So this is here because i didn't know where to put it in the main fic and it deviated a bit to much from the story line. Anyways, I had fun with this and I like it. Sorry, not really spoilers this time around but meh, pretty much something to tie up loose ends.

Enjoy!

Eight didn't even try to hide the small whimper that escaped him as the heat reached his plating but he couldn't tear his optics away. It was one of those things that would be scared into his processor for the rest of his life, but he couldn't look away.

Watching the only place he had ever called home, the only place he had ever felt remotely safe, burn to the ground was one of them.

Fire and Rescue crews still swarmed the area as the fire burned into the morning dawn. Eight knew that the Guards that had been after Axil had been the one to set the blaze. It was the only thing that made sense. The fire had rapidly gotten out of control and instead of just their place, three other buildings had quickly caught fire as well and threatened to spread even farther.

With another scared whimper Eight shrank back as a bulky mech in fire red paint blazed past, yelling orders to the others still trying to control the roaring fire. He'd already tried to comm the medic to warn him but there had been no response. Worse, Rock, Clout and Sandstorm weren't responding either and he was making himself sick with worry over whether or not any frames would be recovered. Hesitantly he ventured out of the alley but still stayed in the shadows to watch as the fire continued to grow.

The building collapsed in on itself and a shower of sparks shot into the air as he threw his arms up to protect his faceplates. The heatwave slammed into him, instantly burning his paint in places and with a startled cry he fell backwards into the shelter of the alley, biting his lipplate to keep another pain and stress wracked sob from escaping.

He could already feel his thin armor blistering in some places from the heat and he curled up against the wall with a sob.

When Sandstorm's voice, broken and filled with pain, had come over the comm telling him to stay away from the place and that he was sorry, he knew the mech wasn't going to survive. His brother had said the same thing moments before the formech had dragged his badly damaged frame off to the so called medic. Moments later the shot had rang out and Eight had felt their sibling bond shatter in the same instant.

He didn't know what to do. He hadn't recharge since the orn before and he was exhausted. The Elite Guard were looking for them, looking for him. He wasn't like Sandstorm or the others. He didn't have a gang or friends he could rely on. The only mech he had ever trusted had been tossed into the furnace with the rest of the scrap. After all, metal was metal and if energon had once flowed through his crushed frame, what difference did it make to the Elites. It wasn't like he could afford a proper burial anyways.

"Hey, you alright!" A femme's voice demanded and Eight nearly jumped out of his armor, his red optics snapping up to see a red and orange femme with blazing white optics standing in the alley entrance. She was young, maybe just into her final frame like him with heavier than average armor.

But it was the way she easily held his gaze, standing with dignity that caught him off guard the most. She was standing with confidence and a sense of pride that he had never seen before. Gang raps were common in the factories and the femmes there were broken and empty shells from the constant abuse. The only ones that dared to show any kind of confidence were the ones that knew the Master's had their optics on them. But at the same time, Eight knew they were just as broken as the others. The only difference was a flashy paint job.

This femme was nothing like any one he had ever met. She was… was…free.

And she was still staring at him like she expected an answer.

"I'm I'm fine- I'm fine." Eight stammered, staggering to his peds despite the harsh gasp that escaped his vents.

"You're burned." She continued, walking into the alley. Eight backed away from her and tripped, a painful cry escaping him as he jarred his leg and fell. She was instantly beside him and he scrambled backwards.

"Please, I- I- I don't need your help." Eight rasped, scared out of his processor as he avoided her confused optics.

"Firestar! Where'd ya go!" A mech's voice yelled and Eight nearly terminated of spark failure as a bulky red mech appeared in the alley. "There ya went. Hey, who's he?"

"Dunno, he was watching the fire." The femme said, turning back to the mech "You got a medkit on you? Looks like he got caught in that heat wave. His arms are burned."

"Yeah I got one." The mech said before subspacing a kit and walking toward them. He was taller than Sandstorm with thick heavy armor and when he was lit from behind because of the fire, he looked like some towering spawn of Unicron.

Or worse, the Master that had come for his brother.

It was too much and Eight bolted only to come up short when the femme grabbed his arm in a vice like grip.

