Chapter 1
Resonance
He should not have been surprised. It had to be the third or forth time that this had happened, but nevertheless as Rattrap stared at the middle-aged man who was human only in appearance on Banachek's right, he had no doubt who it was. Just like he had no doubt who the slightly taller man with the insidious smirk on the human's left was, but he chose to ignore it. Rattrap knew if he thought too much about it, it would ruin the reunion.
"Optimus!"
Humans would probably never understand how they were able to tell their own when their bodies changed so often, but then it was precisely the reason why they could. He found himself grinning, but a glance at the others told him that he was the only one to do so. The tension from the remaining four men was almost palpable in the air.
Dinobot and Depth Charge wore twin looks of grim resolve, their brows drawn together. The raptor's hands flexed at his sides as if he wanted to reach for a weapon not in his grasp. Nightscream's ice-blue eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and confusion and his hold on Silverbolt's forearm must have been no less than a death grip because the fuzor had to gently pry the boy's fingers off before taking his hand. The look on his own face was unreadable, and Rattrap found that to be the most disconcerting thing of all.
Primal stepped forward, taking the time to look each and every one of them in the eye probably to judge the level of animosity there or maybe something else. He must have found what he expected because he nodded to himself before opening his mouth to speak.
"It's good to see you all," he said, "I wish this reunion was under better circumstances. I regret that we don't have much time to catch up, but we need to talk."
"No," a voice nearly alien to Rattrap's ears reached them, "we don't."
Looking past the trio to the far end of the hallway, Rattrap saw Cheetor and Blackarachnia who must have just entered. The spider woman's complexion was paler than usual, contrasting greatly with her long black hair and the hard look in her emerald eyes. And Cheetor... he looked like he had aged five years in the few hours that Rattrap had last seen him. His posture was stiff, most likely due to his injured leg, but he did not reach for any support, whether it was the wall or his sister.
"We," he repeated taking an obviously painful step towards his old mentor, "have nothing to talk about. Least of all in front of him."
He jabbed a finger at Megatron, who had the audacity to plaster a wide-eyed and innocent 'who?-me?' look onto his face. Cheetor pressed his lips into a thin line as he walked forward to hide the fact that he was gritting his teeth, whether in anger or pain or both. He was face to face with Optimus and looked the older man directly in the eyes.
"I stupidly tore my leg open again," he said, and it was then that Rattrap noticed the blood-soaked fabric of his right pant leg, "so I need to get to the infirmary and clean up before I bleed over everything in sight. Then we can all talk. If you can separate yourself from your new friend, that is."
With that, the young man turned on his heel and walked away. Blackarachnia said something to him as he passed, but he shook his head and continued until he was out the door and out of sight. Blackarachnia crossed the short space towards them, brushing past Optimus and Megatron as if they were not even there. Primal nodded with acceptance if not without a measure of sadness.
"I understand. We can talk in an hour. I have a few things to discuss with Mr. Banachek anyway," he turned to go but then stopped. "It is good to see all of you."
If he wanted to say more, he must have decided against it. Banachek started back for his office with Optimus and Megatron in tow. They were soon out of sight, and it was as if the remaining group breathed an audible sigh of relief. Deciding that someone needed to break the silence before things got uncomfortable again, Rattrap designated himself.
"What the slag, webs?" he companied, though of course he knew precisely what the slag was. "That's Optimus."
"Did you happen to notice who was with him?" she asked rhetorically.
"I know, but... ah slag," he cursed and tried for a different topic. "How's Spots?"
Her face marginally softened at that. "Physically? He'll live. Other than that, you saw him."
"Shouldn't we go talk to him then? See where his head's at?"
Blackarachnia hesitated, sharing some sort of wordless communication with Silverbolt. Next to him, Nightscream stiffened at the prospect of being left alone with strangers, especially with the likes of Megatron roaming the facility. The fuzor looked between the boy and his mate.
"He is most likely to speak honestly with you two," he finally said. "Go. It will be of no use to have two ineffectual commanders."
Dinobot and Depth Charge, who had rarely – if ever – seen such harshness from the fuzor, exchange a look but said nothing on the subject.
"Then, if there are no objections," the raptor stated, "I wish to speak to Depth Charge of the whereabouts of our quarry. Preferably outside, away from prying ears."
