Starscream scowled as Laserbeak finished playing his recording, as if he'd just bitten into something foul-tasting. "A werewolf? Are these stupid Autobots really that gullible? It would be bad enough if they started seeing imaginary Horrorcons around, but beasts from human mythology?"

"If I wanted your opinion, Starscream, I would have asked for it," Megatron snapped.

"Don't tell me you're believing this folderol too," Starscream grumbled, ignoring the silver warlord. "So one of their fool scouts saw a wild dog in the forest and is screaming 'werewolf' about it. What business is it of ours?"

It had become common practice for the Decepticons to send cassettes into the Ark on a regular basis, gathering what intelligence they could regarding their enemy. Red Alert did his best to keep the pests out, constantly updating security measures and monitoring every possible weak point, but Soundwave's minions were persistent, and had grown adept at finding gaps in security. At least once every few weeks one or more were able to sneak inside, and while often they came back with nothing more useful than song lyrics or a recording of a particularly entertaining brawl in the common room, every once in awhile they struck gold… often enough for Megatron to keep sending them back.

Whether the bizarre report that an Autobot had spotted a Horrorcon on this planet would prove to be valuable information or just another burst of weirdness from Prime's crew had yet to be determined. Starscream had already made up his CPU on the matter, but Megatron looked oddly thoughtful… a dangerous expression for him.

Soundwave opened his chest to eject Laserbeak. "Follow-up of Horrorcon report: recommended."

"What?" Starscream shrilled. "Has every mech in the command element lost their minds?!"

"Shut up, you imbecile!" Megatron growled. "Under normal circumstances we would dismiss this story as nothing more than Prime's troops giving in to human flights of fancy. But Soundwave says Rumble has uncovered something else interesting regarding this affair."

Soundwave nodded and opened his chest, letting Rumble climb inside. The violet cassette began his own recording, detailing a conversation between Ratchet and Wheeljack regarding a certain patient's self-repair systems. As the recording continued a sly smile crossed Megatron's faceplate, and his optics practically glowed with glee.

"So… this Horrorcon encounter has given that Autobot scout a unique ability. One that can possibly be made to benefit our own cause."

"How does an invincible Autobot benefit our cause?" Starscream countered. "Just makes him all the more difficult to take out. Hound already refuses to stay dead no matter how many times he gets shot down in battle; now he'll be practically impossible to offline."

"You have a CPU in that cranial shell of yours," Megatron retorted. "Use it! If Hound's ability to self-repair rapidly after damages can be transferred to our own troops, it could save us valuable time and resources… and make us virtually indestructible on the battlefield. Optimus Prime would be powerless to stop us from wiping his kind out and taking over this world and Cybertron once and for all!"

"Drawbacks to Hound's ability: evident," Soundwave pointed out. "Accelerated self-repair systems pose risk to carriers."

"Hook can find some sort of protective measures," Megatron said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "For now… we make Hound our target. Send the Stunticons out to apprehend him. And remember – I want him alive and in one piece." A wicked smirk crossed his faceplate. "Once we've transferred his new ability to our troops, however… they may do with him what they will. They might get some amusement out of having a toy that never breaks permanently…"

Students at Portland State University were taking advantage of the unusually sunny weather to lounge around outside on their lunch breaks, sprawled out in the leaf-strewn grass as they ate, studied, or listened to music. Summer attire had finally given way to long sleeves and fashionable scarves, though heavier coats and clothing wouldn't be broken out until deeper into the autumn season. A group of light-hearted students had somehow gotten hold of a rake and were sweeping fallen leaves into a massive pile, then taking flying leaps into the heap and scattering them in every direction. The sun wouldn't last forever, and they were determined to make the most of it.

The arrival of an Autobot on the scene should have turned heads, and a few underclassmen did set down their sandwiches or iPods to gape as the green minibot shuffled through the leaves on his way to the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences. But most simply tuned him out and went back to reading or goofing off in the leaf pile. Autobots had become such a common sight in Portland that few people gave them a second glance, and this particular Autobot frequented the university enough that he had become an accepted part of life for most students.

