This chapter introduces a very important OC, Backbeat.

Song: "Evacuate" - Baasik

Backbeat, Wheeljack, Skywarp, and Pharma are twelve. Remix is fifteen. Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, and Thundercracker are thirteen. Flatline, Pyro, Wolfsbane, and Starscream are six. Whiplash and Kup are seventeen. Slipstream is nine.

782.06.03/000.01.01 (of Age of Tenacity)

Many would think that Kaon was the worst place to live, and they were certainly right. However, Kaon had its pros as well as its cons.

When a Cybertronian youngling came of age, AKA fifteen orns, their T-cogs were considered mature enough to handle a full-on frame transformation, like an altmode. Before the age of fifteen orns, younglings were only allowed to have minimal loads on their T-cogs. Things such as flashlights and other necessities were the only things allowed.

A family living in Kaon was preparing for that special day when a youngling "grows up," as the creators always put it. Shortcircuit and Afterglow were beaming with joy, bustling around their humble abode, preparing for the trip into the city to look for altmodes.

Meanwhile, Remix, the femme coming of age, was laying flat on her berth. Her winglets were flattened out behind her, and her two wheels were spinning in agitation. Remix's sire, Shortcircuit, was a Racer. Her carrier, Afterglow, was a Seeker. Remix was a Cycler. She had two wheels in place of her pedes, obviously, and winglets.

Suddenly there was movement on Remix's silver chassis as a small heap moved and stretched, letting out a yawn.

"G'morning, sis," muttered the chrome Seekerlet as she crawled off of her sister. Remix patted Backbeat's helm, chuckling affectionately. Backbeat, her little sister, was twelve orns old. She had chrome, black, and orange armor. Remix shared the chrome/silver armor, but the similarities stopped there. The chrome had come from their sire, but Backbeat had gotten the black from her carrier.

Remix, on the other servo, had gold detailing like their sire. Her carrier was silver, black, and gold, so they assumed that Backbeat had gotten the orange from her uncle, Haywire. He was Afterglow's brother, and had a family in Vos. He was a former gladiator, but his SparkMate, Firewall, had convinced him to leave that life behind after it threatened to endanger their sons.

Remix had only met her cousins once. She had been twelve orns at the time, only three orns younger than one of her cousins, Whiplash. Her other cousin, Ratchet, had been ten orns. Backbeat had been nine. If she recalled correctly, they had visited their Vosian cousins because Firewall and Haywire had hatched a third youngling, a mech. They had named him Flatline, and to tell the truth, he was a cute little thing. He had orange and white armor like his sire, but also had a lot of black and bright red from his carrier.

Remix shook her helm. She shouldn't dwell on the past. Besides, she was meeting Flashback today! Flashback was Remix's…erm, friend. They had grown up in Kaon together, and among Remix's other friends, he was her best. They were going with her sire to choose their altmodes.

"Bye, sis!" called Backbeat as she swiftly vacated the room, speed enhancers activating with a click. A smooth mask slid over her faceplate, and the takeoff wheels on her pedes disconnected from their locked positions, lifting her pedes off the ground and letting the wheels take over. Finally, the thrusters in the heels of her pedes activated, propelling her forward with a burst of flame.

Remix rolled her optics in exasperation. She was sure Backbeat was just showing off her speed enhancers to make the Cycler jealous.

Two-wheelers came in many different shapes and sizes. Although most were slim, some had certain assets that others did not. Remix was one of the few who could connect her struts together, forming one long strut to roll around on. The other wheel moved up the back of her trods, allowing her complete control. It helped her improve her balance, really, preparing her for the day she obtained her altmode.

A sharp cry of "Remix, get down here, now! We have to leave if we're going to meet Flashback!" snapped her out of her reverie. Remix sighed and pulled herself to her pedes, stretching and casually walking towards her sire's voice.

"Why didn't we just pick the one that was three vendors back?" Remix groaned, rubbing her helm in frustration. Flashback rolled his helm around, easing a crick in his neck cabling, then nodded. Shortcircuit rolled around and pointed a digit at them. "Because I want what is best for you!" he said crossly. "I don't want you getting some scrappy altmode that does you no justice!"

Remix merely rolled her optics and groaned dramatically, then cast a sideways glance at Flashback. The mech in question leaned in to her audio receptor and whispered, "Control freak!" Remix snorted, then followed her sire into the market to look at more potential altmodes.

