Yeah, that's right,

I'm not dead! :D

Trust me everyone, you aren't the only ones who've been twitching for this.

It's taken awhile,

but I do hope it's totally worth it for you guys :)

I just wanted to put it out there as well that I sincerely hope you all had happy holidays,

I know I did ^_^

Once again, let me clear stuff up:

Normal: English/Regular speech

Bold: Cybertronian

Italics: Thoughts

Italics w/ swirly thingie:Comlink

Please, do tell me what you all think, and...

Enjoy!

Of The Spark And Heart

Part 2

Chapter 51

"I'll be here, forever. Just follow me." an incredibly white smile, pure down to the gentle curve of their pink lips. Kind eyes watched from beneath thick, dark eyelashes. Almost silver locks flowed freely about their head as a curtain of golden rays of sunlight. A single hand reached, outstretched.

"Wait, where are you?" this new voice was ragged - broken. It didn't belong here in this magnificent brightness. It caused darkness to spike with each word, bringing with it a horrifying sense that had no place among the coursing light surrounding the fading figure. They too stretched out, wanting to grab the one they seek, but alas, they remained so far away from their touch. Mere fingertips away, they strained and fought to beat the weight to get to each other. "Why can't I reach you?" they demanded, frustration and sadness baring heavily in their listless tone.

Another grin, edged with sparkling tears, beamed down on desperation and concern, none of these emotions playing in their watery depth of crystal eyes. They were content, their ivory skin giving a glow that matched their expression perfectly. It was difficult not to fall for the calm, for the darkness was gripping and clawing at the worried one's body, their mass increasing tenfold. The world was building on them, turning against them, trying to keep them from completing the one goal they wished for.

"Just follow me."

"Reach for me! Grab me!" they called so clearly, so crisply, wanting - more needing the return of their comrade's essence with their own. Hollow was all they felt now, with such an emptiness there that it frightened them to return to any sense of reality. However, their angelic peer drew away, teasing, ever staying just out of tangible contact. It was all angering, causing the black to creep quicker and in swifter hooks over the prone body of their prey. They were on his arm now, pinning his legs and sucking his body within the vortex of nothingness. Aching loss seeped within their core, pulling them further into their worst nightmares.

They came closer, closer...but still remained so far away. "Reach for me fraggit!" he called, booming his astral voice as loud as he dared inside the brittle white. Her lips opened, her pearly teeth parting as if she planned to speak. If only to hear her speak again, after this time only experiencing silence...

But then she warped, the darkness climbing and clambering over their victim as a surrounding sludge. Inescapable, the fighting entity could do nothing but struggle uselessly and short his capacitor in calling her name. The last thing he saw of her where her eyes: oh so very blue, and oh so very shattered...

Coming out of this suffocating shadow was both terrifying and familiar. It resulted in a single figure lying on the floor jolting to the world of the real, their optics shooting wider and their optic slips twitching with the lasting lingers of their vision. Shaking limbs remain languid and unwilling to move at first, their master coming online quicker than that of his mobility programs. They continued to tremble however, not a single plate on his frame still as he flicked his hyper gaze across the ceiling over and over. Still the same boring, lacking surface it had always been, it helped as a form of stability to feed off of and relax on.

His arms sit locked behind his cranial unit, acting as a sling to pillow his helm while he rested along the length of the floor. The temperature boiling under his armor nearly melted the alloy right from his protoform, the warnings taking up the bulk of his sight. A blurry sheen covered his view along with this, making things seem more surreal. Dots danced along the edges of his optics, his balance spinning and making it difficult to concentrate. For a moment, he simply laid there, if only to regain himself. Though his messages of impending shutdown and dangerous temperate levels were beginning to fade, the mark was still there.

Heaving vents whirred slower, taking in longer, drafty cycles of air that rattled out from their stressed and fatigued systems. Creaking pivotjoints unwound and fell into a lesser tense position. The digits behind his pounding helm loosened, popping out of dents that made him wince with their damage. Ratchet would be irritated at his carelessness, but hadn't he dealt with this before? It wouldn't be the first occurrence that this nightmarish loop had come to pass.

The only perplexing thing about it all was that Cybertronians didn't dream.

He now released a sigh from the frame that seemed to never quite rest properly. There was never a time over these few weeks that he found himself fully rested or as energized as he had been before. It was the mental and emotional ware that was affecting him most now, for the physical exhaustion was something he'd become used to.

Slowly, he urged himself to roll to his aft, dragging back his peds to rest his elbowjoints on his kneebolts and cover his faceplates with his servos. What was he still doing here? Why torture himself in the past when he could focus better on other things? Looking up now, his servos hovering before him, Sol gathered the strength in himself to gaze upon the peaceful form of his charge amongst the stiff sheets and medical straps holding her spine from touching the bed. The barrage of machines, tubes, and wires gathered around her and attached to her ivory skin filled the quiet with their various, soft noises. She appeared more machine than human.

Barely feeling alive himself, Solas scrubbed his features and took in the shallow breathing of Fera, her mother's light snores, and the beeping of the monitors. No changes had come over the poor teen since her incapacitation, and her mother had absolutely refused to leave her side since the first day. In fact, the woman had become so determined at remaining beside her creation that soldiers and workers around base had constructed a temporary flush area for her, as well as took shifts bringing in sustenance for her. But what a survivor she was. For days, she stayed awake, holding firmly to Fera's hand as the girl battled for the right of life. It truly was inspiring.

This could not be said for the Guardian however, for he had merely sat aside the two, prowling the grounds of the room or taking position in the corner while Ratchet made his daily round checking in on his patient. Cautiously, he tapped at their connection, internally willing it to make some sign. Of course, nothing occurred, and once again he was left empty and utterly alone. There was a part of him that expected her to respond, though she had not for some Earth weeks now. The disappointment was immediate inside of Solas, and he couldn't sustain the gripping vice on his spark.

