Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle/klick: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 years.

Chapter 28: Terrible Underlings

Low Tones bit her metallic lip and dialed the comm number again, wringing her small hands together.

Today was not her day.

She was a small femme with yellow and light blue armor, the two pastels blending nicely. She was a young femme, still trying to finish school and get an apprenticeship. She lived on the sub level, near the apartment's service systems. Her creator got her a discount with his old family connections. Well, the whole village's connections really. She came from the country, one of the smaller colonies on a moon the Autobot Commonwealth barely paid attention to. Her sire was the town mayor and elder. It had been hard and taxing to get her onto Cybertron and into an Autobot Academy, but they had pulled it off. She wanted to be a medic and bring some more skills to her small home-moon. It was still tight financially though to pay everything. Luckily, her answer came in the form of an overstressed blue mech that had been trying to sooth his crying sparkling and carry all his supplies up the stairs, the elevator out.

That had been nearly a vorn and a half ago. Apparently, his name was Sentinel Minor. He had been surprised when she didn't know who he was and promptly offered her a sparkling-sitting job. She had jumped on it and ever sense then they had been beneficial to each other. She could sit there, studying in her small subterranean basement apartment, watching Sentinel's creation giggle and play with minimal interruptions. She always had enough time to study and enough extra sparkling-sitting credits to make ends meet.

Overall, Echo was a good kid. Always so quiet despite his reoccurring night terrors. He was sickly though. Oh Primus, he was sickly and so was Sentinel it seemed. Perhaps it was genetic? She had tried to pry a few times, even asked her medical professors about the symptoms she noticed. She wasn't experienced enough though to even know what she was witnessing. She wasn't even an apprentice anywhere yet so she couldn't even ask a mentor.

Sonic Trip might know, but she wasn't going to tell anyone. Not that she was really around anymore to ask given that she was now in Autobot boot camp.

Either way, she did not once regret helping Sentinel up the stairs, his weld marks still fresh and sore looking, a limp evident. In fact, no one in the apartment minded helping the blue mech with his sparkling if only for Sentinel's sake. He was a single creator after all and overstressed … no partner in sight. The rumor around the complex was that, after he biffed it as Magnus, that his mate abandoned him and the sparkling. Cold fragger. How could they?

Nonetheless, Sentinel seemed to accept his lot in life almost gracefully. He even employed one of the retired mechs in the building, Codebreaker, to be his son's teacher and tutor. Codebreaker just fawned over that youngling. He acted like a proud grand-sire half of the time.

So, she liked Sentinel despite his exhausted brooding.

Well, usually. Not today. No, today she was panicky. Yesterday afternoon, Sentinel had dropped Echo off, stating he would be back late tonight. At most, early tomorrow morning. Not at all odd, he was head of the communications department after all.

Unfortunately, he wasn't back yet. She couldn't even get ahold of him on his personal comm.

And today was an important day for her. She was taking the test that would see if she was ready for an apprenticeship. She needed to be there and she couldn't take a youngling in his first upgrade with her. Echo was well behaved, yes, but even his patience would be tried with a test that took groons to finish.

Wringing her hands together again, her optics drifted over to Sentinel's private office. Perhaps there were other numbers to call.

…

Cliffjumper glared at the beeping light. He had been getting incoming comms and transmissions all morning from various departments about yesterday's break in. He hadn't work this hard since Sentinel's fall.

Frowning at the blinking light, wondering if he could just ignore it given it was an unidentified caller, he sighed in resignation. What if it was someone important? This was the third time he had gotten a call from this number this morning. If this just turned out to be Mirage with more spam though, he was going to punch the rich-bot in the face next time he saw him!

Fragger would probably just turn invisible though, and he would miss before he blue bot reappeared with a coy grin on his face.

Ugh, he hated that coy grin of Mirage's.

Cliffjumper sighed at the thought and looked at the medical grade on his desk. Sentinel would need another cube soon. Maybe he could use it as an excuse to get away from his desk. Sentinel had stayed in the offices all night apparently, and he hadn't been happy to be awoken with a cube of medical grade energon. Sentinel should have gone home. He still looked sick and pained.

