Author's Note:

Holy SHIT this chapter is long. O.O

On the other hand, I'm late because school and Thanksgiving swamped me, and on top of that I was combating a writer's block. On the bright side, you guys get an awesome LONG chapter in return! :D Good luck trying to cover everything in a review, but I welcome them all even if you can only keyboard smash! *throws heart confetti*

"Nightflier? What are you doing?"

Glancing up briefly, Nightfall gave a rueful smile to Casino, Prophet, and Angel. "Just waxing."

"Well, we can see that," Casino replied with an arc of her brows. Nightfall returned his attentions to the land rover as she said, "But WHY are you doing that?"

He tried to keep the flush down, but he was sure it still managed to singe his cheeks. "I lost a bet," he said evasively.

Angel laughed, raking his blond hair out of his face while Casino tutted her tongue. "Aw, come on now, dear, didn't I teach you better than that?"

Nightfall snorted, and he nudged her away with the tip of his ped. "Please. You didn't teach me anything."

Arcee had added the stipulation that he could only use a rag instead of an actual buffer at the last second, so Nightfall had reluctantly acquiesced. Well . . . Not really reluctantly, per se, since he had been basking in the afterglow of a . . . heh, VERY processor blowing job.

"So?" Prophet elbowed him. "Who got you in for what?"

"Nothing much worth telling," Nightfall said as nonchalantly as he could, but at the same time his face decided to flush fifty shades of red.

Casino laughed in delight. "Look at him blush!" she exclaimed in the vicinity of the hangar. Her voice echoed slightly because there was so little noise in the all but abandoned region of the base. "Now, if anything can make you blush like that, Fli-Ni, it's a story worth telling."

Angel even grinned. "Come on now, Fli-Ni. Fess it up. We've told you embarrassing stories of our own, so I think it's time for a little payback."

Nightfall chewed his bottom lip, keeping his optics blatantly pinned to the streaking wax, almost fanatically glued to his work. "I lost a bet to Arcee," he finally admitted.

Casino busted out even more while the men snickered. "And what'd she get you for?"

Nightfall felt his face burning hot. "She topped again."

He pursed his lips when the resounding laughter was so loud it could have been heard from the very NEMESIS itself. Casino was doubled up so far she couldn't breathe, Angel was crying, and Prophet's face was as red as his hair. Nightfall's wings flared, perturbed, but he just snorted slightly under his breath, muttering, "I don't see why it's funny. I'M the one who got some . . ."

That only made them laugh harder. It was finally Casino who waved her hands, pleading, "I HAVE to tell Boobie this! She'll absolutely die!" and raced off before Nightfall could stop her from spreading the word with juicy gossip.

While Prophet struggled to contain his snickers, Angel wiped his eyes and shook his head while raising his hands. "Hey. As a man who has taken more than he's given, I assure you that you've got the more pampered end of the stick, Fli-Ni."

Prophet's eyes bugged. He elbowed Angel, saying in indignation, "Hey, I didn't know that about you! And I told you about the incident with my sister's friend and the honey, and everything!"

Angel rolled his eyes. "Well, you never asked."

"Yes I did! You just never told me anything!"

Angel seemed to consider this for a second before he just gave a shrug and said, "Well, I guess I just like Nightflier better than you."

A snorting laugh caught in Nightfall's vocalizer as he watched the two men squabble. "What? Hey, you take that back! I am your best bud, and we always will be! Fli-Ni, you know I've known this scrawny kid since grade school?"

Nightfall shook his head as he put the finishing touches on the land rover he was working on and then leaned back comfortably to talk. "Actually, no, I didn't."

Prophet waved his hands. "Pfft, we go WAY back." Angel elbowed Prophet, seemingly trying to get the man's attention, but when it was only a few people, Prophet's mouth was hard to stop. "Can you actually believe that I knocked him off the monkey bars and broke his arm? I always joke that was the time he decided he wanted to be a doctor!" Angel elbowed him again, a little more impatiently so that Prophet grabbed his ribs, shooting him a frown. "Hey! What?"

Angel jerked his head in the direction Casino had ran. "She's finally gone, and it's just us . . ."

For a moment, Prophet just stared, and then he remembered. "OH!" Whirling back around to Nightfall, he blurted, "Dude, what's up with you and your dad?"

Nightfall blinked as Angel groaned, exclaiming, "Prophet! Seriously, do you not have an ounce of class?"

Lip curling at them, Nightfall interjected, "Well, it's fine. But I can honestly say that I don't know what you guys are talking about."

Angel scrubbed his hand over his face, pushing blond hair back from his face. Blue eyes frowned. "Well, since we're just being really blunt . . . Nightflier, the last time we saw you, you and your father were duking it out pretty bad."

"Beating the tar out of each other," Prophet echoed. "You were leaking blue blood and shattered glass. Did you really think we were just going to let that rest?"

The smile faded quickly from Nightfall's face at what they were bringing up, and he vented slightly in frustration. He really shouldn't have expected them to just take that one without an explanation. Picking up the rag and wax to distract himself, Nightfall set to work on the next Jeep, armor flattening as he visibly clammed up. "It was nothing," he said, hating how unconvincing he sounded. "We were just venting some frustrations."

"By beating the tar out of each other," Prophet repeated dubiously. "I'm having a hard time swallowing that one, Nightflier. How about the truth, eh?"

His face scrunched up. Attacking the Jeep with more force than absolutely necessary, Nightfall muttered, "Look, it's personal."

There was a pause. "All right, fine. We understand."

"Don't listen to his sarcasm," Angel interjected. "You don't have to tell us anything."

A frustrated click fell from Nightfall's vocalizer at that, wings fluttering restlessly. "Look, I really can't say," he muttered. "It's just . . ." Blasting out a vent, Nightfall looked up at them, biting his bottom lip. "It's something involving Nights, and I can't say anything out of respecting her privacy. And on top of that—Well, just . . . Just know that the fight helped things. It didn't do anything bad but a few dings." When Angel gave him a look, he raised his hands in surrender and relented, "Fine. A couple nasty bites, but everything's going to be all right."

"Yeah?" Prophet frowned, crossing his arms. "How's your sister? And the Doc? We heard they had gotten taken captive."

His wings twitched before he could stop them. He dropped his big blue optics back down to the Jeep, a prickling feeling crawling along his circuits. "Y-Yeah. Dad's out right now trying to follow the transponder of a Con back to the warship . . ."

There was a pregnant pause as an uncomfortable silence stretched over them, and it took Nightfall a moment to realize his servo was shaking. Taking a deep breath and trying to control it, he was grateful when Angel didn't state the obvious quaking.

"You okay?"

Nightfall nodded vigorously. "I'm fine. It—It's just . . ." A stuttering vent crawled up his in takes, and his wings shivered. "It's just really, REALLY bad that she's with Megatron again . . ."

Prophet frowned. "How bad?"

"Bad enough that I'm seriously resisting the urge to claw through the metal of this vehicle. That bad. Bad enough that I KNEW I shouldn't have let my father go, I KNEW I should have went instead!" Nightfall swore in frustration, servos balling up in fists. "I KNEW I was going to be too restless to wait around! I knew it!"

There was a beat where he seized in several sharp breaths, and then Angel finally said, "So it's not just because of the bet that you're doing this. You just really need to get your mind off things."

When Nightfall gave a jerking nod, Prophet tugged on the loop holes in his pants. "So . . . We've established that Megatron is the bad guy." Nightfall nodded again. Prophet hesitated. "And Nightstalker used to be a Con, right?" Another world-bouncing nod. "So . . ." He paused. "Nightflier, was she . . . you know . . . with him?"

His vents flared open with one giant gust of air before they snapped back tightly. "Yes," he replied with a clipped tone.

A sudden swear filled the room, surprising because Nightfall knew neither Angel nor Prophet succumbed to swearing. "He—Nightflier, look at me when I ask this. Did he . . . You know what I'm thinking. Did he . . . He didn't."

Nightfall's lips thinned. He took his servo away from the vehicle before he serrated the metal with his claws. "He did."

Blood suffused into Angel's cheeks. The medic swore again under his breath, turning and stalking away several steps as he all but shook with anger. Prophet blinked, taking in the scene, and then, he deduced the same thing. The blood leeched from his cheeks.

"Nightflier . . . Oh my God . . ."

That image glazed in his mind. Nightfall felt his energon tanks roll, and he stood abruptly to his peds, stalking off several steps and wings fanning. Angel was the first one to find his voice again.

"Is she all right?"

