"Knockout!"

The red mech let out a girly shriek at the bellow of the Decepticon leader, frantically pressing the button that would hide his enormous mirror. True to his vain nature, the buff medic had been making poses and faces at himself, examining his gleaming red paint for any miniature scuffs or scratches.

"Coming, Lord Megatron!" Knockout cried, rushing into the Med-Bay, where he skidded to a halt just short of Skywarp's sensitive wing, which had been blocking the door to his quarters.

"Skywarp, move!" The Decepticon medic hissed, gently shoving the Seeker out of his way so he could get into the room. Already his scanners were tingling, warning him about an injured 'con. Thundercracker, perhaps, or Megatron himself.

As Knockout shoved his way into the room, he had to shutter his optics several times, just to make sure he wasn't seeing anything.

No, he wasn't seeing anything.

Megatron was fussing – almost – over his heir, while Soundwave was hovering worriedly – almost – and the Trine were shifting and restless and in the way of where he needed to be.

And Saberstorm was seated on the berth he'd ripped her fleshy body apart – when she was still the human femme known as Leon – dripping Energon from her body. It oozed from her wings, nicks and cuts in her once-immaculate finish, and almost gushed from a wound in an Energon line in her knee.

Her facial plates were set in a combination of annoyance and offended agitation, but no pain flickered through her optics or across the plates of her mouth.

Knockout scowled, puffed himself up and pointed at the door. "Out. All of you out!"

The Seekers vacated immediately, knowing that Saberstorm – as a Seeker – would want her privacy while she was repaired. Soundwave hesitated, but a quick look from the femme sent him calmly out of the Med-Bay.

Megatron however….

"I will not leave, and you cannot tell me what to do, Knockout."

Knockout lifted one of his optic ridges, and crossed his arms across his chassis. "I am a medic, Lord Megatron. And while I may be a Decepticon, and therefore under your command, my first priority – always – is the health, repair and maintenance of your ranks. I cannot fix your heir if you are fussing and hovering in my way. Leave."

The hulking mass of tan-and-bronze mech stomped out of the room, but not before he'd fixed a cold glare and shark-tooth scowl upon the medic. "I do not fuss!"

The door slid shut and Knockout huffed, locking it from the inside with an only-medic-known code.

"Whatever you say, my lord."

Saberstorm snorted, turning her sharp optics to him. "I turned off my pain receptors."

Knockout nodded. "Good, that's good. Don't turn them back on until I tell you to. I would say this would hurt-"

"But I can't feel anything." She flinched back from his silver hand, through it grasped her right wing gently and wiped away the Energon on the surface.

Knockout was rather impressed with the Decepticon-created femme; barely three Earth months old, and already acting as though she'd been a Cybertronian her entire existence. Sparklings didn't learn how to turn off their receptors until they were nearly at their adult stages.

Almost absent-mindedly, Knockout welded the punctures in her wings, pulled out the many pieces of shrapnel, and patched the wound in her knee. He was mid-way through patching the Energon line, when he paused.

"What made this?" He asked, continuing his work. Saberstorm had sat peacefully the entire time he had been working on her; a wonderful change from the impatient mechs he always treated. She was quickly become his favorite patient, simply because this was the fastest patch-up job he'd done on anyone since his apprentice solar cycles.

"Scalpel." She replied calmly. Knockout pulled away and stared at the femme.

"You attacked the Hatchet?" He nearly squeaked. Saberstorm rolled her optics.

"I'm not stupid, Knockout. The Autobot medic may be a formidable opponent, but I have nowhere near enough experience to make any attempt on attacking him alone. His apprentice, on the other servo, is another matter entirely."

"First Aid?" Knockout relaxed slightly, lowering his fingers and optics back to the half-finished patch. "Isn't he the peaceful one?"

"We played a game," Saberstorm explained, flinched at the tiny welder Knockout subspaced. "I got bored and careless. He pulled a scalpel on me just as I was about to blow his fragging helm off. Ratchet showed up not long after and I vacated the area, but not before leaving them a little….present."

Knockout quirked an optic ridge, heating the sutures he'd made on the cable to melt them partly and speed up the healing process.

Saberstorm remained completely still, stiff almost until he put away the torch.

"You're free to go." The red mech announced, stepping away. Saberstorm slid from the table with ease. "Don't do anything strenuous until those welds set and partly heal. Keep off your legs as much as you can; the Energon line will take the longest to heal. When you're done healing, come back and I'll paint you up again. Your cheetah is mangled."

