Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, just the plot and OCs.

This is late and I'm sorry. I am ready for this semester to be over, just a few more weeks though.

Anyway, thanks again you wonder readers and reviewers for sticking with me and this story. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 33

"Ha-ha! Yes, I told you. I win!" Smokescreen grinned while Outrider slapped a palm into his forehead with a groan before he went to fiddling around in his subspace looking for the last hard change he had on him. The sight of the smaller Praxian had the tri colored bounty hunter distracted from collecting his wager though as he turned his attention to the other mech. Lifting an optic ridge as he cast a surprised glance over his shoulder to the larger red mech standing beside him when Rider actually registered his brother wasn't in the mood for his prize just yet.

Because what the frag? Who the pit was this?

That look was written all over the smaller mech's faceplate when he stared back at the taller, heavier mech. Outrider could only shrug though as he stared at the gaping expression of the silver mech he'd known for most of his life that stood there staring back at them like he'd seen a ghost or something. In all reality, he sort of had. In a manner of speaking. It was the sit of Jazz that really did the most to Outrider's resolve for this moment in time. The grey Praxian could wait—Smokescreen could just get over his little flare of temper that he could feel building in the normally collected mech's field—they had bigger things to deal with right now.

Like convincing themselves this was still a good idea. Because now that Rider was standing here looking at his past staring back at him like he was something out of a broken memory or something. He wasn't so sure telling their damn master of a manager to suck it wouldn't have been the better option.

Jazz however, Jazz was seriously questioning his sanity at that moment in time. Staring in dumbfounded shock to the two that stood before him in the same easy and relaxed manner the two of them had always seemed to have. The two that were supposed to be dead!

The two who's fraggin' funerals he went too!

He helped buried empty tombs for these two. They were . . . gone.

He'd felt it.

He'd felt them gone.

But . . . .

Without even really thinking about it the saboteur opened his comm, picked the open channel, and started muttering without much clue of what he was saying.

"Ironhide . . . Optimus . . . umm everyone. . . you bots really need to get down here."

"So," Speaking up and jarring Jazz from his transmission Smokescreen brought his hand around, dumped the youngling into Outrider's suddenly fumbled out hand, ignored the glare that was shot his way from the one that did the fumbling, and pinned his optics on the other Praxian that was holding his limp brother up by his arms staring in confusion between the two of them, the mechling, and Jazz. "Who and what the frag are you?"

"Smokey," Rider rolled his optics. "Really?"

"Don't you really me. Praxus fell. What's this fool doing here?" Catching Prowler went unsaid, but Rider knew him well enough to know it was there. He also knew him well enough to know that pointing out that he was still fraggin' pissed at his 'family' and had no right to be mad about anything wouldn't be all that good of an idea. It would be better to let the swordmech's temper flare for now. He wouldn't do anything about it. Most likely anyway.

And they said he was the hothead.

Primus.

He was just the one that shot first; Smokey would complain his way to the pit and back when he felt he had been wronged in any manner of speaking. It was so fraggin' annoying. He was use to it. But still.

Then add onto that, what the slaggin' pit was he supposed to do with this little yellow thing that was now blinking up at him confused from his palm?

They really should have thought this out better.

"Jazz?" The silver grey Praxian mumbled as he shifted the limp form of Prowl that the other hadn't even glanced to yet up a little higher. "What's going on? Who are these mechs?"

Jazz couldn't answer him. He couldn't even answer the demands that were going on in his comm right now. He could only stand there dumbly blinking at the two ghosts that couldn't be ghost because they were holding Bumblebee.

Right?

"Smokescreen," The tri colored Praxian answered for him and Bluestreak's jaw about hit the floor. "I'm Smokescreen, the one and only. And this is Outrider. Now whether or not you know who that makes us I don't really care all that much. I'm not here for the likes of you. But you will answer me and tell me who the frag you are."

The young sniper was speechless, which was saying something, but that didn't really appease the bounty hunter any. His bright sky optics narrowed at the younger mech however he didn't get his answer because at that moment the towering form of the Prime rounded the corner at the end of the hall only to stop dead in his tracks making the femme as his side nearly fall over with her sisters in tow and Ratchet, Ironhide, Ultra Magnus, and Hot Rod had all come to see what it was Jazz had lost his charm about.