He was so much different from the mech he was nearly two vorns ago. He hadn't come back cocky. He came back broken. Even after he got out of the hoover chair, his legs would shake if one looked carefully, which no one had. Not even Cliffjumper had paid much attention at first. Now … now he saw everything. Every sharp intake and shaking servo. The chest pains.

Whatever those back-water half-breeds from Docker City had done, they did it wrong. Something was wrong and something was going to give out. He could just feel it in the way that Sentinel acted and moved. It was like he was resigning himself to the pain and suffering. Like the young mech was just giving up.

Shaking off the thoughts, his mind basically counting down the time until Sentinel's medical appointment (medical leave files partially filled out already), Cliffjumper decided to answer the unknown comm link. If it was Mirage, he would just take some of his pent up frustrations out on the taller mech.

Grinding his denta, the assistant opened the line to take the live feed, just waiting for Mirage's smug face to appear on the screen. "Communication. Sentinel Minor's office. This is Cliffjumper, may I take a message."

There was silence on the other side for a moment before a feminine voice echoed over the line, a light blue and pink face popping up on the screen. She was pretty, but too young to even be a recruit. "Communications? Finally, I've been trying to get a hold of Sentinel's office forever. I've tried calling his private comm link for hours now, but I still haven't gotten a reply. I found this number after digging around in his apartment for a few groons. I need to talk to him."

The secretary started, surprised. W-was this a one-night stand or something? Why else would she be in his apartment? She was pretty, and apparently Sentinel had been quite a ladies mech at one point, but Sentinel was entirely too boring for that now. Right? Well, a mech had needs he supposed.

Waving off the thoughts of his superior with such a pretty young femme, Cliffjumper professionally stated, "I'm sorry miss –",

"Low Tones."

"-this is not a line for private calls. If this is something personal, I recommend using his personal comm. Good bye-"

"No! No! Don't hang up," she begged, her desperation flowing out of her like word vomit. "I can't watch Echo any longer. Sentinel said he would be back late last night, or at worst this morning. He said he would take a sick afternoon if he had too. I need to take my entrance exam in a groon. I've been studying for a vorn to take this exam. I have taken Echo a few times to class when everyone was tied up and most of the professors don't mind, but I can't take him to class today. This professor is really up tight even if the little dear is so quiet and proper like his dad… sad too…," there was a moment of silence, the red mech confused as the femme seemed to stall and think before returning to her rant, "but that's not the point. I can't take him to an entrance exam. Sentinel said he would be back home long before now. He needs to come home."

The red mech frowned. After giving him his morning energon, Sentinel had been immediately called into a meeting. Apparently the Minor had been trying to squirm out of the meeting all day, but Magnus had put his big metal foot down, stating that if he was ill he was going to one of the on site medics, not home. Sentinel had went silent after that, no longer stating he was feeling unwell. Not that anyone believed him. Jazz had sent more than one ping inquiring about his superior's health to Cliffjumper.

Not that he knew slag.

Cliffjumper frowned deeply. He knew he should be suspicious of Jazz's sudden curiosity, but decided to worry about that later. He had a femme to deal with. Frag, it was taking every ounce of professionalism in him to not ask if she was Sentinel's frag partner.

"Sorry miss, but he is in a meeting with the Magnus. That's probably why he cannot respond to your personal comms. He should be out in a few groons," Cliffjumper said bitterly, suddenly realizing something. She had said 'professors'. Slag, how young was this femme? She was too young. Maybe of age, but too young for Sentinel to be taking advantage of. Not that he knew for sure … but why else would she be in his apartment?

And who was this Echo person?

"What?! I have to go though. I know he's helped me get those scholarships with his recommendation letters, but that is all meaningless if I can't take that entrance exam. I love him for always tipping me extra for sparkling sitting, even though I know it can be tight for him being a single creator, but I need to go."

The femme's rambling carried on for a few more klicks until she suddenly stopped and eyed the confused Cliffjumper, hope in her optics as she whispered, "You're his secretary, right?"

"Assistant, miss, and what do you mean by single creator?" said the red mech, optics going wide.

