Author's Note: Okay, I have no excuses. I think I lost some focus with this story, but I swear I never abandoned it! The new TF movie and all it's Beast Wars references just helped me remember how much I loved writing this. The updates might not be as regular as before, but they'll be coming along. Thank you to everyone who's still reading and please review!

Chapter 2

Confrontation

When he blinked at the clock hanging above the doorway on the opposite end of the room whose hour hand was almost at the nine, Cheetor could not help but wonder how it could be earlier than the last time he looked at it. It hit him a full minute later that it was nine a.m., not p.m.. Alarmed, it took another moment until he realized how it was possible that he had slept for almost ten solid hours when he had only meant to close his eyes for a second.

Blackarachnia.

Feelings teetering between anger and amusement, he finally settled on annoyance. Swinging both legs over the edge of the medical bed, the young commander briskly walked out into the hallway and rounded a corner to Banachek's office. He hoped that Optimus was not still there, because he did not know where to start looking for the others and had little desire to face his former mentor by himself. Luckily the threat of that vanished when he spotted Rattrap, Blackarachnia, and Silverbolt heading in the same direction from a different hallway. He caught up with the trio at a slow jog.

"Mornin'," Rattrap greeted. "How ya doin', Spots?"

"Okay, no thanks to certain people," Cheetor shot his sister an annoyed glare. "I thought black widows are supposed to poison their mates, not brothers."

Silverbolt raised a brow at this but said nothing. His mate only gave an innocent shrug.

"Do you feel better?" she countered, not bothering to point out that real black window spiders ate their mates rather than poisoned them.

"Yeah, actually." Now that he thought about it, he was surprised to note only a dull ache.

"Then you're welcome."

Cheetor rolled his eyes and decided to change the subject. "Where are the others?"

"Nightscream is still asleep," Silverbolt replied, "and I have not seen Dinobot or Depth Charge since last evening."

Rattrap fidgeted. "They'll be around." Neither Cheetor nor Optimus would probably be happy to learn that the two new arrivals went across the country to hunt Rampage.

They reached Banachek's office within moments, and when he pushed open the door, Cheetor was relieved to see that Megatron was not there. Only the human director of Sector 7 and Optimus himself stood before them. For the sake of the humans in this facility – all humans on the planet, really – he hoped that the Predacon commander was not roaming the halls without escort, though Cheetor knew there was not much humans could do if he decided to raise the Inferno just for the fun of it.

The desk divided the four of them from Banachek and Optimus, and with only two chairs before it, no one sat. All the Maximals stood rigidly, like none of them wanted to be there, which was not far from the truth. Optimus looked resigned and more than a little sad at the situation. The only human in the room cleared his throat.

"I understand this reunion is not under the happiest of circumstances," he said, looking at the faces in front of him to make sure they were listening. "I don't know the details of why, but for the sake of both our worlds, I ask that you please set it aside and hear him out."

Huh, Rattrap was silently impressed. Not bad, for a human. No one's gonna argue with that one.

Once he was satisfied that none of them were going to just walk out, Banachek left, and they were alone with Optimus. He took a breath and came around so that everyone was on equal footing, but he did not lean on the desk or show in any way that he was at ease. Nothing about him was relaxed.

"I didn't handle yesterday well," he admitted. "I should have come to you myself first, without going to the humans, without... other interferences."

No one needed spelling out what those other interferences were.

"I know you feel that I have betrayed your trust. I won't blame you if you still feel the same, but I implore you to hear me out. Since the end of the Technorganic War Megatron and I have been in a limbo of sorts, guarding the gate between the Matrix and the physical world. We alone had the power to retrieve sparks from the abyss as I have done with the seven of you."

"And like Megatron did with Rampage," Cheetor could not help but remind him bitterly.

"And like Megatron has done," Optimus agreed. "I accept the fault for that, because I let him do it. Powerful as we both were, he could do little without my permission. Believe me, I understand how you feel. I dreaded bringing him here."

"Then why did you?" Blackarachnia's voice was even.

"Because I didn't dare leave him behind. With me here, he would be the one and only guardian of the gate. Primus knows how much damage he could do to the Matrix itself and all the sparks within it if he was left alone."

Cheetor was appalled. "So you decided to bring him back to life instead? You care more about the dead than the living."

The accusation stung.

"You know better than that, Cheetor," the older commander focused his brown eyes on his former student, his tone ever so slightly chastising. "You have a receptive spark as well. We have all been to the Matrix and back. We fought the Technorganic War for the sparks."