"I don't know!" Nightfall snapped angrily, wings flexing sharply downwards. He whirled on the two smaller humans, spark so entangled with fear he wasn't sure how he could see straight. "She's never really said what it did to her! So maybe it fragged up her processor, I don't know, and even if it did, I guess she's been healing. She ACTS like she's doing better, but I don't really know, because she never lets me in! And on top of that, she's BACK with Megatron, and Primus knows what he could do to her—!"

He choked off in terror. Primus, what he could have ALREADY DONE TO HER. His spark pump began beating twice that of what it should be. What if he had already raped her?

His knees wobbled as the doubts began to press in, dark and realistic. Angel jumped forward. "Nightflier! Whoa, calm down! Deep breaths. Calm down." Shaking, feeling the blood leeching from every end of his body until he began to feel numb, Nightfall trembled and fell on his knees, sucking in tight breaths. "Be calm. Relax. That's right. It's going to be all right."

Prophet craned his head up at him. "Fli-Ni, your vent things. Open those up, it helps you breathe."

Struggling to comply, Nightfall bent his helm down, shoulders expanding and contracting with huge breaths as he tried to stop the jagged in takes. Fraction by fraction, he managed to loosen his taunt muscles to let his vents relax, and they slowly began to gape open so he could breathe better and cycle in fresh air to his heating systems. His wings fluttered, and his fists clenched.

"Nightflier." His audio receptors twitched at the sound of his name. "It's okay. Set your mind at ease. Ratchet won't let anything happen to her and you know it."

"That's right," Prophet echoed Angel. "She's tough. She's going to be fine."

Nightfall felt his wings sag, and he gave a bark of a laugh. "Funny. That's what my father said."

Prophet nodded, patting his knee. "Then see? Listen to him. Your dad's smart; and so are you. It's gonna be just fine—Wait, Nightflier, where are you going?"

Standing abruptly in the middle of Prophet's sentence, Nightfall shrugged off his insecurities, standing up tall as he reported, "My dad. He's in a dogfight. I need to be in the command center."

Prophet's eyes popped. "Wha—Okay! Well, we'll clean up your mess, take care of yourself!"

Nightfall nodded. "I will." He paused before going out the door, however. He turned back towards the two humans that had allowed him to blow steam off on them, and his optics softened.

"Guys? Thanks."

Her processor didn't quite calculate the speed at which that massive, clawed hand raked down at her. The only thing keeping up with the jittering speed of her spark was her pain receptors. Jarring pain exploded in Nightstalker's chassis, and the floor left her peds in the same second that her back slammed into the closed doors. Her helm whiplashed backwards, whipping the back of her head into the wall, and taunt, straining pain flared through every nerve ending when her sensitive wings bore the brunt of her weight.

Clotting fear filled her vocalizer. Trying vainly to shake the stars from her helm, Nightstalker scrambled to her peds, staggering awkwardly before a palm grabbed her face and gravity ceased to exist. For the briefest second, she was weightless, and she saw the clouds, the deck, and the clouds once more before she hit the ground, metal screeching in a grisly skid that stripped her paint and gave her a budding case of metal burn.

The pressure building up in her vocalizer was overwhelming, and her lips trembled. She had to get out of here, she had to get OUT—Panicked and hyperventilating with terror, Nightstalker tried to find her peds again, but she lurched to the side, her internal diagnostics running wild and equilibrium pitching.

A second later, something HEAVY landed on her right wing, a sickening crunch assaulted her audio receptors, and the dam holding back her fright broke.

Pain seared up her sensors to an overwhelming degree. Screaming shrilly, Nightstalker bucked in the effort to slip her snapped wing from beneath Predaking's ped, but the motion did little more than aggravate her wound further. Shrieking in terror, Nightstalker curled up defensively as she heard the telltale sounds of transformation above her and the guttural snarl of a beast.

Jaws clamped around her, serrated teeth missing her by inches, and Nightstalker screamed as she was again thrown across the hull of the ship. This time, she crashed into the low-hanging ceiling of the "kennel" and the sheer force of which she hit the protrusion made her metal dent in and the covering to break off. She tumbled in a mess on the floor, coughing on backed-up energon, the clattering of the covering following her.

A covering? Her orange optics pinned to the wobbling piece of metal before her helm jerked up to the ceiling. A spike of hope jolted through her.

The air ducts!

A screech brought her helm back down to the charging Predaking. Fear suffused in her chassis, and she squeaked almost inaudibly as she threw herself forward, scuttling beneath the great dragon. A stamping foot nearly caught her other wing, and Nightstalker gasped thinly as she scrambled back to her peds. Squatting as if taking off, Nightstalker leaped, hydraulics springing as she launched herself up as high as she could, servos stretching for the small ventilation shaft.

Her hands made purchase, and her body swung slightly as she gritted her dentures and hauled herself up with every ounce of strength left in her body. Fear spurred her forward when she felt the air move when snapping jaws just missed her peds, and flattening her wings, she hurled herself face-first into the tiny vent. She howled in agonizing pain when her broken wing was jarred, and she left silver flecks of paint on the rim of the opening in her haste.

Squeezing through, nearly hyperventilating in claustrophobia because she could barely move, the enraged roar of Predaking rattled the walls around her. His claws jammed into the small vent, and Nightstalker gave another undignified shriek when she felt the tip of that dangerous claw graze her ankle. Wiggling and pulling herself along as quick as possible, she spied two different forks—one heading up, and one heading down, each avenue taking her to different levels of the ship.

She screamed when Predaking's bulk slammed into the ceiling and jarred the ventilation shaft. Squirming along, Nightstalker pulled herself down the lower shaft, and she was lucky she did so. A second later, the entire vent filled with the heat of blazing fire.

The flames jettisoned upwards, but the heat was still unbearable. Nightstalker shrieked, lurching and wriggling through the tight air ducts with more speed, desperate to get away and fans kicking on and trying to expel the heat only to gather more. The fire stopped, and, vents stuttering irregularly, Nightstalker heard the infuriated roar of Predaking echo down the shafts.

She pushed herself onward, dentures gritting tightly and almost biting through her glossia as her bent wing grated against the tight squeeze in the chute. Ratchet. She had to find Ratchet. He could fix her wing. They needed to get out of here. They were going to feed him to Predaking next. Her spark continued that silent chant, desperate to find him:

Ratchet.

"Autobot base, do you read? This is Ratchet! Can anyone hear me?"

Relief poured into him when he heard an answer. Dreadwing's deep voice filled the comm. link. "Loud and clear, Ratchet. What is Nightstalker and your status?"

"Listen to me," he cut him off shortly, trying to keep his tones low even with sounds of gunfire in the background. Predaking was doing his damage thoroughly. "Megatron has managed to rebuild the Omega Lock ON BOARD his warship." He cast a glance over his shoulder to the Vehicons he had managed to dispose of. "I've deactivated the Decepticon shielding system. You should be able to get a fix on my coordinates."

Ratchet winced when the sounds of fighting came closer. He needed to move. NOW. Before Predaking had the chance to undo the second chance he gave Ratchet. "Nightfall, you must hurry. Megatron is preparing to Cyberform Earth as we speak!"

"And my sister?" his voice cut in quickly.

"I'll find her!" Ratchet snapped before leaving the consol, taking off down the hall. He could only thank Primus that Predaking had been intrigued enough at his words to listen and hear the truth, as grim as it was since it pained not only one guilty party, but two. He would let the Predacon sniff out Megatron and hopefully put the hurt on him that Ratchet would never be able to.

Instead, Ratchet ran down the halls of the NEMESIS, spark pounding as he postponed confronting Shockwave who was preparing the Omega Lock and instead ran as fast as he could. She had to be in either one of three places: the brig, Megatron's room, or . . . ready to be melted down for spare parts. He hadn't seen nor heard of her save for that brief glance Megatron gave him.

Spark pounding hard, Ratchet dared any Decepticon to get in his way now.

Nightstalker at least THOUGHT she was going to get to Ratchet ASAP.

Her first problem was her wing. It was KILLING her, and she couldn't move through the vents without scraping it along the sides, so she had to get out of the vents first. But first she had to experience a crippling bout of claustrophobia that kept her silently crying in those vents for Primus knew how long. By the time she had finally gotten a hold of herself, she still had to crawl through the air ducts until she found another ventilation opening, use her lava to cut through the metal, and only then could she slip out as a shivering, sweltering mess in the middle of one of the hallways of the NEMESIS.

Then, she had to scramble for cover in the service ducts so no one would see her. She secretly thought Soundwave knew where she was, but that could be because she had a secret paranoia of the mech. Then, before she could get far, she heard, of all bots, PREDAKING on a rampage, and she just scuttled along beneath the catwalks, trying to crawl her way toward the brig since they were probably keeping Ratchet hostage there.

Only, she froze hearing a voice.

"Are you sure confronting the beast-bot directly is the best course of action, Lord Megatron?"

