turned green, and the door slid open.

And without having to break stride, Shadow' stepped into the reactor room. He paused once he was inside, stood still for a moment, and then very slowly turned his helm toward the camera overlooking the reactor room door.

Instead of royal cobalt, his optics were crimson.

All three cameras flickered, and in the very next shot Shadow' was standing below the camera he looked at before, staring up directly into the lens. His optics carried a very unnerving, very dark look in them.

His servo flashed with emerald light again, and the footage became static.

The room was as silent as a grave. Most didn't know what to say, and those that did couldn't stop their CPUs from spinning from what they all witnessed in the recordings. They had not known what to expect to see when Moonracer finally managed to clear up the security footage, but none of them had expected that.

Arcee was right with them in that regard, but she had an additional thought, while Prowl contacted Optimus and Ultra Magnus and Moonracer rewinded the footage to the last frame before it became static.

Whoever they were looking at in the footage wasn't her Shadow'.

... I've said the same thing twice before at the end of a chapter. No more.

I know some of you may notice that the style of writing for most of this chapter seemed rushed and not consistent with how I've written recently, but the style was intentionally done to show that Shadowstreaker wasn't exactly alright in the head.

Since I have finished this chapter, the next thing I will be working on with Fate Calls is the start of rewriting chapters 1-20. And perhaps further. I've been saying for a year that I'm going to rewrite the really, really bad material I wrote in the beginning of my short writing career, and I think the only way that's going to end up happening is if I just start doing it. So that's next up. But don't worry, I will be writing a new chapter at the same time, too.

This chapter's credit song is "Evgeny Emelyanov - Actaeon" This song starts off with a relaxing quality, then it builds to a feeling of a slightly dark unknown, which in turn builds into a dark, intimidating rhythm that fits nicely for the end of this chapter.

Well, time to call it a chapter. Please do take some time to leave a review or send a PM.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you all are doing great. :)

See you soon.