Perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop within the city of Kalis, N squatted in complete silence. His optics scanned the desolate landscape below as he searched for something—anything that was alive. His wings, folded neatly along his back, twitched slightly in the faint, chill breeze. They caught the soft glow of moonlight that filtered through the dark clouds hanging over the city, making him wonder if they were noticeable enough to be seen from the ground—if maybe he was accidentally giving himself away. He wondered if he should move to another spot. Maybe go across the city again. Or he could stalk the doors of the colony once more, maybe knock on it again. He could even attempt to try and stick a letter through the—
"Ah, come on, robo-brain," N softly whispered to himself as he shook his head moments in frustration. "Focus for me here."
He surveyed the ground carefully, his optics sharpening to pick out the smallest of details—be it a hint of movement, a glint of light from a visor—he was looking for anything that might confirm he wasn't completely alone in this forsaken place. In the corner of his vision, the Spire loomed like a jagged scar cutting into the heavens. He tried his best to ignore it.
He was hoping to find NAILs from the nearby underground colony. Not to hunt them. Rather, he just wanted to talk. To spread the news that the war might soon come to an end—that Optimus was returning to Cybertron with a way to heal the planet. That there would come a time where they can be allowed to walk the surface of Cybertron without the fear of…
The fear of being thought as a threat.
N needed to remind himself of what Elita-1 had told them about the NAILs—that they were an unknown factor, a danger within the war. One that needed to be kept down at all costs. It was a confusing set of orders that many of their fellow Autobots opposed—some even straight up left the cause because of it—but J had tried her best to at least explain to him why it was needed. She told him that they needed to hurt those they sought to save because, 'Fear will control more than blades or guns ever could.' Terror would keep the majority of the NAILs in hiding and out of the war. It lessened the chance of them interacting with the Decepticons and being turned against the Autobot cause.
'Oh, N, I understand that this can be a little complicated. Just do as you're told, and I promise you the ends justify the means.'
He often wondered about J's words. He wanted to follow them unquestionably, to be useful to her, Elita, and the Autobot cause. But…
Something wasn't right about it. He felt sure that at one point he was once told something about the NAILs—what, he couldn't recall. The many, many years of the war blended together. Made it hard to remember so much, especially given how often he would get damaged. He once talked about it with V. Her advice was for him to stop getting shot in the head. "Easier said than done." N bitterly chuckled at the thought, before a sharp beeping sound can be heard as his visor flickered to the color blue. He was getting a private transmission on the Autobot frequency. Someone was calling him, and he could already guess who.
With a mutter of "biscuits" under his breath, N reluctantly accepted the call.
V's voice burst through the line, as sharp and as impatient as always when she was upset. "[N, you better tell me where you are right now.]" she began without preamble. "[Because I talked to Kup, I talked to Chromia, I even talked to Blurr—and you know I hate doing so because that guy is a literal motor mouth, but I had to because no one knew where you were!]"
N flinched at the sheer volume of her words and placed a hand over his visor with a hint of shame in his movement. "Uh, I'm not here at the moment. Can you leave a message after the beep?" He tried, knowing full well such a trick wouldn't work.
"[Don't get cute with me]", again he flinched at her words, "[I've got half a mind to hunt you down and just, ugh—]" There was a sudden pause, and N could hear the sound of a deep breath crackling through the transmission. When V spoke again, her tone was quieter, almost exhaustive. "[N, you can't just disappear on us like that. Especially not after what happened to Impactor. Please, just tell me where you are.]"
A pit of guilt began to grow within N's spark chamber as he could hear V's distress. "I'm sorry, V. After the funeral, I needed a bit of time to be alone, so…I came back home. I'm in Kalis right now."
"[You went back?]" He can hear the blatant bafflement in her words. "[Vector Sigma, N. Are you okay? I mean, if you want I can come by. Just tell me where you are and we can meet—]"
"No, no, it's okay." N lowered himself to sit along the edge of the building, letting his legs dangle freely in the air. "I mean, I'm not actually okay… but you know…" He let the words trail off, leaving them suspended in the silence as his thoughts drifted to Impactor.
The funeral had been held in one of the least populated parts of Iacon, honored with a traditional Wrecker-style sendoff. It was a somber event, conducted in the brightest time of the day.
