"Do you smell energon?" Skylynx asked, looking up and tilting his helm.

Predaking did not even bother to respond as his tail twitched at Skylynx's comment. Being a predacon meant that they had an acute sense for tracking, and for all the time he had spent beating the scrap out of Bumblebee and spilling his energon, he had grown accustomed to the young yellow mechs scent.

So yes, he could smell energon, and he could identify it as Bumblebee's. The mech's energon had been spilled, and in large amounts by how strong the scent was. It was either that, or Bumblebee was being held in a cell much closer than usual.

"Primus, Antagony is not holding back," Darksteel muttered. "With the way she's spilling his energon, he might have been the Heir after all."

"If he was the Heir, then she wouldn't have killed him, you idiot," Skylynx growled.

"I didn't say she killed him! And don't call me an idiot!" Darksteel roared, transforming and lunging at Skylynx who was in the process of transforming as well.

Predaking stood up, wings unfurling as he launched into the sky and aiming for the opening in the cave ceiling. Once upon a time, he would have performed the same routine in a desperate attempt to escape. All his attempts were foiled. Now, he was free to roam around so long as he had that little device on his chassis that tied him to the witch. He knew the rules if he were to go out on patrol: stay hidden, or eliminate the witnesses.

But he had no intention of being seen. He just needed to get away from Darksteel's and Skylynx's foolish arguments, and the growing scent of Bumblebee's energon.

He embraced the wind as he flew, feeling the powerful beat of his wings as they carried him upward. Up in the air, he was weightless and in control in the midst of careless danger. When flying, he had something to focus on.

Yet alone in the air, his thoughts were loud with memories and disturbing reminders. The actions of the Fiery Femme made no sense to him whatsoever. She had boldly declared that she was the Autobot Heir, and then everything had gone to the Pit. He was certain Bumblebee was the Autobot Heir. The mech's reaction during that day near the predacon graveyard had confirmed his suspicions. So why cause such a fuss over a lie? They had only served to catch Antagony's attention.

Regardless, he still needed them. He needed the numbers. He was not going to spend the rest of his life under the command of a crazy witch who tampered in things she should not. Yet for all her supposed power, she could still not create a predacon from the bones of their ancestors. Yes, she was capable of turning Cybertronians into predacons, but she was unable to create clones.

He could faintly remember the lab he was brought up in. He could recall the scientists who came and went. But the one he recognized the most was the one optic mech, and Dirge.

Dirge was an easy face for him to remember, and Predaking had no doubt that it was in that very laboratory with the one optic mech that Dirge got the idea of creating an indestructible, predacon army.

Predaking refused to be used for such a meager manner. Yet he bought his time, played the submissive role, and gathered his intel. He knew the layout of the base and had memorized every weakness. He knew where the fragile, explosive mines were, and where the weakest point of the mountain was.

He knew everything. He just needed the numbers.

He frowned inwardly, cursing the Fiery Femme for her blunt actions and for complicating matters. He needed them, but he had to suppose that the past hour was his fault. He refused to cooperate with them, thinking he could maintain the upper hand on them. But the three predacons were not like Skylynx and Darksteel, who had been born and bread in the lab as he had. Skylynx and Darksteel were somewhat free to roam around, provided that they followed certain rules and expectations. But Bumblebee and the others, they were taken from somewhere, and they were all trying to get back home as quickly as possible.

He released a puff of air. He might have to rethink his approach towards the new recruits if he ever hoped to gain their trust, a trust he did not want but needed. But a small part of him wondered what Antagony was doing to them, and he hoped that she would not permanently offline them.

His sharp hearing picked up something instantly, and he would have dismissed the whistling sound for the wind had it not been at a higher pitch then normal. He tensed up, his first immediate thought being that of an attack. But he retained his normal speed, alert and sensitive to the shadows around him and the noise he was now aware of.

He cocked his helm to the side and caught the brief glance of a small being vanishing into the ash cloud, yet Predaking could tell that the small being was still following him.

It was a small Cybertronian. Not a seeker, but rather, a minicon. He had never personally seen one before until his recent run in with that faceless mech who had fought with such ferocity. With that faceless mech had been a small winged minicon.

It was that very same minicon who was tailing him.

His first instinct was to blow it out of the sky. Such an act would be so easy, and it was what he was ordered to do. But here he was, alone in the sky with no one to see him pause and rethink his attack.

Very slowly, he turned around and headed back to the mountain that was the base. A quick, subtle glance back showed that the minicon was still following him. If he could, he would have smirked, yet the triumphant feeling warmed him up. He hoped this minicon was connected to the Decepticons, which in all likelihood, it was. Hopefully, the Decepticons, or possibly the Autobots, would trace the location of their base and act on the new information.

Well, he needed the numbers against the witch and her posse, but they did not necessarily need to be predacons.