"My cheetah?" Saberstorm's optic ridges dipped downwards. Knockout beckoned her into his quarters and pushed the button that slid the wall away from his mirror.

"No telling anyone about the mirror." He pointed a digit at the femme, and then pulled her in front of the mirror. His servo gestured to the black cheetah design on her right wing, though it was chipped and had several welds over it.

"I put it here while I was fixing your paint. You had something similar, but I thought this would be better. It suits you."

Saberstorm nodded, frowning slightly. Both Decepticons were quiet for several kilks, and then the medic spoke.

"I suggest you find the Trine. I haven't treated many Seekers, but I know that they heal faster near other Seekers. I don't know how it works, but its Doc Knocks' orders. Out."

Saberstorm limped quickly towards the door, and then turned her helm back. "Thank you, Knockout."

"Don't thank me. Turn on your pain receptors."

"She's taking a really long time." Skywarp complained, peering around the corner to the Med-Bay. Starscream huffed.

"Idiot. She was bleeding from her wings. The good doctor will take extra time fixing those."

"How do you know that?" The black and purple Seeker asked his Trine leader.

"Because if he doesn't do it properly," Thundercracker answered instead. "I'm going to frag him up."

As the blue Seeker finished speaking, the door to the Med-Bay hissed open. Carefully, Saberstorm limped from the room, bracing herself mostly on her uninjured leg and the wall. Skywarp practically leapt at her, until he realized how much she must be hurting and instead settled –reluctantly- for giving the femme an enormous grin.

"Saberstorm!"

"Hello, Skywarp." Saberstorm winced. Starscream frowned at her, while Thundercracker lifted an optic ridge. "I was supposed to come find you. Doctor's orders."

The Trine shared a quick conversation and then Skywarp scooped up the femme –who squeaked-, pivoted on his heel-strut and marched down the rocky hall, his brothers following after him.

The Seekers' quarters weren't far from the Med-bay, which were both near the surface, so it didn't take them long to get there. The large door hissed open as they approached; Starscream and Thundercracker first, followed by Skywarp with Saberstorm.

The room they entered had rock walls, like the rest of the base, but they were draped in various colorful fabrics, and an enormous painting of a city-line stretched across the flattest wall on the far side.

"That's a painting of Vos." Skywarp informed Saberstorm, who was staring at it intently. "We had it done before the war by a famous painter."

"Sunstreaker." Saberstorm said after several seconds of silence. "Sunstreaker did that."

The three Seekers blinked at her. "Yes."

It was odd, Saberstorm mused, how she knew that Sunstreaker had done it, but had never seen the painting before. Except that she had seen it before, somehow.

Turning her crimson optics away from the amazing painting of their home city on Cybertron, the Seeker femme took in the rest of the room.

It was rather simple actually; a slightly raised catwalk around the edges of the room and some sort of comfy metal-meshing stretched across the rest of the room. There was a door on another of the walls, which probably led to a wash-rack.

Skywarp bounded carefully down into the pit-like meshed area, and lowered Saberstorm to the floor.

Surprisingly, the metal-meshing bounced a little and it was soft to her sensory receptors. Starscream was poking around a metal cabinet that made a soft whooshing noise beside the main door and Thundercracker was locking the door.

Skywarp dropped down beside her on his back strut, though he did it carefully. Saberstorm frowned at him.

"Isn't that uncomfortable?" She asked.

Skywarp shook his helm, but it was Starscream who answered. "Our Trine was sparked by the same creator and carrier, and we were sparked at the same time. Skywarp somehow ended up on his back-strut while he was growing, so he ended up a bit different. His wing joints adapted and are more flexible than ours."

The black and purple mech nodded, grinning, and he reached for her servo, pulling her closer. He rolled carefully onto his chassis, wiggled his wings at her, and put her servo on them.

Curiously, and cautiously, Saberstorm grasped his wing and moved it to the side, pushing it flat. True enough, the joint where Skywarp's wings met his back-strut was easily bent and flexed. The femme prodded at the cables and wires that made up the joint, examining it.

Skywarp wiggled and Saberstorm snatched her servos back to her chassis.

"Did I hurt you!? I'm so sorry!"

"That tickled." Skywarp giggled. Starscream shook his head and stepped down the two youngest Seekers, followed by Thundercracker. Both were holding pale blue cubes of Energon, which were passed down to the pair on the floor.

Saberstorm took her cube from Starscream, and looked at it curiously.

