"You look pensive, Autobot. At least, I assume you're an Autobot."

Bulkhead had been bent over an energon purifying unit, tinkering with it in an effort to distract himself, but he glanced up to find a Decepticon hovering close by. Green and silver with bright crimson claws and a torso that terminated in a set of crimson pincers instead of actual legs, he looked even more misshapen than most Decepticons - which, given what Bulkhead had seen of their kind, was saying something. A complex-looking mask covered most of his face, but his eyes were strangely alight with concern.

"You worry about your leader," he noted. "Am I correct in assuming as much?"

"None of your business, 'Con," he muttered, but couldn't seem to force much anger behind his words.

The mech huffed. "I simply asked a question. If you haven't noticed, we're all equals here. Faction doesn't mean much once the Council has decided to make you a hunted mechanism."

Bulkhead was sure there was a retort to that - Bumblebee could have come up with something snarky in half a second - but he was unable to think of one. He settled for shutting the casing to the purifier and pushing it aside. "Yeah, I'm worried about Optimus. What's it to you? Thought you 'Cons hated him."

"You will find that most of us do not hate specific Autobots," the Decepticon replied. "In fact, many of us have a healthy respect for Optimus. More so now that we know his heritage." He extended a clawed hand. "General Obsidian."

Bulkhead eyed the hand as if it were a rust-eater, and Obsidian lowered it. "You needn't be so unfriendly, Autobot. We're trying to be civil here."

"Yeah, well, it's hard to be civil towards mechs who used to shoot at you," Bulkhead muttered.

"Give him some space, Obsidian," Strika rumbled, looking up from tending to Lugnut. "These Autobots don't trust us yet."

Obsidian huffed again and drifted to Lugnut's side, resting a taloned hand on the hulking purple mech's shoulder. "How are you doing, dear?"

Lugnut let out a low rumble and tried to push himself upright. "I'm fine! Let me up so I may stand guard over Megatron and his son!"

Strika pushed the mech flat on his back. "You are going to stay right there. You aren't as bad off as some, but you're still injured. Let the medics patch you up first."

Lugnut grumbled again but obeyed, and dimmed his optic as Strika rubbed his arm with a tenderness that shocked Bulkhead. Obsidian, too, settled in beside Lugnut and caressed his shoulder, not seeming to notice or care that their gentle moment had an audience.

Bulkhead shook his head and turned away, pulling the purifier close to work on it again. Don't stare, he told himself. They might be Decepticons, but that didn't make them zoo mechanimals that he could gawk at for his own entertainment. No sense fragging them off right now.

He couldn't even pin down why the sight of Strika, Lugnut, and Obsidian bothered him so much. Polyamorous relationships weren't terribly common among Cybertronians, but they weren't banned or considered taboo either. And sure, they were Decepticons and Lugnut had beaten the slag out of him more than once, but it was hard to hate the mech after seeing how badly the Autobot guards had worked him over. And Strika and Obsidian had been nothing but polite to him - slag, Strika had even complimented his looks a little…

Oh, stop, you know she didn't mean it, he told himself. She was just messing with you. That's the only reason anyone would ever show any interest in you - as a joke.

His gaze drifted towards Optimus and Megatron… or at least to where he knew they were laying. So many mechs were gathered around the two he could barely catch glimpses of their plating through the mass of bodies. Bumblebee, Jazz, and Prowl were closest, though Rodimus' team and even a few Decepticons huddled in close - so close that Red Alert had to snap at them to back up a few steps and give her space while she worked.

Bulkhead strained to get a look at Optimus, but finally gave up. He figured he could easily push some smaller mechs aside for a better look, but he didn't want everyone annoyed with him. As much as he worried over their leader and wanted to be sure he was okay, he also didn't want to remind everyone that he was a big, clumsy lug. Best to hang back and wait for the crowd to disperse before he approached.

A hand rested on his shoulder - not Obsidian's delicate talons, but Strika's thick golden-fingered hand. "He will recover."

