Disclaimer: Transformers isn't mine. However, the rest of this is.

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Chapter 29

Impatient fingers drummed against the arm of the chair that the regal looking blue and white mech had leaned back on its back legs with his feet rested, crossed at the ankles, on the table before him. It had taken longer than Mirage figured—he wasn't the only mech that hadn't been all that willing to let go once he got his femme back in his arms—but it seemed after three decacycles it was finally the time for the towering Prime to stand across a table from him and bob his jaw up and down like a damn idiot.

There were quite a few things that Raj could think of he'd rather be doing right now, far more entertaining things by far, but he bit his tongue against the sharp sarcastic retort that wanted out and let out a long suffering sigh.

"I don't know how to be any plainer, Optimus." He shrugged. "The bounty has been out for a while. I'm not sure how long, no mech would tell me, but it's stationed out of the Ring I was in. The Ring Master, Oblivion, let's just say he's very desperate to get his hands back on that little one right there."

His high bred blue optics drifted down to the recharging bundle of blankets that Elita had wrapped in her arms. The little bugger was cute, Raj had to give him that. Most of the times the spy had seen him since he'd gotten back however he'd been in recharge. He'd also been on a whole pit of a lot of meds since then too. His wings were formed now—had been for a far few orns now—and his systems were now clear leaving him with an open spark again. A spark that had been very interested in Mirage, but the spy had kept to himself. He wasn't all that sure he wanted to be brought into the little one's collection of bonds just yet.

He wasn't sure how long he was going to be allowed to stay.

"Desperate and yet scared of bots knowing it." He finished.

"He's scared of bots knowing he wants Bee and yet he's set a bounty that every low-life deserter and neutral from here to the other side of the galaxy knows about?" Ironhide growled.

"I didn't say the big glitch made a lot of sense." Mirage rolled his optics at the massive ebony mech. "I'm just telling you what I found out. Honestly, I think you're all missing a pretty big issue here. There is still a Gladiator Ring going on out there. A fully functional, bot gutting, Ring."

Prowl turned his optics to the Prime who was standing behind his mate with his arms crossed over his chest trying to keep himself from pacing. "I was under the impression that Megatron destroyed all the Rings."

"He did." Optimus' frown hardened. "Kaon's, Tyger Pax's, Altihex's, Hive City's he blew them all. Right after Ark 1 was shot down. It was one of the first things he did. The Rings might have been what gave him the following he needed, but he hated them all the same. He destroyed them all. At least . . . I thought he did."

"Are we even sure he knows about it?" Elita leaned back in her chair, careful not to wake the resting bundle in her arms, to meet her mate's gaze.

"She has a point." Jazz nodded. "Letting bounty hunters steal what he couldn't? That really doesn't sound like Mega-idiot."

"If Megatron doesn't know about them then who is running them?" Ratchet spoke up. "Is it this Oblivion?"

"Oblivion takes orders from higher up." Mirage shook his head. "I don't know who, no bot really liked chatting in there. The only thing I could dig up was the mech that runs it all is the Ring Emperor and the reason Oblivion is so desperate to have that little bundle of wires snuffed is because from what I heard the Ring Emperor thought he was dead when his carrier vanished. He wants him dead. Word had it that if Oblivion didn't turn up his greyed out form soon it is going to be his head on a pike in the middle of the arena floor. It's his neck that's on the line for the mechling still being alive. Apparently he was supposed to have killed him a long time ago. Somehow he screwed that up."

"Hold on a klick," Hot Rod leaned forward against the table resting his chin on his palm. "Mega-dork knows where Bee is. If he was in any way attached to all this than it would be easy for him to at least try and get his hands on Bee again. Hate to be the reminder but he pulled it off once. His pride won't let him think he can't do it again. If he wanted this Oblivion or the Ring Emperor to have Bee it wouldn't be that hard for him to take a stab at it again. He has the fire power to attack."

"Roddy has a point." Magnus crossed his arms leaning back in his chair. "Bounty hunters have never been Megatron's style."

"Why send somebot else to do the dirty work when he could tear the sparks out himself?" Jazz sneered.

"Megatron not having a part in it doesn't make this any less of a problem." Chromia drummed her fingers against the long table before them all. "What are we going to do about it?"

"What do we do about it?" Hide snorted. "We blow it to fraggin' pit!"

"I'm with Hide." Jazz flexed his claws. "Send me in. I'll make 'em wish they never heard nothin' about Lil' Bee."

Optimus turned his gaze back to the spy who'd risked his neck to bring back more than just the information they were discussing around this table. "Mirage? You met the mech, you were there, what do you think?"

"I think trying to blow that place up is a suicide mission." He admitted slowly, his own optics lowering with the admit of any kind of defeat. "That place nearly killed me. It nearly killed your mates. The only reason we got out is because that mech Dust created a distraction. For all we know they could have killed him for that. So that means my one contact in that place is most likely gone. Ask Scorn if you don't believe me, Prime. That place is a pit to get into and a pit to get out. And it's inside a mountain. We can't just send the jets to blow it off the planet. All you'll do is piss the bots that run it off, that and make them wonder what it is you're trying to kill them for when they haven't shown their faces to you. Unless you have something to hide."

