Lizard: Here it is, chapter...two? Yeah, or three if you count the prologue. Um...There's never anything to say at the beginning! *shameless whining*

Frog: I helped!

Lizard: Oh, fine. There you go. Frog helped. *smirk* Any mistakes are hers. There you go. Author's note DONE.

Frog: I helped a lot!

Lizard: Be quiet, no one cares.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, what would I be doing here? I only lay claim to my OCs.

missing: runnawayline...T-T DARN YOU FANFICTION(DOT)NET, DARN YOU ALL TO SUBURBIA!!! (please ignore random inside joke...)

Looking back and forth between this newcomer and his identical counterpart, Ironhide couldn't help but gape. Ratchet was stiffened in alarm, optics flickering slightly as though he was trying to readjust them, disbelieving his own sight. Chromia just stared with a blank look on her faceplates, probably waiting for her processor to catch up. For a moment, Prowl seemed to hold up pretty well, but the optic twitching was probably not a good sign. Bluestreak was…silent. For once in his life, the kid wasn't talking, moving, or even venting. He was just standing there, staring at the mech before him.

The mech who was him.

This older, war-torn mech chuckled lightly. He looked exactly like Bluestreak besides a collection of old and new scars marring his slightly bulkier frame, and a different, more haunted look to his optics.

"Wh-what the frag?!" Ratchet was the first to find his vocalizer again, and the newcomer inclined his head slightly in the medic's direction.

"It's good to see you all again, despite the circumstances," he paused and passed a practiced eye over Bluestreak, who was still frozen, "Though seeing you comes as a bit more…uncanny."

At this point, the young gunner managed to speak, "Are…are you…?"

The old mech smiled slightly in something that could be sympathy, "I'm you. Older, a bit rougher around the edges, but still the same bot."

Prowl's optic twitching became a bit more pronounced and Ratchet reached over almost subconsciously to tweak some wiring at the back of his helm.

"How…I don't…understand," Bluestreak stammered.

The mech smiled knowingly, "Shiver and Catalytic have explained to you what happened, correct?"

They all nodded mutely.

"Well, then allow me to summarize what you may have missed. I am Commander Bluestreak of the Autobot Remnant Force. We are all that are left of the Autobot faction, besides a few small free-range groups, after the war with the Decepticons was lost on Cybertron. Those under my direct command are mostly the offspring of those who once served with the late Optimus Prime in Iacon. This is what remains of the Ark, now crippled and turned into our base of operations."

Once again there was silence, until Shiver spoke up where she was working once again on some console, "Okay…maybe you still talk a lot."

"In your opinion, Shiver," the Commander chuckled softly, "Where did Catalytic run off to?"

She frowned, "He said he had to go do something. I'm sure he'll be back soon, it's pretty hard to keep him away from his lab."

No sooner had she said this than the door to the lab slid open to reveal a much more composed Catalytic. He grinned slightly at those assembled there and strode over to one of the consoles.

"I'm back, didja miss me?" he cooed at Shiver.

Her systems gave a sound similar to a snort and she glared. Ratchet took this brief moment to look over their frames. They really did look like they had been designed by masters, namely Percepter and Wheeljack, even if they had had sub par materials. Catalytic's frame wasn't as bulky as his father's, but he was by no means small. He looked well balanced and built not only to withstand heavy damage, but to have adequate maneuverability. Shiver was tiny. At first glance she was absolutely not built with battle in mind, but looking closer, Ratchet could see her lithe form was probably one of the most graceful and agile he had seen. She may not be doing any fighting, but Perceptor hadn't left her helpless.

The Commander looked over at Catalytic, "Everything all right, Cat?"

He was answered by a slight flashing of Wheeljack's old vocal indicators, "Yep! Well…no, since they're here and that was my fault, but…."

He looked up sheepishly at his leader, who merely quirked an optic ridge, "Can you fix this?"

Catalytic's systems thrummed in thought for a moment, "I think so? It may take some time though…."

His optics turned to the bots from his past and winced. The Commander noticed this and followed his gaze, finding it landed on none other than the Autobot's old medic, CMO Ratchet. Wheeljack's best friend, Catalytic's "uncle." This was going to be tricky. Thank Primus Shiver chose to actually help someone else and stepped in.

"I hate to kick you all out, but Cat and I need to be able to concentrate without any distractions if we're ever going to get you back. Besides, it'll probably get really boring for you just standing around in here, so…maybe the Commander can take you somewhere?" She said in a clipped, not really apologetic tone.