"Assistant, secretary. Same thing. You take care of his things. Now, I'll be by in less than a groon. I'll bring Echo's school books so he can study. He's a good kid. Very quiet," she said as she started running around in the background in a room that suspiciously looked like it was from Sentinel's flat. "I'll be by in a bit. Bye!"

And there Cliffjumper sat, confusion written all over his face as he looked at the number. Wait? Why was that an unidentified number? Frag, that was the phone line for Sentinel's private flat, wasn't it? No, no. That call sounded more like a panicked sparkling sitter, but Sentinel had no children. Right? He didn't even have a mate. Right?! Yeah, yeah. He didn't. The femme was probably just confused. She must have been looking for another Sentinel. Yeah, that was it.

His hopes were dashed though when a light blue and yellow femme nearly fell over his desk a few cycles later, her arms burden with a few different bags. He was about to protest, ready to call her a mad femme and then security, but she silence him by throwing a bag at him. It was seemingly filled with a few toys and other miscellaneous sparkling items. She then walked around the table, a small sparkling holding her hand. That shut him up completely. The sparkling … looked like Sentinel. He was a little more delicate in the waist and shoulders, the chin absent for the time being, but his ear fins were the same and his blue coloring was unmistakable even with the soft greys that fell into the color scheme.

"Again, sorry, sorry, sorry, for putting this on you, but I need to make that test and Codebreaker, his tutor, was nowhere to be found. Everyone else in the apartment complex seemed to be at work as well. I couldn't find any of his regular watchers. Regardless, that bag has some light grade energon and treats for him if he gets hungry. It also has as some drawing stuff and some digi-pads if he gets bored. He'll be quiet though. He's always so quiet and well behaved. Half the tenants didn't even know he existed until I started taking him for walks when Sentinel Prime-Magnus I mean Minor was at work."

Cliffjumper didn't even know how to react as the femme patted the little blue helm before she knelt down and kissed him on the forehead, stating, "Be good for Cliffjumper. Be quiet and don't distract the good military bots. Your daddy is in a meeting with our Commonwealth's wonderful Magnus."

Patting the small helm again she asked, "And who is the current Magnus?"

"Ultra Magnus," the small mech stated.

"Very good. Your current government test is next week with your tutor, so if you have time, study that. Mister Cliffjumper will probably help you if you need help, right?" she said pointedly, staring at the utterly confused mech.

Not knowing what else to do, Cliffjumper nodded.

"Great, see you later little trooper and you," she pointed at the red mech, placing her hands together in an apologetic manner, bowing slightly. "Tell Sentinel sorry. I know he thinks it's too dangerous for Echo to be in the fortress, but I mean really … Megatron has been captured. How dangerous can it be? Regardless, I know he told me never to bring him here, but none of the other tenants are home to take him, and I need to go. Thank you sooooo much. I'll buy you energon or something if Sentinel jumps your aft to hard. Bye!"

She was then gone as quickly as she came, running pass a confused looking Bluestreak. The mech then walked forward and just stared with Cliffjumper and the Sentinel mini-me. Not liking the glances of horror and uncontained curiosity he was getting, Echo could barely whisper, "C-can I have my pack? I need to study."

Nodding, Cliffjumper handed it to the youngling and gave Bluestreak, reluctantly, a begging look as he sent a private comm, =I have no idea how to take care of a sparkling.=

=And you think I do? I was an only child. And he's a youngling, by the way, given he's in his first upgrades. He's probably near his second or third vorn actually,= corrected the grey mech.

=That doesn't make it better! T-this is … what is going on?! What just happened? I'm not cut out for kids and apparently I'm a terrible secretary! I only caught half of what the femme was rambling, but there is no way this is happening!=

=Assistant,= corrected the other mech for him.

=Regardless, how did I not know that my own boss has a kid? Frag. Am I so unobservant? I thought that Shockwave was a fluke since he was a spy, but now I am starting to wonder if I'm even cut out to be an Autobot,= he wailed over the comm, nearly making the younger communications officer cringe back.