"It's cold!" She exclaimed in surprise, looking at the Trine with wide optics.

"Energon is really good cold, but we didn't find that out until we got here." Skywarp explained, patting her shoulder before loudly slurping his Energon down. "The coolers – fridges – here on Earth are much better for keeping the Energon than the units we had on Cybertron, or the Nemesis."

"What's the Nemesis?"

"Megatron's war ship. It was really cool. And then we may have crashed it into the planet Pluto." Skywarp loudly announced, falling backwards onto his wings again. Starscream kicked his brother's Energon cube back towards the cooling unit with fantastic aim and then dropped from the catwalk onto the floor, which bounced a little. Thundercracker followed.

Saberstorm yelped in surprise when Skywarp yanked her down beside him, squirming to get away while Starscream flopped on Skywarp's other side, partly on his chassis. Thundercracker threw himself down on the lower portion of Saberstorm's back, immediately stilling the femme.

She lay there stiffly for several long kilks, before she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Seeker pile." Skywarp answered, patting his hand against her side the best he could, seeing as how she was on his arm.

"A what?"

"Seeker pile: technique used to comfort sparklings, strengthen bonds between trines, and help fellow Seekers heal slightly faster." Thundercracker answered, dragging his servo from where he'd thrown it and running it down her back strut. Saberstorm's engine purred, and she wiggled further into Skywarp.

"Oh." She replied, venting softly and laying her helm on Skywarp's shoulder armor. The Seekers remained quiet, occasionally venting. Saberstorm was almost in recharge when she was startled slightly by a prod from Soundwave over their bond.

/Where are you? /

/Seekers./ She replied.

/Understood./

Her optics shuttered closed while Saberstorm nuzzled her head into Skywarp and relaxed her taunt cables and wires. It wasn't long until she was deep in recharge.

Major William Lennox was seated at his desk, which was a rare sight by itself, but he was also doing paperwork. Men and women in fatigues wandered in and out of his office, bringing papers for him to sign or look over.

The pile to his right kept growing, and though Lennox had been chipping away at this pile since late the night before, he hadn't seemed to make a dent.

The exhausted man was slumped over his desk when Optimus rolled up to the gaping and charred hole in the wall of the office and transformed, venting heavily. Lennox glanced up and have a worn smile to the Autobot leader before turning his head back to the paper he was skimming over.

"Good afternoon, Major." The Prime greeted, crouching to speak with the human leader. "The Autobots and I have finished going over the damage to the base."

Lennox dropped his pen onto the desk with a soft clunk and swivelled his dusty office chair around to face Optimus. "How bad is it? Do you think we could reconstruct?"

Optimus shook his helm and vented loudly, fluttering several of the papers gently. "With a large amount of time and money, the base could be repaired. Unfortunately, the Decepticons are masters in the art of destruction, and they have managed to destroy any extra supplies the base owned, along with a large stock of our Energon reserve in the renovated Shard Bunker."

"Fucking Decepticons. What did they destroy?" Lennox grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair.

"The majority of the Recreation Room, the Shard Bunker, several berths, most of the Med-Bay, the cafeteria, my office, part of your office, several of the barracks, the wash racks, the monitor room, fourteen fighter jets, a cargo plane, and most of the supplies on the island, along with almost all of the communication towers set up around Diego Garcia." Optimus replied, shifting his massive body. "The base is repairable, but it may take some time."

"What really gets to me," Lennox stood, pacing around his desk. His feet stirred up dust and ashes as he kicked aside rubble. "Is that the Decepticons know where we are. The only way they would could have possibly figured out where the base was….Leon wouldn't have told them, right?"

Optimus was silent for a several seconds. "I have known the Decepticons for millions of years; their forms of torture to an Autobot are contemptible at best. I cannot image what their tortures were like for human. Even as strong as Leon was, a quick death may have been better than prolonged torture."

Lennox was silent, though he kept pacing.

Optimus continued. "Leaving Diego Garcia until we are able to repair the base may be our best option. Not only will the base we occupy not need repairing, but perhaps we should relocate back to America. Diego Garcia, while hidden and secure, is remote and all but unreachable."

"I'll try to get in contact with General Morshower about relocating bases." Lennox sighed slumping down into his chair. "After I finish the paper work and get some form of communications line up and running."

"Good luck, my friend." Optimus straightened, and then left Lennox behind. The Autobot Commander headed in the direction of the lagoon, where a gathered mass of Autobots waited for him, heads bowed and solemn.

