A/N: Wow guys, my longest chapter EVER! It starts out a little slow, but get's more interesting as you read on. For me, it's my new favorite chapter thus far. Oh, and just to try and clarify things for you, I want it to be clear that this story is not another human-turned-Allspark fic. It may seem that way, but I promise you, it will not end that way. *Gives evil snicker* Please excuse any typos; if you find some let me know and I'll fix. Anyways, tell me watcha guys think!

Chapter 16: The Boneyard

Starcream's strategy seemed deceptively easy for once. The objective: find and destroy the location known as the Boneyard. Thanks in part to Barricade's interrogations of two now-deceased S7 agents, the Decepticons had at least one lead to follow in the aftermath of the human's disappearance. With any amount of luck, Starscream's soldiers would be able to reach the base and take back what was rightfully theirs.

Needless to say, Thundercracker and Skywarp needed no encouragement to catch up with the others and fly south towards Tuscan, Arizona. Starscream flew at the head of the trine with Thundercracker and Skywarp taking up their old positions slightly behind and to the left and right respectively. Soundwave flew at a higher altitude, actively scanning the surrounding airspace for interceptors while simultaneously providing a jamming signal for the others. Barricade, Runabout and Runamuck were not far behind. The three muscle cars were roaring down the highway with the police interceptor leading the way, sirens wailing and lights blazing. Human drivers swerved haphazardly to get out of the way of the oncoming "authority" figures.

It had been months since the Decepticons had engaged in any type of large-scale confrontation—internal disputes aside. It was time for the world to tremble once more at the might of the Decepticons.

By nightfall most of Starscream's Decepticons had assembled on one of the desert ridges that surrounded the Boneyard. Hundreds of acres of planes lined the desert floor in neat, crisp rows. Some were early fighters and bombers from a bygone era, others were large transport prop jobs that sat idly, waiting for the maintenance crews to come and strip them of all useful machinations, but all were silent sentinels over a desolate land. How was it even possible for S7 to have a base in this useless spit of desert? But as Starscream pondered this question he knew that the humans could be shrewd enemies. After all, they had successfully hidden Megatron and the AllSpark deep within one of their hydroelectric structures.

The sound of approaching engines made the Decepticon leader turn and survey the desert behind him. Three sets of headlights were quickly closing on their position. All at once the headlights dimmed, but the vehicles themselves continued onward. Several astroseconds later saw Barricade and his mini- entourage transform and rejoin the others. Good. We are all assembled, Starscream mused to himself.

"Barricade, what is the status of the human's base of operations?" the beige jet asked his scout, even as the black and white cruiser was stepping forward.

"According to my scans, the majority of the base is located underground. It appears they are in the process of abandoning this facility. Already several large transport units have left from the facility's south side byway of an underground passage."

"Any sign of the human?"

"None, Lord Starscream," Barricade replied. "However…"he trailed off and leveled an expectant gaze on one of the Vipers.

Runamuck looked at Barricade and Starscream in turn before speaking. "I hacked into the human's files and discovered an interesting bit of information," he said quietly. "Although we did not find the human girl we did discover that one of her paternal units is in charge of this base—one Michael Richards."

Starscream's optics brightened with the news. "Interesting," he growled softly. "And you're positive she is not here?"

"We could not find her biological signature, my Lord," Runabout confirmed. "But that does not mean she isn't here. The humans could be shielding her energy."

Starscream nodded his head as if in agreement. A clawed hand absently stroked the underside of his chin as he mulled over their options. His optics glanced over to Thundercracker, conveying a silent question. The blue Seeker nodded his head once then turned his attention back to the seemingly empty airplane graveyard.

To enter the base might prove suicidal; their large size would limit their freedom of movement and ability to evade hostile fire. On the other hand, if they waited out here in the desert, the humans would escape little by little. They didn't even have the option of attacking a departing convoy. One missing truck would alert the others that something was amiss, an occurrence Starscream did not want to happen. This operation would call for stealth.

"All right. This is what we're going to do," he began, pointing a clawed finger at Barricade. "I want you and Soundwave to infiltrate the base using your human holograms. Runabout and Runamuck will accompany you as well. Your jobs will be to search this installation from top to bottom. Find the human." He turned his attention to Soundwave. "Infiltrate their mainframe. I want to know everything possible about these insects, particularly why this pathetic substructure still exists and what they plan on doing with the girl. The rest of us will wait outside. Once you have completed your tasks, notify me immediately. Dismissed."