Why must he continue this torture upon himself? With each attempt at contacting their bond, he was left without air and paralyzed to the spot. Thankfully so far Ratchet had failed to notice these occasional episodes. This did not necessarily mean Solas could hide them forever.

A broken bond, or in this case a partially broken one, both connected beings were to be put through intense physical and mental suffering. According to Ratchet, if their bond was to officially brake, two things could happen: First, Solas could perished from the enormous strain of a piece of him literally dying off, as any bonded pair or even siblings from time to time did. Or second, nothing could occur at all.

Fera was human, and as such, she was not linked to Sol through the usual way, such as Rethalia Prime and her sparkmate, Optimus Prime, or Hawktail and his brother Bluestring were. It was a newer thing, that confused and frustrated both the medic and the Guardian. There was no telling what would come from Fera and the mech's withering connection, but from the initial appearance of things, it wasn't turning out to be an event for the better. If anyone could offer any advice that would be the tiniest of help would be Rethalia, who had actually been cut off from her mate for a short period of time when he briefly deadsparked those decacycles ago. If she had perished alongside him, neither would be here currently. Megatron would certainly have taken over, the Decepticons would have won the war, and Autobots would have been forced to flee for their lives or stand their ground to die a stubbornly defiant death.

Solas Kaon knew he would be one to have stayed, but would he have even came here if not for his comrades? Would he have been apart of the AllSpark team and followed in his Prime's steps to stop the Decepticons, though their leader was gone? Had he not been ushered to Earth by his superiors at the time, would he ever have traveled here and met Fera? She had changed his views greatly on the human race over these months and still she opened his optics wider each time she spoke.

Motion from the corner of his gaze caught his attention and he jerked a stiff neck aside to see Sarah moaning and snuggling impossibly closer to the creation most important to her life. The straps and bed beneath Fera's hanging body kept her from getting much nearer, though. A fabric draped across the thin shoulders slipped off slightly, exposing the ivory skin her precious daughter had come to bare. A low glowing continued to waft from the artifact that had originally caused all their strife at the hollow of Fera's neck and faintly lit Sarah's features. It was a complicated thing in his optics, being both a hindrance and an asset.

Creaking and complaining sounded from weary pivotjoints while he rose to two unsteady peds. It took the support of the berth his charge rest on, and sheer will of his feigning strength to bring him fully to a stand. It was at this time that the door hissed aside to allow another guest through. The mech sagged against his arm, which held up most his weight, and gave a clear sigh. The last thing he wished was to be bothered in his musings.

"I've heard the tales and stories of your time on Cybertron, Solas Kaon," a soft, higher voice. It swept like a breeze across the air, soothing any spark upon hearing it. Full of an innocence that was near legendary now, it surprised Sol for a nanoclick before he recognized it. "However, I neglected to inquire if any had seen you fragmented as you are now." definitely who he figured it was now, Solas turned to Cloudsong and faintly acknowledged the increase in steadiness of her tone. There was a confidence there now - a comfortable edge.

An aged rumble, far past that of his actual maturity shook him to his core and caused plumes of exhaust to billow from his hidden vents. Artificial light shadowed his features further and brought out the deepest of lines in his usually youthful faceplates. Her own remain calm, however the inexperienced block she attempted putting up in her optics failed and revealed the true worry beneath. She was near sick with it, as was most other of their comrades.

In one servo, she held a small tray of nutrients for Fera's mother. In the other an unfamiliar device rest, with a strap hanging off her delicate wrist. She advanced with her gaze not meeting his, always in her submissive manner no matter who she met. She only stopped beside Fera's berth, her careful and intensely observant optics searching over the forms of her patients. Setting beside the tray, she used a tenderness Solas himself could not ever mimic to bring Sarah's blanket back over her thin shoulders.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," he noted with a rough, misused voice. He mentally winced at this sound, for it showed his inner struggles despite his strive to hide them. Cloudsong didn't seem to notice, or didn't show she did, for she simply went on with her task of checking Fera's vitals and recording down her findings on the compad at the end of the structure.

The apprentice took her time before she finished logging her data. It was then drawn to her chassis while her blue orbs strayed on the comatose teenager. "You, once a gladiator of Cybertron, brought to such a reclusive state," her helm shook from side to side. "It is saddening for me to see you slowly wasting away by her side when I have only come to hear of the best and strongest of your legends. Ratchet relayed to me your first comings here, and the personal Pit you've gone through already." the shyness returned in her and she knitted her optic ridges, pulling herself away with a short step to the side as she distracted herself with various medical equipment.

"I apologize...I was out of line," she murmured timidly. Solas could but stare at the back of her slim helm, taking in the information she had told him. Ratchet spoke of his past? The two mechs never had been quite the pair, but they were closer than simple brothers in arms. This fact that the medic actually trusted his fembot apprentice with such sore memories was a enlightening thing.

Sol came forward and watched the apprentice at work as she fiddled with different monitors, tubes, and wires. "It is alright," he assured her, folding his arms over the berth and resting his chassis against them. "I know that now is not among my most prideful of times, here or on Cybertron. However, I hope you understand that I was bonded with this human and that I am yet unsure if I shall perish with her or not, if the event passes." he would not look at Cloudsong, but he noticed the way she glanced over her shoulderbolt at him and hesitated in her work.

"Of course...Ratchet has told me of your...state," she confirmed. "Nonetheless, he requested I visit here and convince you."

"Of what?" Sol snapped in a firmer way than he'd meant. The flinch from Cloudsong struck Sol in the spark and he sighed, knowing that this fembot was being brave compared to her usual demeanor. He knew it was unfair to her to place his irritations with the mech Chief Medical Officer on her. It still took about a nanoclick or so of silence for Sol to know that Cloudsong was apprehensive about telling him of this deal, and he reined in his patience in favor for her comfort. The astroseconds passed, long and thin, full of a strain that had sat and pooled around Solas' cold, unresponsive bond since the beginning.