Nightstalker peeked up, and through the gap, she felt her spark leap to her throat seeing Starscream, Megatron, and Knockout's peds. "We shall see how HIS MAJESTY fares against the most powerful weapon in our vault. The Dark Star Saber!"

Nightstalker's jaw slacked as they walked right by. She was NOT getting caught up in this again. Scurrying along, hidden in the service ducts, she winced when she heard a crash and the deafening roar of, "MEGATRON!"

"I'll just go fetch that little something we talked about—" and Knockout had barely finished his sentence before he was fleeing down the halls. Nightstalker narrowed her optics as she watched his peds fly by. Cowardice to the end.

"Is it true that YOU ordered the annihilation of my brethren?"

Nightstalker felt her body freeze mid-motion again. He . . . What? She was suddenly turning back around to peek at this confrontation. The Predacons . . . That was a plant? To lure the Autobots there so THEY would be the ones pinned with blame even though it had been Megatron himself that wanted them dead? Nightstalker felt her spark hit the pits of her stomach.

He orchestrated the loss of his brothers?

"Indeed," she heard Megatron's cruelly sly voice admit freely. "And my only mistake was not seeing the extermination through."

A chill slithered down her back at the grating slide of metal sliding against metal, the clear sound of a blade being drawn. Predaking snarled, and it was almost immediately that Nightstalker heard the fighting erupt, heavy, brutal, a smack down equal to the brutal might of such large and dangerous mechs. Going back the way she had come, Nightstalker peeked up out of the service ducts to see Predaking snatching up a dead Vehicon.

"I will tear you apart!"

Nightstalker winced as Predaking used the dead body as a weapon, literally hitting Megatron so hard that the Vehicon's body snapped into pieces, throwing Megatron down the hall. Predaking rushed him, and Starscream hovered, optics narrowed at the fight.

Nightstalker's optics pinned to Starscream. Her sight flicked back to Predaking who literally had Megatron pinned against a door with nowhere to go. She realized exactly what he was going to do a second after he did it.

"Starscream don't!" Nightstalker rushed out, climbing from the ducts and right into the open as she rushed the mech that lifted his weapon, aimed, and fired the missile directly at Predaking's back. He roared in pain. She flung herself at Starscream, throwing her weight on his arm a second too late, and Starscream snarled, grabbing her and slamming her to the ground. Nightstalker cried out, spasming when her already hurt wing was caught under her body. A sharp ped kicked her gut with grace, and she felt herself sail down the hallway, sent closer to Megatron and Predaking.

"But I was a champion of the pits of Kaon not only due to my savage might . . . but also my CUNNING!"

Nightstalker looked up in time to see the blast doors open up, revealing the second set of doors that led straight outside. Nightstalker's spark hit her peds when Predaking stood back up, disoriented, and without a thought to where her mother's compassion was leading her, she bolted towards Predaking, and yellow optics fixed on her.

"PREDAKING, WATCH OUT!"

The air lock sprang open, and immediately the air pressure dropped and Nightstalker screamed as everything was sucked out of the ship. Predaking roared, grabbing on to the doorjamb as the winds threatened to rip him from the room. Nightstalker felt her body literally lifted, and she sailed towards the exit. Shrieking, her claws found purchase at Predaking's ankle, anchoring her down as the winds gusted.

Energon leaked from him. With a great effort, Nightstalker shifted her grip, grabbing the grooves in the floor where the doors would shut. She gritted her dentures, frail arms struggling to hold herself inside.

"You should have heeded my advice!" Megatron snarled. Nightstalker looked up, fear blanching her face. "And faced me as a BEAST!"

His fusion cannon charged. "Megatron!" The gales all but stole her words away from her. "Don't!"

He almost didn't even register her scream, but his shot blasted Predaking directly in the chassis, sending the mech flying out of the air lock, critically wounded, falling to his death. However, the suction of the wind dragged the warlord forward, and he was forced to brace himself on the doorjamb lest he get sucked out as well. Nightstalker felt her spark shiver when Megatron's optics pinned to her, and she looked back into the ship seeing Starscream standing just at the edge of the hallway.

"Starscream!" She screamed his name, terror eating away the edges of her existence as she hung on the ledge with her greatest oppressor right above her. "Starscream, help me, please! Please! I'm your daughter! I'm your CNA, your energon, please! Help me!"

Megatron gave a cackling laugh dancing on the edge of madness. "Yes, Starscream! Why don't you HELP your daughter? This is your finest ultimatum! Show me where your loyalties truly lie, Starscream! Take the shot you prefer! The back of a tyrant, or the face of a whore!"

She watched his optics shift between the two of them, cold, closed, unnerving in the way she couldn't read his usually erratic emotions. He was calculating, cruel. Fear slithered its way in her spark as she began to lose her grip.

"Starscream!" she screamed at him, tears pricking her optics. He was her father, he was still her father, if only by energon, there had to be SOMETHING—"Help me, please! I KNOW there's something in you that cares! Please! Daddy, please! PLEASE!"

His servo transformed, and fear gripped its slimy claws around her neck, holding her fast when those red optics were focused on her and only her. "Dad! Dad, please!" His weapon leveled itself her way, and panic tore through like a hurricane past the terror. Her voice shrieked, cracking and screaming as tears flew, betrayal whipping through her like a bullet. "Daddy, please! PLEASE! Don't do it, please, PLEASE!"

She saw the flash before it collided with her. The force of the blast sent her little body soaring through the opening of the air lock, and her frame was whipped, tossed and turned by the winds. Her crippled wing was useless. Her optics had shorted out. There was a roaring in her audios, more from the energon rushing than the winds gusting. She was thrown, whirling in a chaotic fall until she slammed against something hard and metal, and the world swam into black.

Being Prime sucked.

Cliffjumper got to go on the mission to find Nightstalker. Nightfall? Oh no. He had to confront Megatron. He was the Prime, after all. He had to confront the leader, as horribly as that had gone last time. His healed wing twitched with the last residue of nervousness. Things would be different now. He was more mature now, he had more hard battles tucked under his belt.

And, he had his father to back him up.

Trusting the team to do their parts, Nightfall did his part for his oncoming father. Zipping down, Nightfall landed on the first turret, hacking through it with his sword and mangling the thing, stopping one stream of bullets intended for his father. Flipping up and transforming again, he soared to the next, gutting the turret to help his father reach the ship without getting gunned down, and as Dreadwing approached, he felt contact through his spark:

Megatron.

Nightfall looked up from the ruined gun he stood upon, and his jaw ground as he saw the gleam of the Dark Star Saber above. Transforming his stun guns out, Nightfall unleashed a flurry of bullets to Megatron. The sword slash own, sending a gleaming arc of light bent straight for Dreadwing, but Megatron snarled when Nightfall's bullets numbed his leading arm momentarily. Megatron roared and transformed, taking off into space, and Nightfall sheathed his sword again, taking off and following to the Omega Lock.

Landing on one of the side struts, Nightfall felt a jolt through his peds, and he craned his neck back, watching as the Omega Lock opened up. Drawing his stun gun again, Nightfall scanned the opening and found just who he was looking for—Shockwave.

Open firing on the mech, the scientist had the reflexes to duck and avoid his attack. A warning brush in his spark, and Nightfall turned just in time to see Megatron, teeth bared in the attack and claws spread.

He didn't even have time to swear before Megatron had collided with him, taking him off of the side and down below, almost making them tumble down into space. Grunting and flipping back up to his peds, Nightfall lashed his shield on and turned it on, and he drew his short sword, Megatron already ordering Shockwave to commence the Omega Lock's firing sequence. Earth orbited slowly below, unassuming, the beautiful blue, picturesque backdrop of what they were fighting for.

Nightfall's wings spread and flared aggressively. His lip curled. The personal strife he was fighting for as well.

"Well!" Megatron said with a mad gleam of his optics and a rakish grin of his lips. "I see the pup has come to feed the big, bad wolf!"

Dreadwing's engines as he came screaming in gave him away. Megatron whirled at the last second when Dreadwing fell in with the attack, and Nightfall snarled, launching his assault as well. The two gladiators fought ferociously, Dreadwing with the lethality and grace he was known for, and Megatron with the brutality and power that crumbled worlds. Nightfall zipped between them as the young Prime, floating swiftly between slashes and stinging with a blade not nearly enough to combat the might Megatron wielded.

Megatron's knee, lethal with chevrons, nearly gouged into Nightfall's neck. Luckily, Nightfall's size worked for him and instead of a killing blow, he met with the blunt end of Megatron's knee, chin fitting perfectly between the knife-like chevrons. Nightfall fell back, sprawling, articulators partially shattered as the Omega Lock hummed with power and pooled with Synthetic energon. Dreadwing shouted, breaking past Megatron's defenses next with a hacking slash down at his leading arm. His blade bit into the warlord's outer shoulder, but the hilt of the Dark Star Saber jammed square into his helm.

