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Chapter 37

"So," A deep voice rumbled behind his shoulder. The towering black mech twitched one of his tall pointed audio receptors but he didn't turn to glance back over his shoulder to the tall grey mech behind him. "You intend to just stand here and let this happen?"

"They can handle it, Pulse." Trickster shrugged, he was sure they could. It still made him uneasy though.

"That does not make it good." Impulse growled under his breath, watching through the evening haze sweep over the land.

"You're the one that said it was beginning," Trick huffed at him. "This is the beginning. It's not like we could interfere even if we wanted too."

"Things will play out as they are supposed to." The lighter voice behind them drew Impulse's red optics but not Trickster's blue ones as the softly colored purple and blue femme with the startling green optics walked seemingly out of thin air in a flash of green to come forward and stare down at what lay hidden under the ground.

"Are things going as they should to the West?" Trickster asked her.

"As well as can be expected." She sighed. "War has never made these things easy, you know. He doesn't like taking what we say. He also doesn't like the little details, you already gave him, Trickster."

The black mech smirked despite himself.

Yeah, it was very possible he shouldn't have done that, but it was the only way to get the big idiot to shut up back then. Grief made Wardrums even harder to handle. It was a side of him that Trickster knew well, considering he was the one that handled the real world far more than his siblings did. Which meant he'd been dealing with War and his moods for . . . .

Well, a damn long time.

Yes, he knew very well how it was War would be behaving for Ever. Sadly though that was just the way things were and had to be at the moment.

Impulse breathed a harsh sound through his vents. "He's never been one to believe in fate. No matter the role he has played since birth."

"Odd," Trickster snorted. "You know. Because of that. Considering who he is."

"Oh yes." Evermore giggled. "All this time you'd think he might have caught on to the grand scheme of things."

"He'll never except that all this slag was supposed to happen. Knight he may be but willing participant to this old plan he is not." Impulse pointed out.

"Long term plans that no being but one understand don't tend to appease most creatures." Evermore arched an optic ridge.

"For now it's the short term that will pose the greatest challenge. Because they have arrived." Trickster's optics focused hard on the forms sneaking their way underground.

"Pray those Gladiators are as strong as you think they are." Impulse sighed, for there was nothing they could do but watch now.

Trickster snorted, glared over his shoulder, and settled in to wait with a quiet mumble. "I don't pray."

He hadn't prayed since their brother died, and he didn't plan to ever again.

"But don't go thinking that means anything!" Smokescreen threw a hand up pointing at Prowler when the elder mech's whole frame seemed to relax a little with what Outrider said. "I'm still mad at you!"

The black and white didn't look fazed. "I know."

"I am!" Smokescreen tried to seethe.

It didn't work well.

Outrider let his head fall to his hands as he sighed heavily. "I hate it when Dustoff is right."

Smokescreen deflated, all the fake anger sliding out as he too slumped down in his seat and sighed. "Yeah, me too."

Neither hunter had any idea what to say after that. The whole scheme they had in their heads went up in smoke leaving them grasping for what they didn't know. They had learned to become something of improvised experts over the vorns of this trade. It was hardly ever that their plans worked out the way they thought they would. In the profession of cashing in sparks learning to play off their cuff was a given.

If they hadn't they'd been dead before they ever made it out of their first bait matches in the arena.

This time however, their improvise skills were failing them.

What the slag was the plan now?

They sure as pit didn't have one.

"So," Smokescreen drawled out, wings flexing uneasily behind his back, as he lay his cheek on his palm holding himself up via the table. "What the frag do we do now?"

He wasn't sure who he was asking. Outrider, Prowl, Optimus, or Elita. Honestly, he didn't have a clue. He guessed he should make that comm call they should have already made by now. That probably wouldn't be a half bad idea actually. Spend a few klicks screaming at Wardrums while the worst he could do was hang up.

That sounded just about all right to him.

Sure, the big mech would probably hang up and it would piss him off, but when wasn't the bastard pissed off? It was like his default emotion. Fragger was always mad.

Always.

Not that he didn't have reason to be, but seriously, every once and a while he really should crack a smile for more than just death in the arena.

Granted Smokescreen knew there was more to Wardrums than that. A lot more if everybot was being perfectly honest. Lots of things he was well aware he hadn't been told because he didn't need to know.

That and sometimes he didn't think War trusted him all that much. Dust trusted them, and War knew they were indebted to him him. But trust them?

Smokey was pretty sure War trusted only his mate and himself.

What other reason could it be that he would do all this? Send them here without telling them just what they were getting themselves into. He'd done it before, that wasn't the part that was the least bit surprising.

No.

The part that go under his hide was this: he still expected them to go through with it.

How the pit were they supposed to do that?

They couldn't take the little mech now. Not like this.

"Might be time to call War." Outrider huffed over to his side, drawing Smokey's optics back over to him.

"He's gonna be pissed off." The smaller mech commented.

"Yeah, well, so am I."

Slowly slipping back into the land of the functioning Bumblebee's bright, baby blue optics flickered open to an expanse of silvery-grey armor.