When she did speak again, he knew he must mold his volume. Cloudsong would only look at him over her shoulderbolt, never meeting full contact. "Optimus Prime is concerned over your wellbeing and has questioned if your health is in danger. Because of this, Ratchet has been given the task of...coaxing you to join a...scouting mission," she said.

"I cannot leave here, I vowed to stay by Fera and Sarah Lennox's side."

"Which is why Wheeljack...has volunteered sentinel over them both."

"But he is in Saint Louis, how is he to..." Solas paused and the pieces fit together before he could speak. The realization of how sincerely long he'd been cooped in this room dawned on him as he thought. Cloudsong nodded and drummed her digits over the compad laying before her, her optics shuttering and cutting off the pure brightness of their aura.

"Wheeljack and the others of the Saint Louis base have relocated here...while Ultra Magnus and the Fabials have moved to their base. The Dinobots...and Nightmare have also moved to the San Diego base in place of Ultra Magnus' absence..." she reported.

Sol curled in his servo and patted it against the berth, causing faint, light rings to come up in place of conversation. He was contemplating things - thinking them through. Maybe it was best he leave here for but a moment. It could not possibly be healthy for him to remain here, locked up for groons on end. But what would the difference be out in the worlds? Wherever he was, he would feel this pain. If anything, it would be worse the further he separated from her.

Cautiously, he hardened his mandible and spoke. "Where is the scouting mission?"

"Out of state borders..." she grabbed the compad she had set down and held it close, as if it possessed the secret of life. "A recent Decepticon spotting has appeared...close to a large energy signature...near New York. We are still unsure what it is," still she continued to keep her optics from meeting his. There was an edge to her voice, one that was not usual of her even with the shy flickering of her gaze. The quick movement of her arms and digits as she worked betrayed her anxiety. Was it truly so difficult being in the same area as the Guardian? There wasn't a split astrosecond he dared attempt to harm her, but perhaps it was his stance that was making her uncomfortable.

He tried relaxing his shoulderbolts and straining his vocal capacitor so it would be softer, if only to keep from spooking the fembot. "It is interesting to me why they would be unwilling to find me themselves," he rumbled pensively. Cloudsong drew in a vent so subtle that Sol doubted himself that it was real. Nonstop he noticed her aiming herself for the door, as if to bolt. It seemed the longer they stayed together, the further she grew agitated.

"Interesting indeed," she agreed, finally turning away and striding for the entryway, "Farewell Solas Kaon."

Confused at first from her sudden change, the Guardian could but watch the apprentice disappear behind the door before he glance back to Fera. Resting here, basically alone once again in the silence, one couldn't help but think to pass the time. The song... the one she used to sing before everything had happened, suddenly crossed the front of his processor. And as he broke himself away from the charge he'd failed to protect, along with her ailing female creator, his vocal capacitor humming quietly. The lamb I did see, the lamb, the lamb...

Traveling along the rigid expanse of hard, concrete halls was more difficult than Solas had originally predicted it to be. The lack of exercise for his hydraulics and pivotjoints caused him to be incredibly stiff and weary. Air choked his vents when he cycled, while tingling energy from his misused electrical circuits sparked every so often and caused his plates to twitch spastically. A feeling of lead flooded his peds and made it almost impossible for them to keep from scraping across the floor. It was a sad sight really, to see such a massive fighter brought down so violently by something so simple as a sparkache.

A brief idea came to his processor to turn back into hiding within his own quarters, or most likely Fera's medical room, for his shame and embarrassment was enough to make his tanks churn. Every look he received from the humans below retained a lowering of his optics, his conscious too guilty to dare stare another one of her kind in the eye beside Sarah.

They wouldn't understand the immensity of his discomfort, or the pain of the unknown. They had their version of commitment, however it was nothing when held next to the true intimacy of a bond. A bond was forever, no matter who it was to. Humans had their bonds, but it could never compare.

Surely there was something beyond this. Or, possibly, could this be all he knew until his end? His time must be coming, he knew it. But really so soon? And without fulfilling his duties? He'd wished to live until he rusted over, as all Cybertronians did. A peaceful, maybe noble deadspark.

The end of the hall came within view and a sigh wheezed from between aching vents and through his sore systems. Where would he lead himself until it was time for his end? For so long now, he'd fought his own battles and won the wars of his mind, but it was becoming infuriatingly clear that this was one war he may very well lose. If she were to fail, they both would. There was no one living beyond the other now. It was too easy for Solas to feel the bond that had grown from human to mech, and for him to know that if she were to perish, so would he. The tendrils were too strong, the influence too mighty. What would become of this Autobot's life cycle was in the grasp of a comatose humanoid with a snapped spine and cranial injury.

Not liking his chances, and dreading the very future he stepped in to, Solas Kaon trudged to the edge of the corner and peeked into the main lobby area where he figured to find Ratchet and the Prime. However, to his utter surprise and total prediction, there were more figures than that of who he sought. In fact, the entire broad space was covered in Cybertronian and human forms alike, all spread in various areas with their attentions aimed at the large projection screen toward the front wall.

Optimus Prime was simple to spot, towering beside his sparkmate Rethalia Prime with their youngling Liora in her fembot creator's arms. Ratchet remained close to Cloudsong, her brother Thunderflare, and of course Moonracer. The minty fembot held her arm around his waist, her optics flushed with worry. The other two apprentices didn't appear any less concerned, while the expressions of Bumblebee, Mirage, and Hound didn't seem at all joyed. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker sat in the back of the crowd, the crimson brother's arm still in a sling from dislocating it during the battle the night of Fera's injury. Sunstreaker gave Sol a single nod and turned to whisper something in Prowl's audio.

