This chapter is actually three mashed together because individually they were too short. Enjoy!

Song: "Wake Me Up" - Avicii

Wheeljack is eleven orns old. Pyro is five. Perceptor is twelve. Pharma is eleven. Wolfsbane is five.

781.05.48

Altihex was a higher caste city home to artists - audial and visual, scientists, engineers, and even medics. It was a peaceful city, but there was the occasional crime, as in every densely populated area.

With the Second Quintesson War looming on the horizon, Cybertron was preparing itself for battle. Bots now stored blasters and blades in their homes, and a few had even scanned some onto their T-cogs. Younglings were usually accompanied by adults or older younglings, and no one was allowed out during the night cycle.

The academy in Altihex was a prestigious place, and most who went their led a good life. They learned science, math, and the other basics, but each youngling was allowed to choose a class that pertained to their caste. For example, younglings assigned to the art caste could choose music, comedy, visual arts, theater arts, architecture, acting, and other such classes. Scientists could choose the medical class, engineering, experimentations, chemistry, etc. Since Altihex was a city based on art and science, those were the main castes they supported. Any youngling who got a separate caste was usually shipped off to an academy in another city focused on their talent.

"Hurry up, Pyro!" called a red, white, and green mechling as he raced out the doors of the academy. His younger brother bolted out after him, servos spread wide and helm thrust into the air.

"Freedom at last!" he yelled. Pyro was assigned to the science caste, but he couldn't make up his mind on what to be. A medic? No, too gory. An engineer? No, he didn't want to copy Wheeljack. A chemist? Now that he thought about it, it had a nice ring to it. Dr. Pyro the Chemical Labs Expert. Besides, he would get to create cool new potions and other stuff - right?

Wheeljack, on the other hand, was going to be an engineer, like his sire. He already had about a gazillion ideas for things to build. Unfortunately, his inventions had a tendency to explode.

"Come on, we're gonna be late!" he said impatiently. Finally Pyro caught up, and they walked home.

"Home" being on the other side of the city, unfortunately. Wheeljack's family lived on the opposite side of Altihex, in the poor sector. His creators were both scientists, but the richer, higher families always seemed to "steal" their glory (well, that's what the low castes, said, anyway). Wheeljack didn't entirely understand it all, but he knew from his sire's rants that he didn't like the richer families who lived in the nicer sectors near the academy.

It started getting darker and darker the further they went. Something didn't feel right to Wheeljack, but he just assumed he was being paranoid. He was so very, very wrong.

When they arrived at their complex, the door was cracked open just a bit. Pyro started walking slower, suspicious. It was uncommon in the poor sector for doors to be left open, as thieves patrolled the streets daily and took every chance they could get to steal some poor mech or femme's valuables.

Wheeljack cautiously approached the door and shifted his servo into a flashlight. Pyro clung to his strut and peeked out from behind him.

That's odd, all the lights are off.

He slowly put his digit up to the button and pushed it, causing the bright lights to flicker on with a hiss.

Sire needs to replace those bulbs, he thought instinctively as he continued through the entrance room. He walked into a small hallway which had doors on either side lining the walls. The door at the very end was the master bedroom.

They checked every room, but there was nothing. All they could find were crooked photographs in their room, some scattered test tubes in the lab, and most of Aftershock's tools cracked in half on his workbench.

The only room left was the master bedroom. Pyro tried pushing the activation button, but the doors were locked. Finally Wheeljack wedged a crowbar he had found in his sire's lab between them and got them to spread apart. What was inside horrified the younglings.

The walls were soaked with Energon. The berths were tipped over, and a light beam was even hanging down from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a half organic, half robotic creature that the younglings had never seen before. The creature was encased in some kind of large, robotic exosuit that filled up the room, and its face was marred with a large scar slashing across the space where its left eye had been. The right eye was coal black and cold, and its skin was sickening shade of green. Several tentacle-like appendages emerged from its head and face, adding to the grotesqueness of it all.

It stared Wheeljack down, then grinned with a sickly smile that horrified him to no end. "Hello there, young ones. Are you looking for someone?" it hissed. Pyro nodded, but Wheeljack started to back up towards the door, until another creature blocked his escape route. The only way out now was the window, which was on the other side of the room, and blocked by the first monster.