"Attacking them would be like waving a giant flag saying 'look we've got the mechling'." Ultra Magnus sighed.

"But what about Slipknot and Flipswitch?" Roddy tilted his head. "They were bounty hunters. They tracked him to us."

"But that was a while ago." Prowl's left doorwing twitched. "There have been no more. Perhaps they just got lucky."

"And what are the odds of that?" Optimus asked.

Another twitch of a doorwing before a sigh. "Mediocre."

"So basically if we go and blow them up we're screwed and if we sit here and wait for them to track him down again we're screwed." Ratchet snarled low in his engine. "How typical."

"I'm not just going to sit around here and wait for some fragger to sneak in and try to take him again." Ironhide's dark blue optics turned to hold the narrowed ones of his friend that stood towering on the other side of the table. "You can't ask me to do that. Those fraggers got too damn close last time."

"Rushing blindly off to blow them all up isn't going to do us much good either, Hide." Magnus argued.

"Oh?" The WS grunted. "And what will do us good then, Magnus? He's talking about a functioning Ring. Are we going to ignore it?"

"No." Optimus shook his helm. "But it kept Mirage and the femmes under its talons for vorns. I'm not sending another spy in to get killed or worse. This is going to take some debating."

"I thought that was what we were doing." Mirage snorted.

"This is more like troubleshooting." Roddy snickered.

The noble's faceplate told just how unimpressed he was with the joke, but hey, at least somebot here was having fun.

"Be serious, Roddy." Magnus leveled a look at him.

"I am being serious." Roddy's expression hardened like the flip of a switch when he returned his gaze to his fellow commander. "You're all forgetting something very important is all this. This is Hive City he's talking about here. I grew up in that pit hole. I grew up with those glitches that tired to kill Bumblebee. I know bounty hunters. I know how they think. I . . . I almost was one. And I don't have to be the twins to tell you that trying to bust into a Ring is a bad idea. It took all Megatron had when the war started to level them and it seems he didn't do a good enough job because one of them, or maybe more for all we know, is still out there. Does that say anything about these fraggers?"

"No bot here has forgotten what you know about bounty hunters, Hot Rod." Optimus attempted to sooth the younger mech's ruffled feathers, but it seemed Magnus and this conversation hit that raw wire Roddy had never truly come to turns with. The same raw wire that had him drowning himself in highgrade for a few nights not a long while back.

Roddy put on a good show for his crew and for his faction, but there was another side to the easy going, brightly painted, upbeat, daring, and sometimes foolishly cocky young commander. It wasn't a side that said mech liked very much about himself either. That was why he hid it.

He wasn't foolish enough to believe that Optimus, and probably Magnus, didn't know it was there. Hot Rod was a commander of this army not just because despite his youth and common recklessness the mech had a hardened edge about him he knew how to put to use. Roddy could be serious—he could give Prowl a run for his credits if he really wanted too—but he hated the stiffened edges of himself.

He hated the calculated killer that he knew how to be.

There was a reason the young commander had run from Hive City when he'd had the chance. He didn't want to spend his life slaughtering for a profit. Yet look where he ended up. The Academy and all he'd done to keep his place there had served him no better than life on the streets would have.

It was a hard concept for him to deal with, and discussing bounty hunters wasn't helping his focus as of late, but the bright commander couldn't bow out gracefully from a meeting like this. This was when the flashy and fearless side of Hot Rod had to come out. This was when he had to be the lovable card that had earned his place among two mechs that were twice his age.

Only he was having issues keeping that face on at the moment.

"Then don't forget I want nothing to do with them." And with that those sky blue optics looked away.

Hot Rod was done with this conversation.

He was done with it all.

The way Optimus wouldn't meet his gaze only made the sickness in his tanks worse though.

Two mirror sets of vividly blue optics spun to the door when the both Ratchet and Arcee returned to the medical bay. A curious flash went through the soft pink femme's optics at the sight of the twins seated at a pair of barstools around the medics' main work bay. They were off shift early and it hadn't taken the returned femme long to find out that that was either very good or very bad. Neither one of them appeared to be damaged in anyway though, and Sunstreaker wasn't frowning anymore than normal. So it was a question of if they bored and looking for something to do or if they needed to talk so somebot they trusted. Which in the last few orns had become more than just the grumpy CMO that fixed them whether they liked it or not.

Then that mischievous grin that Sideswipe was so infamous for spread across the cheeky red mech's faceplate.

"How did it go?" He almost purred.

Sunstreaker shown a smirk of his own. "Do we get to go kill bastards now?"

Ratchet snorted with a shake of him helm trying to hide the grin the two fools caused him even if he knew they knew him well enough to know it and that there was no way in pit to hide any emotion from the laughing femme beside him.

