Chapter Title Credit: Pacific Rim

I hope Prowl isn't to OOC, but it's new ground for working on Flatline! I haven't read a single fanfiction with him yet, and he's just plan insane and evil in my book! And loves to do surgery and implants on his victims. Changing, altering, and adding parts. He would transform in to Hearse if he lived on Earth.

Chapter III: The Monsters at Our Door Part I

The Xanthium.

The cold sun of Cybertron was rising behind the magnificent ship. It looked like a metal bird, standing tall and proud in the yellow light, and you could plainly see why the Wreckers took such pride in their spacecraft. The ship itself was smooth and rounded with gleaming thick defense plates and orange-class fueled engine parts. Alien in design, it was, but with powerful thrusters and shielding to make up in its lack of offensive weapons. A fleet ship, a transport ship, a ship that would fly them through space until they reached…something.

But why did Jolt feel like he was running away?

The medic dropped his medical case at this feet and he looked around at his surroundings. Tyger Pax was still smoking in the distance and the cold sun's rays illuminated the twisted and dead remains of the city. The hexagonal structures above Tyger Pax had collapsed into the skyscrapers and highways, the resulting image reminded Jolt of the broken ribs of a picked clean organic carcass he had once helped examine with the science department. The city had been hit the hardest during the battle for the All Spark, and the Autobots were lucky enough to find a hidden base on the outskirts. Since Iacon was no longer inhabitable. Jolt would have called it a miracle for how long they have been able to survive, but he didn't really believe in miracles anymore.

The launch pad was wide and flat, and a wide-open target. But the skyscrapers and the wreckage in the streets around the launch pad shielded it from unwanted eyes. Also the magnetic disruptors on the rooftops messed up the Decepticon warships' and Seeker's sensors so badly, they avoided the area completely. This was the launch pad where the All Spark jettisoned off planet. Thick fuel lines snaked across the launch pad, and the nozzles attached to the fuel tanks of the spacecraft. The few spare drones on base checked the connections between the lines while the Autobots focused on loading up.

Roadbuster and Leadfoot were on the catwalks around the Xanthium, shouting profanities and spitting all over the place as they prepared the ship. Topspin shook his helm at his fellow Wreckers' behavior, sometimes they were beyond rude. The blue Wrecker vaulted the railing and dropped to the ground to move a giant black device out of range from the rocket's blast. The device was valuable, and having it reduced to a melting pile of scrap would only cause headaches.

Jolt looked behind him and he studied the only entrance and exit to the secluded launch pad. He wanted to be out there, looking for his friends and seeking his revenge on Thundercracker, but he had already made his decision to go with the Xanthium. Prowl had even given him the green light, so he couldn't back out. But he couldn't help himself when he felt like he was betraying their trust, and leaving his friends behind.

Stop it Jolt, he scolded himself. You've made a commitment, and you'll have to follow through with it. Prowl promised he would send a unit of drones to look for them, and Prowl never breaks a promise.

"Jolt, I want to wish you good luck."

The blue medic turned around to see First-Aid standing behind him. The red medic stepped forward and handed him a strange device. It looked like some kind of battery, but was more sleek and interconnected and the size of Jolt's forearm. There was a panel to display information on the side of the device and it read 'Empty' in Cybertronian.

"What's this?" asked the younger medic.

"It's an Emergency Power Generator and Energon Converter, or an EPGC, it's small, but it works. You might have heard about it, but only a few senior medics actually have one," said the quiet medic. He continued explaining at Jolt's raised optic ridge. "It's for situations where you're not around your medical kit or tools and you need the extra juice for… whatever. You're electric abilities will always keep it charged so it'll be ready whenever you need it. I redesigned it so that it would fit your frame and capabilities," First-Aid paused and smiled behind his facemask. "Consider it a departing gift."

Jolt stared at the medic, blue optics shuttering slowly. He then watched his surprise expression turn into gratitude in the reflection of First-Aid's visor.

"Thank you First-Aid. I know this will come in handy one day," he smiled and held the EPGC up into the light. Jolt then held it up to his left forearm and the paneling there opened and he slid the device in. The EPGC synced with his systems and a progress bar appeared at the side of his HUD and began to slowly creep forward. "It works."