He spun to her in a panic but despite her strong grip, it was gentle enough that it didn't hurt.

"Calm down would ya? Inferno, back off you're scaring the poor mech." She scolded.

"Fine fine." The mech huffed, tossing the kit toward the femme and she caught it easily as he backed off, leaning against the wall with a crooked smirk.

"So what's your designation mech?" He asked causally and Eight nearly pitched backwards when the femme released him. He hadn't even realised he had still been pulling away.

"48 dash B-" He started to say only for the mech to huff air from his vents in a snort loud enough to make him flinch. If he had any strength left he would have bolted again.

"No no, ya designation. That's a serial number." He said with a slight frown. "What's ya designation? What ya friends call ya?"

"I- I don't…" he stammered before flinching when the femme grabbed his wrist with one servo, smearing cold paste down his plating with the other. The burning instantly subsided as the cool relief spread across his armor where ever she smeared the off-white paste.

"Well I'm Firestar." The femme said, glancing up at Eight with a friendly grin. "Don't worry about Inferno over there, he looks mean but he's a big softy."

The mech snorted again, shaking his helm with a grin.

"I'm…" Eight hesitated. "Eight. My roommates called me Eight."

"Still not a real designation." Inferno said with a scowl, glancing away. Abruptly he turned back to Eight, white optics bright. "I'm gonna call ya Red."

"Wha?" He stammered in complete surprise as Firestar snorted with laughter. He completely forgot about the fact that she had released him and was working on his other arm.

"Ya optics." Inferno said with a one sided shrug. "Only bit 'o color ya got. And it's a pit of a lot better than a number. I know mechs don't like it when ya kind have real designations." He added with a low snarl.

"Red…" Eight mumbled, trying the word out. It didn't sound like a designation. More like calling Sandstorm Tan, or Axil Grey. But at the same time…the mech was right. It wasn't a number and it was the closest he had ever gotten to a real designation. "Red." He repeated, liking the way the designation sounded.

"Was this your place?" Firestar asked, wiping her servos on a rag before falling back on her heels to sit on her legs in front of Eight. It made them the same height instead of her being taller than him and despite the fact he was ready to glitch, it made him just a little bit more comfortable.

The question made his spark stop though and a whimper escaped him before he realised it as he glanced away. Where were the others?

"I'll take that as a yes." She continued, turning to glance at Inferno. "How many lived here?"

"There was… was five of us." Eight stammered, optics lifting just barely enough to see the red glow from the fire on the ground. "I lost contact with them."

"There… there were two frames recovered." Inferno said after a moment and a sob escaped Eight. "Wasn't much left of them."

"Did…" Eight stopped, biting his glossa hard enough he tasted energon to keep from the voice the question he had to know.

"Did they suffer? No." Inferno supplied. "No they didn't. You have any idea who they were?"

"What's wrong?" Firestar asked, cocking her helm to the side as she reached out to him. Eight immediately shrank back, knowing without a doubt who it had been. But had they terminated in the fire or had Ripsaw and his Guard gotten to them first. And if they had, where was Sandstorm! He was hurt but online, why didn't they leave him to melt in the fire?

"They were shot if that's what you wanted to know."

It felt like he'd been kicked in the spark.

"Inferno!" Firestar squawked, whipping around toward the other mech but Eight was already lost in his thoughts.

He knew it was Rock and Clout. They would never have left the other behind and they wouldn't have gone down without a fight. Sandstorm liked a fight just as much as them so he knew without a doubt that that was how he'd been hurt. And since he hadn't been in the fire, that meant the Guard had taken him.

Gory images of torn apart mechs, of towering black frames with energon blue optics and jagged armor, and mechs withering in agony as energon bled from their helms and optics flashed though his processor. Sandstorm was gone, he wouldn't come back. Not if the Guard had him. Not if they ripped his processor apart like so many others.

Another horrible thought was quick on its peds.

If they had fragmented Sandstorm, they would know he helped Axil and the medic escape.

A bounty would be put out for him and he could list the mechs on one servo that wouldn't turn him in in an instant. Credits were too valuable, energon too hard to get and mechs like him were replaceable. Disposable. If he ever returned to the factory he'd be turned over to the Elite Guard in a sparkbeat.