Blue.

His processor and spark quickly provided him with. He was still in Blue's lap.

Twisting his tiny yellow self around he turned those bright optics up to find the sleek, dim grey faceplate. The dark red, slightly short chevron atop his forehead caught and threw the dim light of the observation deck and the flickers that shown through the window as the mech typed away at a datapad he had in hand. Another side glance found Jazz leaned back beside him resting on his palms staring at . . . nothing in particular.

The ceiling maybe?

Bee didn't know.

His shifting around to sit up brought attention down to him though and before he knew it two bright smiles were directed his way.

He chirped happily to said smiles as he found himself scooped up in Bluestreak's hand so that he could nuzzle into the side of the softer cabling of his neck.

"Have a nice nap, Lil' Bee?" Jazz questioned, his smile growing at the antics of the little mech wiggling his way into Bluestreak's neck cables. Chirps of a positive drifted up through the giggling fit that erupted when Blue blew a puff of air out over the little mechs sensitive wings starting a tickling fight.

Bumblebee's little fingers were not meant for the act of actually reaching any ticklish places in the sniper's cabling though and he was quickly, hilarious defeated when Blue swept him up and started blowing softly right upon his middle as the little mech kicked, squealed, and giggled under the assault.

All the noise lifted a pair of black canine heads, audios twitching, and optics lazy but even Scout laid his head back down on his paws and went to recharge this time. Bluestreak they trusted with Bee. He would be fine.

"Blue!" Bee chanted between giggles. "Blue! Tickles! Blue! Stop! Hee-hee, stop!"

"Magic word, little mech." Blue sing-songed, coming up for air for a moment, while Jazz cackled beside him.

More giggling was had and more wiggling was done as Blue went back to the air tickling until finally Bee managed to choke out. "Please! Blue!" Even more giggles. "Blue!"

At that Bluestreak finally let the little mech go from his tickle torture. Bee ended up giggling around his gasping still vibrating his little frame after it ended until he lay back on Blue's palm and blinked big optics up at the mechs.

The orn appeared to have drifted into evening sometime during his nap, not that he really minded. Rolling around to his front, flapping his doorwings with the happy giggling still going on in his chest. They flapped and wiggled drawing Bluestreak's to respond to the happy movements without his thought behind it. Not that he minded. It was a nice change to the way they had been behaving a little while before.

The happy flutter they created in his spark was a welcomed relief and had him smiling even more down at the little mech. A little more happy clicking and chirping warmed through both the sniper's and the saboteur's chest until finally Bee wiggled around again to stare up at them.

"What doin'?" He finally asked.

"Not much, Bee." Jazz chuckled. "Just sorta hanging out."

Rolling up to sit up right Bumblebee crossed his legs, pulling absentmindedly at his toes. "Where Hide?"

"He's still talking with the others." Jazz replied.

Tilting his little head Bee shifted. "What talking about?"

"Rider and Smokey."

"Oh yeah." He blinked. "But what about Mia?"

"She's there too." Blue answered.

A small pout formed on that adorable faceplate. "But me what Mia."

Jazz smiled down at the tiny mechling. "Well you can have Mia when they're done."

"Why can't me go talk?"

Blue's wings fluttered a bit, but no longer in a happy way. "Well . . . they have a lot to talk about."

"Me can't help?"

"Not yet." Reaching out Jazz laid his long claws over those flickering antennas, scratching lightly sending up a happy purr through the youngling. It distracted him slightly from wondering over the guardians turned adopted creators. He'd been away from Hide and Mia longer than he ever did on a normal orn around here. It was no wonder by now he was starting to want to curl in ball against one—or both—strong chest and just be a clingy little mechling that he had ever right being.

This thing going on with Outrider and Smokescreen, there wasn't truly a good way to break it down into youngling terms. To making the mechling understand why there couldn't just be hugs and love all around was a complicated affair. Even his grasp on sparks wouldn't help him get why brothers couldn't act like brothers.

For all that Bumblebee did get of the world there were still a few things that he wouldn't be able to see outside youngling optics. No matter what explanations he was given.

There was a reason Bumblebee still did not know just what Megatron and Optimus were to each other. It was simply too complicated. He was still too young.

To him the concept of this war, the anger, the hatred, the pain, most of it didn't make any sense. Add that into the insane mess of broken bonds and family that were this cosmic catastrophe and there was no real good answer. Not one that a little mechling would except.

Just as he would not get why smiles wouldn't fix this.

It was going to take more than just that. Jazz was afraid of how much more that would have to be.

Even after the snarling fit boomed through that powerful red chest Ironhide still didn't see the chair slamming and embedding in the wall coming. He didn't flinch, partly because it was thrown the opposite way across the room and partly because by now he figured Rider wasn't going to hit him. Even if he might deserve it.

This fight wasn't about them though.

No.

For the first time since Smokescreen and Outrider walked back into their lives their anger was turned to somebot besides the ones that had been their family. It was directed to the manger that wouldn't answer his stupid comm.