Starscream and his wingmates watched as the others left to begin their mission. Now came the hard part—waiting. Starscream cast another searching look at the metallic indigo jet. Since their little "chat," Thundercracker had said little. He still found it rather intriguing that such a connection between mech and human could be even possible. It didn't take a rocket scientist to put Soundwave's data and his own observations together and come to a logical conclusion—somehow the Allspark's energy had opened a channel of mental communication between them. But what Starscream wanted to know was why Thundercracker of all mechs? And better yet, why a Decepticon?


Light and darkness mingled and shifted into shadows of varying degree. Voices sounded muted, slow and garbled, like an old tape player that has been abused throughout the years. Suddenly the mixture of shadows and light began to swirl and grow gradually brighter. The familiar white mist began to form. She could feel the soft, cool droplets of vapor caress her skin as she walked through this strange cloud. As she walked, the strange fog began to part and Dezba saw the peculiar, metallic landscape take shape once again. This time, she recognized the land as Cybertron, Thundercracker's homeland and as it was before, the landscape was pitted and smoking. Great gaping holes and shattered buildings surrounded her. Many structures were like metal skeletons of steel, silently keeping vigil over a grim and deserted land. She stared at the decimated sight before her eyes; she had never seen such widespread destruction before. Dezba could tell that this city, at one time, was a great and beautiful gem. A few towering spires still stood against the skyline, a mournful monument to past splendor; bits and pieces of metal would occasionally fall from the sides as if the buildings themselves were crying to the heavens.

As she turned to her right, two large silhouettes appeared deep within the fog. Curiosity overcoming her better judgment, Dezba decided to creep closer to watch the two mysterious figures. Large pieces of debris and shattered sheets of metal offered plenty of cover for her tiny form. As she crept closer, Dezba caught the glimmer of dark, metallic armor in holes of the mist. The other robot did not appear to be as dark in color. She crawled closer. Another opening in the fog provided a clearer view of the two Cybertronians.

What she saw next made Dezba gasp in surprise. One of the mechs was Thundercracker! It had to be! She would recognize his form anywhere. His shape was slightly different; it seemed more jagged and had sharper edges. The clean lines of the F-15 were no longer present, but he still resembled an aircraft of some kind. His massive wings rose high above his shoulders and the brilliant, blue-black armor shimmered in the mist. She instinctively knew that this strange mech was him. But who was he talking with?

She focused her attention on the machine standing next to him. Small details began to pop out at her. This machine was not nearly as bulky or as tall as Thundercracker; the sharp jagged lines of alien armor were still present, but they were not as obvious or as many. The unknown figure also had wings, but they were narrower and more streamlined. The armor appeared to be a dazzling combination of metallic burgundy, burnt orange and silver. The young human slowly began to realize that this unfamiliar being was a female of Thundercracker's race. They appeared to be deep in conversation, speaking heatedly to one another. Dezba could not quite make out what they were saying; all she heard was deep garbled tones and shrill clicks.

The female was gesturing wildly at the surrounding area. Her deep, purple optics clearly showed anger. Thundercracker was no less agitated; his crimson optics burned brightly through the fog. Finally, after what seemed like several tense minutes, Thundercracker placed his broad, fearsome hands on the female's shoulders and nodded his head resignedly. His optics had lost their fiery fervor and a reluctant air hung thick around him. But the female robot seemed to be quite the opposite. She leaped into his arms and embraced him firmly around the neck. Her small, thrustered heels dangled a few feet off the ground as she hugged him. He appeared even more uncomfortable but tolerated the gesture nonetheless. She released him and together the two Cybertronians leaped into the air, transformed and blasted from sight. The fog quickly thickened, obscuring her view once again. Suddenly Dezba sensed a presence behind her and felt a light touch on her shoulder. Startled, she whirled around to face her potential attacker. A tall, sinewy man with long, flowing black hair stood before her. Slowly, the girl rose from her crouched position, not once taking her eyes from the stranger. She stared into startling blue-white eyes that seemed totally out of place in his dark, coppery skin. It felt as if every hair on her body was raised and tingling and yet this figure had a strange sense of familiarity.

"Who…who are you?" she whispered.

The strange being did not reply for so long that Dezba felt he was either deaf or just ignoring her. His eyes roamed the desolate landscape before finally settling on her hazel ones.

"You are in great danger, young one."

"What?" Dezba shook her head to try and clarify her rampaging thoughts. "What are you talking about? Who the hell are you?"