"Huh?" Bulkhead turned to regard her. "Uh, I'm glad for you. I mean… I'm not friendly with Lugnut or anything, but he didn't deserve-"

"I did not mean Lugnut… though he will recover nicely so long as he doesn't get up and do anything stupid." She rolled her optics slightly. "I meant Optimus. Or Orion, which I understand was his name before the Autobots found him."

Bulkhead stared at her. "You care about him?"

Strika tilted her head and raised an optic ridge at him. "The time for us to care about factions has passed. Here, we are all equals. And Optimus is not only the son of our leader, but a fine warrior in his own right. We respect him."

"Even after he beat Megatron and got him thrown in prison?" asked Bulkhead, then flinched, expecting one of them to lash out for that dumb remark.

"He fought for a cause he believed was right," Obsidian noted. "Even if it was against Megatron, we cannot fault him for having courage." He motioned towards Lugnut, who was sitting up and watching his bondmates expectantly. "Come sit with us."

"Uh…" Bulkhead gave Lugnut a wary look. "I dunno if Luggy would like that."

"He would appreciate the company," Strika assured him, then darkened one optic in a wink. "And we would not mind getting to know a fine-looking Autobot such as yourself a little better."

"Uuuuhhhhh…" Somehow Strika had a knack for rendering him speechless, and it took him nearly a full minute to scrape his thoughts together enough to respond. "You're joking, right?"

Strika looked him up and down, then patted his arm again. "You have seen both my conjuxes, right? My view on what makes an attractive mech is not nearly as narrow as the rest of Cybertron's. Obsidian is beautiful, Lugnut is beautiful… and you are beautiful. Do not let anyone else tell you otherwise."

Bulkhead ducked his head, warmth flooding both his spark and his faceplates at Strika's words. He knew he shouldn't be feeling so happy at being complimented by a Decepticon General, of all mechs, but it felt good to know someone found him attractive. And despite her threats back at Kalis, she had been nothing but helpful toward their team, and nothing but tender and careful with her bondmates. Perhaps she wasn't the monster the rumors made her out to be.

Obsidian squeezed his shoulder, and the three of them went to sit with Lugnut as Scalpel worked on tending his damages. Bulkhead knew he should feel weird sitting in the company of Decepticons… but the weirdest part of all was that it felt more welcoming than strange.

"So how long were you going to just sit there and let me assume you were a pet?" Ratchet demanded as he followed the shorter, sleeker mech through the Dead Zone refugee camp. "In front of kids, no less?"

Dominus chuckled. "You notice I didn't let you assume it for too long. Though I have to admit your expression when you learned the truth was quite amusing."

"I guess being here, you have to find your amusement wherever you can, huh?"

Dominus' smile faded. "Believe me… I find very little about our situation amusing. Though I do my best to make things bearable for the poor mechanisms who have fled here. Oddly, the sparklings are taking it the best - to them, this is just another grand adventure."

Ratchet watched as little Sideburn and Firebolt found a ball and began a merry game with a gaggle of other sparklings. "So… Dominus Ambus. Everyone assumed you vanished during the war."

Dominus gave a slight smile. "And everything that was said to have occurred during the war is unvarnished truth?"

Ratchet scowled. "I'm too old and cranky to be patronized, Foxtrot."

The smaller mech inclined his head slightly in apology. "Forgive me, Ratchet. I forget you and your team went through an ordeal to get here. Yes, I stepped out of the public optic during the war… but only so I could serve as a spy among the Decepticons. I took to it quite naturally… a little too naturally, some might say. But though some suspected I might have Decepticon heritage, they kept it quiet, and I was allowed to retire in privacy and comfort. Until Ultra Magnus' edict, that is."

"So what led to starting… this?" he asked, gesturing to the refugee camp that surrounded them. "Did you get a whiff of what Ultra Magnus was up to before he could start rounding them up? Must be some perks to being buddies with him."

