Temptation . . . they say you could resist everything but temptation.
Nightstalker stood, looking almost unseeing at Optimus incapacitated on Ratchet's medical berth, blue optics flickering as the effects of the Cybonic Plague began to waste his body away. She swallowed. If she ever killed Optimus and got out of this alive, she would have to thank Megatron.
Nightstalker nearly yelped when Cliffjumper laid his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, calm it down, Nights, Boss bot's gonna be okay." He lightly punched her shoulder in reassurance, and she quickly turned away, nervously fluttering her wings. If he only knew where her mind really was!
"Isn't there a cure?" Nightstalker heard Raf ask.
She pressed her lips together when Optimus choked out that there was none. Still, Nightstalker found herself impressed with the Jack as he persisted, "Would Megatron create a disease without a cure? I mean, what if he caught it by accident?"
"It's not like we can ask Megatron, Jack," Bulkhead reminded him. Nightstalker cringed at, "He's pushing lug-nuts."
Okay, so maybe she was a bit demented in the mind, but Nightstalker had nothing against Megatron. He had always treated her well—and maybe it was just because she had been his berth partner—but it kinda stung a little to know that he was dead.
"But . . ." Ratchet said slowly, an idea forming in his optics, "we might be able to access the Decepticon database."
Nightstalker finally tore her hungry eyes away from Optimus to stare at Ratchet.
"For the moment, we still have a fix on their warship's location."
Arcee nodded strictly. "Bumblebee, come with."
Cliffjumper jumped forward. "What? C'mon, Arcee, take me!"
She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Cliffjumper, you and I both know that you can't sneak to save your own li—"
Nightstalker took a step back when Arcee's eyes fixated themselves on her. Nightstalker blinked. Arcee pointed and ordered, "Nightstalker, you're with us."
There was a beat of silence before Cliffjumper began to sputter. "W-What? Are you crazy, Arcee? We've barely got a hand on her training yet!"
"She doesn't have to fight," Arcee said brusquely, "she just has to guide us." Nightstalker felt her jaw popping in shock. "It's about time we gave her a small taste of the field, and this is perfect—she can help us navigate us right where we need to go."
Nightstalker could have inwardly smacked herself. That was right! She cast a lustful glance to Optimus, feeling a festering hole eat its way into her.
Another time, Autobot scum.
Bumblebee patted her shoulder supportively. *It'll be okay, Nights. Optimus is strong. And don't worry, you'll do great. The first mission is always the most nervous, but also the most fun*
Nightstalker gave a nervous shrug as Ratchet prepared the ground bridge. "I'll take your word for it . . ." she muttered.
Her breathing hitched when Ratchet opened the ground bridge and they leapt through. Nightstalker found herself tiptoeing through to the other side to the all-too-familiar halls.
The bridge closed. Arcee gave a strict nod of her head, muttering into the empty halls. "Let's start with the lab. Nightstalker?"
Nightstalker crept forward, wings twitching nervously. She could feel a prickle up her spine, like Soundwave's emotionless mask was staring right at them.
"This way," she whispered, quickly moving forward. Leading both Bumblebee and Arcee down the halls, all three of them were forced to hide when Knockout sauntered from the lab, but he bypassed without care. Arcee was in the room even before Nightstalker could say, "There it is."
She swallowed uncomfortably as Arcee began to check through the database, scanning and rescanning, and she could hear the femme arguing with Ratchet is low undertones. Clearly, the information wasn't there.
*Nights?*
Nightstalker tiptoed over to Bumblebee and the door he was looking through. "What is it?" she whispered quietly.
His hand clamped down on her shoulder, and a heavy buzz echoed from his voice box. *Arcee, you need to come see this*
Arcee whipped around, furious that the cure wasn't in the system. "What is it?" she hissed impatiently. She stalked over, and when she got a glimpse inside, she gasped. The doors whizzed open, and Nightstalker's spark rerouted itself.
Megatron.
Nightstalker felt her wings perking stiffly. Megatron—he was—right there—so much life support . . . He was completely under, and it was clear a recent buffing job had been done on him to make him look presentable.
