Hey! o-o I am so sorry for how long it took me for this! How long has it been? 2 years? ^^' Sorry! I kinda... forgot about it. And I'm not scared to admit it XD

Well heres the ending! Enjoy! And thanks for holding on for so long ^^' Thank you!!! As always comments and complaints are welcomed and these are all my OCs


"Grindz!!!"

Grindz groaned quietly and onlined, optics flickering as he looked over at the black blurr that was heading straight towards him. He tried to sit up, but gave up as pain ran through his circuitry.

"A-Airstrike?"

"Grindz! That virus! Project whatever! Cure! Now!"

"What?"

"We need the cure!"

"C-cure?"

Airstrike nodded eagerly, black wings twitching. He had to hurry, Skartplugs life was at stake! Grindz's white optics darkened a little.

"What cure? Rollz never makes cures for his virus's…"

"Then how do we get rid of it!?"

The injured mech shrugged slightly, wincing from the movement. Strike's blue optics widened. He had to find the cure!

"Fine!"

The Ferrari watched as the jet ran out of the room and out of his sight, before he turned back to the ceiling and offlined his optics. He needed to rest his aching frame before he did anymore damage.

If that's possible…

Skartplug cringed, pulling on the straps as he felt a burning sensation in his chestplate. He tugged hard, before looking down at them and realising they were his own carbon straps he'd used many times to pin Cannonball.

"Ah'm sorry Skarts but ya gonna rip yaself apart if ah let ya free"

Syndrome's optics paled as he watched his friend pull harder. The pain must've been getting worse to a level he couldn't imagine. Even as he struggled, it seemed the pain increased, until he saw a tear run down the medics faceplates in agony. Sighing, he picked up another sedative.

"Ya gonna be immune ta these at tha end of this…"

The dark medic let out a pained squeak as the needle was slotted into his neck, the fluid being injected into one of his main energon lines. His struggling slowly weakened as the liquid took its hold, slowly shutting his systems down as he fell into a forced light stasis. His frame fell limp as his optics offlined, before he was still once more. The silver saboteur sighed, taking up a blanket and covering the medics frame.

"Come on Striker… Ah need that cure…"

Rollz smirked, looking at the new virus programme he'd made. He placed it in a small box with some other chips, locking it and subspacing it for later as he stood up and stretched.

"Have to try that one out la-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as an arm suddenly appeared round his neck, causing him to choke a little as he gripped it. He squeaked as he felt another hand reach into a panel on his side, causing him to squirm as it raked around, before yanking something out. He let out a quiet pained cry, which was muffled as the arm around his neck became a hand over his mouthplates.

"That's just to ensure you don't try that vanishing trick on me…"

The Convict gulped, trembling a little. He heard a pair of wings twitch, so he narrowed down in his CPU who could be holding him. He main guess was the young X-Autobot jet.

"Now you're gonna do what I say… or I'm gonna kill you. Understood?"

The inventor nodded a little, before the hand loosened, pushing him back down into his chair.

"Project 17. Ring a bell?"

"Maybe…"

"It's the fragging virus you injected Skartplug with! And now, you're gonna make a cure"

"I don't make cures."

The mech tensed as he felt the barrel of a blaster on the back of his helm, his frame trembling slightly as he bit his lip.

"Maybe you didn't hear me. You are going to make the cure, or I'm gonna blow your helm off. And don't think about crying for your brothers, they're indisposed

Well there went that plan. Sighing, Rollz looked down at his computer and components, before picking up a blank chip and starting to type. Whenever he stopped, the gun in his helm would push further in, making him start again.

"And don't try anything funny"

Syndrome panicked as he ran back into the room. He'd left for a few minutes whilst Skartplug was offline to check Grindz, but he'd only been gone for a while before he'd heard screaming.

"Skarts ya gotta calm down!"

"G-get it out!"

The silver mechs wings twitched as he grabbed another sedative, looking at the time on it. He'd injected Skartplug with a three hour serum, but it had worn off after just under an hour, meaning he was becoming immune to them. Skartplugs screams knocked him out of his short phase out session as he looked back at him. His wrists and ankles were starting to bleed out as he struggled harder then ever before, the straps digging into his circuitry and wiring.

"I got it!"

Syndrome looked up as Airstrike ran into the room with a needle, the green liquid inside of it glowing eerily.

"That just looks like radiation ta me!"

"Well its not! Inject him already before he does anymore damage to himself!"

The silver mech nodded and took the needle, walking over to the medic as he hit his helm on the berth a few times, causing it to crack as he attempted to remove the virus.

"Hang on…"

Skartplug squeaked, feeling another needle in his neck. The pain was intense, burning from his helm to his lower arms, then swapping to the other half. He screamed as it moved, lingering around his spark before increasing outwards into the rest of him. He gasped, feeling a second liquid entering his frame, shaking as it followed the virus down. His struggling slowly lowered down to squirming as he felt the two programmes meeting, before he squealed, falling limp as he was tugged offline once more.

Drome gulped. His downward doorwings shook as he looked at the medic. Had he just killed him? The liquid hadn't looked right…

"Give him a moment Rollz said he'd offline…"

"Alright… ah better check on Grindz…"

What is this place…

Where am I?

Why can't I… No… n-not here…

"Hello again medic…"

"No… Please not here! Anywhere but here!"

"Stop squirming pet… you know what happens to you when you squirm…"

"No!"

"Ah!"

Airstrike jumped onlined as he heard a cry, optics onlining to see Skartplug sitting up panting, optics pale with fright. He stood and ran over as the medic winced, laying back down and looking at his bandaged wrists.

"Skarts? You ok?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Mhmm…"

"Does everything fe-"

"Do you have to ask so many questions?!"

The black jet blinked. Yup, he was ok. The jet headed for the door, looking out into the main medbay where Syndrome was checking over Grindz.

"He's awake"

The silver mech looked up and nodded, smiling as he helped Grindz stand. The smaller black mech stumbled a little, weakling clinging to the saboteurs side as he worked on staying upright.

"Easy… he alright?"

"Back to his grouchy self"

"Na change there then"

Airstrike chuckled, looking back into the room. He tried not to laugh at the death glare the dark medic was giving him as he worked on his wrists. He knew Skartplug would get revenge when he had to next repair him, but he shrugged it off. That was then and this is now, Skartplug was ok, and the Convicts wouldn't be bothering them again for a while.

The jet inwardly grinned, wondering if they'd managed to get off the walls yet after he'd used one of the medics working devices to magnetically attach them…