Which meant the Disassembly Squad couldn't attend.
It was a flaw in their mechanical design—one N still didn't fully understand. The augmentations that granted them advanced weaponry and self-repair capabilities came with a significant drawback: an issue of overheating. Their systems simply couldn't handle prolonged activity without sufficient cooling. To compensate, they needed to ingest energon. Specifically, inner energon. Or energon-blood as it is also referred to. The black, oil-like substance that flowed through each and every drone. Something so warm and sweet, yet…horrific.
That was why they hunted. Why they feasted on those they killed—not just as a means of survival, but also, inescapably, as a form of indulgence. N would be the first to admit there was a guilty pleasure in it, a dark satisfaction he didn't care to dwell on too often. Most of the time, he tried not to think about it at all. Especially because whenever other Autobots learned of such needs, their reactions were anything but welcoming.
But Impactor had been different. He was one of the first bots to accept them, to make them feel as though they truly belonged within the Autobot ranks. That acceptance made what Elita did all the more hurtful. J had understood the commander's reasoning: the funeral had to be held during daylight, when it was safest from the risk of a Decepticon attack. V, however, had been furious, calling it unfair that they couldn't attend the ceremony. ' It's the least we could do—he was our friend, ' she'd said, her anger righteous but ultimately ignored by the higher command.
N had remained silent. He had already said what he needed to say, long before the ceremony. He believed that his words, spoken in private at the theater, were enough.
"...The rest is silence," he had whispered to himself.
"[What?]"
He shook off the memory, realizing it was weighing too heavily on him. "Sorry. My head is in just in a lot of places at once. I just need a little bit of time, I promise, I will—"
A somewhat familiar loud crackling noise interrupted him. It came from beneath where he sat. "Oh, come on—ah!"
The edge of the roof he was sitting on suddenly gave way, the structure collapsing under his weight. In an instant, he was sent plummeting through the air. Without hesitation, his wings snapped open, their mechanisms whirring as he attempted to stabilize himself. But the falling debris followed him. Pieces of jagged metal struck his wings, tearing through the delicate systems. He lost control, his descent accelerating.
Moments later, N crashed into the snow at the base of the building, the impact throwing up a massive cloud of snow and dust that lingered in the air like smoke. He lay sprawled in the crater of his fall, large chunks of metal scattered across and embedded in his frame, with jagged shards piercing through several parts of his body.
"...Ow," he muttered, the word laced with a mixture of pain and resignation.
"[What happened?]" V's voice erupted through his comms, filled with concern.
Slowly, N pulled himself into a sitting position, every ache and pain flaring through his body like bolts of electricity. "I'm okay. I just fell—" He flinched and quickly grabbed at his tail, preventing the syringe-like tip from stabbing into his own leg. "Oh boy, I nearly pricked myself again." He sighed in relief. "That actually would have hurt a lot worse."
Despite the undeniable pain coursing through him, N couldn't help but smile when he heard V's dismissive chuckle over the line. "[Okay, we seriously need to talk about your luck. It's becoming bad comedy.]"
"J usually calls it mediocre," N quipped as he began to pull the jagged pieces of metal from his body, one by one. With each shard removed, his wounds would close by themselves, the faint hiss of steam signaling his self-repair systems at work.
As he worked, N's thoughts wandered. His gaze turned toward his hands, watching as they transformed into long, narrow claws with mono-molecular edges. They gleamed within the moonlight as he used them to grip and pick at his smaller stab wounds. When he had taken out the last piece of foreign metal from his body, he flexed his claws experimentally before turning his attention to his torso, observing as the gashes in his plating knitted themselves back together without the aid of a CR chamber.
For what felt like the hundredth time in as many years, N wondered what it would be like if Impactor—or any other Autobot, for that matter—had the same ability to heal like he and his team did. How many lives could have been saved? How many friends might still be here?
He was thankful for V's voice cutting through his reflection.
"[Hey, for real though. Is there a reason you went to Kalis? I mean, I can't imagine why you'd want to go back there, especially with what happened… unless…]" Her voice trailed off, and he could hear the sound of her sigh over the comm line. "[Let me guess—you think it's a good idea to try and make friends with the NAILs, again .]"
