Loves and hugs for everyone!

I just feel...giddy today...don't know why :D

Anywho, lot's of bad stuff happening,

You know with Fera and Sol and such...

but...

Ya. That's our drama here in OTSH.

XD

Thanks to BigBewbs for your entry into my FanArt contest last year!

It's taken this long for you prize, but I hope I do your character, Vanessa, justice! :D

Enjoy!

Of The Spark And Heart

Part 2

Chapter 64

Chains rattled.

The shadows lurched, prowling the walls and crawling along the floor until reaching the ring of light. A flickering bulb hung loosely from a wire on the ceiling, barely keeping from snapping by a few measly wires. A crackling buzz hummed in the air around the thing while it swung slowly, hypnotically, from side to side. The barriers making up the obsidian space wrapped around in a complete metallic, gory beauty, complete with bolts lining either side of the jagged seams. Busted shelves, rusting away and falling apart by lack of use, held a thin layer of dust. More particles floated about on the stuffy air through the beam of sickly glow.

Scuffs lined the floor in every visible space. Charcoal-black doused the life of the room into the darkness of evil. Anything and everything about the crooked walls, groaning ceilings, rustling chains, and tar-filled air spoke of death or torture. Perhaps that was why it made a good holding cell.

A single form settled in the honorary spot in the center of the floor, beneath the spotlight. They were brought down to their kneebolts on the worn floors. Their arms were restrained behind them at the small of their bent spinal support, resting lightly on their heelpeds. Two more lines of chains scaled behind them higher up on the wall, connected to makeshift cuffs that had been welded to the surface. The links inside the cuffs scrapped along the inner curve of them as the figure attached to their end roused.

She was a petite figure, no larger than a cyberling just in their first stage. Her armor, already thin, was covered with scratches and green stains from the grass outside the flying prison. Dents lined her arms, chassis, and legs where she had been grabbed, kicked someone, or gotten hit herself. The white of her paint was already faded under the luminescence of the weak radiance above. The purple had nearly been scuffed away to expose the silver beneath in her previous struggles.

Vents, fluttering in exhaustion, revved to life in the gloom. Clouds of dust exploded forth in a rush of material. She coughed violently in her spot, her frame doubling over her legs until her helm almost touched the floor. A small laceration on her shoulderbolt dropped a splatter of energon next to her helm and she jumped up, cringing in pain. How long had she been unconscious? The coldness bit at her vulnerable silhouette. The spotlight gave her no sense of warmth, and if anything, it was colder than the expanse of dark beyond the barrier.

Taking a look around, the fembot grew further and further anxious the more she saw. Darkness, shadows, cobwebs, rust, and cracking walls. From behind she heard the noise of metal chains and she whipped around against the pull of her binds. Her optics widened as she craned her neck around as far as she could. She saw the chains and her cycling systems released a trembling vent. A slight tug gave her the absolute definitive that she wasn't going to break free. A heavy blanket settled over her shoulderbolts, making her tanks clench and her spark patter in fear. The fembot turned back around, staring off while she restlessly worked at trying to slip her restrains. Her servos were tiny enough that they had had to wind coil around her wrists, but maybe if she wriggled them loose a bit she could get out of them. But then what? What would she do if and only if she got free?

A soft sound picked up from directly in front of her and she stopped dead. The shadows were moving, bending, contorting around a shape by the opposite wall. There was no seeable detail about this object, nor any other source of luminescence to use, but when those two teal optics slowly came into existence, she felt her spark soar. A nervous edge picked at her core and she lifted on her kneebolts. As she leaned forward, the chains pulled taunt on her wrists, keeping her from inclining too far. Her searching optics flitted across the outline of her Guardian, trying to make out his features. All she did see was his optics and the faint shimmer of dried energon on his armor and faceplates. It was at that sight that she truly grew concerned.

A groan split Sol's vocal capacitor and Fera perked up, both happy that he was awake and worried that he was in pain. He coughed as she had to expel the dust from his vents before shifting in place.

"Solas," Fera hissed through the dim, vying to get his attention. She felt her arms straining in the effort she made when she pushed onward, but she ignored her discomfort in sake of her Guardian's. "Solas Kaon, are you ok?"

Another moan came from him, though if it were by his frame or his voice, she couldn't be sure. He rolled his helm on his neck, using his shoulderbolt to wipe away the energon on his lip plates. "Yes..." he croaked after shuttering his foggy optics a few times. "I am fine. Are you alright?"

"Yeah...yeah I'm good," Fera answered, sitting back on her heelpeds. Solas shifted, grunting slightly as he fought to right his legs to sit in front of him. His arms had been tied behind him as well and that kept his movements limited. Giving a sigh, Fera's shoulderbolts slouched and her helm bowed. "This is bad. This whole situation is horrible."

"What part of it is your favorite?" Solas joked in bitter humor. Fera frowned, falling to the side of her hipbolt to take the weight off of her numb legs.

A chill ran down her spinal support from a sudden draft and Fera tucked into closer to herself. "I had never believed..." Fera trailed off, not completely sure she could finish. Solas let her take her time and stayed quiet. "Titanios was our friend," she went on after a moment, "so why would he betray us like this? He was good to us, and he'd saved me before. Why would he trick us now of all times, after going through all that, and defecting from the Decepticons?"

"A mech has his reasons," Solas answered in wrecked discontent. "He left us as easily as he left the Decepticons. I can't say I am all that surprised he would leave us so simply, but," Solas paused, his faceplates contemplative as he rolled his shoulderbolts, "Titanios must have been planning this from the beginning, to bring you back here. Now that he and they know your importance, he must have become frightened and brought you to them as retribution to mend his ties with Galvatron."