"I have not been on good terms with Ultra Magnus for a very long time," Dominus replied… and was it Ratchet's imagination or did he sound faintly wistful? "And no… I was not aware of this gathering of fugitives until I came here myself to seek sanctuary. There were only a handful of mechs here at the time, but seeing how terrified they were, I took it upon myself to get them better organized and settled. Then more arrived, and more… and well, now I'm regarded as the mech in charge." He shrugged. "Not that I fancy being in charge, but if they need a leader, who am I to turn them down?"

"Wait… so you're not the one who started all this?" Ratchet asked.

Dominus shook his head. "Many of these mechs say they were tipped off before their arrest and given enough warning to flee. They refuse to identify their benefactor, however."

Ratchet supposed he could understand that - it would be a slaggy way to thank your rescuer by leaking their identity to someone who could potentially get them in trouble. Still, he had to wonder who was spreading the word. Obviously someone high in rank. Alpha Trion, perhaps? He'd been the one Council member who had seemed disturbed by Optimus' arrest… had his conscience driven him to do something?

"In the end, their identity doesn't matter," said Dominus. "Only that their actions are saving countless lives. One moment, I need to check something."

Ratchet hung back as Dominus approached Cosmos and a large brown shuttle-former who was leaning back against a pillar. Said shuttle-former wore a Decepticon symbol, and Ratchet had to wonder just how the green minibot had managed to bond with a 'Con and keep their relationship a secret for so long. Or perhaps not as much of a secret as they had hoped, given that Cosmos' name had shown up on a list and sent him fleeing here.

Dominus exchanged a few words with Cosmos and the shuttle-former, then patted the Decepticon's shoulder before returning to Ratchet's side.

"Sorry about that," he told the medic. "I wanted to be sure Blast Off was doing okay. He took a shot to the side coming here, and his recovery has been slow. Hopefully with a true medic here, we can have him properly looked at."

Ratchet nodded. "I'll look him over when I get a chance. Gotta make sure our team earns our keep here."

"It's not about 'earning your keep,' I assure you," Dominus replied. "We don't worry about debts here. We simply ask everyone to contribute what they can, no matter how small." He led Ratchet further into the abandoned shopping center, past more mechs setting up tents or refueling or checking on their neighbors. "Of all mechs to have Decepticon programming, I never expected one of them to be Optimus Prime. How did your team find out?"

Ratchet snorted. "By our Prime being arrested and having the bombshell dropped on him while he was in cuffs, right before they chucked him into a cell." Even just talking about it made his oil curdle with anger. Of all the ways to discover your worst enemy was also your father…

"You and your Prime have my sympathies," Dominus noted, shaking his head. "It saddens me to see the Council has become so paranoid. We're all Cybertronians… we all deserve to be treated with respect. Even those who wear the Decepticon symbol, or whose relatives or loved ones wear it."

"Yeah, well, you're not on the Council," Ratchet grumbled. "Those scrapheaps and the mech calling himself Magnus are calling the shots right now. And I haven't liked those shots in a long time… but this is worse than I ever could have imagined."

Dominus nodded. "This sort of thing tends to happen when you've regarded someone as an enemy long enough. Soon it's not enough to fear and hate the enemy - you have to fear and hate anyone who sympathizes with them, or is even remotely connected to them. It won't be long before even mentioning Decepticons in a non-derogatory way in public is regarded as suspect, and is enough to land an Autobot in prison."

"Frag it all." Ratchet kicked a random scrap of trash across a walkway. "I knew the Council was going rotten, but not nearly this bad. Is it actual paranoia, though, or just a power grab disguised as paranoia?"

"It's hard to say," Dominus replied softly, "and in all honesty it may be a combination of both. Paranoia has a way of making mechs hungry for power." He tugged lightly at his metallic beard as they walked. "I must ask… what were your plans for Megatron and his ilk? What did you intend for them when you brought them here?"

"It wasn't my decision," Ratchet replied. "It was General Strika's idea for us all to come here. We weren't thinking beyond 'find a place to lay low until Optimus recovers.' And I have no idea what Strika or the other 'Cons are planning either."