A nervous chuckle escaped N as he slowly pulled himself up from the ground. Brushing off the snow and debris clinging to his frame, he started to walk away from the rubble that had fallen with him. All while he folded his wings neatly within his back and changed his claws back to his normal hands.
"Okay, before we start," he said, trying to sound composed, "I just want to give my side of things. I mean, I only want to spread the news we just got."
He could practically feel V rolling her eyes. "[Oh, and what news would that be? That they taste better in a soup with cesium salami?]" N chose not to mention that in his opinion, they paired better with beryllium baloney. That wasn't the point he wanted to make.
"V, listen. Optimus is coming back to Cybertron. Things are going to change soon. I'm doing my part in that. We need to start somewhere, and for me, that means reaching out—making actual contact with these colonies. I'll tell them that Cybertron will be fixed—"
"[We don't know that it can be fixed, N.]"
"Optimus said he could fix it. I believe him, V."
"[You'd believe him if he told you that eating chocolate-covered wheel-nuts would give you the power to talk to Mini-Con dolphins!]"
"...Bulkhead was really convincing when he told me that."
"[N!]"
"Okay, okay," he quickly conceded, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Look, I know it sounds like a lot, but I feel that this is important. I'm going to talk to them, and when I do… I'm going to apologize."
There was a loud, exasperated "[What?]" from V, her disbelief practically vibrating through the comms. "I'm trying something new," he offered tentatively, but her reply quickly dashed any hope of this being an easy call.
"[N, trying something new is when I get bored and decide to make balloon animals out of whatever drone I can find. What you're doing is just—really? An apology ?]"
N stopped walking and placed a hand over his visor again. He knew how naïve it sounded. The idea that anyone would actually listen to him, especially given the history he and his team shared with the NAILs, was unreal. But he still wanted to try.
"They deserve one. We need to start thinking about what will happen after the war, and an apology—it's the least we can do. I'll say sorry to each colony we terrorized, right after I tell them that the true Prime is—"
"[N]" V interrupted, her tone flat with sheer annoyance. "[I'm going to ask this as seriously as I can. What do you think is actually going to happen when you meet one of these colony drones? Hmm? You think a 'sorry' is going to fix everything? You gonna make them a note written in crayon? 'Dear whoever, I'm so sowwy. Plezz forgive me'?]"
"I could make something like that if you think it would help," N retorted, his attempt at levity weak and completely unconvincing.
Her tone grew sharper, more deadpan. "[Please stop fooling around. I get that some of these colony drones can be pretty stupid, but they're not going to just forget what we did.]"
"It's not about forgetting," N countered, his voice growing more resolute. "It's about being Autobots. We have a chance to end this war—peacefully. Isn't that why we do what we do? Isn't that why we're here, to finish the job we were given?"
V's voice dropped, becoming colder and almost distant. "[Right. We do our job, and then we're left alone.]" Her words felt less directed at him and more like she was speaking to herself.
"...What?"
"[Never mind. Forget I said anything.]" She tried to sound dismissive, but her words hung in the air, bitter and heavy with an emotion N couldn't quite place.
He pressed on cautiously, feeling as if he were stepping onto unstable ground. "V, is there something I'm missing—"
V was just as quick to steer the conversation. "[I understand what you're trying to do, N. But you didn't answer my questions. Do you honestly think they'll listen to you? Forgive you?]" Her frustration was becoming harder to suppress. "[Hell, we don't even know if they're tied to Impactor's death or not. Have you thought about that?]"
She didn't hold back, her next words were as sharp as a blade from her own arm. "[Say you find the Cons that killed him, and they're with that colony of NAILs. Say the whole colony decided to side with the Decepticons—meaning not only was Elita proven right for being a paranoid nut—but also that you're going to try and befriend the same bots who helped kill Impactor. What then?]"
He didn't want to, but the thought crept in anyway. An entire colony of neutral drones suddenly pledging loyalty to the Decepticons would be devastating to the war effort.