Even as Bumblebee and Arcee moved in warily, guns pointing, Nightstalker found herself rooted to the spot. Dear Primus—that was her berth mate! The one she had shared herself with for millennia! An unconscious flop of her spark caused her breath to finally catch and begin to cycle again.
That was when she focused in on Arcee's gun trained at him, and she realized belatedly that they were Autobots—they would kill him!
". . . hooked up to life support. Time to finish this once and for all."
Nightstalker's spark jumped. "Wait!" she cried out to Arcee.
The femme barely twitched. "Give me one good reason," she said coldly. "Fast."
Nightstalker found her glossia twisted. What, indeed? That she just wanted to pay a final homage to Megatron because he had treated her nicer as berth mate, and that she owed her life to him for saving her from Kaon? Before she could even begin to try to explain, a shocked looked overcame Arcee's face. Her gun stopped its angry whine.
"What are you talking about?" she said into her communicator, and that was when Nightstalker realized that she hadn't been listening to her at all.
Bumblebee had, however. He blinked his wide blue optics at her. *Nights?*
She scrambled wildly for the excuse. "W-well," she whispered uncertainly, "if there's a formula, Megatron has to know it, right?" Right? It sounded good to her audio receptors.
Clearly, it sounded good to Bumblebee too. *Nights, that's right!* he commended her, and a furiously unworthy blush covered her cheeks.
It seemed that was what Ratchet was telling Arcee. "Enter Megatron's brain?" she gaped out loud, uncaring of her rising voice. "Ratchet, are you out of your fragging mind?"
A cortical-psychic patch was what it was, Nightstalker was worried sick when Bumblebee volunteered, saying, *I'll do it.*
"Bumblebee, no!" Nightstalker jumped in quickly, wings fluttering like mad. "You can't do it! Let—let me!" Dear Primus, those were the first words off her lips? Nightstalker swallowed uncertainly, trying to talk her way through two amazed faces. "I—I mean—I used to be a Decepticon. I—I know . . . him pretty well . . ." Primus knew she could never admit being his berth mate, they'd cast her out for sure . . . "Please, Bee, trust me, I don't want you to get hurt!"
He gave her a quick hug and a supportive chirp. *I'll be okay, Nights. I'm a scout—finding things is what I'm good at. I'll be okay. I promise*
Nightstalker forced a stiff nod before Arcee hooked him up to Megatron, concealed down in a crevice of the ship. Nightstalker knelt with Bumblebee, holding his hands. Oddly, he seemed to be the one doing most of the comforting. Arcee came back down with the end that would hook Bumblebee to Megatron, and Nightstalker watched him give a positive thumbs up.
Arcee nodded. "Ratchet, we're ready."
Nightstalker's throat bobbed when Arcee hooked him up. Bumblebee's big optics watched Nightstalker until the procedure took over and his optics offlined.
So, they sat. Nightstalker fluttered her wings nervously in their secluded compound, looking through the crack at Megatron. Dear Primus, he was right there. Right there. It was maddening to be that close and see him on life support. How long had he been like that? Endless questions poured through Nightstalker's mind until she shrank back, optics nervously flitting.
"Arcee?" she whispered so softly she barely heard herself. The brave femme looked towards her. Nightstalker wet her lips and continued. "I—I don't know . . . how we managed to get this far."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Soundwave." Arcee's optics widened. Nightstalker nodded. "I don't understand . . . how he didn't see us. If he doesn't see everything on this ship with his own eyes, his pet Laserbeak sees the rest. Why would he allow us in . . . ? And allow us to tamper with Megatron . . ."
Arcee's jaw clenched reflexively as she cast an anxious glance to Bumblebee. "I don't know," she muttered. "But we'll take the opening we've got."
"He can probably hear us right now . . ." Nightstalker's whisper trailed off. Honestly, Soundwave rather terrified her. He was silent, dark, and empty on the inside. He was loyal to the point of having no will of his own, and as a shuck of a transformer, and lethal skills of a gladiator to top it all off. He never paid her heed, and as she trembled with suppressed fear, Nightstalker hoped to keep herself off his radar.
