"By the Allspark..."
His voice was a whisper, and it was filled with horror. Optimus, who had been standing nearby and sensed the medic's shift in demeanor, moved over to his oldest friend.
"Ratchet," he enquired, "what's wrong?"
His friend did not respond immediately. He remained frozen, optics locked onto the tiny canister in his servo, causing the Guardian Knight to take a closer look at it.
It contained blood.
That, in itself, was not what sent a slow, creeping dread through Optimus's spark.
It was the color.
The blood inside was not the deep, rich crimson of human lifeblood. It was not the hue that had stained Jack's clothes the day he and Miko had returned from MECH's captivity, looking haunted, pale and covered in dried blood.
It was not the same shade that had oozed from Rafael's knee when he had tumbled down the stairs at the base just a few cycles ago, his small body frame with hiccupping sobs as the Autobots watched helplessly, unsure of what to do, while young Jack comforted him.
It was black.
An inky, unnatural abyss of liquid clung to the sides of the canister, and it looked far too thick and viscous for human blood. It was akin to corrupted energon, and it was something that should not exist in organic life. Something cold coiled around his spark.
"No," Optimus finally managed to say. Degradation in a human's life source meant they were dying, and he refused to believe that was true. He felt an unfamiliar heat rising in his spark, and he placed the emotion as anger. He was not one to let his emotions cloud his judgment, but this was too far.
What had MECH done to the children?
Ratchet turned to look at him, his concerned EM field brushing against his as he felt the anger bleeding into his friend's fields. He opened his mouth when Wheeljack burst into view, skidding to a halt by the Autobot insignia on the floor.
The swordsman transformed into his bipedal form, and in his servo rested Miko Her small, frail form looked small against the black metallic landscape she was upon, but she was alive. The Prime was relieved that she was safe. At least, from what his optics could immediately assess.
He knew better, as he seen just a few kliks before the inky black blood held in Ratchet's servos. His spark twisted painfully.
"Wheeljack?" he asked, keeping his EM field in tight. "What are you doing with Miko?"
The Wrecker bared his denta in a grin. "Protecting her."
Optimus had already suspected as much. Wheeljack had never been one to follow orders, least of all those given by Galloway. The Wrecker was technically unaffiliated, an independent force with no obligation to the Autobots beyond his own sense of loyalty.
Galloway had no jurisdiction over him.
And that meant Optimus could, just this once, overlook the Wrecker's disregard for human authority. Truthfully, he was grateful, more than he could ever express in mere words.
Something inside him withered when he looked into the girl's hazel optics, burning with resentment and betrayal. Her glare was accusing. And Primus, did she have the right to look at him that way.
Another failure rested heavily on his shoulders, adding to the burden he had been carrying for cycles now. Barely forty-eight hours ago, she had been ripped from their care, kicking and screaming, cursing the man who dragged her away into the elevator.
And he had done nothing.
The image replayed in his processor, over and over, a spark-wrenching loop of her voice, pleading and begging for them to stop Galloway. He had watched as she was dragged away, and he had let it happen. Even when his sire protocols demanded he prevent the youngling from being taken away, keep her at his side, even when his spark cried, he had no right.
But that didn't make it any easier to recall the helpless rage, an emotion he had not experienced since Elita, he had felt when Galloway had proclaimed they would never see their charges again. It didn't erase Miko's screams, and it wasn't any better staring into her baleful eyes.
The painful truth was this:
These children were not his. They were human. They belonged to a world that had allowed the Autobots to stay but could just as easily cast them out. The ice in their Human-Autobot alliance was fragile enough, and stepping too hard on it would cause it to break.
They were pushing it already by staying here longer than twenty-four breems, as Director Galloway had ordered them to go to Deigo Garcia. He had not taken this decision lightly, and he would try to make the man understand later. The treaty (even though the man had informed him was void) would allow them to take matters into their own servos in a case of an emergency
And there was an emergency. MECH, the most vile, evil thing he had ever seen on the face of this planet was running amok with their weaponry, experimenting on innocent children. They were just as bad as the Decepticons were, if not worse.