Fera could understand why someone would want to fix a broken partnership with Galvatron, as he was an enemy she could say she'd never wish to have. The mech was the walking incarnate of the Devil itself. Still, Fera could not completely convince herself that this was real. Titanios had been too nice, too convincing for her to believe that it had all been a lie. There was no possible way he could be completely indifferent towards her and the Autobots. Unless he hadn't a spark in his chassis, this couldn't be. And yet, the thought of it hurt. He'd betrayed them, feelings or not. He'd betrayed their trust. He'd betrayed their promise.

Fera wiggled her digits, testing the feeling in them as they came from a tingling lack of sensation. "I just can't understand how he could do this. It doesn't make sense. None of this adds up-"

"Shush," Solas abruptly whispered, hoarsely. "I can hear someone approaching."

And not a few sparkbeats later -four to be exact, but who's counting?-, the door to the room opened. The barrier slid aside with a neglected screech of metal. Shadows billowed out of the way as a hulking figure stepped into the sheen of black. Immediately Fera knew who this being was. Merely from the drop of temperature and the stench of stale mildew wafting from his entrance, it had been clear. Instant terror registered inside of her and she shoved herself backwards by her peds until her spinal support was flush up against the wall. Two other figures stepped in on either side of the leader, both mechs themselves. Their commander made his way along the rim of the circle of light overhelm of Fera. Tendrils crept along the path following behind his wide peds, the floor lightly scorched wherever he stepped. But it was not from burning that they did so. It was an inky print of decay.

He took his sweet time in stalking the very perimeter separating darkness from light. When he did eventually stop, he turned to stand tall directly before her. Fera cautiously drug her legs to tuck against her aft, her optics boring distrustfully into the Decepticon. His servos were held behind him, but unlike Fera and Sol, it was by his own power. A cruel and merciless grin carved into his harsh faceplates. Those scarlet optics of his watched from his curtain of artificial night. It was almost as if he were afraid to step into the brilliance. Those brought in with him took up each side. One, was unfamiliar. However the other was a mech she knew very, very well.

Fera's scowl deepened when she found Titanios standing at the gruesome leader's right shoulderbolt. Of course, the traitor's expression was unreadable, and that made her disappointment in him rise. Why. She only wished she knew why.

"You know who I am, fembot," the leader rumbled in Cybertronian. Fera withheld a shiver at the grating sound of his voice and began kicking her peds at the floor in attempts to rise. It did her no good but to press her further into the wall. Her motion slowed as she tried to find a hold for her peds in the seams of the floor.

"Galvatron," she answered in a failed attempt at keeping her voice strong.

"Smart creature, this one. She learns quickly. Good."

Fera found what she was looking for and managed to get a purchase on the ground, letting her use the wall as support while she stood. Once up, she raised her mandible in both defiance and as means to see the mech's optics. "I didn't need your approval."

Galvatron chuckled a laugh laden in grisly sludge. "And a feisty one as well," he noted. Switching to perfect English, Galvatron went on. "Believe me well dear Fera, that my calm demeanor may not fool you. Pray you do not antagonize my less desirable persona." It was a threat. Fera clenched her trembling servos.

"As long as you cooperate," a stormy grey and silver mech on Galvatron's other side continued, catching Fera's attention with a snap of the helm, "there will not be repercussions."

"You do what you want with me," she snapped viciously. "You won't get anything." This was a new side to her. She was usually shyer than this, and less willing to face such entities like this one. However, it was Titanios' betrayal, mixed in with her injuries, and the instinctual defense of being cornered that pumped some unseen will into her system, granting her this abrupt courage. It was out of her character. This fierceness wasn't at all what she was usually. And she liked it. It felt...right.

"We were not speaking towards yourself," Galvatron sneered. He turned, as did Titanios and the other mech, exposing Solas behind. The Guardian was now on his peds as well, glowering in icy coldness at the spinal supports of the mechs. Fera's resolved broke a bit as the realization dawned on her. Galvatron's helm twisted towards the new silver mech to his right. "Platon, if you would do the honors."

"Lord Galvatron," the mech recognized respectfully, dipping his helm at his leader. He started away, with Fera's anxious gaze watching him. Solas tensed, the chains holding his arms rattling away. He yanked on them a few times while he glared at Platon. He looked like a cornered animal. Perhaps that's what they were now. From the way Solas looked and Fera felt, she wouldn't doubt they certainly appeared like it.

Galvatron's vents revved and Platon froze to the spot. "Platon, stand down," he ordered suddenly. "I do believe it to actually be Titanios' right to interrogate his former comrade here... If he is loyal as he claims to take the task." A smile sunk into place on his faceplates while he faced the one to his right. Titanios returned the gaze, pausing to lock optics with Galvatron as Platon returned obediently to them. Fera's frame was buzzing with anticipation while she played witness to what was before her. Would he do it? Would he truly go that far? As he switched his sights to her, she silently pled through that connection that he leave Solas be. Her servos twirled into fists at her spinal support, shaking in unrestrained helplessness. If Titanios had a spark of goodness in him, he would walk away now.

Titanios stole away his optics and began walking at Solas.

"Titanios, stop!" Fera shouted at his spinal support. She leapt forward, the chains holding her wrenching her in reverse. He didn't miss a step, which made the disbelief rise as bubbling lava through Fera's lines. She began to struggle by squirming in her cuffs to loosen them. Metal grated against her bracers as the cuffs dug deep into the sensitive layer of her protoform. The pain was ignored as she shoved her peds into the floor to pull at her restraints. With fright clear on her faceplates, Fera's mandible rose to flash the image of Titanios standing a foot from the line Solas could not go past. Guttural snarls echoed menacingly from Sol while the pair stared each other down. Fera couldn't see Titanios' faceplates, but she didn't think she wanted to. "Titanios-!"

"Fera let him do it!" Solas barked, causing her to fall into silence. "If you trust me, you won't say a word." The Guardian flicked his gaze around Titanios' shoulderbolt to single onto Fera. She stopped, frozen by that expression. There was no longer need for words. That one look told it all. Solas was telling her this was real. And maybe she needed that extra push, because right now, this all seemed but a messy nightmare. It slammed everything on her, almost throwing her to her kneebolts again. Nausea climbed into her throat. She was scared. And so was he.