"...That's just the worst-case scenario—"
"[Humor me]" she snapped, cutting him off. "[Just answer the question. What then? I know Optimus talked about making peace with the Cons, and you're all for whatever he says, but N... Impactor's spark chamber is still warm.]" N slowly pulled his hand down his face, his optics locking onto the Spire in the distance. It loomed above the ruins like a specter—a monument to what they did through the war, just as J said. "[What happens if they apologize, huh? What then? Are you just going to forgive them? Let it slide because 'that's how the cookie crumbles' or some slag like that?]"
"...I don't know," N admitted honestly, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of his own thoughts somehow grew heavier. If he were to be completely honest—he hoped he'd never learn who killed his friend. Putting a face on the unknown killer would somehow make it feel worse. Would make him wonder too much.
Like if the killer enjoyed what they did.
"[What do you mean, you don't know?]"
"I mean... I don't know what I'll do. I just feel like I'm missing context about—"
"[Context?]" V cut him off again, her voice incredulous as ever as she scoffed at him. "[We put our friend in a casket, N! And you're talking about context ? The context is that they wanted to kill him—there's nothing else you need to know! We're in a war, for Primus' sake. That's your context.]"
N let out a heavy sigh. "I know." He closed his optics, trying to focus on his words rather than the swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I know we're in a war. But Impactor had a message from Optimus—a message promoting peace between Decepticons and Autobots. And if he did run into Decepticons, then maybe he…"
Silence lingered on the line for a few moments. N took the opportunity to compose himself, taking slow, calming breaths. When V broke the silence, her voice put his concerns into stark words. "[You want to know if Impactor told them—or showed them the message—and they still killed him.]"
"I just… want answers." N reached up to tug off his hat before he began to aggressively run a hand through his hair—he tried to untangle the mess in his mind. "The more I try to think about it, the more confused I get. No one willingly stepped foot in Kalis for years. We'd only see the occasional group of drones from the colony—and they don't have much of a choice if they want to leave their home.
But then yesterday happened, and I just can't wrap my head around it. Impactor coming to Kalis is one thing. But him being attacked by Decepticons, right by the Spire? That doesn't make sense. We've had it for millions of years, and no Con has ever gone near it. Then suddenly, a team shows up to attack Impactor here? Why? Was it a targeted attack, did they know about the message or was it random, were we the targets?" He rubbed his temples, the frustration clear in his voice. "And why was Impactor even here in the first place? Why did he want to meet me specifically?
If he had somehow got a message from Optimus, why didn't he deliver it to Elita. She is Optimus's wife for crying out loud! If not her, why not go to Crystal City and give it to Ultra Magnus. I mean, that guy is Optimus's big brother. That makes way more sense than coming to me. And now, I think I am remembering that maybe he was trying to warn me that something was gonna happen to him, or am I projecting that idea, I don't know. I really don't know anymore. I just want it to make sense."
"[N…]" V's voice softened, the sharp edges of frustration melting into concern.
"V, I don't know what I'm going to do when I find those Decepticons." His voice dropped, heavy with uncertainty. "I don't know what I'd do if they apologized. Maybe I'll kill them anyway, because that's all we've ever done to them." He rolls his optics, with them looking toward the Spire again, seeing it tower over the ruins. "The NAILs, the Decepticons, even our fellow Autobots think we're just… just murder drones. And honestly? I'm starting to think they're right. I mean, even you're saying we're monsters."
"[N, I—I didn't mean…]" There was a tremor of regret in V's voice, it was quickly muffled as she tried to regain her composure. "[...When I called us that, I—]"
"No, V. Please, just hear me out." N cut her off gently but firmly. "I know you were just upset, but there is some truth to what you said. I mean, we literally sleep surrounded by corpses. We've killed more bots than we can count—we even need to eat some just so we don't die. Of course we are monsters, what else would we be?"
He shrugged his shoulders, knowing full well that V couldn't even see the motion.
"But that's why I have to try something different ." N's tone suddenly changed, a quiet determination began to thread through his words. "Yeah, we're not exactly 'normal,' but that doesn't mean we can't try to be more than what we've been told we are. We don't have to be defined by the war or what anyone else sees in us. We can choose to be something better. That's our right as sentient beings—to change, to transform. It's a…freedom we have." He paused to allow his gaze to sweep across the snow-dusted rubble around himself. "We just have to reach out and take that chance. We just have to try."
N's optics traced the faint stains of inner-energon beneath the snow, almost invisible now, but a haunting reminder of what had been. He knew he was responsible for most if not all of it.