Jolt's optics softened and he held a servo out to the medic. "Thanks First-Aid, I really appreciate it," First-Aid grabbed his servo and they shook hands. "'Till all are one."

"Be safe Jolt. Keep your crew alive, but always make sure you're functional first."

Jolt smiled, blue optics shining, at his friends caring statement. The medics saluted each other in a friendly manner, and First-Aid walked back to stand with Prowl and the rest of the officers that came to watch the launch.

Be safe, old friend. Thought Jolt as he watched First-Aid's retreating form.

"C'mon Jolt, we gotta go."

Jolt huffed at the silver front-liner for ruining the moment. Sideswipe was so pushy at times. He picked up his case and followed the mech to the catwalks where they would board.

…

Prowl watched the Xanthium's rockets pour off steam. The bunker they were in was safely tucked away from the launch pad and the few mechs that came to see the launch had crammed themselves into the small room. Bluestreak was at the terminal with a microphone to his mouth; he was on the PA system counting down, slowly and at a steady pace.

3…2…1…blast off!

Rocket fuel ignited and a wall of sound slammed against the bunker as the ground quaked and heat rolled. The air quivered and the noise thundered and crackled and it moved against their frames as if it was a real object. Prowl dimmed his audio receptors as the ground shaking rumbling continued to rise to higher decibels.

The Xanthium gained altitude and rose through the layered levels of the hexagonal rings in the sky. The spacecraft cleared the obstacles and the bunker cheered with the lift off! The Xanthium rocketed higher with pale yellow light shining against its hull and the black and blue expanse of space stretching above it. The nebula's light was dimmer against the sun's brightness, but the thin atmosphere still allowed it to bleed through.

The Autobots walked out and their necks craned into the sky to see the ship leave the atmosphere safely. The thundering sound of the rockets pounded in the air with a column of smoke behind it and the Xanthium quickly disappeared until it was just a speck. They hoped that none of the Decepticons noticed its departure, or it would be shot down like the Ark many cycles ago.

The Xanthium would travel faster than the usual transition pod, Prowl knew. That's why some of his best warriors were on board, so that they could be a first responding crew to any word from Optimus Prime. Speed was at the essence of their situation.

Prowl stood in the clearing smoke on the launch pad once the Xanthium had left his sensors. The choking substance now was a light fog and the shafts of sunlight that streamed through the skyscrapers made his spark spin funny. For once his logical centers were not the only ones sending information, but his emotional ones as well. There was nothing left here for them, he realized. Why stay when their enemy was leaving, and when they were struggling to survive on the little resources they had left? It was time for the Autobots to leave Cybertron and head to the stars. And Prowl knew and understood that. After he discussed the issue with his officer, and a decision was made; they would join the search for the All Spark.

The white and black SiC opened a secured communication channel to all the Autobots left on Cybertron. He began with a calm voice, and soon it grew confident with his decision.

"2,627 meta-cycles have passed since we have heard word from our respectable leader, Optimus Prime. The Prime left me in charge of our forces stationed here on Cybertron until he returned with the All Spark. It is logical to say, faltering hope has begun to settle in and it is time to take a new course of action.

"On this day, I declare it is time we join our Prime and begin to look to the stars for answers. To either end this war, to find resources, or to find the Cube.

"Without a purpose in mind, we will run in circles and become slacked in our work and security. Allowing a perfect chance for the Decepticons to stage a tactical ambush and take our legions out. I can command you to leave, but you will be leaving behind all that you know. The choice is yours. If you accept, prepare your ships and ready your transition forms, gather supplies and lock down your outposts. Your orders have already been sent to your officer in charge. 'Till all are one, Prowl signing off."

…

Thundercracker's lumbering, jagged, steel frame prowled down the halls of his base on a secluded moon system away from Cybertron. The lights embedded in the walls flashed on as he strode down the bronze halls with darkness just a few feet in front of him. A blood chilling smile pulled at his lip plates, revealing sharp-pointed teeth. Thundercracker was full of evil glee; he had finally caught some Autobots that would jumpstart creating his new soldier.

The Seeker marched into the operation room with five Payloads behind him. The dusty blue and single opticed droids carried his quarry for the prideful seeker. Each one of the Autobots were injured, from broken limbs to sparking joints and ripped lines; and each had stasis cuffs around their wrists to keep their frames immobile.