"How's this?" Shortcircuit asked, pointing to a slick-looking cycle. Remix walked closer and looked at it admiringly. It had a powerful engine, but was curvy and attractive all the same. Remix grinned and nodded, then handed the vendor the correct amount of credits. He pressed a button, removing the scan lock on the vehicle so Remix could equip it.

Meanwhie, Flashback had found his own sweet ride. A new model, it was equipped with a roaring engine, smooth rims, and futuristic doors, something that would surely add sauce to his bipedal mode. He quickly scanned it, gritting his denta against the light pain that followed as his armor reformatted itself to match the dimensions of the automobile.

Remix, Shortcircuit, and Flashback met back up at the entrance to the market. Flashback and Remix admired each other's new modifications, before Remix smirked challengingly.

"Hey Flash, you wanna race?" she asked. Flashback glanced at her and grinned.

"You're on!"

They transformed and raced off with a roar, leaving a faint scent of burning rubber. Shortcircuit sighed and shook his helm, but quickly followed suit.

It was just as she imagined it to be; the road beneath her wheels, the wind rushing past her winglets, Remix was in paradise. She was yanked from that haven, though, as something landed in her path with a rumble, causing her to swerve to avoid impact. Transforming, Remix faced the offender with a growl, but her expression faded when she caught sight of the thing.

It was covered in a large, robotic exosuit. The creature inside had slimy-looking green skin and the darkest eyes Remix had ever seen. The thing hissed, then pulled out a laser rifle and pointed it directly at her.

Remix wasn't stupid, and she knew that in this proximity, the blast would terminate her instantly. Frantically, she searched her memory banks, trying to determine what the creature was. Suddenly she wished she hadn't left Flashback to eat her dust, he would sure be a big help right about now!

Then it clicked. She knew what the creature was: a Quintesson. Created by Quintus Prime, the Quintessons enslaved the bots already living on Cybertron, and started building their own. The art of SparkMerging and Sparking hatchlings was lost to the sands of time, and bots started becoming precisely what organics called them: robots. Then one cycle, a few bots rose up. Led by A3, who was secretly Alpha Prime in disguise, they staged a revolution. Eventually, the bots prevailed. SparkMerging and Sparking became common again, and the Quintessons were thought to be extinct.

"Thought" being the key word here. Remix dodged as the Quintesson struck at her again, but she knew she couldn't keep it up forever. How long did it take a single Racer to come to her aid? Flashback was either too slow, or…Scrap! Flashback had probably been caught by a Quintesson as well, leaving Remix to fend for herself.

The Quintesson lunged again, and Remix dodged once more. Then she twirled around on one pede, having disconnected her struts, and crashed her palm against the Quintesson's jaw, slamming his teeth together and causing him to howl in pain when he bit his tongue. He angrily grabbed her servo and lifted it high, pulling the rest of her along with it, then he slammed her into the ground.

Remix lay stunned on the ground for a nanoklik, before she pushed herself up and took a fighting stance. I guess I should be lucky Sire taught me self-defense, she thought as she pushed her enemy to the ground with a powerful punch.

Suddenly she felt a sickening wrench on her Spark, and she collapsed to the ground. Her cooling fans activated with a hiss, and she doubled over, clutching her chassis. One of the bonds tied to her Spark flickered out.

Shortcircuit was dead.

Remix shuddered with horror as she fully realized what had happened. Her sire had been terminated by a Quintesson! She suddenly straightened when she felt cold steel touch her neck cables, and her gaze snapped up to the Quintesson, whose dark eyes flickered with triumph. She stared strickenly at it, optics hollow with grief. She had just enough time to send apologies to her carrier and sister through the bond before the sword was brought down, ending her.

Backbeat screamed as for the second time within a klik, her Spark felt as if it would explode out of her torso. Afterglow held her tight, whispering comforting words in her audial until the pain dulled, but the lubricant filling her optics didn't escape Backbeat's notice.

"Stay here, 'Beat," the femme said softly as she stood and went to another room. She put her digit to her comm and contacted Haywire, waiting impatiently for him to come on the line. When he finally did, she was greeted by a barrage of questions.

"Sis? Are you alright? Have you seen the news? Kaon is being demolished!"

"I know, Haywire. I…" She trailed off.

"Afterglow?"