"Frag it, Jazz what the pit are you—" The gigantic weapons specialist never finished. A spark almost skidding to a stop in a chest tended to have that affect on bots though. That and making it could almost always make a frame almost fall out from under it's owner because his processor locked up for a nano to long on what was before him.

Those deep dark blue optics of his widen further than they might have ever done in the past when he caught and stalled on the image of the huge red and black force of a mech that was standing not more than twenty feet away from him. That and the shorter but no less processor jarring tri colored Praxian that stood beside him.

Because . . . it couldn't be.

Cobalt blue met stormy darkness, two shades that hadn't seen the other in a long, long time, but the emotion shinning in the lighter shade of pain was a bit lack luster. There was no real happiness there. No, not in Rider's optics for there was none in his chest.

Happy?

About being here?

No. That's not really the word he's use to describe what was in his chest at the moment. It is a powerful emotion bubbling inside him though and it grew even stronger when those cool orbs cut to the right to find a frame that stalled even him for a nano.

Mia?

The name almost left his mouth, before he clamped down hard on the whirl of joy inside his spark and shoved it back down. If he lost his head now they'd probably both end up dead. It didn't matter that the femme that raised him was supposed to be dead. He could assess that later after they either started shooting each other or something else came to pass.

"Ri-Rider?" The squeak that left his powerful brother wasn't all that becoming and it was enough to shake him from the path his processor was going down. His focus turned back to the massive ebony form before lifting his hand slightly to make the quiet little youngling in his palm wiggle with the motion and have to latch hold of his thumb to keep from falling over.

"So," The huge red warrior drawled in a tone that spoke more of boredom and anger than anything else. "I heard this belongs to you."

Bumblebee swaying in the offered palm seemed to snap everything back into relatively scary focus.

Cannons were warming before much more thought was given besides he needed to have his youngling back even if it was from this mech who looked like his brother, and sounded like his brother, and when he reached for a bond that was shriveled and cold it twitched for the first time in vorn like it could feel his brother. The sound only had a pair of optic ridges lifting high over the red mech's left optic—a familiar motion that almost made Hide hit the floor—as he snorted.

"Really?" Outrider huffed a laugh. "You're gonna cycle those cannons at me? Damn. Guess I should have seen that coming."

"Yeah," Smokescreen nodded, his optics narrowing and his fingers itching for the blades that swayed in their sheaths at his hips. He didn't reach for them though. He knew better. It was too soon, and he was too interested in this fool with his arms under his brothers. "You should have bet on it."

"Truth of the matter is though mechs, we didn't really come for any of you. We came for him." Said object of interest was bounced in the huge mech's hand which sent Bee to giggling and wasn't that an odd thing for the bounty hunters to hear. They shared a glance at the sound before optics landed back on those that had raised them, cared for them . . . left them. "Seems we have a lot to talk about though."

When the Prime unsteadily walked forward in something of a daze the mechling was handed over without so much as a peep of fuss. Neither hunter was all that worried about temporarily giving up their prize for now. It had been the plan all along, because while neither was happy to be here they had a job to do and a manager to appease.

Though deep down, in a part of both of them that they had long since been put away because it never did good to wish after things one couldn't have, there was a flare of something. Something that neither wanted to admit to. A glance was shared, a comm conversation they couldn't hear was ignored, a youngling was watched disappear down a hall while he watched them over a silver shoulder waving just before he was out of sight, and the two of them quietly broke paths one following one brother the other following another for something none on this ship probably saw coming this orn.

Ratchet couldn't stop looking at him, mainly because he wasn't dead but partly because he wasn't saying anything. Hadn't sense he trailed after the medic after he scooped the damn glitching SIC out of Bluestreak's arms. He couldn't help the scan that he ran over him, he couldn't help categorizing CNA, he couldn't help the mentally matching medical records that he'd never let himself forget even after he thought they were gone.

And they matched.

They . . . matched.

Maybe he should be a bit more surprised. Maybe he shouldn't believe what he was looking at, but then again one look left and there was a soft pink femme staring with wide optics to the mech leaning against the wall. If that wasn't proof enough that he'd been shocked before he didn't know what was.

He'd felt Cee leave him.

He'd believed her dead. Yet here she was.

Maybe it was shock.