"And you threw all that away by brining him back here." The logical part of Cheetor's mind grudgingly had to agree with the reasoning but externally he was still furious.

"I wish there was a better way," Optimus said, "but I couldn't leave him. In any case, Megatron is just as interested in stopping the aliens as we are."

"You do not seriously believe he cares for humans or for Cybertron?" this time it was Silverbolt who spoke up.

"No," Optimus admitted. "He cares about what he's always cared about: power, and the aliens are now a big threat to him. This is the real reason I returned. I made a grave error in the Vok's intent. Or perhaps I underestimated them. I don't know."

"We figured they want to use Earth t' get into this dimension," Rattrap put in. "Maybe even get t' Cybertron."

"That was what I thought as well," Optimus nodded grimly, "but I'm afraid it's worse than that. Yes, they do plan to enter this world without regard for how much damage they do, but this is their not true target. They..."

Suddenly, the door flew open. Cheetor was annoyed with Banachek's interruption but even more so when he saw Megatron following less than a foot behind the human. The director of Sector 7 muttered a quick apology, grabbed a remote control off his desk, and turned on the small television on the counter across the room. He did not really need to pick a channel.

The scroll at the bottom of the television screen named the city as Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, though aside from telling the Cybertronians that it was in the North East part of the country, it did not mean much to them. A few hours ago that part of the city may have been an affluent area, but much of what they could see lay in ruins now. The camera that was filming was shaky, but it was hard to tell just how much of the distortion was coming from that and how much was due to the wreckage around them. Either way it did not take long for everyone in the room to see just what was worth the interruption.

Rampage, bigger and possibly more twisted than any of them remembered, was going head to head with the fully transformed Depth Charge and Dinobot. Missiles and laser shots were flying in every direction bringing down buildings and overturning vehicles with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Thankfully there did not seem to be many signs of human casualties. They could only hope it was not due to the shaky view.

A deep cold silence settled on the room only be be be broken by Megatron.

"Huh," the Predacon observed the images as if it was the announcement of a sudden storm on the weather channel. "Well, I did tell him not to have too much fun."

Everyone slowly turned to stare at him.

"You disgust me," Cheetor said bluntly. Silverbolt looked like he could not have agreed more.

"Now, now," Megatron wagged his finger in the air, "don't be so hasty to scrap me just yet. Not when I may be your best chance of putting a stop to him with minimal bloodshed."

"As if you care," the young man spat.

"You care," Megatron reminded him. "Not that your presence is required, but I suppose you'll want to come along as well."

Banachek, the only human in the room, took that as his chance to get into the conversation. "General Sheppard insists on Marine escorts."

"By all means," the Predacon swept his arm in a grand gesture. "I love Marines."

If there was one thing to be said for Megatron is that he certainly knew how to make his presence felt and known to all. He left the room with an almost audible 'woosh' as if the air itself followed him out, and the silence returned.

Rattrap turned to Banachek. "You do know his name's Megatron, right?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Blackarachnia was not pleased as she followed the others into the hanger bay. Not by a long shot, but she also did not feel like fighting with her brother again so soon after they reconciled. Still, she did not have to pretend to be happy about being left behind.

"Sorry," at least he sounded apologetic, "but since you can't transform yet, you're of much better use to us here taking a look at that alien thing Rattrap and I brought back. Nightscream can keep you company."

"Gee, thanks. Leaving the women and children behind. Are we in the middle ages?"

"I, too, would feel better if I knew you were safe," Silverbolt walked beside her.

That figures, Blackarachnia could not help but role her eyes. The one time those two agree on something, it has to be something I don't like.

"Okay, whatever," she waved her hand dismissively. "Go have fun." She paused then focused her eyes on Silverbolt, "I want to talk to you. Alone."

Cheetor got the message, waved, and headed for the plane. When the space around them was fairly clear of ears, Blackarachnia stepped closer to her bond-mate and placed her palms on his chest for some kind of physical contact. It felt good.

"We didn't really talk last night," she said, "and I don't want you to downplay how bad this whole thing is for you. Will you be okay?"

She did not like having to ask. In ideal times, she would have been able to gage his response almost as if it had been her own. But the link they shared which allowed them to feel each others' emotions was not still not completely open. She had involuntarily built a mental wall on her end when she discovered Tarantulas was alive and well and now Blackarachnia did not know tow to full take it down again. In a misguided attempt to protect herself from her demon, she had crippled the way to help Silverbolt with his.