=Hey, hey. Calm down Cliffjumper. You know no one blames you for that. And what do you mean by 'your boss'. Sentinel doesn't have a kid … Does he?=

Cliffjumper waved towards Echo, basically telling Bluestreak to stare some more. It was then, staring closer at the small blue mech (whom was leaning against the wall with a digi-pad nearly hiding his face so he wouldn't have to look at the two older mechs) that the grey mech understood Cliffjumper's distress, =Okay, he really, really, really looks like Sentinel, but there is no way. He doesn't have a kid. An officer as high as him … everyone would know.=

=Apparently everyone doesn't know. It has to be his kid. The pretty little femme, Low Tone, used all three of his names,= sarcastically replied the angry mech.

Blinking his optics off and on, only one thing came to Bluestreak's mind, =Dang, we are terrible underlings. If I made this kind of mistake on the field, I would be sent back to boot camp. This isn't a test, is it? I know I'm new, but this is kind of mean Cliffjumper.=

Cliffjumper rolled his optics. =This isn't a test. I still can't believe Sentinel reproduced and the femme let him keep the kid.=

Bluestreak frowned as he walked around the desk, watching Cliffjumper type away at his desk like a mad mech. He was looking for files on his boss to see if his life insurance records noted a dependent, or if there was some footnote like an offline mate.

Frowning, rubbing the back of his helm, Bluestreak dared ask, =Are you sure he wasn't the carrier?=

=Pff, unlikely. Didn't you overhear? She called him a single creator? I doubt he would have carrier a sparkling to full term if he was alone in the beginning,= said Cliffjumper, both of them stalling to give Echo a sympathic look.

Echo just tried to ignore them and pay more attention to his digi-pad. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here. He just hoped nothing bad happened because of it.

…

Bumblebee slammed on the gas, growing even more frustrated. Ratchet's message about Sari's creator had gotten to him and Bulkhead when they were in the middle of repairing a space bridge. They had wanted to come back immediately, but the captain of the Jackhammer wouldn't hear of it. Fragger. It was a family emergency! Bumblebee knew that activating space bridges in Megatron's old territory were important to trying and create peace with the non-commonwealth Cybertronain city-states, but did they really have to wait through the repair of the space bridge?

Luckily, after seeing how bothered the two mechs were, Runner had allowed the two to use the space bridge they just fixed. Bumblebee had even called ahead to see how Sari was taking her creator's … deactivation.

Ratchet, the fragger, had sent him to Earth first to collect her belongings. To help her settle apparently.

Really? He needed to see her. Not her plushy collection.

Slamming on his breaks in front of Sumdac Tower, part of him surprised it hadn't already been renamed already with how quickly humans changed things, Bumblebee transformed. Half of the humans in the vicinity jumped and yelped in surprise, most gaping like fools from behind holo-glasses. Frowning, wanting to snap at all the humans for staring like none of them had ever seen a bot before, stalled his glossa when he recalled: none of them had.

It had been almost two vorns since they awoke and introduced themselves to the city of Detroit. To a human … that was two lifetimes. Everyone that he had ever met in this city … was gone.

Frowning, his spark suddenly feeling even worse for not minding Sari nor her father more, he almost jumped out of his own armor when a middle aged, scruffy, scientist looking dude came out of the tower to greet them.

"Wow, that was quite an entrance," said the human, his dark brown hair slightly unkempt unlike most of the people on the streets. Really, some of that hair was gravity defying. Sari had once tried to explain the complexities of human hair and their social implications, but he had grown bored a few klicks in.

"I take it you are Bumblebee," said the human, strangely acting quite civilized unlike most of the corporate dogs the young-bot was used to seeing from Sumdac's business.

There was a transformation sequence and suddenly Bulkhead was next to him, claw outstretched, "And I'm Bulkhead. Who are you?"

Only slightly wary, the man reached a hand forward, shaking the claw carefully. Then, smiling as warmly as his weariness would allow, the man stated, "I am Cade Yeager and I am apparently the new owner of Sundac Industries. It was … it was quite a surprise. Let me tell you. I thought I was just a no name inventor for the company, and then Sundac's will was read so now I'm here. I know he liked chatting with me and Sari thought I was funny in an eccentric way, but I didn't know he liked me that much."