Bumblebee tried not to panic. Yet for all his trying, he was failing quite miserably. He had tuned out Firestar's promises of treating Sentinel to a slow, painful death, and Smokescreen's words of comfort had lost their meaning an hour ago. In that moment, Bumblebee could only focus on the gaping hole in his chassis.

His optics remained closed, yet he could feel the trickle of energon leaking out of his wound. It hurt to breath, it hurt to move. It hurt to do anything.

He whimpered as he moved slightly, the dull pain exploding once more as he shifted his helm. If it did not hurt so much to speak, he would have foolishly declared that he was the Heir instead.

But the thing was, he found with growing fear that he could not speak. He could not make any sounds other then moaning and groaning.

He heard Firestar screaming. What was she screaming for? Now that he was focusing on her voice, he realized that she was calling for Sentinel. He frowned, trying to understand why she would call for him.

He blinked, trying and failing, to regain his focus. Sentinel. Right. The very same mech who had torn through his armor and damaged his voice. Sentinel would get him patched up if they told him where the Key to Vector Sigma was.

Except, Firestar and Smokescreen did not know where the Key was. He did. And he was in no state to tell them that. It hurt to much to even sigh.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention, and he looked up faintly to see Sentinel walk in.

He strode into the middle of the room, folding his servos behind his back with a calm air about him. "Yes?" he asked simply.

"He needs medical attention," Firestar pleaded, her gaze focused solely on the one mech who could aide them if he wanted to. "Now."

"And I need the Key to Vector Sigma," he stated simply. He narrowed his optics. "Now."

Firestar stared at him desperately. "I...I don't know where it is."

Sentinel did not look convinced as he stared at her. With a final sigh, he approached Smokescreen who stiffened up at his presence. Sentinel reached out to Smokescreen once he was close enough to touch his neck, but he paused. "No," Sentinel said finally after a moment. "A voice box is too redundant." He stared at Smokescreen for a bit. "Maybe a servo. Or," here, he tapped Smokescreen's helm. "An optic."

"I swear to Primus I don't know!" Firestar screamed, struggling against her chains.

"I believe you," he said sincerely.

"Hot Rod has it!" Smokescreen exclaimed, jerking his helm away from Sentinel's eager servos.

Sentinel paused. "What?" he demanded.

"Hot Rod is the Heir, and he must have the Key," Smokescreen said finally, releasing a breath.

Sentinel's optics narrowed. "And how would you know that?"

Smokescreen scoffed bitterly. "Mech can't hold his high grade when a femme turns him down. I just happened to be the unfortunate mech who listened to him spill the beans."

Bumblebee resisted frowning at the statement. A statement that made no sense to him whatsoever.

Sentinel stood up, eyeing Smokescreen thoughtfully. "I will check your leads," he said simply before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Hey!" Smokescreen hollored in desperation. "You promised to give Bumblebee medical attention!"

"He will receive it when I have the facts straightened out about this 'Hot Rod' fellow," Sentinel replied coldly. "And if the information is not what I seek, he will lose more than a voice box." With that, the door slammed shut with a condemning 'thud.'

Bumblebee raised his helm to stare at Smokescreen. "Hot...Rod?" he rasped, spitting out a mouth-full of energon as his voice box screamed in pain.

"Why Hot Rod?" Firestar demanded, glaring at Smokescreen. "He is not even part of the Selection!"

"But he does seem like a likely Autobot Heir," Smokescreen defended. "Even the media likes the guy. They say he's like 'the new Optimus' who will 'steal the Prime title'." He scoffed. "As if."

"You do realize that you just put an innocent mech in danger?" she growled.

Smokescreen rolled his optics. "Relax. Hot Rod's guardians are loaded. Do you even know who they are?" Smokescreen obviously took her silence as permission to go on. "Jetfire and a whole armada of seekers. I swear that kid has grown up with a plastic bubble wrapped around him. Despite not being in the Selection, Hot Rod'll be protected after the attack."

"That was still careless of you," Firestar muttered.

"Hey! I'm trying to buy us time!" Smokescreen shot back.

Bumblebee squeezed his opics shut as he felt another trickle of warm energon trail down his chassis. He tried not to think about the damage done to his body. He tried not to think about the sudden chill that filled his entire body as he slowly bled out. Instead, he focused on what resided in his mind. He tried to grab on to the pleasant memories of his youth, of his family, of Arcee.

His spark clenched, as did his fists. At this rate, he would never see her again. If Sentinel had his way, Bumblebee would be the first one to perish out of those who had survived the hunt on that fateful day.

"Bumblebee," he heard Smokescreen say. Bumblebee hoped the mech didn't want him to acknowledge him. He did not have the strength to do so.

"Bumblebee!" Smokescreen said, sharper than before.

Annoyance laced through Bumblebee, but he finally looked up at Smokescreen with pained fill optics. Smokescreen stuttered for a moment when he was once again faced with the gruesome sight his friend was. Nothing escaped his mouth, and Bumblebee was about to turn away when Smokescreen's increased nodding caught his attention.