Smokescreen and Red Alert were seen next, standing beside the scaffold that held Captain Robert Epps and Colonel James Marks, the darker skinned man leaning against the rails while his younger companion had his arms crossed. Bluestring was located next to the device that projected the feed onto the screen, next to him, to Solas' surprise, being his sibling Hawktail. Who, he should add, was supposed to have been in Saint Louis. If he was here, Sol knew the others couldn't be far behind. And scanning for a mere nanoclick, he found Stratis stationed on Hawktail's left side, and Wheeljack with Greenlight in a curtain of shadows next to a group of soldiers Solas did not recognize.

The missing pockets of peers Solas found around him confused him for a moment, before he recalled Cloudsong informing him of their departure. Yes, those who left gave more space to those who'd stayed. But because there were less of them on base, it would mean they could not spread their forces so greatly as before.

It grew awkward for him to lean so precariously against the sharpness of the corner, his bad shoulderbolt whining in complaint at being crushed beneath his bulk. However he remained, adamant on finding out what it was Cloudsong had dragged him from the depths of his wallowing for.

Turning his optics to the viewing screen, the mech wondered if his answer laid within the muffled voice of the female human. She stood in blaring sun, her fleshy hand clenched tightly around the handle of a strange object that appeared as an amplifier device. She remained stiff and unnaturally firm, her eyes frozen on the distance before her, their brown pools relaying a practiced and almost anxious tone. Streams of her short, brunette hair flared behind her while the wind buffeted her prone body. A strange group of clothing she wore reminded Sol of the Secretary and his counterparts, however there was a lack of fabric around her neck.

Behind her raged a swell of waving grasses and colorful flowers poking from inside the flush of greens. Striking stretches of trees and distant, grey, ice-capped mountains stabbed the skies and clouds. A stoic, dim structure protruded from the carpet of yellows, purples, and emerald, its walls a lackluster and unforgiving ash color. The black windows along the surface caused yet a further sense of misfortune, as the soaring stacks of cylindrical towers vomited a volley of smoke.

The woman, whom Solas figured as some form of newscaster, spoke in an unfamiliar and thick language, her accent strong. Searching through his files, Solas activated his recognition protocols and within the click had his Russian linguistics program running. The words flowed softer and the meaning of each was easier to understand.

"- unexplainable in nature occurred here at the Russian Nuclear Facility in Kirsk during the latter hours of the night. Civilians of the nearby city recall loud sounds of metallic screeching and screams around two o'clock in the morning, of what they say were both human and inhuman in nature. Russian Representative Anatoli Mozarov has deemed this event as a military anomaly and explains the destruction had come from a malfunction from a piece of equipment within the building. Its result has damaged a larger part of the western wing of the sight, as well as both smokestacks and a major section of the nuclear half of the facility. It still remains unclear what had caused the machine to explode, or if it is to erupt again. Representative Mozarov also describes himself as being present with the manager of the sight at the time of the accident, a Motova Varennikov, and that they were both unharmed."

The woman gestured behind her and the camera panned closer to the building, extenuating the level of destruction. It was true the building was wrecked, with most the roof gone, the walls charred, and considerable amounts of material missing from the smokestacks. Rubble sprinkled the ground, which was also scared and ruined. Pools of tar-like liquid sat still in the mess around them; shattered windows sparkled and broke further in the wind; sunlight filtered down on the pathetic remains of what was once the nuclear wing.

"Investigations are taking place within the zone, however, it was cautioned to us that we stay well away from the sight in case of another explosion or possible meltdown. Other witnesses to the encounter recall bright flashes of light and other minor blasts coming from RNF. So far, we have been able to detain that there was but only damage to the building and that no accountable workers were harmed-"

"Bull shit!" the sudden barking voice from Captain Epps snapped everyone's attention from the woman to himself, and Bluestring reached over to pause the newscast. The human warrior held himself taller than the Colonel next to him, his hands balled at his sides and his eyes boring into the projection. "What are they doing, hiding the truth like that from the public? There were at least fifty injured in that blast, and twenty of them missing," a finger jabbed roughly at the direction of the woman. "Optimus, the Russian people deserve to know that they lost a good few men and women in that 'military anomaly'. What about their families?"

The Prime's helm turned on the Captain calmly, his optics weary. Solas watched curiously from his spot by the back, his neck straining to give him a better view. Optimus had his arms strictly by his sides, his mask of neutrality over his faceplates once again. Even in the sights of one of his eldest human friends, Solas found himself angered that Optimus would find now a good time to hide his inner thoughts. A sense of empathy and understanding would suffice. The only grace they received however was a saddened look of his cerulean orbs. Which, were almost always so.

"Russia's Representative Mozarov has informed me that he indeed suspects this to be a Decepticon-influenced activity," Optimus announced. "However, in the better welfare of the general public, he deemed it necessary to entitle this occurrence as accidental."

"And the missing? You really believe them to buy that piece of crap story for long? Those men and women had families to return to Optimus, they weren't hobos off the streets. Someone cared about them."

"I know..." his voice trailed off and that mask he wore broke. Depression deepened in his gaze, while the weariness he certainly must have been experiencing showed in the sag of his shoulderbolts. Rethalia Prime followed his lead in averting her gaze, but she remained strong beside her leader. The youngling in her arms whimpered and Rethalia spoke in hushed tones to settle her creation.

"In this circumstance, I found it appropriate to elude the Russian population into believing their people missing, and not terminated," Optimus continued after brushing a servo over Liora's helm himself. "The Decepticons are currently of high suspicions of killing the scientists, and for reasons beyond my understanding. They must have desired a target within the building, for I know Arachnid has her reasons behind her actions." his cranial unit slowly shook once in disappointment and then lifted in an icy loss of nobility.

"For now, I sought an audience with the Representative and other Russian officials allied with N.E.S.T. Myself, and fellow Autobot and Government officials will travel there to meet with them."

Solas allowed his chassis to rumble lowly at the mention of more government interjection. There was no more time to dare waste with meeting with pompous figures and snobbish humans. Fera's life, as well as that of the rest of her species' were at risk because of the Decepticon cause. Whatever reason they held to kidnap the workers from the facility, it wasn't purely out of spite. They had reasons behind their actions.