Maybe it was coming to turns that there were things going on around here he didn't understand. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

But whatever it was he wanted those sky optics to be who they looked like. He wanted it with all his spark, but that didn't mean he wasn't weary. He'd seen a lot of weird things in this universe. He'd talked to bots that were supposed to be myths. Back from the dead though was a hard thing to swallow. He needed answer, they all did, but the brightly colored mech wasn't talking.

He was just staring at the mech that if this really was Smokey was his brother. Ratchet couldn't find it in himself to get mad about that.

So with a tug to Arcee's wrist he left. It was only a flimsy sheet that separated this mech and their SIC from the rest of the world and within his office he could monitor everything on the security feed. There was always the possibility that this was a trick or a trap. That this could be nothing more than a Frame Shaper—though those had been extinct for millions of vorns—it was getting to where now not much surprised him.

The truth was though. He didn't believe it was something bad. If he'd had the slightest doubt he'd not have allowed the mech anywhere near his friend let alone let Ironhide go of with the other one. Optimus wouldn't have allowed it either.

But that was Smokescreen, just like that was Outrider.

He just knew.

Like he'd know it was really Cee.

He couldn't feel them like he could her, a testament to just how much damage laid in the bonds between them, but then again after everything that happened he shouldn't be surprised.

The door lock chimed and the powerful mostly red mech fought the instinct that flared inside him to call up his weapons systems. Locked doors had come to mean very bad things in his processor, but he fought back the urge to snarl in favor of taking in the room he found himself in. It was a conference room of some sort. A long table and chairs, no window, no weapons, no other way out.

A good enough locked cage that wouldn't seem like a cage, but could be one all the same.

So his brother hadn't gone completely mental in his absence.

That did little to dim the darkness in his chest, but hey it was something.

He hadn't figured they'd simply take the youngling back and walk them to separate rooms, but then again the things he'd heard about the Autobots over the vorns he wasn't all that shocked.

A little surprised that it wasn't Prime standing across the room looking at him like a ghost, but then again he'd felt the cold link stir. He knew Ironhide knew it was really him.

Did that make it any easier?

No.

It did not.

Nor did the dark blue femme highlighted in white staring at him with wide optics, arms wrapped around her middle in a nervous gesture he hadn't seen in a long time. Now that, that actually hurt.

"Rider," She breathed lightly.

He fought back the urge to cringe while he mentally belittled himself. Get a grip you slaggin' glitch. Keep your processor.

"Hi Mia."

Now that got a choke in response, but it didn't come out of the femme.

"Hi Mia?!" It was almost a hiss. In truth though it was too pained to be a hiss and there was no real anger in those dark blue optics when the huge ebony mech suddenly stalked across the room and was then inches from Outrider's faceplate. The hunter fought off every instinct inside him to reach out and deck the other mech for the suddenness of the action. He managed to rein them back though as a heavy vent left him to keep himself still while his cobalt blue optics narrowed. "That's all you have to say!? HI MIA! I thought you were dead! I-I-I-I fraggin' buried an empty tomb you fraggin' bastard!"

The shove to his chest was not unexpected but it was pushing his poor grasp at patience. Outrider was not a mech with a long fuse. Not anymore.

However, the dark ball in the bottom of his spark wouldn't let him do more than narrow his optics to the ones before him.

"I know," He muttered.

Ironhide shoved him hard, but the hands that had smacked into his thick shoulders tightened hard enough to dent in an unconscious attempt to not let him out of his grasp now that he was there again. Because he was, the flare in a cold bond that was trying to uncurl, to reach, to be echoed, to be connected again was proof enough of that.

It was Rider.

No matter what the officer's processor was screaming at him that it couldn't be. That it had to be a trick.

Sparks didn't lie.

Not even when a bot wanted them too.

It was why even with the anger mixed with pain and fear swirling in the bottom of his tanks he fueled that bond, reaching and grasping for the other half. He was quickly shoved away via a harsh block over the cosmic field. The younger mech growled deep in his chest before he shoved the other hard sending Ironhide stumbling back across the room and into the long table.

"Knock that off!" He hissed to the stunned look in his brother's optics and bit down the tidal way that came up with it.

"Rid—"

"WHAT? You think you can just start poking around at old bonds or something!?" He seethed. "Well you can't! You leave that damn thing fraggin' alone!"

It was a stir of a doorwing that drew the bright optics of the hunter to the berth opposed to the machines beside it. The slightest flicker that most would have missed, but the hunter didn't make a sound. He just sat back in his chair keeping his wings high and tight behind him with a schooled blank look on his faceplate even if his optics were shining with things he couldn't hide.