"Fraggin' bastard!" Rider seethed, weapons systems heating and whirling as his blasters fought his overrides, trying to transform. He didn't want them, but his weapons system had developed into a hair-trigger. It was a response he could no longer control. As was a lot of the things he did these orns.

Smokescreen however, seemed less then bothered by all of it.

The tri colored Praxian still sat on his chair, ignoring for the most part, not looking interested for the rest. He just sat there staring down at the table fingering the hilts of his swords as he chewed on his bottom lip. It was an old habit, something he had to do. Keeping his hands and mouth busy. Vorns of cy-gars would do that to a mech. Just as they would melt inner tubing for tanks, and ventilation systems. Just as they leaked a steady amount of poison into a bots inner workings with every one that was lit.

They weren't deadly, there were too many ways to fix a Cybertronian for them to be deadly, but they could end up being painful. An addiction of any kind was bad for their race. As it was for any race. Just because their forms were easier to replace didn't change that fact. There was always the chance that something could go wrong.

Like the fact that Smokescreen had no real medical care for the things his habit was doing to his frame. Dust was the only medic that was even interested in looking at him let alone treating him.

Dustoff was not free to decide who he helped, though, no matter that he broke that law plenty enough. There was a limit to what he was allowed to do, the things that were overlooked by the Ring Master. He only had so many allowances because of the simple fact of who he was mated too. Were Wardrums not an as powerful force as he was to the credit making process of the Rings they all would have been killed long ago.

If for no other reason for the simple fact of how much War openly hated the Emperor. That and War was as much a kept trophy as anything else. He, his mate, and everybot they took in were only alive because the Emperor liked seeing the massive mech hate him and have no ability to do anything about it.

Just as Smokey and Rider had no choice but to come back.

They had to.

Running away . . . .

It was a foolish notion. If it wasn't there was no way they would be what they were this orn.

Everybot of their kind talked a good game, they went to battle like it was nothing at all, they had been in the rings, but no bot . . . no bot really wanted to die. At least not until they killed the glitch that ruined their lives.

That was the way Rider and Smokey felt at least.

They knew very well where Wardrums stood in that issue as well.

"And you bots thought I was the messed up one." Smokey chuckled coldly as Rider put another chair through the wall. Ironhide and Mia were up and over there trying to calm the fuming mech down but there was no calming him down with this.

Smokey was cold anger. Rider was hot.

They always had been. Apart from the fact that Rider had been handling himself a little better with this situation in front of them now it seemed the mech's patience had finally snapped. Or maybe it was that now he could be mad at something that wasn't his big brother.

Yeah.

That might be the more accurate description of what was going on here.

Smokescreen fought off a snort.

"I don't think you're messed up." Prowl muttered softly.

Smokescreen snorted again, looking up under his optic ridges to the slightly larger mech. "Don't lie, Prowler. You're not good at it."

"I see my brother." Prowl shot back. "That's all I see."

For a nano or eight Smokescreen said nothing before he huffed and looked away. "At least somebot still does, I guess. I sure don't anymore."

Elita sighed with a hitch in her voice as she spoke. "Why can't the two of you just stay?"

"Because we can't."

"Can't or won't?" Ratchet bit.

Smokescreen's jaw hardened as he cast his light blue optics over to the medic on the other side of the table. "Can't. Because of the bomb wired into my main fuel tank on a flick switch for the bot that claims he owns me. Along with the tracking device that I haven't been able to find all these vorns." The cold look of horror that came over the faceplates across the table from him brought him no matter of joy this time. He just sighed and looked away. "We told you, we are what we are, but nothing we have done was done by choice. Oblivion knows where we are at all times, he knows if we're alive or if we're not, and the moment we step outside the jobs he orders we're dead. Wardrums can't stop that. He's in the same boat we are. We tired our luck once. Dust is missing a fuel tank and half his left internal ventilation systems because of that. That mech is the only reason Rider or me are still breathing. I won't do that to him again. I won't do it to War."

No.

Not after he saw the way that massive mech looked at the end of a arena hallway holding onto his half dead mate.

"What's that?" Bee beeped.

"A firing pin." Blue responded.

"What's that?"

"A hammer."

"What's that?"

"Stock."

"What's that?"

"The barrel, Bee."

"What's that?"

"The safety."

"What's that?"

"Magazine."

"What's that?"

"Plasma chamber."

"What's that?"

"The sight."

"What's that?"

"Bee," Blue drew out his name in a long huff, putting down his rifle that he was cleaning. He had the tiny yellow mech sitting on his knee. He'd wanted something to keep his processor busy with and it was also something to keep Bumblebee distracted with. He'd spent his whole life so far perched on or beside a massive humming cannon watching Ironhide clean and work on his trademark weapons. So watching weapons be taken apart, cleaned and put back together was normal for the little mech. It was almost a calming thing for him to do.

Just as it was for Bluestreak.

Something to focus on always made him feel better. For both him and the little mechling.