At least, in the very least, the Decepticons did not kill younglings. Though the Guardian Knight wouldn't put it below Megatron at this point, considering his increasingly growing erratic behavior, only enhanced by the poisoning his spark with dark energon.
"I see." It was all Optimus could manage.
Wheeljack's optics widened and then he frowned. Then, a single optical ridge quirked, and his optics all but said, What? No lecture?
Optimus did not elaborate.
Instead, he straightened and managed to muster an even sentence. "I'm afraid we have grave news."
"Yeah? Well, I got grave news too, boss," he shot back darkly.
Ratchet, who had been silent up until now, shifted beside his friend. His optics were grim, and when he spoke, it was in a voice stripped of any of his usual exasperation or sarcasm.
"I have already contacted Bulkhead, Arcee, and Bumblebee," the medic stated flatly.
Bulkhead came barreling down the hall to their left not a moment later, running as fast as he could. His field was filled with panic, but when saw Miko, his frame sagged with relief.
"Miko!"
He skidded to a stop, and he looked like he wanted to scoop her and hold her close. The femling wouldn't look at him, keeping her gaze downcast, rubbing her arm in a rhythmic movement.
The Wrecker deflated, his optics dimming. "Miko, I'm sor—"
"I'm afraid we have to get to business," Ratchet interrupted sharply, and his meaning was clear. There was no time for apologies right now. It could wait until later.
Bumblebee walked into the room, plating clamped tightly to his protoform, and his EM field tightly reeled in, unreadable. It hurt Optimus' spark to see the young scout down, knowing how much he was struggling with his anger.
Ratchet's optics took a distant look, and judging by the look, the Prime knew he was attempting to contact Arcee again. Once he was done, he held up the vial in his servo for all to see, the dark liquid sloshing inside the container.
Two sets of optics widened.
Bulkhead gasped, horrified. Wheeljack narrowed his optics, frowning and Miko looked disturbed.
"This is Miko's blood."
The CMO didn't give them time to react further. Instead, he turned to the console, swiftly pulling up a magnified display of the sample.
What appeared on the screen sent an immediate chill through every Cybertronian in the room.
Black and green, jagged shapes writhed and twisted, unnatural, wicked forms twisting and attacking one another. They lashed out, colliding with violent force, devouring the weaker ones in a grotesque, parasitic frenzy.
It was alive, but very much wrong. It defied everything they knew about organic physiology.
Without a word, Ratchet pulled up a second display.
Healthy, round, red, cellular structures appeared, bouncing harmlessly off one another.
"This," the medic stated, "is what human lifeblood is supposed to look like. Rafael—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to cover the lapse with forced professionalism. It was obvious that Rafael meant much to him, and he sorely missed him.
Hours after Director Gallway left, Ratchet had come to his quarters, confessing his concern about the human's decision to tear their charges away from them, despite his previous statement they might be better suited in 'federal custody.' A heated discussion followed, and neither of them had spoken of it since.
"I believe that both Miko and Jack—and I can only assume Rafael as well—have been infected with something of Cybertronian origin. It is rewriting their molecular structure," he went on, "specifically around their chass—chests.
"Their organic systems cannot process it," Ratchet continued grimly, optics filled with sorrow, holding up the vial once more. "And it is causing the degradation you see here."
"You mean... we're dying?!" Miko shrieked in horror, her serv—hands flying to her mouth, eyes wide.
The moment the words left her mouth, a roar tore from Bulkhead. The Wrecker slammed his fist into the abused concrete column of the medbay, cursing and growling.
"THOSE FRAGGING HUMANS!" he snarled, plating flaring, optics blazing.
Wheeljack let out a hiss, seething.
"How could they do this to them!"Bumblebee despaired, clenching his fists tightly. "They're going to pay!"
Optimus said nothing. His servos flexed and clenched into fists. So tightly, in fact, that the metal groaned in protest.
How? How could MECH do this to their own kind? To younglings?
"I think it's that E-X1."
All optics snapped to Wheeljack.
"What?" the CMO demanded.