Nightfall leaped back to his peds when his father staggered in disorientation, but Megatron didn't take the killing blow, knowing the Prime was coming. He whirled back around with a ferocious attack, but Nightfall skidded beneath the attack. Ducking between the warlord's legs, Nightfall slashed at the back of his knee, making a shallow cut in the sensitive area, but not before Megatron's ped kicked him with such force he sailed above his father, crashed into the Omega Lock, and fell back down with a low grunt, coughing on backed-up energon.

Before Megatron could launch his next assault, a harsh jerk of the ship sent them careening off course. Grunting, spitting a glob of energon from his mouth, Nightfall internally thanked whichever Wrecker it was that couldn't steer worth a dime because it had stalled Megatron from making prey of them.

A brief standoff ensued as they reset for the next clash, nursing wounds and energon dripping. Megatron's lip curled at both Dreadwing and Nightfall, twin looks of pure hatred for both father and son painting their faces.

"Where is my sister?" Nightfall shouted at the warlord.

Another laugh spilled from Megatron's mouth, curdling and unpleasant. "Well, wouldn't you like to know, Prime!"

"Tell me!" he snapped, frustrated that Cliffjumper hadn't reported anything and wouldn't until he had found even a LITTLE something pointing to Nightstalker.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find her some day!" Megatron roared, laughing so hard that Nightfall almost took the next strike.

Anger flooded his spark. Energon suffused into his cheeks. His fists clenched on his weapons as he shouted, "Backstabber! You rapist! Cold sparked! Tyrant!" The words came flooding out, the most immediate ones he could think of that could possibly even BEGIN to describe Megatron. "I should have known that you were beyond redemption!"

"There's the Prime in you talking!" Megatron yelled right back at him, but there was a lilt to his tone that was almost PLEASED. "Of course I am beyond redemption! I am a bitter slave, an evil entity that must be wiped from the face of this universe by the sacred follower of Primus!" Nightfall bared his denta at Megatron, intent on meeting him tit for tat. "I have been condemned by your hypocrisy, but that will not stop me! I don't need your forgiveness! I don't want your forgiveness!"

Clarity lanced through Nightfall. "Not mine—OPTIMUS PRIME'S!" Megatron reeled back like he had been slapped, and Nightfall gave one flat, bitter laugh. "But it's too late for that! You festered in your sins and were deceived by your own lust for power and killed the one you cared about most!"

"You know nothing about Optimus Prime!"

"I know he hurt you! But that's no excuse to hurt everyone and everything that touches you!"

"SHUT UP! You know nothing about me!"

It was so CLEAR to him now! It was Nightfall's turn to laugh, a slight touch of hysterics coloring his voice as he realized EXACTLY what it was that made Megatron tick.

"I don't need to!" Nightfall cried out, staring right into the depths of those bloody red optics so volatile with rage. "It's made itself apparent that you're terrified of someone actually caring about you! The same situation keeps happening—when Orion Pax grew close to you, you betrayed him! You had Nightstalker eating from the palm of your hand!" He threw his arms out, voice cracking with angry and overwhelmed passion. "She would have loved you! She thought you loved her! But you had to rape her to prove you didn't need her because you were afraid to actually let someone in! And when I told you how much I looked up to and adored you, you immediately manipulated me and turned me against you!"

Megatron stood, stiff like a board, but shaking so violently Nightfall wasn't sure how he hadn't snapped yet. His red optics spat fire enough to consume worlds and burn Nightfall with just a glance, but Nightfall glared right into the depths of that hellfire he contained, a sneer of contempt and pity stretching across his face.

"Your misery is created by your own hand, Megatron!"

Megatron howled a sound of dripping fury, and in that second Nightfall realized he had probably antagonized the wrong mech. Dreadwing knocked Nightfall out of the way of a blinding flash of dark energies, and Nightfall yelped, scurrying out of the way as Dreadwing covered his aft when Megatron blindly attacked him.

And with this, Nightfall realized that while Megatron was certainly dangerous when he was enraged, he was also BLINDED by his rage. He couldn't see beyond Nightfall. His spark blazed to life as he seized this one opportunity, practically shouting to his father through his spark:

Dad! OUR LESSON!

Letting Megatron put him on the run, Nightfall blocked long-suffering blows with his shield, electrical sparks flying up in great clouds and tickling his arm. He warded Megatron off with small swipes and blocked attacks with the flat of his blade, hoping that his blade wouldn't snap beneath the force of the blows or that his shield wouldn't short out. In the meantime, as Nightfall distracted Megatron and fueled his anger even more, Dreadwing moved in for the kill.

He moved with the style of his son. He attacked the weak spots, preying on these as the way to slowly cripple Megatron of more important movements. He sliced hip wires, cut beneath his arm pit, and shredded the soft spot between his thumb and pointer finger. Energon slicked the blade, but Megatron held fast. His hips and knees collapsed beneath his weight, but his rage fueled him. His attacks were taxed by the sensitive cut beneath his lead arm, but he attacked relentlessly, angered and infuriated.

Nightfall nearly lost an arm in the process, but with silent communication through his spark, Nightfall saw the moment his father fell back. Following, Nightfall feinted an attack and darted between the spread legs of the Decepticon warlord, hightailing it straight for Dreadwing as a bomb soared over his head.

A rocking explosion blasted behind him, and the force of it sent Nightfall's little body flying forward, but Dreadwing was there to catch him. It was Megatron that bore the brunt of the bomb, and the warlord roared, wreathed in smoke as he collapsed to the ground, armor cracked and bleeding.

Only faintly aware of the scuffle above, Nightfall hissed, sucking in tight vents as he stalked towards Megatron, Dreadwing shadowing him, but content to let his son deal the coup de grace.

Nightfall twirled his blade once before gripping it tightly, a disoriented Megatron gazing up at him through staticy optics. His cobalt optics glared, colder than ice. "I hope you realize that this is for my sister."

He lifted his sword for the killing blow, to drive it directly through the mech's depraved processor, and the second he was at the peak of his stretch, Megatron's servo flashed out, claws jabbing beneath the plating of his chassis and hooking into his protoform, trying to stretch straight through to his spark. Nightfall screamed, dropping his blade somewhere, and he felt himself lifted and flung. He crashed into the side of the Omega Lock, hissing as he flipped once before coming to a stop.

"The Star Saber!"

Blinking quickly, vents seizing painfully as his chassis expanded and contracted quickly, the pain flooding his spark chamber nearly sending him into a state of shock, Nightfall's optics snapped open as he lifted his helm. His spark then promptly hit his stomach as Megatron knocked Dreadwing's blade to the side and felled his father with a blow before leveling his fusion canon at the one black and yellow bot leaping down with the Star Saber hoisted high.

Nightfall lurched, aware he was screaming the young mech's name as that first blast impacted with a grisly blow. The sacred sword popped from his grip as his servos went slack, and it wasn't just one shot, it was three. Three, deadly accurate shots that collided consecutively into the scout's chassis, demolishing the chassis doors protecting his spark. The metal mangled, scorched with blaster fire, and he lit to flame, falling limply and splashing into the Synthetic Energon powering the Omega Lock. He sank, slowly, seeming to disappear through the substance, and Nightfall felt his tanks flip and his spark break as he turned his face away.

In the middle of the desolation flooding his spark, Nightfall also felt anger. Anger like he hadn't felt since he had learned about Nightstalker's rape. It broke free, raging through him, flooding him with the blindness Dreadwing had always preached against. The black storm rose, and after a moment, Nightfall realized it wasn't him.

It was Dreadwing.

His father's feelings looping back through his spark, Nightfall lifted his helm hearing a roar unlike he had ever heard before. Dreadwing attacked Megatron bare-handed, punching him with so much force he nearly broke the warlord's jaw, claws raking and ripping with such force he drew energon and bloodied his fists with his energon. And as he watched, stunned as his father waylaid into Megatron, for a second Nightfall couldn't understand the incomprehensible irony that out of all the people to snap over Bumblebee's death, it would be Dreadwing when Bumblebee had been the very mech that had killed Skyquake.

Dreadwing's fists impacted with crushing force on Megatron, and Nightfall stared as his father broke the very rule he had preached so much. Nightfall had always noticed the strange dynamic between Bumblebee and Dreadwing. It was quiet. No one talked about it for fear of what it was, and neither Dreadwing nor Bumblebee seemed to want to explore it either. But it was there. That strange hatred Dreadwing held because Bumblebee stole his brother, but also the sheer impressments he held that such a young scout could possibly take down a highly trained gladiator, soldier, a fighter such as Skyquake.