Jazz had busied himself with cleaning some of his throwing knives just a pace or two away from them. Cross-legged he put down the cloth and plucked up his wet rock, scraping against the blade's razor edge. Sliding it a few times he then raised the dagger up to let the light letting it catch it and throw it before he went to sharpening again.

The twenty questions going on over to his left was highly amusing and honestly he was paying more attention to the two of them then he was the work of cleaning his knives. It wasn't a strange thing in any realm of their world. Bee was a mechling and asking questions was what he did. That was him. That processor and spark of his were always ready for the next thing for him to figure out.

Except math.

Bumblebee sort of hated math.

Not that Jazz blamed him. It was hard for the little mechling. It was hard for him too when he had to sit there next to the bundle of yellow and watch him struggle over something that in relative terms should have come easy to him by now. The stuff he was being given by Prowl was not something that should be as hard for him as it seemed to be. His processor was old enough to be able to figure the things he was suppose to be doing in his lessons.

He just . . . couldn't figure them out.

It was something his caretakers were starting to become worried about just as they were his still underdeveloped speech patterns.

"Me just wanna know." Bumblebee chirped, grinning up at the sniper from his knee.

"Yeah, I know." Bluestreak sighed back at him, keeping his attention on the task at hand so he didn't blow the two of them up while he played with fire arms.

The twenty questions appeared to have come to an end however as Bee took to simply watching Blue instead of questioning every aspect of what he was doing. The added fact that it was getting late might have had a lot to do with it as well. The little youngling was getting tired even if he had napped most of the orn away. Staying up with Jazz's emotions wasn't all that healthy of a thing for the youngling. He'd crash before long even he knew that, but for now he was content with his perch on Bluestreak's knee watching talent hands perform a task they'd done for more vorns than he'd been alive.

Caught up in the world of watching Bee's spark almost missed the sparks that suddenly slid into his range. At first he almost didn't even feel them, until that moment in which he did. They felt odd, almost drowned out by the huge expanse of energy he'd gotten use two as his world.

He figured most times that his family didn't know that at all times he was aware of what was going on all around him. That if he really concentrated he could feel not only those closest around him, but if he tried hard enough he could find bots all the way on the other battleships. He had gotten to where he could recognize every spark in the faction.

He knew them all, even the bots that didn't have much to do with him.

If he wanted to he could find them too. He had no idea how it was he did that, no idea how to explain it either. He just . . . . did it.

When he wanted to know where somebot was, he looked. Turning his focus inside and sending out with his spark until he found the rhythm and feeling he was looking for. Everybot's spark felt differently. They were all their own thing so it wasn't hard to tell them apart. It wasn't hard to recognize.

It was also not hard to make out if he had or hadn't felt them before. Never had been for him.

This time he prickled when his spark picked up some that didn't feel like they belonged. Wings flaring behind his back Bee turned his attention inward searching to find the slight disturbance he'd picked up. However, when he dug he came up with nothing. He could feel that there were sparks but he couldn't make them out. It was as if there was something in the way. Something that was suppose to keep him from detecting them.

His spark wasn't like others though, of that Bumblebee already knew. He could pick them up even with whatever it was in the way. Only he couldn't make them out like he should be able too.

His focus narrowed, wings tightening and antennas pinning as his spark pushed against what it was that was trying to keep him out. It didn't budge, it wasn't real.

A sudden coldness pooled in the bottom of Bumblebee's tanks.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

A soft whimper left the little mech and suddenly he was scrambling forward and burying himself into Blue's abdominal plates. The sniper tensed and then had his hands around the little mech bending forward—gun forgotten—to get a hold of the quivering ball of yellow.

"Bee?" He questioned. "Bee what's the matter?"

Jazz was already on his knees beside him by the time Bee let out another loud whimper.

"Lil' Bee?"

"Somebot there." He whimpered, optics glancing sidelong out the window.

"What?" Blue glanced at Jazz before pinning his optics back to the mechling.

"Out there." Bee pointed a finger.

"Somebot is out there?" Jazz's armor tightened, his voice dropping, but he never got the chance to say anything else.

Glass shattered, the thick reinforced space strength window of the observation deck came to pieces in a shower of shards out with a force of sonics. The pained hisses that exploded from the two mechs and the force of the blast that hit the window threw both Blue and Jazz backward. Skidding across the floor, audios screaming silence from the sheer volume of the blast. A part of Jazz feared for half a moment that it might have blown out his audios completely as he blinked himself into awareness laying on his back in the middle of the observation deck, but when an insanely loud kind of quiet clanging of bouncing metal reached him he twisted his head to the side optics landing on a slowly rolling round grey ball.

His spark clenched.

"Grenade!"

Spinning to his knees scrambling to his peds as the hiss of that one words left him just as Bee started screaming.

Blue's head was spinning, his audios screaming, and his frame alive with pinpricks of pain from shards of glass but the sudden terrified cry leaving the object he'd unconsciously latched tightly in his hands and plastered to his chest was more than enough to have him moving. As was the yelp that left Jazz did the same.