"Remix and Shortcircuit are dead," she said, her voice glitching. "I was wondering if…I mean, if you have enough space…Kaon isn't exactly a safe place anymore…"

"We'll have rooms ready for you and Backbeat," Haywire answered, seemingly reading her processor. "Just get over here. You'll be safe with us."

Afterglow nodded, biting her lip plating. She ended the comm, then went back to Backbeat, who was tapping her digits together absentmindedly.

"Backbeat, we're taking a little…vacation to Vos," Afterglow said, sitting down beside her daughter. "We need to leave as soon as possible. Is there anything you'd like to bring with you? We…may not be returning soon."

Backbeat shook her helm weakly. "No, Carrier."

"Alright, then. Let's go."

"I'm so, so sorry, Afterglow," Firewall said, rubbing the other femme's back comfortingly. "Of course you can stay with us. I'm sure Backbeat will get along with Ratchet, Flatline, and Whiplash."

While the older bots were talking, Ratchet and Backbeat sat in their quarters, silent, and staring at each other.

"So…" Ratchet finally started, but he didn't exactly know what to say to a bot who just lost her sister and sire. "Um…Did you have any friends back in Kaon?"

"Yeah."

"Well…Who?"

Backbeat shrugged, looking at the floor dejectedly. Ratchet frowned. He didn't like it when others weren't happy.

"I have friends here, you know. My best friend is named Jetfire, but I also have other friends like Bitstream, Red Wing, and Sunstorm!"

"I had a few friends. Some mechs named Soundwave and Megatronus. But I didn't see them often," Backbeat muttered. "They were orphans. I was also friends with a femme named Airachnid, but I saw her even less than the other two."

"Airachnid? That's a funny name," Ratchet said, scrunching up his faceplate. Backbeat shrugged again.

"Lots of bots have funny names. Like yours. Why are you named after a wrench?"

Ratchet scowled. "I wasn't trying to be mean."

Backbeat grinned. "I know. I'm playing!" She punched him in the servo, yellow optics brighter and more cheerful than Ratchet had seen her in the past breem.

"Oh. Well…I was, too!" the mechling defended, crossing his servos and putting on a haughty look.

"You know, Ratchet, I think we'll get along just fine," Backbeat said, holding out her servo. Ratchet took it, and the femmeling suddenly pulled him forward into a crushing embrace.

"We may be cousins, but I think you're going to be more like a brother."

000.01.04

The Iaconian safe house was huge. Of course, it had to be in order to hold the entire population of Iacon. Unfortunately, that's not what it was holding.

The Quintessons had invaded Kaon, killing everything in sight. They wanted revenge for their defeat so long ago. Most of the bots they had built when they ruled were ancestors of the present-cycle bots living on Cybertron now, and they considered these bots to be their "property." They claimed the right to do anything they wanted: terminate, build, enslave; but the bots didn't fall for it this time.

As a result of the chaos, all sparklings and younglings were locked in the Iaconian safety vaults. Elite Guard soldiers guarded them at all times, making sure that no enemies entered.

The High Council was serious when they ordered all younglings to be brought to Iacon for safety reasons. They had rounded up every stray hooligan under the age of fifteen orns and all but dragged some of them to Iacon.

That was where Ratchet was now. He, Backbeat, and Flatline all sat together in their little corner, watching as the other younglings milled around. Flatline leaned into his older brother, seeking comfort, and Ratchet obliged. He was now thirteen orns old, and the eldest out of the trio. As soon as he turned fifteen, he would be shipped off to a training camp and forced into the war. Backbeat was twelve, and Flatline was six.

They had been taken to the vaults after their creators (and Ratchet's brother) had been called to war. Ratchet stilled remembered the cycle they had left.

It was a few cycles after the arrival of Backbeat and Afterglow. The adult bots were all whispering togetehr and exchanging worried glances as they watched the news. Whiplash had been charged with supervising all three younglings, much to his annoyance. Nevertheless, he watched them diligently and entertained them to the best of his ability.

Then one day there had been a knock on the door. Ratchet ran up to it, eager to answer. He opened the door to see a tall, dark blue mech standing there, a blaster attached to his hip plating and a serious look on his scarred faceplate, as well as a datapad in his servos. Behind him stood two other mechs: a blue and red one who couldn't have been much older than Ratchet, and his older brother or something, a green mech.

"Hi!" called Ratchet, but grew confused when the tall mech only cast him an annoyed glance. His yellow optics were dull, and flickered with something that Ratchet's innocent processor couldn't place.