Titanios, without warning, thrust his kneebolt skyward into Solas' midsection. Solas crumpled, his optics wide, and Fera fought back a gasp. The clang of armor on armor was deafening as Titanios slammed the back of his bracer against the side of Sol's helm. As her Guardian fell to his kneebolts, Fera released a stifled cry. She couldn't hold back her horror, even if Solas wished her to. Titanios proceeded to sweep low and hammer his fist into the center of Sol's core.

"Stop," she murmured softly, unable to hide her fear any longer. Titanios, unaware of her words, backed up a step and threw out his leg to slam into the side of Sol's cranial unit. The mech slumped sideways, shoulderbolts sagging and helm rolling limply. When Fera stared at him, shaking slightly, his battered frame shifted. His faceplates rose, exposing the welt of his cheekplate. And the shadows parted from him like a curtain, showcasing the true damage dealt to him. Fera drew in a choking, sharp vent into her tight chassis in seeing the energon trail trickling down the corner of his lip plates. Another stream of the ethereal blue liquid formed a tiny river down Sol's front from a busted vent.

But the expression he held was of stalwart determination. Furious, stubborn, and helpless to fight back, Solas merely knelt there, ready to take as much damage Titanios dealt. The fire of his spirit rose in a blazing glaze across every visible inch of his being. No matter how broken, battered, or how many pieces they would split him into, he would take it. He'd take it all. For her. For the God-forsaken mission.

Fera pushed off the floor and used the wall as support to help her stand. The silver mech next to Galvatron leant in beside his leader and the massive overlord inclined some. Fera drug her heavy gaze from Solas and bore it into Galvatron, who was watching her with something between curiosity and derision. Fera could hear Solas being pounded across the room. But she wouldn't allow herself to look. Anger boiled through her lines, blooming as a raging flame across her fluttering vents. Cycles of hot, putrid air circled into her systems, increasing when Galvatron continued to stare at her intently. The silver mech moved back again from Galvatron, looking at Fera as well. She shifted uncertainly when a crude smile spread across Galvatron's faceplates.

"Titanios, stand down," Galvatron ordered abruptly as the traitor finished grinding the back of Sol's helm into the wall. Titanios removed himself to allow Solas to fall forward until his chains snapped tight. Black and red scuffs now adorned the grey surface were Sol had been smeared. Titanios turned at attention to Galvatron and his leader peered back at him over his shoulderbolt. "Brandish your weapon."

Titanios nodded and cocked back his arm. The plates of his bracer whirled around in place, the barrel of a blaster jumping into existence amongst the tornado of armor. The blaster locked into ready position with a definite click and Titanios pumped the ammunition chamber. With a single, brief swing, the nose of the gun was pointed straight for Solas' helm.

Fera leapt forward against her restraints before she could stop herself. Solas merely tightened his mandible and pressed his lip plates into a straight line, staring the nose straight down the barrel. There was no fear in his broken state. Those optics of his were alive in fiery defiance while they trained on Titanios daringly. Though his frame was hunched, his helm was held high.

The clear, audible sound of a blaster warming up struck Fera's hearing and she jerked. "No, don't!" she yelled at her former comrade. Solas' body started and he lifted on his kneebolts.

"Let him do it!" Sol bellowed. The words nearly knocked Fera off her standing and stripped her of air. "Let the bastard do it!" Titanios glanced down at Solas and the Guardian bared his oral sheets menacingly, his gaze dark. "I dare you. Do it. I want you to." When nothing happened, he leapt at Titanios, making the mech tense up. "DO IT!"

Titanios hesitated for a fraction of a second before lifting his blaster and rapping it across Sol's faceplates. A spray of energon flew to hit the wall in a gruesome confetti.

Fera began a new round of tugging on her cuffs, trying desperately to free herself. "Stop, Titanios! You're going to kill him!" she shouted. She turned for Galvatron. "If you kill him, you'll have nothing against me!" Her plea fell on deaf audios.

"Do it! You rust-ridden vexpa, do it!" Solas snarled as he snapped back on the rebound of Titanios' hit. Solas went so far as to spit at Titanios, sending energon flying at the traitorous mech. "You cowardly spawn of Pit, you haven't got the ball bearings to do it!"

"No, Titanios, don't!"

"Fera for fragging sake, let me die!"

"ENOUGH!"

The demand clapped across the still air, shattering the rising suspense with a thunderous attack on Fera's audios. They fritzed in and out of focus, leaving her to drop low and thrust her helm between her kneebolts to protect them. They pressed firmly to the sides of her cranial unit, trying -and failing- to shield her sensitive audios. Three thudding strikes to the ground made Fera's body quiver, acting as her one and only warning. Before she could react, a massive servo clamped around the back of her neck.

A squeak split her lip plates before it was cut off, though she couldn't even hear herself, and she was lifted swiftly up into the air. Fera's frame hung freely and without grounding, leaving her to tread nothing but the emptiness. Her oral sheets clenched and her optics closed. Pain soared down the length of her spinal relay to the tips of her toelinks. Fera wanted to grab at Galvatron's hand to free herself, but the bind on her wrists kept them at the base of her spinal support.

A black shadow engulfed Fera as Galvatron leaned in closer to her, his ghastly red optics alight. "You ever more ware my patience, underling. Your incessant screams for your comrade only increase our lax nature to deadspark him if needs necessary. As of now, we shall kill him without mercy, simply to quench my sense of boredom. However," his features twisted into a shady flare as his optics raked mercilessly down her front, "I admire your boldness. I have yet to find a creature prowling this vessel with a spark such as yours."

"Get off me, you disgusting excuse of life," Fera bit lowly, her optics locking with Galvatron's. The Stone at the base of her collar began to emit a low, humming thrum in her excitement, lighting up Galvatron's gnarled faceplates in all their ghastly glory. Those optics that had been stripping away the layers of her armor to sink their venomous stakes into her very spark shot downward, landing on the Stone of Primus. All attentions of his aimed for the Stone now and Fera kept her lip plates hard with stubborn discontent.