"Miko told me about it," he elaborated, grimly. "Said those glitches injected her with something. Called it 'E-X1.' She thinks it has something to do with their plan, their sick, twisted plan." He hesitated for only a nano-klik before delivering the devastating conclusion. "Turning them into one of us."
The base fell into silence, everybot too shocked to speak.
"WHAT?!" Bulkhead's exclamation shattered the quiet, his mouth gaping open. His wide optics darted from Wheeljack to Miko, expression twisting into one of horror, confusion, and rage all at once.
Optimus felt his spark stall within his chamber, and a coldness that not even the Matrix could stop with its warmth, coiled around his spark. MECH had already committed atrocities in their relentless pursuit of Cybertronian power, but this... this was something beyond even their previous abominations.
Mankind was trying to play god, and they were willing to do whatever it took. And their first experiments were Jack, Miko and Raf. MECH was worse than even he had imagined.
They are obsessed with us, he thought darkly, this meaning becoming so much more real. MECH had become a real threat to them after Breakdown was captured and dissected, but they weren't prioritized because the Decepticons were the greater threat.
He was starting to think otherwise.
"Yeah..." Wheeljack muttered. "We don't know how yet. But I think it's got something to do with that rubbish." His optics darted toward the vial of darkened blood in Ratchet's servos, looking disgusted.
|"Arcee to base,"| the femme's voice came through. |"Requesting a GroundBridge."|
Without a word, he moved toward the control and entered her coordinates, pulling down the lever. The GroundBridge, in a colorful swirl of colors, snapped open.
Starscream had been taken care of, to an extent. Contrasting his previous beliefs, Transformers did not have their pain receptors off all the time, which was a curious thing to him. Why would they turn off the ability to feel pain when they could be unfeeling in combat?
Without alien data, it was a question he suspected he would take to his grave.
Grievously wounded, Starscream had managed to escape. Silas doubted he would make it far with the wounds inflicted. He was most likely bleeding out somewhere in the desert of Jasper, destined to be forgotten. The man decided he wasn't worth it and called off the search on him.
His thoughts were broken by a wail.
Next to him, Raf Esquivel suddenly burst into tears. He dismissed it as nothing more than a childish tantrum. But then he noticed that the cries went from petulant, childish sobs to screaming. Agonized screaming. It was then that he went limp in the arms of one of his soldiers, spasming and crying out.
The idiotic guard dropped him. The child curled in on himself, clawing at his chest. A sickly green glow peered from underneath the fabric where his heart should be, and his eyes caught the unnatural veins creeping up the boy's neck, spiderwebbing along the side of his face in glowing tendrils.
Silas realized that it was happening, but it was too early.
He cursed under his breath. They had calculated everything down to the minute, yet the process was unfolding a full day ahead of schedule. Something had accelerated the mutation, and that meant one thing: they were running out of time.
"Get Angelica here, NOW!" he barked at the guards, who immediately launched into action. Within a couple of minutes, Angelica Marquez appeared down the hall, lab coat billowing behind her as she sprinted toward them along with some medical staff.
"This... this wasn't supposed to happen yet!" she shouted over Rafael's screams. "We were supposed to have another twenty-four hours!"
She barely paused to assess the boy before snapping orders at the waiting medical staff. "Get him on the gurney! Now!"
The nurses lifted the trembling boy onto the stretcher, and the second he touched the surface, he abruptly stopped screaming. His entire body went rigid, pupils blown wide, expression slack. From within the depths of those unfocused brown eyes, an unnatural green glow spread from his iris to the sclera, consuming it in a blazing fire of green.
His lips moved, murmuring feverishly. "No... No, stop—please, I don't—I don't understand... Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop."
Angelica didn't waste time and pulled a syringe from her coat pocket, swiftly injecting a sedative into the delusional boy's arm. He jerked, and went still, eyes fluttering shut and hiding the unnerving glow. The weak fluttering of his chest was the only sign he was still alive.
"We don't have much time."
"How long?"
"An hour. Maybe less." She turned to the medical staff. "We have a very short window to do this right, exactly sixty minutes before the spark wither away completely."