And it wasn't just that twisted respect and hatred. It was the young mech's way that had gotten under his protoform, the one that had initially made him doubt whether he truly was Decepticon or Autobot, and realizing he was as far as he could be from being the former. It was him giving in and knowing he was an Autobot, through and through, even before he had pledged his allegiance to his son, now Prime. It was the scout apologizing for Skyquake's death, wishing it different, even though it made no difference, proving his innocence in a time fully of iniquity.

And it seemed like the ties of family far superseded everything. Though he wasn't Dreadwing's by energon, or even any sort of family ties, he was always claimed as Nightstalker's brother. And because he was Nightstalker's brother, he was Dreadwing's son by association. And while they barely spoke, there was something between them, something beneath the surface that fit the other and held the other in line, and without it, the presence of a spark as innocent and compassionate as Ampere's, Dreadwing snapped.

Somewhere in the mix, the Dark Star Saber had been knocked from Megatron's grip. So when it was suddenly back in his hand, Nightfall couldn't even comprehend the force at which he screamed.

NOT ANOTHER. NOT MY FATHER. NO MORE DYING—

Dreadwing shouted, the force of the Dark Star Saber's power lambasting right into his chassis. Nightfall jerked, hauling butt to his peds, but it was too late to do anything. Dreadwing skidded across the Omega Lock, flipped over the edge, and Nightfall flung himself to the side, screaming and screaming.

Until, a ship, as if out of nowhere, soared right beneath him, and Dreadwing landed safely on top of it, if mangled.

Nightfall's processor stalled on the ship. A ship? What ship was that? He had never seen that spaceship before. Oh wait, he knew that ship. And he KNEW the presence in his spark that, of course, was PANICKING like his brother always was.

NIGHTFLIER, MEGATRON!

Gasping in a sharp breath, Nightfall flipped back over, shaking, and his optics widened as he looked up at Megatron looming over him, Dark Star Saber raised for the kill.

"Prepare to join your sister in the All Spark!"

"Megatron!"

Two things happened next: coiling, sickening, terrifying clarity over what happened to his sister; and then, a sword somehow sticking out the back of Megatron's chassis.

In fact, the image was a little surreal. No sword and then suddenly, out of nowhere, a sword just jutting out of the center of his chassis. Of course getting impaled like that caused a spit of energon to spray at Nightfall, and he stared at Megatron, who was just as equally confused as the other.

Glancing over, Nightfall stared at the sight of . . . BUMBLEBEE? Bumblebee was stabbing Megatron with the Star Saber. And his chassis—his chassis was healing, forming over again as if he hadn't ever been shot in the first place. He GLEAMED. He absolutely glowed with a shine as if he had simply come straight out of the Well of All Sparks.

Glimmering blue optics dilated tight, staring directly into the warlord's black spark. "You took my voice. You will never rob ANYONE of ANYTHING ever again!"

And suddenly, Nightfall realized, he wasn't supposed to be Prime. Neither was Smokescreen, for that matter. Megatron gasped thinly, choking on the energon obviously backing up in his systems, and Nightfall just watched, as helpless as when he had first began, as Megatron's life ebbed away. The warlord pitched to his knees at the edge of the Omega Lock, and Nightfall just . . . stared. There he was. A true Prime.

There was a beauty in the way he died. Final and epic. The Decepticon symbol on his chassis, cracked straight down the middle, and the gleam of his spark fading to nothing. He slid backwards, metal scraping against the blade as his fingers clenched even in death against the sword. His optics flickered, flickered, and died.

Nightfall couldn't help but turn and watch as Megatron's body fell backwards, dropping like a comet, like a falling star towards the Earth. And through it all, he felt a warring torrent of relief, satisfaction, and . . . sadness. His wings sagged down as he stared at the remains of the mech who had truly torn down the caste system, uprooted it from Cybertron, and had supplied every means necessary for being able to rebuild Cybertron. And now, he was gone. He would never see Cybertron brought back to life. If anything, Nightfall wished he could give him that.

So this is how far our heroes fall.

The glow of reentry slowly began to fade. Nightfall still gazed after him, but he finally noted the presence of another next to him. A hand extended towards him, and Nightfall looked up to see Bumblebee had his servo out to him. A bit shell-shocked, Nightfall grabbed it, hissing and wincing when his chassis moved from where Megatron's claws had impaled their mark on him.

They didn't say anything to each other. Nightfall grabbed the Star Saber, and the sword barely budged under his strength. Then, he just left the sword and he and Bumblebee both climbed back up the Omega Lock and inside to where the others were waiting.

Dreadwing communicated with him through his spark, telling him he was okay, only that Ratchet was going to blow a gasket when he realized the amount of patching he was going to require. On the other end, a side he had missed so much over his time as Prime, was First Aid, reporting they were landing on the strip above and promising they'd see him soon.

And though he was scared to his core about Megatron's last words, he knew better than to trust a Decepticon.

They met Ratchet, Smokescreen, and Arcee at the top. Arcee immediately moved to his side, supporting him, and Ratchet stared, almost slack-jawed at Bumblebee as he breathed, "Bumblebee . . . Your voice!"

Bumblebee's brows pinched. "My voice? What are you g—MY VOICE." His big optics swirled wide, and Nightfall blinked as he witnessed the mech's battle mask slide away to reveal a mouth. And here he had thought Bumblebee didn't HAVE a mouth. He hadn't realized he covered up the shame by always wearing the mask.

Bumblebee gave an overwhelmed laugh. "Ratchet, I have my pipes back!" and he dashed forward, seizing the medic with a tight hug.

Ratchet laughed too, this miracle standing out against the apprehension that still covered them. "Yes! Yes, we noticed!"

Bumblebee's optics swirled as he stared at his hands, looking down at his body that was healed beyond what standard equipment or even advanced equipment could have done. "The Cyber matter . . ."

The medic nodded, a soft smile of relief and even happiness showing on his face as another edge of guilt was eaten away from his spark, lightening his load. "Yes. It is the only possible explanation."

Nightfall felt his mouth curl up ruefully into a smile as he watched them. "Looks like the field medic didn't do too bad after all," he said, catching Ratchet's attention. Then, realizing that the rest of the team didn't know what had happened, Nightfall cleared his vocalizer and accessed his comm. link. "Autobots, Megatron's dead." He squeezed his optics shut, realizing how awful that sounded. "He's terminated. He's—no more." There. That sounded diplomatic. "Wreckers? Nice job securing the brig."

"It wasn't us, Sir," he heard Ultra Magnus say back. Nightfall's brows lifted, and he flinched slightly when Arcee put her hand over his wounds, helping stifle the energon leaking. "The credit belongs to the humans."

Nightfall's brows rose again. Well, throw him in a smelting pit and call him hot. Those kiddos were bright little things. He mentally made a note to thank whoever had driven so awfully.

Gently disentangling himself from Arcee, Nightfall murmured under his breath to her that he would be all right and instead looked to Ratchet who was tapping on the controls of the Omega Lock. His optics flared. "The Omega Lock is under our control," Ratchet reported. "I propose that we put it to good use."

"Agreed," Nightfall said. He looked up the ship. "But first, I've got some family to meet. Ultra Magnus, set course for Cybertron. Cliffjumper, rendezvous with us in the bridge." Through his spark, he embraced his brother warmly, missing his presence.

First Aid, meet us in the bridge.

Will do. Drag the 'Con with us?

Nightfall's mouth twitched as he led the bots back into the NEMESIS.

Come on now, First Aid, don't you recognize him?

Designation Dreadwing, one of Megatron's high ranking air commanders. I presume you wanted this one alive?

More than alive. You better treat him like a king. He's an Autobot now, or don't you see the decal? I'll explain it all later.

All right, then. We're taking your word for it. There was a pause. You feel . . . different.

Nightfall vented slightly. There was the understatement of the century. But it was true. He wasn't the same mech that had unwittingly found himself on Earth out of sheer circumstance. He was . . . yeah. Different.

It's a long story, and one I'll tell after we restore Cybertron.

To that, he felt First Aid's shock, but he seemed to take Nightfall's words as they were and his promise to explain everything later.

The walk to the bridge where everyone else was seemed to take longer that it really was. That could be because he was excited to finally see the Protectobots again and hear how the frag THEY got all the way out here. And when he finally stepped foot into the bridge, he found Dreadwing sitting patiently on the ground, a perturbed Blades hovering suspiciously near him as Hot Spot was deep in conversation with Ultra Magnus, trying to get debriefed on the situation. However, the second he walked into the bridge, Nightfall saw all their optics pin on him.

