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

Enjoy. :)

Chapter 35

It was a very rare morning in which Optimus Prime was pacing beside a window cursing every damn thing under the sun, very rare indeed. However, it seemed this was going to be one of those rather rare mornings. Who could blame him though? There was a certain amount of freak out to be expected when one's best friends comm at about the same time of an ungodly breem of morning and inform one that one's sire tried to kill their brothers and pretty much succeeded in part.

As far as he was concerned he was a little bit justified in putting his office chair through the wall.

And the snarling.

And the clenching and unclenching of fists.

And the yelling.

And the leaning over the end of his desk now with his fingers curling grooves into the top while he snarled through clenched teeth down at the hard surface. Not seeing the empty desk but instead every bit of pain that he'd had to sit back and watch happen to those he loved over the last four hundred vorns. All because of . . . his own Sire.

He slammed his head down into the desk.

Because there was nothing that was going to make this better.

The mass of the huge red mech striped in thick lines of ebony sat on the end of the damn table of damn room he'd been suck in for almost half an orn now, but at least now it was quiet. Well quiet in the way that was more snarling weapons systems and pacing feet than anything else, but Outrider had spent too long in the bottoms of a pit circle to let such sounds bother him. It was true that he was pit fighter, was no solider, nor did he have any wish to become one, but he knew all too well a life of battle and pain. In so he had become accustom to such sounds. It was why he could sit there absently fiddling with the dagger that had slid out from its hidden position in his upper arm.

The blade that was still speckled with energon from their last job. He apparently had gotten himself too overcharged too quickly after they'd returned to the quarters the medic kept for them to bother with cleaning it. The quarters were the place the medic, Dust, called their home because he really did care in that strange way of his, but neither young hunter had been able to call anything home for a very long time. It had been a nice sentiment though and through it all Dust had always been kind to them in the only ways he knew how.

At the time being though Rider was not thinking of the medic nor his mate that took them in and saved their skins when they could have just thrown them to the wolves and let them die. The red mech often wondered over why, on the many nights he found that recharge would not come to him and he had no highgrade to offer help. The nights he sat up long hours staring into whatever darkness he found was his blanket for that night. There really wasn't much reason to question the things their manager did though. Figuring out Wardrums was a lot like trying to figure out why the sun and moons rose as they did.

It was pointless, and left one with an awful headache.

So he sat there, ignoring the growling and the pacing in favor of chipping away at the stain of blue on the short blade. He couldn't remember as he picked at the energon on the grey surface if it belonged to the mech in which he had ended by its point or if it was his own. His lower left arm still stung a bit, it was possible that he carved the mark on his own this time.

He'd been too drunk.

He couldn't remember.

Not that that was a new concept by any means. It wasn't often that Rider was all that much sober. In fact, he could actually really use a drink right about now. All this was hurting his head and his spark.

He wondered if Smokescreen had lit up yet.

Probably.

The bastard.

At least he got to keep his fixes on his frame, when he could afford them that is.

Rider licked his lips.

He really did need a Primus damn drink. Especially when Mia finally started talking.

"All this time," Her voice was hardly a whisper, but it was more than enough to pull Rider's attention. Even if he refused to look up from the blade he was picking at. "All this time. We could have been in the same damn place and I didn't have a clue."

Now that lifted Rider's head.

Cobalt blue optics narrowed when he found himself looking up into the femme's faceplate. "What are you talking about?"

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to how I'm here?" Mia tilted her head, a sad look in her optics.

"I figured you'd get around to saying something." He retorted. "After you both got done drilling me."

"I'm not drilling you!" Ironhide snapped from his pacing on the other side of the table.

"Sure feels like drilling." Rider muttered, sounding more like a youngling then he cared to admit.

"I just want to understand!" The elder brother snarled. "I want answers! I need them, Rider!"

"I gave them to you." Rider snapped back. "I told you the truth. What happened, why it happened. That is what is bothering you, brother, it's the fact that you can't change it. That nothing will fix it. Well that's because it won't."

"Stop this!" Mia yelled, hands balling into fist and then slamming down hard against her thighs bringing both mechs to a complete silence while their gazes locked on her. While she stood there with tears brimming in her optics.

Rider had never quite felt as ashamed of himself as he did in that moment.

"Stop it! Just stop it! Please!" Her fist banged again with each word into her plating her gaze lowering as she shook her head back and forth. A quiet sigh left Ironhide as he walked around the table that separated him from his mate and took the smaller femme into his arms. Chromia didn't fight him. No matter the show she put up for most bots. No matter that she truly was the trigger happy sister, the nitty-gritty one. She still had emotions.