"No mechs," She told them in that soft, even voice of hers as Ratchet went about cycling up some of their medical equipment not far from where the twins had planted themselves. Just because there hadn't been any shooting and dying recently didn't mean mechs weren't getting their foolish afts banged up now and again. That also didn't mean that there wasn't ever a time in which attack wasn't always coming. Megatron had been oddly quiet lately, true, that did not make this war something to push to the back of any processor though. There was still a fight to be had all around them, and with the now looming threat of the decision to wait and see what happened next in the regards of the bounty hunters Ratchet was not willing to wait until somebot was leaking out all over his bay to see if his tools were running to par.

Besides, it gave him something to do other than dwell on how utterly useless they all were again. In the short little term of Bumblebee's life—that had included the knowledge of those mysterious nut jobs that called themselves the Guild—it wasn't often the yellow and red mech ever found himself wishing Trickster would pop in again and grace them with his boundless knowledge of all that was Bumblebee. After Mirage had opened his mouth though there was nothing else the medic wanted at this moment.

The Rings were still active. There might be only one that they knew of, but Ratchet knew better than to hope that was all. The Autobots didn't get acts of Primus like that. No bot did anymore.

Primus abandon them all when the Sectors went down in flames. That was something Ratchet believed with his whole spark.

Then on top of the Rings, the mech that was running the one they knew about had sent out a bounty fit to buy a planet on their tiny mechling's head that no doubt had more than just those two glitches from the storage tunnels were going to be after.

And as if that wasn't bad enough then there was the lovely little detail of this Ring Emperor that Mirage couldn't seem to tell them a damn thing about. Not his name, not where he was, not what he looked like, not even how in the pit he knew Bumblebee was even his. This master of every dark thing still going on that wasn't under Megatron's hand was their adorable little sweetspark's real Sire.

Now didn't that leave a bad taste in this family's mouth?

"What do you mean 'no mechs'?" That smirk of Sides' fell off to a pout. "Mirage said glitches wanted Bee. Are we just gonna sit here and do nothing?"

"Apparently." Ratchet grumbled.

Sunstreaker snarled, dark optics flaring as he fought the urge to jump to his feet. "What the frag does that mean?"

"It means Optimus has decided we don't know enough to go chasing horror stories just yet." The CMO turned to face the more hotheaded of the two he viewed as his own. "And he's right mech. It took Mirage five vorns to get himself back out of there. We don't have those kind of resources to waste right now. Who would we send? Mirage, maybe along with you two, maybe Hide, or Hammer. Optimus can't go, Roddy can't, Magnus can't. We can't send a commander into a situation as blind as that. And Optimus has never viewed anybot as expendable. You know that."

"We're soldiers, Wrench." Sides argued. "Risking our lives on stupid missions is what we do. This is an army."

"Yes," Arcee spoke up again. "But we're a family too."

"How are we suppose to protect Half Pint if we just sit around and wait for the next fool that thinks they can take him from us to try his luck?" Sunstreaker bit. "We can't always let somebot else attack us first!"

"So you want to walk back into a Ring blind? Perhaps to never walk out again?" Ratchet straightened from his tinkering and turned his optics on the brothers who faulted at the words. "Mechs we don't know anything about this place. Cee, 'Lita, and Mia were there for over sixty vorns!"

"And I don't know a damn thing about the place." Arcee sighed as she put in. "I don't even remember the way out. Most of it was in flames by the time we were running."

"Mirage was there for over five vorns. He knows the layout sure, but he knows nothing other than the bounty and the mech that ordered it trying to keep himself alive against the anger of the main boss. A master spy learned nothing more than that. Think about that, Sunstreaker. For a moment calm down and think."

The golden mech relaxed back into his seat with a angry huff of his vents, but his optics had cooled along with his anger. Helplessness had never been an emotion that Sunny handled well, but he respected Ratchet far too much to ignore the logic to fuel his anger to hide his fear.

He didn't like it.

But the medic was right.

"I still don't like it." He huffed. "It's asking to be stabbed in the back."

"Maybe," Ratchet shrugged. "Maybe not."

"How is it a maybe not?" Sides tilted his black audio horn topped head.

"You really think Prowl wouldn't come up with some type of plan to handle this? I mean come on its Prowl."

"The moment Optimus said no to chasing after the Ring Prowl had a plan, just like Optimus knew he would." Arcee smiled.

"And what's the plan?" The brothers echoed together, not even minding when the shared thought came out aloud for they had grown use to being themselves around Ratchet, and Cee was even easier to let their guard down around.

"Another bounty hunter will come there is no doubt about that. With a price that high on him somebot else will try to see if they can find him. Prowl suggest we just allow them to come." Ratchet explained only to have the two mechs stare at him like he'd lost his mind.

Sides recovered first, but the only intelligent thing he knew to combat that statement with was a very drawn out. "What?"

Because really, how the pit was that a plan? That didn't sound like a plan to him. In fact it sounded like the exact opposite of a plan. Did Prowl really come up with that nonsense?

"He thinks it is best to wait and let the hunters come to us." Arcee added.

