Author's Notes: I can't believe how long it has been since I updated this fic! This is one of my best stories, and I've been ignoring it! I guess I've just had so many ideas that this one got overlooked for a while. Well, don't worry folks, we are now back to our regularly scheduled Vehicon identity crisis. Thank you so much for reading and/or reviewing :)

Chapter 10

Individual

Dreadwing took several Vehicons to investigate the mine that had been attacked by the Autobots. Three Vehicon soldiers had escaped, and it didn't take them long to find the body of one of the downed Vehicon troops. That left one unaccounted for, but Dreadwing was sure that it was probably dead.

He found out from the miners that the Autobots got away with almost half of the energon stock they had collected that day. This would give the Autobots a temporary advantage, and that was not something Dreadwing looked forward to telling Megatron when he returned to the Nemesis.

One thing he noticed about the servant class drones was that there were two that always seemed to be together. They were very...friendly with one another, and that alone sent red flags through Dreadwing's processor. Vehicons were programmed to be asexual and devoted only to Megatron. This behavior was obviously a glitch, but were they both malfunctioning or was it just one of them? Dreadwing decided to find out for himself.

He walked over to where the formech was yelling at the pair of miners, and he could hear one of them spouting off at the formech with pure vitriol in its tone.

"Servants!" Dreadwing snapped to garner their attention, "State your designations."

The pair looked at each other in horror. Superiors only asked for designations if they were about to terminate a Vehicon or if it was in trouble. They held each other's servos, and nodded to one another for comfort.

"I am ICN-995, sir," ICN-995 stated with as much calm as he could, "This is ICN-994. Is there a problem, sir?"

"I couldn't help but notice your behavior," Dreadwing replied, "How are you both feeling?"

"Feeling?" ICN-995 asked; confused, "We are fine, sir. We feel remorse for allowing the Autobots to take the energon, but my mate and I are not equipped with weapons. We will try harder next time."

"Your mate?" Dreadwing asked incredulously.

"Yes sir," ICN-995 replied nervously, "ICN-994 is my bondmate. She is also one of our best workers, and neither of us take more than our earned share of energon. I hope we have not displeased you too greatly, sir."

"She?" Dreadwing asked for clarification.

"Oh, here it comes!" ICN-994 shouted in her deep Vehicon voice, "Nobody ever believes me when I tell them I'm a femme, but I am! ICN-995 is my mech, and we're in love! If you don't like it, you can go frag yourself! Sir."

ICN-995 facepalmed when he heard his mate curse out an officer. No Vehicon talked smack about a real mech and lived. His beloved would be melted down for new parts, and he doubted there was anything he could do about it. Dreadwing was armed to the teeth and free to do with them whatever he pleased.

"Guards!" Dreadwing called, and four Vehicon soldiers appeared, "Take these two back to the Nemesis for repairs."

The soldiers complied, and the ICN couple were both dragged through a ground bridge. It wasn't as bad as termination, but ICN-995 knew that repairs could just be code word for torture. He had never had to go see Knockout before, and he certainly didn't want to now. More than that though, he feared what that sadistic officer would do to his precious ICN-994.

PR-35 onlined to see soft yellow light shining down on him from above where he lay. At first he was confused, because the Nemesis didn't have anything like that. When he came to his senses however, he remembered the previous day's events. He was in the Autobot base, and now there were two new Autobots to contend with. Needless to say, PR-35 was nervous about what this day with hold for him.

He heard voices in the distance, and it sounded as if they were arguing, so he cautiously walked over to the threshold of the training room and listened in to hear what the Autobots were talking about. He didn't know why he cared, but he figured anything he learned could potentially be useful to save his plating later.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Prime," The new black Autobot drawled, "It's just that it seems like a needless risk. For all we know that 'Con in there could be a spy for Megatron!"

Bumblebee pointed out that PR-35 saved Raf's life.

"I know, but that could be part of it," Ironhide (yes, that was his designation) pointed out, "For all we know he could be implanting listening devices while our backs are turned!"

Uh oh, should not be eavesdropping... PR-35 thought with trepidation.

"Ratchet believes this Vehicon might have memories of the Golden Age implanted into his processor," Optimus informed the others, "Until we know why, we need to keep him under close surveillance."