The thought of the hunt for Protoform X instantly got the water-based Cybertronian's attention and he nodded his agreement. "Come find us when Primanl's ready to explain all this slag."
* * * * * * * * * *
How he got through two wars without knowing how to tend to a simple cut was beyond him, but judging from the mess of bloody paper towels and bandages on the floor of the infirmary somehow Cheetor had managed to do exactly that. Oh, he knew how to solder together a limb that had been blasted off in battle, but flesh was a messy thing to deal with. And now that he had forced himself to focus on it, the pain was excruciating. He muttered an obscenity.
"Need some help?"
Cheetor looked up from his position on the edge of the bed to see Rattrap and Blackarachnia walk casually into the room. He grimaced, not in the mood for company.
"I told you I didn't need anything."
Blackarachnia gave him an incredulous look that read 'and-whose-shoulder-did-you-spend-the-last-hour-crying-on' but she didn't say anything, opting for simply shrugging and leaning on the door frame.
"No offense, but why are you two here?" he asked.
"I'd like ta know," Rattrap not so much say as bounced into a seat across from the foot of the medical bed, "what you plan to say to Optimus, kid."
"Haven't descried yet," Cheetor retorted never taking his eyes off the wound he was cleaning. He winced and saw from the corner of vision as Blackarachnia rolled her eyes and briskly crossed the room. She pointedly took the cotton balls and clean bandages from him, pulled up a chair, and went to work. Grateful for her help but not quite so grateful that he had nothing left to focus on, he decided to avoid Rattrap's question for as long as possible.
"Think it needs stitches?"
"No. These bodies heal pretty fast. Just change the bandages every six hours or so and stay off of it for a few days. If you decide to go for another 10K run, we'll be doing this dance all over again," Blackarachnia reproached.
"Thanks," he returned his attention to Rattrap when he felt the rodent's eyes drilling holes in the back of his head. "I'm debating between telling him to slag off right away and waiting till he's done with whatever he's going to try to sell us and then telling him."
"Bit premature to be sending him back to the Matrix, ain't it, kiddo?"
"Stop calling me that!"
"Stop givin' me a reason to and start thinkin' straight."
"Are you seriously telling me there's something he could say to justify all this?!"
"I don't know," the rodent admitted. "Point is, neither do you."
Cheetor set his jaw. "Do you agree with him?" he asked his sister.
She was quiet for a moment. "You have a right to be more than a little upset," she said carefully. "I don't know what's going on with Depth Charge or Dinobot, but the rest of us all fell hurt and betrayed to various degrees."
"Difference is, no one else is in charge," Rattrap put in. "Me an' Webs are just tryin' to make sure you have your head firmly attached to your shoulders."
Cheetor was about to reply but was distracted when Blackarachnia tied the final tourniquet from a strip of bandage that she'd ripped in two.
"There. Good as new," she got up and walked over to the medicine cabinet where she went through a few bottles before finding one she wanted. After shaking out the correct dosage, she brought it back to Cheetor with a glass of water. "Take these. Pain killers don't work too well on us, but it should help a little."
"Thanks again," he said gratefully and swallowed the medication.
Blackarachnia actually smiled. "What are big sisters for?"
Some sisters, Cheetor reflected thinking of Airazor and Tigatron, and old friends were for causing pain. But aloud he said nothing. He was not quite sure what had actually happened to turn the pair against them, so it was hard to feel anger rather than just hurt. Which, he realized, incidentally was the case with Optimus as well.
"You're right," he finally admitted. "I said I would listen but honestly I don't think I was planning to. I should clear my head before I face him again. Just hope everyone else is alright."
Rattrap flashed a mischievous crooked grin. "Want us to do recon?"
"That sounds a little... underhanded," the young commander wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. "Just make sure they're okay. Well, relatively okay. I have some thinking to do. Some real thinking. I'll see you later at Banachek's office."
Once they were out in the hallway with the door shut behind them, Blackarachnia couldn't help but smirk. Rattrap's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Uh-oh, you have that look."
"Look?" the feigned innocence worked no better for Blackarachnia than it had for Megatron.
"Webs!"
"Just not sure how much actual thinking he's going to have time to do. That stuff I gave him is a painkiller but it should also knock him out for a few hours." Her companion glared at her. "What? He needs to rest, and Primus knows he won't do it if anyone actually told him to."
Rattrap had to admit she had a point. "Ain't we meetin' the monkey in an hour, though?"