A soft grown sort of whine echoed out of the elder Praxian's vocal processor as Prowl slowly felt his functional thought process come back to him with a long blink of his optics when they flashed on. There was hesitant moment in which those cool blue optics of his stared in confusion up at the medical bay ceiling trying to remember how it was he got here before it all came flooding back. His head turned right as if drawn by some unknown force and what he found there sitting in a chair leaned back against the wall with feet propped up against the berth was the image that he hadn't been able to believe in the hallway.

Smokescreen.

It was fraggin' Smokescreen.

For a moment the black and white mech lay there stunned, staring into a pair of optics he thought he'd have to die before he ever saw shine again. Yet there they were, and they were clouded with an emotion he didn't understand.

There was half a nano of being afraid this was a dream. Of that somehow this was his overworked processor playing tricks on him. Wishing for things he couldn't possibly have. But than an optic ridge rose, that chevron topped head tilted, and a voice that haunted his memories rose up.

"You really gotta stop looking at me like you're looking at a ghost. It annoying."

Prowl blinked one more long time before he pushed himself upright in the berth, weight rested back on his elbows because there was a part of his processor that was unsure if he had the capability to fully sit upright at the moment. With a disbelieving voice he mumbled.

"Smokey?"

A forced grin. "The one and only."

And didn't that jar the elder brother's memory like a slap to the face. Because how many times in his life had he heard that? How much had he wished to hear it again.

"You . . . I—" He swallowed hard. "I . . . you . . . died."

The bounty hunter tilted his head. His brother was stumbling over words? Huh. Well. That was something he hadn't heard in a very long time.

After all, this was Prowler.

Then again, he was dead by all accounts in this family. He wasn't surprised.

"Well no . . . technically I didn't. Considering I'm sitting here."

Prowl just stared at him.

Smokescreen fought the urge to fidget and the build of frustrated anger that came along with it.

And so they stared at each other. There in the quiet of a back corner of an empty med bay the SIC of the Autobots and the Bounty Hunter stationed out of the West Pits—the brothers—just stared at each other. For even if this had been his idea Smokey really hadn't thought all of this through.

The first peak inside was just supposed to be to see if the youngling really was real. They'd heard the proof, seen the pictures, but they'd wanted to see it. For themselves. That that old glitch wasn't sending them on another hunt to get them out of his way for a while—or try and keep them under Oblivion's radar. Honestly, he nor Rider really gave a damn about staying under that bastard's radar.

Smokey really wanted to put a bullet between his optics if he was being honest with himself but even he knew what he could and couldn't pull off. He was capable of quite a few 'dumb luck' missions as their manager called them—which was what this was—but taking out the Ring Master of the West Pit.

No.

Not him.

He wasn't going back into the area . . . he . . . he couldn't.

He'd die before he went back into one of those damn fights. Just as Rider would.

He wasn't sure how it was this little yellow thing that came waddling around a corner to them played into their manager's big plans, but somehow it did. Those plans were the reason he was here. Those plans were why he was sitting her staring into the optics of the mech he'd hid from all these vorns.

At least, that was the excuse he was hiding behind this time.

"What . . . ." Prowl took a breath before his cool optics filled with surprise and what wanted to be excitement but was too confused and narrowed. "Where the pit have you been!?"

The hunter's wings twitched behind him. "Pit on Cybertron."

But that wasn't anywhere along the lines that Prowl wanted to hear. He pushed himself upright fully his own wings flaring out behind him as his optics narrowed further leaving them to shine through tiny slits that Smokescreen did little more than straighten in his own chair at the sight of. His feet pulling off the berth and his arms crossing defensively over his chest.

The joy, the surprise, the bond trying to flare back to life between them was shoved down as hard as the younger mech could. Leaving the other to feel nothing but rejection.

"I thought . . . I thought you were dead! All this time! All these vorns! Do you have any idea what the pit I've . . . what you . . . I thought you were dead!"

The other just shrugged with a look in his optics that burned through the other's spark. "What are you so upset about? Doesn't look like it took you all that long to replace me."

Prowl reeled back like he'd been slapped. Optics and wings flaring wide as a broken sound rolled up through his chest. "What?" He all but squeaked.

