Transformers: Universe

by murtlewikisam

For far too long has war raged on Cybertron, destroying cities, livelihoods, friendships, and hope. Now, a grave error causes the battlefield to shift. Will their new surroundings bring the beginning of the war's end? Or is the Cybertronian race doomed to fight forever? - an AU of Transformers created by my brother and I.

2. Chapter 2

What is this? An update within two months of posting!? It's a miracle! Seriously though, the reason I don't have a writing schedule is because my muse is incredibly flighty. Too many stories clamoring for my attention. This one is strong as of right now though, so hopefully chapter three won't take too long. It also helps to know so many people like it! I squealed over every review, literally. Also, I learned something new about dialogue punctuation, so chapter one will be updated soon.

This chapter is a bit heavier on the OCs, but that's not permanent. Silverstreak is not really a main main character.

So, a note for you all is what I think about transformers and tears. Optic lenses are made of glass, right? And we all know how much glass hates to stay clean. So, Cybertronian 'tears' are a special cleaning solution for their lenses, and certain feelings can cause it to activate when unneeded.

Is a disclaimer necessary on another chapter? I don't think it is, but if so, the word disclaimer is my disclaimer.

---

-Chapter Two-

The room was large and spherical, and the crystals were huge and glowing the same sickly violet as the core itself, growing in thick, intimidating columns towering all the way to the ceiling. Optimus and his team were feeling very small while they stared up at the core, feeling just as much awe as they did horror. The core was a sight to behold, even when its light was weak and failing. However, there was no time to spare. They were too late to stop the core from being corrupted by the dark energon, but perhaps they could keep it from getting worse.

Optimus cautiously stepped closer to one of the massive dark energon crystals, examining it carefully. If he could find out how Megatron had caused the infection, he might be able to cut it off. Ironhide seemed to realize what he was doing and told the other three mechs to do the same, the remaining team members splitting up to follow the Prime's lead.

There was a bridge leading to the core, but it was about the only thing available to stand on. Most of the bridge's surface area was tainted by the dark energon, so watching one's step was a must. Optimus slowly peered over the edge, his optics following the stalk of the crystal underneath the bridge and into the core. It seemed that whatever had spread the sickness was in the core itself.

Optimus frowned and worked his way over to the core of his planet, scanning its surface for something that appeared out of place. His gaze was soon drawn to what looked like a purple, oozing growth on the upper right side. That didn't look natural. "Powerglide," Optimus called, waving the aerial over. "Do you see that?" He pointed at the growth once Powerglide had gotten near.

Powerglide's optics followed Optimus's digit, widening when he saw what he was referring to. "I do."

"I need you to fly up there and see if you can pull it off," Optimus continued, crossing his arms now that Powerglide had seen the strange thing.

"No problem, Optimus," the aerial replied, firing up his thrusters to fly into the air. Ironhide, Warpath, and Sideswipe arrived at Optimus's side as Powerglide approached the growth, watching their comrade closely with various expressions of concern. The oozy object was cautiously grasped by the red jet, his thrusters whining loudly when he struggled to yank it off.

Optimus's spark leapt into his intake when Powerglide was sent hurtling backwards from his momentum, the growth finally relinquishing its hold on the core's surface. Thankfully though, he managed to recover without too much trouble.

"Set it here, Powerglide," Ironhide said, pointing at a relatively safe part of the bridge.

The aerial said nothing back, but followed the commander's instructions. The other Autobots gave him a wide berth while he landed, gingerly setting down the—upon closer examination—disgusting thing that had been glued to the core.

". . . What is that thing?" Sideswipe asked, staring at it with a disturbed grimace.

"I'm not sure," Optimus replied, moving to take a closer look.

Before he could get too far, a servo grasped him by the shoulder. "Yer not gonna touch it, are ya Prime?"

Optimus looked back at Ironhide and tapped his servo reassuringly. "Of course not. I'm not quite that crazy."

Looking somewhat appeased, Ironhide released Optimus's shoulder and began watching him closely.

Now free to wander as close as he dared to possibly-deadly, oozing, purple growths; Optimus took a couple more careful steps before examining the thing before him with a critical optic. At first, he was worried that he wouldn't be able to discover what it was, but then a certain spot devoid of obstructions to his view gave him the information he needed. ". . . It's an energon pump," he announced, staring at the user interface on its side.

"So, that's how they poisoned the core, at least," Warpath muttered.

"So it seems," Optimus agreed. "It's covered in dark energon, and I can only assume it's filled with it as well."

"How'd they even know how to handle this stuff without—BLAM!—blowing themselves to smithereens?"

"Jetfire told me that Starscream was one of his fellow scientists at Trypticon Station." Optimus turned around to face the core once again as he spoke, debating what else he could do to help the core. "Now that I think about it, I believe he's mentioned that Skywarp mech as well."

"That would explain why he was here. From what I've gathered, he's actually a fairly high-ranking 'Con," Powerglide added, looking over his servos after obsessively wiping them clean with a rag.

"Did y'all notice that he never came back after he teleported off?" Ironhide asked.

"Yeah, I would've noticed if things in the air went back to two against one."

"As suspicious as Skywarp's disappearance is, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it down here," Optimus interjected with a sigh. Megatron's plans were growing more and more difficult to follow and predict. He couldn't hope to guess why Skywarp left so soon—aside from possible cowardice—and he couldn't for the life of him think of what Megatron could stand to gain from infecting the core like this. Regardless, the sight of energy pulsing through one of the towering crystals gave him an idea of how to help the sick core even further. "Everyone, cut down those crystals. I think they're helping the flow of the dark energon."

"Gotcha, Prime! Let's—SHLUNK!—slice these things, guys!" Warpath exclaimed, transforming his arms into two, razor sharp blades and charging one of the aforementioned crystals with an excited 'whoop!'

Optimus wasn't feeling quite as enthusiastic as the tank, but he was no less ruthless when he equipped his energy axe and swung it at the nearest crystal pillar. The sound of the crystals shattering echoed throughout the chamber once the remaining three Autobots followed Warpath's lead, prompting Optimus to dial back the sensitivity of his audio receptors. The resounding crashes weren't the only effect caused by their assault, however. Slimy, purple gunk much like the substance covering the pump coated the surface of the crystals and most of the floor as well, making it difficult to navigate the bridge safely. Thankfully, with Powerglide's ability to reach the higher up crystals, they were able finish off the majority of them rather swiftly with the remaining ones taking only slightly longer.

Warpath examined his blades with narrowed optics after he destroyed the last crystal. "So . . . how do I get this stuff off?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of his goop-covered swords.

"Very carefully," Optimus replied, tossing the other mech a clean rag. As he pulled out another rag to begin cleaning his axe, he turned his attention back to the core. It was glowing a little brighter now, thankfully, but it was still clearly unhealthy. He just didn't know what else to do . . .

"Optimus Prime."

Optimus started when he heard the strange, booming voice say his name, his optics darting about the chamber while he tried to pinpoint the source. They eventually fell on his comrades, who were looking remarkably calm despite the mysterious voice.

Sideswipe noticed his baffled stare first, giving him a similarly confused look in return. "Uh . . . Optimus? Is something wrong?"

Sideswipe's words drew the attention of the other mechs, who were now all giving him concerned looks. Optimus could only blink back at them. "Did you not hear that?"

"Hear what?" Powerglide asked.

Optimus blinked again. "Someone said my name," he explained.

"I didn't hear anything," Warpath said with a shrug.

"Me neither," Sideswipe agreed.

"You sure you heard something, Prime?" Ironhide inquired, squinting at his leader.

"Yes," Optimus answered, suppressing the desire to cross his arms and instead scrubbing his axe a bit more. "Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't. It was very loud." The other Autobots glanced at each other before returning their attention to the Prime, shrugging unhelpfully. Optimus sighed. Maybe the dark energon was getting to him. Jetfire had said it could cause hallucinations, why not make him hear things as well?

"So, what now, Optimus?" Powerglide asked, returning his rag to subspace once he was satisfied that his blades were clean.

Optimus sighed again, glancing at the core. "I'm not su—"

"Optimus Prime."

There it was again. He paid little heed to the confusion and concern that his dropped sentence caused, turning in the direction the voice seemed to originate from. Was it . . . coming from the core?

"Prime?"

Ironhide went ignored as Optimus approached the core cautiously. What on Cybertron? Was the core talking to him? How could that be? He had to be going crazy. Still . . . what if he wasn't? ". . . Hello?"

"I think he's lost it."

"Shut up, Powerglide."

"C'mon, Ironhide, he's talking to the air!"

"No he's not, he's talkin' to that voice. Probably heard it again."

"It might as well be the air."

Optimus tuned out the bickering behind him and focused his attention on the core. Would it answer him? If not, then Powerglide might just be right. "Hello? Who's there?"

"I am the core. The spark of Cybertron," The voice finally continued. "You and yours have done well in freeing me from the dark energon's influence, but I am afraid that your efforts come too late."

Optimus could feel his spark sinking to his tanks. "What do you mean?" he asked, though he had his suspicions.

"The damage has already been done. While my systems can, with proper time, purge the remaining dark energon, it will take many stellar cycles."

His expression became clouded with concern. What was the core trying to tell him? If it could repair the damage, what was the problem?

"To do this, I must shut down, and Cybertron will no longer be able to support life during that time."

It was at that moment that Optimus could feel his spark filling with sorrow. No longer support life? ". . . For how long?"