The warriors parted as Optimus strode up, revealing the bodies of Skids and Mudflap. Both were on their backs, servos linked, optics shuttered, and their wounds covered.

"You were both brave warriors," Optimus closed his optics. "And extraordinary Autobots. May the Well of Allsparks offer refuge from this war."

Ironhide moved forward followed by Wheeljack, both of whom lifted a twin in their arms and strode into the surf, Skids' and Mudflaps' servos still linked between them. When the two Autobots reached edge of the lagoon's sandbar, they carefully lowered the Tiny Twins into the water and watched as they sank to the bottom, their image one of recharge.

Ironhide and Wheeljack wordlessly returned to the shore, where Bumblebee began playing some sort of sad lullaby, before weeping dramatically the only way he could. Optimus bowed his head, and almost in sync, the other Autobots followed his movement.

Saberstorm vented, wiggling her claws and then popping her shoulder joints. Her wings fluttered as her systems came online, and the femme stretched again before folding herself onto her knee-joints. Her crimson optics shuttered blearily, and then her mouth plates dipped into a confused scowl.

This was not the Seekers' berthroom.

The Seekers did not have enormous twisted metal spires jutting from the ground, or floating cream-colored mist that rolled over the ground. It did not have the universe as its sky or mechs with no wings…

The Decepticon femme's optics narrowed at the small mudslogger, and she attempted to subspace her blaster. However, it didn't work and all it got her was an amused chuckle from the silver mech.

"Where am I?! Who are you!?" She demanded fisting her servos and flaring her wings. The mech smirked, his blue optics gleaming through his visor.

"Ah'm Jazz." He replied. "And yer dreamin'."

"Cybertronians don't dream." Saberstorm sneered. "And Jazz is dead."

"Curren'ly, Ah'm in limbo," Jazz replied, pulling his gleaming silver frame from where he'd been seated. He waved one of his three-digit servos in the air in a roundabout motion. "Or Ah was, until Starscream got his hands on meh."

"Starscream? He can't bring back dead bots; he's not the Allspark." Saberstorm growled, her optics hovering over the mech's frame.

"Ah'm still dead," The Autobot grinned, making Saberstorm scowl deeper. "But Ah'm only half dead. Da part dats keeping me alive…is in ya. Starscream used part of ma pro-ss-r…to…ya."

"What?" The image of the small silver mech flickered and fizzled. Jazz simply gave her a sad smile before Saberstorm's optics flew open to Thundercracker's gentle stroking of her back-strut.

"You were twitching. Calm down." He murmured, purring his engine. Saberstorm nodded, closing her optics and falling back into recharge.

First Aid was frustrated. Incredibly frustrated. Stressed too, but mostly frustrated.

The apprentice medic was no tech expert, but he was smart enough to operate most computers. However, no matter how much he search through the data base of Decepticons, the logs from other Autobots, and reports from the vorns of war on Cybertron, nothing came up about the Seeker femme, Saberstorm.

It was driving him crazy.

Coupled with the misfortune of having to deal with all of the injured bots alone, and having to be Ratchet's bedside doctor, First Aid was being stretched in all directions and he was much more flexible than he thought….but had learned that Ratchet was astonishingly patient with everyone he treated.

Unfortunately, First Aid was not Ratchet and he couldn't bring himself to hit anyone unless they were directly threatening his life, like Saberstorm had.

Why could he not stop thinking about that Unicron-damned femme?!

Sure, she was kind of attractive. But she was also a Seeker, and grounders didn't mix well with those that flew. It was curiosity; that was the most likely reason he couldn't get her out of his processor.

"First Aid! Change the-" Ratchet began yelling.

"I've already done that." First Aid soothed, appearing almost instantly at Ratchet's side with a delicate welder and a tiny strip of metal in his servos.

The explosion from the grenade the Seeker femme had thrown had ripped a chunk of armor off the CMO's side, which was his only damage…..until he had gotten shot and one of his Energon cables had ripped open. First Aid had sealed the cable off on both ends and had attached a temporary cable for the Energon to flow through while he operated on Ratchet. It was delicate business, which took several joors.

Joors he should be spending repairing the other Autobots or searching for more information!

He was so frustrated.

Ellie was pissed off. Majorly pissed off. Also in pain, but mostly pissed off.

She'd been put on bed rest by First Aid until such a time that a human doctor was able to look at her, or Ratchet was repaired enough to use his holoform. Both of which were taking more time than actually needed.