His bright optics swung right, found that rolling canister, and with a yelp of his own he rolled up just as Jazz latched hold of his collar shoving him away, making a mad grab for two points of all too still black metal as the world exploded behind him with a wave of heat and pain while alarms blared to life though the ship.

Outrider rubbed at his temples trying to rid himself of the building headache as he leaned back against the wall behind him. Not because of the fact that Wardrums wouldn't answer his damn comm, but because the idiot over there at the table just said something that had every single bot in this damn room staring at him like he transformed into a wire-hare or something along those lines.

Rider was looking at him like he wanted to skin him, for in that moment he sorta kinda did.

"Smokey," He ground out through clenched teeth.

The red, blue, and white Praxian turned to look over his shoulder to the other. The look on his faceplate couldn't be described as anything other than board. He'd said it, the big it. He'd said the real reason they were the things they were, why they did the things they did.

He wasn't supposed to have done that.

Not that they really talked about it, but it was one of those things they hid. Being on Oblivion's bad side and the world knowing it wasn't all that hard to come by in the West Rings, but being one of the few that he treated like collard hounds was. It was not something that one flaunted.

"What?" The Praxian huffed back.

"Why?" Rider curled his lips up in a sneer, ignoring the big ebony mech looking shell shocked beside him.

Smokey shrugged. "It's the truth . . . . We were gonna have to tell them sooner or later."

"No." Outrider bit. "No we really didn't have too!"

"Then what would you have said, Rider?" Smokescreen spun fully on his chair, growling back at the larger hunter. "What would your reason have been when we have to go back to that pit? Would you have just left!? Could you have!? Because I don't think I can!"

"We. Don't. Have. A. Choice." Rider snarled.

"Yeah and now I told them why." Smokey growled back.

Rider's response to that never made it out though, the booming growl formed in his chest, but died off when a boom shook the ship hard enough that it knocked the hunter off his peds sending most of the rest of the room to the floor as well.

Crashing to the floor from his chair Smokescreen yelped out a curse as he landed hard on his wings, hissing and struggling, as he rolled off of them feeling the sting all the way down to his struts. Whatever more slighting of higher powers he might feel like doing at that time ended really before it could begin as the sound of that sonic boom assaulted his audios and his spark froze up in its chamber.

From his position on the floor as movement scrambled around him all Smokey could do was throw his optics up the same time Rider threw his gaze to him. Those dark blue optics wide with the same fear he figured were in his own.

For they knew those thrusters.

They knew them well.

The next round of cursing that came out of both of them as they flailed to get their peds under them was drowned out when what sounded like a high pressure, sonic grenade, the kind used in deep space combat bombed off somewhere over their heads sending shock waves resonated through the battleship and taking a good many floors down with it.

Yep.

That was Voltage.

And knowing him he brought Bombstrike with him.

"Son of a glitch!" Smokescreen yelled, finally getting his peds under him with how much wobble the blast was doing to his equilibrium. It didn't slow him down though, he hit the door the same time Rider did, reaching for his sword hilts just as he heard the larger hunter's blasters come online.

The question wasn't were they going to a fight, it was were they going to get there before those two slaggin' glitches killed the bounty they were here to get.

Pain woke Bumblebee before sound did, mainly because he couldn't hear anything beside the dull thudding of his spark in his audios and resonating empty static noise bouncing around inside his head for a few moments until slowly sound slid back in. Then the weirdness of no sound got trumped by the hot agony that tore through his sensor net.

A weak cry slid up his throat the wet sound of the cry scaring him almost more than the pain did as his watery optics flashed open to find a dark, smoke and fire filled world.

What?

His spark slammed hard against its chamber, fear rolling off of him in waves as his field took hold of it and screamed it out as he grasped for breath in the hot air. Tears pooling to life in his optics as the smoldering pain along his back and wings started taking presence over logical thought. Like where he was or what happened.

As he gasp and blinked with tears in his optics he only wanted one thing.

His creators.

"Mia! Hide!"

The cry wasn't singled out to the sparks he wanted however, it screamed out to all he was connected too.

The slam of fear and pain that crashed into Ironhide's chest had the big mech stumbling before he even made it out the door of the rec room chasing after the two hunters that sprinted out before them.

It drew a pained snarl from him and the femme that nearly fell down beside him. Only as soon as the pain registered the pair of the realized who it was coming from.

"Bumblebee!" Mia gasped, her own fear slamming into Ironhide's spark, and then she was gone, a blur of blue and whirling weapons systems. Her sisters sprinted past him as well leaving him to snarl, push his frame forward, cannons spiraling to hot life, with the other mechs spiriting after him as comms, alarms, and screaming came to life through all of Eternity.

Bluestreak's processor came back to the land of the living in a harsh slam of what felt like fire burning through his back. More than the pain though was wings though was the terrified pulsing sliding though his link with the tiny creature clinging to his chest.

His senses came back to him almost faster than a force reboot. Optics snapping open, digits tightening while he mentally scrambled trying to figure out where he was and what happened.