That other bright red chevron tilted to the side as a sarcastic and angry smile curled up Smokescreen's lips. "That mech that caught you."

Then it was time for Prowl's optics to narrow back into harsh slits as a flare of his own anger bubbled up into his spark while his wings broad sided behind him raising steadily. "How dare you."

To that Smokescreen tilted his head a bit more as something between a sneer and a dark chuckle took him over. "How dare I, you say? Dear brother, you've no idea the things I've dared to do over the vorns now."

A growl rumbled in the powerful dark red mech's engine a few nanos longer before he clamped down on the sound and looked away from the startled look on the femme's faceplate and the shock on the ebony mech's. It was with a frustrated huff the hunter waved a hand in dismissal at those that had once been his family as he spun away and went to pacing. He didn't know what else to do.

He didn't sign up for this slag!

He was here for the damn mechling! He didn't want anything to do with the rest of them!

And he was going to go right on lying to himself about that thanks very much!

Strong digits pulling at his short audios horns he snarled out a snort shaking his head back and forth as the once locked up cold and forcibly forgotten empty link in his spark tried to uncurl and stretch back for the one that had offered it warmth again.

He felt like tearing the damn thing to pieces.

Who's brilliant idea was it again to come back? Because he was seriously thinking this was a damn stupid choice now.

"Leave the damn thing alone." He ground out once again, with another shake of him head trying to clear it. He just hadn't been expecting a growl to rise up in the other mech's chest, the shifting sounds of heavy armor moving too fast for the pattern in which it was linked together, and then suddenly a hand closed around his elbow, swung him around before he had time to register the movement, or the fist that caught him on the under side of the jaw.

The harsh snap of his head back from the hit was more of what sent him flailing backward than the hit. Ironhide really didn't hit him all that hard. It was the shock more than the force that he slammed into the wall because of. The recoil should have had him coming out of the slam swinging. His time as what he had become should have made the knife tucked away in his wrist come out to play, but no matter the time he'd spent in a walled in ring of pit, no matter the symbols under his armor, he couldn't bring himself to hit him back.

Snarling though?

That was fair game.

"Why you—"

"I thought you were DEAD!" Ironhide's bellow cut him off though. "DEAD! Do you hear me!? That job—that damn hunter, you . . . I thought I lost you too!" By that point the ebony mech had a hold of the other's thick shoulders again and was jarring him back and forth into the wall and away from it.

Rider let him.

He couldn't find the snarl back in his throat. He couldn't do more than look into those sparkling with energy and sorrow optics.

"WHERE THE SLAGGIN' PIT HAVE YOU BEEN!? WHERE—WHY—WHAT . . . DAMN IT YOU SLAGGIN' MECHLING! WHAT IN THE PIT!? YOU JUST SHOW BACK UP!? AFTER ALL THESE VORNS!? YOU STAND IN A DAMN HALL AND LOOK AT ME LIKE YOUR THEY MOST NORMAL THING IN THE FRAGGIN' UNIVERSE! A LOT OF SLAGGIN' WEIRD STUFF HAPPENS AROUND HERE YOU BASTARD BUT I LOST YOU AND—WHERE THE SLAGGIN' PIT HAVE YOU BEEN!?"

For a moment Outrider blinked after the last slam jarred him against the wall before Ironhide bowed his head and buried it into the cables of the younger tribal's neck. The tense up and catch of breath in his vents didn't go unnoted to the elder brother, but it didn't do more than make him wrap his arms tighter around the other mech and start squeezing the life out of him in a hug he never thought he'd have again.

It was the hug that did it.

Over four hundred vorns of pit, murder, lies, pain, and hiding and it was a primus damn hug that did it. It was a hug that broke Rider.

A nano of confused blinking over the black shoulder before slowly and shakily the red mech lifted his arms around the other, the appendages slowly tightening around the other's back, before a tremble had him burying his faceplate into the others thick neck cables with a soft whimper.

"I'm sorry." He choked, vorns of pain, fear, and denial rising up in one sad little sound that broke Ironhide's spark in half. "I'm sorry."

Prowl's spark shuttered at the look in those bright optics narrowed back at him. Shuttered in an ache that made the ball of life tremble in its casing, rolling and withering trying to extend the cold tendril of a broken bond to the one it could recognize but couldn't feel. For there was a wall there.

A wall of closed off emotions, memories, and reasons.