"I think I know what they're looking for," snarled the one behind Wheeljack. It gestured to the other, and it moved aside slowly, revealing something more terrifying than the Energon on the walls or the monsters in the room with them.

There were two chairs tied back to back in the middle of the room with energy coils. Binds of coil were also placed around each chair, holding two frames up. One was slender and feminine with white armor and green detailing. The other was a bit bulkier, with red armor and small detailings of blue and orange. They were barely sitting upright, and would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the coils. Energon dripped steadily from wounds all over their frames, and their optics were flickering ominously.

Wheeljack couldn't even tell if they were still functional.

"Carrier!" Pyro shrieked and started run forward, but Wheeljack grabbed him and hugged him to his chassis, afraid to lose anyone else.

::On the count of three we are going to run to the window and escape, okay?:: he commed Pyro, who glanced up at him with dull optics.

::Okay.:: The response was weak, but there.

"Why?" Wheeljack asked. The creature looked at him and cocked its head.

::One.::

"Because the Quintessons are superior. We have always been and will always be better than you race."

That's right! It's a Quintesson!

"But we were created by Primus, and you were created by Quintus, who was created by Primus," he protested, earning a snort of indignation from the Quintesson.

::Two.::

"Quintus, Liege Maximo, and Megatronus to be exact," it said arrogantly.

::Three!::

"I would love to stay and chat, but I'm on a tight schedule," Wheeljack said. The Quintessons blinked in a confused manner, trying to process why he said that, but they quickly figured it out when the mechlings sprinted to the window.

He shoved Pyro out first, then turned around and shone his flashlight in the optic - eye? - of the Quintesson, buying him about a nanoklik of time to climb through the window.

They ran fast and hard; the only thing on their processors was to escape, to get as far away as they could. Wheeljack was still in shock about his creators; he hadn't really had time to mourn. What would they do now?

When they finally stopped for rest in a back alley, Wheeljack dug some credits out of his subspace. Together they only had about fifteen - enough for a few Energon cubes.

He was so busy counting the credits that he didn't notice five dark shapes drop down beside them, surrounding them.

"Uh, Jackie?" Pyro asked as he banged on Wheeljack's shoulder. "We've got company."

He looked up and muttered a curse when he saw the older bots all eyeing them greedily.

"Hey there, mechlings. Mind sharing some of those credits?" the mech growled with a sinister grin. Wheeljack's optics widened as slowly tucked the credits back into his subspace. "S-sorry, sir, but we don't have any to spare," he stuttered. His voice sounded shaky and childish to his audio receptors, and his finials blinked a faint yellow with uncertainty and nervousness.

"Is that so, Light Bulb?" snarled the mech. "Well, I'm sure you won't need them anymore when we're done with you."

Wheeljack slowly backed up, but his back hit the back of the alley too soon. He and Pyro were cornered.

::Wheeljack, look,:: commed Pyro. He then sent a 360 degree image of the space they were in, and zoomed in on a ladder a few kleps from where he was standing.

::I see it,:: Wheeljack sent back.

The mech was coming closer, his sharp digits stretched out and ready to clobber Wheeljack into submission. The mechling watched closely, logging his movements and tracking him, predicting where he would strike. When the larger bot finally made his move, Wheeljack was ready.

He ducked, then stuck his strut out and tripped the gang leader, causing him to fall hard on the ground.

"Now, Pyro!" he yelled. Together they escaped up the ladder. Hopefully the larger mechs wouldn't be able to follow. The ladder was pretty small and seemed flimsy.

On the roofs of the buildings in Altihex was where Wheeljack counted their credits again, and rethought their supplies.

"We're gonna need protection gear, weapons, Energon," he mumbled to himself. It was nearly night cycle, and he could already see the moons rising above the horizon.

"C'mon, Pyro, we're going to the plaza."

They ran on the roofs of the buildings, not wanting to get caught in an alley again. It may have slowed them down, but at least they were safer. Luckily, the plaza wasn't too far away from where they started. Unluckily, it was night cycle by the time they arrived, which meant the black market vendors were the majority of what was available.

