Alternative title for this chapter is "Mindfuck." Enjoy! Tell me what you think! I swear, more Autobots are coming soon. It's getting close to say goodbye to Kaon.

Ratchet's joy at seeing his old friend alive and safe was cut short at the stern look Wheeljack gave him over his blast mask. His optics travelled to the purple sigil on his friend's chassis and his tanks suddenly churned with unease. The engineer tugged his arm and Ratchet had no choice but to follow as he was lead through the engineering deck and to one of many natural tunnels that lead from the main cavern. The further they walked, the quieter it got, though the heat grew more intense with every step and for in moment, Ratchet contemplated tanking his arm free and running.

Wheeljack peered back anxiously and looked over Ratchet's shoulder, as though checking to be sure no one was following, before he stopped dead in the cramped tunnel and threw his arms around his friend. "You are an idiot," Wheeljack said through a laugh but his voice was shaking. "Leaning up against a prototype ion blaster—what were you thinking? The heat from the barrel would have melted you to it!"

Ratchet returned the embrace and gave a short, surprised laugh. "You're not the first person who's called me an idiot in the last few days," he admitted. "Primus, you scared the slag out of me for a second, Jack."

Wheeljack tightened his embrace even further. "Sorry— the mechs down here have been rubbing off on me. They get torqued off if their tests get interrupted, especially if it means someone getting vaporized," Wheeljack said with snort. "Primus, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too," Ratchet said quietly and held onto the embrace for a moment longer before he held him at arm's length and looked his friend over, unable to wipe the grin from his face. Wheeljack still wore his blast mask up and he was covered from head to pede in soot—it reminded Ratchet of so many moments during their University days that it made his spark ache. The only thing different was the purple sigil that stood out against the white and green of his chassis. He swallowed and tapped the sigil with a finger. "You got time to talk?"

Wheeljack led him to the lower mess hall— smaller than the one Ratchet refueled from and much less busy. "The engineers usually just grab a cube a go," Wheeljack explained and swiped his ID card to fill his cube. "I know there's another dispensary upstairs but I've never actually been to it. If I had known that was the one you used, I would have made the trip."

"You probably wouldn't have seen me—they keep me chained to my workbench in the medbay as often as they can," Ratchet said. He filled up his own cube and followed his friend to one of the many empty tables. He sat down across from him and watched Wheeljack retract his mask, showing his fully-healed and badly scarred face. His mouth was twisted, permanently pulled down in something like a grimace while his olfactory sensor was almost nonexistent, just a truncated ridge above his lips. Wheeljack noticed him looking and ran a hand self-consciously over his mouth, as though trying to rub the scars off. Ratchet quickly looked away, focusing on his cube instead. An awkward moment of silence passed between them before Ratchet finally gathered to courage to ask. "So… when did you join the great Decepticon army?"

Wheeljack rubbed his thumb along the edge of his cube and looked down into the pink liquid rather than at his friend. "Ratch, I had to. They use neutrals as weapons testers," he murmured. "They don't want to risk injuring themselves if they backfire and they backfire a lot. Half the mechs they have in engineering don't know how to wire a light bulb, let alone a photon blaster." He took another sip of his cube, the permanent grimace on his face growing even more pronounced. "You wouldn't believe the injuries I've seen down here—I didn't make it this far to end up slagged beyond repair… I did what I had to, so I took the sigil."

Ratchet swallowed and nodded—he wasn't naïve enough to believe that every Decepticon was a kind as Spec had been to him. "They gave me a choice up in the medbay… Spec—that medic who saw us in, he's been looking out for me," he said quietly.

Wheeljack gave a rueful grin and looked down at his cube. "That must be nice," he said quietly and Ratchet realized that his friend didn't have a spark to rely on down here. Wheeljack sighed before saying, "There ain't any loyalty behind it, Ratch. I haven't forgotten what they did—what they're still doing… don't think I ever can."

Ratchet nodded and rubbed his helm tiredly. "Me neither," he said sadly. He tried to turn his thoughts to another question nagging at his processor, "Have you seen Perceptor?"