It was Smokey. There was no doubt about that fact. Prowl knew his younger brother when he looked at him. It was the spark he didn't truly know. Not anymore.

Deep down, buried behind something he didn't know what was, was the mechling that he'd raised, that he loved, but that mechling was buried deep and it didn't seemed he wanted to come out. Sitting there in the medical grade sheets he didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know how to react.

A part of him wanted to reach forward and pull the slightly smaller mech into his chest and hug him for all he was worth. The other part of him wanted to deck him though. Deck him and start screaming at him.

The Praxian did neither.

He just sat there in the berth, wings tight and optics sad gazing at the rigidly straight mech that sat there glaring back at him until a heavy breath left the elder brother.

"I could never replace you." Prowl muttered in a broken voice.

That did nothing to appease the burning in the younger's optics and spark though. "Is that so?"

"He's Bluestreak." Prowl responded. "He was my apprentice. He's the only one we were able to pull out of Praxus. He did not replace you. How could you even say that to me? How could you think that?"

"Pretty simply actually." Smokescreen shrugged. "You never did cope well. For Primus sake you still haven't gotten that glitch fixed."

Prowl's left wing twitched. "It can't be fixed."

Smokescreen's head tilted but he said nothing more on the subject because Prowl went on.

"I thought . . . Crosshairs said . . . ." The elder brother swallowed hard. "You died that night. On that damn patrol you promised me you wouldn't go on. You died! How Smokey . . . how are you here?"

The hunter shrugged. "I'm here because my manager ordered it of me. I'm alive because that bomb was a decoy." And with that he looked away. "Believe me Prowler; you don't want to know any more than that."

"I don't—what the frag do you mean I don't want to know any more than that!? It's been over four hundred vorns you fragger! Do you have any idea what it's been like thinking you were dead!?" And it was with that that the SIC's temper finally snapped. He flung himself up and out of the berth with a snarl from the deepest pitch in his chest however, Smokescreen did little more than lean back in his chair with his wings pulled tight behind him. Staring up into the burning depths of his brother's cold blue optics as they took to smoldering down at him.

His burned right back. "Couldn't have been any worse than the pit it was not being dead."

Fighting back the urge to punch the mech square in his faceplate Prowl bit hard into his bottom lip to keep his swiftly unraveling emotions under some manner of his slipping control when he continued trying to pretend his left optic wasn't twitching. "You better start explaining to me what the pit you are talking about, Smokescreen or I swear to Primus—"

He never got to finish.

For halfway though that second bit of snapping Smokey pushed himself to his feet, came faceplate to faceplate with his elder brother, narrow optics to narrow optics before he hooked his fingers into the invisible seam down the center of his chest and pulled his armor back reveling the nasty brand of scaring that lived in the protoform underneath.

Claws drumming against the armrest of the tall chair a pair of eerily yellow optics glowed in twisted humor at the scene unfolding before him. The echoing of hisses, snarls, shredding metal, screaming, and begging had a dark smile curved up at the corner of his scared lips. Shifting in his seat when a particular loud plea for mercy scratched through the air and into his audios he chuckled, leaning down to pull his palm up and rest his square jaw on the dangerously sharp weapons that were his claws. Gazing down from his chair he snickered darkly at the energon soaked mess that was his Wire Wolves and Static Hounds tearing into the pitiful excuse for a informant that was pleading, balling, and begging for his life as the huge canine like creatures ripped and tore into his hide.

"Mayhem! PLEASE! I swear I didn't tell them anything!"

The dark grey mech snorted a disbelieving sound before he dissolved into laughter when the dark purple and brown mech let out a scream as one of the larger Wire Wolves latched hold of his audio horns and went to tossing and shaking him around like the prey they viewed him as. He broke down into terrified screams and pleas again while Mayhem rolled his optics than rumbled out over the noise.

"Swindle," He chuckled. "Swindle, Swindle, Swindle. Mech when are you going to learn you can't lie to me?"

Another scream tore through the small mech's vocalizer when the wolf that had had a hold of his audio horn tore it lose with a quick backward snap that left the double talker withering and rolling clutching at his head as the rest of the canines took turns tearing into him.