"What are we going to get?" Pyro asked, tugging on Wheeljack's servo.

"See that mech over there?" he asked, pointing to one of the vendors. "He's got all sorts of stuff. I was thinking about getting some kind of weapon."

Pyro nodded. "I'll stay here."

"Good idea."

Wheeljack's finials blinked yellow as he cautiously approached the vendor he had pointed to earlier, who had various masks, extra armor plating, and weapons on his counter.

"Um, sir?" he asked quietly. The mech looked down at him in surprise. It wasn't often one saw younglings at the market.

"Hey there, mechling. What do ya want?" he half growled, half asked. The mechling handed him seven credits.

"Do you have any weapons for this much?"

The mech rooted around and grabbed a pair of old katanas.

"These is the cheapest things I've got."

Wheeljack nodded and took the blades. "Thanks."

"Here, I'll this in free," the vendor told him, tossing him a set of extra armor installations that would hold the blades. "They hook onto your back. For you they'd go between your winglets."

The mechling nodded again, then jogged away, albeit a little awkwardly.

They also managed to stock up on four Energon cubes, as well as the katanas. Not bad for just fifteen credits. Although, Wheeljack had to admit, the katanas were kind of big and bulky to carry around, but he was sure they would prove their worth.

They managed to find an old, run-down building that seemed to be unoccupied. Wheeljack dusted off some of the furniture and curled up on an old berth. This seemed okay. They would manage.

Wouldn't they?

781.06.02

It was only about a vorn after the incident with the Quintessons; only a vorn since Wheeljack and Pyro had been kicked out on the streets. They hadn't really had time to actually process the information; they had been too busy trying to survive! But now that they actually sat down and thought about it, Wheeljack could feel the pain coming to him.

He was surprised about one thing, though. Why hadn't they felt the pain when the bond broke? Wheeljack had asked Pyro about it, but the mechling said he hadn't felt anything either.

During the night cycles, and even when they were resting during the daytime, Wheeljack could hear sobs drifting from Pyro's berth. He didn't dare try and comfort him, for fear that he would start weeping as well.

Meanwhile, Wheeljack was on the DataNet, looking up reasons for the absence of pain. Don't get it wrong, he wasn't complaining; but Wheeljack was a curious mech, and always wanted to know why something happened.

Here's something, he thought to himself. He clicked on the link and it brought up a document that had all the ins and outs of Bonds. This is gonna take awhile.

Everything You Need to Know About SparkBonds

A SparkBond is something, sort of like a link, between bots that are related or romantically involved. The Bond reaches out amongst your family members and keeps you all connected. Your Bond will be strongest with your creators, creations, and siblings. Cousins, aunts and uncles, grand-creators, and everything else will have a bit of a weaker bond. The Bond with your creators and creations are the strongest, siblings being next.

Creator Bonds are the most noticeable because your Spark comes directly from them (and vice-versa for Creation Bonds). Your siblings are next because their Sparks come directly from those bots as well. Every other bot has sort of a secondary bond, as you only link to them because of another bot.

For example, you are only linked to a cousin because of your creators, who are linked to their siblings, and their siblings' creations. The same works for an aunt or uncle; you are only linked to them because of your creators.

What About a SparkMate?

SparkMates are a little complicated. It is possible to have more than one SparkMate, but only one at a time. When a bot bonds with another, their Sparks are linked - Bonded. Just like every other Bond, when the link is broken, which can only happen if a bot is terminated, the Spark on the living end of the Bond will crack, just a little bit. Fortunately, you only feel the pain of any crack if the bot dies in a painful way (murder, suicide, etc.).

After that Bond is broken, a bot may become linked to a new SparkMate, but there is a chance the Bond won't be as powerful as the first (but in some cases, it is even more powerful).

Sparklings?

A NewSpark is an unhatched sparkling. Periodically, they burst from the Well in swarms of lights, flying to couples of SparkMates that have Bonded and have requested sparklings.