Wheeljack nodded though he didn't look at all happy about it. "Yeah, he works near engineering with that Landslide mech," he said. He ran a hand over one scared cheek, as though debating what to say. "He's… not good, Ratch. I don't know how to explain it, but every time I see him, he looks like he's breaking down more and more."

"Do you know what's going on?" Ratchet asked, split between relief and sorrow. Perceptor was just a kid—he shouldn't even be here. He technically wasn't even old enough to enlist in the Autobot forces.

Wheeljack shook his head. "He won't tell me… but from what I've seen of Landslide, I'd guess it has something to do with him. He's a scary fragger, that one."

Ratchet winced and ran a hand over his helm. "Primus… I'll try and find him before they make me go back to work. See if I can help him."

"Yeah, well… don't let Landslide catch you near him," Wheeljack murmured and rubbed his neck. "How'd you manage to escape down here?" he asked. "With how hot and heavy the fights have been coming, I'm surprised you mechs even have a chance to recharge."

Ratchet rubbed the back of his helm and gave a small laugh. "It's kind of a long story," he admitted.

Wheeljack's headfins flashed in amusement. "I got time. Primus knows I don't usually take breaks. I deserve one," he said and leaned back comfortably in his chair.

Ratchet grinned and took a sip of cube before he began to retell the story of his trip back to Praxus. He told him of Meister and Bluestreak, and as he described the destruction of Praxus, Wheeljack leaned across the table and put a hand on his shoulder. Even though he was an Iacon mech, Ratchet could tell he felt the loss of Praxus just as acutely as he had. He explained the journey back home and how things had turned sour so quickly.

"And so now I'm on the injured roster until my optics stop glitching," Ratchet murmured and sipped his cube.

Wheeljack whistled and shook his head. "Primus Ratch," he said. "Ya know, I met Meister. It seems like he kind of floated all over HQ. He seemed like a decent mech."

Ratchet snorted. "I thought so too when I first met him," he said. "Then he glued my slag to the ceiling, broke my wrist, made me grope two triplechangers and then knocked me out of commission." Wheeljack gave a surprised bark of a laugh even as Ratchet rubbed his helm anxiously. "Primus, I just hope that Bluestreak's okay… that kid got under my armor like you wouldn't believe."

Wheeljack patted his shoulder. "It takes a certain type of evil to be able to harm a sparkling," he murmured. "I don't know if Meister's capable of that. It seems like he had a lot of opportunities to just off you and be done with it, but he didn't. Maybe that sparkling has a chance with him."

The medic groaned and rubbed his helm. "I wish I could remember what he said to me. The details are still so slagging fuzzy," he murmured. The Autobot symbol flashed through his mind and he sighed in exasperation before he remembering the Iacon city codes attached to Meister's system updates. "I did do a maintenance check on him awhile ago…" he said quietly. "His system updates… even the recent ones carried the Iacon city code."

Wheeljack's optics widened slightly at that. "Seriously? But that means..."

"Either he's getting updates sent to him from someone in Iacon, or he's going there and getting them done," Ratchet finished for him. "I saw some old ones from a long time ago that were from a different city… Tarn or Polyhex, I'm not sure, but all the ones for the last two or three vorns were from Iacon."

"That's… weird," Wheeljack said frankly. I mean, he is Spec. Ops so maybe he's been doing some work there but… you'd think he'd come back to trusted territory for an update."

Ratchet's cube froze halfway on its journey to his mouth. "Holy slag," he muttered, optics wide. "Jack… Meister never got updates in Kaon HQ. That's why they gave me the days off—no one's ever been able to get him in for a maintenance check until I made the deal with him." Wheeljack's optics were wide as he looked at his friend. It seemed too taboo to even say it, too unbelievable and yet it clicked together too well to dismiss.

If Meister really was an Autobot… it meant that Bluestreak really was safe and it meant that they weren't invisible anymore—someone knew they were here. The thought of it, as farfetched and subjective as it was, gave him hope. Suddenly, it felt like they he had gotten his identity back. He was no longer the nameless neutral forgotten in the expansive roster of Kaon HQ, but a prisoner that maybe someone, Primus willing, had finally noticed.

Something brushed against his ankle, so light he almost didn't register it. He looked down and jerked away from the table in alarm as red optics stared back up at him. The beast mech they were attached to hissed at him before darting out from under the table in a rush of black and sprinting through the automatic doors.