Hot Spot hooted, and he was the first to bolt across the room. "Nightflier! You little fragger! You've been out here playing hero and left us stranded on Cybertron?" Nightfall laughed, wincing a bit as Hot Spot grabbed him up in a bear hug that could have rivaled even Bulkhead's giant hugs. He plopped him back down with a grin and punched his shoulder with a wide grin. "Look at you, trying to grow up without us to keep you in line! I am so disappointed!"

Nightfall smiled, wings perking up. "Yeah? Well, I'll have you know—"

"Hey, lemme have at this kid!" Before Nightfall could continue his sentence, he let out a surprised, mock-choking noise as Streetwise wrapped his arm around his neck in a hug that slung him right into his chassis. "Little Bit-Brain—more like a miss clock! Taking on Megatron? You stupid little turbo fox!" His large knuckles then ground back and forth against Nightfall's helm with a humiliating noogie.

Nightfall shouted, squirming indignantly as he hollered, "Streetwise! Stop it! Let go of me!"

"Ha ha! Not a chance!"

"You shouldn't have let him grab you," Blades huffed as he made his stand-offish ways over closer to the group and First Aid angrily pushed Groove out of his way when he was getting boxed out.

Nightfall finally wriggled out of Streetwise's grip so he could grin at Blades. "Aw, don't sound so happy to see me!" He extended his arms for a hug, and Blades immediately stiffened and narrowed his optics, daring him to get close. Nightfall waggled his fingers. "C'mere, Blades. You know you want it."

"No, I am absolutely sure that I do NOT want any part of—"

"Oh c'mere you hug-deprived soul!"

Nightfall lunged before Blades could stop him, and the helo grumbled audibly in irritation, but Nightfall had locked his arms to his side so he couldn't fight back. His propellers twitched as he snarled, "All right, all right! That's enough! Now let me go before I knock you down!"

"You'll do no such thing," First Aid cut in brusquely, parting them as his optics roved from behind a solid blue visor. His battle mask slid back to reveal a frown as he exclaimed, "Nightflier, you're leaking all over the place! Sit down, I've got to patch you up. Groove, back up, you're crowding us."

Groove managed an indignant wrinkle of his olfactory system, but he wasn't really bothered. In fact, he just drawled, "Stay cool, Aid, I just wanted to say hello to our boy."

"Well, you can say hello when I'm done with him."

Immediately, Hot Spot, Streetwise, and Groove all backed up exaggeratedly, Blades a little more haughtily than the others. "Nightflier," Hot Spot said, "sorry to say, but you're on your own dealing with him."

Nightfall merely laughed again, actually missing his brother's melodramatic worry. He grabbed First Aid's shoulder, telling him, "Calm down, Aid! I'm fine, really."

"Fine?" First Aid ducked his helm, fingers probing at the wounds in his chassis. "Look at these! Any closer and you could have had a nasty case of spark shock, or worse, you could have—"

"First Aid!" Nightfall's exasperated cry was both a plea for mercy as it was laughter, and he brought First Aid up in a tight hug, stopping him from the rest of his diagnostics. "Hello! I've missed you too brother!"

The red and white mech sputtered, and after a moment, finally collapsed and returned Nightfall's hug. "Don't make fun of me," he said. "I was worried!"

Nightfall chuckled, nuzzling their helms briefly before pulling back. "I know. And I'm also telling you to quit your worrying because I'm not dying."

"Hey, wait a second, Bit Brain!"Nightfall yelped when he felt a wing get tugged as he was yanked back to Streetwise. "Look at this fragger! First Aid, if you ain't gonna be happy when you look at this! Check 'em out!"

A surprised squeak fell from his vocalizer before he could stop it when Streetwise grabbed the lateral edge of his wing and flattened it, effectively bending him slightly and sending his latter wing flipping upwards. The awkward motion was clearly a practiced position because of the ease at which Streetwise handled him, but it also put Nightfall in an awkward position that opened up his wings for First Aid's scrutiny.

"Sweet Cybertron—Nightflier, your wing! It—It's healed!" First Aid gaped in shock and wonder, vocalizer shaking. "That's wonderful! Fli-Ni, how in the world . . . ?"

"Long story," he said again, wings twitching as he wiggled against Streetwise. "Now lemme go! Quit manhandling me, Street!"

"Oh, don't lie, you like it!" Hot Spot boomed with a laugh, and the big mech hoisted Nightfall up by the waist, leaving the rest of the Autobots in the room with bemused expressions as the youngest brother of the bunch was picked on by the older. Nightfall flailed for a moment until Hot Spot had flipped him up in his arms like cradling a baby, and he pressed his cheek against Nightfall's. "Now, what was that lullaby you loved so much when you were little?" Before Nightfall could stop it, Hot Spot dropped into perfect Cybertronian-pitched singing. "Nickel, iron, cobalt, chrome! Hold me tender, fly me home—"

Nightfall flushed brightly, wriggling even more. "Hot Spot!" he hollered, hearing the chuckles in the room at the age-old nursery song. "Quit it! You're embarrassing me on purpose!"

He laughed. "And it's working like a charm!"

Hot Spot allowed Nightfall to squirm out of his grasp, and Nightfall rubbed his aching chassis absently as he narrowed his optics at the Protectobots that seemed to take the greatest pleasure in teasing him. "All right, now that we've properly humiliated Bit Brain, how about you guys tell me how in the world you got all the way out here. Last I heard, you were on Cybertron."

"Hey, let me explain this," Groove drawled, stepping up. "Well, when you disappeared off Cybertron with the rest of these fellas in that ground bridge, we of course had to investigate the area. Found a criminal amount of rubble, no living bots, so we marked the area and retreated back to a small hovel since there was a rust storm brewing." The blue and white mech rocked back on his heels comfortably, resting his servos on his hips. "Well, after waiting out the storm, we had to wait a bit more because lo and behold, we've got 'Cons digging through the wreckage."

Groove suddenly leaned forward, long face scrunching. "And wouldn't you know the mech that decides to show up, Fli-Ni? Of course it's gonna be ol' Cyclops acting like he just lives on Cybertron and jumps ship with the 'Cons wherever they went back to!" Groove threw up his white hands in exasperation, shaking his helm. "Well, after that, you wouldn't believe the hissy fits we Protectobots threw. I was so beside myself I could barely even get a word past my mouth, and you should have seen the way Blades started trashing the joint we were—"

"Groove," Hot Spot suddenly cut in through the slow-speaking bot's digression. "Stay on point or I'll tell all in one sentence."

He held up his servos in surrender. "Chill, Sir! I'm telling it quickly." Fixing his attention back on Nightfall who just rolled his optics, he continued to tell the story that would likely be summarized again with only a few sentences. "Well, since Cyclops left fresh tracks through the settling rust from the storm, we were finally able to easily find one of that mech's hideouts. Unfortunately, almost all we found of any use was a half-busted space bridge that had clearly overloaded by way of overriding the energon containment protocols."

Cliffjumper, on the other side of the room, blinked and glanced at Arcee. "Hey, wait a minute—we did that, didn't we?"

Groove shrugged. "It was a mess, really. Dilapidated; ramshackle at best. We had a helluva time trying to put it back together, but after some tinkering, we finally got her functional again."

"So you space bridged here," Nightfall interrupted, trying to cut through the rest of the story.

Groove waved a hand. "Well, our main problem was getting enough energon to actually manage to power the thing. We ended up depleting our stores just to power it up and took the Baby, y'know, just in case something went wrong and we got sent halfway across the galaxy and needed to get back home . . ."

Nightfall covered his mouth, choking on a laugh. "You guys did not ALL fit in the Baby." After all, it wasn't called the Baby for no reason. It was their only ship, so it naturally gained perks, but it was a two-bot ship.

A slow grin spread across Groove's face. "Blades wasn't happy First Aid had to sit on his lap." The bots shared a laugh at that while Blades grumbled, helicopter propellers twitching in irritation before Groove continued painfully slowly. "Well, the calculation was all my fault; I'll take the blame for that. We space bridged to the coordinates we found logged in the databanks of the space bridge . . ." He slowed down, glancing back over at Cliffjumper. He pointed a finger. "I think that was you again," he drawled. Cliffjumper just shrugged, and Groove returned that shrug, continuing, "Well, the energon calculation was all wrong. I thought we had enough to get us from point A to point B, but we ended up crashing the bridge again somewhere in this solar system, short of this dirty little Earth planet. We landed somewhere outside of Jupiter, so we got the Baby trucking on until we got close enough to Earth to see you guys, we naturally tried to join up in the fight, but well . . . It kinda blows that we missed out on all the fun."