The stranger stepped forward and placed his hands lightly on the sides of her arms. She cringed just a little, but tolerated his touch. As she gazed into those alien eyes she saw a profound sadness that she never thought was possible in a human being.

"I am the guardian of your thoughts and one who has suffered a fate very similar to your own. Because of me, you have inherited a great gift, my child, one that many will desire to possess. And as I was the beginning so you shall be the end."

"Wait. 'The end'? The end of what? And what gift!?"

My child, you are the key to this race's future. Without you, they will surely fade into darkness."

Dezba's eyes widened in surprise at this news. A whole alien race's existence rested on her shoulders? Talk about a burden to bear!

The strange man removed his hands and began to back away slowly. "These men who hold you will kill you to meet their ends and they will use the most vicious means necessary."

The abrupt change in topic yanked Dezba from her revelation. She paled upon hearing that string of news. "But what am I suppose to do? What do they want? How do I fight them!? Wait...come back!" she pleaded as the figure faded back into the mist.

"A warrior's degree of strength is based upon their degree of focus. Trust in the great Thunderbird, She-Who-Goes-to-War." And like dust upon a breeze he vanished before her eyes.

With a slight jump, Dezba jolted awake. Her face was white and sweating. Another dream. Another image. But it seemed more like a nightmare. She glanced fearfully around her and realized she was still in the SUV—still Miller's hostage.

"Hey! You're not supposed to wake up yet!" a harsh, unfamiliar voice spoke next to her. She struggled to scoot away from this strange man sitting beside her, but at some point while she was unconscious they had tied her hands and feet. The guard grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back to the center of the seat.

"No…please," she mumbled through thickened lips.

"You don't have a choice, baby," the guard replied oily as he injected another dose of sedative into her body.

She struggled against the effects of the tranquilizer. The sage's words still echoed in her mind—a warrior's degree of strength is based upon their degree of focus. So, she focused on the one being she knew would come to her aid. As the blackness began to engulf her once more, a near inaudible whisper escaped her lips, "Thundercracker……help…….me."


Optimus surveyed his soldiers with a solemn optic. He did not relish giving his soldiers this news, but it needed to be done. They had hoped to settle on this tiny planet in peace, had hoped the eons of bloodshed were over, but it appeared old, festering wounds were slow to heal.

"Autobots, I have some grave news," Optimus began, looking at each bot in turn. Ironhide's optics were as cold as ice, Ratchet stood to one side with an interested air, and Bumblebee waited patiently for him to continue, "Our friend and ally Reginald Simmons was murdered earlier this solar cycle. I do not know who committed this atrocity."

Before Optimus could continue, Ironhide interrupted, "Isn't it obvious Otptimus? It had to have been the Decepticons. It would be just like Starscream to target our allies and try to alienate us on this planet." The old warrior's cannons hummed with agitation and his optics glowed like blue flames.

"I must say I'm inclined to disagree with you old friend. Bumblebee had been following Simmons when the crime took place, unfortunately he was unable to help him in time, but the evidence Bumblebee was able to collect before the human law enforcement arrived indicates that the Decepticons were not involved."

"Are you sure, Prime?" Ratchet asked, stepping forward. "We all know how duplicitous Starscream can be." The other Autobots nodded their heads in agreement.

"I am positive, Ratchet. The Decepticons may use underhanded methods to achieve their means, but if they already had the girl in their possession what would be the gain in killing Reginold Simmons? I have known Starscream for many millennia as you have, and you know as well as I do he would not risk exposure or allow his soldiers to risk exposure just to settle a small vendetta. Everything he does, he does with purpose and meaning. Besides, something else absolves the Decepticons from this happening."

"What would that be, Optimus?" Ratchet questioned, even as Ironhide harrumphed loudly.

"The caliber of projectile that killed Simmons does not match any known Decepticon ammunition." That statement caught the attention of the others. "And if you will recall, Simmons seemed very agitated to be here and even said that his agency had become a very volatile organization. It is my suspicion that whoever did not want Agent Simmons to come here and speak with us, caught up with him before we could."

"So what does this mean, Prime? That innocent girl is still in the hands of the Decepticons. How does all this tie into together?" Ratchet asked the burning question that all of them wanted answered.

"I'm not sure of the intricacies, my friend, but I do know that we now have two very dangerous sets of enemies vying for a power that we cannot begin to understand."