"That is hard to say. If all goes well, around a few millenia."

A few millenia? Regardless of how much 'a few' was, that was far longer than any Cybertronian could survive without energon. He knew what the core meant when it said that Cybertron would not be able to support life, it meant that the production of energon would cease. It had already slowed noticeably. "What are we to do during that time?" he wondered aloud, not entirely aware that he was even speaking. "We can't stay, not without energon, but where can we go?"

"I cannot say. I can, however, offer some guidance. You must build up your stores of energon while you can, and build a ship. There are other worlds out there that are capable of producing energon, and even civilizations started by Cybertronians who explored the stars long ago."

Optimus nodded. If they could find one of those worlds, then they could stay there while Cybertron healed. One thing still remained a mystery to him though . . . "How will we know when to return?"

The core was silent for a moment, before opening a small hatch that Optimus hadn't noticed. "Come closer," it instructed. When he did as asked, the core continued, "You have heard of the Matrix of Leadership, I presume?" it asked, though it seemed to already know the answer.

"Yes, I have." The Matrix was something that most bots had at least heard of. It was given to the Prime, the leader of Cybertron, but it had gone missing around the time Sentinel Prime took office. Some thought it was Sentinel who was responsible for its disappearance, but then, Sentinel was a favorite scapegoat for most Cybertronians. Regardless, it was heralded as a gift from Primus that was supposed to show who Primus had chosen as Prime. It wasn't always the council that had made the decision.

Light spilled out of the hatch as an intricate container was unveiled. It was spherical in shape, with gilded plating and curved handles on either side, and a small opening on the front revealed a swirling blue energy inside. "This is the Matrix, an artifact of which your predecessor, Sentinel Prime, has proven unworthy. Take it, and with it you will know when to return here."

Optimus stared at the glowing artifact before him with wide optics, completely in awe. "I . . . I don't deserve this, I'm . . . I'm not worthy."

"Our worthiness is not something we decide for ourselves," the core stated, "as we either hold ourselves in too high of an esteem, or too low. Those who are not worthy, believe they are. Those who are worthy, believe they are not. Take it, and let others decide."

Optimus wasn't entirely convinced, but if this was the only way to know when to bring his Autobots back . . . then he supposed he must believe the core. Gingerly, he reached out and took the Matrix into his servos, handling it with care as he pulled it closer.

"Within it is a portion of my spark. So long as it remains, I will live."

Optimus nodded, feeling slightly more at ease with that information despite his lingering dread regarding the news he was bringing back to Iacon. His worry returned however—though less all-consuming than before—when the Matrix began to glow. The core didn't seem worried, not that it had a face to read, so he strove to remain calm.

The Matrix drifted out of his grip towards his chest plate, glowing brighter until it faded from view, appearing to go inside of him.

"Now, you must go from here. Energon will soon grow scarce once I shut down. I wish you all a safe journey. Farewell, Optimus Prime."

Optimus waited a few moments to ensure the core was done before offering a quiet, "Farewell," of his own. He felt . . . strange. Perhaps it had something to do with the Matrix. Actually, it probably had a lot to do with the Matrix. Regardless of the source (he was still going with the Matrix) he felt much . . . wiser than before. However, he didn't have time to ponder his newfound wisdom as he had four soldiers that were likely questioning their leader's sanity. He turned to face them, finding a variety of looks directed his way. Ironhide and Warpath had expressions of inquiry and bewilderment respectively, Powerglide seemed wary, and Sideswipe just looked concerned. ". . . I suppose it would be be redundant to ask if you're wondering what just happened," he stated blandly.

The others nodded. "You feel like sharin'?" Ironhide drawled, raising an optic ridge.

Optimus took a moment to think of how best to phrase this, before settling on the blunt answer. "The core spoke to me."

Powerglide narrowed his optics. "What? Are you sure the dark energon isn't messing with you?"

"Well, we all saw it open up and give him something," Warpath interjected. The aerial didn't seem too convinced.

". . . What did it say? Is it gonna be alright?" Sideswipe asked, glancing up at the core. It seemed at least one mech believed him.

Optimus took a deep vent and sighed. He never enjoyed relaying bad news. ". . . Yes, but not anytime soon."

Ironhide's optic ridge seemed to rise even higher. "Meaning?"

The Prime braced himself. ". . . It has to shut down to repair itself, meaning it won't be able to support life for a long time."

Sideswipe blinked, looking more concerned than he had before. ". . . But that means . . ."

". . . We have to leave," Optimus finished grimly.

"WHAT!?" Powerglide exclaimed.

"It is the only thing we can do, Powerglide," Optimus continued sadly. "Energon levels are already dangerously low in certain corners of Cybertron, when the core shuts down, all energon production will cease. We won't be able to survive."

Powerglide continued to stare at Optimus in disbelief. "But . . . but . . ." He seemed to have realized that he couldn't argue with Optimus's words however, growing quiet.

The others looked no better. Sideswipe appeared completely crestfallen, Ironhide was cursing Megatron's name, and Warpath was slamming his fist into the ground. "What the frag was that madmech trying to do!?" the tank exclaimed angrily, pulling his servo back from the fist-shaped dent he'd left in the bridge.

"I . . . cannot say, Warpath," Optimus murmured softly, his thoughts drifting to the Decepticon leader. "I cannot say."

---

The mood in Hyperious was one of impatience. The Decepticons stationed there had been itching for the command to begin their assault, but it was taking longer than they had expected. However . . .

"—and then he says 'it's about time,' as if he's implying that I'm slow and inefficient!"

. . . Some mechs weren't overly thrilled about their previous interaction with their leader.

Thundercracker sighed. Starscream wasn't saying anything he hadn't said before. It was like the SIC was on repeat, everything always led back to the same major complaint: Megatron was a terrible leader and they would all be better off if he was in charge instead. While Thundercracker could hardly blame Starscream for disliking their leader—

"—does he think he is!? Was he in Forza!? Did he know the circumstances surrounding it!? NO! How dare he claim this was my fault!? Who does he think he is!?"

—he was really beginning to wish he wouldn't do so quite so loudly. His audios hurt. "Oh, he's not anyone important. Just our leader, who's been known to shoot mechs for insubordination," he drawled sarcastically, giving his fellow seeker a pointed look.

Starscream swung him a caustic glare. "No one asked for your opinion, Thundercracker!"

"Well, excuse me for not wanting you to get shot," Thundercracker grumbled back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed sullenly. "Besides, you were the one who dragged me into your quarters to begin with. I'm starting to think you just wanted to rant my audios off."

"You're hilarious," Starscream spat sardonically. "You know as well as I do that Megatron is leading us to ruin!"

"Technically, he's led us into a stalemate," Thundercracker corrected, keeping his actual thoughts to himself. Honestly, the fewer mechs who knew about his doubts the better, and one didn't get fewer than zero. Regardless, even if he did tell someone, it certainly wouldn't be Starscream. The war had changed his old friend in the ugliest of ways until he almost couldn't recognize him anymore, and the air commander was far more similar to Megatron than Thundercracker cared to think about. "Did Megatron say how he was going to send word?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"No," Starscream hissed. "Of course not. That would imply that he actually respects me!"

So much for a topic change. "I'm sure he respects your bloodlust if nothing else," Thundercracker muttered bitterly under his vents.

"What was that, Thundercracker?" Starscream inquired, pinning his subordinate with a suspicious gaze.

Thundercracker started a bit. He . . . wasn't aware that he'd said that out loud. "Uh . . . nothing important," he said dismissively. ". . . You were saying . . ?" Hopefully Starscream was more interested in continuing his rant than his interrogation.

Starscream stared at him with narrowed optics for a few more nanokliks before he finally relented. ". . . All that our glorious leader said was that he would send word 'shortly.' Take that as you will."

Thundercracker inwardly thanked Primus that had worked. The last thing he needed was for Starscream to shoot him for treason. The sad thing though, was that Thundercracker knew he'd do it. They had been so close back at Trypticon Station, and even before that at the University. Him, Starscream, Skywarp, and Jetfire, that was how it was; but ever since Megatron had taken the station over . . . it felt like all his friends had changed for the worse. Jetfire went and joined the Autobots for reasons he couldn't even begin to fathom, Starscream had slowly become a tyrant after Megatron's own spark, and Skywarp had grown so malicious and cruel that he thought causing others pain was funny. Thundercracker, it seemed, had simply been left behind. At least Skywarp still seemed to like him.

He sighed and turned his gaze to the floor. Skywarp had been the one who'd convinced him to join the Decepticons in the first place, but he couldn't bring himself to get angry at the black jet. Skywarp had always been rather gullible, preferring to let others do the thinking since it was so hard for him to do himself, but it got him into so much trouble. Thundercracker had just wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, Megatron was the answer he was looking for, and maybe that was rather naive of him, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the time. Then came Praxus, and all the hope he had was shattered. He could still hear the screams . . .

"THUNDERCRACKER!"

The unholy shriek made Thundercracker about jump out of his plating with a shout of surprise. "Augh! What!?" he asked, frowning hard at Starscream.

Starscream seemed unimpressed with the blue seeker's icy glare. "I asked you where Skywarp is. Twice," he growled, stressing the fact that he'd asked twice with the narrowing of his optics.

Thundercracker gave up on glaring, instead rolling his optics in annoyance. "Who am I, his creator? I don't know what he's doing at every nanoklik of the solar cycle, it's not like he comms me whenever he's going somewhere!"