Ellie was currently bleeding from several places, mostly her leg, which needed stiches. Stiches she would do herself, if it weren't for her ribs and the broken metal arm limply hanging by her side.

Huffing, Ellie swung her legs over the side of the bed, her mind set on either finding another doctor, or doing it herself, when Mirage's handsome holoform sparked into view and he gave her a pointed look.

One she'd been on the receiving end of several times throughout the day.

"There is a medico outside. She will repair you, but you must stay in your berth- bed. " He frowned, nodding at the door.

"About fucking time." Ellie snapped grumpily, lowering herself back onto her bed carefully as the door swung open.

A short but busty woman with almond-shaped creamed-coffee eyes entered the room, carrying a bag that obviously held medical supplies. A pale blue coat hung over her shoulders and wisps of her luxurious brown hair drifted from the bun she'd pulled it into. This woman was a senior doctor here, mostly in charge of being the surgeon's aid, but the woman, Ronda Terrell, knew what she was doing.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Epps," Ronda greeted her superior, placing her bag beside the bed and seating herself on the edge of it. "Can you tell me what hurts?"

"My ribs are broken or fracture, my prosthesis needs to be repaired, I need stiches in my leg, and a lot of other minor cuts that will heal by themselves. I have a concussion and bruising to the back of my skull. That's the extent of the damage I can recall or examine without any equipment and minimal movement."

Ronda nodded, snapping open her bag and reaching inside. Ellie glared at the roof.

"Good to see you on your pedes again, Ratchet!" Wheeljack grinned at the dusty green mech, receiving a scowl from medic in question. "All recovered?"

Ratchet remained silent, welding the few small scrapes on Wheeljack's frame. The medic winced as he shifted his weight and leant forward slightly. The CMO was nearly finished his repairs when Ironhide limped into the Med-Bay, holding a large servo to his sparking side, where the blast from the Con's had hit him. Ratchet growled, debating pulling a wrench…but he decided against it.

"Ratchet!" Ironhide's voice colored with surprise. "First Aid repaired you quick."

"On the berth, you bucket of bolts." Ratchet grumbled, pointing a thick digit at the berth across from Wheeljack, who was squirming and swinging his pedes. "And you, hold still while those welds set."

As Ratchet slowly moved over to Ironhide the Med-bay doors hissed open, and First Aid stepped in, carrying several cubes of medical Energon – judging by the slightly purple tint to the liquid. At first the white-and-red mech didn't notice his mentor, as he was too focused on not dropping the Energon cubes and putting them into the cabinet.

Ratchet bent over Ironhide's side, flinching and wincing his way down with a huff, casting wary looks at his apprentice.

First Aid finally turned around and his teal optics narrowed at the sight of Ratchet working. The MIT crossed his arms over his chassis and tsked. Ratchet glared.

"You're not supposed to be up yet, Ratchet." First Aid informed, obviously not for the first time.

"I'm a medic, dammit!" Ratchet protested. "My job is to fix injured bots, not lay around like a useless piece of scrap!"

"That's my job too," First Aid pointed out. "And you're one of my patients. So please go lay back on your berth again, I'm going to have to check your welds again because you keep moving and reopening them. You'd heal faster if you just stopped for a few cycles, Ratchet. I can handle the Med-bay by myself for a few days. You're nearly as bad as the rest of them."

Ratchet grumbled out several unintelligible words and stomp-shuffled back to his berth in the closed off area.

"Would you mind waiting several nano-cycles, Ironhide?" First Aid vented, turning his optics to the amused weapons specialist.

"Take all the time you need. I've turned off my pain receptors." Ironhide shrugged, but kept his hand pressed to his side.

"Thank you. Wheeljack, you can go back to your lab now." The MIT gave a small smile and headed into the back area of the Med-Bay. Ironhide listened, growing steadily more amused as time passed, as Ratchet argued with his apprentice. Finally, First Aid returned to the Med-Bay, shaking his helm

Immediately, he was beside Ironhide with a servo-full of clamps and a small pair of clippers. Ironhide scowled.

Lennox stared at the slightly charred wood of his currently empty desk, tracing patterns in the dust left over from the attack. The glowing computer screen mocked him with the small spinning circle that indicated he was connecting to the General, and the blue background blared against his eyes.

Finally the little circle stopped, and connection was confirmed. The screen changed to a polished looking General Morshower, who gazed at Lennox with curiosity.

"General Morshower,"

"Major Lennox, what can I do for you?"