At that moment one of the alarms in the main computer began to sound. All the Autobots turned and strode to the viewscreen, curious to see what had triggered the alarm. Bumblebee pressed a button on the console. Almost immediately, a live band of streaming audio filled the Command Center. Bumblebee turned to Optimus. "I've programmed Teletran One to track certain frequencies, such as police and emergency bandwindths." He turned to the computer and dialed in one of the frequencies that caught his attention.

A human voice filtered through the static. "…Cruiser 643, you have no jurisdiction in this area…State your purpose, stand down and reduce your speed…I repeat…"

"Barricade!" Ironhide growled, "Can you get a fix on the direction he's heading?"

"I can try," Bumblebee said, "I can't get a fix on Barricade himself but….I might be able to triangulate his position using the humans' radio broadcasting frequencies." The scout was silent for a few nanoseconds as he tried to get a reading on the rogue police cruiser. "Let's see…I've got it! He's heading south on US Interstate 10." He looked back up to Optimus, confusion evident in his blue optics. "I'm not sure Optimus, but it appears he's heading for Tucson, Arizona."

"I don't get it Optimus? What could be in Tucson that would be of any interest to the Decepticons?" Ratchet asked.

"I don't know Ratchet but we need to find out."

"Then we better leave now," Bumblebee interrupted, "I've just received some civilian sightings of two more vehicles with Barricade, Vipers."

"Sounds like Starscream has received some backup in our downtime," Ironhide growled. "More targets for me to destroy."

"Will we be able to intercept him, Bumblebee?" Optimus queried.

"If we leave now and bend a few speed limits, yes," Bumblebee answered.

Optimus gave his soldiers a firm nod. "All right Autobots. Let's transform and roll out!"


"Let's GO! Move it, move it, move it people!" an agitated Michael Richards shouted at the scurrying agents below him. He angrily paced the catwalk like a caged lion, wringing his hands nervously. We should have been out of this facility hours ago! He thought to himself.

Michael Richards had been generously rewarded for revealing his wife's mysterious musings to his superior. He had never truly loved her anyway. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, at least to him. He knew the widow had a substantial amount of money given to her by her deceased husband. Back in the day, he and Darren Collins were close friends and had shared many a secret with each other. He had played his part well—the caring friend of the husband whose only wish was to see his friend's family well taken care of--and Anaba Collins had fell for it. However, she did not fall for him as deeply as he had hoped, for the wily widow never revealed the location of the secret endowment. That was the beginning of the seed of bitterness. As the years progressed, the couple grew more and more distant with each other. Anaba spent the majority of her time teaching her daughter the way of their heritage and he devoted his life to Sector Seven. It was life on autopilot, until she came to him with those strange dreams. He knew instantly that they were alien, that they were related to the Iceman and his species. At first, the dreams came sporadically—every three months or so and then they came more often. Quite often to the point Anaba would wake screaming at least once a week. And so, Richards decided to put an end to his wife's nightmares and to also acquire a little retribution for missing out on the family's wealth. Things went well until the pesky brat escaped and got herself captured by the aliens. But now that she had been retaken and was back in appropriate hands he could breathe easy once again.

Miller had radioed him that the girl had been recaptured and it was time to initiate the EVAC Protocol. By theory it should have taken less than twelve hours to break everything down and evacuate the area, but Murphy's Law had other ideas. Now, fourteen hours into the evacuation process only about ¾ of the base had been successfully stripped.

He sighed in frustration. Could nothing go according to plan? He strode down to the end of the catwalk and walked down the staircase. As he stepped off the last step, he accidentally bumped into a worker.

"Watch it!" Richards growled, barely sparing a glance at the employee, but as they passed, the S7 agent could have sworn he saw the man's eyes flash red with anger. Richards paused momentarily, staring at the departing worker's backside. I must be working too hard, he rationalized to himself. He continued down the corridor checking on various worker groups as he went. Oh, how he loved being in charge!

As he passed by the control room, he saw a lone man working quite systematically on one of the mainframes. Odd, I don't remember having anyone scheduled to work in here at this time, he thought to himself.

"Hey, you! What do you think you're doing!?" Richards challenged angrily. He walked into the room, arms crossed expectantly over his chest. He wasn't a large man by any means, but being in a power position didn't improve his humility.

The worker looked up with red sunglasses covering his eyes? That's odd. Perhaps it was to cut down on eyestrain. He had dark brown hair and a very stoic air about himself. He stood to his full height, at least a good foot over Richards. The S7 agent took a hesitant step backwards as the worker stared at him unemotionally.

"I am currently ensuring all data has been successfully transferred and terminated from this mainframe," the employee replied. "It is in the EVAC Protocol, sir."