"Take him to the silo," he ordered.
Raf was wheeled away in the direction of the silo that housed MECH's final drone. Its programming had been completed, thanks to the runt. To make room for the boy's spark, the drone's had been removed and left to die.
An energon tank was prepared to feed to spark the necessary energon it needed, vital to keep essence intact until the transfer was complete.
If the runt's transformation had begun prematurely, that meant the other two brats would most likely have the same issue. If he didn't acquire the other two children now, their bodies would reject the forming sparks before the transfer could take place. They would die, and his weapons would go with them to the grave.
That was not an option.
Luckily, he already had leverage.
June Darby and the Davis family were in his possession, held securely in another building of the facility, heavily guarded and completely cut off from the outside world. They were his bait, and the perfect tools to lure the remaining test subjects into his grasp.
However, there was one obstacle in his way. And that was the Autobots.
Silas had no doubt that the brats' alien protectors would do everything in their power to keep them out of his hands. They would shelter them, fight for them, maybe even die for them if it came down to it. He needed the brats to co—
Another idea struck him.
Within twenty-four hours, the Esquivel boy would dead and his weapon, should everything go to plan, would be ready. R-1 would need a test run to see how he would do with the new programming, and what better way for him to be tested against his former allies?
It brought a smile to his face.
Oh, this was too perfect of an opportunity.
Silas grabbed the Darby brat's phone from his belt—the one he had confiscated from the boy when he first came to MECH—and navigated through the boy's contacts until he found the one he was searching for.
Optimus Prime, the Autobot leader himself.
Silas pressed the dial button and lifted the phone to his ear, listening to the line ring.
The call connected, and a baritone, calm voice answered, powerful even through the static. |"Jack?"|
"Hello, Optimus Prime."
|"Silas."| The alien's came off rather hostile, which wasn't surprising, considering how he treated their charges. He was probably getting under all of their metal skins, if that was the proper term.
"I have few rather important individuals of yours. June Darby, for one. The Davis family as well. Now, I imagine their well-being is of some concern to you and your little band of extraterrestrial misfits."
There was a pause on the other end. |"Speak your terms."|
"I want Jack Darby and Miko Nakadai tomorrow evening at this time. I will send you the coordinates. They are to come alone. No Autobots. No tricks."
Silas could hear shouts of protest, most likely from others in the room. They would come either way, all the better for him and R-1.
Another hostile, gravelly voice crackled through. He assumed it was the one known as Bulkhead, one of the Transformers he had knocked out in Eastern Russia's ghost town. |"What have you done to Raf?|
"It's not what I've done," the man corrected, making his way to the silo where Raf would be transformed into MECH's ultimate weapon. "It's what's already happening to him. To all three of them." He let that sink in. "And if I don't get my hands on the other two soon, they will die. Which I assumed you've already figured out."
There was angry sounds coming from the other end, bringing a grin to his features.
|"WILL EVERYONE PIPE DOWN!"| An irate voice shouted, and instantly, everything went quiet.
"You will release them immediately."
Silas rolled his eyes. "Come now, Prime. We both know that's not how this works." He turned down a hall, arriving inside of the silo. Raf was being prepped. "I already told you what I want. The Darby boy and the Davis girl—alone. If I see even one Autobot tailing them, our deal is off, and you will never see the parents alive again."
|"You are making a grave mistake."|
MECH's leader chuckled. "Oh, I assure you, Prime. The only mistake would be underestimating me."
"If the brats are not at the coordinates by midnight tomorrow, I start sending bodies. Think it over," he continued casually. "But don't take too long. Tick-tock, Prime. The clock is running out."
And with that, he hung up.
Arcee hadn't responded to the first message.
Nor did she reply to the second.
She had seen Ratchet's transmissions, but she had ignored them, too consumed with rage to even think about answering. She paced furiously in the Nevada desert, angrily kicking up dust and rocks. The cobalt femme had resorted to self-harm, trying to distract herself with pain.
It didn't work.
Jack had been taken away from her.
After saving Jack from MECH's clutches, he had been immediately taken away by that human. That fragged up, pathetic excuse for a human! It made her seethe.