Wait, what? PR-35 wasn't sure he understood what they meant by what they just said about him. The Autobots thought he had memories from before he was built? How would that even be possible? He could barely keep his own lifetime's memories straight!

He heard the Autobots' pede steps as they were leaving the training room, and quickly ran back to his berth to pretend to still be in recharge. PR-35 allowed himself to relax and hoped none of the Autobots suspected he had been listening to them. No doubt about it, he was getting too old for this scrap.

Knockout entered the medbay to see one Vehicon strapped down to the berth and another one by its side trying desperately to pull away the restraints.

"What do you think you're doing?" Knockout snapped at the Vehicon like it was a misbehaving dog, "Sit down so I can get to work."

"No, you mustn't do this!" The Vehicon pleaded, "Don't remove her memories, I beg you! We need each other. I can't afford to lose her!"

"Her?" Knockout asked skeptically, "So, you're malfunctioning. You believe this drone is a female."

"I am a femme!" The other Vehicon protested, "I didn't do anything wrong! Let me out! If I were a warrior class drone I'd shoot you dead!"

"Wow, such venom," Knockout chided mockingly, "You really are malfunctioning. No drone threatens a Decepticon officer unless they're glitched. Now, let's have a look at that processor..."

Knockout drew closer to the Vehicons, and ICN-995 had a choice to make. He could allow Knockout to perform the surgery and lose his mate forever, or he could...

ICN-995 took a tray full of medical tools and used it to beat Knockout upside the helm with! Knockout was dazed but still conscious. While he was distracted, ICN-995 pulled away the restraints and grabbed ICN-994. He ran out carrying her, and Knockout growled before activating his comm.

/This is Knockout calling all available troops on the third level,/ Knockout ordered, /I want you to track down and terminate drones ICN-994 and ICN-995./

He knew he was supposed to repair them, but he got so sick of dealing with defective drones that this time he decided to just forget the whole thing and scrap them. Their parts were probably worth more than they were alive anyway. He looked at his dented helm and cursed again. At least those drones would pay for ruining his finish and denting his beautiful frame.

ICN-995 set down his mate a few kliks from where they started. They heard the order same as the warrior class drones. Now everyone on the Nemesis had turned against them and they had to get away!

"Where are we going to go, honey?" ICN-994 asked in a timid tone of voice she didn't normally use.

"I don't know," ICN-995 replied soberly, "Maybe we can go to a new base. Change our serial numbers and dye our plating grey to look like Eradicons. I can be ICN-995.3, and you can be ICN-994.7. We just have to get off this boat."

"I always have admired your creative mind," ICN-994 gushed in an almost lustful tone of voice, "I never would've thought of those serial numbers. When this is over, I want you to figure out how we can make love!"

"Um, I don't think we can," ICN-995 replied bashfully as they continued to search for an exit, "Oh, I know! We can hold servos."

"Brilliant!" ICN-994 exclaimed, "I haven't seen you take this much initiative since we collected all those energon crystals and you waited 3.5 extra seconds before calling for a ground bridge. Oh, I love it when you're rebellious!"

As they ran toward the outdoor hangar, they were suddenly stopped by a Vehicon in the soldier class, and they knew then that they were doomed. Oh well, it was a good plan while it lasted.

"End of the line," The Vehicon trooper quipped as he raised his cannon arm.

"Don't shoot!" ICN-995 exclaimed as he held up his worn servos in surrender, "We didn't mean to disobey our superiors. We just wanted to stay together as bondmates. Could you at least take us to Knockout before we're terminated so that we can plea our case?"

The warrior class drone quirked a brow ridge, but then lowered his weapons and smirked at the pair of servant class drones.

"So, you're the ones, huh? I remember you," The Vehicon chuckled, "Eh, you're not hurtin' anybody. Let's get you outta here."

"Wait, you're helping us escape? Why?" ICN-994 asked incredulously.

"I dunno. I like you guys, I guess," The Vehicon shrugged before directing them down a hallway that led to the ground bridge, "By the way, my serial number is SS-PLX-04, but you can call me 4."