"Youngling!" the mech finally barked. "Where are your creators?"

Ratchet shrugged. "I dunno."

"Right here, sir!" called Haywire as he rushed outside, Afterglow and Firewall on his tail.

"Are you the one called Haywire?" asked the mech. Haywire nodded.

"I am Commander Crossfire. You, Afterglow, Firewall, and Whiplash have been selected to fight for your planet against the Quintessons."

Haywire bowed his helm in acknowledgement, but Afterglow protested. "But sir, I don't know how to fight! Besides, I have a femmeling who needs my care!"

"All younglings are being guided to Iacon for safety precautions."

Firewall remained frozen, and Haywire elbowed her anxiously.

"Whiplash," she muttered, glancing at Crossfire. "He's…so young, though."

"Yet he is three orns above the drafting age limit," Crossfire said, his voice void of emotion. Firewall nodded, then went back inside to give Whiplash the news.

About five kliks later, the whole family was gathered near the door. Crossfire nodded to the adults and Whiplash. "We are on our way to Iacon now. Please gather all your valuables," he said before turning and walking into the street.

Ratchet, Flatline, and Backbeat grabbed a few small things and entered the transport vehicle waiting for them. Whiplash sat next to them silently, gently rubbing Ratchet's back in comfort. Backbeat laid her helm on Afterglow's shoulder, and Flatline fell asleep in Firewall's lap.

When they arrived, Whiplash grabbed Ratchet's shoulder and led him away from the group. He knelt down beside him and looked into his optics. "Ratch', listen to me. I…may not come back, and if I don't, I need you to take care of Flatline and Backbeat for me, alright?"

Ratchet frowned and nodded at his big brother, lubricant starting to form at the corners of his optics. "But…you'll come back, won't you?" he asked. Whiplash grinned at him.

"Hey, I'll do my best, 'kay?" Ratchet nodded again, then darted forward and embraced his brother. Whiplash rested his helm on top of Ratchet's and wrapped his servos around the smaller mech's back, wary of his small wings. "I promise I'll pay you a visit, alright?" he said. Ratchet nodded and grinned.

"I'll hold you to it."

Whiplash sighed. "Of course you will."

Afterglow gave Backbeat a hug before standing up and walking over to her brother, and Firewall whispered reassuring words to Flatline. When Ratchet and Whiplash came back to the group, Haywire grabbed Ratchet and hugged him close.

"Keep 'em safe, 'kay, Sport?" Ratchet nodded, then walked over to Firewall and exchanged a nuzzle with her. He finally went to stand by Flatline and Backbeat, where they watched their creators and Whiplash, as well as the other mech Ratchet had seen, get back in the transport and leave. Flatline waved as the transport drove away, carrying most of his family with it. Backbeat watched it sadly, while Ratchet bowed his helm and whispered a small prayer.

The other youngling, Magnus, turned to them with a solemn expression on his faceplate. "Well, I guess it's just us," he muttered. Backbeat immediately saw an opportunity to cheer someone up, so she ran forward and gave the older mechling a hug.

"It'll be alright," she reassured. "I'm sure your bro will be fine," she said while grinning up at him. Magnus looked back down at her, a hesitant smile forming on his faceplate.

"I promise I'll keep them safe for you, 'Lash," Ratchet whispered as he watched the transport until it was too small to be seen.

That left them where they were now. Magnus had wandered off to talk to other younglings. Finally, Flatline stood up and went off to explore. Backbeat remained, though, and shifted closer to her cousin, lubricant slipping out of her optics in small drops.

Ratchet put his servo around her shoulder pad and hugged her close as she buried her helm in his torso, frame racked with sobs. Already, she had lost her carrier. They had known it was inevitable. Afterglow had not been a gladiator, she had been an educator and an artist, but had nonetheless been forced into the war.

Suddenly Ratchet felt a touch on his shoulder pad. He flinched and turned around to see two mechlings looking at him sympathetically. One of them was bright red with teal servos and a gray crest on his helm. The other one was red and white with blue struts and a white chevron and red crest.

"What do you want?" Ratchet asked shakily. The white mechling frowned and removed his servo.

"You look like you need something to cheer you up," he said. "I'm Pharma. This is Perceptor, but we all call him Percy," he teased, glancing at Perceptor, who rolled his optics.