The warrior stepped from the corner and took his place closer to the crowd, where, despite his attempts of blending in, he was seen by Ratchet. The CMO darted his optics from Optimus and Epps to Solas, where he then silently greeted the mech with a nod. Cloudsong kept her gaze steadily away while her mentor moved forward, not even taking a moment to glance Sol's way. It was not the fembot the Guardian and former gladiator was concerned with at the moment anyway, as the vivid yellowish-green medic held his full attention while he approached.

Careful to avoid contact with his still healing wounds, Ratchet leaned in close to Solas' audio and set a servo on his shoulderbolt as an act of stability. "I'm assuming you agree to the scouting mission then if you are here with us," he murmured, stepping around to stand casually beside Sol. The black and crimson Autobot straightened a bit and focused on his leader and human peer, listening in on Ratchet as he did so.

"There is a question I must ask of you before I do," he responded quietly.

Ratchet increased the pressure on Solas' arm, making sure the subtle swaying of the mech wasn't a sign he was to collapse. "And that would be?" he prompted.

"What is the energy signature?" Sol twisted his neck around so the side of his faceplates aimed back at Ratchet and his optics ducked to the floor. Ratchet huffed and patted Solas' shoulderbolt.

"I ordered Cloudsong to mention that this was an unidentified object of interest. You believe we know-"

"Wheeljack was the one whom located the signature, correct? And with Greenlight and Stratis here, I'm certain you know exactly what it is."

"Not even they can find all the answers."

Optimus and Captain Epps were still conversing, and the raise of the man's voice caught Solas' attention as he hit the railing. A shrill ringing floated throughout the room, causing most to freeze.

"Tell me one good reason why it has to be you, of all of us, to travel half a world away to see to some suit who we can handle ourselves just fine?" Epps grasped the railing now, his dark hand squeezing hard enough to make the veins protrude. "We need you here big guy, not out in the open like that with only two other 'Bots watching your back. That's begging for something to happen."

It was yet unclear whom the two Autobots where the Captain spoke of, but by past experience, Solas knew Optimus would be leaving his mate in charge while he left. He would definitely be needing a medic, but not Ratchet, who would best be needed here. This said, he was most likely bringing Cloudsong and another mech or fembot with patience and tolerance. Who could it be?

Optimus sighed through his vents, their openings flaring beneath his chassis armor. "The Representative requested I meet with them officially so as to discuss these matters and the actions we plan to take against them."

"And what plan do we have? I trust you Optimus, like a brother actually. But, that doesn't mean I'm going to sit back and watch you go out there and stick your neck out like last time. We can't lose another 'Bot."

A questioning prick edged Solas' faceplates as he rounded his attention back to Ratchet. In a matter of nanoclicks, the seriousness of the meeting had fully taken its toll and a now pained expression marred his already aged profile. An unsettling sadness rolled off him, causing Solas to become incredibly uncomfortable. He didn't like the way the room felt with the stark quiet of the wolves of the wind, and he especially grew uneasy at the way the medic was staring off into the near distance between the Prime and Captain.

"What does he mean Ratchet? What happened while I was with Fera?" though his voice remain firm, it wasn't aggressive. Despite this, the CMO turned his sights downward and let his servo fall from Sol's shoulderbolt. Shame burned within his body language while a heavy despondence danced along the contour of his armor. Solas, furthermore concerned, nudged the mech. "Ratchet, tell me. I want to know."

At this, Ratchet's helm snapped back up and he attempted to regain his composure, taking in a long vent and shuttering his optics for a few nanoclicks. It was easy to see the difficulty he was undertaking in voicing the trouble in his spark, but Solas was determined on understanding what it was his comrades were talking about. Ratchet didn't seem as enthusiastic, however, he respectfully answered anyway.

"We believed it was best not to tell you so soon after her...accident. We feared it would be too much for you to handle at one time..." there was hesitance here, Solas could hear it. Ratchet once again stole his optics away, his expression contorted in inner suffering. His optic slips tightly shut, he continued on. "During the fight...one of our own was seriously injured...Lero," it was here that Solas found he didn't want to hear any more.

"In his fighting, he recklessly strained his previous wounds and at some point was incapacitated. Our comrades tried protecting him, however, the damage had been done."

"You can't mean..." Solas didn't think he could finish his words. The truth was too sudden, and too striking to take in at one time. It felt as if a hot energon blade was slicing through him, straight down his middle. His vents refused to take in air properly and his tanks churned. Ratchet didn't appear any better off, for he kept his arms fast at his sides and held his lip plates tight. They both grew mute, neither brave enough to speak. Another one of their own...gone, in the shutter of the optic. How could this be happening? And so soon? What was Primus doing, allowing this on his creations?

Ratchet jerked, catching Solas' sight when he growled lowly. "I did all I could to revive him, but...he wouldn't come back to us. No matter what I did, his spark simply could no longer hold onto this world," his fist flew to strike the wall, startling all in the room. Captain Epps and Optimus now watched Ratchet, both surprised at his sudden show of anger. "I couldn't do anything to keep him here. I felt so helpless, so ignorant, so...angry," his servos hovered before him and he stared down at the scuffed knucklebolts.

"Lero is dead because of me."

No later than the next beating of Solas' spark had passed before Moonracer was crossing the room, grabbing her lover's servos with her own and forcing him to look at her. "Don't you dare say such things," she ordered sternly. "You are the best medic on Cybertron, and simply for the fact you could not save one life, you doubt your abilities? Ratchet...Ratchet look at me," she swerved and caught his gaze. "Not a single 'Bot here will say they wouldn't trust their lives in your servos. Lero was ready to join with the Matrix, and nothing you could have done would have reversed that."

"But I could have done bet-"

"No you couldn't have."