Nightfall arched a brow at Groove. "So you found Shockwave's old, busted space bridge, fixed it, and space bridged here."

The laid-back mech considered this sentence and then nodded. "Well, yeah, I suppose you could put it like that."

Nightfall rolled his optics in exasperation along with Hot Spot, both knowing that Groove's slow-talk would never speed up to the pace at which a normal person would speak, but both respecting the mech for what he was and didn't pressure him to spit it out and instead let him talk since the danger was past. "Well," Nightfall said, shaking his head, "there's a bit too much to tell you guys right now, but, we'll start with the most pressing and important. First, I'd like you all to meet someone."

Walking over, Dreadwing looked up at him, and Nightfall's lips twitched up into a smile. "Guys," he said, extending his servo out to Dreadwing, "I want you to meet my father."

Simultaneously, blue optics widened and visors brightened. Hot Spot recovered quickest, and he gave a broad grin, saying, "That's great, Fli-Ni!" while First Aid just stared from the background, breathing, "Sweet Cybertron, why didn't I see the resemblance . . . ?"

Dreadwing stood shakily, aching from the blow Megatron had inflicted on him. He fixed solid blue optics on First Aid. "You are First Aid?" he asked for confirmation. The red and white mech nodded, put on the spot. Dreadwing then inclined his body in a shallow bow to him, ducking his helm to show humility as he professed, "Then, I must thank you for keeping my son alive when I could not. I am in your debt."

First Aid blushed slightly, stuttering, "W-Well, I would have done the same for anyone else . . ."

"Regardless."

Nightfall's smile faltered. "And . . . other good news . . . the last I knew, my sister was alive."

More stunned gaping. "Your sister?" First Aid cracked out. "But . . . how?"

Nightfall shook his head. "I'll explain later. But . . ." He glanced across the room. "Cliffjumper? Did you . . . ANYTHING?"

The red mechs lips pressed, and he shook his head.

Nightfall vented sharply, scrubbing his face. He couldn't just drop the fate of Cybertron to search for his sister. First thing first, his duty as a Prime called. He glanced over to Ratchet. "Then, I think it's about time we restored Cybertron."

Ratchet frowned then. "Nightfall, I was never able to learn Shockwave's side of the cyber matter equation. The amount loaded into the Omega Lock . . . It may be all we ever have, and Cybertron is a much larger planet than Earth."

Nightfall paused, because even before he could contemplate the answer, he was given the answer, a unanimous answer from the Primes in his spark. He tried not to sarcastically applaud them for agreeing on something for once. "Then, we'll launch it into the Well of All Sparks, directly into Cybertron's core."

Hot Spot's brows shot up. "Into the heart of Primus himself?" he exclaimed, aghast at what Nightfall was suggesting. "Who died and made you Prime?" At the stricken looks that swept around the room and the palpable change in air, Hot Spot blinked, and then the energon leeched from his cheeks. "Oh Primus." He lifted his servo, pressing it to the side of his helm. "Oh Primus. Oh Primus, I am so sorry." His blue optics swept the group again, looking for the only mech that would have been missing from the party and devastated when he couldn't find him. "Oh my Primus . . . Oh Primus . . ."

First Aid's lips trembled in awe. "Nightflier . . . You . . . You're PRIME?"

His wings fluttered nervously as the Protectobots stood shock still at the dump of information. "Yes," he said. "I'm . . . My name is Nightfall Prime. And I'm . . . Prime, since the passing of Optimus Prime."

First Aid's legs wobbled and collapsed, bringing him to his knees as he realized EXACTLY why his brother felt so different on the inside, and Nightfall felt his armor hinge up defensively. "Oh, get up!" he snapped a little peevishly at him. "I'm not something to be worshipped!"

First Aid stuttered as he shakily stood back to his peds. "I—I just . . . NIGHTFLIER . . . Nightfall. Nightfall Prime. Sweet Cybertron . . ."

Nightfall bit his lip. "Ultra Magnus, take us to the Well. Ratchet, come with me."

Ratchet seemed surprised, but he followed obediently. As he passed, Nightfall wrapped First Aid up in another hug, and silently told him through his spark, Listen to me. Nothing is changed between us when we are alone. I will always be simply little Nightflier when we are alone. Only in public will I ever be your Prime, and even then it is only a rank change. Please, keep our relationship as it is, based on who I am and not the rank I bear.

He let him go then, moving ahead to take Ratchet back to the Omega Lock's controls below. He felt the ship come to a stop before they made it back to the controls, and when they stood before it, Ratchet finally found his glossia.

"Nightfall, if I may ask . . . Why did you bring me here?"

Nightfall released a sighing vent. Turning towards the medic, Nightfall's lips tugged with a melancholy smile. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'dead men tell no tales'?"

Ratchet frowned. "It sounds like a human saying."

"It is," Nightfall said. "And, in regards to us, not entirely true." He put a servo on the edge of the Omega Lock's controls, wings fanning slowly. "I've heard a great deal about you Ratchet, from a mech that may know you better than you know yourself." He heard the medic's vents seize sharply on a silent gasp of air, pained in the memory of it all. "And I have to say, I agree with him as I extend you the last gift Optimus wanted you to have." Nightfall looked up into Ratchet's optics, letting him know from the depths of his soul that he meant his next words with all his spark. "Ratchet, do us the honor of bringing Cybertron back to life."

He watched the conflicting emotions chasing their way back and forth across Ratchet's features. Finally, he settled on a bewildered shock, stammering unconvincingly, "B-But I can't. That honor goes to the Prime. You."

Nightfall shook his head. "Not this time. Ratchet, you've given everything you had in the effort to fight for Cybertron's restoration. All your life. From a young mech just starting out as a field medic to the seasoned veteran you are now. And through all the pitfalls this life had to offer, you provided Optimus the one outlet he had from being Prime. Blood, sweat, energon . . . You shed them all fighting for Cybertron. And now, you are the mech that completed the Synthetic Energon formula that was the last piece of the puzzle to restore Cybertron. Therefore, I can think of no one more worthy to bring Cybertron back to life than you."

He took a step away from the Lock's controls. "Accept Optimus's last gift to you, Ratchet," he said softly, spark swelling with the compassion of the late Prime. "More than anything in the world, this is what he wants for you."

Ratchet's lips trembled for a brief moment before his mouth settled into a line. His impassioned optics settled on the controls to the Omega Lock, and Nightfall comfortably took a back seat as he watched the CMO square his shoulders and set his jaw, optics brimming with emotion as he stood before the great mechanism that would infuse Cybertron with life again. And both mechs, in the quiet, both knew at the same time that some things never truly died, whether they were deity . . . or, merely a mech.

With a last hesitation of his lifted hand, Ratchet's finger pressed the button, and the Omega Lock roared to life with a flash of glorious light that whited-out their optics.

The beam from the Omega Lock jettisoned out with primal force, powerful, and intense. The energy, fueled by a formula of life both Cybernucleic Acid and Synthetic Energon, shot into the yawning maw of the desolate Well of All Sparks, a beacon of hope and change. Every last drop was spent from the scientifically engineered Omega Lock, a feat only capable thanks to the Decepticons, created to uproot the corruption in the Senate. And the Autobots, the ones to fix the government as just, wielded the mechanism of life, the last Decepticon feat made for creation and not destruction, an ironic but fitting end to their broken way for ushering in change.

The glow started soft. It welled up from the deep channel of the Well, light bouncing up from the depths of the darkness and dancing up the sides until it ricocheted out with glints and gleams. The pure rays didn't stop at the Well. They spread, swelling wider than oceans as the power of creation took hold, breathing new life into Primus's body and the entire planet seemed to shift with the breath of life. The glow grew bright, almost glaring with its brilliance as it extended past the horizon and to the other side, the world a shining beacon through the black of space. The surface was incandescent with the light, a grim backdrop of the cruelties and despair war had wrought while sparkles of light rose up like the souls of the sparks shed, kissing Cybertron's devastated surface with the promise to restore her to her radiant glow not seen since the Golden Age.

The glow of life permeated through every part of Cybertron. It bounced between the crooked, broken buildings. It filtered through shattered windows and glinted off the sharp edges of jagged glass. It sank into the fissures and bleeding cracks of the metal surface, filling Cybertron with its essence. The dazzling gleam was awe-inspiring. The stunning sheen was majestic. The sublime grace was forgiving. The glorious beauty of it rocked the Autobots to their core.

A Prime wept for his brother that never saw the fruits of his labor.

"Ah, such luster!"

The moment was broken by the ill-placed words. Every optic and eye turned upon the one mech that no one had expected to show his face, and the mech crossed his arms, shrugging.

"What? I'm joining the winning team!"