Starscream huffed. "Well, excuse me for hypothesizing that he might have told you something. It's not like he's been much friendlier to you in recent stellar cycles than he has to me or anything," he stated with a toss of his head.

"Don't tell me you're actually bitter about that," Thundercracker said, eyeing Starscream with incredulity. "I mean, you insult his personal hero at every chance you get, how can the fact that he doesn't like you much anymore possibly confuse you?"

"Skywarp's absurd fascination with Megatron is an extension of his defective CPU!" Starscream shouted angrily, his servos balling into fists.

"And then there's the fact that you're constantly insulting his intelligence when you know he's not stupid!" Thundercracker shouted back, more than a little upset at the silver and red seeker's treatment of his other friend. "How can you not understand this!?"

"I call him an idiot because he acts like one, and I'll stop when he starts acting like he has a CPU!" the air commander scoffed, crossing his arms. "Not to mention all of his immature games and practical jokes, he'd best learn some maturity if he wants my respect."

Now it was Thundercracker's turn to scoff. "Skywarp? Learn maturity? That's about as likely as you learning humility."

"I will pretend I didn't hear that."

"Sorry to interrupt, but you two have got a lot of nerve talking like that right in front of me!" The third voice was instantly recognized by the pair of arguing seekers, a familiar frame greeting their optics when they swung their gazes towards the source. "I am not stupid, Screamer, and for your information Lord Megatron had us stay at the core a little longer than expected," Skywarp hissed, glaring daggers at his superior from his position off to the side, servos on his hips and one pede tapping the floor in an aggravated manner.

Starscream glared right back. "Don't call me that!"

"When did you get here?" Thundercracker asked, pinning his friend with a puzzled look.

Skywarp's optics slid over to meet the blue jet's, the hostility in his expression simmering down somewhat. "Right before Screamer asked you what was taking me so long. The first time. I wanted to see how long it would take before he'd yell to get your attention," he explained.

Starscream's glare deepened. "I swear to Primus, Skywarp, they will not find your corpse."

"Oh, spare me the theatrics, pal," Skywarp huffed. "Anyway, Lord Megatron says it's time to attack, sir."

Starscream growled as he stared down the other seeker, and Thundercracker was starting to worry that an actual fight would break out between the two when Starscream straightened from his threatening crouch. ". . . Fine. I'll need you to—"

"—Actually Lord Megatron has me doing something else right now, and what Lord Megatron says goes," Skywarp interrupted rather obnoxiously, making Thundercracker want to run over and shake him saying 'don't push him!'

Starscream—thankfully—simply sent Skywarp another glare. "I see," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Thundercracker! You're with me."

Thundercracker grimaced and pushed himself away from the wall. "Are you finally going to tell me just what exactly it is we're attacking?" he grumbled, following the SIC to the door.

"Ah, yes, we're going to raze the city of Velocitron," Starscream replied with a cruel smirk. "Leave none who would oppose us alive!"

Thundercracker paused for a moment, a look of sorrow crossing his face. Velocitron? But . . . Velocitron was mostly neutral. That . . . This wasn't right. They wouldn't stand a chance. He winced as screams echoed in his processor, but the sight of Skywarp peering at him from the side made him plaster on a more blank expression.

"Uh . . . T.C.? You okay?" He asked, giving the blue mech a funny look.

"Err . . . yeah, I'm fine." Thundercracker said before hurrying after Starscream. He was trapped it seemed. One wrong choice, and now he was stuck with it forever.

---

Prowl couldn't remember the last time he'd paced so much. Normally, he was perfectly content to sit or stand relatively still while he thought and theorized, but the developments in Hyperious had him feeling uncharacteristically antsy. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. The other officers and himself had agreed that Marcon was the most likely target, but somehow he was beginning to believe otherwise.

"Prowl, what are you doing?"

The puzzled voice had Prowl looking over at the doorway, his expression betraying none of his inner trepidation. "Red Alert," he greeted with a nod. "I am thinking."

Red Alert wandered further into the TIC's office, a small stack of data pads in his servos. "Well, that much is obvious. Why are you pacing? That's usually my thing."

Prowl debated with himself for a moment over whether or not he should share, but decided that a second perspective, someone to talk his worries out with would be beneficial. With Jazz resting on Ratchet's orders, Red Alert would do. ". . . I am feeling . . . apprehensive, I suppose."

"Apprehensive?" the security director repeated, placing the pads on the edge of Prowl's desk. "That makes sense. When you're apprehensive you get antsy and when you're antsy you just want to move which leads to excessive pacing like what I do I mean I'm always apprehensive and I for one also start talking fast which I'm doing now why am I even doing this you haven't even said what's bothering you yet!" Red Alert blurted before crossing his arms with a huff. "Never mind. Ignore me. What's wrong?"

Prowl arched an optic ridge at the other mech. It seemed he wasn't the only one acting strange. Red Alert wasn't usually this irritable. In fact, he looked about ready to launch into one of his rants, but something was stopping him. Perhaps he was more interested in what was bothering Prowl. The TIC, however, was in need of a moment to clear his own processor, so the idea of sitting through one of his friend's rants wasn't sounding too horrible. "I could ask you the same. You seem upset," he prompted.

Red Alert appeared to have been caught off guard by that comment. "Upset? I'm not upset," he stated rather unconvincingly. "I'm perfectly fine. If either of us is upset it's you. In fact, we were just talking about how upset you are. At least, that's what I thought we were talking about. You were saying? About being apprehensive?" he shot back evasively, plucking one of the pads from the stack to examine it.

Prowl stared at Red Alert for several moments while the red and white mech flipped through the data pad's contents. He was internalizing still, it seemed. He'd probably be more willing to share what was on his mind after a little more time. Regardless, Prowl supposed he had delayed his own thoughts long enough. "Ah, yes. I must admit that I am not convinced we have actually uncovered Megatron's true intentions regarding Hyperious."

"Oh? Why is that?" Red Alert asked, glancing up.

Prowl pressed his lips together in a thin line. ". . . I have a feeling. Jazz must be rubbing off on me; it is not often that I am so out of sorts over a hunch."

"So, you don't think he's after Marcon?"

"I did not say that," Prowl corrected. "I just do not think Marcon is all that he is after. You cannot tell me that you are not suspicious as well."

"Of course I am," Red Alert snorted, setting the pad back down. "Literally anything that madmech does could be some sort of diversion, for instance, and would we have any idea of that? Probably not."

Prowl paused for a moment, bringing a servo to his chin. ". . . A diversion, you say?" The mission at Forza did seem like it had been too easy. While the Decepticons had put up a defense, they had seemed to give up rather quickly.

"Of course! It's not like Megatron thinks like any of us, he wouldn't be so difficult to predict if he did." Red Alert continued, seeming to go off on a mild rant. "Hidden objectives, ulterior motives, possible diversions; just some of the things I try and admittedly fail to not think about. I don't blame you for feeling so off about this."

Prowl blinked. Red Alert . . . had a point. Megatron didn't think like he did. What Prowl did not consider as a target, Megatron did. Such as primarily neutral cities in an ideal position.

"Prowl? What's the matter?" Red Alert asked, noticing the TIC's silence.

". . . I know what he is doing," Prowl stated grimly, spinning on his heel to head for the door.

"You do? What?" the other mech questioned, following Prowl into the hallway.

"Velocitron. He is going to take the city and attack Marcon from there," was the hurried answer. He had to get to the control room. "Velocitron's position is perfect for an advantage, but I was not factoring it into my calculations as I do not consider it our territory. However, to Megatron, if it is not his territory . . ."

"It's enemy territory," Red Alert finished with a frown just as they reached the lift.

Prowl simply nodded and stepped into the lift, tapping the command for his desired floor. Red Alert didn't follow, likely because the situation was quickly leaving his area of expertise. The tactician's pede tapped the ground impatiently. How could he have allowed this oversight to begin with? He was supposed to decipher what the enemy was doing and plan their counteroffensive, but he had failed. He could only hope he wasn't too late.

The lift doors opened with a soft hiss, allowing Prowl to continue on his way at a brisk pace. Passing Autobots gave him worried looks as he went by, but none of them actually asked what was wrong. They knew if they were needed, they would be called. The control room was soon reached, and Prowl wasted no time in approaching the console. "Teletraan-1, contact Velocitron, Marcon, Glibax, and the Praxus outpost," he instructed, ignoring the ache in his spark when he said his city's name. He would not allow Velocitron to suffer the same fate as Praxus. He wouldn't.

---

Silverstreak was still miffed about his last conversation with his brother. At first he had been a bit somber, but as time went on that had faded into the background as frustration took over. Why couldn't Comet see that the Autobots had to fight back against Megatron? He was right. Silverstreak didn't get it.

He shook his head and continued down the street, taking a right to arrive at the entrance of the Autobot camp. He wasn't really allowed inside, which made sense, but with how small the camp was a fair amount of the bots usually recognized him when he arrived at the gate. His most common objective was visiting Lockcharger, so all he really had to do was ask if Lockcharger was free, and they'd either send the Autobot his way, or tell him he was busy.

"Hello, Silverstreak! Looking for Lockcharger, I presume?" the femme on guard duty—a large heli-former—greeted, flashing him a smile.

Silverstreak forced a smile of his own. "Hi Skyburst," he said. "Yeah, I'm looking for him. Is he free right now, or . . ?"