"Oh yeah, you were one of the drones the Autobots attacked," ICN-994 recalled, "So how did you avoid getting scrapped out there?"

"I'm good," 4 replied vaguely, "Okay, now Soundwave is probably monitoring the ground bridge room, so we don't have long. Do you know the coordinates you wanna go to?"

"No," ICN-995 admitted, "But we're flexible. Whatever you want to do, we'll go along with it."

4 nodded gamely and started thinking about all the different places he'd heard about on earth. The only places he knew about were the ones mentioned in song lyrics. He flipped through his playlist to try to find a good spot to hide out for a while.

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

Livin' it up in the Hotel California...

"Okay guys, we're goin' to California," 4 announced, "It's a big place where we can blend in and get lost among the drunken crowds. Who's with me?"

"Do you even have to ask?" ICN-994 replied rhetorically.

SS-PLX-04 ran ahead of them to scope out the area. When they made it to the ground bridge he convinced the other Vehicons on duty that they were being transferred to energon storage area guard duty. They didn't question it. Vehicons that questioned things were usually shot for their trouble. That complacent attitude was exactly what 4 was counting on.

He motioned for the pair of miners in the hallway to follow him into the ground bridge control room. They were apprehensive, fearing it could still be a trap, but they had no other hope than this soldier class drone that was still practically a stranger.

They walked into the room to see 4 was already punching in coordinates for Compton, a neighborhood somewhere in California. They didn't know exactly where it was, but it didn't really matter to them. As long as they could be together.

"One thing, guys," 4 said in a warning tone, "Accordin' to my rap albums, this is a pretty dangerous area. Just remember not to shoot anyone if they scratch your paint. Only if they try to steal your tires."

"Humans steal tires?" ICN-995 asked incredulously, "And they say we Decepticons are savages."

The ground bridge activated, and 4 set the timer for the ground bridge for 10 seconds so they woulnd't be followed. The three Vehicons crossed the green swirling threshold and walked into the unknown world that lurked beyond.

PR-35 didn't know what to do with himself. He considered trying to contact someone from the Nemesis to let them know of his location, but somehow that seemed rude after everything the Prime had done for him. He thought about striking up a conversation with one of the 'Bots, but they all scared him. It seemed the only friend he had on this whole base was Rafael, and Bumblebee glared at him every time he got too close. Given Bumblebee was the least hostile toward him, PR-35 didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his good standing with the yellow mech.

PR-35 thought back to his younger days when he was a new drone being commanded by Shockwave. Everything was so simple then. Attack intruders, listen while Shockwave murmured to himself, and guard prisoners. Back then Autobots were nothing but the enemy, and nobody could prove organics really existed. Now though...PR-35 was so confused.

"PR-35," Optimus Prime called out, and hearing that resonate baritone speak his serial number was enough to make the jumpy Vehicon squeal in surprise, "I did not mean to frighten you, PR-35. I merely wish you to come into the medbay for a moment."

"The medbay?" PR-35 squeaked nervously.

He was familiar with medbays. He wasn't sick, so there were only a few things the Autobots could want with him. They could want to vivisect him to learn more about how to construct their own Vehicons. They could want to interrogate and torture him for information about Megatron. They could want to infect him with a virus behind his back and send him back to the Nemesis. PR-35 shuddered at those thoughts.

"PR-35, are you coming?" Optimus repeated his request.

"...Yes sir," PR-35 reluctantly replied; his voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't know what the Prime wanted, but he also knew disobeying the Autobots' leader was grounds for termination. In this moment he really wished Breakdown was still alive. Breakdown was a good boss and would have protected him from whatever the evil Autobots wanted to do to him. PR-35 had never hated a Decepticon on his life, and what he felt now wasn't exactly hatred, but he really felt betrayed by Airachnid killing Breakdown.

"Oh, good. The Vehicon's here," Ratchet said dispassionately when he saw PR-35 walk into his medbay, "Have a seat in the examination chair. I want to ask you a few questions."

"Oh no...You're going to patch me, aren't you!?" PR-35 wailed in a panic, "Listen, you don't want to do that! My mind is boring! You know what Vehicons do for fun? Nothing! We're boring! Boring I tell you! Leave me alone!"