"The pit was that?" Ratchet asked, optics wide as his pump struggled to regulate itself.

Wheeljack was staring at the door in horror. "Oh Primus… Oh Primus, Ratch," he muttered.

"What? What is it?" he asked. "What was that thing?" Wheeljack was already getting to his feet, his blast mask snapping into place, though the panic still showed in his optics. Ratchet followed his lead even as his helm took that moment to spark and his optics popped and fizzled to black again. "Rudderfagging pit!"

He heard the doors to the room hiss open and heavy footsteps clacked across the floor, followed by the quick pitter-patter of lighter, possibly quadrupedal feet. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm tightly, lifting him to his feet. "Dismissed," a flat, monotone voice said and it took Ratchet a moment to realize that the mystery mech wasn't talking to him.

"But—" Wheeljack started.

"Dismissed," the voice interrupted, the flat tone somehow becoming hard. Ratchet turned blindly towards where Wheeljack had been and gave a small shake of his head.

"Go," he mouthed silently and he could only hope Wheeljack obeyed as the iron bar of a hand on his arm tugged. He stumbled blindly before falling into step next to the mech. The mech was bigger than him by a long shot—Ratchet almost had to jog to keep up with the large steps. Finally, his vision started to return and he finally managed to get a glimpse.

The mech was a tall boxy frame type—the likes of which Ratchet wasn't familiar with. His face was covered by a silver mask and a red visor, obscuring any details that might be hidden underneath while his armor was a gleaming dark blue. On the smooth glass of his chest was a discreet Decepticon sigil. "Who are you?" Ratchet asked, trying not to sound panicked. "Where are you taking me?"

The mech was silent and simply tightened his grip as he pulled him into the lift before pressing an unmarked button. The lift shot up, the lights of the rapidly passing floors casting strange shadows across the faceless mech and Ratchet swallowed, trying not to show how nervous he really was. When the lift finally came to a stop, the blue mech wasted no time dragging Ratchet out of the elevator and into the expansive upper halls of HQ that had previously been used as judgment chambers for the Autobot Peacekeepers. The black beast mech that had been hiding under Ratchet's table slinked out of the shadows and stepped into stride at his master's side, red optics never leaving Ratchet, as though expecting him to bolt. The blue mech led him from the main hall into a grand, arching room with a high domed ceiling and large windows facing the city outside. It was oppressively quiet in the large chamber and their combined footsteps clacked too loudly across the polished floor.

Suddenly, Ratchet felt like he was on trial, but for what, he didn't know. He tugged at the mech's iron grip. "Please, I haven't done anything wrong," he pleaded. At the end of the hall, two mechs waited, one sitting atop the raised dais in the judges place, while the other paced in front. Both of them, Ratchet recognized from his nightmares. "Nononono please, I haven't done anything!"

The blue mech shoved him to his knees in front of the dais and Ratchet could only look helplessly up at the Slagmaker himself who sat above him like some sort of deity. Unbidden, he remembered the first time he saw the mech in person, right after the explosion in Praxus had destroyed his entire world. The tri-colored seeker that stood next to the throne glared distastefully at him, sweeping wings held high. He was the one who had murdered Ion in the shuttle and the null-rays attached to his forearms made Ratchet wonder if the same fate would befall him.

"So, this is the neutral that was running around with our missing intelligence mech?" Megatron asked, sounding almost bored.

"Affirmative. Designation: Ratchet," the monotone mech said. "Praxus University trained, recruited from Praxus before fall. Current function: medical assistant in main medbay."

Ratchet couldn't stop a shudder and looked at the ground with wide optics, his vents working overtime to keep his system cool. He felt a hand wrap around his chevron and tug, forcing him to look up at Megatron. The blue mech kept a tight hold of his chevron even as his free hand rested against Ratchet's helm. "Ready for questioning," the blue mech said and Ratchet felt the tingling of a scanner or something like it emanate from the fingers on his helm.

Megatron leaned forward in his chair, crimson optics meeting his unwaveringly. "So, Ratchet… why don't you tell us what happened on your little trip to the ruins of Praxus?" he said, voice smooth as oil.