Frowning, but making no mention of Sundac's choices, the human continued, "Sorry about Isaac. He was a good man."

There was moment of silence, Bulkhead nodding.

Not knowing what else to say, the man continued, "I take it you are here for Sari's things. She didn't leave with much except the clothes on her back."

"Of course, unless you threw them away already," barked Bumblebee, part of him already thinking that this man was no different than Porter C. Powell. The list was short of humans he actually would run over in a dark alley, but Porter was on that list … well, was.

Humans were so frail.

He as so glad that Sari wasn't really human.

Yeager immediately cringed away from the hostile tone, still overwhelmed that he was talking with an actual extraterrestrial. Even though the Autobot-Decepticon War had nearly ripped the city apart a 160 years ago, that didn't mean that Earth had become all gun-ho for space exploration. In fact, if anything, the interactions with the Cybertronians had stunted the young race's want for exploration. Instead, Earth had tried to become a lot of self-sustaining while looking for ways to stay out of the limelight of the bigger, badder, and older species in the universe.

If the Autobots stopped to actually pay attention to the small planet's politics they would know that … Earth was now afraid of them.

It took all of Yeager's self-control to remain passive and rooted. He did not want to start a war with the Autobots. Earth was young when it came to the space race. They could not afford a war with these metallic beings. Luckily, as if noticing the inventor's slowly growing anxiety, Bulkhead pushed Bee aside slight, stating, "Don't mind him. He's just … upset. Is everything still in her room or what?"

Still eyeing the fuming yellow bot wearily, Yeager tried to regain a strained smile, "Well, I didn't touch it. Just in case she wanted to come back. She is always welcome back as long as I'm here. I will take you to her room to grab some things if she needs them though."

Bulkhead nodded, just glad he could fit into the doors and surprisingly into the elevator. Ratchet had visited a few times, so he could only presume it was foresight on Sumdac's part.

Unfortunately, the ride up the elevator felt painfully slow. The elevator music was seemingly the same tune that had played 160 years ago. It was awkward and confined to say the least.

The poor human nearly fled out the doors when they finally opened, Bumblebee all but stomping after. Bulkhead merely squirmed out, stalling with a sigh when he saw that Sari's door was only Bumblebee sized. He liked Earth in some ways … and other's he did not. Well, at least he got to ride the elevator up. It seemed that Bee would be doing all the packing though.

Stalling in front of the door, a decorative holo-plaque stating 'Sari' still on the surface, the brunette man smiled awkwardly and waved his hand over the keypad in order to open the door.

It didn't even blink. It was supposed to blink even if it rejected someone's bio-scan.

Bumblebee started tapping his foot impatiently, his youthful voice raising on octane. "We are waiting here."

Smiling nervously, missing the pointed glare Bulkhead threw in Bumblebee's direction, the human waved his hand over the scanner again.

Nothing.

Smiling back once more as his nervousness grew, the words horrible-alien-war-created-over-idiot-inventor-that-was-unable-to-open-a-door echoing in his head, Yeager finally took out a screwdriver and forced the scanner open. He then manually crossed two wires, the door swooshing open. The human quickly stepped in, waving his arms in a show of the room.

"See, everything's where Sari left it. Even her dirty socks … Please don't start a robot war," tried to joke the inventor … only to have Bumblebee's stingers point at him.

Fuck.

Yet, before Yeager could even imagine seeing the words idiot-inventor float over every holo-paper in America, the yellow transformer yelled, "Get out of the way, science-man, there's someone behind you!"

Yeager, jumping out of the way, turned his head in time to see the smaller yellow mech rush forward and to … a shadow … that was standing over a desk, a small IPad 3XPi in its horrible rotting corpse hand. W-was that his dead father? No, no … that isn't right. Was it actually metal and rusting? What was that thing?!

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" seemed to ask Bumblebee, mirroring the human's thoughts. The shadow merely turned his head, slowly, deliberately, as if marginally annoyed but nowhere near threatened by Bumblebee. If anything, its purple mist like optics seemed to roll in slight irritation.