"Dunno. Give me a nanoklik," she replied, placing a digit on the side of her helm to activate her commlink. Her optics glazed over a bit while she conversed with the bot—likely Lockcharger—on the other end, free servo settling on her hip. A few moments later, her attention returned to the smaller mech. "He'll be here in a cycle, he says. We'll see how accurate that winds up being," she said with a wink.

Silverstreak's smile turned more genuine at that little comment. Lockcharger was notorious for underestimating how long it took him to do things, partially because he could never stay focused on what he was doing. "I'm gonna guess three cycles."

"I'm going with four," Skyburst stated.

Silverstreak chuckled, leaning against the fence while they waited. "Say, have you heard from your sister at all? I remember you saying that you wanted to get in touch with her."

Skyburst's optics lit up with a little twinkle. "No, but one of the bots in Marcon is going to transfer here soon, and due to supply reasons he and I are just going to switch places. I'll be able to see Stormclash face to face!"

The velocitronian's smile grew a little strained as she spoke. He had been trying to keep his processor off of Comet, but hearing the excitement in her voice over getting to see her sister again was making him feel quite melancholic. Maybe he'd hunt his brother down later and try to apologize for being so prickly. He was not taking back his beliefs though.

It turned out to be six cycles until Lockcharger's bulky and decidedly not aerodynamic frame rounded the corner, giving Skyburst the prize of closest guess. He should have guessed higher. "Hey, Streaks!" he called as he approached, casting his smaller friend a grin.

"Hey—oof!" Silverstreak squeaked, about falling over sideways when Lockcharger clapped him on the shoulder.

The larger grounder laughed, helping him regain his traction. "I swear, you're way too lightweight. A light breeze could knock you down!"

Silverstreak snickered. "Yeah, well, you giving me a friendly thwack is hardly a light breeze, now is it?"

"Heh, you got me there," Lockcharger conceded. "So, whatcha wanna do? Take a walk or something?"

"Walk sounds good," Silverstreak said. "Maybe we can go to Stryker's place; he said he wants to meet you."

"Sounds like a plan. Which way is it?"

"Left. See you, Skyburst!" Silverstreak gave the chopper a quick wave before leading his friend down the street.

"Later!" she called back.

"So, is Stryker a velocitronian like you, or did he migrate over here because of the war?" Lockcharger asked, folding his servos behind his helm in a relaxed fashion as he followed the smaller bot.

"Nah, he's a native," Silverstreak answered. "He's usually the one I'm racing with at the track."

"Ah. So, who wins?" Silverstreak glanced over, finding a cheeky smirk on the other mech's face to accompany his question. "You or Stryker?"

The sports car donned a youngling-esq pout. "Stryker, usually. But mark my words, one of these solar cycles, I'm gonna beat him."

Lockcharger chuckled. "Got a friendly rivalry going on then, don't you? I should watch you two sometime. Primus knows it's the only taste of speed I'll ever get." He paused for a moment before giving him an inquisitive look. "He gonna be cool with us just showing up with no warning?"

Now it was Silverstreak's turn to laugh. "Totally. He told me, and I quote: 'Swing by whenever, with or without warning. It's the only thing that keeps me sane and not processor-numbingly bored.' He'll be thrilled to see us, regardless of how much he may have been exaggerating at the time."

"Heh, well, if he's that desperate I can't say no."

"Desperate is a good way to describe it. With the circuit shut down, he's going stir-crazy."

"Kinda like your brother, huh?" Lockcharger said with amusement, nudging Silverstreak in the arm.

Silverstreak couldn't help the way his smile again grew a bit forced at the mention of his brother. ". . . Kind of, I guess. Comet's restless for . . . other reasons though."

". . . Ooookay. What's with the downer brooding face?" the larger mech asked, crossing his arms and coming to a stop.

Just like that, Silverstreak's face was once again adorned with an indignant pout. "I do not have a brooding face!"

"Yes you do. It looks like this." His friend schooled his own expression into one of mild concern, with a sprinkling of melancholy.

Silverstreak huffed and placed his servos on his hips. "I don't believe you."

"Brood in front of a mirror sometime and you'll see that I'm right," Lockcharger teased. "Now, seriously, what's the matter?"

The velocitronian let out a put-upon sigh before giving up. It seemed he might as well wear a sign saying 'I'm upset' with how quickly everyone was finding him out. "Fine, fine. Comet and I butted helms a bit last solar cycle, okay? You happy?" he relented.

"Well, that explains why you got all mumble-y when I brought him up," Lockcharger muttered. "What happened?"

"Well . . ." That question earned Lockcharger a nervous glance. If he himself took it so personally, how would Lockcharger respond to Comet's apparent apathy towards Autobot lives? "He . . . um . . . Y'know, this . . . kinda ties into why you haven't met my brother," he mumbled, or continued to mumble, according to the other mech.

Lockcharger raised an optic ridge. "Oh?"

". . . Yeah," Silverstreak sighed. "See . . . he said that he hoped 'one side' would wipe out the other so the war would be over, and when I pointed out that he hadn't specified which side, he said 'what's the difference?' like he didn't care. Because he doesn't care. Things sort of . . . escalated a bit from there. He said you all should have let Megatron just do what he wanted."

The Autobot was quiet for quite a time after he finished, which did nothing to calm his sensory nodes. Was he angry? Silverstreak had never seen Lockcharger angry before, so he had nothing to compare his behavior to. When the other mech finally spoke however, it wasn't with anger, but a sort of reluctant understanding. ". . . I get where he's coming from," he admitted quietly, startling his younger companion.

"What?" Silverstreak asked, throwing the larger mech a baffled look.

"I do," Lockcharger affirmed with a morose shrug. "It's easy to look at a conflict from the outside and think up ways it could have been handled better. I used to do that myself." His gaze drifted off to the side. "I figured out how wrong I was when my city was destroyed. The Decepticons, they leveled the place. When the Autobots arrived, they did their best to help us, and that's when I started to see the difference. It comes from Optimus Prime's principles as opposed to Megatron's. Optimus Prime won't make anyone fight who doesn't want to, but Megatron views anyone—even neutrals—who aren't Decepticons as the enemy and gives orders accordingly." He looked back at Silverstreak with a grim expression. "As for staying out of Megatron's business, you can't let a tyrant do as he wishes. Nothing good will ever come of that. Comet might come around one solar cycle, or he might not. Just don't let it get to you."

Silverstreak bit his lip and looked down at his pedes. "You . . . you thought like that too?"

"I did. I'm pretty sure most of the neutrals in this city do too."

Silverstreak indulged in a short, humorless laugh. "I guess that explains the dirty looks I've been getting around town."

Lockcharger smirked. "You've been hanging out with me too much. Now you're branded as a wretched Autobot-lover." He gave the smaller bot a playful smack on the back, chuckling when the action caused Silverstreak to stumble forward with a yelp. "So, I think we've kept your friend waiting long enough, at least, that's what I'd say if he knew we were coming," he said, a more cheerful tone to his voice, though not quite to the same extent as before. "Now, c'mon lightweight, we've got a racer to save from boredom."

"Ow . . . right."

---

The Decepticon forces were abuzz with anticipation as they made their way out of Hyperious and towards their target: the hapless city of Velocitron. As usual, their orders were to kill everyone who wouldn't join them, which made certain mechs very excited. The upcoming slaughter fest would be the highlight of their solar cycle.

It made Thundercracker sick.

The Seeker Corps—otherwise known as the Decepticons' aerial forces—had left at the same time as their ground-bound allies, but were making much better time due to their superior speed. The plan was to begin the attack with an aerial assault anyway, strafing the streets from above while the larger aerials bombed the buildings, so it was hardly a problem, but the closer they got to the city, the worse Thundercracker felt.

He had been part of enough of these attacks to know how it was going to go down, and 'slaughter fest' was an appropriate description. From what he understood, the Autobot presence in Velocitron was small, massively outnumbered by the neutrals that had fled there for safety. He also knew that they stayed near the outskirts of the city so the neutrals would be happy, and likely also to encourage any conflict to take place there rather than the city center.

They didn't know Megatron very well.

The Decepticon leader seemed almost personally offended by anyone who called themselves 'neutral,' calling them complacent and weak. Thundercracker merely saw them as bots who wanted to stay out of the violence, regardless of how they felt about the caste system and government that had started this whole mess.

Dragging himself out of his increasingly depressed musings, he turned his attention to the seeker who was taking Skywarp's place in Starscream's trine formation. He believed his name was Hotlink, and he swore he remembered him from somewhere, possibly Trypticon Station but he couldn't be sure. Whatever his name was, he couldn't bring himself to think of him as the trine's left wing. That was Skywarp's position. Still, Skywarp was busy doing whatever it was that Megatron wanted him to do, so a replacement was necessary. Seekers always flew in threes, it helped their communication and effectiveness. Unfortunately . . .

::—and get closer! Primus, what are you, an amateur!? Correct your flight speed at once!::

. . . Starscream seemed determined to bite the other seeker's head off when he was proving—Primus forbid—less in sync with them than Skywarp. What a shocker, if by shocker you meant totally obvious and to be expected. Of course Hotlink was having trouble; Skywarp, Starscream, and himself had been a trine for stellar cycles and had ages to grow acclimated to the others' flight patterns and styles. Hotlink had a megacycle.