Galvatron lifted his free servo, hovering it over Fera's chassis while he watched the rays of the Stone. "Ah," he vented. "A Stone of Primus. The rumoring was true: you are a Keeper. This undertaking will have quite the benefit for my cause..." he trailed off as he brought his servo closer. Fera's cycling sped up as it inched closer. When it finally came within a vent's distance of her plates, Fera's optics rolled into the back of her helm. Her frame tensed, pulsing with a debilitating sense of utter death and nothingness. A power, unrestrained and laced in black malevolence in its purest, oldest form, made crashing waves against the very fivers making up her being. It filled her until the seams of herself bulged, ready to burst.

However, when Galvatron placed his servo over the Stone, his digits spanning well past the width of collar armor, a flash of electricity sparked outward. Arches of blue lightning scrambled across Galvatron's servo, smoke crackling through the spaces of his digits. The Decepticon roared and yanked his servo away. At the same time, he dropped Fera in the floor. She landed hard onto the unforgiving ground, slamming her shoulderbolt into the steel and sending a jarring sensation across her upper spinal support. Fera felt her helm bounce, causing her sights to go fuzzy and her processor to waver. The aftereffects of whatever Galvatron had done to her frame began to take their toll and Fera curled up, moaning. She could hear Sol's voice in the distance, calling for her.

Galvatron took a step back from the form at his peds, cupping his servo and cursing in Cybertronian. She turned her faceplates up at him, her features laden with weariness. The towering mech had his damaged servo grabbed in his other, pressed close to his spark. He was growling as he tended to his charred digits.

"Blasted fembot!" he snapped, making her flinch. "What right have you to strike at a god?" his servos balled into fists when Fera tried lifting the upper half of her body. With a good push of her elbowjoint, she managed to get up on her aft, her legs bent flat on either side of her body. She expected him to hit her, and her body flinched as he raised the back of his servo.

Despite his threatening stance, Fera felt no strike. When she relaxed, she found Galvatron leering at her viciously, sending a chill down her spinal relay that made her tremble. "You shall know your place soon enough," Galvatron rumbled, his tone all but forgiving. "See to it that you learn it."

Whatever she had done, she was proud of it, and therefore she wouldn't speak. She knew her voice would break, with all the events overwhelming her at once, and so it might have been wiser to be mute. Galvatron snarled and whipped around on his heelpeds. The silver mech took his place at his leader's side and they started for the door.

"Titanios," Galvatron barked. "We are leaving."

The obedient mech retracted his blaster from its position aimed for Solas and began after his peers. Without a glance back at his former friends, he exited the room and closed the door behind them, leaving Solas and Fera to fall in stark silence.

They watched after their departed captors with varied expressions. Fera's was of uncertainty and fright. Solas', of anger and scorn. The atmosphere was tinged in acidic malice, climbing the walls as vines and creeping around Fera and her Guardian in a life-depleting vice grip. The pressure around Fera built, bringing with it an icy boldness that had her shivering uncontrollably. Now that there was no longer a reason to keep up her act, she felt her entire world come down in a crashing burn. Her walls crumbled and her processor fell to chaos. But yet, there was one thing left that could keep her whole, that could hold her together. Solas.

She turned to him, worry heavy in her optics. He was still staring at the door, as if he could sear a hole right through it. Despair crept along Fera's throat, threatening to come out as a whimper. She withheld that, if only to hold onto this moment of peace. Only a moment before, there had been deafening noise. There had been words and screaming and fighting to fill up the quiet. Now that those distractions were gone, Fera and Solas would be left to the mercy of their processors. Their imagination could fill the time and she dreaded that more than perhaps Galvatron himself. Fearing the still, Fera gathered all her courage and beat down her self-pity to speak.

"Solas-?"

"You should have let him do it," the mech interrupted. He turned his glazed optics from the door to her. The sight of them shocked Fera, and she went frigid. "You should have let Titanios shoot me. If you had, I would be useless to them. There wouldn't be anything left to use against you."

Fera shuttered and unshuttered her optics at him, disbelieving. She doubted herself that she what was hearing was right. "You wanted me to...let him..." she couldn't finish the sentence, half understanding of it herself. The words weren't registering correctly. Solas had wanted to die?

"Exactly," Solas said blankly, without emotion. "It would have been better for the both of us. You should have let him do it."

"No!" she suddenly yelled without warning, swiveling her legs beneath her to stand on her kneebolts. "How could you tell me to let them kill you? Are you insane?"

"Are you?!" he countered back. "They would have deadsparked me, then and there, quick and simple. That's one less Autobot they could have in captivity and use against the cause."

"The cause this, the cause that, I don't care about all that!" Fera shouted hotly. "You're telling me to let him kill you. Do you know what that means?" Fera broke off and cursed under her vents. If Solas was gone...if Titanios had shot him...Fera would have been all alone here. Why was that so familiar? Her helm turned away and her optics focused on the stability of the floor. Don't cry. Don't cry. "You're not thinking right, that's all. Next time you have to fight and keep fighting until you get free. We'll get out of here."

Solas' chains rattled as he pulled at them with a hard jerk. Fera turned up her optics and winced at the vision of pain it must have caused him to do that. "I'm processing fine," he spat. "You aren't. If you understood the importance of this mission, you would have let them shoot me right through the helm! You should have let him do it and said nothing about it. Don't let them see emotion, that's what they want."

"Is it because I'm a 'Keeper'? That I have this weird thing around my neck?" she demanded harshly, nodding her helm at her collar where the Stone sat. Her features softened then, breaking though she had told herself she wouldn't. "Would you have done it?" Fera murmured shakily, lifting her faceplates again. Tears stung at her optics, daring to spillover down her cheekplates. "Would you have let them shoot me and pretended not to care?"