Richards gave the man a thorough stare before making his reply. Eh, at this point it wasn't worth the effort. He was already behind schedule as it was; an inquiry would only slow things further. "Very well. Carry on," he said, turning and leaving the room. Had Richards been a little more astute he might have noticed the tiniest edge of a boot sole peeking from a cubby hole where the consoles met the corner of the wall. As soon as Richard's footsteps faded into the corridor the worker flickered briefly then vanished.


Richards checked his watch for the umpteenth time that night. 2334. Time to blow this hell hole. The majority of the base had been stripped, all information transferred and/or destroyed; his job was done. With tired steps, he approached the black SUV that had been waiting patiently to carry him away to his next destination. As he opened the door, Richards felt a slight tremor shake the ground; at the same time klaxons blared to life and red alarm lights turned the base into a living nightmare. WARNING! WARNING! CODE RED! ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR STATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed loudly. Grasping the hand-held radio at his side, he punched the button and all but yelled into the device. "Edwards! What the hell is going on!?"

"We're…shkkk….under attack, sir! Decept…bzzzt…ons! We have no…shkkt…weapons! What do we do!? Awe, shit! No!...NO! NOOOOO!…shkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkt." The transmission ended abruptly in static.

Richards stared at the radio, his face paling. They knew. Those stupid metal bastards knew! Now he definitely had to get out of here! Without hesitation the S7 agent leaped into the vehicle commanding the driver to stop for nothing or no one.

More explosions ripped through the base causing a shower of concrete dust. The driver of the black SUV dodged the falling debris with deftness. At this point, alien attacks were old news to him. He had survived Hoover Dam and he didn't doubt he'd survive this. With a casual air that seemed to mock their current situation he asked, "Where to sir?"

"Anywhere but this damn base, you moron!" came the somewhat panicky reply. The driver merely shrugged his shoulders and gunned the accelerator as they reached the end of the tunnel and the beginning of the desert landscape.

Barricade and the twins did not find the human. Either she was here at one point and had already left or the humans bypassed this base altogether. By the time the infiltrators had scoured the base, most of the humans were preparing to leave. Nothing was said, written, typed, or broadcasted about having a human hostage. But the raid was not a total loss; Soundwave successfully hacked and downloaded a host of information from the base's mainframe. Unfortunately for Starscream it created more questions than answered. But now was not the time to dwell on such things. Now was the time to send a warning to those who dared to cross his path. Even though the humans were in the process of abandoning the facility, a message could still be sent—the Decepticons were hot on their afterburners. Starscream's optics glittered like molten pools as he incinerated another vehicle attempting to escape, another human that failed to save his pathetic life. No one could run forever.

For Skywarp and Thundercracker, the base attack came as much needed stress relief. For Skywarp, it was a chance to lash out at those who dared to try and terminate him. In his present state of mind, the black Eagle was feeling far from forgiving. As for Thundercracker, it gave him a chance to clear his processor and concentrate on wreaking havoc.

What was transpiring now was a sick and deadly game of cat and mouse. Panicked Sector Seven agents scurried like frightened mice around and under various airframes. Most of their potent weapons had already been transferred leaving the men with only their personal sidearms and their wits to keep them alive. And not many men were able to keep their wits about them. Horrendous screams of pain echoed in the night as one human after another met a brutal and painful death. Bodies lay strewn across the ground and blood splattered the various aircraft in a sick display of power.

As Thundercracker released another volley of 20mm rounds into a group of escaping workers, a blur of movement tracked across his short range radar. Zeroing in on the image, the blue Seeker saw one lone vehicle making an escape across the desert. He zeroed in even further, catching visuals and biological signatures of the two humans inside. The one piloting the vehicle he did not recognize, but the other…Thundercracker cross-referenced his data with that given to him earlier that night. The second human in the vehicle was without a doubt Michael Richards—Dezba's second paternal unit and the human commander of this facility.

Suddenly, memories flashed across his CPU, images of a human family sitting down enjoying a meal. He instantly recognized Dezba and the older femme, Anaba. But the male figure was more dubious. It appeared to be a happy affair on the surface, but as the Seeker watched with interest it quickly transformed into a scene of terror. Armed humans rushed into the room, pointing their guns at the family. Thundercracker saw Dezba brutally thrown to the ground, a rifle planted into the base of her head. The mother was in a similar position, crying frantically. He realized this was Dezba's memory of that fateful night that started everything. He watched with growing anger as the girl and her mother were handcuffed and shoved into waiting vehicles. Through Dezba's eyes, he recognized the two men he had slaughtered that night; they climbed into her vehicle with malicious intent clear on their faces. With that single, clear snapshot in time Thundercracker knew that Michael Richards was somehow to blame for this entire mess. Things didn't seem logical and yet everything seemed to click into place. Thundercracker wanted answers and this pathetic piece of carbon was going to meet those demands.