They sat anxiously, each passing minute like a passing hour. Nightstalker carefully regulated her breathing, counting the time she took to take her breaths to keep them steady as well as keep herself occupied. She even kept the time like this, counting the number of breaths she would take in a minute like clockwork.
Both she and Arcee jerked when the door to the infirmary opened.
"Knockout, if you would be so kind as to supply your expert medical opinion to Soundwave for the historical record."
Nightstalker's spark leapt sky high. Starscream, Knockout, and Soundwave all congregated in the room, meeting at their leader's side. She barely felt Arcee's presence beside her, and she prayed that Soundwave would overlook them and the wiring that led down to their hiding place.
Knockout gave a sigh. "Simply put, unaided, Megatron could remain in this deathless slumber . . . forever."
Nightstalker barely breathed. Her chest tightened. That was it? They were . . .
"Our master would not have wanted to be seen in this way," Starscream said with extravagant sadness. "To stand idly by while he remains captive in his own body. It's not just."
Nightstalker's wings fluttered madly when Soundwave took several steps forward, pointing one slender finger towards Megatron's spiking brain waves. Then, it suddenly occurred to Nightstalker—they were debating on taking him off life support and just letting him—him—!
"Brain wave activity," Knockout stated blankly, with disinterest. "Not evidence of consciousness, but merely of an endless dream of which Megatron may never wake."
"Soundwave," Starscream said sadly, "we must face reality. Megatron is lost to us."
"The only honorable option," Knockout added, "would be to show him mercy."
"A simple throw of the switch."
"Quick. Painless. Compassionate."
Her spark rate quickened while Arcee crouched back down to whisper to Ratchet again. They—they couldn't just let him go! Soundwave would never allow it! Nightstalker felt her wings tensing up. She couldn't let them do that . . . She—she owed him a debt. She owed him her life. A life for a life . . . Her debt would be repaid.
Then, another reality hit her like a ton of bricks—Bumblebee was still attached to his mind! If they pulled the plug on Megatron, they'd lose Bumblebee!
A fit panic started in Nightstalker's veins. She couldn't lose another brother, not another one—!
"Soundwave," Starscream said, "do I take your silence to mean you concur with Knockout's medical expertise?" Nightstalker held her breath when Soundwave said nothing. He didn't move at all, and she felt herself crouching on her peds, ready to intervene when Starscream grabbed the life support. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace." Not while she still breathed . . . not while her spark still beat . . . She would repay her debt and save Bumblebee if it were the last thing she ever lived to do!
"Going . . ."
Soundwave still didn't move, and Arcee realized the gravity of the situation as well. She leveled her laser towards Starscream, and Nightstalker rocked back more, prepared to shoot out of their hiding place.
"Going . . ."
Soundwave finally moved, lifting that slim finger to point towards Megatron again. Behind Megatron. Towards the—
Both Arcee and Nightstalker dropped back into their hiding place when Soundwave spotted the wire. Nightstalker gave Arcee a quiet and furious gesture, hissing so quiet she barely heard herself, "He misses nothing!"
Nightstalker backed into their hiding place with Arcee so they would be farther from sight. Starscream picked up the extra wire with a bewildered expression, and then he disappeared from sight as Nightstalker pressed herself against the wall near the still slumped Bumblebee locked in a quartical psychic patch.
"C'mon, c'mon . . ." Arcee whispered desperately to him. There was no way the three of them could take all three of those—they could take out Knockout if he were alone, they may be able to gang-bang Starscream and get away with it . . . Nightstalker shuddered. She was absolutely sure Soundwave could trash all three of them easily if he so chose.
Arcee jolted. "They've got it!" she burst in an undertone, and she quickly removed the patch from Bumblebee.
Nightstalker patted his face when his body slowly brought itself out of stasis. Arcee whirled around and pointed her gun automatically when Starscream's light footsteps sounded near them.