Others nodded or remained stoic in the echo of her comment. Solas, struck dumb in the quickness of everything colliding on him at once, swayed on his peds. His thoughts scrambled in his CPU to the point of a cranialache. Deep regret and despondence fluttered along with his already dark mood.

Since he could not drive a one single emotion from him, he did the first thing to come to his processor: he searched for his leaders' reactions. Rethalia Prime was but a statue, watching with careful sky-colored orbs at her fellow fembot and mech peer while she cradled Liora. Optimus bore a deep frown, one, that showed both inner strife and physical discomfort. Only the stillness of his frame kept him from being noticed, however, it was Solas' constant and steady gaze that gained his gaze in return. A silent question lay here, waiting. It took Sol a moment to collect his courage and incline his helm in answer.

Losing one of their already scarce fliers was a mighty blow to the Autobot faction. The Decepticons already owned the skies, and it seemed now that they held even more dominance now. It was no wonder Rainwing, another Autobot flier, was nowhere to be spotted. It was a great possibility she was recovering in solitude from losing a fellow winged Cybertronian. Solas knew, far too well, that all it took to break a being was to take them out at their center.

His own was lying far in the bowls of a military facility while a piece of Rainwing's had perished right before her own optics. Optimus must know of the events transpiring all around him, which would explain his worn state and fatigued stance. Even looking down on his creation Liora, there was a darker shadow there.

"Come on, I'm taking you somewhere private," Moonracer declared after speaking in whispers to Ratchet for a good click. While she guided her medic away, Solas caught himself digging his digits deeply into his palms. What right did the Decepticons have for taken yet another brother away? For continuing this war for far too long, even as their leader had perished? Where were their sparks now, if not rotting in their chambers? And yet, Solas was no saint either, taking leave inside a cubicle room while another Cybertronian deadsparked nearby.

It was killing him inside to feel worthless as he did now. If he was unable to assist a common ally, where was he in ability to protect a human? What good would his sacrifice bring if his legend was burned along the lives of the lost?

"We must look ahead, my fellow Autobots. We must not dwell on past, but instead learn from its lesson," Optimus spoke lowly; respectively as much bowing his humble crest. Solas didn't bother looking up, for he felt his left optic burning with the scar he would forever bare. He shut down his optics and acted as if he too were paying respects, and allowed himself to listen in the blindness.

"The Decepticons have not finished with ourselves as of yet, for their actions speak of a longer proposition. Instead, I am certain they will come again. Stronger, greater, and far well prepared," what he meant from this, Sol was unsure, and he didn't think he felt well from the hint of foreboding in his leader's speech. There was no more mercy. Not anymore.

Shifting occurred and from instinct, Solas' helm tilted toward the sound. "We need to prepare for the worst then. Meeting Russian politicians is not on my list of to-dos at the moment though," it had to be Epps. A change in atmosphere told Solas of the rising tension, and his frame stiffened slightly in preparation for the oncoming spat.

"Captain, Russia will be a beneficial ally if we are to need their aid. Nonetheless, for now, Optimus Prime's trip is merely for reassurance of their government," Rethalia commented smoothly.

"Yes, because Russians really need to be reassured," Epps retorted with a snort. This human usually was not one to speak so hotly to the Primes, or any Autobot for that manner. It seemed that the Cybertronian population was not the only to be suffering in the stress. In the black, Solas lifted his cranial unit where he suspected his leaders to be and he kept a stalwart expression.

"They are merely human, such as you Robert Epps. They need comfort as well," Hawktail piped in from the distance. "Such efforts of contact are necessary in maintaining a healthy trust between countries such as yourselves. It is not unlike your species to become restless."

"Enough. We are traversing to Russia next Earth day, and this is final," the mech Prime cut in curtly. A warning blared brightly within his vocal tone, one even Solas guessed he would back down from.

Abruptly, a servo touched his shoulderbolt, causing him to jerk and grab at what touched him. His reflexes gained a slimmer set of digits clamped inside his own, his scans already exploding forth from his systems. Throwing his arm out, he turned the holder's arm and locked it straight, leaving them vulnerable and struggling for control back of their limb. As soon as he turned his bicolored optics back on, the programming within his processor died down and he twisted his helm to the side. He knew not right now who this fembot was at first, but he trusted she was no threat. As such, he released her.

"There is no other greeting I would have predicted from a mech like yourself," Stratis, for he recognized her voice immediately, said with slight discomfort as she rubbed her shoulderbolt. "I assume you will be joining us to the signature's location." she needed no confirmation from him, for his optics locked on her own was enough. It must have sufficed her expectations, for she slowly motioned her cranial unit behind her and began to leave the thinning crowd of her comrades.

"Then follow me."

"Follow them. They will lead us to the Galvanizer."

"But, Master, how are we to be certain-?"

"I aided in the mission to retrieve the device myself, of course I would recognize the signature, you whelp," the growl was low enough to rattle the fembot's armor right off her frame. Its venomous bite made her cringe deep within her shoulderbolts, her spark beating frantically with the sound. She dare not meet his optics with hers, knowing it was near insane for any below him to find they held the privilege in staring into their lifeless depths. It would appear to any other soldier milling about that she was but a youngling beside this massive Cybertronian she called 'Master'. She was smaller, slimmer, with a far more fragile frame than himself.

The way she ducked under his scrutiny betrayed the fact that she indeed feared him, and she was in her right to do so. He soared over any of his followers, possessing a hearty forty feet in height, with a broad, scarred chassis that lifted and fell in a steady rhythm. Swooping piles of armoring inches thick covered him from helm to toelink, masking his protoform under shoulder mounts that rose higher than his cranial unit. Stormy silver, almost a black in appearance, collected at the base of his neck and fanned out along the contours of his spinal support before slimming down and becoming more intricate in design. Hex's mixture of Cybertronian and Earth alloys made it possible to grant the mech with pelvic armoring outfitted with subspace pockets. What the overlord kept in them, no 'Con needed, or wanted for that matter, to know.