"Sir, I am unaware if the news has reached you as of yet, but our base was attacked last night by a small group of Decepticons. They were Seekers – fighter jets – and they have destroyed our base beyond immediate repair. Prowl has calculated that it will take at least a year to repair the damage."

"We have no supplies, our Autobots lack Energon, and most importantly, the Decepticons know where we are."

"You are on the most remote island in the world. How the hell did they find you!?" Morshower demanded, frowning.

"Sir, Optimus believes it was my niece."

"Major Lennox, I'm going to have to ask you to detain your niece until such a time she can be questioned."

"That would be impossible, sir." Lennox replied, his face twitching slightly into a sad frown, but otherwise remaining as it was. "During the attack in Texas, my niece and Dr. Elina Epps were spotted by a pair of flying Decepticons. Doctor Epps was injured and now has an advanced prosthesis, but my niece was never recovered, and Dr. Epps – along with several surveillance cameras – confirmed that my niece was taken by Decepticons. We never recovered her body. According to Optimus, the 'con tortures are….abominable at best to a Cybertronian; my niece was completely human. Quick death is admittedly better than continued torture, sir."

"Major Lennox, why have you contacted me?"

"Sir, NEST needs to move its headquarters. Preferably to America. Our response times would be quicker, supplies would not have to be shipped out, and less fuel would be used to fly in and out of the island on a regular basis. Logically, sir, moving NEST HQ is a good move."

"I'll contact Sec-Def., Galloway and the Director of National Intelligence. See what I can do. Good day, Major."

"Sir." Lennox saluted the man and then fell back into his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. The man wondered briefly how Annabel and Sarah were, sinking his face into his hands.

So many people had died in the past two and half months, that Will wondered if he was doing something wrong. And not only were they short on men now – and less two Autobots – but the Decepticons had a new member to their ranks.

This did not spell out well for anyone.

Songbird's Spirit: I'm glad you like it, and I know it's confusing. I'm working on fixing things up at the moment. Leon was kidnapped by the 'cons and brought back to their base. They tortured her for information on the Autobots' whereabouts. Yes, she is most definitely still getting with the Lambo twins! During the process of moving Leon's "soul" over into a Cybertronian body, creating it into Saberstorm's spark, Shockwave/Starscream/Soundwave altered and blocked a lot of memories she had of the Autobots and of her human life. They implanted a fabricated life back on Cybertron.

SilverZelenia: The twins finding out that Saberstorm is actually Leon will very very chaotic. And since it was rather dark out while the Decepticons attack Diego Garcia, and Saberstorm's paint is a very dark blue-and-purple combo, the black tattoo would be difficult to see.

professionalemail101: I know, I'm cruel. I've killed off the Tiny Twins.

Madame SparkAttack: Hahaha :P Ellie's shot was actually just an adrenaline-induced lucky shot. She's going to have difficulty starting shooting like that again. Storm will eventually regain her memory but a lot more happens first. I'm glad you approve, Madame.

Madsluads: I had no idea what to call the chapter and then I was like "Fuck this shit" and called it 'Drop the Base'

TheGhost129: Yes. Saberstorm is Leon.

Mizushimamiharu: Ellie will most likely through a shit-fit. I honestly adore Seeker relationships. Seekers in general are a very close knit community and since there are so few left, and almost no femmes, the programming in the Seekers, despite actually knowing that Saberstorm was once human, flares into existence again, and they get touchy-feely big brothery.

MarshellAlexandraAnderson: She'll get them back. But now Decepticon-spark-ripping-out is going to happen.

Kurohane Ookami: Daw, cutie Seekers. I know.

KayleeChiara: Twists are 're welcome.

Steel autobot: Yuuuuuuup :P

A. Primus: :)

Starswoop: We have to remember that Saberstorm is being trained by Megatron, and she feels horribly betrayed by the Autobots.

ashleywhitener: Wrote more. Not soon.

Guest: How's your new phone? Have a cookie. I apologize for not updating waaaaaaaaay sooner.

DarkShadow: I'll keep going. But it will be a while before they figure it out.

Alright. Firstly, I feel like a horrible horrible person for not update waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay sooner. Like really horrible.

Secondly, my friend - the one who was hit while longboarding - ended up dying, but he had asked ahead of the accident if he could donate organs, which he did.

In other news, ,my choir won gold in the Canadian Music Festival (WOOO!), my younger sister turned seven last Tuesday, the teacher strike is reeeeeeeally annoying (ugh), I started playing Star Wars: The Old Republic and made a new friend.

I'm proud of myself.