That spark of hers knew just as much pain as every other one here—perhaps more—and it was bleeding out agony in every direction. It was more than enough reason for the powerful femme to burrow her faceplate into the strength of her mate's chest and cling to the thick planes of armor as his massive arms wrapped around her and he pressed his lips to the top of her head whispering soft things that didn't mean much of anything but hurt Outrider enough that he pushed himself off the table and walked to the other side of the room. Only stopping when he reached the wall that he suddenly slammed his fist into and then leaned against until his forehead rested there. Staring blankly at the light black surface at the slight reflection that shown back at him.

He swallowed hard, when the optics and faceplate staring back at him didn't seem like his own anymore.

Flex.

Relax.

Flex.

Relax.

Flex.

Relax.

Flex.

Relax.

Repeat.

Over and over and over again with his optics low the tri colored mech fought the urge to dip into his subspace. Showing that little habit of his wasn't really something he figured was all that good of an idea at present though. He had a feeling that that might be that last little shred of sanity breaking in his brother, and while he was still rather angry and hurt he didn't have any intention of hurting his brother back. He was a glitch, sure, but that didn't mean he had to act like one.

All the time that is.

Still, his fingers twitched for something to occupy themselves which was what was going on with all the flexing and relaxing of his digits as much as he found himself biting at his lip just to keep himself still. Inside he cursed the weakness. The need. The . . . crutch.

But Dustoff always said everybot had their own way of coping with pain and while for the longest time Smokey had sneered at him with as much hate as he could muster for the simple facts that the sort of medic couldn't change the truth of his new found life the Praxian had eventually come to terms with his fate. And the things he did to handle it.

What was the habit anyway?

It wasn't that bad.

Not compared to some things he'd seen, tired, and then kept away from all these vorns. Seriously, Cyber Narcotics and Syk were nasty slaggin' stuff. He couldn't lie that he'd enjoyed the effects, but the aftermath was not something he was willing to endure to have that blessed emptiness. It only took one time of waking up with no control over a frame that was too lethargic to listen to him under the glow of a plasma blaster to not be okay with truly losing control of all of himself.

He shook his head hard; he had other things to worry about at the moment.

Like the form of his elder brother standing there with his head in his hands mumbling about things that no longer mattered. Smokescreen resisted the urge to roll his optics.

This wasn't why he told the truth.

This wasn't even the reason he was here.

That didn't seem to matter to Prowler at the moment though. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself about the things he probably figured were all his fault. Which was and wasn't kinda true.

Smokescreen didn't have time for that though. Nor did he have time for the reflection that stared back at him from the mirror across the room. The shine in cold blue optics was not the least bit familiar though it was haunting.

He looked away from it, fighting the urge to dig into his subspace again. Not even the calming haze was worth it at the moment. He had bigger things to worry about. Like what the frag he was going to do now that he'd gotten himself into this mess.

"Prowler," He huffed, but he was ignored as the elder Praxian just kept on pacing around in circles.

Smokescreen rolled his optics.

"Prowler." He pressed again.

He was still ignored.

"Prowler will you stand still for a klick?"

And more being ignored as the other went on muttering to himself.

That was about all the tri colored mech could take though so it was with a huff he gave his optics another roll and headed for the door. It was that that got the others attention. Though he was halfway out of the medical bay before the fact that he was leaving seemed to register with the SIC.

Of course than Prowl was sprinting past Arcee who stood by and watched the younger mech walked right out the swishing doors.

"Smokey!" Prowl hollered, chasing after him, but Smokescreen didn't go far. He only made I to the end of the hall before the yell had him turning around with a nervous twitch in his wings and in his fingers.

"What?" He shrugged back as the slightly taller mech jogged the last few steps to him.

"Wh-where are you going?" Prowl skidded to a stop in front of him. Wings high in distress and optics darting up and down the hall as well as up and down his brother's frame.

"To do what I came here to do considering you have no interest in listening to me."

"I'm trying to listen to you." Prowl pleaded, on hand gripping at his faceplate while he shook his head. "I just . . . it's . . . how do you expect me to take this Smokey? How!? What am I suppose to say? What am I supposed to do!?"

By that point Arcee had followed the pair out of the medical bay and into the hallway. Watching through dim, concerned optics as the younger brother stared blankly back at the elder before he looked away with a snort and a shake of his head.

"You can't say anything, Prowler." He sighed. "I don't expect you to."

"You don't . . . what!?"

"I didn't come here to hash out things that can't be fixed, you idiot." Smokescreen's wings flared. "I didn't come here for you. I didn't come here so you could have your long lost brother back. You're brother is gone. He is dead! He is never coming back, do you understand me!? I'm not him anymore. He died in some cold dark hole waiting on his dear big brother to come and save him! Well guess what, you glitch, you didn't! And he's gone! I'm a bounty hunter now and that's all. I came here for a bounty and I'm not leaving without it."