"I want to apologize to the NAILs because I want to try and make right what we did to them," His thoughts were heavy with the memories of screams and energon-blood splatters. "I know it might not work, and they might still hate us. I wouldn't even be surprised if they tried to attack me on sight. But I don't care. I'm not doing this for forgiveness, V. It's about—"
"[Reconciliation]" V finished for him, an almost wistful chuckle being heard over the line. "[I remember you saying something like that about Impactor during the 'last words'.]" There was a pause, leaving a fragile silence stretching between them before she spoke again. "[Do you really believe Optimus is right? That this war can actually end?]"
N's optics dimmed behind his visor as he closed them, trying to imagine a world at peace. The harder he tried, the more distant and abstract it felt—a picture he couldn't fully paint. The realization saddened him. "I believe in him, V. I believe in the peace we fight for. But if I'm going to believe in anything, I have to try to make it real myself." He hesitated, then added quietly, "I'm sorry I just left without saying anything."
There was a brief pause before V sighed over the comms. "[Just leave a note or something next time, okay?]"
N felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He could almost see her pouting, wearing that rare expression of quiet remorse she usually buried beneath her sharp exterior. That side of V—the softer, more vulnerable part of her she showed only to him and, maybe, the Dinobots—always surprised him.
It was easy to forget she was the most homicidal member of their squad.
"[I'll try to keep J distracted so she doesn't come looking for you right away]" she added after a moment, her tone lightening. "[I'll give you as much time as you need to clear your head. But you've got to promise me something. The moment you run into trouble—and I mean any kind of trouble, even a mini-con gnawing at your ankles—you send a distress signal. Got it? We still haven't found those Cons, remember?]"
"Thanks, V," N said, a grateful chuckle escaping him. "You know, I always say J's the best, but you're up there too. Maybe even better."
"[Yeah, well, someone's gotta be the one actually thinking about what's best for you]" she quipped, her tone laced with playful smugness. He could imagine her rolling her optics with a smirk.
"I—" N began, but before the words could fully leave his mouth, the line cut out abruptly. His optics flickered, and the comm went silent. He sighed, shaking his head. "Why does no one say goodbye before they hang up?"
He adjusted his visor and looked around again. The city loomed around him, quiet as a graveyard. Twisted metal and ash-covered rubble stretched as far as the optic could see—a grim testament to the war's relentless toll. In the distance, the Spire jutted into the sky. Small flashes of red light from the countless [Fatal Error] messages of the dead drones flickered across its horrid surface. Maybe, someday, it could be taken down. Maybe he could begin to repair all the damage caused—his own and everyone else's. It would take time, likely more than he could imagine, but the possibility was there. Optimus Prime was coming, and he would help set things right. But for that to happen, N knew there had to be a foundation. Even if it was just one NAIL—one bot willing to talk—it would be a start.
"Only one way to find out," N muttered. "I better get to a better vantage point. Maybe to the west this time."
He tilted his head up to look at the sky, and something caught his attention—a shadow moving within the clouds overhead, trying to remain hidden from plain sight. In an instant, N twisted himself around to get a better look. His visor flared to life, and his optics zoomed in on the distant object.
It was a Decepticon dropship.
It cut through Kalis's airspace with cold efficiency, keeping itself at least 13,000 meters above the ground. It could hold up to twenty Decepticon troops at once and was known to carry enough firepower to demolish an entire building in seconds. A dangerous vessel for sure, but one that N had taken down numerous times by now. Though his mind wasn't focused on the idea of fighting such a thing.
Instead, he couldn't help but imagine what its presence here could mean. He wanted to remind himself of Optimus's message—the promise to give peace a chance. But his mind was filled with the unbidden image of Impactor's mutilated body. Before N even realized it, his hands had clenched into fists, his servos trembling with the anticipation of a fight. His teeth began to ache as the fangs shifted into place within his mouth, the craving for energon ringing in his head.
"…I just want to talk to them," he muttered to himself, his voice low and strained. Suddenly, his wings unfurled from his back with a sharp, mechanical hiss and his visor shifted, displaying a large, glowing X across his view.
"But maybe they deserve a bit of a scare first."