Bumblebee's optics began to flicker back on. "Ratchet!" Nightstalker hissed into the comm. link. "Bridge!"
A furious snarl met her audio receptors. "What in—!"
Nightstalker hurried Bumblebee through the portal, ignoring Starscream's furious gaze as they burst back into the silo. However, Nightstalker's spark ceased beating when she heard the flat line of a spark as the bot hooked up to the medical berth experienced cardiac arrest.
*You got it?* Bumblebee asked immediately.
Cliffjumper hooted for the busy Ratchet. "He sure did, man! Nice work you three!"
Nightstalker jumped when she realized that Arcee had come through and the ground bridge had shut off. Cliffjumper grinned at her and cuffed her shoulder, saying, "Now, was that so hard? Easy as cake!"
Nightstalker forced a weak laugh, shifty eyes drawing back to Optimus so weak and vulnerable on the medical berth. "Yeah . . . Easy as cake."
Another time, Autobot scum.
Still, after much celebration of Optimus's regain of health—of which Nightstalker manually clapped and smiled—Ratchet double checked everything, all the way down to the optics and reflexes.
Nightstalker worried. Arcee had taken a last shot to terminate Megatron, disconnecting him from the life support he was on, which accounted for the sound of his spark flat lining when they darted through the ground bridge. Still, Nightstalker comforted herself with the fact that the life support was easily hooked back to him, and Soundwave would never let anything happen to his master. As far as she knew—and guiltily, secretly hoped—he was still alive.
However, what worried her most was . . . Bumblebee. Well, he seemed fine, but things just seemed a little off about him. He had gotten a bit temperamental while playing basketball with Bulkhead, and now, looking at him in the base, she realized that he hadn't even gone to take Raf to school like he always did.
Nightstalker was just about to go ask what was going on when she saw him walk over and pick up one of Ratchet's flashlights. Her brow puckered, and after a moment, he crushed the thing in his fist with abnormal amounts of force.
"Bumblebee!"
Nightstalker jumped sky high when Ratchet found him. Bumblebee's eyes dilated, and he turned around with a small coo, blinking at Ratchet. "I needed that!"
Bumblebee looked down in confusion at the flashlight. *What?*
Finally, even though he was put off that another piece of equipment was ruined, Ratchet said with genuine concern and bewilderment, "What has gotten into you?"
Nightstalker approached Bumblebee. "What's wrong, Bee?" she asked gently, taking the broken flashlight from his grip.
He displayed frustration and confusion, and finally he said, *I don't know! I—I keep seeing Megatron's face. In my mind*
"You're seeing Megatron's face?" Ratchet echoed. Nightstalker craned her head back up at Bumblebee uncertainly. She took his hand supportively.
Needless to say, Ratchet ran full scans over him when Bumblebee elaborated on these visions of past memories. Nightstalker tried to assure the upset scout, telling him that it was probably just repercussions of the cortical-psychic patch, but their medic was not convinced.
Later, after school when Miko dropped Raf off before she went dune bashing with Bulkhead, Ratchet forced Bumblebee into a stasis, telling the worried Raf about his friend's condition. In all, he hoped the induced power down would force his mind to rest and recover, but that was when they got the call for Decepticons in the polar region.
In short, Starscream was going to mine the biggest unminable energon deposit by melting the polar ice cap . . . which would raise sea levels and demolish coastal cities. Optimus, Arcee, Bulkhead, and Cliffjumper deployed to stop them while Jack and Miko went home for the night. Ratchet was in the back somewhere . . . doing as Ratchet does.
This left Nightstalker content to be, sitting criss cross at Bumblebee's feet while Raf told an invigorating story about his family that night. " . . . so I blow past the finish line! Then my other sister Pilar asked how I got so good at racing games. And I told her I knew a guy who knows cars—"
"Rafael."
Raf and Nightstalker looked up to Ratchet who had walked up. Nightstalker blinked her optics, a bit drowsy, but not as exhausted as Ratchet's tone of voice was. "I'm afraid Bumblebee can't hear you in power down mode. It's getting late, why don't I bridge you home to your family?"