Just the thought of his name brought another wave of anger. That idiot had forced them to cut off all contact with their human allies, and he was giving MECH the opportunity they needed to strike. If he hadn't meddled, if he hadn't stuck his nose where it didn't belong—
She could properly protect Jack.
The cobalt femme wouldn't have had to live through the terror of losing him all over again if it weren't for him. Now, she had to feel the helpless agony she had felt too many times of not knowing if he was alive, completely at the mercy of MECH whenever they decided to swoop in and grab him.
Optimus had been the only thing keeping her from completely losing it.
When she had first received the news, something in her just... snapped. Just like what she felt with Airachnid, a burning hatred spreading through her fuel lines, and she had turned, snarling, prepared to hunt down Galloway and tear him apart with her bare servos if she had to—
But Optimus had stopped her.
He had restrained her, physically holding her back, until she went still. The moment he let go, she transformed and rushed out of the base, driving down the highways of Jasper, Nevada, aimlessly wondering around until she found the perfect secluded spot.
The third message finally came.
|"Arcee, respond immediately. This is an emergency."|
His previous messages hadn't held anything that could indicate there was something wrong.
Her thoughts immediately snapped to Jack. Something had happened to Jack.
She whipped around so fast that the gravel beneath her kicked up into the air. |"Arcee to base. Requesting a GroundBridge."|
Within seconds, the swirling vortex of green light erupted before her. She charged through without pause, already bracing for the worst, already running through a dozen scenarios of what could have possibly happened.
She emerged on the other side, striding into the base, optics scanning wildly until she found Ratchet standing near the GroundBridge control. The others were gathered as well—Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Optimus and even Wheeljack.
"What's the big emergency? Was Jack taken?" Her voice came out harsher than she intended as she fixed an impatient glare at the medic.
Ratchet didn't answer immediately.
Bulkhead looked like a feral cat ready to pounce, derma curled back into a snarl. Bumblebee's wings were low, but his optics were unnaturally bright, his servos curled into tight, shaking fists. Optimus's normally composed features were grieved, and his optics were darker than usual.
Something was very, very wrong.
A creeping sense of dread coiled in her chassis.
Ratchet finally turned to her, optics dim, and with an expression of grimness, he lifted his servo to reveal a vial of dark liquid.
"I'm afraid... it's much worse."
Silence stretched far too long for her liking.
"The children are dying."
Her entire world tilted, the ground beneath her vanishing into a void. Her spark twisted violently, coldness running through her fuel line. She didn't realize she had collapsed until her knees hit the floor.
"No."
No.
Jack wasn't—
He wasn't—
Something inside her shattered. She threw her helm back, optics wide, and screamed, cursing Silas and MECH and Galloway in many different ways, both in English and Cybertronian.
Jack dying? No, no, no. This wasn't real, it couldn't be. She couldn't lose him, she already lost so much. Tailgate and Cliffjumper. How much more would she have to lose? How much longer would she have to suffer before it was enough? How long would she have to be powerless to stop those she loved from dying?
A servo landed on her shoulder, breaking her out of her dark spiral. It yanked her up violently, hauling her back onto her pedes with a force that was almost painful. Her optics snapped upward, meeting the piercing blue gaze of Optimus Prime.
And he was furious.
Arcee had seen Optimus in battle, watched him go pede-to-pede with Megatron, but there was never a time she could remember he directed such an icy glare at anyone. Not after Cliffjumper had died, snuffed by the servo of Starscream.
"You will not give up on the children so easily," he said, filled with an authority that brooked no argument.
She stared at him, amazed, unable to get words past her intake.
He turned to Ratchet. "Tell her what you told us."
"It's a virus," the medic explained, sounding frustrated and tired. "MECH injected something called E-X1 into our human ally's systems, and it is killing them. Their organic systems are unable to purge it, resulting in it spreading from their inner-defenses and causing it to rewrite their molecular structure."
Arcee felt like she wanted to purge her systems.
. I detected..." The medic seemed to hate the words that came out of his mouth next. "A forming spark."