"Hmm… it would seem word of this sanctuary has reached the Decepticons at large. We may see an influx of them as time goes on."

"That going to be a problem? I can have Team Detroit and Team Athenia guard the borders-"

"No," Dominus ordered. "Let them come. This is meant to be a sanctuary for all. To turn away Decepticons but allow their kin safety here would be hypocritical."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "That's mighty dangerous."

"At the moment, our very existence is dangerous," Dominus reminded him. "It's just another danger we must accept if we're to survive. Another question - once Optimus has recovered from his damages, what do you plan to do?"

"Return to Earth, once it's safe to do so," Ratchet replied. "Not all Decepticons are going to go into hiding, I'm guessing, and some just might take advantage of us being here to take over. And the humans aren't equipped to protect themselves against Cybertronians."

"Hmm." Dominus stroked his beard as he pondered that answer. "And you're certain it's going to be safe to return? It's possible the Council will decide to cut their losses and leave Earth to fend for itself… or they may attack themselves to seek out those they deem traitors to the Autobot cause."

"Hey, I'm the one who's supposed to be a pessimist here," Ratchet snapped. "Besides, if the Council leaves the humans to their own devices, that means they won't find us there."

"Unless they hunt you down and the humans get caught in the crossfire?" Dominus countered, then raised his hands as Ratchet tensed, ready to spit out an angry retort. "I'm not trying to dissuade you, Ratchet. I just want you to consider all sides of your decision before you make it. Not all of us hate organics, and I for one have no desire to see any harm befall Earth."

Ratchet growled but bit back his retort. Frag it, the old fox was right - going back to Detroit now would just put the city in further danger. The Autobots, especially the higher-ranking ones, had made it no secret that they disdained and even hated organics - if Ultra Magnus' lackeys followed them to Earth, they wouldn't care if humans got caught in the crossfire.

"Then it looks like we're stuck here for now," he conceded at last. "At least until Optimus recovers and we figure out what the frag everyone's doing here. Because we can't stay in the Dead Zone forever, can we?"

"Sadly, no," Dominus agreed with a solemn nod. "This place works as a temporary sanctuary, but it's only a matter of time before the Council thinks to look here. We'll need a more permanent solution soon… the question is what."

"Don't look at me," Ratchet grumbled. "My last idea got torpedoed."

"It was a good idea," Dominus assured him. "Just not good enough at the moment. And we do have time to figure out a plan of action. Perhaps once Optimus and Megatron are in better shape, they can help us. Optimus is a clever mech, and Megatron is a shrewd tactician."

"Great, we're depending on a Decepticon warlord to save us," Ratchet huffed. "What's this planet come to?"

Dominus shrugged. "You would be surprised what being a fugitive from an unjust government edict can do to help you shed old prejudices. Now… I've kept you from your patients long enough. Do you mind if I accompany you back to the medical center? I'd like to have a chat with Strika, if she's willing."

"Can't stop you, can I?"

Dominus chuckled and transformed to his fox form, and he trotted off at Ratchet's heels as the medic hiked back to the makeshift hospital. There would be time to figure out their next step later, once he'd repaired Optimus and ensured that the trauma of this situation hadn't damaged him beyond healing. For now, he would focus on what he could fix, and be there to help Optimus if he needed it.

Just hope there's something we can do about how badly Ultra Magnus is mucking things up, he thought. And that Detroit isn't a complete and utter mess when we get back. Though knowing our luck, SOMEONE is wrecking the city while we're gone…

A trio of jets screamed over Detroit, the roar of their engines rattling windows and earning looks of awe and wonder from the residents far below. The jets slalomed between skyscrapers, then swooped low to angle in on a city park and the mech that reclined on a massive throne of concrete and steel in the center of said park. Then, in near-perfect synch, they transformed and touched down, saluting as one.

"Starscream," Slipstream barked.