Commander Bluestreak inclined his helm in affirmation and perhaps some gratitude, "If you'll all follow me," he turned to the door, "There's a few bots who will want to speak with you anyways."

"No, uh, ya know, no one that could cause problems," Catalytic called over his shoulder.

The Commander chuckled, "Of course, I don't want any breakdowns. Good luck, kids."

That was something Ironhide personally had never thought he would hear Bluestreak say, and if Prowl's small double-take was any indication, neither had he. But they followed the Commander without a word, and were lead swiftly down several corridors. Ironhide realized he recognized where they were. He supposed he shouldn't be so surprised, they had said this was the Ark, but it was still odd. In their time, the Ark was being used as transport from Iacon to other places on Cybertron where the Decepticons had attacked, it wasn't outfitted for long distance flight, which meant that at some point it must have been upgraded.

It was…unsettling to say the least to walk through halls that in their time would be bustling with activity. Here everything seemed dead. Along the walls one could occasionally see scorch marks or dents in the once flawless metal. At one point there was some stain on the floor, and Ironhide recognized the sight of old energon when he saw it. This corridor had been a battlefield, and mechs had died. Ironhide wondered if he had known them.

The Commander stopped abruptly at one of the doors at the end of the hall. The old weapon's specialist recognized it as the door to the control room, if that was what they still used it for. Their guide held up his hand for a moment, indicating he was using his comm., before nodding sharply and activating the controls on the door. It didn't escape anyone's notice (except perhaps Bluestreak's, he was still a bit distracted) that the door opened more sluggishly than they remembered, and in fact seemed to catch at one point, causing a slight groaning sound of metal.

"Sir."

The voice that greeted them was, surprisingly, a femme's. They were led in, and faced with the owner of the voice, a tall black bot. Her cuff armor was mismatched, on one side it was brilliant yellow and a bit too heavy for her size, while on the other it was almost too small, and a sort of cream color. Yellow optics watched them with intense interest. At first they didn't notice her companion, but when they did, it wasn't at all what they had expected to see.

He looked like Sideswipe.

Only not.

The mech behind her looked exactly like the red twin, but his faceplates were dead of emotion. He stood rigid, body unnaturally still, seemingly totally focused and centered on the femme. There was absolutely no response to the newcomers; he didn't even twitch when the Commander started introductions.

"Everyone, I think you know who these are, but I'll refresh your mem. banks. Ratchet, Autobot CMO, Prowl, second in command, Ironhide, Weapons specialist, Chromia, his bonded, and weapons specialist for the femme forces, and…."

"Bluestreak," the femme piped up, a small smirk playing on her lip components, "What, you've never introduced yourself, sir?"

He gave her a look but ignored the comment otherwise, "And these are our new leaders. Ebonyshield," he indicated the black femme, "Clippershot, Topliner, Shatterflash, and First Aid."

They hadn't noticed the others in the room, so commanding were (future) Bluestreak and Ebonyshield. Clippershot was as dusky grey, blue, and brown, and had some almost familiar, star-like decals, and a slightly uneasy, though friendly grin. Topliner, a tall, lanky red and white mech who looked like he could easily be distracted by some shiny object, was grinning as well, but more like and idiot than uneasily. Shatterflash was a yellow and white femme, watching them with a guarded, calculating gaze.

The last mech looked like he wanted to be anywhere, even fighting a thousand Decepticons by himself, than here. First Aid was red and white, with some blue, and a visor and face mask, making his expression hard to read, but it didn't take a genius to see not only his discomfort, but his annoyance.

"Yes, we all know each other now, so can we move on?" First Aid snapped, glaring murderously at the Commander.

Ironhide noticed no one even acknowledged the presence of the Sideswipe look alike. His name wasn't mentioned; no one looked in his direction. It was like he didn't exist.

"Of course, First Aid," the Commander replied, ignoring the look he was getting, "You all know what's happened, don't you?"

There was a chorus of "Yes sirs" "Uh-huhs" and even one "affirmative." So he continued.

"Well, Catalytic and Shiver believe they can solve the problem. However, they can't do that at the same time as having these unfortunate bots trapped in their lab, thus we have the responsibility of finding somewhere for them to stay until they can go home. Any suggestions?"

Chromia, though not technically addressed, spoke up first, "Why do we need a specific place to stay?"

