An hour after his 'kidnapping' by the Decepticons, Spike isn't laughing anymore.

While his father is uninjured and was already out of Sideswipe when a group of Autobots went to retrieve their companions, the three mechs are not fine.

Sure, they were hit by null-rays, but the effects have been greatly enhanced, to the point Ratchet can only sigh and tell them that the best thing is to wait for the effects to pass on their own.

And, as if that isn't all, the affected Autobots' sensory networks shut down after about five minutes of the initial hit.

Which means they know the Decepticons took Spike, but not that they've been rescued and the boy is fine.

"They really managed to get their revenge." Ratchet growls softly, looking at the three cars on a cleared part of the Repair Bay, leaning against the table over which are the two humans.

Sparkplug is still keeping an arm around his son's shoulders, even after being reassured that nothing happened to him, but the teenager doesn't protest.

He's been worried about him too.

"So, if I've understood this right, Soundwave and Starscream showed up to teach Spike about the mess of last week, and to pay the twins and Bumblebee back for laughing at them?" The older man asks, and Ratchet revs his engine while Prowl and Optimus, who are going over the boy's tale, now written on a datapad, nod.

"Yes. Spike's misunderstanding was to be corrected to avoid future repetitions, which is what we set to do as soon as we became aware of the problem." The tactician explains before turning to look at the three paralyzed mechs. "Yet, their actions were to be punished, for they knew the meaning of every word and the consequences of such assumptions, and those are intolerable, both for them as individuals and for their positions in the Decepticon hierarchy. Since their actions were deliberate, they searched for the more effective punishment."

"And what could be worse for us, who have taken you in as comrades and friends, who have sworn to protect you, than to know one of you would suffer for our decisions, our actions?" Prime adds, sad and disappointed, as he shakes his helm slowly. "To know their rashness brought about Spike's kidnapping and to leave them isolated from the world, to lose themselves in their imaginings, in the worst case scenarios their processors can conjure… That, is the cruelest punishment."

"Worst of all will be when they finally break out of it and see you are alright, for now they know what could happen if something like this was to repeat itself again. And you might not be so lucky next time." Ratchet ends with a scowl. "Playful Decepticons, as if the normal ones weren't bad enough."

"Actually, I was the one to tell them about 'Commander' Witwicky." The teenager answers sheepishly, and his father chuckles softly.

"Did you tell Soundwave to play that song?" The medic asks, and the boy's laughter at the memory may seem accusing, but the ambulance knows the truth. "I'm surprised Starscream didn't just let him fall after taking off."

"Well, he wasn't all that happy." Spike snickers, sobering after a couple of seconds.

"Just to make sure, they told you to always ask if there was something you didn't understand, to either explain or, at least, know that you had no information about the topic." Prowl repeats, and, as the four times before, the boy nods.

"And they said not to apologize if the question was uncomfortable, that it was better to know the answer or the lack of knowledge than to assume and end up in another mess like this one. Soundwave even answered a couple of my questions." Three pairs of optics are suddenly on him, and Spike realizes with a start that he hasn't told them about said inquiries. "Oh, right. I asked him if Laserbeak was really his and Starscream's, and he said that no, that he's a split spark creation. And that Buzzsaw and Ratbat are too, but that Ravage, Frenzy and Rumble are co-created. Also, the co-creator is deactivated and you don't know who he is." He summarizes, and, after a quick reboot of their optics, Ratchet revs his engine in amusement.

"His Flier Cassettes are the split sparks? Are you sure he wasn't mocking you?" The medic asks, as Prowl's doorwings twitch while he writes something more to the report.

"Could have been." The boy answers with a shrug, because Soundwave is a Decepticon after all. "At least he answered."

"You asked Starscream something?" Prime's voice is full of curiosity, as are his optics, as he turns to the boy, the other two Cybertronians' attention fully on him, too.

"I asked him if he had creations and… well, that was the first time since they took me that he got angry. He said that it was 'none of my incumbency', so I let it slide. Soundwave looked kind of curious, though." He muses out loud, remembering the slight tilt of the dark blue helm and the orangish color of his visor as the Seeker fumed. "And then, they brought me back."

Spike looks at the Autobots, at Ratchet's calm as he scans the paralyzed mechs once more, at Prowl's darkened optics seemingly staring at nothing as his doorwings twitch softly, and at Optimus' searching gaze fixed on his Second in Command.