"So? Let him wait."
* * * * * * * * * *
After splitting up with Blackarachnia, Rattrap finally found Dinobot and Depth Charge outside, lead to the pair mainly by the ear splitting shouting. He was not quite able to make out the words until he opened the thick metal doors, but he had a pretty good idea what they were arguing about.
"It is more important for us to remain here," Dinobot was saying. "This is a time of crisis. Surely even with your single-track mind you can see that."
"So handle it," the water-based Cybertronian retorted, "and let me deal with X."
"Are you no longer part of this team?"
"Were you ever part of the team, Pred?"
"Whoa, easy there, fish face," Rattrap got between the two men who looked like they were ready to tear each other to pieces. "Glad ta see you're so concerned about the right thing."
"Primal's crazy," Depth Charge spat. "This is news?"
"Don't s'ppose he said anythin' to you two before you dropped outa de sky?" Rattrap ventured a guess glancing between them.
"Nothing," the raptor admitted, "nor did I have any suspicions that this may be his move. I was not present for the Technorganic War, did not witness the atrocities that occurred, but I have long been aware that Megatron's treachery and ruthlessness knows no bounds. I would have thought Optimus Primal was aware of that as well."
"We all thought so," his friend sighed. "Look, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told the kid: let's hear 'im out before we hang 'im."
"Forget the monkey," the platinum blond man insisted. "I'm telling you both, X is the bigger problem."
"Hardly," Dinobot objected but then he paused. "Wait. That Predacon discovered something. Something that made the humans very anxious, and I believe something they do not wish for us to know about."
"How d' ya figure that?"
"Because they have yet to mention it to us, yet they know it was stolen by a Cybertronian."
"All the more reason to get to X now while everyone's busy with Megatron," Depth Charge pressed. "Look, even if he still has flight capabilities, he hasn't used them or else we'd be hearing about giant flying crabs on the ten o'clock news. That means he might still be in Boston or at least in the North East. If I can take him out now, it'll be one less problem to worry about. You said it yourself: we have enough of those as it is."
"And if we can find him," the raptor mused, "we will discover whatever the humans are trying to hide from us. If we find him."
"What's all this 'we' business?" Depth Charge glared at him.
"Now you think it's a good idea?" Rattrap complained.
"I think Protoform X is a weapon," the former Predacon replied. "A weapon Megatron prepared to utilize upon his arrival here. It stands to reason we should not allow them to reunite."
* * * * * * * * * *
After it was converted into to the headquarters of one of the most secret organizations on the planet, Hoover Dam was equipped with several small rooms that housed bunk beds for workers with particularly long shifts. It was in one of these rooms that Blackarachnia found her bond-mate. Silverbolt sat on the lower bunk, his left hand resting gently on Nightscream's head which was cradled in his lap. The boy was asleep, she realized, but not resting at all if the pained look and tear streaks on his face were any indication.
"He will be alright," Silverbolt assured her when her questioning eyes met his. "He is simply in shock."
"Aren't we all?"
She felt a little guilty for being glad he had settled into sleep before she arrived. Not that she did not sympathize, but Blackarachnia was not good at dealing with children, especially ones in crisis. As opposed to Cheetor who's such an adult, she reflected with dry humor but neglected to mention it to Silverbolt for the same reason she had not said anything in front of Rattrap: at least one leader had to look reliable. Now was not the time to remind anyone that there was, at best, a ten year age difference between him and Nightscream. Without a word she sat down next to him and a moment later took his free hand.
"I don't have to ask how you are," she said quietly.
"No, you do not," his voice was just as measured, "but you need not worry. There are too many people," his fingers touched the boy's hair, "who are counting on me for me to let anger take control."
"You're not just angry," his mate noted. "You're furious."
Had there been anyone else in the room, that call would have raised more than a few eyebrows. Silverbolt looked, if nothing else, calm and composed especially for a man who had always expressed his emotions so openly and freely. She wanted to yell at him not to keep it all bottled up, that it always leaded to disaster, but Blackarachnia kept silent. After all, she had done just that when her own personal demon appeared. Yet another thing to feel guilty about, however momentarily: Megatron was a bigger problem than Tarantulas and thus a good distraction for her.
"Giving into that fury is an indulgence I cannot afford."
She tried not to shutter at how familiar those words were.