The sire or carrier will take a NewSpark and place inside the containment unit that they constructed. After that, they will each Bond their Spark with the NewSpark, marking it as their own and inputting strands of CNA. The NewSpark will grow inside the CU until it hatches, becoming a hatchling. At the age of two orns, it is called a sparkling. The sparkling receives its caste, where it will train for the rest of its life cycle once it is old enough to go to an academy. Please note: sometimes, especially during war, a NewSpark will be placed into a mature protoform (usually about fifteen to twenty orns). This way they can be called upon immediately to go into battle (although this is a very rare occurrence and has only happened three times in Cybertronian history; those bots did not lead very long lives and their Sparks were weak, unable to retain powerful bonds).

The sparkling becomes known as a youngling once it is five orns old and mature enough to go to the local academy to learn the basic skills like math, science, history, etc. When it is ten, the youngling will begin training in their specific caste, and may even be sent to other cities if that caste is not taught in their home city. This is unless they are in the labor caste. If this is the case, they will be given a mentor, who will teach them the craft, but they will not begin work until fifteen.

At fifteen orns, younglings' T-cogs have matured enough to scan altmodes. Some bots have two or more altmodes available; they are known as triple-changers. Each bot, when hatched, has a standard protocol it must adhere to.

There are several races of Cybertronian:

Lupin (T-cogs are already loaded when they hatch; modern Predacons)

Felida (just like Lupin with pre-loaded T-cogs; modern Predacons)

Predacons (extinct, but just like Lupin with pre-loaded T-cogs; may come in three forms: griffin, dragon, and avian)

Insecticon (just like Lupin with pre-loaded loaded T-cogs; modern Predacons)

Arachnicons (they are considered Triple Changers because of their ability to switch their struts for thinner arachnid-like struts, but may also load an altmode onto their T-cog)

Racers (they have doorwings and are usually fast automobiles)

Cyclers (they have winglets and only two wheels)

Grounders (automobiles with wheelsets mounted on their backs or nothing on their backs)

Copters (helicopter bots with rotors mounted on their backs)

Seekers (jets with wings on their backs)

Tankers (bots with cannons mounted on their shoulders or elsewhere in their body and transform into tanks)

There may be sub-races of certain bots. Some Seekers may have their wings placed elsewhere on their body, besides the back. The same goes for Copters.

Twenty orns is officially classified as a fully matured bot.

Can You Block a Bond?

It is possible to block a Bond. It is not recommended, as it may slowly sap the strength of bots on both sides. However, this feature can also be used to block out pain when one side is lost. If a bot is terminated, they may block the Bond to keep someone else from feeling the pain of the crack. The bot on the other side may also block the Bond to keep themselves from feeling the pain.

Wheeljack stared at the screen with weary optics, but curiosity was burning in his Spark. Is that what Sire and Carrier did - block the Bond? He sighed and pushed his seat away from the table and datapad. He was too tired to worry any more about it.

They had been lucky to acquire all the supplies they had. Wheeljack had stolen the datapad from one of the vendors in the Plaza, and Pyro had bartered for Energon and home comforts after they had used up their original four cubes.

"Jackie, what's that?"

Wheeljack turned around to see Pyro standing in the hall, looking out an old window to something in the lot outside. Wheeljack jogged up and gently nudged Pyro aside to have a look for himself. There were three younglings outside; two mechs and a younger femme. They looked to be orphans as well, but Wheeljack didn't want to take any chances.

One of the mechs was covered mostly in red armor, but he had teal servos and a microscope-cannon thing on his shoulder. A Tanker? Wheeljack thought absentmindedly as he observed them. The other one was red and white with a white chevron on his helm. He had teal struts and servos as well. The last one, the femme, looked a lot like the red and white mechling, except she was covered in lilac-colored armor.

Suddenly the three younglings looked up at the window. Wheeljack ducked and stalled his vents in panic. After waiting for a few kliks, he peered out the window again, but the bots were gone. He sighed in relief, but something made him catch his breath again.

"Wheeljack, help!"

"Don't move!"

Wheeljack sprinted into the main room, but froze when he saw the same three younglings standing in front of Pyro, the red one pointing the cannon at his helm. "I said: Don't move," he snarled, glaring at Wheeljack, who held his servos up in surrender. "Don't shoot!" he pleaded, willing to do anything to protect his little brother.

The other mech gestured around the room. "How long have you been here?" he asked.