Something cold ran down her spinal strut.
No.
That- that wasn't possible.
Humans didn't have sparks. They couldn't have sparks. Cybertronian physiology and human biology were completely different and incompatible. Sparks were energy, light, life. Unique to their species. Not to humans, the heat itself would kill them.
For a human to have a spark...
"And that spark is killing them."
"How long?" she whispered, almost afraid of the answer.
The CMO vented. "Two solar cycles at most."
"Jack?" Optimus abruptly asked, looking relieved for a nano-klik.
A voice came from the Prime's audial receptor, one that they all had grown to dislike, one that made everybot in the room tense. |"Hello, Optimus Prime."|
"Silas." The hostile way Optimus said the human's name surprised all of them.
|"I have few rather important individuals of yours. June Darby, for one. The Davis family as well. Now, I imagine their well-being is of some concern to you and your little band of extraterrestrial misfits."|
What? They had June? When did this happen? Did they have Jack? What—
Her thoughts were cut off when the leader of MECH continued, |"I want Jack Darby and Miko Nakadai tomorrow evening at this time. I will send you the coordinates. They are to come alone. No Autobots. No tricks."|
Instantly, shouts and protests erupted from all the Autobots in the room, including herself. There was no way they were sending them back straight to MECH, not after what they had done to them. They made children -children!- look like torture victims from the war.
Bulkhead snarled, "What have you done to Raf?"
|"It's not what I've done,"| the man corrected easily, sounding almost amused. |"It's what's already happening to him. To all three of them."| There was a pause. |"And if I don't get my hands on the other two soon, they will die. Which I assumed you've already figured out."|
Bulkhead angrily roared, cursing at the man. Bumblebee started a rapid fire series of curses in Cybertronian, swearing that he would get Raf back no matter what.
"WILL EVERYONE PIPE DOWN!" Ratchet's irate voice cut through the noise, and suddenly, everyone became quiet. Nobody wanted to deal with an angry medic.
"You will release them immediately," Optimus said calmly, his expression having long returned to its unreadableness.
|"Come now, Prime. We both know that's not how this works. I already told you what I want. The Darby boy and the Davis girl—alone. If I see even one Autobot tailing them, our deal is off, and you will never see the parents alive again."|
"You are making a grave mistake," the Guardian Knight warned the human.
He merely chuckled. |"Oh, I assure you, Prime. The only mistake would be underestimating me. If the brats are not at the coordinates by midnight tomorrow, I start sending bodies. Think it over. But don't take too long. Tick-tock, Prime. The clock is running out."|
He hung up.
Silas was a madman, and they all knew this. He only seemed to be getting worse, and now he had June Darby and the Davis family. And he was threatening to execute them unless Jack and Miko went to the coordinates he had sent to Optimus. Alone.
"Absolutely not," Ratchet snapped, breaking the silence.
"We are not sending the children back to MECH," Arcee agreed, crossing her arms.
"He thinks he can just demand we send 'em back to him?! That glitch is outta his mind," Wheeljack muttered, crossing his arms.
"He's desperate," the medic stated sharply. "And that makes him dangerous."
Bumblebee's optics brightened dangerously. "We can't leave their creators at the mercy of MECH."
"We're not going to let this happen." His baritone voice was calm, and it helped reassure some of her doubts. "We will find another way."
A small voice broke the silence. "I can't let my host parents die because of me."
All optics turned toward Miko.
Arcee stared at the girl in surprise. Had she been here the entire time? Ratchet's words came back to her: "I have just run and scan on Miko."
Whatever thoughts she had next, were scattered when Ratchet opened the GroundBridge. A dark car similar to June's rolled in, pulling to a stop on the Autobot insignia. The door opened and Jack stepped out first.
Relief flooded her. Jack was okay, for now. Her optics drifted to the man that came out of the drivers door, coldly scanning the area. He didn't seem surprised in the slightest, which was a strange reaction. Most humans probably would have fainted or screamed.
Perhaps he was good at hiding his emotions...
"Arcee."