Ratchet looked at them in confusion. Why would they want to help him? "I'm Ratchet," he muttered anyway. Pharma smiled at him, then took his servo and helped him to his pedes.

"Why don't we show you around? We've been here a while, so we know this place inside-out."

Ratchet was about to protest; he needed to stay with Backbeat and keep an optic on Flatline, but he turned around to see that they had both forgotten about him.

Flatline was in the middle of the room, talking to an orange and scarlet mech excitedly. Backbeat was a little ways away, talking to – what he assumed to be – the other mechling's older brother, a red, green, and white youngling. Ratchet sighed in defeat. "Alright."

As they walked down the hallways, Perceptor and Pharma told Ratchet about their lives before the war. Perceptor had been an orphan living on the streets of Altihex with a four other younglings, including Pharma. Perceptor was thirteen orns old, and Pharma was twelve.

"Pharma's younger sister and some other orphans we met once we arrived are currently in here," Perceptor said. "There are a lot of younglings here - and not just from Altihex. It started out as just our little group: me, Pharma, and Wolfsbane, Pharma's little sister. We eventually met Wheeljack and his little brother, Pyro. When we were brought here, we met a group of four from Tarn. Thundercracker's the oldest, but Skywarp is only an orn younger. Starscream is the youngest, and Slipstream is a little older than him."

Ratchet looked around uncertainly, but Pharma put a servo on his shoulder pad and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. We're all friends here."

One of the younglings approached the trio and grinned at them, waving to Pharma. He had light blue armor and chevron. "Hey!" he said excitedly. "I'm Thundercracker, but you can call me TC." Thundercracker offered his servo out to Ratchet, who took it hesitantly. "How old are you?" Thundercracker asked. "I'm thirteen."

Ratchet smiled a little and murmured: "I am, too." This earned a cheerful grin from Thundercracker.

"Cool! We're the same age! That means will be good friends, huh? What caste did you get? I got scientific! You know what I'm gonna be? A medic!"

Ratchet grinned awkwardly. "I got science, too. I don't know what I'm going to be," he muttered.

"You should be a medic," Thundercracker said quickly. "Then we could study together! Besides, your armor's already the right color! Red and white are standard medical colors, right? I bet you'd make a great medic! You know, I‒"

"Hey, TC, are you coming or not?" called a second youngling with purple and gold armor. "We can't wait forever! We need your help with this!"

Ratchet frowned in confusion. Suddenly Thundercracker leaned toward him and whispered, "We're gonna sneak out this night cycle. We wanna see Iacon; you know, being hatched in Tarn and all. Starscream convinced us, but we all want to see what a high-class place looks like compared to…well, Tarn. I'm just glad we weren't hatched in Kaon. I heard that was the first place to be invaded."

Ratchet glanced at him and opened his mouth, but was immediately cut off by Thundercracker. "Of course you can come! We're all going, but in pairs. First it'll be Skywarp and I, then Starscream and Slipstream. After that, Jackie and Pyro; then Pharma and Wolfsbane. You can go with Percy," he said.

Ratchet smiled and nodded. "I'll go with Percy," he confirmed slowly.

Thundercracker grinned. "Alright!" he cheered. "We'll come and get you when we're ready to go."

Ratchet nodded, but secretly wondered what he'd gotten himself into. Did Thundercracker really know what he was doing?

Ratchet had to admit, the power down arrangements weren't as bad as he thought they would be. He had thought that all the younglings would be crammed together, but he was wrong. Sure, it was a little cramped, but spacious enough for him to be comfortable.

There were stacked berths against the walls, large enough for at least two younglings. Backbeat, Ratchet, and Flatline were put in one stacked berth. Backbeat insisted on the top berth, so Ratchet and Flatline took the bottom. Flatline powered down against the wall, with Ratchet on the edge, near the floor. He stayed online though, and didn't even close his optics. He didn't want Thundercracker to leave him out because he couldn't wake him up!

"Psst."

Ratchet lifted his helm and peered into the darkness, squinting his optics. Finally giving up, he reached out his servo slowly. He flinched back with a startled gasp when his digit poked Thundercracker's torso.

Thundercracker clapped a servo over his mouth and put a digit to his own. "Shut it!" he whispered. "We're leaving. C'mon!"

The younglings silently left the room. Unbeknownst to them, a dark shadow slipped out behind them, trailing them through the vaults until they reached the exit.