Wheeljack shrugged. "About six cycles."

The mechling nodded, then turned to the red mechling and raised his optic ridges. "I think you can lower the gun now, Percy," he said. Percy stared him down for a moment, then finally turned away from Pyro and cross his servos.

"You have to go."

"Woah, Percy, stop," the other mech said, getting between Wheeljack and the red mechling. "What if they were to stay?"

"Pharma, really–"

"Perceptor, listen to me! What if they stayed, but they earned their keep? They're obviously in a similar situation to us. Remember when we were first booted out here?"

Perceptor huffed and glanced at the ground, then looked back up at Wheeljack, his blue optics softer than before.

"What do you say, mech? Want to stay? You'd have to prove yourself, though."

Wheeljack looked around. Would it be worth it? If they left, they would have nowhere to go. But could they really trust these three younglings? Finally he sighed and rubbed the back of his helm.

"We'll stay."

Perceptor nodded. "Alright. My name is Perceptor. The mechling beside me is Pharma, and the femme is his little sister, Wolfsbane. Who are you?"

Wheeljack gestured to Pyro. "This is my little brother, Pyro. I'm Wheeljack."

Perceptor nodded. "Good." Then he grinned. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

781.08.07

About three quartexes had passed since Wheeljack and Pyro had met Perceptor and his group, and the work was grueling. They must have worn their digits down to the protoform with how much heavy lifting they did.

Finally, it was time for some real action. Today, they would visit the vendors of Altihex and – instead of buying – they were going to steal some equipment, and maybe some credits as well, seeing as they were low.

Everyone had a specific part to play in the theft. Wolfsbane and Pyro were to distract the vendors, seeing as they were the youngest and most appealing. It was classic and cliche, but it almost always worked. Pharma and Wheeljack, being the stealthiest, would actually take the goods. Perceptor would be standing watch, ready to alert his teammates if someone tried anything fishy.

"Hello, sir!" called out Wolfsbane as she approached the vendor, Pyro on her heels. "What do you have for sale?" she asked, turning her big blue optics on him innocently. Pyro tried the same tactic, but it didn't seem to be working for him, so he settled for a passive expression instead.

The vendor ducked beneath his counter, then came back up and smiled at Wolfsbane. Pyro thought he caught a bit of malice in the grin, but he could have been imagining it.

"I've got Energon cubes and rust sticks, as well as some assorted armor pieces and add-ons," the vendor announced slyly. Behind him, hidden in a pile of scrap, were Wheeljack and Pharma, who listened intently, anticipating the moment when they would get to savor the sweets. The armor pieces would be helpful too.

Slowly, Wheeljack and Pharma snuck forward. They were so close Wheeljack could practically taste the rust sticks dissolving on his glossa. Their sweet taste enveloping him and – right, the mission. He reached out a servo and grasped the container of rust sticks, then slowly withdrew. Subspacing the container, he reached out again and grabbed hold of a box of Energon cubes. He had just subspaced them when a piercing shriek glitched out his audio receptors.

Wheeljack and Pharma stumbled backwards, clutching their audials in pain, but Wheeljack managed to catch a glimpse of the vendor holding both Pyro and Wolfsbane by their clavicular armor and starting to walk away. He also noticed that Perceptor was leaping down from his vantage point atop one of the buildings, his cannon pointed at the vendor. Wheeljack knew they were only younglings, and low on Energon at that, so the blast would hardly be powerful enough to incapacitate him, but it would certainly cause him some pain.

The vendor growled and let go of Wolfsbane when the blast struck his wrist, but he firmly held Pyro in the other. He transformed and drove away before any of the younglings could do anything to solve the dilemma.

"No!" Wheeljack roared, but Pharma caught his servo before he could give chase. The mechling tugged Wheeljack along, his grip firm and unyielding.

Pharma and Wheeljack rushed over to Wolfsbane and helped her into an alley where Perceptor was waiting. Wheeljack stalked right up to him and poked him in the chassis with a digit. "You knew that was going to happen, didn't you? The vendor obviously knew what we were doing, and you didn't warn us! Pyro could be hurt! He could be scared! And you let that glitched out fragger take him away!" he snarled. Perceptor glowered at him and scowled. "For your information, I did try to stop him–"

"And you saved Wolfsbane. What about my little brother?"