Sunstreaker—who at that present moment was debating how far he'd get if he marched himself down to Prowl's office and proceeded to tell him just what he thought of this plan—frowned deeply. "And how the pit is that going to do us any good?"

"Where is your head, Sunny?" Leaning back on the standing equipment behind him the medic crossed his arms. "Think. Where is the best place to have a battle that you can't avoid?"

The golden mech snorted.

A foolish question. He was a frontliner. That was like asking a scraplet how to eat protoform.

"Familiar ground."

The medic's only response was to lift his optic ridges with a glow in his optics that said he knew both mechs were smart enough to figure the rest out for themselves.

And they were.

They understood.

In a battle they didn't know the odds or the specifics of with an enemy that was even more so of both those things the best shot they had of keeping Bumblebee safe was to wall up in a place they knew like their own sparks with the mass of their numbers and wait for the first fool that would come sneaking in one night to try and take what belonged to them. Because the moment some glitch tried to snatch either of the mechs youngest brother again they were going to take at idiot's insides and put them on their outsides.

There would be no more packs of static-hounds running off in the middle of explosions and glitches putting swords through them.

No.

There would be no more of that.

Both the brothers' pride still stung from that disaster. Their idea to help had almost gotten their itty bitty Half Pint killed. It was not a fact either of them were going to let off their sparks for a long time. No matter how many times Ratchet smacked them lightly over the backs of their heads and told them to stop blaming themselves for thing they couldn't possibly have known would happen.

That however, did not mean they were keen on sitting around to wait for the entirety of what was left of their race not tied to a faction to slowly trickle in with the intentions of taking or killing Bumblebee while in the process would have no problem killing any of the rest of the twins' family that got in the way.

No, they did not like this plan one bit.

"You've come up with a lot of plans over the vorns that I haven't liked, Prowler." Jazz slumped even deeper into his pout as he glared at the datapad in his lap where he was perched on the bigger mech's desk beside the keyboard he was currently typing away at. "But this one takes the cake on the one I hate the most."

The maker of the hated plan didn't even look up from his rapid typing, his optics fixed not to the flashy silver mech on the corner of his desk, but on his monitor screen. "Do you want me to apologize?" He muttered absently. "Is that what you want, Jazz? Because I cannot apologize for logic."

"Oh you've never done anything like that before." The saboteur fought a growl. "Why would you start now?"

"I'm not." Now Prowl's fingers paused on the keyboard as his optics strayed to take in the side of his best friend. Jazz looked more dejected then he did the last time Optimus snatched Bumblebee from his grip with a frown when the silver mech had plans for 'spying lessons' with the youngling. And considering when the mechling was excluded from his fun the silver mech looked like somebot shot his nonexistent turbo-pup looking sadder that was quite a feat.

Unsure of what that meant of the shorter mech's mode he went on.

"It's just a fact, Jazz."

"It's a stupid fact." The other mech grumbled.

Now Prowl's optic ridges rose. "Reduced to name calling are we?"

That blue visor—darkened to a tent that never boded well for anybot—slid to him so that Jazz could regard him through the curve of the glass. "You and Prime should let me go."

The SIC huffed. "No."

"I'm the damn spy master of this whole faction!" Jazz exploded off the desk, the datapad that had been on the table cracking against the far wall, as he sprang to his feet in a snarling fit that left him pacing and pulling at his audio horns since the silver mech would never, ever, turn the skills that made him so deadly on any of his family.

Not again.

Never again.

"This is what I'm good for!" He ranted. "This is what I do better than anybot else! I'm the one that pulls off what nobot else can! I'm the one that—"

"Is reckless and what some might argue leaning a tad too much toward suicidal for anybot's good when you are as angry as you currently are."

Jazz froze mid-step as if Prowl had just pulled a gun on him and yanked back the trigger. He just stood there, gasping like a slime-eel out of mercury at his friend before his optics narrowed into slits, the weakening light behind his visor the only sign the other mech had of it since the glass was so dark now.

"Did you really just say that to me?"

And it was in that moment that Prowl realized his mistake. There had only ever been two bots on this planet that dared called Jazz suicidal, and those bots were dead.

Dead and gone because Jazz turned his tribe over to the Elite Guard . . . to Prowl.

Foxtrot and Shatterproof.

The only true good things besides his hounds that Jazz had had in his early life. The only things he regretted about the Sea of Rust besides the fact that it was not he who finally tore Supersonic's spark from it's chamber.

The doorwings on Prowl's back dropped quickly and tucked low with shame. "I'm sorry, Jazz."

The shorter mech turned her head away his optics glued to the far wall. "I'm too stubborn to die. You and Prime both should know that."

"We do."

"I'm also too damn skilled!"

"We know that as well."

"And if I say I can pull something off I can damn well pull it off! If Mirage and I went back there I'd kill this Oblivion glitch and I'd burn the whole place down. If there is no mech to pay the bounty than the hunters will lose interest. They'll leave Lil' Bee alone."