Thankfully he did seem to understand. Her mate took her smaller hands in his and squeezed gently. He was comforting her, Blackarachnia realized, trying to alleviate her fear of loosing him and guilt that she had blocked the link, even partially.

"I nearly lost you in the Technorganic War," he said, "not because of Megatron or Jetstorm, but because my behavior upon my return was entirely inappropriate. On my spark, I swear I will not fall to that darkness again."

He bent his head and kissed each of her hands in turn, and Blackarachnia smiled.

She felt better, if not entirely so.

The plane took off with all of its occupants, both Cybertronian and human, in silence. Cheetor had no desire to talk to Optimus or to Rattrap and Silverbolt about him. His former mentor was also quiet, sitting near the cockpit with his arms crossed and making a failing effort to relax. Megatron, meanwhile, had perfected the method. He sat opposite of Primal in a similar position, but his head was tipped back and eyes closed. A beatific but entirely unreadable smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Seven Marines sat at the back of the plane, looking rigid and alert. Cheetor thought it was odd having them there and did not really understand the need for their presence except to pacify General Sheppard who he decided he strongly disliked. Lieutenant Myers, who apparently lead the group, had one hand to her ear apparently listening to reports coming in. At one point she nodded, replied something inaudible, and took out the ear peace.

"Intelligence says the entire city and surrounding areas have been evacuated," she said to the Cybertronians, not really knowing who to address as their commander. "The fighting is still going on, though. Your friends have caused a significant amount of damage," she added, somehow managing to sound both disproving and still professionally cool.

"Their friends," Megatron corrected from across the plane, "but I'll be more than happy to help you nonetheless."

He opened his eyes and flashed her a smile that throughly disturbed everyone else. Optimus glared at him, but the Predacon just shrugged and went back to pretending to sleep. Since the silence had been broken, Rattrap decided to speak up.

"So since Chopperface and the sea food menu just outed us to the whole world, are we still playin' at keepin' a 'low profile'?"

"As much as we can," Cheetor replied before Optimus could say anything. "We don't know if anyone actually saw them transform. Just because humans know Cybertronians are back on Earth, doesn't mean they have to know it's us."

"And how do you plan' on makin' him," the rodent jabbed a finger in Megatron's direction, "go along with that? Low profile's never been his strong suit."

"Not my problem," the young commander's shrug would have seamed careless if it was not for all the anger in his body language. He turned his hard gaze on Optimus. "You brought him here, you babysit him. Any damage he does is on your hands."

* * * * * * * * * *

The place where they had brought the heart of the alien structure was not quite a laboratory, but rather a large room cluttered with almost random equipment. Humans busied themselves around it, running various tests and scans. Blackarachnia circled the structure to familiarize herself with it. It seemed technorganic, but then Rattrap had told her as much. She turned to the nearest human in the white lab coat.

"Have you run any sample tests to determine the properties of the material it's made of?"

The human looked started. "No, ma'am."

Blackarachnia gave him a cold look. "You are a scientist, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, but... well..."

"Tsk, tsk, Blackarachnia," her eyes narrowed as the man the humans knew as Dr. Khan and she knew as Tarantulas approach from her other side. "Intimidating poor innocent humans."

The human in question took the opportunity to quickly get out of her firring range and go back to whatever he was doing before. Blackarachnia took a defensive stance, folding her arms and glaring at her former partner. Now she really wished she had gone with the others.

"It's not my fault if he's incompetent," she shot back.

"Yes, as questionable as his competence is," Tarantulas walked over to one of the tables which, as she noted with alarm, held a verity of weapons, "in this case, it's not entirely his fault."

He picked up a very large and very sharp machete and return to the alien heart. Pausing to make sure she was paying attention, he unceremoniously and with a good deal of force stuck the knife into the wall of the structure and pulled down on it. Blackarachnia watched as the line he made almost instantly sowed itself shit again. Tarnatulas pulled out the weapon and replaced it.

"So it heals itself," the black widow mused, "even when separated from the rest of the structure. Then how did you get inside in the first place?"

"This," he held up an instrument of clearly Cybertronian design. "It doesn't like sonic attacks. Probably the organic half of it's nature."

Sonic?

The wheels in her head were turning and Blackarachnia suddenly whirled and headed back out of the makeshift lab.