Following the length of his body further, one would be in awe at the sheer amount of time that had to of been sacrificed towards the shaping and creation of his legs and peds. They folded in on themselves in the back, curling inward as the rest stretched wide and sharply banked at the front of his lower shins. At his ankle struts a series of gears and shocks had been interwoven snugly behind a protective cup shielding his Achilles cable from harm. His toelinks and heelped splayed out in an act of balancing his larger bulk.

Hanging down from his shoulderbolts were two arms that remain concocted of a powerful set of wires and hydraulic mechanisms. These flexed and hissed when he crossed them, revealing his bracers. They too were overlapped with a volley of strong materials, made even more so by the influence of the AllSpark shard planted in his core. On his right wrist sit an idle weapon seeming to of been created by Unicron himself. Its berth stretched a good foot across the nose, while the barrel flashed a dangerous silver in the low light. Armoring crossed over the top of the cannon, sharp as an energon blade at the front. In their subspace, there was even a short energon sword, ready to slice into the hide of the unsuspecting enemy.

Scorching red optics, crimson of the darkest hues, stared menacingly into the screens before him, as if their very presence upset him. His sharply sculpted helm shaded the already dramatic shadows of his faceplates, the front hanging low over his foreplate. Bulky, experienced digits tapped over his forearm while he continued listening to his Second In Command's report. She herself tried keeping her composure around him, but the weldings along her spinal support and sides made it difficult to forget the true power at his disposal.

"Our original target, Fera Lennox-"

"Fera Lennox? Who is this, another wretched, humanoid pest?" those ruby optics turned down on her, glowing with a seething hatred. Of course he despised the dominant race of the planet. He'd been terminated by them before. Multiple times actually. Their designations were faint in her files, but she doubted their importance. Their attentions should have been set on only one, where his were spread across the entire species. He wished for their cranial units as trophies adorning his ship's hull.

"She is under guardianship of the Autobot faction, for her importance with them has of great use to our cause. They desire to keep her and the relic away from us. She is needed as the Key for the device, seeing as none but her have apparent control over it," the fembot went on as her leader turned away and began studying the viewing screens again. "The Stone of Primus is the core of the Galvanizer, thus, we require the female."

"How long have you known of her importance?"

"The Autobot have shown considerable interest in her for some six quartexes now-"

"Six quartexes?" her Master ripped around and towered over her, using his superior height against her as he swelled in rage. Other soldiers of the room apprehensively paid witness to their former and current leaders' conversation, as it had leapt greatly in volume. The fembot cringed at the outburst and the spindly legs sticking from her spinal support bowed around her protectively. Her Master's expression was blatantly angered, his armor vibrating lowly. "If she is of importance to our cause, then I question your actions in retrieving her. We as Decepticons are of tactical ruthlessness and provide no error in obtaining what it is we desire. If perhaps this human truly held meaning to our cause, she would be in my grasp," he lifted a servo and clenched it.

Nervous murmuring sounded around Arachnid and she darted her gaze around, anxiously searching the faceplates of her fellow peers. Like the cowards they were, they refused to speak up in her honor and defend her choices over these past Earth months. Though, she highly doubted their intervention, for she'd been quite the brutal and strict leader herself. This must have been entertaining to them.

It was true that they should have been in control of the human by now, but while she remained in Autobot servos, her condition was unknown.

"I admit I could have done better in acquiring the female, however complications have arisen that have slowed our progress-"

"I do not wish for your impudent excuses you sniveling cretin!" he bellowed. Arachnid's mandible snapped shut and her body tensed under his glaring. There was a warning here, she could see it clearly in the way he glowered at her. Carefully, she backed away a step and raised her arms close to her chassis in preparation to defend herself; as if she could if he so wished to harm her. "I sincerely hope you recall the state of my former Second In Command proceeding you. Do not believe yourself important enough in my vision to be indisposable. Many vie for a position such as yours - ones whom do not use excuses towards me such as you ceaselessly do."

Arachnid once again backed down, though her processor was flaring to life in rebuke. Her glossa burned for the chance to defend herself and her decisions as the former leader, and yet, she knew she was asking for a beating if she so opened her lip plates. Even with her leader refusing excuses, they were all she had to offer him about their progress so far. The Autobots held the Keeper to the Galvanizer, and so if they were to obtain the device, both factions would be at a standoff. A set of gleaming, serrated pairs of daggers in Arachnid's heelpeds silently slid into the open in her caution. What else could she tell him? Lies would surely be worse than any excuse.

"A great number of our warriors are still recuperating from our previous battle with the Autobots and I feel as though they are not yet ready to take action again," she attempted. This comment only received another snarl from her Master and a pair of deathly unsatisfied optics. Faster than she could react, his arm shot out and snatched her by the neck, slamming her into the back wall. Instantly she was on the attack, thrashing and struggling violently against the digits clamped around her oral tube. She felt armor slicing under her sharp digit tips and saw the spark picking up when she scored them over his frame or their bodies clashed.

Hissing picked up from her, scorching her oral tube and vibrating her whole body while she continued to fight. Eventually, she knew she was outmatched, as his grip failed to lift a byte. Along with his incredible strength, his bulk and overall imperviousness to pain allowed him to pin the fembot and hold her up off the ground. He leaned in, a sadistic grin spreading over his dangerous lip plates.

"Their condition is of insignificant importance compared to the depth of our goal," Galvatron's voice had grown so low that Arachnid was astounded it did not break. It had become something that was beyond this mech; a newer, far eviller force had taken control of her Master's frame. "They are warriors and shall behave as such." his optics narrowed, "Perhaps you shall be example to their arrogance."

Dangling, Arachnid panicked, and her legs shoved up between them and planted the knives deep into his tank.

Beside the grunt from the massive mech, no other reaction showed from her retaliation against him. Everything went still, not a brave sound to be heard. Soldiers and warriors alike stared, dumbstruck, as energon trickled around the berth of Arachnid's stiletto daggers. She drew her horrified features from them to scan up and come noseplate to noseplate with Galvatron.