Another sob escaped him and a shudder wracked his frame as he pulled his legs up to his chassis. He'd felt safe there. Sure, the big mechs spooked him but he knew they would never let anyone they didn't know in. He knew he could count on them to keep him safe while he recharged. But now… now he had nothing. Nowhere that was safe.

"He needed to know. Those were his friends that terminated in there Star, he has a right to know what happened." Inferno was saying softly. "Ya ain't ignorant to the slag that goes on around here anymore than I am. Ya don't need a cornier to know those are bullet holes in their helms."

Firestar sighed, slumping before she rested a servo on Eight's shoulder guard and gave him a gentle shake.

"You got anyone?" She asked when Eight brought his optics up to her soft gaze. "Anywhere you can go?"

He shook his helm before his optics glazed over again and his helm dropped.

"Hey Inferno, you think…?" She left the question open ended as she turned toward the big mech.

He shrugged in response.

"That's up to Chief." He said before his white optics refocused on Eight. "I'm gonna guess though that all you did was manual labour."

"I… yes…" Eight stammered weakly.

"Any good with a broom?" He asked with a smirk.

"Inferno! Firestar! If I find you two 'facing in an alley I swear to Primus I'm gonna kick your afts!" A harsh voice yelled and Inferno's optics went a few shades whiter while Firestar gagged loudly.

"Fraggit all Chief! That's like… like kissin' my sister." Inferno said as he walked away. "Star's just my friend."

"Sure she is lover mech. Come already. Fire's finally under control. Star!"

"Comin' Chief!" Firestar yelled before rolled her optics and turning back to Eight with a grin as she stood up. "Come on! The station's in need of a maintenance mech for a while. Chief went and broke the last drone."

Eight winced at the same time she did though when she looked at him again her armor was tight against her frame.

"Sorry, I didn't think." She mumbled. "I know it's not much but it's a job… Chief is sick and tired of dealing with the cleaning drones they keep supplying us with. He said that at least mechs take pride in their work. He runs a tight place."

Eight didn't know how to respond so he didn't. There was no way she was actually offering him a job. Nobody did that. Nobody helped mechs like him. But the medic had offered to help and when he refused the help, didn't force him.

"It doesn't hurt to ask…. I mean… if you're willing." Firestar continued softly, shooting him an almost shy look.

"No! I'll- I'll do anything." Eight stammered desperately. "I- I can work."

"Great! I'll introduce ya!" She exclaimed, grabbing his arm again and yanking him after her. Caught completely off guard by her sudden mood swing he stumbled after her but his optics locked on the still smoldering ruins of his home.

"Hey Chief!" Firestar yelled at a deafening pitch that would have made Eight run for the shadows if she still didn't have that grip on his wrist. He looked ahead up to see a bulky yellow and red mech turn to glance their way and he immediately tried to pull away. Blue optics meant Elite and Elite meant pain. He couldn't do it, he couldn't do this he'd take his chances on the street rather than work directly under a Royal.

"What is it this time Firestar?" The mech asked in a no-nonsense voice but with a distinct tired edge to it. Made sense, the fire had been burning for a couple joors at least.

"Any word on that cleaning drone Iacon promised to send us cycles ago?" She asked, still dragging him forward despite him deliberately trying to slow the femme down.

Nononononono this was a bad, bad idea. Very bad.

"No. And I'm gonna kick their afts for that." The mech grumbled before noticing Eight and stiffening. A scowl crossed his worn features and he gave Firestar a flat look as he crossed fire scared arms over his chassis. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking forget about it. We're not hiring."

"Come on Chief, that's his place that burned down. He ain't got nowhere to go." Firestar said, practically shoving him forward toward the bulkier mech. He froze in place, instinctive dropping his gaze and armor pulled tight against his frame. All he could think of was how much it was going to hurt if the mech struck the fresh burns on his arms.

"Homeless huh." The Fire Chief said lowly. "Can you at least look me in the optics when I'm talking to you?"

Eight flinched but knew an order when he heard it. He forced his gaze up to the mech's blue optics and just managed to keep from dropping them again.