"Because I told Bee I'd stay," Raf said. Nightstalker's lip curled up at his devotion, and he smiled before looking back up at Ratchet. "He's family too."
"Don't be ridiculous," Ratchet scoffed. "You're not even the same species."
Hitching up her legs to her chest, Nightstalker listened as Raf explained, "That's being related. It's not the same thing. I'll show you."
Nightstalker was mildly surprised when Raf pulled out a flip phone. After clicking several buttons, he turned it up to Ratchet. "This is my family." Ratchet leaned down to look. Nightstalker inched up to see a fuzzy picture of a man and wife with four kids, discounting Raf—he would be the fifth.
Ratchet backed away, muttering something along the lines of, "Yes, very nice . . ."
"Very LARGE," Raf said, looking back at the screen. "Sometimes I can shout and no one hears me!"
Nightstalker smirked up at how awkward and standoffish Ratchet was trying to stay, muttering, "Yes, yes . . ."
Raf shook his head. "But Bumblebee always listens." A cute smile pulled across his face, and Nightstalker smiled down at him too. "And I can understand him. Not sure why . . . but I do."
Nightstalker's lips twitched. "Hey, Raf." She poked him lightly, his ticklish spot making him smile reflexively. "I'm here for you too. Okay? After all, you're my just like my little brother now. And so is Bee."
Raf grinned then, casting a glance up to Bumblebee before Nightstalker. "Yeah. You're right."
Nightstalker picked him up, and sitting criss cross again, sat him on her knee. "Go get some recharge, Ratch, we'll be all right here."
Oddly, the medic didn't say anything more but went away obediently. Nightstalker shook her head, sighing, "It's unfair how short I am. I mean—you nearly come up to my knee! Jack is already starting to pass my knee—if he's got a few more years of growing, he might get up to my thigh, like Fowler." She wrinkled her nose. "I am only fourteen feet and nine inches. At least Arcee is over fifteen."
Raf smiled up at her in the dim lights of the silo. "Maybe you're like me. I'm really short now, but I've got years of growing ahead of me."
Nightstalker barely suppressed a giggle. "Raf . . . I'm millennia old. My growing years are over with."
Raf blinked his brown eyes wide. "Really? How old are you?"
She grinned then, crossing her arms haughtily. "Oh really? I thought it was inappropriate to ask a lady her age!"
A searing blush scorched his face, and he nervously scratched behind his ear. "Oh! Well, yeah, that's right." He looked up suddenly, squinting his eyes a little in the darkness. "How come you have orange eyes?"
Nightstalker blinked, wings perking instantly. "W—What?"
Raf pushed his glasses up on his nose and cocked his head. "Well . . . the Decepticons I've seen all have red eyes, but you have orange ones. Why?"
Nightstalker felt the heat of energon wanting to sear her cheeks. "W-Well," she stuttered a little, "it was a . . . personal choice. Like Airachnid—she has purple optics. And Breakdown has yellow. Red is just the standard."
He gave a light shrug. "Okay." Raf scooted down to sit on her thigh and lean against her stomach plates. Nightstalker shifted so he wouldn't fall off. "Nights? I've been telling you a lot about my family tonight, but what about yours? I mean—you've told me a whole lot about Fli-Ni, but what about the rest of them?"
Nightstalker looked away, tapping a finger against the silo floor. "He was it. My family, I mean . . . He was all I had. We were all we had."
Raf looked up wide compassionate wide eyes. "You mean . . ."
Nightstalker gave a shrug. "I don't know who my parents were. Fli-Ni said he remembered our mother some. He said she was a seeker. He said she was silver. Since this was back when the Autobot and Decepticon factions were just starting to form, he said she still had blue optics." Nightstalker looked down on Raf's round eyes, and her lips squirmed a little. "He said she was little, which is probably what made us be really little too. He said she would sing to us." Nightstalker paused, and she let her eyes drift again. "Sometimes I like to think I remember that, but I don't. So I guess I don't really have anything to miss."
