Fate

'Warpath?'

'What?'

'I need you to do something for me.'

'What is it?'

'I heard a rumour about a promising young Autobot who I think has the potential to be a member of the Cyber-Ninja Corps. Unfortunately, he's also a deserter.'

'Deserter? You want me to knock some sense into him?'

'No, just retrieve him and bring him to me. I'd go after him myself, but I'm afraid the situation with Lockdown forces me to remain here. Just go find him. And don't hurt him.'

'…Not even a little bit?'

'Not even a dent.'

'…Fine. I'll go get the deserter, but I won't like it. What's his name?'

Outsider

Despite the violence, the completion of the Omega Sentinels renews the morale in the Metroplex. They decide to celebrate, for everyone is looking for any reason – no matter how small – to celebrate in these dark times.

It's at the gathering that Ratchet meets the Autobots bonded to the other Omega Sentinels. They're all clear choices for this assignment. They're confident, able-bodied soldiers prepared to accept orders without question. In a nutshell: the ideal Autobots. What's more, they're drawn together by similarity and circumstance, and they spend the evening in the center of the room, regaling tales of campaigns they've fought in.

Ratchet is the exact opposite. He's the second choice. The underdog. An accident. While they tell stories, he hovers on the edge of things and no one takes much notice of him.

Even among his own kind, he's an outsider.

Call

'You're asking too much,' Drift shook his head. 'Those are my friends out there! How can I fight my friends? ! I'm a Decepticon – how can I betray my own kind? !'

'What about that Autobot prisoner you let escape?'

'That was different.'

Kup put a servo on Drift's shoulder. He cringed at the contact. Most Decepticons would've tried to kill him by now, though it was for that reason that they were dead. 'If you want to do what's best for the Decepticons, change sides and save them from themselves.'

Distraction

'No.'

'C'mon, Percy!' Wheeljack steps right into the scientist's path. 'I only need, like, ten credits or something! Just enough to place a bet on the Iacon 5000!'

'Those bets you place are just distracting you from the bigger picture,' Perceptor reasons. 'In addition, I already lent you twice that amount last megacycle and you still have not repaid me.'

Colourless

Springer starts to go colour-blind shortly after the Wreckers resolve a situation on Pova in the usual fashion of gun-slinging and kicking Decepticon tail plates.

At first, he can't see certain shades of red. Then he can't see bright, vibrant colours; only hues of blue and purple and so on. Then he wakes up from a heavy recharge and finds that everything is in greyscale. What's more, the Wrecker's medic can't give him any explanation for his condition.

Impactor, in the meantime, speaks of making every Decepticon accountable for the Autobot losses. He says in a passionate voice to his Wreckers: "It's justice…justice for every 'bot who's paid the price in the line of duty. Show no hesitation and no mercy. Remember, the Autobots are the light and the Decepticons are the dark; they have to be extinguished in order for our society to move forwards. There is no other alternative…"

Tomorrow

'Why do I have to destroy Decepticons?' Omega asks.

Ratchet wants to tell him that he doesn't have to, but he has orders that he daren't disobey. 'Because it's the only way to save Autobot lives.'

Omega's simple processor accepts the response, but it's clear that he's disturbed by an awareness seeded deep within his mind.

'Tomorrow you'll feel better about it, Omega,' Ratchet consoles. 'Why don't you go recharge?'

Justified Actions

When Drift arrives, tension hangs high in the air and nobody is sure what Yoketron is thinking. Warpath decides he has to rectify the situation, so one day, when Drift is wandering the compound on his own, he corners the 'con and beats him until he's lying comatose in the infirmary.

Yoketron is furious.

'He's a Decepticon, so – BANG – I did what Autobots do,' Warpath justifies.

'He is no longer a Decepticon!' Yoketron presses. 'You, of all Cybertronians, should be sympathetic to his situation! A part of him will always be tied to the Decepticons, yes, but he has also renounced those ways and what he was is now in the past. I expect all students – past, present, and future – to accept him as one of their own!'

'I don't care. I did what any Autobot would do to a Decepticon. If I hadn't, he would've done something much worse to one of us. Decepticons need to be taken care of before they take care of us!'

'…If Decepticons are as vile as you seem to think, then why did he never throw a single punch back?' asked Yoketron.

Warpath doesn't have an answer for that.

Betrayal

Back among the Decepticons, Drift had heard stories about Warpath, but thought they'd just been fables loosely based on a dramatized truth. What he soon learns is that the truth is dramatic in every way.

Initially he'd thought he would find a kindred spirit in Warpath because of their similarities. After all, they were both ex-Decepticons, both associated with the Corps, and – heck, it's even clear in the way Warpath speaks and moves that he's Decepticon bred. It's the sort of company Drift has been missing ever since he defected. But that hasn't been the case. Warpath does not speak of his past and he pretends it never happens.