"And will you tell Quickfire, Jazz?" Prowl asked softly. "Will you tell the young femme that the mech she just got back, who she just bonded too, is leaving again? That we're sending him back to the place that almost killed him to do a thing that if he could pull off he'd have done himself."

Now to that Jazz took pause.

His gaze lowered to the floor as the truth of that statement set in. Fire was as much his family as she was everybot else's. He loved the little femme as much as the rest of them, and he knew just as well as all the others did just what Mirage and Quickfire had done.

The promise they'd made that could never be broken. A promise spoken and forged between their very sparks.

They'd sparkbonded.

Hardly an orn after Mirage stepped back on this ship.

And Fire had yet to stop glowing.

She was positively radiating happiness. It was infectious, as much as the rest of the bonds burning back to life. It made Jazz's spark happy. All this joy around him.

Bumblebee might be their brilliant source of light, but even the mechling could only do so much to the gloom of war and death that hung over all of them. It was good that he suddenly had a little bit of help. That also seemed to amuse him to no end just as much as it was buoyancy to all the rest of them.

Jazz knew the answer to the SIC's question.

Not even the duty to their war could make Jazz walk down to Fire's room and tell her he was taking her mate away from her again. Not this soon. Not after Mirage had sat in that chair before them all and admitted defeat. Something the noble had never done before.

That was not something to take lightly.

Above it all though Jazz knew the mech before him was right. The only real chance they had was to catch one of the hunters that worked for the Ring and make him spill his secrets was what Prowl was thinking. That meant waiting for the fight to come to them. No matter how much the action made him want to break things.

"I'm getting the information out of the one we catch my way." There was no room for argument in his tone, but Prowl hadn't planned on arguing in the first place. The ruthless side of the desert prince would probably be just what they all needed when the fight fell upon them again. Prowl only hoped his plan wasn't a mistake . . . that he wasn't going to get somebot killed.

In all honesty he was very curious.

He really was.

He just hadn't had the chance to really get a feel of the mech that was currently lounged in the rec room with Quickfire snuggled against his side talking quietly in the room full of laughing, joking, boasting, and winding down. This was what shift change always did to Bumblebee's magical little world. Those that didn't fall into their berths and recharge until somebot else woke them with threats of blasters ended up here in the common area of goofing off. Well that is those that didn't go to the shooting range.

But Bee wasn't allowed in the shooting range so at the moment—sneaking off from Grimlock last time hadn't set well with Prowl—he was currently sitting cross-legged in the big middle of a rather tall stool near the back of the room watching Mia kick Hammerdown's aft at C-ball while Hide laughed about it.

"Oh will you fraggin' mute it!?" Hammer growled under his breath as he leaned heavily on his game stick all the while he glared at the multiple colored balls that Mia was knocking into the pockets around the round table missing the in table obstacles with ease.

Bumblebee seriously had no idea how it was the game of C-ball actually worked—Side had enthusiastically attempted to explain it to him once but ten klicks in of rather blank stares and the red warrior gave up, telling him he'd try again when he was older—so he had no clue what the real rules or expectations of the game were. He did get that the players were supposed to avoid the hazards of the table—the trap doors, the mazes of walls, the different levels of table that took the balls around in circles as the middle of the table spun slowly all the time—while trying to get their set of twenty balls into the correctly numbered pockets first. From what Bee could see it wasn't something that was all that easy. Sure plenty of bots around here were good at it, but it was still a hard game.

Mia however, she made it look easy.

Easy enough that it drew a crowd to watch Hammer's sourly taken processes of defeat.

"Can't do it, mech." Hide chuckled some more as he leaned against the place Bee was sitting watching both the game his mate and sort-of little brother were playing as well as the little bundle of protoform and wires that was staring with riveted optics at the match while his pups lay lazily at the massive guardian's feet. "It's just too funny."

"It's not that funny!" Hammer snapped as Chromia sank another ball.

"I think it's that funny." Jumpwire snickered from across the room where he watched as he drank his dinner with First Aid.

"No bot asked you!" Hammer shouted over his shoulder.

Mia glanced up at the younger mech as she walked herself around the table looking for her next clean shot. The bulky warrior wouldn't get to go until she missed a checkpoint or a sink shot leaving him to simmer harmlessly as he waited for his turn hoping that she didn't knock all her balls in before he even got a turn.

"Oh relax, Hammer." Chromia smiled, placing herself before her next shot and leaning over the table pretending she didn't feel the warm pulse of emotion over her bond from Ironhide so that she wouldn't have to glare at him and explain that snippy argument to the mechling sitting at his hip level. "I've never won a game before without switching turns at least once."

"At least once, huh?" He glared harder. "I feel so much better now."

She just smiled some more.

"How the frag did I get suckered into this anyway?"

"Hey," Hide shrugged. "It's not her fault you were stupid enough to bet night-shift joors against her skills."

"I didn't know she had any skills!"

"So you were trying to sucker me?" She lifted an optic ridge.

"I have absolutely no memory of you ever playing C-Ball."