It was when one of the hounds took to tearing at his arms covering his faceplate that the tall grey mech pushed himself to his peds, strolling down the stairs at the bottom of his chair that led to the little ditch of such before the wide ship navigation windows and screens that his pets had the blabbermouth withering around in pain in. Wadding through the mass of snarling bodies he latched hold of the one that was trying to tear into the mech's face, hooked his claws into its scruff, and tossed it backward into the mass ignoring the yelp when he did. With a bend at the waist he latched hold of the Con then pulled his leaking and battered frame up to have him whimpering and whining in his grasp as he swung there from his hand leaking in long flows of energon to the floor.

With a smirk that belonged more on a hungry canine than it did a mech he leaned close to the crying mech that cowered in his grip. "Are you going to go on lying to me, Swindle?"

The smaller mech rapidly shook his head back and forth.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

A rapid nod this time.

"Good," The larger mech purred before he let go and the other smacked hard into the grey floor of the ship. Swindle squeaked out in pain flinching away as the attack canines closed back in only for Mayhem to wave them away with a hiss. The mass shark back expecting a painful correction at any time, but Mayhem paid them little attention. He was too busy glaring down at the sniveling thing at his feet.

That and enjoying watching him leak.

It was time the little snitch learned that the only reason he was alive was because the hunter's sire was allowing it. Looming over the damaged mech Mayhem drawled on.

"Now than, since I've got your attention again. How about we start from the beginning, just what did you tell the slaggin' bastard's scout hounds about the bounty?"

Voice quivering the Decepticon shook in his armor staring up at him as he went to babbling. "I-I-I only told them where he was. Nothing else. I swear nothing else! That's all I know. Soundwave keeps all the rest of what Megatron had him dig up secret. I don't know anything else. I swear! I only showed them a picture. Only told them he belongs to that big cannon touting fool. I only told them because they were gonna kill me! They had dirt on me, okay!? I had to tell them!"

"Dirt on you?" Mayhem chuckled. "What dirt could they possibly have on you fragger that is worse than my sire and me?"

Swindle just trembled. "They—I—you see the way it—"

The flying claws that raked across the smaller mech's face that sent him tumbling backward did almost as much damage as the canines had. With a cry the Con went flying away again while Mayhem swung the other way with a hiss.

"Remember who the real hunters to fear in this universe are you piece of slag!" He snarled out in a dark tone dripping with the promise of threats before he swung to one of the attendants standing in the doorway of the bridge across the room. "Get the waste of space out of my sight!"

The drone came forward as it was called, picking up the whimpering mech and carrying him away as Mayhem stalked back to the huge expanses of reinforced glass that made up his view of the dark purple clouds the massive ship was hovering in. When the pathetic cries could no longer be heard echoing around the quiet ship the tall grey mech let out a heavy sigh. Claws raising to rub at his temples as he let out a groan for the headache that was forming behind his optics.

"Idiots," He growled. "I'm surrounded by fraggin' idiots."

One of the larger hounds among the many animals that had shrunk back around the darker corners of the bridge now that they had obviously been dismissed of their purpose dared to inch his way forward to come and sit quietly by his master. Mayhem hardly paid him any mind, but he didn't strike out at the hound either. Simply ignored him as he gazed out at the dark clouds around him.

This was troubling.

Very troubling indeed.

How exactly was he supposed to explain to his sire that not only had his rival's little pet projects beat him to the punch but that they were most likely welcome there with the object of their interests?

He couldn't explain this. Slag like this wasn't explained. It was failure and failure was something his sire met with plasma rounds through spark chambers.

No.

No he couldn't tell Lockdown yet, he'd figure something out. Those two pet projects were bound to screw up soon and when they did he would be there to take both the sparkling tale and the bounty.

Yes, that is just what he'd do.

And while he was at it he kill those two fraggers too. Three sonic-snips, one blaster shot.

It would work. He could make it work. He just had to time it right. They couldn't stay with the Autobots forever. They wouldn't. They were bounty hunters and there was a bounty to be collected as well as a manger to be appeased.

They'd have to take the little runt back to the pit soon, he knew he who ordered them hadn't sent them out without the orders to come home. When they broke the safety of those hidden ships, well then they were fair game.

You guys have no idea how happy I am that Rider and Smokey are back. :)

And there is another look at Mayhem. You all remember him?

Anyway, can't wait to see what you guys thought. See you next chapter!

-Jaycee

P.S. There is more fanart! *dances* Go check it out. It's on my profile and on the blog. Which is so much fun because of you guys by the way.