Solas' frame loosened. His optics relented and his optic ridges burrowed into them in something besides anger. His fury visibly melted, and the thrill of his flustered vents lowered until they returned to a normal cycle. The drying energon caked to his chin and chassis let the remaining life drip off and platter onto the floor at his kneebolts. Fera ripped her gaze away and doubled over her kneebolts in attempts to hide her tears.

What was she doing, crying in front of him? She was acting ridiculous. Weak. Solas would never break down like this in front of her or the other Autobots, so what right had she to do it? Wracking shudders took hold of her, though she fought to keep them under. Tempered grief stole her, leaving her vulnerable and fragile. Right here, lying as a shattered being in the worlds, she wished she could be bigger and stronger like Solas. Maybe then she could do more. But all she could do was cry and want to be close to her Guardian again. She needed his arms around her to chase her fears away. She needed his warmth to expel this cold from her ripped, open wounds. If he died, she could never feel that again.

No life was worth throwing away like that, even if it was for the Stone of Primus.

"I couldn't," the unforgettable voice said gently. Fera sat up again, her wet optics finding her Guardian, gazing at her, a tiny grin on his faceplates. "I couldn't ever. They would have to of killed me too." He suddenly laughed a short, dry laugh and tilted his helm backwards. His optics shuttered and his faceplates lowered. It was only when he opened his teal orbs again that Fera realized with a jolt that he was crying too.

"You're my friend Fera, no matter what you think. The worlds hold no meaning higher than that of yours to me. This universe could end and leave us alone, but I would be alright with that, because you would be there with me. We would be alone together. And that would be ok," he said.

Fera stared at him, unable to do anything other. Surprise was the first thing to come to her thoughts when she heard her Guardian speak. He'd never said anything like that to her before. At least, not in this form.

She swallowed back her uncertainty and allowed herself to fall back onto her aft. Her spinal support laid against the wall and her helm made a little plinking noise when it reclined. Lubricant tears rolled down the sides of her faceplates, running along the cables of her neck before seeping into her armor. She let them come, grateful for a chance to finally let go. Her tanks were clenched and her energon was buzzing. She couldn't find the energy to appear strong anymore. Already the fabric of herself was unwinding, the thread fraying at the edges.

Could it already be too late? Was their mission compromised? Was this it? Titanios betraying them, along with Galvatron promising to do anything to get her to spill Autobot information, all wrought havoc on her tattered spark.

"Don't ever do it again," Fera said as her optics shuttered closed. She knew Solas was listening. "Don't ever tell me to let him kill you again. I don't ever want to be alone like that." She fell into the effects of recharge, though the room promised nightmares. Maybe this was all a nightmare. She hoped it was, for the sake of them all.

It was all a nightmare.

Platon followed his leader out of the room holding their prisoners, taking his spot at the Decepticon overlord's left. They turned to walk down the corridors that would lead them to the main communications area. The steel walls of the Nemesis ship flickered with the overhelm lights that ticked in and out while they traveled. Platon wished to have them fixed, for the sounds of failing bulbs, coupled with the disorienting sight of flashing light, were extremely irritating to the obsessively-compulsive mech. However, Galvatron himself had ordered they not be fixed, for he apparently preferred the disturbing scene.

Said leader paused without warning in their walk by the open door of the energon storage room, taking stand by the frame and turning back to his followers. "Platon, stay here. Titanios, you are dismissed," he instructed. Platon saw Titanios give a respective tip of his helm before taking his leave without a word. The hulking Decepticon was watched after by his superiors until he disappeared around the corner. Galvatron then revved his vents and walked inside the room, Platon close behind.

"Titanios is not yet of my complete trust," Galvatron explained as he kept walking towards the stacks of energon piled high above in mountains of glowing azure cubes. Platon was never one to judge his fellow peers, nor involve himself in the matters of drama between those peers. However, those such as Titanios and that double agent Counterpunch-slash-Punch, he couldn't say he ever truly believed. Titanios was a lesser suspected character, as he had returned the Decepticons' precious priority. Counterpunch had but gained them one of the ancient Tools, the Galvanizer, only to give it to an Autobot spy to take away. Platon, Vortex, and Bekos were still mentally scolding themselves for not noticing earlier the intruder on their ship. They were the leaders of the Decepticon security and interrogation unit after all.

Platon took his place about a yard from the door, locking his servos behind him and observing his leader. He wouldn't comment, as Galvatron's psychological state was not of the best standards, as Platon had taken the time to calculate. It was a messy state of consciousness, that variously included a tenancy of bipolar and or schizophrenic characteristics. It was best to agree with what he willed and follow orders as ordained, or risk injury in the process. It was simply easier and quicker to play along.

Galvatron plucked a cube from one of the lower piles, holding it in front of his faceplates while he turned his side to Platon. "And yet, he brought me not merely our priority, but an ample opportunity for our wretched adversaries and their allied fleshlings," he commented offhandedly. Platon waited for further explanation, however, none came, and as such, he let curiosity feed the beast.

"That opportunity being?" Platon inquired formally. To tell the truth, he hadn't really interest in Galvatron's planning. He was more concerned with carrying out orders as they were given, in the way that they were given, without attached clause. It had gotten him this far with Galvatron, and Arachnid before him.

"Power," Galvatron vented. He was tasting the word, testing out the flavor of great, magnificent control. He wished to rule the universe over, and along with that, throw it into a chaos he himself seemed to believe would dominate the worlds in might. Platon wasn't completely sure chaos would be the way to enlightenment, but by the way this war was faring, as well as Galvatron's unstable psychological state, he wouldn't last long enough to see the end. For now, he would survive. He could concern himself with the latter at a different time.

"Through what way, my Lord?"

"Fera Lennox, the Keeper of the Galvanizer," Galvatron hissed excitedly, lowering the cube. He slammed it down on the pile it had come from and let his large servo sit on top. It covered the entire space of the lid of the container. "She shall be my entry into complete, constituting chaos. My brother haven't the talents any longer to match the abilities she may grant me, for his precious disciples have all but disappeared in total."