"That's Lord Mayor Starscream to you," Starscream snapped, setting aside the datapad he'd been holding. "This had better be important! You're interrupting a vital meeting!"

"Meeting with who-" began Skywarp, then shrieked as his optics landed on the cluster of humans at the foot of the throne. "Organics! Don't let them get me!"

"Oh, calm down, you ninny!" Thundercracker snapped. "You notice I am not afraid of any pathetic organic insects! Besides, aren't you carrying one in your cockpit?"

That just earned another shriek from Skywarp, and he pried open his cockpit, yanked a green-clad human from inside, and held him away at arm's length like a cyber-roach. The human in question kicked and squirmed furiously, but subsided once he realized just how far off the ground he was.

Starscream raised an optic ridge at his clone's antics. "I take it the mission went well, then?"

Slipstream rubbed the strip of metal between her optics and groaned before replying. "The mission to apprehend the active members of the Society of Ultimate Villainy was a success. We have Fasttrack, Professor Princess, and the Angry Archer in our custody. We were unable to track down the human calling herself Slo-Mo, but without her Allspark fragment we figured she wasn't an immediate threat."

A grin split Starscream's face. "Excellent… most excellent. Take them to the jail and turn them over to the police, then you may resume your search for any other troublemakers that threaten my glorious city!"

"Yes, Lord Mayor Starscream." Slipstream saluted again, then she and her wingmates took off.

Starscream kept grinning as he reclined on his throne and regarded the city council gathered at his feet. "And that, my friends, is how you handle your city's crime problem."

Councillor Edsel, formerly Mayor Edsel, just raised an eyebrow.

"It's… effective," admitted Press Secretary Adrias. "But that's not why we came to talk to you, Mayor Star- I mean, Lord Mayor Starscream."

Starscream's smile faded a little, but he settled in to listen. Ruling this city DID mean having to put up with the occasional prattle from the obnoxious human bureaucracy. But it was a small price to pay for finally having a title to call his own.

It had been almost stupidly easy to conquer Detroit. Once he had won over the Jettwins and Wreck-Gar, freed his clones from the Autobots' laughable base, and convinced the Constructicons to join him, the city's police and defense forces stood no chance against his might. Mayor Edsel had stepped down from his office, and Starscream had declared himself absolute sovereign over the city and established the beginnings of his kingdom on Earth.

His plan had been to tighten his hold on the city, establishing curfews and laws that would keep the populace from ever rebelling. But some members of his personal forces had balked at playing tyrant… and oddly, he had found that listening to their advice had worked to his advantage.

"We've reviewed your plans to build new schools," Secretary Adrais went on.

"Yes, yes," Starscream replied with a wave of his hand. "From what my noble sons tell me, your schools are woefully overcrowded and outdated. If my subjects are going to be properly educated to keep my beautiful city functioning properly, this has to be fixed immediately!"

"Well… yes," she admitted. "But these plans cost money. Money the city doesn't have."

Starscream squinted down at her, scowling. "Money, hmm? How much is your salary, Miss Adrias? Or the rest of the councilmembers' salaries, for that matter?"

"Um… we fail to see how that has anything to do with-"

"Find the funding, Miss Adrias," Starscream snapped. "Perhaps this city should be spending less on luring in tourists or fattening the pockets of its politicians and more on what will TRULY make it the most glorious city on your planet! You can start by cutting your paychecks."

"You can't be serious!" a councilman snapped. "If you do this, you won't have a city council left!"

"Then we'll make do without you," Starscream retorted. "Now get moving! I want ground broken for those schools yesterday! And I want each of them named after myself or one of my finest soldiers!"

Miss Adrias sighed and shooed the council away. As they departed Starscream thought he heard one of them mutter "well, his methods are lacking but can't argue with the results." He decided that remark wasn't worth addressing.

This hadn't been his plan, in all honesty. He would have been entirely content to rule Detroit with an iron fist, making its inhabitants kneel before him and not bothering with any rules and laws that didn't directly benefit him. And if he had to order his subjects to kneel and obey and love him like a proper subject should, then so be it.