Confused by the two high ranked officers' behavior, the teenager keeps looking.

The tactician's optics brighten slowly and, with a sharper twitch of one doorwing, he seems to realize he's the focus of the Prime's stare.

The Datsun turns to look at his superior and reboots his optics quickly in what may either be confusion or curiosity.

And then, all in the room startle as the black and white mech's doorwings flare wide open and hitch up, optics flashing almost white as his features become sharp and his engine gives a short but powerful roar.

Prime takes a couple of steps back and quickly looks to the ground.

A quick look at the medic shows him completely still and also staring at the floor.

After a second of uncomfortable quietness, Prowl's doorwings move back to their normal position and his optics dim to a more calm clear blue, returning to the datapad as if nothing had happened.

When Optimus goes to Ratchet to ask if anything has changed with the paralyzed mechs, acting as if really nothing had happened, the two humans exchange a look.

Steeling himself, the teenager straightens and turns to the Datsun—

But the whirring of gears and coughs of engines makes his attention go to the transforming frontliners and scout.

He has barely managed to put a smile on his face when the three of them assault the medic and the Prime in a panic, speaking quickly in Cybertronian.

The other two Autobots answer calmly and, after something the medic says, they all turn to stare at the humans on the table.

Three wide and relieved smiles tamper down to more subdued ones as Prowl steps next to the Witwicky's, before turning absolutely embarrassed and remorseful.

While Prime starts some kind of speech, still in Cybertronian, and Ratchet pokes and prods at the three scolded mechs, the teenager looks up at the tactician, who has amused pale blue optics fixed on the rest of Autobots.

"What is going on?" He asks softly, and the doorwings give a soft twitch but the Datsun doesn't look away.

"Prime is telling them how disappointed he is." He answers simply and, after a look at the frontliners and scout, Spike has to fight to keep his snickers silent. "I can assure you, after this is over, they will never mock the Decepticons again about something even remotely related to you humans."

And that is what makes the Witwicky break down in laughter.

That, and the small, almost not there, amused smile on the Second in Command's lips.

So, when Optimus is done with the lecture and Ratchet with the examinations, father and son just accept the three mechs apologies and ask to be taken to the rec room for a couple of rounds of one of the games there.

Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Bumblebee smile widely and transform, resuming their race in the corridors of the Ark, much to Prowl's annoyance, if the sound of sirens after them is any indication.

The five of them only laugh harder.

"So, what will be today's lesson?" Spike asks as he sits down on the table, his father with him.

Ratchet gives them a quick look before returning to whatever he's tinkering with.

"Well, I've been told you know the basics of creation already, so we could either move to another topic or you can keep asking about this one." The medic answers calmly, and the boy grimaces.

"Yeah, right. As if I wanted to know the specifics of the 'creating' moment." The teenager grumbles under his breath, and the older man snorts.

"Well, since Spike won't ask, I will." Sparkplug answers louder, almost cheerfully, and receives a nod from the mech and a wide-eyed pleading look from his son. "The bodies of your creations. How do you make them?" Ratchet stops his tinkering and looks up impressed.

"Good question. We don't 'make' them so much as create the basic Newspark Protoform and let the newspark modify it. Wait a moment." The humans' open mouths close, silencing their questions, as the ambulance goes to some drawers and starts rummaging. "The protoform is the innermost structure of any Cybertronian, our skeleton and vital organs, you may say. There's also the main sensor net and, depending on each individual, there may be some cosmetic armor plates. Some even have weapons, but that's—here it is!" With a big smile and a datapad in hand, the medic closes the drawer and approaches the humans. "This is a Newspark Protoform." And he shows them the image on the screen.

The best the teenager can think about when he sees it is the robotic skeleton of The Terminator. Though with some more plates on arms and legs.

"When the newspark reaches the end of the maturation, it is transferred to the Newspark Protoform. Then, the energy it has accumulated during the development is released in a strong burst, jump-starting all systems and copying the coding to the processor. The power also allows the protoform to modify itself according to the coded in specifications." A dactyl touches one of the many rows of weird symbols on one side of the page, a completely different column appearing and another line selected, and the image changes.

Before the Witwicky's awed eyes, the robotic body's parts start to move and, in some cases, modify, until the resulting mech has a bigger and more exposed form.