"We haven't the Galvanizer to control," Platon noted. "If we are to do what it is you wish, we must acquire it." Galvatron's grip on the cube increased, sending cracks down the sides. Platon clamped his mandible shut, wise enough to know when he was overstepping his boundaries. This was the first time in a long while he had spoken more than a few words. And for good reason.

Galvatron let go of the cube and it fell to pieces, the edges of the container's shards singed black where he had touched. The energon inside flowed freely outward, washing down across the ground and around Galvatron's peds. The substance evaporated wherever it met his armor, sending up curling tendrils of sickly smoke. Platon pretended not to notice.

"That has no matter in the end, Platon. With her, we have everything and anything at our disposal. When she is of my own essence, entitled to my own discretion and mine alone, there won't be a single action the Autobots or my brother may take to reverse the irrevocable deed," Galvatron sneered. Platon had a strange feeling in the depths of his tanks and decided it was uncertainty. If Galvatron was talking about what he thought the warlord was, there would be Pit to come to Earth. There would be nothing to do, nothing to erase the effects. Once it was done, there would be no turning back. Everything and anything the worlds had to offer would be Galvatron's to command.

"I am afraid I am unsure of what it is you are saying," Platon admitted evenly.

Galvatron set his peer with a foreboding pair of crimson optics. "I shall take her as my sparkmate," he answered simply.

The statement was expected, though no less surprising. Galvatron took a few steps from his puddle, leaving rifts of boiling energon in his wake. "However, I refuse take on a fembot in her condition. When she is placed in her new frame, there is to be no physical blemish placed upon her. I wish you to order a proper, immaculate Cybertronian frame for her from Hex and Knockout, and that they are not to leave their quarters until such task is completed. Compute?"

Platon, through his numb consternation, nodded. "Computed," he agreed. Galvatron waved his servo at the 'Con, obviously dismissing him. Platon bowed low, "My Lord." And left. Let Primus bless the two medics who were to construct that frame. Fera Lennox was to become a fully upgraded Cybertronian, only to bond with an unstable, uncontrollable, deranged entity afterward. The way Galvatron had announced his plans, as if Fera was but a vessel for his whims, was unsettling. And she could very well turn out to be but a holder for his future creations. The offspring of the Decepticon overlord and a Keeper...what monstrosity would befall this planet?

The Decepticon found his way to the proper place leading to Knockout and Hex's office, withholding his doubts and worries to the back of his processor. It wasn't his place to concern himself with anything anymore, right? He wasn't going to be around when the events occurred, so it was best not to delve too deeply into them.

On his way, Platon passed the room containing the prisoner Punch. A clear, guttural scream pierced the air, followed by a series of drowned sobs. That double agent wasn't the quietest subject, was he? Platon fought the urge to come inside and show whoever was interrogating Punch how it was done. The goal was to get information, not kill your patient.

Platon tread the length of the hall, stopping at the door that would let Platon enter. He pressed in the appropriate key sequence and the door popped open, releasing a pneumatic rush of air. It creaked when he pulled it back and did so again when he closed it after him. The two mechs he was looking for were in the middle of the room, tending to the destroyed frame of the deadsparked Dirge. Was Arachnid still having visions of the mech? Was she losing her processor, just as their leader was?

No. He wouldn't dwell on the unnecessary.

"Hex. Knockout," he greeted. The mechs moved from Dirge and nodded towards Platon.

"Injure yourself like the drunkards we call our brothers in arms?" Knockout sighed, rubbing a dirtied cloth between his servos.

"No," Platon declined, his optics turning hard. "I have a request...from Galvatron."

"Pass me the microscorcher."

"Please?"

"Female, don't test me."

"Don't test me. No please, no microscorcher."

A sigh rattled from the vents of the yellowish-green mech and his shoulderbolts sagged. Turning toward the human woman sitting on the workstation counter in his medbay, he placed his servos on his hipbolts.

"Vanessa can you...please give me my microscorcher," he conceded irritably. The woman grinned in accomplishment, her grey-blue eyes crinkling. Giving a flip of her striking, raven hair, she shrugged and waved her wrench in a circle.

"I don't know, can I?"

"Miss Jensen..."

"Alright, alright. Blame yourself. You're always the one yelling at me for touching your stuff," she claimed as she pushed herself to her feet. Ratchet snorted at the woman, stealing himself back to his project. That human could be an annoyance when she wanted to be. However, she was useful and talented for her age and experience -or lack thereof-, so it may have been worth dealing with to expend her abilities rather than kick her out. Her smart attitude may change his processor one of these kalons though, if she kept it up.

Ratchet lifted his servos, going to work on what he could. His latest project was building an adequate frame for Fera Lennox. The one she was in now wouldn't be able to hold her out for long, with a spark like she had, with the power it contained. The Stone of Primus was wearing out the frame far faster than he had predicted, thus making it furthermore difficult for her systems to operate at optimal levels. Their recent diagnostic of her health had exposed that the damage had progressed at a swifter, and more aggressive rate than he'd predicted. Thus, he had barred off his medbay for all but emergency patients to finish this new frame.

In his concern, he had made the brash decision to skip an entire stage in their plans to upgrade her. He was constructing a completely upgraded Cybertronian fembot frame, equipped with the attachment clips that would hold her armor in place. Along with that, subspace pockets and weaponry and alternate mode programs were already installed in the cranial chip later to be implanted in the halfway-finished CPU unit.

"Here you go," Vanessa suddenly appeared by Ratchet's arm and Ratchet inadvertently jumped, startled. In her grease-covered hands was the tool he was looking for. She was watching him with a hint of concern in her eyes. Ratchet ignored the expression and calmed his own, reaching down to take the microscorcher. Vanessa continued to observe him as he attached the tool to his bracer and began to warm it.