"Bee," His voice sounded weird to his popping audios leaving him coughing sending another flare of pain through him, but at the whimper those damaged audios caught all thoughts of himself were pushed to the back ground as his optics focused down to the little mech clinging to his scotched and leaking armor. Then at the sigh of those blackened, tinged in melted protoform tiny wings on his back Blue was almost leaning to the side and purging up everything in his tanks. At that point he didn't even want to know what his own wings looked like. He could feel the damaged, the burnt nerves not sending the signals they should. In that moment he didn't have time to worry about himself though.

He was still trying to figure out what happened.

"Blue," The little mechling's sob did the figuring for him as his whole focus slid to him. "Blue! Wha—"

"Shush Bee," Bluestreak muttered, trying to calm the screaming in his spark. He was broadcasting and at this point he didn't know what the little mech might be broadcasting too. Pushing himself to his knees the Praxian bit back the cry of agony that fought up his chest the movement caused. Forcing himself to ignore it, he kept tight hold of the youngling in his fist with one hand and then using the other to try and lever himself up when he found his struts refused movement.

Damn.

He really didn't want to know what his back looked like right now.

Bee's whimpering killed his spark and was enough incentive for him to swallow the pain and get to his knees.

"It's okay, Bee." He shushed. "You're okay, It's going to be okay."

But it wasn't going to be okay.

The sound of a heavy frames slamming down behind him sent every instinct he had on fire. As did the thick, dark chuckles echoing over his damaged audios.

Cold dread curled into the bottom of his tanks, spark tightening, were the sensors in his doorwings doing something other than burning and screaming at him they'd be telling him in no uncertain terms that he needed to be getting off his knees and start digging for his back up blaster. The simple terrifying fact though was that Blue couldn't get up. Not on his own.

A petrified squeak left Bee as he registered the huge mechs the same time Blue did, when the weight behind him shifted forward, however Bluestreak moved the only way he knew how. He dumped the mechling down, pushing him forward and under something that was fallen in front of them. He didn't give himself time to think on the scared yelp that it earned him or anything else.

Somehow he just knew, the mechling was better off on his own then he was with him at that moment. Then a heavy, huge hand closed around the back of his throat proved him right.

"Got ya, Smokescreen." The thick voice rasped drawing a short flash of confusion through him before he was yanked off the ground and a sword went through the middle of his chest.

It was a funny thing to think about then, when a plasma blade pierced him through the spark chamber, but at that moment he wasn't hearing the scream it tore through his chest before energon started chocking his vent or the scream that gave away where he'd put Bumblebee.

The only thought that went through his processor was why did the bastard call him Smokescreen?

The grenade and the sonics didn't do near the damage they should have done. The Eternity was better built then the red mech first thought. Even if the only reason he was thinking about that as he and Smokescreen slid around corners and halls racing toward the source they knew well what was because the whole top half of the ship should have been a pile of metal falling down around their heads.

Only it wasn't.

Should have been, but wasn't.

Maybe afterwards if they both weren't dead he'd be curious about how it was the explosion expert of Oblivion didn't manage to pull off blowing this ship back to the surface. They didn't have the luxury of wondering how Bombstrike screwed up what Oblivion paid him for now though, then again maybe it was part of the plan. At this point in shouldering his way through fallen beams, fire, and smoke it wasn't the highest priority in his mind.

Neither of them for that matter.

Smokescreen slid between two broken walls, jumped a beam, broke though what might have once been a window and almost had half a ceiling fall down on his head had Rider no latch hold of him and yanked him back.

He let out a snarl at the grab, but Rider growled in return as they both shot forward again making for the sounds they could hear up ahead. The sounds of others right behind them didn't go unnoticed but it did go ignored. The fact that an entire army was down here in these tunnels at the moment did not mean that Voltage and Bombstrike wouldn't get what they came for.

They might already have it.

Smokey and Rider ran faster.

It was the screams that tore Jazz from the blackness. Screams that tore into his spark faster than the shrapnel and glass had tore into his frame. His weapons systems spiraled into life almost faster then his processor did as he madly scrambled, turned, shoved a beam from him, and looked only have the spinning ball of life in his chest skid to a stop.

"BLUE!"

Two sets of red optics twisted his way. One belonging to a huge yellow mech, the one that had a blade through Bluestreak's chest, and another even bigger blue one. Jazz's spark didn't look much more past the blade though the middle of Blue's chest and the energon that was gushing as the sniper's cry cut off into a choke as he flailed. The instinctual reaction of grasping at the pain coming to play.

Jazz came unglued.

The tiny ball of yellow curled on the burning floor screaming his tiny vocal processor out, the two too still pups near him, none of it processed. All Jazz saw was energon.

"YOU BASTARD!"

He crashed into thick armored plating before he even realized he'd moved, the strong blue frame caught off guard and crashing back into the burning, crumbling mess of floor. Jazz's claws went for main veins, but a blaster shot catching him in the gut sent the saboteur hurtling backward into a wall with a crash.

Bee's screaming cut off in a terrified state of shock as Jazz slammed back into the ground with a grasp, clutching at the burning hole in his middle.

"Get off me you glitch." Bombstrike snarled, shoving himself up right with a snarl.