Her grin saddened a bit, but remained on her lips nonetheless as she eyed up her next shot. "Please. Gambling was not a example Rider or Smokey needed. I quit playing long before you came along, Hammer. It seems now though that this youngling I find myself with has already been exposed to more than a few unsavory pastimes. So I'm not really hurting anything am I?"

The glare in Hammer's optics died away then as a fond yet sad kind of smile of his own graced his lips as well as Hide's as the younger leaned a little more against his game stick. "It's not like we didn't pick it up on our own anyway is it?"

"Oh no, Smokey picked it up just fine on his own." She shook her head before slamming her shot. The glowing neon green number six ball took off across the table, jumped a trap fall, dodged a buzzer bounce wall, slide under a layer bridge, and smacked just short of the it's marked hole across the table when it banged into a rotating spiral disk. "Ah slag."

"Hey you missed!" Hammer all but bounced as he went to cheering. "That means it's my turn!"

"Primus will you ever grow up?" Ironhide grinned fondly, his optics leaving Hammer and resting on Bee when the mech's actions got the little mechling giggling happily as he watched.

Shooting over a grin Hammer lifted an optic ridge as he walked around the watching forms of Optimus and Elita as well as a few others to find a good shot on one of his own scattered at random balls.

"Never." He laughed. "I refuse."

"Figures." Mia rolled her optics as she settled herself on the other side of her mate with the mechling sitting on his chair between them watching the game.

"What can I say," He bent to line up his first go at the game. "I'm a sparked goof off. Besides, some bots around here has to remember to have some fun. Can't leave it all up to the mechling to keep us entertained now can we?"

An affectionate wink was shot Bee's way leaving him to giggle and smile that sparkling grin of his as he watched Hammer slam his own shot. The dizzily flashing red lights of the white eight ball went rocketing across the table, through the layer maze and came out on the other side rolling right into the pocket it belonged it.

"Made it!" Bee chirped happily as he bounced up and down in his seat.

Hammer smirked at the youngling's reaction to his small victory when he looked toward the femme that raised him as her own who was rolling her optics again, and yet grinning at him all the same as he went for his next shot.

Elita looked to Bumblebee with a quiet laugh as the large blue mech observed the table. "Just who are you rooting for, Bumblebee?"

His big baby blue optics blinked to her in a matter of nanos. His antennas flickered with amusement as he wiggled his doorwings behind him with the same emotion. However, the sudden motion of the—relative to his size—too big sets of wings off balanced him just enough in a chair without a back that it left him squeaking in fright as he went tumbling backward. Fear splashed through his spark as the notion of the floor being really hard flashed through his processor before a quick black hand snatched him out of the air and had him cradled against a strong protective chest before the vertigo of the sudden change of direction caught him.

"Whoa there, my mechling." Hide rumbled in that deep baritone of his as location caught back up with Bee and he clutched onto his sire's thick armor as if he was still gonna fall as he stared around him with wide optics. "You're alright." Hide assured him lifting his other hand to pet at the pinned in fear antennas as the thumb on the hand that was holding him rubbed softly at the area of his main backstrut between the pinned down sensory panels that matched his fear.

Scout and Echo barked from the floor, circling around Hide's feet at the feeling that Bee had accidentally shot through his bonds in those few nanos, but the WS ignored the pair of black hounds in favor to petting the mechling in his grip until he relaxed and realized he wasn't falling. Bee might wish he could fly but that didn't mean the little trouble maker was all that fond of the idea of falling.

Mia had stepped closer, having reacted the same time Ironhide did to their charge's tumble. She rested her gaming stick in one hand while reaching out to rub reassuringly at the little mechling as well until Bee was sure he was in a steady grip again.

"Note for the list." Chromia spoke softly. "No stools for Bee until he figures out this whole balance with doorwings thing."

"Noted." Optimus nodded as he relaxed back from where he and 'Lita both had reacted to the squeak and fear.

When his antennas and his wings stood back up Bee glanced around the room and found that everything had stopped. Even Mirage and Fire over on the couch had stopped being absorbed in each other while every optic was on him making sure he was okay.

He grinned.

His family rocked.

Letting out a content chirp he settled into the vast slabs of armor that made up Ironhide's chest and with the sound the room resumed its activities. Including Hammer going back to deciding his next shot. With all that underway again Bee decided he would answer 'Lita.

"Me pretty sure Hammer gonna lose—"

"HEY!" The big mech straightened in his shooting stance and shot a glare the youngling's way.

Bee went right on like he hadn't said a word though.

"—so me rooting for him so he feel less bad after Mia done kicking his aft."

That got half the room breaking down into cackles including Optimus and Elita, but it was the white and blue mech sitting on the couch throwing his head back and laughing to the ceiling that made Bee grin even wider.

He hadn't quite made out yet what the new mech felt about him. Scorn and the rest of the femmes all made their feelings very well known but this mech that had Fire looking so happy had hardly done more than glance at him a few times since his return. And then there was the little fact of this connection Bee could feel bubbling between them was strange and new.

Except that it wasn't all that strange to him now.