With that Smokey went to turn away, intent on going to find Outrider, getting the little mechling, and getting off this damn ship so that he could go find his manger and punch him in the mouth. Seriously, this was all War's fault and Smokey was gonna hit him really, really hard. Only he didn't make it far because a hand snaked out and latched hold of his own yanking him back but it was with a feral hiss and a shove that Prowl found himself laying on his back on the floor with cold blue optics glaring down at him. Hands hovered over the hilts of blades in a twitching fashion as if they were trying not to grab hold of them and bury them in the pinned mech's chest.

Prowl stared with wide optics as Smokescreen growled down at him, breath strangling him and spark still. All he could do was stare though as Arcee's startled sound echoed around the hall and his sparkling brother looked down at him with a look that could shred armor from protoform. A look that had.

However, it was the low warning growl that burned up out of Smokescreen's throat that chilled Prowl to his core.

"Don't. Touch. Me. Don't you ever touch me!" He spit out each sound, then turned and walked away.

Rider felt the moment Smokey's temper shifted. Felt it enough that he bristled as he stood there glaring at his own reflection before he turned inward. Searching rabidly among the bond that burned between them Rider latched hold of the other's consciousness and this time instead of comms he flared the cosmic pathway between them and spoke.

"What are you doing?" The question had no bite. No argument or fire. It wouldn't do any good, not when the mech he considered brother had worked himself up like this.

The problem was Smokescreen wasn't responding.

On no.

He did the exact opposite of responding.

He slammed the link shut.

Hard and fast enough that it had Rider flinching visibly as he let out a gasp and his hand flew up to clench over his chest. Because, holy pit that hurt!

"Rider?" Mia's voice was distorted with tears, but he forced himself to ignore it as he pushed away from the wall rubbing at his chest and shaking his head.

"This is gonna have to wait." He muttered, heading for the door only to get there and realize it was lock. He let out a snarl before he knew what he was doing, banging a fist into the surface.

"Rider!" Hide snapped closing the distance between them and latching hold of him and pulling him back. It got the elder brother snarled at and shoved away before Outrider knew what he was doing. The stunned look on the ebony mech's faceplate had him looking away in another dosing of shame that he didn't have time for. So shaking his head again, trying to get some sense back, he ground out.

"Let me out of here, Hide."

"To do what?" He retorted once he got his balance back under him. "To go where?"

"To stop Smokescreen from killing somebot!" He hollered back, than he twisted to the door, transformation relays and weapons protocols firing as a cannon was called to life while he lifted his arm and then fired blowing the door out of the office.

Curled in a pile of pups in the warm lap of one his most favorite mechs Bee was purring contently. If for no other reason than it seemed to have calmed Jazz down. The strong silver mech had been a ball of nervous energy all night and now that the sun was rising again it only really seemed to have gotten better because he had Bee in his lap and was petting absently at the flicking antennas atop his head.

Bee didn't mind.

He had dozed on an off through the night, woken every now and again by a strange feeling among his bonds, Jazz making a noise, or Scout growling at the mech to be still. He hadn't gotten all that much recharge, but it was enough that the crankiness of going without it had never set in.

At present the little mechling was floating somewhere between wakefulness and recharge, but when a curious pulse rang through his spark baby blue optics flashed open. The pups and Jazz didn't seem to notice if the content purring on both his sides and the petting of his antennas was anything to go by. Bee noticed though.

Oh yes did he notice.

He noticed very much.

Turn around he peaked up at the dim visor that stared blankly across the room. Lost in his own processor thinking about something or another that Bee figured he probably wouldn't understand. He wasn't worrying about that right now. He was more concerned with the strange feeling in his chest.

"Jazzy?"

For a moment there was no response. The saboteur just went on staring across the room. When the pups curiously lifted their heads to stare up at the mech as well he still seemed lost in his own little world. It wasn't until Bumblebee started poking him in the middle that the mech finally looked down to find those big optics staring up at him.

"Bee?"

"Listen now?" He asked with a smile.

Jazz gave a chuckle. "Yeah, sorry mechling. Got a little lost in my own head there for a klick. What do ya need little one?"

"Feel somebot."

And Jazz straightened like he'd been struck.

"What?" He questioned, plucking the mechling up and bringing him closer to his optics.

Bee went without fuse and when he was perched in Jazz's hand he chirped tapping a finger to his chest. "Feel somebot. Just now."

"Felt who?"

Bee shrugged.

He wasn't even sure if it was on the ship, but it felt like something. Somebot.

He didn't know who though. He'd never felt this spark before and he wasn't sure if feeling it now was a good thing or not.

It seemed he got Jazz's wheels spinning though because it wasn't a few moments later that the silver mech pushed himself up, letting the pups follow after him as he made for the hall with the youngling curled against his chest.

"Come on, Lil' Bee, we've been left out long enough."

He was seething.

Absolutely seething.