Raf leaned against the warm mesh of her belly. "That's so sad . . ." he said softly. She felt his little fingers grip her when he took her into a hug, trying to wrap his small arms around her tiny waist.
Nightstalker tried to give another nonchalant shrug. "It's okay." Still, she cupped her hand gently around his back. "Anyway, he doesn't know anything about our father. We always assumed he was a seeker. Fli-Ni said that whenever he asked our mom about him she said he had gone off to the war and didn't really elaborate." Nightstalker gave a weak laugh, shaking her head. "It didn't dawn on me until I grew up that she never had contact with him because he didn't care about any of us."
Raf looked up again, chocolaty eyes solemn. "Nights, that IS sad."
She gently scratched his back. "Maybe it is, but I can't change it, so there's no use in me worrying over it." Nightstalker shook her head. "I guess it just gets sadder after this. Fli-Ni said that Mom got sick, and she died."
"Nights, that's horrible!" Raf cried, his little mouth popping open. "Do you think . . . it was Cybonic Plague?"
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "If it was, we probably would have been infected too. I don't know what it was, but after Mom died, Fli-Ni and I had no one but ourselves. With Cybertronian currency getting strapped down tight by funding the war efforts and energon was getting scarcer, no one was willing to take in two extra mouths to feed. So, Fli-Ni and I were cast out to the streets."
"Nights—that's just—that's not right!" Raf's arms tightened around her, and she felt his body temperature rise a little with how agitated he had become.
"Right or not, that was how it turned out," Nightstalker said gently. She rubbed his back soothingly, giving a tired yawn before continuing. "Anyways, Fli-Ni took care of me. He made sure to steal some energon for us both, and if not enough for us both, he would always try to give it to me. But . . ." Nightstalker gave a soft laugh. "I think I was pretty intelligent as a kid. I always argued that if he didn't have the energy to steal some, both of us would run out of fuel. So, I took care of him too."
Nightstalker leaned back against the wall, and she looked up to Bumblebee again and the glow cast by the medical equipment. "So there we were, two little street urchins, grey and dirty and covered in dust and scratches, but . . . I don't know, I was happy. Fli-Ni and I goofed off all the time, played lots of hide and seek, helped each other survive, and we always got to explore the coolest places. Kaon turned into a giant playground, and, well, I knew I was loved by Fli-Ni, so it was all fine that he was my only family. He . . . became all I needed."
Nightstalker felt lubricant prick her optics, and she blinked rapidly, shaking her head. "It . . . I . . ." She swallowed, suddenly finding that she was tongue-tied anymore. Her spark tightened, and she was hit with a sudden combination of nostalgia for her home and a need for her brother that her breathing intakes hitched painfully.
"Nights . . ."
Nightstalker looked down at Raf, and he lifted his head, pushing up his glasses on his nose. "I'm glad you decided to be an Autobot. That way, you can be my sister, like Bumblebee became a brother."
She swallowed a bit uncomfortably. "Y-You mean that . . . ?"
Raf nodded, smiling. "Of course I do. And I bet Bee feels the same way."
Nightstalker felt her lips tremble, and she took a steadying breath, smiling softly at the small human in her lap. "Thanks, Raf. That . . . means a lot to me."
He beamed up at her. "Well, it means a lot to me too."
Nightstalker sat with him for some time, just enjoying each other's company. Eventually, Raf scrambled off to find his computer and mess around with it, but that was fine with Nightstalker. She relaxed in the silo, nearly dropping off to sleep when she heard Ratchet's footsteps bring him back to them.
"Rafael," he said, "I'm going to the supply vault to see if I can find parts to repair this." Nightstalker owlishly blinked her optics at him and the flashlight he held up. "You know what that means."
"Don't touch anything," Raf replied knowingly.
"Don't worry, Ratch," Nightstalker said around a yawn. She deliberately sat on her hands for him. "I won't touch anything either."
Ratchet muttered something unintelligible about her as he walked off to the back. Nightstalker chuckled to herself, and she was about to relax again when something unexpected happened.