Thundercracker sighed, and decided to try and talk some sense into the commander. This would either go well, or accomplish nothing. There was no in-between with Starscream. ::Starscream, he's not Skywarp. Cut him some slack:: he reasoned, using the most neutral voice he could muster.

::Stay out of this, Thundercracker! I will not allow some dimwitted insecticon to hinder my effectiveness!::

The blue seeker cringed. Insecticon? That was like saying the purple jet had no CPU. Frankly, he was surprised Starscream hadn't used the insult on Skywarp yet, when he thought about it. ::He's only been flying with us for a megacycle, he needs time to—::

::Time I don't have! He will figure out how to fly properly or so help me Primus I'll tear off his wings and feed him to a swarm of scraplets!:: Starscream yelled, and while it was hard to tell in their jet forms, it seemed like Hotlink shrank back a bit.

He knew what was going on. Starscream was still furious about the reaming he'd received from Megatron, as well as Skywarp's own words, and he was taking it out on Hotlink. That poor unfortunate mech. ::You're being unreasonable.:: Thundercracker was fairly certain that Starscream wouldn't lose it and shoot him. The last thing the air commander needed was to replace another part of his trine.

::And you're being impertinent!:: Starscream shot back.

Hotlink opted (wisely) to stay out of the discussion.

::I thought I'd point out the obvious, since you obviously don't care enough to notice it for yourself:: Thundercracker continued. He was purposefully trying to be a bit more obnoxious as, if he could be annoying enough, Starscream might direct his fury on him instead. It wouldn't be the first time he was Starscream's verbal punching bag, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

::Do you want to get thrown in the brig for insubordination?:: Starscream hissed, and Thundercracker could swear he felt the other jet's glare.

::Fine. Throw me in the brig later. See if I care. It'll probably give me some peace and quiet,:: the blue seeker grumbled. He didn't really think Starscream would follow through, mostly because of the point he just made. Besides, his commander would be in a much better mood once he took out his anger on the Autobots. 'And the neutrals,' he reminded himself. His gaze drifted back to the horizon while his plan took effect, the grey and red seeker barking something at him venomously. Most likely regarding how he'd make Thundercracker's stay in the brig a miserable one. In the distance, several towering spires began to creep into view. ::Is that it?:: he asked, stopping Starscream's loud tirade.

::. . . Yes, it is:: Starscream replied with a huff before switching from the trine comm to the one belonging to the entire squadron. ::Attention, troops, target is approximately 30 hics straight ahead. Split up on arrival and strafe the streets without mercy. Am I understood?::

A chorus of 'yes sir!'s followed the instructions, enough so that it was highly unlikely Starscream heard Thundercracker's own miserable affirmation. His spark sank even further the closer they got to the city, and in his CPU, he was hoping the Autobots had heard them coming and started an evacuation. Killing Autobots, he could live with. Killing neutrals however?

He tried to suppress the memories of terrified screams as he readied his weapons.

---

As expected, Stryker had been utterly ecstatic when he opened his door to find Silverstreak and Lockcharger waiting outside, and was even more excited when Lockcharger had suggested they go to the track. It seemed he really wanted to watch them race.

Silverstreak was in much better spirits now that he was off to his favorite place with his two best friends, a bounce in his step as the small group made their merry way to the criminally underused racetrack. Sure the circuit was shut down, but you'd think other racers would be going nuts from doing nothing just like Stryker. Maybe they were just avoiding the 'Autobot lover.'

To make his solar cycle even better, Stryker and Lockcharger seemed to be hitting it off pretty well. "So, I hear you're usually the one winning these things," Lockcharger said nonchalantly, but Silverstreak totally caught the sly smirk on the other's face.

"That I am," Stryker replied with a chuckle.

Silverstreak was beginning to suspect that part of the reason that they got along so well was their shared love of teasing him. "Hey, you're only beating me by, like, one nanoklik at most," He huffed, feeling the need to defend his reputation.

"So? One nanoklik faster is still faster," Stryker retorted smugly. "I will concede though that he has been harder to beat lately."

"Thank you," the silver mech said, crossing his arms triumphantly. "Like I said, 'Charger, I'll beat him sooner or later."

"Yeah, let's go with 'later,' 'kay? I'm not giving up my crown that easy."

"You wish. That crown is mine."

"Ha! I called it!" Lockcharger interjected into the conversation that was quickly heading into trash talk territory. "You two are totally rivals! This should be exciting!"

"Glad to hear you're looking forward to this," Stryker laughed, casting the Autobot an amused grin.

"Oh, believe me, I am. I've heard of how wild the races get here," Lockcharger said before slowing to a stop. "Oh, uh, hung on a nanoklik, I've got to take this. A comm from base," he explained, before his optics glazed over.

Stryker and Silverstreak looked at each other and shrugged. "'Kay. We can wait," the former said.

The latter, however, started to feel a little concerned when Lockcharger's expression turned into one of worry. "Uh . . . 'Charger?" he whispered, his concern starting to turn into dread. When Lockcharger finally returned his attention to the pair of velocitronians, a distant noise distracted the youngest from his original question. ". . . What's that noise?"

Stryker's face twisted into one of befuddlement. "Sounds like engines."

Before either of them could speculate further, they found themselves roughly grabbed by their larger companion and yanked off the street, then thrown under a large overhang. Before either of them could ask him what the slag he was doing, the strange noise became a loud roar as the ground where they had been standing went up in a fiery explosion, as did the rest of the street. The screams of terrified citizens soon followed.

". . . 'Ch-'Charger? W-what was that?" Silverstreak eked out, staring into the flames with wide, horrified optics.

Lockcharger seemed to be much less shocked than his companions. "Seekers. Decepticon seekers. They're bombing the street," he answered quietly.

"D-Decepticons!?" Stryker squeaked. "What are Decepticons doing here!?"

"They're going to take the city," was the absent-minded answer, Lockcharger's attention clearly elsewhere. He carefully peeked out from under their meager shelter, only to pull back within two nanokliks. "They're coming back, we need to get out of here before they see us."

"Right . . . they wouldn't hesitate to shoot you, would they?" Stryker stated as he looked at the bright red insignia on Lockcharger's shoulder, trying to appear calm but the shake in his voice was undermining his efforts.

"Or you," Lockcharger added, grabbing Silverstreak by the arm to pull him along.

"What? Us? Why?" Silverstreak asked, his optics still glued to the burning street in unabashed terror.

The Autobot glanced back. "Are either of you interested in becoming Decepticons?"

That snapped up Silverstreak's attention. "What!? No!"

Stryker merely shook his head, warily eyeing the street askance.

"That's why. Assuming they even bother to ask," Lockcharger muttered, plastering himself against the nearest wall. The spot he had dragged them to appeared to be an old shop of some sort, with an awning being the only thing shielding them from aerial view. He sidled down to the edge and peered around the corner. "I need to get you out of here. The city's about to become a war zone."

Stryker scuttled over and rested his servos on Silverstreak's shoulders, shrinking away from the flames. "U-us? Y-you're coming too, right? Y-you can't seriously be planning to stay here." It seemed he had given up on his fake bravado.

"I have to stay. I'm an Autobot, remember?" Lockcharger replied distractedly before abruptly yanking Silverstreak along when he sprinted across the adjacent street, coming to a stop under another overhang. "Alright, I'm only going to say this once: if we get separated somehow, don't go looking for us. Just get out of the city as fast as you can. Decepticons like to start a siege with a couple of bombing runs, but when their ground forces get here, it'll be much harder to run." There was another insistent yank on Silverstreak's arm as he began racing down the street, the distant hum of engines coming to a crescendo when the Decepticons dropped their bombs upon the city a second time. Explosions and energon-curdling screams echoed through the air as the area was bathed in a red glow, nearby mechs and femmes stampeding for shelter.

Smoke billowed out from the surrounding structures as the supports of older, more neglected buildings caved from the damage. In the distance, one seeker trine headed by a grey and red jet loosed a small barrage of missiles at one of the few remaining skyscrapers, sending it crumbling to the ground. Silverstreak didn't want to think about how many bots were just offlined from the falling debris. That was the very center of the city, which seemed to always be crowded. He felt like his spark was in his intake, pulsing a million times every nanoklik. This was all happening too fast. He had just been on his way to the racetrack with his friends not five cycles prior, and now he was getting pulled along as they ran for their lives. He just couldn't process what he was seeing. Was this really happening?

The Decepticons' third pass brought about the annihilation of most of the smaller buildings and snapped the velocitronian out of his shocked state, bringing about the return of his self preservation instincts. Finally getting his legs to work without assistance, he began to sprint after Lockcharger and Stryker, allowing the Autobot to loosen his grip on his arm. They were taking the most direct route to the walls, it seemed. It appeared that the bombing was over, but a quick glance at what had taken its place made his lines run cold. Seekers and other aerials ranging from shuttles to heli-formers like Skyburst were flying low and gunning down the citizens. The image of the city streets riddled with fire, rubble, energon, and the lifeless frames of its inhabitants was one he'd likely spend the rest of his life trying to forget.

"Oooo! Lookie, lookie! An Autobot! It's my lucky solar cycle!"

The scarily cheerful voice was far too close for comfort, and the sudden increase of dust and wind in the air was just as disconcerting. Silverstreak glanced over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn't. There was a Decepticon flying after them in vehicular mode, and he was big.

"Eat plasma, Autobot scum! HAHAHAHAHA!" the large, grey-blue heli-former cackled, unleashing a rain of rapid-fire laser bullets after them.