"Wolfsbane has proven to be more beneficial to our group than Pyro has thus far. We have better chances of survival–"

"Frag you and your logic!"

"I was going to say: We have better chances of survival and retrieving Pyro if we have Wolfsbane. She obviously knows how to use her appearances and nature to the best of her ability, and she is incredibly stealthy. We have a greater chance of success if we use her to rescue Pyro than if I had saved Pyro, and we had to use him to rescue her."

Wheeljack blinked, processing all that the Tanker had just said. Finally he grunted in approval.

"Fine. Whatever. Can we just go now and get my little brother back?" he asked. Perceptor nodded.

"I know where they will be taking him."

Wheeljack, Perceptor, and Pharma were currently atop a roof of a building next to the Altihex Protoform Rehabilitation Center (AKA the Altihex PRC), the place for all creatorless younglings. If Pyro was taken there, the bots would probably never get him back. That's why they were waiting. They had worked together (which was a miracle for Perceptor and Wheeljack) to create a plan. Now they just had to wait and see if it worked.

"So...what now?"

"Shh!"

"Why do I have to be quiet? This is all your fault you kno–"

"Shut up!" growled Perceptor as he clapped his servo over Wheeljack's mouth. "Do you want to rescue your brother or not?"

Wheeljack slapped Perceptor's servo away and glared at him indignantly. "Of course I do!"

"Then be quiet!"

Pharma rolled his optics at the bickering pair. "Guys, look." He said as he pointed to the street, where a pair of Enforcers had just pulled up and transformed. Huddled between them was the small form of Pyro. Wheeljack started forward, but Perceptor yanked him back by the winglet, causing him to grunt in pain.

"We still have to be tactical about this," he hissed to the younger mechling, before turning and giving Wolfsbane, who was waiting in the shadows by the street, a nod of his helm.

Wolfsbane stepped out of the shadows and confronted the Enforcers. Wheeljack couldn't hear her, but he could guess what she was saying.

"Excuse me sirs, but that's my li'l brother you have there. He ran away from home again, and our creators are worried sick!" she said. The Enforcers glared at her skeptically. One of them leaned down and scrutinized her. "Alright, femmeling, where are your creators then?"

Wolfsbane stared him down, her bright blue optics rivaling his red ones. "Well, sir, my carrier has a virus, and my sire is watching over her at the medical facility. Pyro and I were sent out to purchase some Energon–"

"You mean steal?" snarled the second Enforcer. "Don't think we don't know what happened in the plaza. Sorry, little femme, but criminal offenses must be punished." He made a grab for her, but Wolfsbane dodged.

Perceptor signaled to Wheeljack and Pharma, and they all scampered down from the building and approached the Enforcers. Wheeljack, being the smallest and quickest besides Wolfsbane, darted forward and snatched Pyro away. Luckily, the Enforcers were too distracted by the others to notice the mechling had gone missing.

Wolfsbane squeaked as one made a grab for her, but she stumbled away and climbed onto the roof of a nearby building, out of the Enforcer's reach. Pharma and Perceptor disappeared into the shadows, eventually making their way on top of the building. The group of younglings quickly fled to their abandoned building.

That night cycle, Wheeljack held his little brother close as he slowly drifted into power down. Pharma and Wolfsbane leaned against each other on a small couch. Perceptor sat on the windowsill, watching the other members of his group. He was the oldest, and therefore had the most responsibility. It was hard, sometimes. That cycle he had felt an emotion he hadn't experienced since the termination of his creators: failure. Failure to save Pyro. Failure to keep everyone safe. Failure to successfully provide for his team.

Did they blame him? No. Even Wheeljack understood, eventually. But Perceptor didn't know that.

He finally fell into power down just as Cybertron's twin moons began to sink, and its lone star rose above the horizon, bathing the surface in a cold, blue glow.

Little did they know, that would be the last time the star would dawn on a free Cybertron for a long, long time.

This chapter has some educational value...If you're Cybertronian. And we finally meet Percy and Pharma, as well as my OC.