Optimus stared at the flailing Vehicon in confusion before exiting the room, and Ratchet rubbed his helm and sighed impatiently.

"Vehicon, calm down," Ratchet ordered, "We're not hooking you up to the cortical psychic patch. I merely want to ask you a few questions. If you answer them honestly and to the best of your ability then everything will be just fine. Now, will you stay here and answer my questions?"

"Yes, sir," PR-35 replied timidly; relieved to not have his processor hacked by Shockwave's invasive interrogation device, "What do you want to know?"

"First of all, you remembered that I had an accident involving stairs that broke my hip joints during the Golden Age of Cybertron," Ratchet began.

"That's when that was?" PR-35 asked dumbly, "I didn't know I had any memories from that long ago. How can I? I'm a Vehicon."

"That's what we're going to find out," Ratchet replied, "Now, tell me what you believe your earliest memory is."

"Being programmed by Megatron along with my fellow Vehicons," PR-35 recalled fondly, "It was the happiest day of my life. Of course, it was also the first day of my life. I guess you could say I peaked early. Everything went downhill from there."

"Alright then," Ratchet took a few notes before continuing with the questioning, "Okay Vehicon, tell me everything you know about me."

"Well..." PR-35 struggled to come up with an answer that wouldn't upset the medic, since he still remembered Ratchet nearly melting a lowly servant's face off, "I remember our medic Knockout saying you made synthetic energon. You must be a great scientist."

"Yes, what else?" Ratchet prodded.

"Um...I know you like earth," PR-35 shrugged, "I'll bet you have all sorts of cool souvenirs. We Vehicons aren't allowed to own things. I keep a cleaning cloth in my chest compartment, but I'm not supposed to. I've always wanted to have things of my very own. I don't even know what exactly I'd want. Just...things."

"You're getting off track," Ratchet snapped; his voice barely cracking and almost betraying how hurt he felt for the drone that just yesterday he thought was a mere machine.

If the Vehicon could want things, then that would go toward proving its sentience. The fact that Megatron kept these drones as slaves...Ratchet was starting to feel disgusted by it, but he wasn't ready to let the Vehicon know that just yet. He still needed information.

"What else do you know about me?" Ratchet pressed forward.

"I know you went to a play once," PR-35 offered, "At least, I think you did. I could have dreamt that. There was a purple and white mech, and he was really shiny. He was on stage singing, and the show ended with fireworks. It was beautiful, and you were there. It might've just been a dream."

If Ratchet were human, his face would have paled. He remembered that play. It was called Over Caste, and it was a play about a high caste merchant that adopted a low caste sparkling only for the townspeople to turn on him. The grand finale was when the sparkling receives a high caste upgrade, and his joy was displayed as literal fireworks.

Ratchet also remembered why he went to see that play. The broadcast projector had broken in his home, and Bluestreak was upset because it would take 4 orns before a repair-mech could come out to fix it. After 3 orns without broadcasts Bluestreak was starting to feel despondent, so Ratchet took him to see a play to show him how old school mechs got by before broadcasts were invented. He smiled wistfully when he remembered what a good time Bluestreak had. He had promised to take the little sparkling out to more plays, but they never got the chance.

"What was your designation again, Vehicon?" Ratchet finally asked once he pulled himself back to harsh reality.

"PR-35, sir," PR-35 replied, "Sir, why did you smile? Did I tell you something important? Am I in trouble?"

"Huh? No, you, uh, you're free to go," Ratchet stammered, still lost in his own world, "If I have further questions I'll let you know, and I expect you to respond. Understand?"

"Yes sir," PR-35 nodded briskly, "Only a fool disobeys a medic."

Ratchet probably would have made a wisecrack at that reply if he had been in the proper state of mind to do so. However, this Vehicon was raising more questions than he was answering. Ratchet was starting to put the pieces together after listening to the Vehicon recall memories about him. The drone couldn't have spied on him, or have information from a spy. These memories were from before Ratchet joined the Autobots. They couldn't be Prowl's memories. Prowl didn't even see that play! No, there was only one answer. The Vehicon had Bluestreak's memories. The questions now became how and why.