Before anyone could properly jump on Knockout, Miko had done it for them, the young human using the extra strength of the Apex Armor to knock out Knockout cold.

Ultra Magnus touched his audio, pinging to his Prime, "Nightfall, we have Knockout."

"Keep him there," were the words nearly snarled back. "I need to have some words with him."

"Certainly." He glanced up, hearing a faint roar, and through the front of the ship, saw the distant form of Predaking fly off into the sunrise, the one dark smudge against the beauty of the scene. "The Predacon . . ."

"Let him go," was Nightfall's answer. "He did not fight against us. He is not our enemy."

Ultra Magnus's clawed servo clenched. "Of course."

"And Ultra Magnus?"

"Yes, Sir?"

There was the slightest smile in Nightfall's voice. "When we come back, Ratchet has a gift for you."

His brows puckered. "A gift?"

A muffled laugh. "I think it's about time you were lent a hand."

Pain . . .

So much pain . . .

She didn't think the Well of All Sparks would have had this much pain. But, perhaps she was in the Pit. The afterlife was a strange place. It swayed. It clutched. It breathed around her with the dying vents of the deceased. It was hot. It was cold. It shook and it stiffened. It was like riding a living being and being dragged to the bottom of an abyss.

Nightstalker's optics fluttered open. A second later, as her systems rebooted, they flickered, cutting on and off before a hazy, static-filled image began to process. Optics recalibrating, the image focused as the gleaming yellow symbol of a Predacon.

Her vents caught up with internal diagnostics. She coughed, hacking up energon and flushing the congealing heat from her burning hot systems, flecks of blue energon flying and staining the chassis in front of her. A servo held her, and the labored breaths she heard gusted across her helm, hot and pained.

Her seizing slowed as her systems registered massive damage to the upper left of her chassis. Blaster fire had rent the metal to glossy shreds that sparked and bled. Her body was still suffering shock as she quaked and nearly hyperventilated, optics flickering in agony.

That hand swung her tiny form up, and just when she thought she was going to be tossed, she was placed between two giant, folded wings. Her servos instinctively clutched his back, and she felt every last muscle beneath her bunch, flex, stretch and pull as he clutched the side of the NEMESIS, slowly heaving them both upwards.

His body trembled. That he had taken Megatron's fusion canon point blank and survived to tell the tale was legend in its own right. The two forsaken life forms clung to their tattered lives, one despairing and one simply lost and angered. Blazing yellow optics glowed like supernova suns, impressive with their passions, but deadened in the next instant; he was running from the flash but heading straight inside the blast of a grisly memory that had taken everything important in his life away.

The strength and power left inside his body rippled beneath Nightstalker as his claws gouged into the hull of the ship, anchoring them safely. But he climbed, and he did not have the strength needed. His hand dug into the ship, and he heaved, but his strength failed him, and they fell, hanging with only one hand to anchor them. Nightstalker's spark started, but a glow caught her optics.

She looked up first, and she trembled in awe as Cybertron awoke to a new day, and life infused it from the core out. The land was washed in the light of a new day, and the sunbeams gleamed against the beauty of a renewed Cybertron. Nightstalker's spark moved.

She had never seen Cybertron like this. She had never seen it so . . . beautiful.

Her vocalizer cracked open. "Predaking," she rasped, so hushed she almost didn't hear herself. "Look."

It took an effort. She could feel his shudder before he slowly lifted his helm to the light. And in it, she felt something different move in him as he took in the sunrise of a new day, a new hope, a new beginning as Cybertron's life began again. And though he had not been brought into this life naturally, Nightstalker knew it was hardly the circumstances of your birth that shaped who you were. It was what you did with the gift of life, and she hoped that he understood that as well. She hoped he understood that even if he was not naturally a part of this world, that he was still a part of it regardless.

Softly, she whispered, "You know . . . This could be your home, too."

For a minute, he didn't respond. Then, one of his large, clawed hands came up, and he gently grasped her small form bringing her before his optics.

"Why?"

She could see the confusion in his optics. He didn't understand, and it reminded her of how little life he had actually lived. He was practically a new spark, a child with the processing power of an adult. Her spark swelled, but . . . She wasn't quite sure either. Why could this be his home? It was a home for all Cybertronians.

"Why what?" she asked quietly, wanting to make sure she had the question right before she answered. After all, though he had saved her, he was still dangerous. He was a lethal killing machine. And she knew he did not hold the Autobots in high graces since they had been the ones to kill his brethren. And now, he had been betrayed by the Decepticons, possibly the closest thing he had to a family, and even that was twisted. He had been used, much like Nightstalker had been used, only in different ways.

Nightstalker watched his brows cinch in concentration of his thoughts. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face. "Why . . . did you . . . care?"

He said it as if it was impossible for anyone to care about him. Nightstalker felt her spark seizing. She bit her lip, feeling a suspicious lump in her throat. Hadn't she known that feeling all too well until she came to the Autobots? But no, even at that point in her life, she thought she had Megatron. She thought . . .

Predaking vented in frustration, lips slanting down. His lip curled slightly, showing a bit of his jagged denta. "You tried to help me. Why?"

Nightstalker felt her spark beating an uneven pattern in her chassis. Why, indeed? It had been instinct. Somehow, even though she knew so little about the mech, all she had known was the mad urge to protect the mech, even if it had been with her own life.

All his brothers, taken by the blinding flash of a grenade. A shiver chased its way up Nightstalker's spine. She knew that, too. Only, there were no miracles of joy for Predaking to know that perhaps his brother had miraculously survived the bomb. His brothers were dead. ALL of them.

Nightstalker's wings sagged. She lifted her orange optics to Predaking, looking directly at him as she said the only thing she could.

"Because I know what it's like to lose your family."

Those fathomless yellow optics stared into hers. He scrutinized her, and Nightstalker felt his gaze picking her apart, studying her, trying to learn what it was he couldn't understand. She wanted to put a word on it for him: compassion; empathy. She could. But she knew that he wanted to learn it on his own, and she let him.

"You are not like the others," Predaking finally grumbled. Nightstalker sat patiently in the palm of his hand, legs dangling over the edge at the mech that completely dwarfed her, a mech to which she only stood up to his knee. "Why?"

"Because the Decepticons used me too," she told him, holding her hand fast to her wound so she wouldn't bleed out.

A heavy gust of hot air blasted her front. Predaking's optics surveyed her critically, and he lifted his head, looking back towards the glowing horizon. For a moment, he just gazed beyond the wonders of the unknown, and then, he looked back at her, holding her as gently as if holding a butterfly.

"Will you come with me?"

Nightstalker's optics widened. There was more than just one question laced between those words. He was asking if she had other places she needed to be than with him. He was asking her to take a step into his life, to fill parts of him that had been crushed by others. He was asking her to teach him compassion, like Optimus had taught her compassion. He was asking her to trust him.

He wanted her with him, for whatever reason was his own.

Nightstalker felt her spark beat a little faster. She had to get back to Ratchet. She had been gone for too long. They had to be worried about her. They hadn't had any word from her. She couldn't reach them through her spark, and her systems were malfunctioning so much right now that she couldn't even force her comm. link to open up. She needed medical attention ASAP. She couldn't even fly back because her wing was crippled.

But as she looked into those broken, hating, devastated optics, Nightstalker knew she could only reply one thing.

She nodded.

"Yes."

A guttural grumble rose up out of his chassis. His claw brought her close to his chassis, and Nightstalker curled up, allowing him to pull her in and hide her, carrying her for transport. The sheer power at which the Predacon leapt, opened his wings and glided, and transformed, was astonishing to experience firsthand. Predaking roared, and the primal sound rocked around Nightstalker as he carried her off into the unknown, straight into the light of the morning sun.

What this next chapter of her life held, Nightstalker didn't know.

But for once, she stood on her own. She had cheated death twice this day. She had overcome things on her own. She had grown more when she was forced to rely on herself than she ever had falling back into the safety of the Autobots. Now, wounded and relying upon a beast who was just learning of his intelligence, Nightstalker was treading in the deep waters of the unknown.

She hoped Nightflier could forgive her for her chosen path. She hoped Cliffjumper would understand. She hoped Ratchet would also. She wasn't going to be gone forever. But somewhere, deep in her spark, she knew this was where she was needed. This was what she had to do. This was where she needed to go.

She prayed that she would know what to do when the time came. She wasn't certain, but she had a role model that had taught her so much. And if it was compassion that reached Nightstalker, it was compassion that would reach Predaking. No, it was more than just compassion. Optimus had shown her love. All the Autobots had shown her love. They had accepted her, regardless of the things she had done. And while accepting love had been hard for her, it was so very nourishing.

And now, Nightstalker had the chance to give that love back to someone else.