Bumblebee powered up, and walked off.
"Bee?" Nightstalker heard herself chorus with Raf. He stepped off the pad and immediately began to walk off, and Nightstalker jumped up with Raf. "Bee, wait!"
Nightstalker felt astonished when Bumblebee simply ignored them, immediately powering up the ground bridge and walking through without preamble.
Nightstalker watched with her jaw dropped.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing!" Nightstalker burst quickly to the infuriated Ratchet.
"Nothing!" Raf echoed. "Bumblebee just got up and—"
"He was in power down," Ratchet growled. "Where does he think he's off to?"
"I don't know," Nightstalker hissed back. She looked back worriedly through the ground bridge when it closed. "Should I go after him?"
Ratchet hesitated before checking something. "Even his signal's been deactivated," he muttered, a hand kneading at his neck. "By now there's no telling how far he could have gotten."
Nightstalker fluttered her wings. "Um, Ratch? Seeker?"
Ratchet hesitated again before finally bursting, "Ah-ah-ah—I still don't like the idea of you out of the base without supervision." He turned, and Nightstalker frowned, crossing her arms.
"Because I used to be a Decepticon."
"A valid point, but not the one I'm concerned with," Ratchet stated bluntly, making her brows wrinkle more. He returned to the ground bridge, setting Raf down above it. "You cannot defend yourself properly yet if you were to happen across danger."
Nightstalker huffed some in irritation. Now, she was GLAD Cliffjumper was teaching her to fight, considering that she was really starting to hate being a liability. Ratchet frowned as he looked down on the ground bridge controls. "These are the coordinates for the site of our previous battle with Megatron's undead," he breathed tensely.
Raf's little throat bobbed. "Maybe we should call Optimus."
"Optimus is busy preventing a polar ice cap from melting," Ratchet muttered, opening the ground bridge back up. "We need to handle this on our own."
However, before they could head out, out of all things, Bumblebee walked back through the ground bridge. Nightstalker blinked wide. "Bee?"
"Bumblebee? What have you been doing?"
He didn't even glance at Ratchet, but the medic latched a steely hand to Bumblebee's wrist. Nightstalker's optics widened at the sight of a shard of deep purple, absolutely seeping dark energies from it, clutched in his grip.
Ratchet was horrified. "Dark . . . energon—?"
Nightstalker screamed shortly when Bumblebee hauled off and slugged Ratchet so hard all but knocked the medic out cold. "Bee! What are you doing?"
Raf echoed her, and Nightstalker jumped back when he picked Raf up. No—wait! Unsure of whether to assess him as hostile or not, Nightstalker saw him simply move Raf high enough so that he couldn't run for help.
"Bumblebee, please! I know you're in there! You have to fight whatever is making you do this!"
Nightstalker jumped forward when he went for the ground bridge again. "Bee—stop it!" She pulled on his arm, but staggered back when he merely threw her off. "Bumblebee!"
The ground bridge blasted open with a different set of coordinates, and Nightstalker stood in his way, spreading her arms out. "Bee! Stop it! What are you doing?"
She swallowed, feeling inexplicably small when he came to stand in front of her, optics pinning her to the floor. Nightstalker's breathing cycles turned shallow.
That look in his optics . . . that wasn't Bumblebee.
As if to make his point clearer, his hand grasped her chin and forced her gaze level with his. A dark chuckle fell from Bumblebee's vocals.
*Fraternizing with the enemy . . . how atypical of you*
Nightstalker felt her optics widen. Gasping softly, Nightstalker's hands leapt up to grip at his arm—Bumblebee's arm—How was this even possible? How did he—what did he do to Bumblebee's mind?
How was HE in Bumblebee's mind?
That grip so familiar tilted her chin up with one finger, and he leaned in closer.
*It has been too long, Nightstalker. A pity you changed*
Bumblebee's body brushed by her. Ratchet came to as the ground bridge closed automatically behind him, but Nightstalker found herself rooted to the spot even as Ratchet was shouting at her. The energon rushed in her audio receptors. The world spun.
She glitched.