Cosmos sidestepped a young woman on her cell phone, who seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that she was lying directly in his path, before making his way for the building proper. He had a couple of friends in the science department here, and they often let him come in for friendly chats and so they could "pump his brain" for astronomy-related information. His problem now had nothing to do with astronomy, but hopefully one of them could still help him.

He shook a few leaves off his feet as he stepped into the building itself. Despite it being two weeks until Halloween, the building had been lavishly decorated for the holiday – black and orange garlands decorated the walls, fake spider webs dotted with plastic spiders festooned the ceiling and various bulletin boards, and the occasional plastic skeleton or bat leered from the doors. Some enterprising student had taken the creepy edge off the skeletons by sticking goofy hats on their skulls, a touch that Cosmos found rather amusing.

A door bearing a skeleton sporting a bright red fez and bow tie opened, and a gray-haired, tan-skinned man of middling height and wearing bifocals stepped out, a coffee cup in one hand and a haggard look on his face. When he spotted Cosmos, however, he grinned brightly.

"Cozzie!" he exclaimed, holding out his free hand. "Long time no see!"

"Hello, Professor Gupta," Cosmos greeted, taking the man's hand delicately in his and shaking it. "How are you faring?"

"Very well, very well! Our department has had a splendid time with that meteor chunk you brought back for us. I can't thank you enough for that!"

"It's really no problem, Professor – it was just a bit of space rock that got caught in my joints on a mission."

"That bit of space rock can teach us a great deal about the universe, Cozzie." Gupta grinned even wider. "Delightful, delightful… I wish you would come around more. You're always a treat to talk to."

"I'm sorry I haven't been around. Optimus Prime has kept me busy."

"No worries, no worries, I understand that duty calls." He sighed and took a swig of his drink. "I've been busier than ever as well with the fall semester starting. But you're in luck – my classes for the rest of the day have been cancelled. Something about a gas leak in the lecture hall."

"Oh… that's lucky." Cosmos just hoped he was wearing enough of a poker face that Professor Gupta didn't catch on that the "gas leak" was technically his fault. Or rather, the twins' fault – he'd bribed them to release a harmless but nasty-smelling gas in the lecture hall by promising to take over their patrols for the next week. Normally he didn't like to encourage Sideswipe's pranking, but this time he figured it was worth it.

"I had hoped you could help me," Cosmos explained.

"Is something wrong?" the professor asked. "Or did you have questions? I wager you know more about astronomy than I do, but I'll do my best…"

"Actually… how much do you know about mythology? Your kind's mythology?"

Professor Gupta pursed his lips in thought. "I'm an astronomy professor, not humanities… but I know some. What precisely were you hoping to learn? I'm most familiar with the Hindu mythology – and the Greek, since it's their constellations we tend to use."

"Well... lycanthropes, to be specific. Werewolves."

His eyes lit up, and he grinned. "Ah! Getting ready for Halloween, are we? Well, I might not know much about werewolf lore, but I know someone who might be able to help us. Follow me."

Cosmos obeyed, trailing after the astronomy professor. He led him down another hallway and to a large-ish room that appeared to be a small library, also decorated with spider webs and some strategically placed fake skeletons for the holiday. At a desk in the back sat a tall, thin woman with hair that stood out in a profusion of blond curls, muttering to herself as she studiously stamped books.

"This isn't the university library, is it?" asked Cosmos, looking around. Perceptor liked to come to the University of Portland to study from time to time, and from his description he had pictured the library looking a lot bigger.

"Oh no, oh no, this is just for the science department. Call it a branch of the main library if you will." He walked up to the desk and snapped his fingers. "Mrs. Budiansky! You have a patron!"

"Library's closed during class hours," she replied without looking up, stamping another book.

"Mrs. Budiansky, this is Cosmos, a friend of mine. He needs your help."

"Tell him to come back after four o'clock like anyone else."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, can you at least LOOK at him?"