He knew what it was.

A sparkbond.

It was like what was between the returned femmes and his adopted sires. Only this thing between Fire and Mirage wasn't old. It was new.

Very new.

And Bee wasn't sure what to make of it.

He loved Fire. She was a lot of fun, always able to hold her own against the mechs that surrounded her in this world, but Mirage was a different story. Jazz had told him that Mirage had lived among his family for a long time. That he was a member of the family, but that Optimus sent him off on some kind of mission that no bot would tell him what was when Bee first came to be with them. From what the mechling understood he'd been gone so long that everybot thought he died.

Only he wasn't dead.

He was very much alive and had brought home others with him. Then apparently him and Fire had created a bond that Bee knew for a fact hadn't been in the femme's spark beforehand. He didn't know how or why and he wasn't sure how to ask yet. So he just watched among the laughter as Mirage kept on grinning while he turned his deep blue optics to Fire's as she gazed up at him with that now ever present smile of hers.

Yeah.

He was gonna have to figure this Mirage mech out.

A locked door leading to this mech was never a good thing. That was a fact the towering commander learned long ago. Not long after Optimus had walked up to him one cold winter morning and presented this shorter, far younger, far less conservative about polish, with—as far as Magnus was concerned—nothing regarding discipline mech to him and said.

"He's our new commander. Teach him."

And Ultra Magnus' world had grown one more headache.

He'd be the first to admit though that the headache had grown into something far less troublesome as he learned under his guidance. The slightly angry young mech that had been so desperate to prove himself had become a fine commander.

With a few quirks.

Quirks that Magnus had to admit he'd always been a bit fond of. Not that the larger mech was going to admit that to the cocky little glitch. Roddy really didn't need the ego boost. Except that after that meeting he was thinking perhaps he did need it. The darkness that had returned to those ever confident optics that sat across from him over that table hadn't set well in his spark.

Mainly because the last time the younger mech had walked past him with that glow in his optics he'd drank himself into a stupor. With all that was coming their way and no way to know when it was all going to go to pit again none of them really needed one of their commanders overcharged off his aft. That was the kind of foolishness they couldn't afford. It was a kind of foolishness that Hot Rod knew better than to engage in.

There was a part of Magnus that wanted to storm in there and knock the other over the back of the head and point him back to his duty. That look though . . . he knew a smack was the last thing his friend needed.

Taking a deep breath Magnus knocked his knuckles against the door.

He wasn't sure whether or not he expected an answer. In all honesty, he probably should not have. Hot Rod never did get very sociable when he wasn't happy with himself. He thought it was for the good of others that he hid away when he wasn't the cheeky, flashy commander that wasn't afraid of anything. He didn't often realize how much he was hurting himself when he locked himself away to debate the validity of his own emotions.

And it was not in Magnus' coding to let his friend charge himself into a night of self loathing. With a roll of his optics the large mech reached toward the key code beside the door. The override code beeped loudly in the empty hall before the slab of the door slid away. The dim darkness on the other side that greeted him was nothing compared to the stench of highgrade that whiffed into his olfactory sensors leaving the towering mech to snort and shake his head.

The spinning chair across the room from him was turned away to face the wall, but the glimmering bottle of highgrade that was hanging limply from the long bright red fingers over the arm of the chair was very visible.

And very empty.

Letting out a sigh the elder mech stepped into the room letting the door slide closed behind him. There wasn't even a twitch of that hand and for a moment Magnus was afraid he was already passed out. Then the fingers twitched and the chair twisted slightly before the bottle was yanked up as a low growl rumbled out.

"Doesn't a locked door paint a clear enough picture for you?"

So he was awake, and he wasn't in the mood for company.

"Friends don't lock doors on each other, Roddy." Magnus replied lowly, walking further into the room until he was around the desk and looking down at the bright sprawl of plating that was hugging the bottle to his chest like some kind of security blanket. Which it was.

Those bright optics were diluted with the numb of too much energy charged liquid, but it was the hurt in them shining through the darkness that made Magnus' own optics darken with pain as he watched the younger mech glance his way before pulling a youngling like frown, curling into a ball, and clutching the empty bottle.

"Roddy," He sighed.

"If you're gonna stand there do something useful and get another bottle." He mumbled in a slur that was clear only because Hot Rod was too cocky to sound as overcharge as he was at the moment.

"You don't need another bottle." Magnus shook his head kneeling down to try and pry the empty one out of the other mech's hand before the death grip he had on it left him with a shattered mess in his lap. However, telling the younger mech what he didn't need seemed to be the worst possible thing in the universe Magnus could have chosen to say at that point.

The bottle smacking him upside the head was almost as unexpected as the punch that came after it that sent him reeling back with a shocked snort. It didn't hurt. Not really. Roddy was far too drunk at that point to throw a decent punch, but it was enough a force of surprise to send him scrambling backward only to hit the wall behind him and stare down at the angry sneer and the coolant tear filled optics.

"DON'T YOU DARE FRAGGIN' TELL ME WHAT I NEED!"