"Is there something wrong Rat-?"

"You should clean your hands. This is a sterile area," he commented lamely, avoiding her question. Really, there was the tiniest of smudges of grease on the microscorcher, and it wouldn't do anything to mar its performance. But anything to get his thoughts away from personal griefs. To admit to himself, he was far from alright. His processor was a mess, worrying for Fera and if her systems rejected this new frame or became overwhelmed altogether with such a large leap.

Vanessa's jaw snapped closed and Ratchet could see her from the corner of his optic, wiping her hands on the jacket tied around her waist. After that, she smeared them across the fabric of her cargo pants. All this time she was studying Ratchet's work, clearly not satisfied with the end of their conversation, but wise enough to stay quiet. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he kept her around. She knew when to stop.

But maybe he wasn't the only one stressed here. For when the door to the medbay flew open, they both leapt equally in the air. Vanessa probably more than himself, but that was because she was a newer human assistant and was not yet used to the loud noises that accompanied the base. Ratchet grumbled under his vents and yanked the microscorcher from his bracer. He set the red-hot mending tool in front of Vanessa and she stepped back a bit to avoid the searing metal.

Ratchet stomped his way across the floor as a single voice picked up in Cybertronian, one he knew all too well. "Ratchet!" they called hurriedly. "Ratchet! Holy creator of Primus, mech, where are ya!?"

The medic ripped aside the mesh curtain that separated the two sides of his medbay, the waiting room and the treatment area, only to find a flustered Wheeljack pacing the floors hard enough to run a trail through the concrete. Ratchet stepped through and Wheeljack stopped dead, snapping his faceplates up. The mechanic was covered from faceplates to toelinks in a dark black soot, the fins on the sides of his helm invisible behind the sheen. He'd almost been unrecognizable from first glance. Instant knowing kicked into gear in Ratchet's processor, and his optics shuttered in weariness as another sigh escaped him.

Pinching the bridge of his noseplate, Ratchet addressed his comrade. "Wheeljack, for Primus sake, this is a medbay. I'm in here," he assured his old friend. The usually white, red, and green mech jumped at his CMO comrade, nearly tripping over his own legs in the process. Ratchet jerked as Wheeljack fell towards him. They both reached for one another and Ratchet managed to catch him, Wheeljack's servos on the medic's shoulderbolts.

Without missing a beat, a flustered Wheeljack lifted his helm to look Ratchet in the optics. "There ya are! I've been looking everywhere fer ya!" he exclaimed.

Ratchet's optic ridges burrowed into his optics and he helped his peer to stand. Together, with Wheeljack's arm slung over Ratchet's shoulderbolts, they returned behind the curtain. Vanessa was still in the same spot Ratchet had left her in, her eyes wide with curiosity. When she saw Wheeljack, she immediately jumped into action, running over to the free berth of the space and quickly picking up any items spilled across. Ratchet nodded in thanks to her and shifted Wheeljack to the surface.

When he pulled back, he found the soot covering his arms and chassis where Wheeljack had touched him, and he grimaced in disgust. "What are you covered in?" he demanded while trying to swipe the stuff from his armor. "Did something explode again?" Vanessa came back with a large cloth and Ratchet took it gratefully.

"Yes, but besides that!" Wheeljack cried as Vanessa walked over to sit next to him with a rag of her own, cleaning off his servos. "Fera, it's Fera, 'Ratch, she-"

"Alright, alright, calm down. Let me clean off that junk from you and you can tell me what it is bothering you," Ratchet assured his stuttering comrade. Wheeljack fell quiet, which was already unlike him, and Ratchet walked away to grab a few more sanitation cloths. He brought over a bucket of cleaning fluid as well, and set to work carefully ridding the Autobot of the exploded substance. This wasn't a surprising thing for Ratchet to deal with. Wheeljack was known for his experiments and creations to literally explode in his faceplates while working on them. It would be Ratchet to clean him up most the times afterwards, as the mechanic couldn't quiet reach all the nooks and crannies of his armor. So back on Cybertron, this was a regularly occurring event.

Ratchet could recall a good hundred times himself cleaning up a dirtied Wheeljack. Sometimes, things would be worse than a simple surface wound, and Ratchet would find himself scolding Wheeljack for being careless. In one instance, he actually had to reattach Wheeljack's digit.

Vanessa and Ratchet worked in content quiet. Wheeljack often shifted in what Ratchet could only guess was anxiety, and he would have to threaten sedatives to settle the 'Bot.

"Did I miss something?" Vanessa spoke up after a few minutes of working on cleaning Wheeljack's arm. "Because I feel like I did."

"Wheeljack was blubbering about something involving Fera Lennox," Ratchet explained, stealing a glance up at said mech. Wheeljack nodded and wriggled once more. Ratchet, having enough of the squirming, lifted his open servo and slapped his palm to the side of Wheeljack's helm.

"Ow!" the mechanic complained, cringing. "What was that for?"

"Ignoring me once again and making something explode."

Ratchet's scalding glare made Wheeljack flinch like a scolded youngling. Ratchet had a good processor to put his peer in a giant box and lock it, if but to keep him out of trouble and out of his medbay. Vanessa cleared her throat and lifted a foot to tap the tip of her shoe to Ratchet's arm to get his attention. "Fera Lennox? That girl that got turned into one of you guys? That Fera?" she said, trying to return to topic.

"Yes, that one," Ratchet clarified. "Although, I'm certain there is no other Fera like her." He mumbled the last part and Vanessa glared at him.

"Well?" she prompted. "What's happened?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out" Ratchet relayed, meeting optics with their patient again. "Wheeljack is overwhelmed and overheated, which means he probably isn't processing again."

Vanessa stopped cleaning and put her fists on her hips. The soot had covered up a large part of her shirt now and a portion of her face where she had accidentally wiped at her cheeks or forehead and smeared it. She was looking up at Wheeljack, studying him. The mechanic in turn was returning the gesture as a means of anticipation. No 'Bot knew quite was the newer female addition to the P.R.I.M.E team was thinking before she did anything. She was unpredictable, much like another well-known fembot Ratchet knew.