Spike takes a look at the squared chest and the pointy protuberances in place of ears, and does a double-take, the being suddenly more familiar.

"Is that a… one like Prime?" He asks softly, and Ratchet nods with a smile.

"A Trailer Roller model of the Cargo frame type." The mech answers easily, and the boy beams up at him.

"Can you show us more? Other mechs? How about a Minibot?" The medic's amused smile grows, and, with a nod, he presses something on the screen that turns the protoform back to its original state.

Before he can input the new orders, though, the alarms go off.

"Looks like it'll have to wait for later." The ambulance growls, quickly putting the pad on the first available drawer and helping the humans down the table. "Shall we go see what those Decepticons have done now?" He asks as he transforms, doors open, and none of the humans hesitate to get in.

They are a safe distance away from the unstable nuclear facility that is the battleground, but Spike feels more endangered than he would be next to the cracked walls.

Mostly because there's only his father with him, all the Autobots battling the Decepticons.

But not all the Decepticons are battling the Autobots.

Frenzy and Rumble's threatening sharp smiles only widen as the humans take a step away from the Cassettes.

"Aw, what are those scaredy faces for, fleshies? There's nothing to fear." The red and black Cybertronian snickers with a too sweet voice.

"Of course not. After all, we're only trying to help." His twin adds with a darker tone, visor flashing dangerously. "Help the Decepticons get rid to you, help the Autoscum clean their ship of pests, and help your miserable existences by bringing an end to them."

"Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you try, Decepticreeps." The teenager retorts, but takes another step away from the Cassettes as their arms transform into drills and pile-drivers, respectively.

"Shouldn't you be, I don't know, carrying cubes, or helping fight the Autobots?" Sparkplug cuts in as the threatening small mechs slowly trap them against a rocky formation.

"As much as we would love to kick Autobot aft—"

"—we have unfinished business with you vermin."

Spike's brain winds to a stop, before he suddenly remembers a teeny tiny detail.

If someone insulted his father, he would immediately defend him.

Frenzy and Rumble are Soundwave's creations, his 'children'.

And there was a certain misunderstanding about the Second and Third in Command of the Decepticons…

"Is this about the mess with Soundwave and Starscream? Because I talked with them, it was a misunderstanding! We already cleared it!" Both Cassettes let out sharp bursts of air, as if snorting.

"Cleared it with them. But it won't be over until we make sure you can't keep spewing such slag!" Frenzy answers with a snarl, pointing a drill at them, and the humans exchange a look of slight despair.

"Even if I can't see how creation will ever be useful to get out of a situation… unless you purposefully twist it to make others fritz."

Spike's eyes widen, and the look his father gives him can only be translated as 'please, tell me you're not about to do something stupid that could potentially get us killed'.

The teenager mentally crosses his fingers as he turns to the Decepticons and steels himself.

"Is it?" Both Cassettes' smiles and snarls turn to confusion. "Slag, I mean. Or are you trying to cover up your creator's affair?" Visors flash almost white as Sparkplug groans in a 'we're doomed' way.

"What?!"

"You know, they're both pretty high in the chain of command, which means they must be really busy, and busy people tend to get really tense. And what better way to release some tension than to spend some quality time with another mech?" Frenzy's drills turn on and off in what would have been twitching fingers, his optical band frizzling slightly with static, as Rumble gapes like a fish out of the water, pile-drivers lowering slowly as if their weight is too much for his shoulders to support. "Plus, I've heard there are some advantages in being with a Seeker. You could get another flying sibling." Both twins let out bursts of static as they shake worse than leaves in a storm. "Also, being with someone so different means there's more to explore, more to try… Tell me, what would Soundwave do with Starscream's wings?"

Silence.

And then, with a sound like a shot, the red and black Cassette's visor goes black and he falls lifelessly to the ground.

His twin's jaw follows, almost literally, but he's still online, even if his optical band is flashing so badly that Spike sees many new shades of red in it for the first time in his life.

The next sound isn't a cough of an engine or the crash of metal on rock, but Rumble's snarl, and Spike swears in his head as the Decepticon looks at them with the most murderous look ever.

"Looks like that backfired." Sparkplug hisses as they step away from the almost literally smoldering Cassette.

"Um."