Anger boiled deep within his optics to the point where they flooded over in a malicious scarlet glow. An entity beyond that of the true Megatron broke the fembot apart piece by piece with but only his gaze. The shadows across his features darkened to where a storm raged violently over his faceplates.

Terrified and regretting what she'd done the moment it happened, Arachnid looked downward again to where her heelpeds remain stuck inside her leader. Sickly bluish-yellow energon beaded onto the floor, pooling in a swirling puddle of marbled life. She knew it was infected with the poison of death and rotted, degenerated energon that had remained far too long in deadsparked systems. The stench floating from it was pungent and putrid smell, one that caused most to back away in apprehension and disgust. Contact with diseased energon would evoke sickness within the mech or fembot's frame in mere joors. Worst case of energon poisoning would be a slow and painful deadspark.

Arachnid's stilettoed heelpeds yanked her knives free and drew her legs upward so to not come into further contact with the rancid material. Her Master on the other case, was not fazed for an astrosecond, actually increasing his hold on her jugular with shocking intensity. As she struggled and clawed at his digits, her optics popped wide, he scowled down on her. He wouldn't be planning on ending her life cycle, could he? She was valuable - an asset! Why would he kill her, of all 'Cons, when she was responsible for more than he had accomplished in the many decacycles of his previous leadership? Not to mention, she was his second in command!

Would she turn out to be another Starscream, caught in an endless circle of beatings and pleas of mercy? The thought made her angered and sick at the same time, her appalled processor forcing her to fight on. No, she would be no mech's plaything. She was far stronger, and more intelligent than that sky dweller, and she would be blasted to Pit if she allowed herself that degrading treatment. However, the longer she hang here, ever more growing weaker, she knew she had no choice. Now was not the time for defiance.

Growing limp, Arachnid quit thrashing and simply hung. Galvatron leaned incredibly closer, nearly kissing her. His vents produced hot, burning cycles on her armor, making her feel as though she was to melt under their touch. His optics went on forever, into oblivion and further, growing darker the longer she stared, transfixed.

"Remember your place Arachnid. The order I give is law here, and shall be carried out as so no matter the cost. There is no hesitance accepted here, injured warriors or not. We do not create feeble excuses," he spat quietly. "I am Master, Alpha, and Lord, and you shall respect me as such. Compute?" he waited a split nanoclick and then lifted Arachnid by her neck, slamming her into the wall with his brazen oral sheets flashing. "Compute?!"

"Compute," Arachnid managed from her strangled vocal processor.

Galvatron then threw her aside, sending her body scraping along the floor and through his dirtied energon. It's feel singed her slightly on contact and made her circuits buzz. A small amount touched her glossa, the taste of it a bitter repugnance of sweet energon tainted with spoiled rust and other sickly material.

Shaking, she gathered herself on her elbowjoints, her side and chassis dripping with the energon she spilt from her Master. Gazes of soldiers and the very being whom had strangled her moments before stared blatantly at her now as she lay, wondering what it was she was going to do next. But there she stay, curled up on herself as she swept her gaze around in disgrace and embarrassment. Those long appendages she prized so dearly sticking from her spinal support curved over her almost cautiously, though they bowed in submission. She did not say so, though it was clear enough, that she yielded.

Before any could speak, another figure came into the scene cloaked in violet and grey. Their presence was shrouded in a misty darkness until they switched their vivid red-amber optics upon their leader and former, their expression surprisingly indifferent. Definitely fembot, the Cybertronian was equipped with a thinner, more flexible set of ashen armor that curved over her form firmly and gave her a shapely figure. Purple color peeked through the silver and black, while a layered mask covered the lower half of her faceplates and hooded her neck and some of her upper chassis. The baggy material folded as she gazed down at Arachnid, those cold, calculating orbs remembering closely.

Megatron snapped his attention from his fembot second in command to the newer one standing patiently at the door. His voice was no longer the graveled sound as before, but was merely aggravated. "What is it Nightbird?" he demanded, his fists clenching. Nightbird's flickering sight turned on her leader, observing and constantly watching.

"Those in the retrieval group are ready," her tone was the same as the Earth animal viper, which was calm and collected, but oh so very deadly.

"Good. Gather them in the main lobby for launch, I will be there shortly. And take this," he waved his cannon towards Arachnid carelessly, "with you."

Nightbird nodded and started for Arachnid before the fembot snarled and ripped away, stealing herself to her peds and stalking from the room with all optics trailing after. Her broken dignity shone blindingly beneath her angry exterior when she shoved pass the soldiers blocking the door.

It was here she knew her plans were scrapped and her original intentions fragged. Megatron was no mindless being, whom she expected him to be upon revival. Instead, Galvatron came into being in his place, as well as being far stronger and sparkless in his actions. This leader cared not for his warriors, including that of his second in command. Anyone was replaceable here.

Snorting, she whipped into the wash racks and slammed a fist into the wall as the mildly scalding liquid poured over her. There was to be no leading over him. Galvatron was controlled by something else - something otherworldly. It was out of her league and out of her possession that she may lead again with such a weapon by her side. The only way she may once again be the fembot she once was, was to strike down the very statue she had built. But how? How could she destroy a Master capable of her destruction? There had to be a way. She smiled.

There is always a way.

Our little spider is such a loony.

But isn't that why we love her? :D

I've missed you guys, and I hope you all missed me ^_^

I just couldn't help torturing Sol a little longer,

just for a bit.

But let's hope something better'll come up :3

Oh, and don't forget to vote on the poll, which you can find on my page, showcasing some truly wonderful FanArt of OTSH :D

They're open from now until chapter 2 is put up, so act fast!

Thank you all once again, and I hope to hear what you guys think!

*Chapter Inspiration: Without You= Breaking Benjamin*