At first, he was confused as to what his friend could possibly ge gesturing to. But when he blinked his blurry optics, he saw exactly what, aside from dirt and metal platings, was laying on the ground.

There, in a pool of his energon, was the device Antagony had slapped onto his throat. He blinked once more as he stared at the object. It must have fallen off when Sentinel had torn out his throat, and that was the only logical conclusion Bumblebee could come to. But without the device, he know realized that he was free from Antagony's hold.

But for some reason, he could not bring himself to care as the pain replaced what should have been joy.

"What was the point of creating such a trinket?" Moonracer demanded as she followed after Arcee.

Arcee glanced down at the fake Key to Vector Sigma in her servos. "I am not sure," she stated simply. "Leverage, I guess. If Bumblebee warned me to find the Key to Vector Sigma, then that must mean that the enemy wants it. It is as you said, only the Autobot Heir would have the Key. Maybe they are looking for it not only to gain knowledge, but to easily find the Heir."

Moonracer was silent as they walked. The green femme had stuck close to them all, and it was not out of loyalty now at the moment. Now, it was because of Bumblebee. Arcee's spark picked up speed at the thought of getting him back, of seeing him once more.

Yet her vision was tarnished with the very thought of him dead in front of her, never to see the light of day again.

So instead, she focused on the information she had gathered. She frowned thoughtfully. If Ark was right, and Sentinel was indeed involved, then that meant he was somehow connected to Dirge and was supplying him with weapons to support his attacks. Not only that, but someone was picking up from where Shockwave had left off on Project Predacon.

Her frown deepened. But Shockwave had stated that Project Predacon was incomplete. Whoever had the pieces had obviously broken the code and had somehow turned Bumblebee into a predacon. But who was to say just Bumblebee was affected? There might be others who were alive and turned into those beasts. Were the other predacons who had attacked her victims as well?

This was more than just the work of one political leader who was a turn coat during the war. It was a larger, underground system that was a threat to the people of Cybertron. Sentinel, who had betrayed the Autobots by spying for the Decepticons, was now possibly working with Dirge who was a well known terrorist who had figured out a way create more predacons for attacks.

But if it were true, then what was the whole reason? To destroy an alliance? To destroy peace? To gain the knowledge of the Primes? Or to destroy the knowledge of the Primes?

What did anyone have to really justify killing hundreds of innocents just for the sake of revenge, or power, or riches? There was no justification. There was no reason. It was just madness, and one could not reason with madness.

"How was he...when you found him?" Moonracer asked suddenly, pulling Arcee from her thoughts. Arcee did not need to ask her to clarify who she was talking about.

"He was...different," Arcee said simply, struggling for the words. "But...still the Bumblebee we know."

"Why could he not come back?" Moonracer demanded, voice shaking ever so slightly.

Arcee swallowed, uncertain how to answer. "Because they took him away from me once more," she said, her voice heavy with regret. "But when I next see those beasts, I will sink my blades into their sparks."

"You best do that," Moonracer said bitterly. "Or else you do not have my blessing." At that comment, Arcee shot Moonracer a look. Though Arcee had not exactly been disecret about her feelings towards Bumblebee when Moonracer had lashed out at her, she was just surprised that the femme had figured it out so quickly.

She was both relieved, and a bit wary.

Arcee stopped and turned to Moonracer, coming to a rash decision. "You keep this," she said, pushing the fake Key into Moonracer's servos. "For safekeeping."

She barely caught Moonracer's wordless expression as she turned around sharply as the wide doors were open for her. Whatever she had been about so say, everything she had gathered before her, was stripped away from her as she took in the room before her.

"What is going on?" she asked as she strode in, optics catching sight of Prowl and Soundwave hunched over the computer console while Optimus and Megatron were conversing in low, hushed tones. She stopped when she saw the large screen displaying various maps before them all. The location was the same, as was the live visual feed of a large beasts vanishing in the mountains. Whoever was recording the video stayed a safe distance away, yet was still close enough to give everyone a clear view of the land.

Arcee's optics swept across the room, and it was then she noticed everyone was armed. Her gaze focused on Megatron who was grinning. "A preparation for an attack on a rebel cell," he answered.

Her spark leaped. "Another one?"

"With them stinken beasts," a small, silver bot said with a grin.

"Control your mouth, Jazz," a tall, dark Autobot warned.

"Don't tell me what to do ninja bot!" the silver Autobot, Jazz growled.

"You found the predacons?" Arcee demanded in shock.

"Laserbeak did," Megatron said simply, nodding his helm to Soundwave. She focused her gaze on him, trying to remember when and how Laserbeak could have possibly found the predacons.

Her optics widened when she remembered when Soundwave had rescued her, and how Laserbeak never followed them through the ground bridge. Her spark grew warm at the thought that this nightmare might finally be over.

Yet somehow, she could tell that it was just beginning.