"I'm. Going to squish you. So badly. That you'll be evaporated by the time the Autobots get here!" The blue mech shrieks loud enough to make their ears ring, jumping towards them—

And stopping midair as two dark blue servos envelop his torso.

Still shrieking like a banshee—or like Starscream, but Spike isn't going to say that out loud—Rumble trashes madly in the hold, not even thinking about transforming his pile-drivers back to servos to try to get rid of the bigger ones instead of just pushing against them.

Soundwave gives the humans a look, visor almost orange in what the boy is beginning to recognize as curiosity, as he straightens, pulling his creation up to chest level.

A quick look at the immobile black and red frame at his feet later, the bigger Decepticon turns his attention to the wary humans pressed against the rocks as if they could phase through them.

"Query: What happened."

"Huh… Self defense?" The teenager supplies without much thinking, not knowing how to interpret the fact he's been saved from a crushing death by their assailant's father picking the Cassette up like one would a hissing kitten.

"Query: What was said." Spike feels himself blush softly at that, looking between the still orangish visor and the screeching Rumble in Soundwave's servos before turning to the tape deck.

"I kinda… made them imagine you and Starscream together." The Communications Officer's visor flashes, but it quickly returns to its usual red instead of going to that menacing almost white, blue and white plating tingling softly in what the boy doesn't know if it's self-restraint or amusement.

"Human: Would make a fine Decepticon." Spike's mouth falls open.

Is he… congratulating him on his strategy to put Frenzy out of commission?

Plating tingles again at the teenager's dumbfounded look, and he finally realizes amusement is the reason behind it, as well as the paling of the visor.

Huh.

"Query: Words to anger Rumble." Spike takes a second to think the question over before deciding that answering is the better course of action, more so with the good humor the other is apparently in.

"I asked him what would you do with Starscream's wings." Soundwave's visor flashes again, and Sparkplug hisses a bit when a soft tremor, like the vibrations of a bass, fills the air.

After a second putting together the sound with the once more orangish visor and the tilt of the helm, the teenager reaches a disturbing conclusion.

The Decepticon is chuckling.

"Query: Want me to answer."

Silence.

Even Rumble has stopped his shrieking, now bending almost impossibly as he tries to meet his creator's visor.

The bass thrumming is heard again as Soundwave's helm tilts slightly further, as if urging the answer, and Spike stumbles over his words.

"I—Huh—Are you—I mean—That is—I'd rather—Isn't it—I don't—"

"Answer: Tactile overload."

The Cassette's visor flickers almost audibly before turning black, his blue body slumping in the Communications Officer's hold.

Without another word, the tape deck leans down to grab Frenzy and walk away.

The Coneheads sweep down, opening their cockpits to let Soundwave put one Cassette in each before transforming himself and jumping into the third, and they fly away.

"Spike, Sparkplug!" Both humans turn sharply to the approaching cloud of dust, Bumblebee, the twins and Jazz quickly transforming once they're close enough, the frontliners snarling after the vanishing jets. "Are you alright?"

"Yes…" The man answers, rubbing his face with a tired sigh. "I can't believe that really worked."

"Halfway." The teenager adds softly, shaking his shock off. "Guys?" All Autobots minus the saboteur turn to him, the Porsche touching his helm in answer to an unheard communication. "What is tactile overloading?"

"Tactile overloading?" All four repeat, even the Head of Spec Ops turning to them with visor pale blue in surprise.

"Soundwave said he was going to do that with Starscream's wings."

Silence.

"Soundwave told you he was… going to overload Starscream by tactile interfacing with his wings." Jazz not-asks, mouth agape and optical band almost white as his helm tilts like the neck can't support the weight anymore.

The twins' fans roar to life as Bumblebee falls to the ground covering his audio receptors.

"Jazz!"

Both the Autobot and the humans jump in surprise at the bellow and, as one, turn to look at the nuclear plant and the colorful shapes in front of it.

Though, only four are standing, the rest either falling down or already sitting down, and there's a faint sound being carried over the distance, like pleading or shouting in horror…

Ratchet's murderous scowl isn't visible so far away, but Spike's sure the white light on his helm isn't a reflection of the sun.

"Oops."

AN: One more chapter, and early update 'cause I feel like it :D

Mixed chapter, yet again, and the plot-that-shouldn't-be keeps developing, the slagging thing... Oh well, what can I do but let it grow? 'Sides, it may be interesting to see where it goes...