There was no other way to describe the boil in his energon and the coldness in his chest. By Primus he wanted to fraggin' punch something. Or shot something. Or stab something.

Or maybe somebot.

Yeah.

Somebot sounded good about right now.

That might make him feel a little better. Maybe at least in the concept that his plating was absolutely crawling leaving him shaking out his whole frame as he walked. Plating rattling against protoform hard enough that he could feel some places bruising as he kept flinging his arms and rolling his shoulders.

Smokey couldn't help it though.

A dirty feeling had crept under his armor from one too many times of having no say and while he knew Prowl was not all those glitches it didn't matter at that point. He was too worked up, too stressed, and far too much in need of his nerves relaxer. That was the reason for the tri colored Praxian digging into his subspace as he rounded another corner at a fast strut. Pulling out a black box he quickly keyed in the pass code for the key pad at the top of the box. With a hiss the lid snapped back and he was left looking down at a pile of long silver cy-gars. Ignoring the tremors going on in his muscles the hunter snatched up one than shut the lid back and threw the whole box back into subspace. With the pulled cy-gar between his fingers Smokey snapped the very end, darkened to black with the char they all had, off letting the thing light itself as he brought it to his lips.

One deep drag.

Two.

Three.

And then a cold burn settled through his inner ventilations systems—the Cybertronian equivalent of lungs—the smoke and char and chemicals swirling around while he held it. It actually had him slowing to a stop as he stood there in the hall letting the chemicals burn their ice into him almost as if they chilled the very tremors out of him. His frame stopped shaking, his plating relaxing down, and he let the building anger go as simply as he blew the cloud of grey back out in front of his faceplate.

A tired sigh followed it while he rolled his shoulders one last time then took a few steps over to the hall wall and leaned back. Lifting the cy-gar to his lips again he closed his optics taking another drag letting the cold burn roll through him before he puffed it back out. Resting his head back against the dark tile he slowly opened his optics back up when the sound of heavy footsteps reached his audios.

Even with the cooling to his nervous system he fought the urge to prickle, that is until he recognized the sound of those steps. They were steps he'd known anywhere. That was why he leaned his head back against the wall, letting he hand holding his cy-gar fall down to rest around his hip and waited for the big mech to turn the corner.

It was only a few breaths until that happened as well. One moment there was nothing, then there was Outrider. Striding to a stop when those cobalt blue optics found the bright mech leaning there with blowing a cloud of smoke from between his lips.

Rider let out a snort of a sigh as he leaned back on one foot crossing his arms over his chest.

"Seriously?" He lifted an optic ridge.

"What?" Smokescreen snapped back.

Outrider rolled his optics, watching as Smokescreen took another drag of his cy-gar. "You said you weren't going to light up."

"Oh go find some highgrade and get over it." The Praxian huffed, listening as steps follow on each side. It appeared Rider could hear it as well because the huge warrior tilted his head back the way he had come letting a sigh rattle through his frame.

"You really want to deal with explaining that on top of everything else?" He asked quietly, optics drifting back to his brother. The mech who between the two of them they had managed to keep themselves alive because of. The brother he knew very well hated that coping mechanism just as much as he hated watching Rider drink himself stupid along with the things he carved into his protoform with or without Dust there to make sure he didn't seriously damage himself.

Did that stop Rider from doing it?

No.

Just as Smokey hating needing something to calm his triggers didn't stop him from lighting up. No he didn't stop. If anything he was getting worse.

Not that Rider had any room to talk on that front.

He was getting worse as well.

"I'm done explaining."

Rider snorted. "Did you actually do any explaining?"

Smokey smacked over his chest, to the scars that lay under the armor. "Yes!"

Rider huffed. "Yeah, me too. Didn't figure it was going to hurt this much."

Lifting the cy-gar to his lips again Smokey took another puff than blew out another cloud. He wouldn't meet his chosen brother's optics while he sighed. "We were stupid to come here. What the pit is this going to fix? What is it going to help? Why did he send us here?"

"Because he wants the mechling." Rider shrugged, closing the distance between them as the hurried steps down each ends of the hall got louder. Those they ditched would get here in another manner of nanos and he was no more ready to face them then he had been when the mechling found them.

Smokescreen's expression hardened as the other mech leaned sideways against the wall next to him. "We're going to have to take him away."

Outrider let out a tired breath. "So we are."

It was just about then that Ironhide, Chromia, Optimus, Ratchet, and Elita came hurrying around the corner that had brought Outrider here and on the other side of the hall Prowl and Arcee appeared. Neither hunter did much of anything about it though.

Rider simply glanced sidelong at them all while his crossed arms and heavy shoulders held him up against the wall. Smokey on the other hand let his gaze lock on his brother's with his cy-gar resting between his lips held there by his fingers. He took another long drag, relishing in the cool burn of chemicals in his inner systems, watching Prowl's optics widened in shock and then harden as he let the cloud lazily roll back out over his lips when he pulled the grey cy-gar away again.