Voltage cocked his head curiously down at the now leaking, shot mech. "What the pit are you?" He wondered out loud until he turned his attention back to the chocking and grasping Praxian on his blade.

Why in the name of pit would somebot that wasn't Rider be trying to save Smokescreen?

The massive yellow mech tilted his crested head, yanking the blade from the mech letting him fall to the floor with a wet yelp only to latch hold of his neck and pull him back up. Fist tight, cutting off air floor but not the leak of his energon that was flooding into his internal ventilation systems. The stupid hunter would drown in his own energon here in a matter of nanos.

Voltage smirked darkly.

"Finally out foxed ya, Smokescreen." He taunted. Pulling that agony filled faceplate up for a closer look simply so he could have the satisfaction of watching the light fade from the other hunters optics.

Bombstrike was strolling across the room, taking his plasma cannon with him to where he plucked up the other mech as well. He had no idea who the silver idiot was that thought they could take a shot at him, but he was looking forward to the blast as he pinned the struggling much smaller mech to the wall, lined up his cannon, and placed a finger on the trigger.

"Say goodnight, Autobot." He sneered.

Suddenly the bright hunter's optics widened.

"You're not Smokescreen!" The snap leaving the other paused the blue mech's shot making him to twist around and look back to his partner that was now snarling into the paling faceplate of the choking mech as he struggled weakly. "Who are you?! Where is that damn glitch!? Where is Smokescreen!?"

Blue chocked, energon bubbling past his lips as he coughed, his optics clouding.

"Answer me you slaggin' glitch!" Voltage shook Bluestreak hard drawing a short gurgled scream. "WHERE IS SMOKESCREEN!?"

"Right here!" Voltage twisted just in time to find a sword slicing through his forearm. Now it was the hunter's turn to scream. Bluestreak hit the floor in a heap, curling into himself, coughing and grasping, trying to get air and not energon into his vents.

It wasn't working.

He was suffocating.

Drowning.

Voltage reeled back in a screaming curse with a severed arm and energon gushing. Bombstrike twisted, dropping Jazz and leveling his cannon at Smokey as he spun his now stained right blade the other positioned behind him ready and on guard. Bombstrike's cannon never went off.

Because Rider's fist dislocated his jaw.

The blue mech went sprawling and with a charged whine of plasma Rider put a blaster shot through the side of his chest. Bombstrike caught himself with the hit, snarling in pain but flinging himself back forward to the fight. Outrider caught him fist for fist the two huge mechs' frames locked with the force of the hit while they squared off.

Smokescreen twirled his favored blade, the right twin singing as it spun slowly before him. Lips curled up in a snarl he backed the leaking form of Voltage away from being able to help his partner. Outrider could handle him, it wasn't like fighting these two was new to them. They knew very well how to separate them and work their advantages. Rider would not allow Bombstrike the opportunity to have a shot at Smokey's back and in turn Smokey would keep the smarter of the partners busy. Pathetic as it was Bombstrike was just an idiot playing with explosives. Voltage was the one to worry about in this hunting pair.

They didn't even have a real partnership.

They had one mech using another and that was why Smokey and Rider could beat them. Would beat them.

Because in the end neither of these mechs would put himself on the line for the other.

They were not like Rider and Smokey.

Twisting his blades slowly Smokescreen growled, backing Voltage into a burning corner. "You wanted Smokescreen, you glitch." He hissed. "Here I am, come get me."

Damaged arm being pulled behind his back Voltage snarled back at him, yanking a sparring dagger from subspace. It wouldn't do him much good against the sword master.

Still he threw the knife.

Smokey's blade twisted knocking the thrown one away, then he sprang, blades first.

Only he missed.

"Slag," Hissing he slid before slamming into the fallen wall, spinning on his toes to dodge the slam of a pulled up axe that Voltage swung for his head. Ducking down the left twin of the blade swung for knees, clipping plating. Even damaged Voltage was still fast though.

Idiot or not, he was a pit fighter and he'd been fighting Smokescreen long enough for the grudge that burned between them to have grown. Which meant he knew how the Praxian moved.

Across the room hot plasma sparked between the active weapons systems of two locked frames, snarling, twisting, shoving, pushing, but Outrider was too smart to let Bombstrike go so he'd have a shot with that cannon just as Bombstrike was too narrow minded to think of any other way out of the stalemate.

Another wicked snarl had Rider getting a good enough hold to off balance the bigger mech sending him crashing into his so called partner across the room. Smokescreen ducked under the falling, swiping with his blades along the way taking a huge slice out of the both of them. Those focused optics, narrowed and sparkling behind the razor edges of his blades caught sight of the tiny ball of yellow across the ruble. The tiny ball of yellow that was crawling across the burning ground with tears rolling down those cheeks. The stubby little wings at his back were burnt on the edges and the sight of them had a sick feeling twisting in Smokescreen's tanks.

He saw where the tiny youngling was crawling. To the trembling, twisting, leaking frame of that Bluestreak mech.

The one who's frame was turning a grey that was not the color he was suppose to be.