"Don't roll your creepy optics at me, buddy," groused Bumblebee. "W-what do you have there? Give it to me."

The shadow figure, roughly the size of Prowl if one wanted to be specific, looked at the IPad in his hand. Then, as if smiling, he purposely started too pressed down one finger on the thin device, the glass squealing for a moment before it started to crack. Yet, before it could shatter to pieces, Bumblebee was suddenly running forward, electricity jumping across the room.

The shadow figure nimble side stepped, electricity suddenly exploding a floating alarm clock, sparkly glittery yellow plastic going everywhere.

The figure then chuckled deeply as he threw the IPad into the air, the yellow bot meeting him head on, stingers going for his gut. The shadow merely slid his forearm guard forward just in time to redirect the nasty stab. Bee's stingers hit Sari's bed instead, feathers going everywhere. The shadow then gracefully sidestepped Bee's punch and grabbed the youngling by the same arm, flipping him over like a sack of potatoes. Finishing his display, the shadow then neatly caught the I-Pad before it hit the ground, chuckling darkly like this was little more than a game.

Bumblebee, coughing feathers out of his vents, watched in horror as slim and quick clawed digits few over the IPad, a request for delete all files reflecting above the small device.

"Oh no, you don't!" cried Bee, kicking out with a sliding movement that would have made Prowl proud. He didn't know when he had started to actually pay attention to his hand to hand combat, but the young mech could only guess that it had something to do with Jazz's time with them on Earth … and the deep regret he had about Prowl.

He honestly couldn't even visit the older mech in the long term care center. It made his spark feel sick and tight in its casing. Maybe if he had screwed around less, trained harder, listened better or learned a little more servo-fu … Prowl might be more than a still body in a berth. He was alive, Jazz could attest to that, but comatose. It could be vorns until his spark recovered enough to have the strength to run his systems … if ever.

Bumblebee never wanted to feel that helpless again. That's why he wandered around with Bulkhead and his space bridge maintenance instead of allowing Optimus to place him somewhere. Anything was better than a reminder than he had been useless as an Autobot!

"Don't mock me!" growled out Bee uncharacteristically as the mech jumped over his foot. The shadow mech even laughed like it was a simple game of jump rope. Bee, anger flaring in his young spark, rolled onto his back and then used his legs like a springboard, his two peds hitting a metallic chassis, the sound of cracking glass filling the room.

Score! At least the mech wasn't all creepy whisking shadows. He had some kind of form.

Yet, just when Bee finally got to his feet, a smirk on his lips at his good hit, he stalled. There, on the floor halfway draped tween a chair and knocked over bookshelf, wasn't a shadowed form anymore. It was a Prowl … ripped up, broken, bleeding, optic burnt-out Prowl. He was even touching energon on his cracked chassis glass, his gaze accusing.

"Bumblebee … w-why? Haven't I given enough?" suddenly said Prowl, energon dribbling out of the side of his mouth.

Shaken to his core, his systems whirling about as he tired to find something to say, he Bumblebee choked, "P-prowl, but you're … you're on Cybertron. In a berth."

"Yes, in a berth! Why was I punished like that? Why do you get to live a life of your choosing while I rust there! All because you weren't strong enough! I had to make the hard choices. Not you. You did nothing but play around! I had to sacrifice myself!" Prowl was now staggering to his feet, little rust flakes seeming to float to the floor along with a small dribble of energon.

Purple energon.

"No, no. Prowl, it wasn't like that," choked Bumblebee, his servos starting to shake. Not because of the gore or the horror, but because Prowl was now giving voice to all of his insecurities. Ratchet had tried to talk to him about it a few times after Bumblebee once told him he felt responsible, but he couldn't stand how soft the medic's voice was or how kind his touch had been upon his shoulder. They had even wanted him to speak with the mental health specialist at Autobot headquarters. When a mech named Rung had requested a meeting with him about his mourning process, it had been too much.

Bulkhead had been the only one who he hadn't felt guilty towards. So he, admittedly, followed after Bulkhead like a lost puppy. Hoping to loose himself to the stars.