"It's nothing glamorous. I'm just sick and tired of dealing with useless drones." He said without hostility. "That's all you'll be, a glorified cleaner and a couple steps up from a drone."

"I'll do anything Master." Eight mumbled, dropping his optics again as he instinctively fell into flatter-the-royal-so-he-doesn't-hurt-you mode . "I can't go back Ma-"

"Don't ever call me that." The Chief interrupted with a low growl. "That clear? You want to call me by some fancy title, it's Chief, you got that?"

Eight nodded rapidly, sliding back half a step to try and put distance between them. He didn't know what he'd done wrong. He's gaze dropped to the ground again and he flinched when he heard the larger mech shift.

"I've seen enough fires like this to know this one was deliberately set." He continued before muttering a few choice words under his breath and dragging a servo down his faceplates. "Frag my soft spark."

"So we get to keep him!?" Inferno yelled out from somewhere.

Eight nearly jumped out of his armor, arms instinctively raising to ward off a blow. Nothing came and Firestar made an odd tsk-ing sound in her throat as she cocked her helm at him.

"Aw, he's so cute when he's scared sparkless." She said with a smirk.

Again, Eight had no idea how to respond and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around his chassis. Way too many strange, big mechs and no way out. It was starting to get to him.

"Great, now you've completely weirded him out." The Chief said, rolling his optics before refocusing on Eight.

"So what do they call you." He asked with genuine interest. "And don't give some serial number slag. I know what you are but I refuse to call you some number like a drone."

"I vote Red!" Inferno called out and for once, Eight didn't cringe at the sudden attention as the red and yellow mech pointedly looked him over with a scowl.

"I didn't ask you!" The Chief yelled back after a moment and this time Eight did flinch. "And you ain't got a fleck of red paint on you." He added in a mutter. "So what's your designation?"

"Eight s-sir." He said hesitantly.

"It's Chief." The mech said like he's repeated it hundreds of times over. "And I think for once, I like Inferno's choice better. If you're alright with us calling you Red anyways."

He'd been called every curse and insult in the book.

"N-no sir." Eight replied.

"You're not gonna get over that 'sir' thing anytime soon are you?" The Chief asked and Eight shrank back, armor tight against his frame. To his dumb shock the mech chuckled before turning to Firestar.
"Everything under control?"

It was like someone flipped a light switch in the femme and suddenly she was deadly serious, straightening up before giving a sharp nod.

"Everything contained Chief." She said curtly. "Fire only took out the four buildings and some of the surrounding have heat damage but nothing serious. It looked like it was all abandoned property 'cept for the one place."

"Good. Spotlight's gonna stay in the air for a bit longer to make sure it's out. Clean up your gear and head back to the station with the others." Chief ordered. "There's not much more we can do."

"Sure thing Chief." She replied with a smart salute, before spinning on her heel and taking off. Abruptly she skidded to a stop, turning back to Eight with a grin.

"You coming Red?" She asked.

Eight hesitated, looking between the Chief and the femme.

"Go on, I got to stay here a bit longer to deal with Enforcers and the press." Chief said with a shrug before cocking a smirk at Eight. "Less you want to stick around when they show up?"

Eight frantically shook his helm as he took a nervous step back.

"Get going then. I'll see you at the Station." Chief said with a nod before turning in the direction Inferno's yelling had come from. "And someone find him a decent paint job! I'm running an F 'n' R unit not a scrapyard fraggit! I expect everyone to look their best!" He bellowed.

"Yes Chief!" A chorus responded and Eight jumped even as Firestar laughed.

"Come on Red, I'll give you the grand tour." She said.

Eight hesitated, before he started toward her and what might possibly be a second chance at life.

xxXXxx

Red Alert tensed as soon as he saw the scowling neon yelled medic stalk into the compound, a femme at his side. He was already yelling about something but the camera's mic didn't reach that far. Judging from the suddenly unsecure look practically radiating off Optimus Prime, the medic had been yelling at him.

"Something wrong Red?" Inferno asked from the doorway to the security center, a cube of energon in one servo as he leaned against the doorframe.

"I know him." Red replied, ice blue optics darting toward the big mech before locking back on the screens. "I know him from somewhere."