She glanced up, squinting at Cosmos as if she were incredibly short-sighted. "Huh… you didn't say he was an Autobot. Unless you've made it a habit to start dragging Decepticons onto campus." And she returned to her stamping without another word. "Checkouts are for university students only."

"Mrs. Budiansky, I really do need your help," Cosmos told her. "Professor Gupta tells me you're the person to talk to about werewolves."

Her stamp hovered in the air, and she looked at him with a bit more interest. "Doing a Halloween project?"

Cosmos took in a deep intake, bracing himself for laughter or teasing. "I think… I think a friend of mine has been bitten by one."

Mrs. Budiansky gave him a long look. Then she got up and, without a word, went to a door tucked neatly between two overstuffed bookshelves. She ducked inside, then a few minutes later came out with a stack of books.

"Whereabouts was he bitten?" she asked in a businesslike manner, as if she were a medic inquiring about a patient's symptoms.

"In the shoulder."

She gave him a look of exasperation. "I mean where was he when he got bit. His geographical location."

"Oh! Um, Virginia, in the Appalachian Mountains."

"Thank you." She tossed the first book aside and began flipping through the second. "That narrows it down a bit. Probably not a skinwalker, then… could be an Old European one, though, some probably crossed over with the immigrants…"

"Mrs. Budiansky is obsessed with creatures from folklore," Professor Gupta explained. "She loves them. Knows all there is to know about Bigfoot and werewolves and wendigos…"

"That's Sasquatch, not Bigfoot," she corrected, flipping open another page. "Okay, green guy…"

"Cosmos."

"Cosmos." She looked up at him. "What do you want to know?"

"Well… he's been acting strangely since he was bitten. Do werewolves carry disease?"

"Hell yes, they do. Lycanthropy. Your friend's gonna turn into a werewolf."

Cosmos felt his pump skip a few pulses at that. "You mean… he'll become a monster?"

"Not all the time," she replied. "Most of the time he'll look perfectly normal. Some myths have it that people with lycanthropy take on some wolf-ish characteristics, though – their features might shift to look wolvish, they might be more aggressive than before, their senses are heightened, sometimes they become physically stronger or faster… depends on the myth. But on nights with a full moon, they shift totally into werewolf form."

That explained a great deal – Hound's sudden moodiness, his increased time outdoors, and his optics changing color. And wasn't there a full moon the night he was attacked? It made perfect sense.

"Will he be dangerous?"

Mrs. Budiansky raised an eyebrow. "Werewolves might look humanoid, but they operate on animal instincts. And those instincts are to hunt and eat. You tell me."

Cosmos shuddered. "But Hound is gentle… most of the time. He's friendly. Surely he'll remember us as his friends…"

"Your friend's name is Hound?" She snorted a bit. "And he got bit by a werewolf? That'd be funny under different circumstances. But Cosmos, kid, lycanthropes don't care who you are or what you mean to them under different phases of the moon – once the moon's full and they've shifted, they're out for blood. Or oil, or whatever you guys got."

Then it was worse than they thought. Hound wasn't just suffering from an illness – he was well on his way to becoming a monster. And if they couldn't stop it in time, he would be more dangerous to them than even the worst Decepticon.

"Is there a cure? Can we stop him?"

She flipped through a few more pages. "The classic way to stop a werewolf for good is silver bullets. Lead won't cut it. Silver knife might work too, if you can get one. But silver's the key – it's fatal to them."

Cosmos winced. "Anything besides that?"

"Wolfsbane's fatal to them too. Holy water might work too…"

"Anything that won't kill him?"

"Sweetheart, most people are more worried about whether the wolf'll kill them than if they'll kill the wolf." She returned her attention to the text. "Says here that some myths have it that converting the wolf to Christianity'll cure it. I wouldn't put too much stake in that, though."

"This is getting rather silly," Professor Gupta pointed out. "You two talk as if your friend really has become a werewolf."