Sari was the only one that made him want to leave his self exclusion.

"Wasn't it? You won't even visit me," bit out Prowl as he stood up, shadows seeming to drip from his form.

"I'm sorry. I just … I just-"

"You don't even care. Do you? You are just glad that it wasn't you, aren't you? Aren't you?!" growled Prowl, his tone getting darker and darker and so very unlike the ninja-bots usual tone. Bumblebee couldn't see past that though. He couldn't see past one of his life's heaviest guilt trips.

"I'm sorry. Please … I just … I just can't look at you!" finally cried out Bumblebee, tears starting to gather at the corner of his optics. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. It was like a thing had crawled out of his nightmares. For the first time in his entire life … he wanted … he wanted to hurt himself.

'There is a window right there. It is a mighty far fall,' seemed to whisper a voice in his head.

Immediately Bee's programs went crazy in his helm, rushing and running around trying to find he source if the destructive code. The overwhelming force of those medical programs actually caused him to stumbled and before he knew it, Prowl was suddenly standing over him his fingers slowly transforming into dagger-like digits. There was also a smile so predatory it seemed like a jagged grin was cutting into the ninja-bot's face.

"Well, you'll never have to look at anything, ever again," chuckled Prowl, those claws now descending upon a partially crippled Bumblebee as his systems tried to overcome the dark thoughts.

Were those even his thoughts? Did it matter?

'Maybe it's was for the best.'

Yet, before the world could go dark, a green wrecking ball was suddenly slamming in through the open door like a godsend. It slammed right into the shadow figure. There was choking noise on the impersonator's part before he was sent flying like a rag doll, dropping the IPad and smashing through a nearby window like it was nothing. Glass raining all about.

Bee, for a moment sat there, surprised. Venting a few times in panic, he tripped to his peds and forward, wearily peaking out of the broken window. There had been no scream of a falling mech and nor the squeal of long nails digging into the skyscraper's metallic siding. There was nothing … just the sound of trickling glass falling stories down along with the sound of the wind rippling pass curtains.

It, he, whatever it was, the Shadow, was gone. It was almost like he had never been.

"What the frag was that?" whispered Bumblebee as he swallowed thickly and cringed as his systems seemed to quarantine the destructive code from earlier, an alert popping up and stating that he needed to contact a medic as soon as possible. He buried the warning, feeling ashamed. If Ratchet, Optimus, anyone, found out he had had those kind of thoughts during a battle … they would have him in a desk job so fast his helm would spin.

Slowly turning to the human, Bee was about to ask the question again. Unfortunately, Yeager was still on his bum staring at the window in abject horror as if he had just seen a ghost.

Noting that the human looked just as surprised as he was, Bumblebee sighed. He doubted Yeager had an answers. Instead, he turned his attention to the small IPad on the floor. He slowly picked it up, the thin glass thing squealing slightly like it was threatening to crack further and yet stubbornly stayed together. Well, it seemed that the humans were starting to learn the definition of durability. Usually, when he touched any of this pad-thingies, they were broken in a klick.

Staring, his language files coming online, he read the English heading: Sari's Dream Dairy.

Looking back at the window and then down at the small damaged screen, Bumblebee couldn't help but mumble, "What were you? And why would you want Sari's dream journal?"

The wind, roaring through the red curtains, had no answer.

…

Elsewhere, far from a yellow bot with too many questions, Sari woke up with a scream. She scared a poor old medic half to deactivation before he was able to gather himself enough to rushed into the berthroom. Then, patting her back, he tried to calm her as she choked on her own tears, her eyes drifting over the sun lit room. She was looking for one specific shadow.

Unicron's shadow.

XXX

Paw07: This chapter was soooo much longer. Like twice as long. I didn't expect the Low Tones or Yeager scenes in there … but bam. They are there now. My brain was like, "We needssss this in here. For dramasss." Apparently my brain has a weird accent. Regardless, next chapter should be soon since its nearly done. Probably next weekend. Enjoy and sorry about the crappy proofread. Its late and I just want to go to bed. XD