"You must understand that things are different now. None of you, except…me obviously, are still alive. Imagine seeing a dead friend or mentor, or even creator again, and knowing they were going to leave just as soon as they've come. I can't have that right now," the Commander explained gently.

The femme shuttered her optics once, it hadn't occurred to her that they were…deactivated. Or that anyone would care.

The yellow and white femme, Shatterflash spoke up next, a flowing accent coloring the words, "We will need someplace out of the way, but not where they will be alone, yes?"

"That's right."

She nodded thoughtfully, "Echoclick is by himself most of the day, no? Why not let them stay with him?"

Clippershot tilted his head thoughtfully, "That would make sense, he's friendly, I'm sure he'd like the company, and no one but us really goes into the communications deck anyways."

The Commander nodded slowly, "That's an idea…."

Ratchet, scowling, butted in to the conversation, "Pardon the interruption, but who is this Echoclick? And do we have no say in this?"

Topliner looked over at him mildly, "No."

There was a loud clang as Clippershot roughly cuffed the taller mech over the back of the helm before proceeding to explain, "Echoclick is our communications officer. And of course you have some say in the matter, but unfortunately the final decision isn't yours."

Prowl nodded in agreement, "Logical. We know so little about this time, we couldn't possibly make an appropriate decision. Calm down Ratchet," he added when the medic continued to scowl in irritation.

The Commander watched them almost sentimentally before looking back at his officers, "So, Echoclick or no Echoclick?"

Ebonyshield tilted her head, "It sounds good to me. But everyone is going to want to know what's going on, they've already figured out there's something strange, we never call meetings like this, especially without, well you know who. What I need to know is what I'm going to be telling them all."

She gave her leader a pointed look and he twisted his faceplates, "Tell them we have guests, but that no on is to disturb them. We'll keep as many out of the loop as possible, which means no talking about this. Topliner," he gave the mech a meaningful look.

Topliner looked offended, "Hey, I don't gossip!"

"No, you just have a big mouth," Clippershot responded dryly, to which the lanky red and white mech scowled.

The Commander's lips twitched upwards into a small, sad smile, "It's decided then. Shatterflash, would you show them to the communications deck?"

She nodded briefly, "Of course," with a wave of her hand she beckoned their "guests" to follow her out of the room, "This way, please."

She moved briskly, her body held erect and proud, going down hallway after hallway, up a transport until they came to what used to be the rec room…Ironhide thought at least. It certainly bore no resemblance now. At least this part of the ship didn't look so battle scarred as the corridors around the lab. Briefly he wondered if it had been the lab or the medbay when whatever attacks that caused the marks had occurred. The thought was cut off, however, when Shatterflash activated the control panel and opened the door to the old rec room.

It had definitely been remodeled.

The entire far wall was a solid, one way window with various consoles and control panels lining it, and a few chairs were strewn about. The room wasn't as dully lit as the rest of the ship because of the natural light from what appeared to be an organic world streaming in. A mech was tinkering with the equipment, some of which beeped quietly, and flickered with life, but none of it looked to be in good shape. Of course, everything on the ship seemed to be dying: the lights, controls, even what they had seen of the bots living there. Sure, they were alive and seemingly healthy, but a glance at some confirmed they must be low on supplies. Topliner, for example, had far too little armor for one his size.

The mech occupying this room, however, had him beat in that department.

He wasn't as tall as the other mechs, still he had the frame of one who should be heavily built. But he wasn't. There was hardly any armor besides some basic covering on his body, and to their horror, one leg was entirely missing, causing him to use a piece of scrap metal as a support, sort of a cane. The only armor on his entire body that looked appropriately sized was the heavy, bright red-orange shoulder plating. His cuff armor was smallish with mismatched green coloring, and a piece of armor on his forearm was colored light brown. Otherwise, his light armor was mostly black and red, and a painfully large amount of wiring and other fragile parts were visible where it didn't cover.

It was disturbing to see a such a young mech so fragile, yet so…happy.

"Well hey there! So are these the ones, Shatter?" he crowed, when he finally noticed he wasn't alone.

She nodded curtly, "That is correct. I hope it will not be a problem?"

He waved a hand dismissively, "No, no problem at all. You're free to go, madam," he bowed, a bit awkwardly, to the femme.

Shatterflash smiled ever so slightly, then turned and disappeared out the door. The mech turned his attention back to those left.

"Hmm…this is very weird, but I'm sure you're more confused than me so…pull up a chair!" he waved an arm around the room, "Sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting company."