A deep, infuriating rage began to build within the indigo Seeker. He was angry. Angry for ever getting involved in this situation, angry for having his past dug up and thrown into his face, and especially angry at having a group of humans take the one being he allowed himself to show the slightest tendril of mercy. Igniting his afterburners, he streaked across the sky like a blue bullet, a reverberating clap of thunder resonating in his wake. His sudden departure from the slaughter field did not go unnoticed; Skywarp saw his wingmate streak away from the graveyard. Narrowing his optics suspiciously, the black and violet jet decided to follow suit.

Richards could hear the scream of jet engines as well as those screams of former comrades. They melded together in a psychotic symphony of horror and agony. He closed his eyes to try and ignore the ghastly sounds of the dying and to keep from retching. As his fingers dug into the upholstery, Richards heard then felt a faint rattling. It began to increase steadily in volume as well as vibration. A cold sweat began to break onto his forehead. Richards chewed his lips with nervousness. He glanced out the windows trying to see the source of the noise. Then as if a switch had been flipped, all the noise and vibrations ceased.

As Richards turned to look out the rear window, a deafening explosion shattered all the windows of the vehicle. Glass shards bombarded the men in the SUV, cutting any and all exposed skin. The SUV swerved dangerously to the right, the momentum of the vehicle pushing it up on two wheels. The vehicle teetered precariously before toppling over on its side and into a barrel roll. The SUV came to rest on its top in a shower of dirt and pebbles. The whole accident happened in less than five seconds.

"My God! What the hell just happened!?" Richards yelled emphatically, trying his best to disentangle himself from the seatbelt as he hung upside down. Blood dripped in steady rivulets from the various lacerations on his face and throat. The only answer he received from the driver was a low moan. He was conscious, but barely.

"SON OF A BITCH! WHY WON'T THIS THING UNFASTEN!?" Richards cursed loudly as he fumbled with the belt. At that moment, the ground trembled as if a great weight had fallen from the sky. The human froze. More sweat and blood began to mix and drip to the roof of the vehicle. More tremors. Rhythmic. Regular. Powerful. Just. Like. Giant. Footsteps. Oh, God.

Thundercracker could smell the fear, blood and sweat emanating from the wreckage. It was a noxious fragrance that stimulated the very primal essence deep within his spark core. It aroused terrible feelings of violence that both excited him and repulsed him. But at the moment his immediate desire for revenge overrode any underlying conscience; his Decepticon programming literally cried for bloodlust fulfillment. He barely even noticed Skywarp land a few yards away. Stepping close to the vehicle, the winged Decepticon reached down and grasped the overturned SUV in one massive hand. His claws punctured the pathetically thin sheet metal like needles through tissue paper.

Inside Richards screamed like a man possessed. Several large talons? pierced through the sheet metal of the SUV. He felt a wave of vertigo wash over his body as his aggressor picked the vehicle off the desert floor and raised it to an unfathomable height. Blood rushed to his head as he struggled to grasp onto this nightmarish reality.

With a horrible shriek, the SUV was flipped right side up. Then, quite abruptly the crumpled remains of the roof were peeled back like the lid from a sardine can. For the first time in his life, Michael Richards, sincerely believed he was staring at the face of Death himself. Red orbs that glowed like cherry coals glared down upon him and the driver, bathing them in an unholy light.

With its freehand, the metallic monster reached in and plucked the driver from his seat. Richards heard a series of undulated tones and garbled clicks. A shadow of movement drew Richards' attention away from the being that held him and to a point just over its wing. Another one. This one black with shades of purple and every bit as terrifying. The dark blue monstrosity tossed the driver to its accomplice as easily as a child tosses a ragdoll. It then focused its attention back on the sole occupant of the tattered SUV.

"Here Warp. Have some fun," Thundercracker growled in Cybertronian, "This one is mine!" He hooked one talon under the shirt of the petrified human and lifted him up from the wreckage. Thundercracker then casually rolled his hand to drop the SUV. It landed with a resounding crash at the Seeker's feet. To terrify his hostage further, the blue Decepticon raised one metal foot and ground the vehicle into the dust, creating terrible shrieks as metal ground against metal.