Snapping her fingers, Vanessa huffed and began to climb up Wheeljack's side to get to his shoulderbolt. "Let me help him out, if that's ok with you of course," she offered, getting a nod from Wheeljack. "You clean...whatever that is off of him."

"Already doing so."

With a final turn, Vanessa rolled her eyes at her peer and stepped around to reach Wheeljack's cranial panel at the base of his helm. The tools around her waist splayed when she exposed them and she grabbed the proper materials she needed to begin work on the mech's processor. As she fiddled with the circuits and wires, Ratchet continued his work cleaning the mech's armor. Now seemed a good time to ask what it was Wheeljack had been terrified about earlier.

But before he could do so, the doors of his medbay once again flew open. An audible moan came from the medic and he threw the rag over his shoulderbolt.
"What happened to no 'Bots allowed here unless it's an emergency?!" he yelled in exasperation. His aggravation rose when the entrants made their way through the mesh curtain without him there to escort them. Ratchet snarled and grabbed his wrench, meaning full well to use it.

However, he withheld himself as Greenlight came rushing into the room. Worry was plastered thick on her dainty faceplates, her small form riddled with nervousness. Ratchet lowered his 'weapon' as he saw her come straight for Wheeljack. No matter what, he couldn't find it in him to take his anger out on the fembot. She was too sweet, too kind for him to find the hatred inside of himself to use the same tactic on her that he used on the twins. He allowed her to throw her arms around her mech and hold him close, her helm buried into his chassis.

The sudden movement made Vanessa struggle to keep her balance on the back of Wheeljack's neck. Her arms flung outward and her legs were knocked from beneath her. Ratchet managed to jump in and catch her before she hit the berth over a good ten feet down.

"You ran off Wheeljack," Greenlight murmured as Ratchet set Vanessa onto the berth. "You can't scare me like that."

Wheeljack returned the hug and made an expression between embarrassment and amusement. "Sorry hun," he apologized, squeezing her closer in comfort. "Won't happen again."

The second intruder, the onyx-black fembot known as Stratis, moved in after Greenlight and made her way towards Ratchet and the others. Her features were serious, her stance stiff with something beyond stress. "How much has he told you?" she demanded in a tight tone. Ratchet knew she was talking about Wheeljack, but in case he was missing something, he hardened his faceplates as well and decided to tread lightly.

"Enough. Is it true?" he inquired carefully, his initial steeliness softening.

Stratis' lip plates pressed into a thin line and her piercing gaze strayed to Wheeljack and Greenlight, who were speaking in hushed Cybertronian to each other. Ratchet noticed her hesitation and briefly looked to Vanessa, who was currently occupied at that instance. He took the opportunity and came forward to firmly grip Stratis' arm. They walked towards the mesh curtain again and Ratchet pulled it back for Stratis to come through. She did, and with a last gaze over his shoulderbolt, Ratchet followed.

Stratis' spinal support was to Ratchet, and as he let the curtain fall behind them, he noticed the tensity in her shoulderbolts. Concerned, he approached her and tried to touch her shoulderbolt, but she quickly avoided the contact, moving a few steps away to face him again.

"Yes, what he said is true," she began, her voice laced with bitter anger. "Fera Lennox is no longer under our radar of surveillance. Neither is the Autobots Solas Kaon or Titanios."

Ratchet's optics widened and his tanks dropped. What could possibly have happened this time? Questions rang high through Ratchet's processor and he struggled to keep them contained. He wished he knew Solas as the kind of mech that wouldn't distance himself from comrades. But he couldn't. And Solas wasn't. The mech could very well have taken Fera off into lands he believed she would be safer at, but in doing so, he could have very well jeopardized her life. Her systems were failing due to the incredible intensity of the Stone of Primus on her spark, and so keeping her away from Ratchet's view for too long could have been worse for her.

Banishing these disconcerting views, Ratchet went on. "She has no enemy, who would want to kidnap her? As far as all those beyond Autobot knowledge, Fera Lennox had perished at the party those months ago," he surmised. "And besides, haven't we kept an optic on her at all times?"

"Solas Kaon is her Guardian, therefore he has responsibility over her safety. As well as that, myself and a large majority of our Autobot comrades were indisposed of at that time," Stratis answered coldly. Ratchet tightened his mandible, smashing his oral sheets together. If Fera was as important to them as they claimed she was, Ratchet was confused as to why Stratis and the others would blatantly ignore a constant guard over her. This was exactly why Ratchet had preformed daily check-ups on the fembot, to make sure she was safe and whole.

"Still..." he insisted, not quite settled with the fembot's reasoning. When she didn't speak, he continued. "What about Titanios? Have you heard anything?"
Stratis needn't say a word, for her expression was all that was needed. Ratchet felt his spark drop and his limbs go numb. Those questions that had been surging in his restless CPU were now silent in shock.

"No, we have been unable to locate their tracker signals. But, myself and a great many in number believe he may have some part in their disappearance," Stratis finally said softly. It seemed as though even a strong, stalwart fembot such as Stratis couldn't keep her emotions in check all the time. But Titanios? Could it be true?

"You're saying..." he couldn't finish. The thought was unfathomable. The act could only be committed by the lowest of low. It wasn't possible.

But Stratis proved him wrong when she locked gazes with him, her blue gaze nearly violet in astounding rage. "Titanios, as of this time, has been marked for treason by the Autobot faction."

And so...that happened.

Thanks all for staying with me so far!

This mess is going to run it's course, you'll see :)

Just hang on a bit longer and I promise something good for all you.

And also,

I want to wish everyone a happy Easter,

For all of you who celebrate it, of course :D

I hope to hear from you all on what you thought!

See you all next chapter!

*Chapter Inspiration: Soldier= Galvin Degraw*