Thankfully, Lockcharger hauled the two neutrals onto a side street before they were shot. Unfortunately, one of the perks of being a heli-former was incredible mobility. Lockcharger shoved Silverstreak and Stryker behind him, transforming his arm into some sort of gun as their pursuer rounded the corner. "RUN!" he shouted before returning fire against the Decepticon.

"GAK! HEY!" the mech squawked, quickly getting back behind cover. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT YOU LITTLE CRETIN!"

Silverstreak wasn't sticking around to find out what was going to happen next, and neither was Stryker it seemed. The silver mech wished he could argue with his friend, but he really couldn't. Lockcharger stood a better chance when he didn't have to protect a pair of hapless civilians.

"Hold still, and LET ME SHOOT YOU!"

Silverstreak took some comfort in the fact that Lockcharger was clearly being a difficult target, then focused on running as fast as his legs would allow. If only the road wasn't so mangled from the—

"Silverstreak! This way!"

The younger mech swung his gaze over to Stryker to see the blue mech transform into vehicle mode and skid around a corner. He was going to trust Stryker on this. He transformed into his own silver vehicle mode and sped after him, trying not to think about the fact that instead of the usual obstacles, he was swerving around the remains of other bots.

Stryker had led him onto a smoother patch of road which, most importantly, led to the outer walls, and they weren't the only ones making a frantic escape. They found themselves part of a mob as they raced down the street, but with greater numbers came a bigger target. Another heli-former and a large shuttle came swooping down with their guns blazing, and in the ensuing panic and carnage Silverstreak noticed something. He'd lost sight of Stryker. Where was he? Was he hurt? Had he gotten shot? He scanned the sea of bots around him with a growing sense of hysteria. "Stryker!?" he shouted desperately, his voice drowned out by the screams and shouts surrounding him. He could barely hear himself. "STRYKER!? WHERE ARE YOU!? STRYKER!" There was no answer to be heard from the crowd, and even at his loudest, Silverstreak still had a hard time hearing his own voice. All he could hear was screaming and explosions.

*BANG!*

He let out a frightened shriek when one such explosion occurred not fifty mechanometers ahead of him, his wheels squealing loudly when he frantically pulled to the side to evade the resulting pileup. While that particular wreck was avoided, wrecking in general was not. Wheels scrambling for purchase on the rough terrain succeeded too late, just in time for him to crash into a destroyed storefront. Thankfully, much of his speed had been lost from the maneuver. A pained moan left his vocalizer when he reverted back to robot mode, his vents wheezing from the copious amounts of dust in the air.

He brought a servo up to cover a large gash on his arm as he shakily got back to his pedes. The problem with being lightweight and speedy was when you crashed, there wasn't much in the way of protection. With a cough to help clear his clogged up vents, he carefully made his way back to the hole he had made in the wall and peered outside. The heli-former and shuttle were being joined by some of their comrades now.

Since going back the way he had come wasn't looking like a good option, Silverstreak instead turned and began limping his way over to the back of the store. Maybe there was another way out. He bit back a curse when his legs decided to fail him and he collapsed to the ground, wincing when the his injuries protested against him crawling along the rough ground. An ache appeared in his spark when a thought suddenly occurred to him. Was Comet alright? Had he managed to escape, or was he still in the city? Silverstreak didn't want that argument to be the last things they'd said to each other.

'C'mon, Silverstreak. Just get out of the city,' he thought. 'Just get . . . out of the city . . .'

---

It had happened so fast. One moment, Prowl was giving him and some others an urgent communique about the Decepticons' plans. The next, Ultra Magnus was watching smoke billowing up from the distant spires of Velocitron. The response had been quick. Reinforcements had been sent from Praxus; Glibax; and, of course, Marcon; but he feared that they might be too late. The Decepticons were ruthless, and the damage had likely already been done. They could only hope to find as many survivors as possible before their enemies.

Ultra Magnus heaved a morose sigh, glancing at the now-silent video screen. There was so much that they had only learned of in the last solar cycle. A spy or traitor in the city, Project Trypticon, and now this. He wondered how Optimus's mission at the core was going. They had left a while ago, but the journey to the core was a long one. Had he reached it yet? A part of him hoped that Megatron wasn't down there, because he was certain he knew how any attempts from his brother at reasoning with the warlord would go. Badly. As far as he knew, Megatron still believed that Optimus had betrayed him back at the beginning of the revolution. That did not bode well for him listening to the Autobot leader.

With another sigh, he returned his attention to the burning silhouette of Velocitron. He was trying to be optimistic, but he really couldn't. There was a feeling of dread in his spark, and he didn't think Velocitron was the last of the Autobots' troubles, he thought it was the beginning. He prayed that he was wrong.

---

Another group of Autobots had walked by him completely oblivious to his presence. Score seventeen for Skywarp. He had a good feeling about this solar cycle.

When someone looked at Skywarp, 'spy' was not usually one of the words they associated him with in their CPU. He was loud, immature, and as subtle as a punch to the face. However, when given the right directions from the right source (Megatron), he was actually a fairly competent infiltrator. His teleportation ability and dark color scheme were a major reason for that.

Skywarp carefully snuck out of his hiding place and continued with his mission of mapping the areas of the base their other spy wasn't allowed entrance to. The seeker wasn't entirely certain, but he believed the bot was a low-ranked communications mech. Regardless, the important thing in his CPU was doing this correctly. Megatron's approval was something he wanted desperately, after all.

Still, he couldn't let go of his curiosity about the spy. His name was Double . . . Double-something. If he remembered right, Double-whatever used to be an Autobot. How nice that he had come to his senses and joined the right side.

A sound coming from the other end of the hall snapped Skywarp out of his idle musings, prompting him to make a hasty warp to the same spot he had just crawled out of. Primus, did Autobots ever leave a hallway empty for more than thirty nanokliks? Wait . . . wasn't he supposed to meet Double-whatchamaface in an empty storage room with his finished map in a few cycles? Slaggit, he was. Why couldn't those Autobots just go away and preach love and tolerance somewhere? He had a leader to make prou—err, please. A leader to please. Not to mention the fact that he was missing a major throwdown in Velocitron. He wanted to shoot stuff.

When the Autobots left the hall (finally), Skywarp cautiously made his way to the remaining places marked on Double-whozit's map for investigation. He wouldn't let Lord Megatron down like a certain other seeker he knew. He teleported into the first of the remaining rooms with a smug grin, materializing in an obscure corner. He couldn't wait to see the look on Starscream's face when he saw what Lord Megatron had in mind for Marcon. It would be priceless.

Luckily, the Autobots had finally learned the meaning of 'vacate the premises' (likely doing something about Velocitron), so the remainder of the seeker's mapping went off without a hitch. With that, he teleported into the designated meeting closet to await Double-somebody. He was all set to start tapping his pede in impatience when he noticed the grounder already present, and he matched the spy's description. "Pssst, hey, Double-whatsyourface, I'm here," he whispered. He could always strangle the mech if it wasn't the spy, right?

The mech jumped and swung his gaze over to the black jet. "Doubledealer," he corrected with a huff.

"Whatever. Here's your map back," Skywarp said with a flippant wave of his servo. "Do me a favor, and make sure the explosion is awesome okay?"

---

Fire was everywhere, and the noise of explosions, screaming, and the collapsing buildings was deafening. Silverstreak never thought he'd be so terrified at the idea of being trapped in his city. He had yet to find Stryker, Lockcharger, or even Comet, but he had bigger things to worry about right now. The ground forces that Lockcharger had spoken of had finally arrived, and it seemed like every corner brought about another brush with offlining.

"Hey hey hey! Come out come out wherever you are, little fella! I just wanna play!" called one such incident. The heli-former that Silverstreak had last seen Lockcharger with had been looting an Autobot corpse—not Lockcharger, but sickening all the same—and mumbling something about how amazing the Autobot's gun was when Silverstreak had crawled his way out of some wreckage. The Decepticon—Cyclonus, he referred to himself as—had instantly recognized him as one of the bots he had seen with the Autobot 'cretin' earlier, and decided that was enough reason to chase the velocitronian all over the city.

Silverstreak was currently shaking in terror behind what remained of a wall, Cyclonus on the other side. He had lost the heli-former for just long enough to hide, but now he was stuck. If he ran, Cyclonus would see him; if he stayed, Cyclonus would find him; and frankly he was having a hard time determining which was the worst scenario.

"Yoohoo, where aaaare youuuu?"

The silver mech struggled to keep his vents quiet,which was proving to be quite the challenge. He was exhausted, and was running at a much higher temperature than what could be considered safe. As a result, his systems were trying to hyperventilate him, which was not conducive to remaining silent. Why was this Decepticon so obsessed anyway? Was it because he happened to be seen with an Autobot? Was he branded as an Autobot sympathizer now?

"C'mon ya stupid little good-for-nothing Autobot lover! I've got other things to destroy this solar cycle too y'know!"

He was. He didn't care if it was true at present, what he cared about was this blatant use of 'guilt by association.' For all that Decepticon knew, he had never met Lockcharger before in his life.

"You can't hide foreveeeer—"

"Cyclonus, what are you doing all the way out here? The Autobots are that way."

Silverstreak's spark felt like it leapt into his intake at the second voice. Oh Primus, not another one.

"What do you care Demolishor? Why aren't you over there?"

"I saw you. And I care because it's weird. You're always neck-deep in action."