"Please! Let me go! I haven't done anything! Please don't kill me!" Richards begged as he dangled by his shirt front a good 30 feet from the ground.

A deep, metallic chuckle reverberated in the air around him. "Pathetic weakling," a deep, baritone voice spoke in English from the darkness, "Don't deceive me. I know you know where the human child has been taken. Tell me and I'll make your death quick and painless…unlike your friend over there." As if on cue, a gut-wrenching cry echoed through the darkness followed by a very evil metallic laugh.

If Richards was pale before, he was translucent now. "Dezba?" he squeaked. "S-She's not here. I don't know where s-she is," he stuttered. The claw gave a sudden jerk which in turn stressed the fabric holding the human aloft. The sound of ripping cloth was loud on the chill desert air. Richards mindlessly grasped onto the claw that held him, desperately trying to keep from falling to his death.

"OK! OK! I'll tell you! Please, in the name all that's holy, please don't drop me!" he wailed. A wicked grin parted Thundercracker's features.

"That's more like it," he sneered. "Speak quickly, fleshling, for my patience is growing thin."

"OK, OK. She's been taken to COBRA! That's all I know! I swear!"

"Whose COBRA!? And what do they want with her? SPEAK FLEASHBAG!" Thundercracker wrapped his digits around the squirming human and held him in an ever pressure-increasing grip.

"You're…choking…me…"

"That's kind of the point," The jet rumbled.

"All I know is…she has some sort of mind power. It's rumored to be connected with the Cube that was discovered here on Earth. They want to try and harness that power. T-that's all I know. P-please! Can you put me down n-now?" Richards pleaded, eyeing the ground with dread.

Instead of feeling the monster's grip loosen as he hoped, it tightened to near rib-cracking intensity. Richards howled in pain. "I told you all I k-know! Please SPARE ME!"

"I'm not finished with you yet. Why did you betray your family unit, Michael Richards? What benefit did you glean from their suffering?"

The question caught the agent totally off-guard. "How d-did you know…" He instantly clamped his mouth shut when he saw the red orbs glow more intensely. "Wait! I didn't say that!"

"Oh, yes, you did," Thundercracker chuckled evilly. He brought Richards closer to his face, so close in fact, that the horrified human could see his reflection in those brilliant hellfire optics. "Between the two of us, Richards," the mighty Decepticon rasped, "you just confirmed every suspicion I ever had of you. They've said that us Decepticons are the lowest pieces of slag the universe has ever seen…now, I'm not too sure." He paused to allow his words to sink into the human's mind. He could feel this grown man quaking in his hand at every word; it was quite pathetic really.

"Now then, there is one last thing I want to share with you, Richards, before I take pleasure in ripping you limb from puny limb." The human's mouth gaped and his struggles increased.

"I want you to know that I was the one that found Dezba that night in the desert and I will be the one who will take retribution on the pathetic piece of slag that left her to die."

Thundercracker took great pleasure in the look of sheer terror and shock that mingled across the features of his captive. But nothing compared to the absolute delight he took in listening to Richards' screams of agony.

When the bloody ritual had finished, Thundercracker discarded the body to be consumed by the carrion-eaters of the planet. He strode over to where the others had finished destroying the last remnants of the Boneyard and its survivors.

"Well done, Thundercracker," Starscream greeted, mock admiration dripping in his voice, "I didn't think you still had it in you."

"Depends on the circumstances," came the rumbling reply. He examined the bloody sheen that was left on his claws. It left him feeling satisfied yet empty at the same time. Suddenly, Soundwave's monotone cut into their conversation.

"Warning: Autobots approaching."

All the Decepticons went rigid instantly, the hum of weapons powering up sounded similar to a swarm of angry African bees. "What is their proximity and how many are there?" Starscream demanded.

"Estimated Arrival Time: 10 breems. Number of Autobots enroute: four," Soundwave responded.

"We will wait," Starscream murmured. "Even with Prime, the odds are still heavily in our favor." Anticipation hung in the air as thick as a Louisiana fog. This would be their first meeting with the Autobots since Mission City and the sores of their losses still stung like over-energized electric cables. Servos squealed in protest as hands clenched and unclenched. Metal armor gleamed under the dim moonlight. Blood shined as it reflected light from the fires that still burned across the landscape. They were ready. The Boneyard…Hah! That was little more than a warm-up exercise for the battle-lusting Cons.