For a klick or two there was silence.

It seemed none of the Autobots were quite able to break the tension that suddenly bloomed to life between the two doorwinged brothers that gazed across the empty hall at each other. It didn't truly bother either of the hunters, they'd been living in pit for so long it was nothing new to them. What did bother them was the simple fact that they too weren't all that sure what to say.

They'd told the truth, yet it didn't change anything. They knew it wouldn't and yet all those around them seemed to expect so big happy revelation to follow them prancing back into their lives.

They were wrong.

Then finally Prowl's wings hiked high up behind his shoulder, his gaze narrowed, and a low growling tone worked its way out of his chest as he glared at his sparkling brother.

"What the pit are you fraggin' doing?" His voice didn't raise, and that might have made it all that much more worse. The cold tone drifting over audios like claws down slate. However, if it effected Smokescreen it was damn hard to tell.

For he let out an equally cold chuckle and shrugged. "Coping with your idiocy. Got a problem with that?"

And he lifted the cy-gar back to his lips taking another drag.

"Jazzy?" Bee chirped. "Where we going?"

Jazz, who had the mechling perched atop his shoulder holding tightly to his neck and audio horn, took a moment to answer as he and the pups walked quickly down the halls of the ship heading some direction. It was true that Bumblebee knew every inch of his battleship home like he knew his own plating. He could navigate the many halls, floors, rooms, and hangers with his optics closed but that didn't mean he always knew what his caretakers were up to. They were somewhere on the third level of the ship and Jazz's confident strides were taking them somewhere.

Scout and Echo didn't really appear to be minding the trip any as they padded on along swiftly at Jazz's feet. Their sleek black armor shining against the dark halls and flashing under the lights. Tall audios pointed and perked for any sounds and such that were going on.

It was strangely quiet though.

Normally when one walked the halls of Eternity there were many a bot to come across. It was only when Bee was being sneaky that the halls could seem empty though that was only the case because he knew how to sneak around all the many residents. However, his escort for the morning was the master of sneak and for some reason Jazz didn't look as if he wanted to come across any others. Not that Bee was all that sure of why. Nor did he know how to ask to find out.

Jazz loved others.

Others loved Jazz.

The happiness the silver mech could create was legendary.

He just seemed to be a whole lot of nervous energy right now. Even if he was trying to keep it hid and not let the energy in his spark slid through the bond to the little mechling that fed off of everything and everybot around him.

"At the moment we're wondering, Lil' Bee." Jazz answered in a distracted manner.

Bee tilted his little head. "Why?"

"Mostly because I'm not sure what to do." Jazz admitted.

"Not sure?" Bumblebee repeated. "Why not sure? What not sure about?"

"If we should go add in our opinions, little mech."

Bee mouthed those words before he repeated them. "Give opinions? About what?"

"Our guests." Jazz explained while they rounded another hall.

Oh, yes, Rider and Smokey. Bee wasn't sure what to make of that yet. Mainly because no bot had bothered to tell him much yet. He figured there was probably a reason for that, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. However, he was waiting. Something inside him told him to.

"What gonna happen, Jazzy?" He asked, leaning against the silver mech's audio horn as they walked.

A sigh rattled through the mech. "I'm not sure, Bee. I don't know what they're talking about. I don't know what happened. I won't until they deem it fit that you can come and say hi."

"Me can't say hi?" Bee muttered.

Jazz slightly shook his head, careful not to jostle the little mechling too much. "Not until some things are figured out, Bee."

"Not think Smokey and Rider mean harm." Bee argued. "If meant harm would have done harm before you all came found me."

"I don't want to believe they mean any either, Bee, but . . . ." But there were still too many unknown factors. Too much that could go wrong. "We're just gonna have to wait and see."

"But you said we been left out long enough." Bee put in.

"Yeah I know," Jazz sighed. "But I got a feeling."

"Feeling?" Bee repeated. "Feeling like me feeling?"

"I guess." Jazz shrugged, at this point even he didn't know what he was doing. "You still think you feel somebot?"

That was something Bumblebee was pondering. Because he wasn't so sure anymore. He thought before that he had felt something but now that they were wondering the halls he wasn't so sure anymore. It was confusing. Then again, he'd kind of stopped wondering over it.

'Cuz he was hungry.

"Not really. Think maybe it just them. Jazzy?"

"Yeah?" Jazz arched an optic ridge over his visor.

"Me hungry."

Jazz paused mid-step causing the pups to sort of skid around him only to tip their gazes up to the silver mech as he twisted just enough to glance sidelong at the mechling. "You probably are aren't you? Did you eat dinner last night?"

Bee shook his head.