Mrs. Budiansky smirked at the professor. "The old myths exist for a reason. And our friend here, who's from a race a lot more scientifically minded than us silly humans, believes his friend's been bit by one. I wouldn't call that silly." She looked back at Cosmos. "Given that you guys are robots, I'd say either wolfsbane or belladonna are your best bet – both have been used in medieval times to try to cure lycanthropy. Granted, they're also poisonous to humans… but maybe your kind will be safe."

Cosmos nodded. Cybertronians were still susceptible to certain toxins, but a plant-based toxin should be at least somewhat safe. If nothing else, they could try to convince Wheeljack or Perceptor to see if they could modify the plant's chemical properties and figure out just what chemical could cure Hound without contaminating his systems.

"If I were you, Cosmos, I'd hurry," Mrs. Budiansky advised. "You've got two weeks until the next full moon. I'd try to cure your friend by then if you don't want a wild beast on your hands."

The white-tailed buck had just lowered his head to rub his antlers against a tree, trying to remove the last of the velvet from his antlers, but a rustle in the brush made him pause. He raised his head, ears swiveling back and forth as he tried to pinpoint where the sound had come from. He was a good-sized specimen with an impressive spread of antlers, and he hadn't lived this long without learning to be cautious. New sounds almost always meant trouble, especially in these woods…

A huge form moved through the trees with impossible silence, and the buck barely bounded out of the way before several tons of green-and-black metal landed on the spot where he'd been standing just moments before. The mech tensed himself for another pounce, but the deer was already bolting away at full speed, threading its way through the trees.

Hound snarled quietly and clenched his fists in frustration. Too slow, too noisy. Next time he wouldn't be so careless.

And just what were you planning on doing with it when you caught it? he thought to himself. Autobots don't eat meat, and Prime's hardly going to let you display its head in your room…

He stood and brushed his hands off on his legs, troubled at what he'd just attempted to do. A matter of weeks ago, the thought of hurting any organic creature would have been repulsive. And here he was stalking them like some kind of predator, almost without thinking. Was this another side effect to his new illness? What had Cosmos called it – lycanthropy? Werewolf-ism?

He looked himself over, frowning. Was it his imagination, or was his plating going darker? He'd always been an odd dark shade of green, but now it was darkening and taking on a brown tinge, more closely matching the needles of the pine trees surrounding him. His white and yellow highlights were darkening as well, to a smoky gray and a tawny brown respectively. Another mech might say it was just a side effect of him avoiding the wash racks for the past couple of weeks, but now he had to wonder if it wasn't his body adjusting to his new status as a Horrorcon…

Ratchet's voice cut in on the radio, interrupting that train of thought.

Hound! I know you're out there! Stop acting like a sparkling and get your aft in my medbay ASAP! Don't make me send Grimlock out to hunt you down!

I'm coming, Hound lied. Just give me a bit.

You said you were coming two hours ago, Ratchet grumped. Get down here so we can figure out what's wrong with you. And don't say that you know perfectly well what's wrong, that a werewolf bit you. I thought we agreed there wasn't a Horrorcon out there.

If you're willing to believe my story, I'll come down there, Hound told him. Until then… you'll have to catch me first.

Primus-dammit, Hound! If I have to send someone out there to hunt you down…

Hound froze, every joint and servo in his body tensing. Ratchet's ranting was making it difficult to hear, but a peculiar smell had just caught his attention. His olfactory senses had always been exceptionally keen, able to track a mech simply by his exhaust trail, but his newfound condition seemed to have made it all the more sensitive. Someone was coming… and judging by the faint but unique chemical combination, there was only one group of mechs it could be…

I'll call you back, Ratchet.

Don't you hang up on me-

Hound silenced his radio and raised his head, getting another faint whiff of the intruder. Motormaster… the semi truck had brought his entire team. For what purpose, he had no idea… but why they were here didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was stopping them before they could reach the Ark.

He slunk toward the road, every step nearly silent, his green chassis nearly invisible as he kept to the shadows. If he was going to have an urge to hunt, he might as well hunt worthwhile prey.