Magnus leaned harder against the wall at the shock of the yell before he sagged at the tears brimming there.

"You have no say over what I do!" Roddy chocked on his forced back sobs, but he vibrated with anger before the taller mech all the same. Fist clenched at his sides and snarl in place. "I earned my place here! I'm fraggin' good enough! It doesn't slaggin' matter where I came from or what I knew of life! I earned my place among this faction and there isn't a damn one of you that can tell me what I can and can't do anymore! This is my ship! My crew! I EARNED IT!"

"I know that, Hot Rod." Magnus muttered quietly.

"Then leave me the frag alone!" He screamed so loud the forced back sob made its way out and left the smaller mech stumbling before he fell back to his chair. Curling in on himself, clutching at the sides of his head, Roddy started crying. Wet sob after wet sob until he was gasping and whimpering. Rocking back and forth with soft, scared sounds that left Magnus' spark breaking.

"Oh Roddy," He whispered stepping forward again until he was kneeling down again, but this time he didn't stop until his hands were on both sides of the chair his friend was shaking in. It wasn't what he wanted to do.

He wanted to take the younger mech into his arms and find away to convince him that it was all right. That no bot was blaming him for what was happening. That no bot thought he wasn't good enough for the place he was sitting.

But he knew the other wouldn't listen.

Not right now. And he honestly didn't need somebot to coddle him like a sparkling and assure him that the world was going to keep on spinning tomorrow. He wouldn't believe it. A mechling that grew up in the gutters of Hive City knew better than to believe something as false as that. So all Magnus could do for now was situation himself there on the floor, keeping himself and his field open and accepting until the bright red mech got himself together again and was willing to listen.

From the way Roddy was clutching his head Magnus knew he was probably in for a long night.

It took well heading toward dawn before those bright optics dared lift to him again.

By that time Magnus had given up the leaning close position—his back struts just wouldn't put up with it any longer—and took up a post sitting against the wall watching carefully as the other mech tried to rationalize with himself. He wished he'd known what to say. What to do. How to make it better. He didn't know though. The mech best known for his level head and sculpted speeches had no idea what to say to the one that had become his closest friend.

Long ago the duty of looking after the rambunctious young commander had become more of a partnership than a duty. When he'd grown to trust Roddy he'd learned there was much more than the indifferent, slightly pompous, exterior.

He'd learned it at a time much like this one.

When he'd found the other neck deep in his own insecurities trying to drink them away. It hadn't worked then and it wasn't working now. Though he knew no way of convincing the other of that. So instead of trying to reason with him he let him cope the only way he knew how until he was ready to talk about what was bothering him. However, Magnus had to admit that the words that came out he hadn't been expecting.

"You know the story of how I got into the Academy right?" Roddy questioned very suddenly in a monotone that Magnus found far more suited to himself than to the other.

"Something about you, Megatronus, and an unfortunate barrel of paint if I'm correct."

The words pulled a sad smile to the others lips as he crouched there holding his head staring at Magnus. "Something like that yeah."

"Optimus is quite fond of the story, as he is you." Magnus nodded. "I know it well. Why do you ask?"

"Because that isn't the whole story."

"It's not?"

"No."

"Than what is the whole story?"

"The one Optimus never told anybot else. The one only him and me know because we're the only ones left alive that knew about it. Well maybe Elita knows it. Considering she's his sparkmate and she's not dead now. I don't know really. No bot else knows though."

Magnus straightened in his seated position. "What are you talking about, Roddy?"

"I talking about the real reason Sentinel Prime let some half starved gutter scrap into his precious well bred society school."

"He let you in because you were intelligent and clever."

Hot Rod snorted as his optics lowered to the floor. "No. He let me in because I was sneaky and conniving. Not to mention I had a really good memory."

"A good memory of what?"

"Oh who my Sire is." Those bright blue orbs, usually so flamboyant and full of life were cold and depressed now as they held the gaze of the mech that seated on the floor in front of him was still over optic level with him. Magnus' own dark orbs widened slowly as he stared.

Hot Rod laughed.

"Oh come on, Magnus." The laugh was empty though. "Look at me. My optics, my colors. I don't look all that different from him."

Magnus' mouth moved but for a good while no sound came out until he managed to force out a choked squeak that was far from a sound that seemed to belong coming out of such a massive mech. "It can't be . . . ."

"Of course it can." Roddy shrugged. "I'm half Optimus' age. Do the math. That was long after Karma died. Besides, it's not like the hypocritical nobles didn't screw around in cities they thought themselves too mighty to go to all the time with bots they thought were too dirty to share air with. Bastard sparklings were conceived all the time."

"Are you saying that . . . ?"

"Sentinel Prime is my Sire which makes me Optimus' and Megatron's half brother. Yeah. I am."

You guys had to have known I had a plan for the whole Hot Rod to Rodimus thing didn't you?

Lol, well I did.

Can't wait to see what you thought about this chapter. It was edited quickly so hopefully I didn't miss too much.

-Jaycee