Finally, four sets of headlights pierced the darkness of the desert night. The Deceptions all stood in a line as if to try and bar the Autobots from proceeding any further. Their weapons glowed with an angry light as their ancient enemies drew closer. Starscream saw Runabout and Runamuck raise their weapons as if to fire. He gestured sharply for them to cease and desist. "No! Let them come," he growled warningly, his unspoken threat clear in the night air. The twins grumbled to themselves, but obeyed the order.

Optimus and his soldiers stopped at least 100 feet from the Decepticons. They all transformed simultaneously, weapons charged and ready. The hostility between the two factions was nearly palpable. The Autobots had not expected to confront this many Decepticons and they were more than a little tense in the circuits. Optimus surveyed the wreckage with saddened optics, but when he spoke his voice shielded any and all of the sadness that he felt. "Starscream, why are you here and why have you and your Decepticons caused such destruction?" he asked as he stepped forward.

Starscream's optics narrowed dangerously as he replied, "Stay out of this Prime. This fight does not concern you or any of your Autobot scum."

From the corner of his optic, Optimus saw Ironhide raise one powerful cannon. "Stand down, Ironhide!"

"But Optimus…!"

"I will not repeat that order again, friend." Optimus turned back to Starscream. "If you are referring to Sector Seven, Starscream, then I am inclined to disagree with you."

Starscream crossed his arms over his cockpit and hissed, "Why is that Prime? I thought you were allies with the humans."

"Unfortunately, not all humans can be regarded as allies, Starscream and Sector Seven has appeared to have fallen under that category. We've received some intel that Sector Seven is acting covertly without the US government's authorization and may become a threat to all Cybertronians."

Starscream grinned wickedly. "See Prime? This is exactly why all of humankind should be viewed as a threat. You never know exactly who to trust, do you?"

"Like you would know anything about trust, you flying scrapheap!" Ironhide sneered.

Starscream hissed angrily. "I would tread carefully if I were you, Autobot! We still have you outnumbered and all it would take is just one small signal from me for them," he motioned to the other Decepticons, "to tear you to pieces." The other Cons shifted eagerly as if to emphasize their leader's words.

Optimus intervened before the dispute could escalate. "We did not come here to fight you, Starscream. But we do want answers. We know you have a human girl hostage and we also know that Sector Seven knows of her existence and powers to a degree. Now, why are you here and where is the girl?"

"I've told you once Optimus! That is none of your concern! Although I will tell you this," he paused and swept his arm over the broad expanse of burning husks and strewn bodies, "the destruction you see before you now will be but a dying ember compared to devastation I will unleash unless these pathetic protoforms do not heed my warning. As for the human, she belongs…"

"To me," Thundercracker interrupted his voice low and deadly. Starscream gave him a scathing glare, but quickly focused again on Prime.

"Humans are not property to be claimed, Decepticon," Ratchet spoke for the first time since the meeting.

"Just try and stop me, Autobrat!" the dark blue jet challenged fiercely.

Starscream raised his arm to block his wingmate from advancing on the Hummer. At the same time, Optimus intervened once again.

"So the girl is no longer with you," he stated quietly.

Starscream glowered at the Autobot commander. His optics narrowed into fiery slits. "No she isn't!" he hissed. "And you will be well advised to stay out of this, Optimus!"

Suddenly, Thundercracker went rigid; his optics widened and his body straightened as if he had been electrified. The warrior's sudden change caught everyone's attention and only served to escalate the tension.

Dezba!?

"Thundercracker…help…me."

He whirled to face Starscream, blue-black wings slicing into the air, optics burning like hell's flames. "I know where she is," he hissed.

Starscream never took his gaze from Optimus's as he gave his command. "Decepticons! Fall back!" Almost instantly the Decepticons took a few steps back then transformed into their alt modes and withdrew from the Boneyard, leaving four stunned Autobots in their wake.

"What just happened Prime? Did we not just confront the Decepticons, totally outnumbered, and never fired a shot at one other?" Ratchet asked bemusedly.

"Yes, Ratchet, I believe that would be an accurate observation," Prime answered as he watched taillights and afterburners get smaller. "Bumblebee. Were you able to hear what Thundercracker was saying?"

"Yes, Optimus, as a matter of fact I did. He said that he knew where 'she' was. Was he referring to the girl?"

"Yes, I believe he was. Although I don't know how; it only adds to this conundrum. I want you to try and follow them, Bumblebee, but keep a respectable distance. I don't want to spook Starscream any more than necessary and with Soundwave here, you will need to be extra cautious."