"Then it's off the feed the mechling." Jazz altered paths and headed toward the rec room.

Bee giggled at the choice of words.

With a dark chuckle Smokescreen turned his attention to the others, or more accurately the towering Prime that stared down at the shorter mech. Puffing out another cloud of smoke the Praxian let a sharp smirk curl up his lips at the guilt he could see swimming in those deep blue pools. The look on the other's faceplate had Outrider turning fully so that he too could take in the powerful commander. It was Smokescreen that sneered at him though.

"Well if it isn't Optimus Prime," He taunted. "Did they tell you yet that ya dear sire killed me?"

Optimus flinched.

Hard.

Hard enough his plating rattled.

"I'll take that as a yes." Smokey snorted, lifting the cy-gar back to his lips, but the cool feeling was swirling in his chest now. The edge had been taken off his tremors and his grasp over his emotions was slipping back into his hold. He hated it, but at the moment he needed it.

"Smokescreen," Prowl stepped forward, but the younger brother cut him off.

"Stop." He bit, lowering the cy-gar again. "Just stop. I don't need your lecture. I don't need your apologize or your reasons." He cut those cold optics to Optimus. "There is nothing that any of you can say to fix any of it. It is what it is."

"We accepted that a long time ago." Outrider added. "And we don't need your spark felt pleading to make us feel better."

"We are what we are now." Smokescreen shrugged. "Get over it."

"Because like it or not it's the truth." Rider snorted. "And not something any of you can change."

"Oh really?" Ratchet crossed his arms, glaring at the pair of them, but mostly the drug the smaller was flaunting. "You have obviously forgot just who the frag all of us are."

Rider smirked dangerously. "You think? I think you'd be surprised just what all that took."

"All this time you've both been alive and you never came back." Ratchet knew it was an argument that they had gone through now, but he couldn't help it. He just couldn't' believe it. The femmes had had no choice. They'd been locked in a cage in the bottom of a Ring pit.

These two?

They'd hadn't even vanished at the same time.

How was it they found each other?

How was it that neither of them came back!?

Smokescreen narrowed his optics into a glare, and repeated the argument they'd had sense they got here. "We didn't have much of a choice."

"And you don't have a choice now?" Prowl suddenly barked. "You're here, damn it! You're here! And yet you act like it's pit! We're sorry, alright! I know that's not enough, but I don't know what else to say to you, Smokescreen. I don't know! Okay? Just tell me what I've got to say! I'm begging you here! I thought you were dead! And damn it, I don't care. I don't care what you've done or where you been! You're here, so why can't you just be home? Why can't you just—"

"Stay?" Smokescreen cut him off with a snap, but the anger was replaced by something else. Now in its place was a cold sadness that not even the vorns of training with Wardrums could hide. "Because we can't, Prowler. We . . . can't."

"It's not a choice." Rider stressed, trying to make them see for reasons even he didn't know. Why did it matter? What would it change?

Nothing.

So why was he still trying?

Didn't they both know better then this by now?

"What more do I have to say to make you understand that. We can't stay."

"Not just that we don't want to." Smokescreen shrugged.

"And why can't you stay?" Ironhide growled. "Besides that you don't want to."

"Because property doesn't get to decide what it does on its own." Smokey bluntly stated, and just like that, in the simplest and driest of tones another piece of Ironhide's and Prowl's world fell a little bit more apart.

"What?" Rider laughed darkly to the pain that came to life in those optics. "You think those scars are just for show? We got sold to a fraggin' Ring you idiots. You think that is over? Well it's not. Sure we make our owner credits in death matches of a different kind, but Oblivion still owns us. We're still his property and as long as he runs that Ring we will be. Not even Wardrums as a manger can change that."

Ratchet stiffed like the young red mech struck him and it didn't go unnoticed.

"W-Wardrums?" He stuttered.

Rider's head tilted. That was what he picked out as important?

"Yeah," He nodded. "Wardrums. Our manger, and master, sort of. I guess you could call him either. He took responsibility over us when we were sold. Taught us to last more than a night in a ring match, you know? When everybot around you is trying to kill you."

"I honestly still haven't figured out yet why the pit War or Dust bothered, but they did. So yeah. Released as hunters or not Oblivion still owns our sparks and we have to go back. With the bounty War sends us out to get. Because if we don't go back Oblivion with throw Dust into a ring with a pride of under feed Silver Sabers. We're not going to let that happen."

"Wardrums," Ratchet only seemed worried about one thing in that little bit though. "Wardrums and . . . Dustoff?

Both Smokey and Rider slowly turned and faced Ratchet fully. Mainly because they were pretty sure neither had said Dust's whole name to the medic before. So how the frag did he know it?

"Yeah," Smokey drawled slowly. "Yeah Wardrums and Dustoff. How . . . how did you know that was his real name?"