"I'm trying to blow a little Autobrat to smithereens."

"There's an Autobot out here too?"

"Nah, just a useless neutral I saw with one earlier. The world won't miss him."

". . . You do realize we're only supposed to shoot the ones that won't join us, right?"

"Psh, you know as well as I do that Starscream's not gonna care. But since you insist . . . HEY! BRAT! IF YOU WANNA JOIN THE WINNING SIDE, COME OUT! IF YOU WANNA BE STUPID AND LET ME SNUFF OUT YOUR SPARK, DON'T SAY ANYTHING!"

Silverstreak cringed at the sudden volume to Cyclonus's voice, frightened tears biting at his optics. They were going to snuff him. That other one was going to help Cyclonus snuff him. What was he going to do?

"Well, he's not going to want to join us now. Not after you've been chasing him like this."

"Why, Demolishor! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you disapproved of my methods!"

"Well, I didn't say that . . . and I have to say that wall over there is looking very suspicious."

"I'll go right, you go left?"

"Sounds good to me!"

A suspiciously similar sound to when Lockcharger had equipped his gun followed Demolishor's agreement, making Silverstreak's tanks turn in distress. He had to think. He couldn't just stand here and offline.

Obviously, he couldn't fight his way out. Cyclonus was close to twice his size and armed for solar cycles, and Demolishor didn't sound like someone he wanted to tangle with either. Beyond that, Silverstreak himself was admittedly a complete weakling when it came to physical strength. They'd flatten him. However . . . he was fast. He knew heli-formers were fast too, and the road was hardly in good shape anymore, but it was his only chance. He didn't know what Demolishor was, but that variable did nothing to change the fact that this was his best shot at survival. His plan in mind, Silverstreak glanced left and right to determine which direction had the superior road conditions. The left was immediately ruled out when he noticed a pile of rubble blocking the way, so right it was.

He silently crouched down—mindful of his various injuries—as if he was about to begin a simple pede race, sent a quick prayer to Primus that this would work, then took off; transforming once he had a good enough running start.

"HEY! Demolishor, CATCH HIM!"

The swiftest glance into his rear view mirror showed that Cyclonus had wasted no time in transforming to give chase, and revealed Demolishor's frame. Primus, he was a tank. A tank. Thankfully, that meant he wouldn't be able to keep up.

Returning his attention to the road, he focused on taking the most heli-former-unfriendly route possible in a desperate bid to shake his pursuer. Cyclonus was a skilled flyer though, so each attempt was really just making him grow more irritated. "HOLD STILL!" he barked, a storm of bullets painfully grazing the grounder's side.

Silverstreak winced and swerved onto a narrow side street, panicking the instant he saw the fallen building blocking the way. Offlined by collision, or offlined by Cyclonus? He didn't want either. He slammed on his brakes, the action causing another bullet assault to miss. He had about six nanokliks until Cyclonus turned around.

His optics darted about for something, anything that would help him, and the sight of a small hole to the underground tunnels was a gift from Primus. He fired up his engine once more and raced over to the tiny opening, bracing himself for the impact when he reverted back to robot mode and slid inside. On the bright side, there was no way on Cybertron that Cyclonus would be able to follow him through there. He was too big. Unfortunately, the drop was a bit higher than he anticipated, leaving an ache in his entire frame when he finally stood again. His somersault had helped somewhat, but not by much.

Silverstreak had no time to stand there however, as it seemed Cyclonus wasn't taking no for an answer. He was blasting at the ground above, and it didn't take a genius to realize that he was widening the entrance. The velocitronian sped away down the tunnel in vehicle mode, taking solace in the fact that at least the Decepticon wouldn't be able to transform in the tight space.

The underground tunnel was, sadly, not very long it seemed, and Silverstreak soon found himself resurfacing amongst a ton of rubble near the outskirts of the city. One turn around a fallen apartment building though, and his optics settled on the most wonderful sight he could have hoped for. The outer wall. All he had to do was get to the other side and he was out of the city. He had to be creative though, as there was no gate to be seen and the wall was very tall.

Silverstreak transformed and sprinted up to the remaining obstacle, scanning it for any possible servo and pede holds, but the wall was as smooth as could be. Climbing was out then. With a frantic look around him he decided he could maybe build himself some sort of haphazard structure to climb instead, but that sounded dangerous, and noisy should he fail. If only Stryker was still there. The other mech could have given him a boost, then he could have pulled the other over.

As he thought on this further, hoping to think up a solution before Cyclonus caught up, a sound caught his attention. Pedesteps. He whirled around, hoping to see another neutral. It wasn't. It wasn't Cyclonus either, but Silverstreak's spark still dropped. It wasn't the heli-former, but the purple insignia emblazoned on the seeker's wings was the same. A Decepticon, and this time, Silverstreak really did have no way out. He was absolutely doomed.

The blue seeker spotted him an instant later and had his weapon trained on the grounder before he could blink, but for some reason, he didn't shoot. Not yet anyway. Did he just want to see him squirm? If Cyclonus and Demolishor were any indication, Decepticons seemed to get some sort of sick pleasure out of picking on those who couldn't fight back, so perhaps he did. The Decepticon's optics seemed to be scanning his frame for something, making Silverstreak feel very small. The seeker was bigger than Cyclonus, and towered over the grounder with an unreadable expression. ". . . I don't suppose you're interested in joining the Decepticons, are you?" he finally said, sounding almost . . . sullen.

Silverstreak was fully aware of the fact that he was shaking, but for whatever reason, he found himself answering the jet. "W-w-why w-would I?" he eked out, sounding about as small as he looked. "You go around killing bots who can't even fight back! I hope you're proud of yourselves, because I don't see how any of the things you're doing are helping Cybertron!" This was probably not the most intelligent thing to say to someone who had a gun aimed at his face, but he was going to shoot him anyway, right? He might as well speak his mind before his spark was snuffed. "You're just slaughtering thousands of innocent bots!"

The seeker stared at him for an excruciatingly long time, his optics flashing with indecision and . . . guilt? That couldn't be right. He was probably angry. Was he going to shoot him, or not? The next thing he did was equally strange. He looked over his shoulder to the left, then to the right as if making sure no one was looking, then glanced quickly at the wall. ". . . You're right," he said, startling Silverstreak into continued silence. His fear returned tenfold however when the seeker switched out his current weapon for a larger, meaner-looking one; took aim; and fired. Silverstreak could only shrink back and cower behind his arms as he braced himself.

A few nanokliks later, he was wondering why he was still alive. He peeked out from behind his arms to see the Decepticon walking away, disappearing behind the collapsed building. After blinking in shock, he glanced over at the wall and stared. He hadn't shot at him at all. He'd instead blown a hole in the wall for him. 'What . . ?'

"Yo, Thundercracker, what were you shooting at just now?" an all too familiar voice inquired of whom Silverstreak assumed was the seeker, making the velocitronian's lines run cold.

"Oh uh, just some neutral straggler," Thundercracker replied, shocking Silverstreak for the third time.

"Was he silver? About yea high?"

"Yes."

"Aw, lug nuts! Didja snuff him? I've been trying to get him for a while now!"

"He's offflined. I wouldn't bother looking for him."

"Slaggit! I wanted to do that!"

"You always want to do that."

"What are you doing out here anyway!?"

"Starscream wanted me to pick off any stragglers. I'm sorry if that inconveniences you."

"Tch . . ."

"Why are you even bothering with him, Cyclonus? You're supposed to be helping with the Autobots."

"I saw him with an Autobot earlier!"

"I don't care. You'd best head back before I tell Starscream that you've gotten distracted."

". . . Snitch."

The sound of a transformation followed, the sight of Cyclonus flying off greeting Silverstreak soon after. His thoughts were still reeling over what had just happened. This . . . Thundercracker had not only spared his life, but had also lied for him and given him an escape route. Speaking of which . . . The grounder spun on his heel and darted through the opening in the wall, transforming into vehicle mode to race across the ruined landscape. He could puzzle over Thundercracker another time.

---

The mood that had descended on Optimus's team was a solemn one indeed as they slowly made their way back to the surface. The news of Cybertron needing to shut down for an indefinite amount of time was far from what any of them had expected, and none of them were prepared for the knowledge that this meant they needed to find a new home.

The Prime glanced over at his troops. Ironhide was probably one of the most outwardly upset, his expression alone promising vengeance for their planet.

Sideswipe was the other bot with the most obvious reaction, though his was more of despair. Optimus suspected, however, that rage would take over should they run into any more Decepticons. The Prime felt the same himself, but he couldn't say he would be proud of himself for such a response. Many of the Decepticons likely had no idea what their leader's plan had done.

Warpath was silent, which spoke volumes about his thoughts on the matter. Every now and then he'd shake his head and heave a morose sigh before falling silent again, his optics glaring at nothing.

Powerglide was equally silent, but his movements were more animated. Occasionally his servos would go to his head in sorrow only for him to swing them back to his sides again with a frustrated grunt, then he'd cross them and glare off into space.

Optimus himself was wondering how he was going to tell his Autobots the terrible news. There would be many who wouldn't believe him, or would go into denial, but he knew what he had to do, and he would not make them follow him if they were set against it.

Glancing up, he was at last greeted by the sight of the archway at the surface. He had best inform Skyfire and Sunstreaker that they had returned. ::Skyfire, come in.::

::Optimus! Are you all alright? Was everything okay down there?:: Skyfire responded, sounding relieved.