Smokescreen swallowed hard.

The mech was dying.

Bumblebee's whole spark hurt. His fame hurt, his wings hurt, his processor hurt, his vents hurt.

Everything hurt.

Aching and burning he coughed, crawling forward. He couldn't feel Scout and Echo, he didn't know where they were. His spark was twisting, afraid.

He didn't understand.

He didn't know who was here. He didn't know what was happening.

He didn't know why Blue wouldn't get up.

"Blue," Sniffling he reached the trembling, wrong color armor. Latching hold and trying crawl up only to fall back down at the slick of energon. He fell to his aft with the sudden slip making him blink in confusion. Shaking the little mech looked down at the bright substance all over his fingers.

And then he started screaming.

Jazz's head was spinning. Clashing metal, cries, alarms, snarls, it all ran together in a dull throb as he shook it back and forth trying to make sense of the noise. The slam back into the wall must have knocked him unconscious because he didn't remember hitting the ground, but he did remember the burning hole in his gut. A gasp of pain left him until a sound broke through all the rest and he twisted to the left only to suck in a terrified breath.

Blue. Bee.

Ignoring the flare of agony he shoved himself upright and flew. Hitting his knees, scooping up Bee, and latching hold of a choking Bluestreak at the same moment the others finally hit the broken doorway.

The femmes got there first, but Jazz didn't see them.

He also didn't see Smokescreen burying his swords in that yellow glitch's chest like the bastard did to Blue. He didn't see Outrider take hold of the blue mech's head and rip it off his shoulders. He didn't see the curled and too still black forms of two pups laying a few feet away in the ruble. He was hardly even aware of the screaming and crying ball of yellow clutching to his chest. His own energon running down his front didn't process with him.

All he could see was the bright blue staining Bluestreak's fading armor and the dullness of his optics as he stared back up at him.

"Blue!" He cried, latching hold of the younger mech's chest trying to stop the flow of energon. "Blue! Bluestreak, come on!"

"Blue!" The cry from Prowl's lips echoed even over the boom of Ironhide's cannons and then the two tone was on his knees grasping the younger mech by his cheeks with trembling hands and forcing his gaze on him. "Blue, look at me! Look at me! Blue!"

Jazz fell back on his aft, cradling the shaking mechling, shielding his optics from the carnage even if that point it was rather pointless. What he couldn't see now he'd seen before and the rest he could feel and hear.

"Blue!" Prowl's voice shook, tears pooling in his optics. The younger sniper choked, gasping, his own trembling hands reaching up to take a weak hold of Prowl's wrist. He tried to speak but the energon choking him wouldn't let him. He just coughed making the SIC shake harder. Fear shining in his optics as he suddenly cast his gaze around about to scream for Ratchet, for Arcee, for somebot when the yellow and red mech was there shoving him out of the way with Arcee beside him.

Prowl fell backward into Jazz the saboteur catching him as best he could with one hand and then keeping hold of him when he struggled and went to go back.

"No Prowl!" Jazz hissed into his audios.

"He—"

"Ratchet and Cee will help him!" Jazz struggled for his hold. "You can't help him now! You have to let them!"

"Blue!" Prowl fought him. "Let go! Blue!"

"Enough Prowl!" Elita was suddenly there just as Quickfire and First Aid crashed to their knees in front of Jazz taking the whimpering youngling from him while Jolt forced the saboteur to his back trying to stop him from leaking out as well when Ratchet started barking orders.

"Aid get him to stable and then get down to the bay and help me! Fire take care of Bee! Get those damn pups too! They're still breathing it looks like! Keep them that way! Elita keep hold of Prowl! Optimus help her!" Scooping the sniper up he didn't wait to see if he would be listened too. He and Arcee made a mad dash for the bay. It was the only chance they had of saving Blue and they left the disarray of everything else behind them.

Including Ironhide and Mia with a poofed from somewhere Hammerdown there around Quickfire as she stuck a sedative into their crying and screaming son. First Aid threw a patch kit at Jolt and then bolted after the CMO, tripping and cursing the whole way as he fought his way through the crowd thankful when Magnus' booming voice had bots moving. Jolt forced Jazz to be still as he tried to stop his tanks from rupturing and the plasma burns from lighting the split energon on fire. While Optimus and Elita held onto the trembling form of Prowl as the black and white mech shook in their grasp trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. Leaving half the faction standing around confused and panicked in what was left of the hall way.

Smokescreen and Outrider behind them standing over the forms of the hunters they just killed perhaps a little too late. Rider's optics fixed on the ebony and two blue frames that were following a very familiar red, yellow, and orange femme to her feet as she made a dash for a bay as well and one of them bent to pick up the leaking black pups. Smokey's on the trembling form of his brother in the arms of the Prime staring out the door with tears in his optics and energon on his hands.

I think I'll go hide now.

Next chapter will be up next weekend, hopefully, life is sort crazy but I'm planing on it being done.

Looking forward to what you all thought. Even if it's yelling at me.

See you guys next chapter.

-Jaycee