"Because Dustoff was the mech that saved us." Chromia whispered making both hunter's attention snap around.

"What?" Rider lifted his optic ridged.

"That was what I was getting at, Rider." She said quietly. "How we're not dead. We were sold to a Ring as well . . . and I think it might have been the same one you were in. The Ring Master kept us as trophies. Never let us out of our cage, but Dustoff was the mech that was assigned to keep us alive. He's the one that freed us when everything went to pit and—"

"The gladiators blew up the west section cages in a fight with the Master's kept pet of an ancient bot and half his prizes vanished." Outrider finished, his cobalt blue optics widening as he stared down at the dark blue and highlighted in white femme.

"Yeah," Arcee muttered in shock. "That's what happened."

"Dust knew you were there?" Smokescreen glanced widely between the femmes. "Dust knew you were alive? He knew who you were.? He was taking care of you?"

"Yes." Elita nodded slowly.

Suddenly a growl tore though Outrider's chest. One that rattled the whole hall as he cobalt optics pinned to the floor and he snarled. "That lying bastard!"

"So," Smokey looked away, the cold in his chest being caused by a whole other reason all of a sudden. "There was more than one reason we got sent after this bounty."

"You were there and he never told us!" Outrider almost screamed, fist clenching and unclenching.

Smokescreen snorted, tone darkening while he free hand rested against the hilt of one of his swords. "I think it's about time we made a call, Rider."

"Call?" The red and black mech boomed. "I'm not going to call him! I'm gonna go punch him between the optics!"

"Rider, Smokey," Elita's smooth voice cut off the building rant in the pair of mechs drawing both of them to stare back t her while she offered the mechs she'd watched grow up a smile. "Do you two want some breakfast?"

The question was such a shock to the system that it left the two of them standing there blinking dumbly at her while Prowl and Ironhide were left completely grasping at straws as to how in a simple sentence the femme said seemed to change everything. In just a moment.

Somehow.

Maybe it was because it was so out of left field.

Maybe it was because it was the last thing in the world the hunters saw coming in that moment.

Or maybe the truth that Dust and War had lied to them really rattled them that much.

But whatever the reason was, after all the pleading and yelling that had been done apparently in vein, it was an invite to energon that changed everything.

Even if the two hunters might not have actually realized that yet.

A long klick of silence followed the soft question in which the two young mechs stared back at her with something between confusion and sadness until slowly Rider nodded.

"Yeah,"

Chin held in the grip of pointed claws the imposing presence of the war lord almost seemed to boom through the dark and damp of his underground throne room. Glowing red optics cut through the darkness that ate away at everything around him, but it was the datapad in his lap with the text and images rolling across the screen that had been handed to him that was the cause to the fire inside him at the moment.

It was not the sneer on those scared lips that was to be feared though.

Oh no.

It was the strut chilling burn in those narrow red orbs that had even the one mech in the universe that might never have anything to fear from the mech he called friend once fighting the urge to run. The truth was though, now even Soundwave wondered how much of the mech he knew so long ago, the mech he followed, was even still there anymore. Especially when the look he was wearing now took over Megatron's appearance.

When the mech he knew vanished and the . . . monster took its place. The monster that wore that look.

That was the look that put Starscream in the medical bay and killed the lesser 'Cons without so much as a second thought. The look that had let Shockwave go ahead with so many things Soundwave shook his head at. The look that did nothing to stop the bombing of . . . Vos . . . that let Kaon burn to the fraggin' ground.

The one that smiled as the Sectors fell taking the hopes of their race with it.

There was very good reason even Soundwave had come to be wary of that look.

While it was true Soundwave had very little to fear from such outburst, normally, he was not oppose to the two mini-cons hiding behind his thin silver legs as they peaked around their creator's frame to watch their leader digest the information they had brought back to Nemesis.

"You're positive of this?" The low rumble of Megatron's voice had Frenzy and Rumble yanking back to hide fully behind Soundwave's legs. For Megatron was most certainly a mech that would shot the messenger.

Oh yeah.

No problem with that.

He'd done it thousands of times.

Being one of Soundwave's pets did not guarantee safety from Megatron's temper in every aspect of how and when it could happen. They had all learned that the hard way. Ravage hadn't always just had one optic.

"If I was not positive I would not have brought it before you." Soundwave replied in a monotone that unnerved the twin mini-cons so much they shrunk down even lower toward the floor. It was true that over the vorns Soundwave had become even more of a silent presence than he was in his youth in Kaon. It was also true that it had become a fall back for the tall silver mech to take up this tone of voice when Megatron wore that look. It was almost a defense of some kind.

Not that Rumble or Frenzy knew what it was he was trying to accomplish with it, or why he seemed to need it so bad at times like this. Mainly because they weren't stupid enough to ask. No matter what Ravage said. They were dumb sometimes, they just weren't that dumb.