After the attack, Drift makes a point to avoid Warpath and vice versa. That doesn't stop him from wondering what he'd done to provoke him; Warpath's hatred of Decepticons can't be that strong.

Yoketron later explains it. Warpath's hatred of Decepticons is that strong, but there's another reason.

Drift is proud of his Decepticon origins. Warpath isn't.

Tread

'Blech!'

Brawn sighs and looks in exasperation at his companion.

'What is it this time?' Brawn demands, shouldering his blaster.

'I just stepped on something slimy!' the Autobot exclaims. 'And it moved!'

Brawn peers wearily down at the oil seeping in around his knees with the distinct feeling that they are about to be attacked.

Out of Control

Iacon is trying to rebuild after the recent bombings. Arcee is comatose. There's news that Primal Major and a crew of forty-three on board Alpha Supreme have disappeared – presumed destroyed – and Autobots are calling for revenge. The Magnus is preparing a fleet.

Ratchet knows nothing good will come of this.

Nicknames

Everyone at the dojo has a nickname. There's Fistface, Sound Effects, X-Con, Mr. T, and many more. Even Prowl has one. It's "Smiles." He won't admit it to anyone, but he actually thinks it's amusing, except for when someone yells "Hey, Smiles" when Dai Atlas is in earshot. Regardless, it makes him feel like he belongs.

Oil Slick has a nickname, too.

Everyone out there is talking about the Decepticon Menace. In here, everyone is talking about the Decepticon Chemist.

Everyone laughs. Everyone thinks it's funny and ironic.

None of them have any idea how accurate they are.

Fathom

Wheeljack returns to the laboratory waving a datapad. 'Latest on the death toll, Perceptor.'

'How many?' Perceptor doesn't even look up from the electron microscope his optic is glued to.

'A lot.'

Wheeljack scans the list, unconsciously searching for names familiar to him. It's hard to fathom that all these names belong to Autobots who once lived and breathed and felt, but who are now charred corpses floating through space.

Successful

Wheeljack laughs. 'SUCCESS! WE DID IT! I'm a genius, I tell you! GENIUS!'

'Our success in this endeavour does not require maniacal laughter,' Perceptor says flatly. 'And might I add that my intelligence considerably exceeds yours.'

'Lighten up, Percy.'

'Do not call me "Percy."'

Gesture of trust

'Slaggit!'

Brawn struggled valiantly against the trap, but the more he struggled the more the trap tugged back.

The trap should've killed him. He was fortunate (or unfortunate) that at the last minute he'd seen it coming, jumped a quarter to the left, and the trap had consequently snagged his foot. Now, aside from the intense pain radiating up the right side of his body, he was incapable of going anywhere without ripping his whole leg off, and, on top of it all, he was deep in enemy territory and the Decepticons were mere minutes behind him.

He made a conscious decision that if he couldn't get free in the next five cycles, he'd tear his leg off. It wasn't his favourite idea, but it might be his only option.

At the sound of movement, he grabbed his blaster and fired a shot off. The Decepticon he'd fired at – having just turned the corner – ducked back out of sight. The 'con fearlessly emerged after a few nanokliks. Brawn prepared to fire again.

'Don't shoot!' The Decepticon raised his servos in defence. 'I'm going to free you.'

Brawn eyed him. 'Why?'

'Because it's been a long day and I'm tired; trust me, okay?' the Decepticon took a step closer, only to come face to face with the barrel of a blaster. 'Look, neither of us wants this. If you're captured, the other Decepticons in my brigade will offline you slowly and painfully. Believe me, if this was your run-of-the-mill battle, I'd be happy to fight you, but not like this. Just trust me.'

Brawn heard some raised voices from somewhere nearby. He knew by instinct that they were Decepticons.

He lowered the blaster and, before he could really react, the Decepticon had come within killing range and released the trap. Injured, but still able to walk, Brawn stumbled back and disappeared.

He didn't fully comprehend what had happened until he was back among Autobots. For the first time since the war started, he thought that maybe the prospect of peace has some merit.

Hurt

Ratchet cringes and protects the injured Autobot as a portion of the trench slides onto them. When it's still, he turns back to his patient.

'Will this hurt? !' wails the Autobot.

'Yes, it will,' Ratchet replies. He knows there's no point in menial lying. He turns to the Autobot's friend, who hasn't left his side since his comrade fell. 'Hold him down and whatever you do, don't let go.'

It's times like this – when his patient is howling and squirming underneath the scalpel – that he misses his EMP generator.

Deny

'Your experiments are unconventional and deadly…Even Decepticons would hesitate to use your "Cosmic Rust…" Request denied.'

Oil Slick storms out of the Ministry of Silence and for not the first time, his request to develop weapons has been denied. That means he has to go back to his laboratory and develop them in secret.

He squeezes the vial in his servo.

"Even Decepticons would hesitate to use Cosmic Rust…"

Maybe it's time to put that statement to the test.