Flatline looked up from the dead protoform he was working on. The extra silver surgical hands stilled and green lubricants dripped as he stared at Thundercracker with suspicion. The mech never came in here with that smug of a smile on his face before.

The surgical specialist was black with silver attached appendages on his upper back and lower chest; they held an arsenal of lasers and helped him in his more 'delicate' work when performing an operation. His mouth always hung somewhat open due and thick large teeth on his lower jaw, gave they him the look of a skeleton's head. His ruby red optics was shield behind a clear operation visor and red accents decorated his shoulders and helm. Flatline was tall, and slightly hunched over wide shoulders, but he wasn't as tall as Thundercracker. He also considered himself more on the mad side of scientific studies.

Thundercracker was large and deadly. He had the grace of a trained hunter, but not the controlled emotions of an assassin. His shark like head was made of sharp angled blue and silver segments and his vermillion optics was filled with permanent rage. Thundercracker's pointed armor was cunning blue, like a poisonous blue frog, with orange and silver accents on his chest, upper arms, and lower legs. He also radiated a deep fear when he entered a room, and he enjoyed striking fear into the sparks of others.

"Thundercracker, I wasn't expecting you until later," said Flatline is his deep, almost snake-like voice.

"Enough with pleasantries, Flatline. I want you to begin experiment on our new," paused Thundercracker, looking for the correct term. "Specimen."

Flatline dropped the cold protoform on the table and turned to look what Thundercracker was mentioning. The seeker stepped to the side to let the Payloads drop their loads into the brigs around the Flatline's lair. The activated the energy field and orange beams of light shot across horizontally, a substitute for metal bars.

"Autobots?" asked Flatline in astonishment. "Alive ones at that," he muttered. Thundercracker nodded smugly, and he picked at his claws as if there was a scrap of metal between them.

"Caught them completely by surprise. They didn't stand a chance," Thundercracker turned to order his Payloads away and they left the room and the thick blast doors slid shut behind them. "I want you to start on my new breed of soldiers."

"And what do you have in mind?" asked Flatline as he examined the unconscious bots through the energy field.

"Figure out the secrets of the twins processor. Those idiots were not very good in battle. You can convince them that you're… helping them," Thundercracker motioned to the twins and Flatline had to hold down his shivering armor at the sound of his voice. Even though he's worked with Thundercracker for a long time, he still had the heebie-jeebies around him. "And for the other two… you're welcome to start the implants tonight.

"Keep me updated on your progress. I have another Autobot ship to hunt down."

Thundercracker turned to leave, and he casted a menacing look over his shoulder. "Do what you wish Flatline. But keep them online until I tell you so. And, go light on the sedatives."

Flatline watched the insane seeker make his exit through the blast doors. And the surgeon cackled to himself. That last comment sent spirals of glee flying through his spark. Finally he'd have some fun!

The black surgeon turned to start running scans on the stasis locked Autobots. Oh, he'd start his planning now. He would present Thundercracker with the soldier they have always dreamed about. He didn't care if it was wrong, or torturous, he just wanted results, and he wanted them yesterday.

[07-11-13] KTABay: I could have made this a big long chapter. But I wanted to break it up and get it up here. Like the comment above. "The Monsters at Our Door" is a quote from Pacific Rim. (And I'm so excited to see an early showing tonight!)

If you haven't already noticed, I like to write my stories as if they were movies. I try to make sure everything is visualized to how I want you to see it. So, I hope you enjoy my writing style, because that's just who I am. Bear with me as I try writing what goes on in a characters head. O.o Not necessarily one of my strong suits.

And what's that Jolt has? A EPGC? n.n There's a reason for why it's there! But that's waaaaay in the future!

2,627 meta-cycles is equivalent to about 93 years. According to a time chart I found, a meta-cycle is 13 months. 13x2627=34788 Divide by 365, and you get it. :D

NEXT CHAPTER -The Monsters at Our Door Part II: Flatline begins his implants on Ricochet and Ativii. And the twins are tricked into letting him get a look at their processors.

Reviews are much appreciated. And if you catch any mistakes, please tell me. I'm only 15 so I don't always catch them, even with help. :D

Much Love,

KeepingThemAtBay

Autobotgirl2234: There's your answer! They are alive, but for how long...? Duh, duh, duh!