He limped over to a chair and sat down heavily, grin never leaving his faceplates. The others, however were still understandably very bewildered, and he motioned them over to sit near him.

"Come on, I was given permission to answer most of your questions, since I'm pretty sure no on else has taken the time to do that yet," he chuckled lightly, "The chairs are about in the best condition of anything in here, myself included, so they won't break, and if you want to go ahead and sit on the consoles, they're pretty banged up already."

His charm was working, and they relaxed minutely, besides Prowl, whose logic chips where still recovering from shock after shock. Ratchet finally vented in exasperation and grabbed a chair, dropping into it across from the young mech.

"So you're Echoclick," he observed, and the mech looked startled.

"How'd ya know that? I didn't even introduce myself yet!" he gaped

Ratchet snorted, "They told us."

"Oh, well, that would make sense. Primus I must be loosing it," he sighed, then grinned, "Yeah, Echoclick, that's me!"

The Autobot CMO nodded while the others slowly joined them, Prowl standing stiffly off to the side, Chromia leaning against a control panel, Ironhide in another chair, and Bluestreak awkwardly shuffling his feet, looking a little shell-shocked.

Echoclick looked over at said gunner with mild concern, "Ya alright there Com- …eh, I mean Bluestreak?" he grinned sheepishly, "…This is weird."

Bluestreak looked up, "Yeah…yeah I'm fine it's just….yeah, weird like you said...soooo weird…weirdweirdweird…"

The damaged mech nodded looking a bit concerned at the mumbling, "Yep. Or you could say uncanny, bizarre, freaky, wild, not-exactly-an-everyday-experience, etcetera. Thus I'm sure the confusion is killing you all. So you guys have any questions?" he suddenly grinned almost like a salesbot trying to make a deal.

Bluestreak jumped in almost immediately, not looking at anyone else, "Who was the red mech with…Ebony-something? Sorry I can't remember her name, I'm usually really good with those but my processor is kinda having some trouble keeping up with all this and so yeah what was his name, cuz...cuz he looked familiar."

Echoclick looked surprised that this would be the first thing asked, but they all wanted to know and looked at him curiously, so he answered with the same easy tone, "It's Ebonyshield. And that would be Sideswipe, do you know him?"

Everything froze for a moment.

Really they should have known, but no matter how they felt about the troublesome mech they had honestly hoped it wasn't him. No one ever wanted a mech so full of life to look so…dead.

Echoclick shifted uncomfortably at the shocked and horrified looks aimed at him, "I'll take that as a yes."

Ratchet spoke awkwardly, "At least he isn't deactivated."

The young mech grimaced at that, "No, but really he might as well be. He really only exists to protect Ebonyshield anymore. Nothing else matters."

Bluesteak looked up in confusion, "What about Sunstreaker?"

Echoclick's expression softened, "Sunstreaker's dead. He was killed several vorns ago," he explained gently.

Another shockwave for the group to absorb. Echoclick respectfully remained silent as he allowed them to come to terms with that.

The gunner looked almost hurt, "How…?"

"The Decepticons set an ambush. It was mostly for Sunstreaker, they wanted to get rid of him, since he was our strongest warrior along with his brother, and they hoped by deactivating one twin the other would go as well. What they didn't take into account was Ebonyshield," Echoclick murmured, a bit distantly.

Ratchet made a face, "What does that little femme have to do with anything?"

He jerked almost if he was physically surprised out of his thoughts, "She's Sunstreaker's creation."

Pause.

'fzzzt!'

Crash!

It was probably a new record for the amount of time it took for Prowl to completely short out.


Lizard: Prowl isn't doing well. Nope, not at all. This is exactly the kind of situation he is supposed to avoid, by order of his therapist. That and anything involving the twins. But we all know how well that goes....

Okay, when I say Shatterflash has an accent, I mean kinda...French. I just didn't want to try typing out the pronunciation. With First Aid, they don't know him yet, the Protectobots have yet to be created in their timeline, but yes it is the same First Aid who was once so innocent and friendly.

And now it's time for...*cheesy game show music plays* Guess the Creator!!! Okay, here it is. In this chapter you have met FOUR, that's right FOUR, new bots with yet-to-be-explained origins! They are:

Clippershot

Topliner

Shatterflash

and Echoclick

Leave a review with your guess on their parents (or at least the dad) and you get COOKIES! Cyber-cookies...from SPACE!!!!! Woo-Hoo! *applause*

yeah...see ya!

LIZARD OUT