Optimus could only sigh as they exited the tunnel, his optics locking onto the path he had last seen the shuttle and front liner on. ::We're unharmed, but I'm . . . afraid I cannot say the same of the core.::

::. . . I . . . can't say everything is alright up here either. Where are you?::

::We just exited the tunnel Skyfire. Where are you and Sunstreaker?:: the Prime asked, already dreading what Skyfire had to report.

:J:ust follow the path we took earlier and you should find us no problem.::

::Understood. We'll be right there.:: Optimus signed off and gestured for his companions to follow as he made his way down the path. The quicker they reached Skyfire, the better.

---

"Um . . ." Skyfire began, looking down at Sunstreaker, "they've left the tunnel and are on their way back."

Sunstreaker grunted softly in acknowledgement, his gaze planted firmly on the horizon.

Skyfire kept his disappointment over the smaller mech's minimal reaction to himself. It was, after all, consistent with his reaction any other time the shuttle had tried to speak with him, and there was also the fact that he appeared to be staring at the smoke rising in the distance. Skyfire looked down at the ground as he thought about the comm they had received from Prowl. How was he going to tell Optimus about Velocitron?

It seemed he would have figure it out on the fly, unfortunately, since he soon spotted the rest of their group coming up the path. There was something off with them though. Warpath wasn't talking about how they were going to teach the Decepticons a lesson for messing with the core and Powerglide seemed subdued, which both set off major alarm bells in Skyfire's CPU. He waved to get their attention, and found himself concerned even further when Sideswipe assaulted his brother with a crushing hug, sadness written all over his face. He hadn't known the mech for very long, but Sideswipe had seemed like the cheerful, optimistic sort, and he was probably right if the concern creeping into Sunstreaker's own expression was any indication.

". . . Sides? What's wrong?" Sunstreaker mumbled, looking uncomfortable with the embrace but doing nothing to dislodge his sibling.

"Err, Optimus? I . . . have news from Prowl," Skyfire began, dragging his gaze away from the brothers. Might as well get this over with.

Optimus finished making his way over to the shuttle and gave Skyfire a wary look. "Yes?"

". . . The Decepticons have . . . attacked Velocitron," the white mech continued hesitantly, his wings sinking along with the look on Optimus's face as he pointed in the direction of the distant smoke.

". . . Velocitron?" Optimus vented with the voice of a mech who had just received more bad news than he could take.

"Velocitron!?" The news, at least, seemed to put some life back into Ironhide. "It ain't enough that he practically killed the planet, so now he's gotta kill more civilians too!?"

Sunstreaker snapped his gaze over to the larger frontliner. "Killed the planet!?"

"It's not dead, Sunny . . . but it might as well be . . ." Sideswipe murmured, squeezing closer to the yellow bot.

"Cybertron has to shut down and heal," Optimus explained with all the strength he could muster, though he still sounded like he was taking in the information about Velocitron. "As a result, it won't be able to support life for a long time."

Skyfire felt like he had been shot. He had thought of several possible side effects of the dark energon poisoning, but this had not been one of them. Shut down? Unable to support life? That meant . . . "We're going to have to run, aren't we? Find another planet."

"If I ever get the chance, I'm gonna—KABLAM!—blast Megatron right between the optics!" Warpath fumed, kicking a large piece of rubble.

"Join the club," Ironhide agreed darkly, crossing his arms.

"We need to get back to Iacon as soon as possible," Optimus said after taking a steadying vent.

Skyfire looked around, taking in the moods of his fellows. Warpath, Ironhide, and Sunstreaker looked positively murderous, while everyone else—himself included—clearly needed time to recover from the shock. Yes, returning to Iacon was probably the best course of action. "On it, Optimus," he replied with a nod before transforming. He felt numb. There was just too much to take in all at once. So when everyone climbed inside, he had nothing to say before taking off.

---

The Badlands. A gigantic area of, well, bad land that encompassed a large part of Cybertron's landmass. There wasn't much to be seen out there, but it was the location where Grimlock and the rest of the Lightning Strike Coalition had last been heard from, more or less. If one wanted to be technical, it was the place where one of Grimlock's group had noticed their ship was giving location pings to the base at Proximax, and proceeded to disable the function. Probably on Grimlock's orders. Regardless, it was their last known location, and they had been heading west. So the team sent to find the MIA group had to follow their trail. Through the Badlands.

The search team in question was composed of an orange and yellow triplechanger named Sandstorm, who transformed into both an heli-former and an off-roader; a red and grey grounder named Windcharger; and another grounder with a red and blue paint job named Gears. They had been sent by Rodimus—one of Optimus Prime's two Seconds and commander in Proximax—to find the Lightning Strike Coalition, and they were not pleased about the assignment.

"Seriously, why do we even bother? It's not like they listen to anybody but Grimlock," Gears grumbled as he drove after the others over the cracked and abused ground.

"What about Grimlock?" Sandstorm asked.

"Grimlock especially only listens to Grimlock," Windcharger huffed. "This whole escapade was probably his idea."

"C'mon, guys, they're still Autobots, we shouldn't be talking about our comrades like this," Sandstorm reasoned, steering around a large piece of scrap metal.

"Tch, you haven't met Grimlock, have you?" Windcharger asked, mentally shaking his head.

"Well, no, I haven't spoken to him personally, but—"

"There you go."

"Grimlock is a special kind of mean, Sandstorm. He doesn't like 'weakness' for one thing," Gears elaborated, continuing to mutter to himself at a volume too quiet for Windcharger to hear.

"Oh?" Sandstorm prompted. "Well, who does he consider to be weak?"

"Anyone that isn't part of his group," Windcharger replied wryly. "I will admit that some of the others aren't so bad. Sludge is okay, and Swoop's actually kinda nice, but Snarl is a grouch and Slag . . . well, his name is a curse, and he chose it himself. What does that tell you?"

"Oh, uh . . . well." It seemed Sandstorm was beginning to understand why his companions were so sour.

Windcharger sighed. "Still, you have a point. Mean or not, they are Autobots, and we can't just leave them out here if they're in trouble."

"If Grimlock can't handle something, what makes you think we can?" Gears asked. "They're a bunch of fragging tanks."

"Swoop isn't."

"My point stands."

"What's Swoop?" Sandstorm asked, breaking back into the conversation.

"He's a grounder, but heavily armored. Kind of like Ironhide. Have you met Ironhide?" Windcharger replied.

"No."

"Well, think a big, stocky grounder. Anyway, we're just going to find them and report back. No one said we had to rescue them ourselves."

"Fine. But can we hurry this up? My axels are killing me."

"Stop complaining, Gears," Sandstorm stated.

"I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."

"Kup's doing fine," Windcharger pointed out.

"Well I'm not Kup, and frankly the amount of dust around here is ridiculous. It's clogging up my vents and making it hard to see. I don't see why you enjoy this sort of thing, Sandstorm."

The triplechanger laughed. "Where's your sense of adventure, Gears?"

"Nonexistent."

"This is exciting—"

"Not really."

Windcharger sighed again. This was going to be a long drive.

---

Skywarp was feeling very impatient. It had been a long while since he'd returned that map to Doubledealer, but the grounder had yet to return. He had even heard over the loudspeakers that his comrades were engaging the Autobot forces sent by Ultra Magnus. That meant they were on their way, which itself meant that they needed to hurry up. If only they weren't reduced to radio silence, then he could endlessly pester Doubledealer until he was done. How long did this take, anyway?

As if in response to his thoughts, the door opened to reveal the mech he was so impatiently waiting for. "There you are, D.D., what took you so long?"

Doubledealer looked unamused about his new nickname. "I didn't take anywhere near as long as you seem to be implying," he huffed. "Now will you do your job and get us out of here already?"

"Fine, fine," Skywarp said, rolling his optics in annoyance. He grabbed the smaller mech by the arm and gave him his best unsettling grin. "Just to warn you, teleportation has been known to be very disorienting. Take care you don't hurt yourself when I let go of you." That said, he activated his warp drive and brought the both of them to the pre-determined coordinates, a safe distance from Marcon. Doubledealer looked sort of sick. Wimp. "Now, you just lie down or something, while I warn Screamer not to get too close, 'kay?" he instructed, clapping the dizzy mech on the shoulder. He laughed when he fell onto his face, then activated his commlink. ::Hey, Screamer.::

::Don't call me that!:: the air commander snapped. ::What do you want, Skywarp!? I'm busy!::

::I was just wondering how close you are to Marcon, is all:: Skywarp replied, smirking to himself.

::What!? Why would you bother me over such a trivial question!?::

::If you knew what I do, you wouldn't consider it very trivial.:: Skywarp was flat-out grinning now, and he could tell it disturbed his shorter companion. ::Believe me, you'll want to tell me.::

::Fine.:: Starscream hissed. ::We're about two hundred hics out. Now tell me what this is about!::

::Just enjoy the view, Screamer.:: With that, he gave the slightly more coherent Doubledealer the signal.

A moment later, the area was consumed with the thunderous roar of an explosion, and Marcon went up in flames.

---

Notes:

Thundercracker - G1/WFC, maybe IDW I haven't gotten that far yet in the comics

Skyburst - Earth Wars game, maybe IDW (see above)

Hotlink - Toy bio and the Exodus book

Cyclonus - Armada/Energon

Doubledealer - IDW

Demolishor - Armada/Energon

Gears - G1

Sandstorm - G1

Windcharger - G1