But Jetstorm and Jetfire had softer sparks than he had bargained for - evidently being soldiers hadn't kept them from holding onto idealistic notions. And they had argued that Starscream would win his subjects over more by actually taking steps to improve the city than by instating himself as a tyrant.

"The humans would be loving you more if you were being a good leader," Jetfire had pointed out. "If you were helping them and being nice to them! And the humans would be more willing to obey you and accept you as their leader if you were being helpful to them!"

Starscream had balked at that - it wasn't his style to be fragging nice, especially towards worthless organics. But he had agreed to give their advice a shot. So instead of ordering the humans to erect statues in his honor and bow or salute whenever he graced them with his presence, he had set about cleaning up Detroit - sometimes literally.

The sound of an eager, obnoxious voice loudly singing a ditty about "the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota" reached his audials, underlaid with the rumble of a garbage truck's engine. Wreck-Gar was proving useful, at least - he had put the mech in charge of keeping the streets and sidewalks of Detroit clean and free of garbage. The Junk-ion did his job enthusiastically and well… and if he chose to keep the weirdest and choicest bits of trash as keepsakes, then that was his own prerogative so long as he did his job.

He could also hear the clang and roar of construction machinery, and had to snicker. Scrapper and Mixmaster were hard at work too, working to repair the city's infrastructure and architecture. They were the most uncouth and slobbish mechs he'd encountered in a long time, but they were fantastic at their jobs, and so long as they worked hard and without (too much) complaint they could be as rude and disgusting as their sparks pleased.

And there were other projects he had kicked into motion, with help from his clones and the Jettwins. They aided the police in catching the city's criminals, especially that laughable Society of Ultimate Villainy who fancied themself some sort of supervillain group. They took possession of the abandoned Autobot base and turned it into a homeless shelter, complete with a soup kitchen and an employment center. And as much as it pained Starscream to do so, he did his best to be friendly to the humans, making conversation with any who crossed his path and asking them what could be done to make Detroit even better.

He still didn't enjoy being fragging nice to the humans… but he certainly enjoyed the product of his grudging labor. For the humans seemed to actually love him, not just tolerate him as their leader. They didn't bow or salute when he walked or flew past, but they called his name and cheered and waved. The media broadcasts hailed his policies and his efforts to improve the city as the best thing that had happened to Detroit since Sumdac Industries' founding. And if his rule made the city council and some of the wealthier citizens grumble that he was too free with spending the city's money or overstepping his bounds, then so be it.

And he didn't have to order the statues in his honor to be built - it turned out that if you were a benevolent enough ruler, your subjects didn't NEED to be ordered to honor you.

"Look at the little ones, Father!" Jetstorm giggled, pointing. "They are having fun with your newest statue!"

Starscream scowled as he watched the children clamoring all over the latest memorial erected in his image. "Go chase them off. I can't have them scratching it or ruining its polish."

"Oh, but they are enjoying it!" Jetfire protested. "Do not be spoiling their fun, Father!"

Starscream ground his dental plates, annoyed at the suggestion. What right did these brats have to order him around? Still, they hadn't given him bad advice yet…

"Fine," he growled. "But I'm not responsible for any of them falling off and denting their heads, you hear?"

"Yes, Father," Jetfire replied with a huge grin. "So what are we going to be doing tonight? Visiting the hospital again? Handing out sandwiches at the shelter?"

Starscream shook his head. He'd had enough of doing community outreach lately, even if it did improve his image and lead to the media singing his praises again. As much as his ego enjoyed that particular rush, there was something else he wanted to do.

"We're going on a little journey once Slipstream and her trine return," Starscream replied. "And if this journey goes well… we just may have some new mechanical recruits to our forces."

"Ooooooooh." Jetstorm bounced eagerly. "New friends! Who are we going to meet?"

Starscream grinned, rubbing his hands together. "The Dinobots. I think I may know just how to convince that lug Grimlock over to our side…"