However, to the small creations that saw Soundwave as more than the sparkless mech most of the universe knew him as now it was still hard to watch him shut down like this in the face of the Megatron that was not really Megatron.

None of Soundwave's creations knew what the silver mech meant when he said that. Not even Ravage and Ravage was the one he told everything too.

Maybe it was because they didn't know the Megatron that was once somebot else as Soundwave did. Maybe it was because they just couldn't grasp the concept, being lab made sparks and all that.

Honestly, they didn't know. All they did know that it was safer to hide behind their creator at times like this and hope that the past relationship between the two mechs was enough to protect all of them from the cold rage burning in the deaths of those twisted red orbs.

With a wicked snarl the towering tyrant shoved himself to his peds haling off and throwing the datapad with all the force he could muster. It came shooting like a bullet across the room straight for the tall, thin mech.

Soundwave didn't even shift his feet.

Instead he simply leaned about half an inch to the right and let the sailing screen fly right on by without so much as a blink.

"HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE!?" Megatron roared, feet slamming into the hard ground of the throne room, sound echoing around the empty room as he stomped across the expanse between him and the only friend he had left until he was standing before the slightly shorter mech glaring down into the depths of Soundwave's red optics.

"I am not yet sure." The thinner and shorter mech replied evenly.

"THEN FRAGGIN' FIND OUT!" Megatron bellowed.

"All I needed was your permission to send Laserbeak."

"Send more than fraggin' Laserbeak!" Megatron snarled. "Send a force! I want results. I want ANSWERS! I will not let some fraggin' bounty hunter take him! I will not! IF ANYBOT WILL TAKE OPTIMUS' LITTLE PRIZE IT WILL BE ME!? DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

"Yes, Megatron." Soundwave nodded, not even flinching a micro under the booming voice that had Frenzy clinging to the back of one of his legs while Rumble clung to the other. Their claws digging into the seams of his armor holding on tight, their fear flashing through the links and causing Soundwave to have to carefully school his expression to keep it from showing among his blankness.

"DO IT! DO IT NOW!" And with that the powerful mech swung away, stalking out of the throne room with the slam of a very heavy door. It was only after the heavy sound of his stalking steps faded away, only after silence took its place did Soundwave finally let out a tired breath. The cold calculation and hold of his frame was allowed to flow out leaving him to seem almost sort of lax. Staring with optics that couldn't be read he took in the empty, cold, dark room marveling at the way it rang so scarily the same as to what was left inside his friend's chest.

"Boss?" The squeaky voice slowly drew Soundwave's optics down to the dark twin while the lighter one still clung tightly to his other ankle.

He didn't speak, only let out a soft hum for Rumble to go on.

"What are ya goin' do now?"

"Pick an invasions unit." Soundwave replied evenly.

"To do what? Take the youngling?" Rumble squeaked as well.

For a moment Soundwave's optics went out of focus as he thought that over. The bounty on the youngling's head had set the war lord off, but it was the photos Frenzy and Rumble came back to the ship with of Outrider and Smokescreen that really caused this reaction. That and the proof Soundwave dug up about them being bounty hunters. For the mech knew who he had been looking at when the mini-cons brought back the photos and even he had sat in stunned silence for a moment too long trying to digest the information.

Outrider and Smokescreen alive?

It shouldn't be possible.

And it created a whole new set of problems.

That and the fact that the bounty on the mechling's head did seem rather serious. Considering Megatron was rather set on not letting anybot beside him take what he was planning on taking some orn it was easy to know the reaction he was going to have.

Still, his audios were ringing a bit more than he would have liked.

He had a problem now though.

Take the youngling or don't?

Even if they took him he knew very well what would happen.

They would have to kill him. There would be no other way for it to end.

So it did indeed beg a new rather interesting question.

Just what was he going to tell this mission to do?

Well, chances are this will end badly.

Ah Rider and Smokey . . . seriously mechs . . . they got to get a hold of themselves. And yeah, Smokescreen smokes, sort of, it's not really smoking. It's more a drug then that. Poison. Yeeeeaaaaah, Prowl and Ratchet are gonna have a few more fits with that. So is Ironhide, when he figures out how bad of a drinking problem his baby brother has.

But really, it's not possible for them not to be damaged. It's not possible for it to all be peachy just because they came back. They weren't kept in a trophy case, they got thrown to the slaughter.

It also makes for more trouble, and it's fun to write. So there you go.

I'll let you guys do the wondering to who Bee felt, I'm looking forward to what you guys come up with.

Also, have I mentioned I love Soundwave? Because I do. The mech is fascinating.

Anyway, thank you again for the reviews. After the week last week turned out to be they really helped. So thank you.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next chapter will be up next weekend.

-Jaycee