The scan or whatever it was suddenly intensified and Ratchet's vocals choked in pain. He was no hero, at least not for Meister's sake and he wanted to speak, tell them everything but the blue mech behind him beat him to it. "Journey to Praxus result of a deal made with Meister," he said. "Objective: confirm destruction and retrieve a remaining sparkling from the ruins. Objectives achieved."

Megatron raised an optic ridge though the rest of his face remained neutral. "What happened then?" he prompted and Ratchet felt the painful tug in his processor again. He couldn't stop a small cry of pain, his optics whitening.

The blue mech behind him was silent for a moment, piecing together the events from Ratchet's point of view. "Accosted by scavengers. Meister split away to delegate," he said.

"And?"

"Began journey home. On approach to Kaon, memory files corrupted from head injury. Recollected information: Meister took sparkling with promise of delivering him to safety."

Megatron sighed. "That could mean anywhere, Soundwave. You haven't heard from him since he left?" he asked, sounding almost annoyed.

"Negative. Absent for the past week. Meister's whereabouts currently unknown. Comm. active but not acknowledging hailing attempts," the blue mech said.

The seeker snorted and finally spoke up. "Sounds like he purposely ignoring you, Soundwave."

"Meister's loyalty, trusted," Soundwave said. "Perhaps taking sparkling away from war zone. Neutral territories."

"Or Autobot territories," the flier added with a smirk. "I think your favorite bot's been playing you."

"Impossible," Soundwave retorted, a hint of emotion creeping into his voice. "Deception would be detected. Reminder: Soundwave telepathic."

"Quiet, both of you," Megatron ordered before Stasracream could retort. "I don't think I have to tell you what a danger Meister could be to our plans if he is playing the wrong side, but let's see if we can find out for certain." He met Ratchet's optics again. "Did you speak to Meister on the road? What else do you know about him?"

Ratchet was ready for it this time, but it didn't make the pain any less intense. In fact, it felt as if the mech was reaching even deeper, digging into the most private depths of his mind even as he struggled to keep his mind blank. As soon as Meister's name was mentioned though, he knew it was a losing battle. Automatically, his processor brought up the information and Soundwave read it like a datapad.

Soundwave let go of Ratchet's head suddenly and he fell forward with a groan, his optics fritzing out again. It looked like he was unconscious, but he wasn't nearly that fortunate and just laid against the cool floor, his head feeling like it had just been split open. "Ratchet preformed maintenance check on Meister before journey," he said. "Found city codes from Iacon on many previous updates." The quadropedal beast mech padded up to Ratchet and peered at him warily, though Ratchet didn't notice until he felt the warm ex-vent from the mech against his cheek.

"And what do you make of it?" Megatron asked, voice hard.

Soundwave was quiet for a long moment. "Meister a cautious mech, unlikely to get maintenance updates in non-trusted territory… findings suggest Iacon loyalties, possibly Autobot loyalties," he said at last.

Megatron growled low in his throat. "Damage control," he said. "I want every scrap of info he's given us checked and double checked. Whatever info he may have picked up, I want five rumors out there to counter it. Make them doubt whatever he may tell them."

"Understood Lord Megatron," Soundwave said. "Apologies… Meister's loyalties thought pure. Mistake will not be repeated."

Megatron glared at the telepath. "If he returns to Kaon, I want you to personally see to his interrogation," he said. "I don't care if you leave him comatose after you're through—I want to know what he knows."

"And what if it comes out that his loyalty is really with us?" Starscream said. "You'll have destroyed a useful mech."

"There are other useful mechs to take his place," Megatron said and Ratchet couldn't stop a shudder at the complete lack of compassion in the mech's voice. His optics slowly powered back and he looked up though he didn't dare push himself up from the floor. The black beast mech growled, showing sharp silver fangs mere inches from Ratchet's face. Megatron looked down at him, optics impassive as though he was looking at droid. "Why are you still here? Get back to work," he snapped.

Ratchet didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He refused to slow down until he was in his barrack, pump beating so fast it hurt while he hid his face against his bunk like a scared sparkling, hands gripping the back of his helm until the throbbing pain finally subsided. It was only then he heard the quiet choking of his vents and felt the tears streaming down his face.