"Any ideas?" Inferno asked and Red shook his helm, forcing his tense frame to relax enough to calm down his friend. His real friend.

"Well, I'm off till next orn, I'll see ya 'round." He said before walking out the door. As soon as it slid shut Red shot to his peds staring at the screen. The mech was in a heated argument with the young Prime and with a huff he stormed off, heading toward medical. Red Alert followed him on the cameras, trying to figure out where he had seen that bulky frame and obnoxious paint before.

Shooting pain shot down his leg as a whip cracking against his frame rang out in the near silence and he gasped, shuttering his optics as he clenched the control consul in front of him. The memory flux replayed in violent, vivid detail and a nano-klick later was over, leaving him trembling as he griped the board. It wasn't the first flash back he'd suffered and he knew it wouldn't be the last. The hot pain down his leg didn't stop and he finally sat down, rubbing a black servo down the back of his leg. It had scarred badly but he'd kept it clean and it had eventually healed. Only the other mechs at the fire station knew about it because his new armor that the Chief had gotten him when he'd passed his training didn't have the same, vulnerable gap like his old armor.

But he'd never forgotten where he had come from. The grueling, dangerous joors slaving away in the factory, constantly having to watch his back. Rock, Clout, Sandstorm and Axil watching out for him. Even though he'd lost contact with them in an effort to keep his past from catching up to him, he'd never forgot about them.

Someone like him getting a new chance at life was unheard of and he knew that as long as he kept his helm down, nobody from his old life would recognise him. Not anymore. His bold red white and black paint job as well as thicker, heavier armor were just the physical signs he'd changed. His confidence had sky rocketed as Inferno, Firestar, Chief and the others helped him get over his fear of everyone and relax around them enough to start trusting them. He finally had a gang and more importantly, friends to call his own.

They'd quickly figured out he that not only did he have an obsession for routine, but an uncanny ability of noticing out of the ordinary things from suspicious activity to short range remote signals. His ability to notice signals extended into the complicated and risky world of coding. He'd taken to the network like a professional coder and within a few groons had taken over the security network for their station house.

Chief was convinced he was some kind of Outlier, Red was horrified of the idea, Firestar said it didn't matter she still thought he was cute, and Spotlight said they'd beat up anyone that said otherwise. Inferno's response was if anyone could get past their new security director.

Problem was, he could only stay hunched behind a terminal for so long and with his uncanny ability to notice abnormal things, he'd been sent on patrol with Firestar and Inferno. He'd been terrified of leaving the safely of the fire station, ironically house number 8, in case someone recognised him. They'd had to drag him out and he'd been shaking on his axils the entire time.

But when he'd spotted a couple young mechs glancing around nervously, he knew they were up to something and Inferno had managed to put out the tiny blaze before it could ignite the fuel cells and explode.

They'd been charged with arson and he'd been started training as a first responder. His past life caused him to throw all his energy and spark into the training, finish top of class two metacycles later. He was officially signed onto the security force but even with all the promotions he was offered as his skill in coding increased, he refused to leave the Station and more importantly, Inferno and Firestar. Even after they finally bonded, they all remained close friends and he relied on them to no end.

He'd forced everything from his past behind walls that he'd never intended to break but now, seeing that medic, everything came back. His life in the factory, his brother, his home burning to the ground, his friends offline, all of it.

The medic had told him that if he ever needed help, to comm him. That he was there for the ones that had nowhere to go. He'd made it clear that he wasn't with the Elites, that he was there for the working caste. The working caste that now made up 87% of Decepticon forces.

He knew the medic had connections to the Decepticons, he knew he had connections to Megatron and most importantly, he was in his base.

Without taking his optics off the screens, he reached for the small button that would start a recorder.

"Log number 47-97." He said outload. "Update personal log. Designation Red Alert, Chief of Security. Civilian medic allowed on base to assist with wounded obtained from the Tower's Attack one cycle ago. Designation Ratchet. Affliction Neutral."

He hesitated a moment before continuing.

"Probability of Decepticon spy, almost guaranteed. Threat level critical. Must be monitored at all times for suspicious activity."