The moment Jack said her name, she moved without thinking, pulling him into a tight embrace. He made a startled noise before he wrapped his arms around her neck cables, nuzzling his face into her warm metal, making a contented noise.
"You okay?" she asked, pulling back just enough to get a good look at him. His skin was paler than when she last saw him, dark bags under his eyes and he was much, much skinnier, causing his clothes to hang loosely off of him. Was it possible for him to lose so much weight in two solar cycles?
"I'll live."
"And... who's this?"
Jack's features darkened before he muttered, "Go ahead."
The man straightened slightly before offering a stiff nod. "Jonathan Darby."
Her optics widened. This was her friend's sire, the one he had told her about in stories, usually when he was much younger. Jack didn't like talking about his family much.
"I thought your sire abandoned you," she said before she could stop herself, recalling the one time he had mentioned it to her.
The teenager snorted as Arcee placed him down. "He did."
Miko was next to Jack in an instant, and she hugged him tightly. "Jack," she blurted out. "We're dying."
"What?"
"We're dying!" the girl's voice came out as a pitiful wail, and it was sad to see once a life filled girl, reduced to a traumatized child, who was on death's door. Optimus' gaze fell to the floor, and Bulkhead looked hurt, more than usual.
"What is she talking about?" the boy glanced around at each Autobot, who avoided his gaze. "Guys?"
"Silas called Optimus," Miko explained. "He has my host parents. He has your mom. He said he'll kill them if we don't go to the coordinates he sent."
She swallowed thickly.
"Alone."
Raf was certain he was dreaming.
The void around him stretched infinitely in all directions, a vast expanse of nothingness that was somehow full. It wrapped around him, pressing gently against him in a lover's embrace.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was no pain.
No burning in his chest, no aching deep within his bones, no sharp pangs of agony that had plagued his every breath since MECH had taken him. There was just... silence. A silence so complete it was like sound had never existed.
He should have been afraid, but he wasn't. Instead, he felt an almost overwhelming sense of peace.
Raf tried to think, attempting to remember why that was strange but his mind felt like it was wrapped in a thick fog. The harder he tried to focus, the more his thoughts slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.
What had he been doing before this?
Where was he?
Who was he?
The questions drifted in his mind like echoes, but no answers came. Eventually, he forgot. Over and over again, unbeknownst to him.
A warmth lingered just beyond his reach. It wasn't a physical warmth, not like the sun against his skin or the heat of a fire. It was deeper than that. Ancient. Vast. It was everywhere and nowhere all at once, and it surrounded him like an embrace.
A voice eventually spoke, soft and gentle, low and rumbling.
Come to me, little one...
These words pressed against him, sinking into his very being.
Raf stirred, or at least he thought he did. It was difficult to tell if he was moving at all in this strange, endless place.
"...Who..." His voice barely formed, because of the effort it took to speak.
The warmth around him seemed to hum in response.
You are not alone...
The words tugged at something deep inside of him, something long-buried and half-forgotten. There were others. Others he cared about. Others who—
A flicker of memory. A flash of color.
Yellow. The comforting, familiar yellow of—
Bumblebee.
The name sent a ripple through the void. The warmth shifted, curling around him, pressing gently but insistently.
Come...
The peace here was so complete that it was almost impossible to want anything else. There was no fear, no pain, no suffering. But there was also nothing. No life. It was just an empty void. The warmth pulsed when it sensed he accepted it. It was pleased.
The vast emptiness began to move, pulling, twisting, unraveling like fabric coming apart at the seams. The darkness burned away, not in fire, but in light. It was not harsh or blinding but pure, illuminating everything and nothing at once.
Raf couldn't comprehend its scale. It stretched infinitely yet felt so close he could almost touch it. It was immense, unfathomable presence, and it thrummed with a heartbeat in a slow, rhythmic pulse that rattled his very being.
A core was the only way he could describe it. A massive sphere, swirling with golden light. Veins of shimmering energy ran through its surface, connecting to its center that almost resembled an eye, a very large one at that.
Warmth that seeped into him, soothing his aches.
I am sorry...
The voice again.
Sorry?
He didn't understand. Why was it apologizing?
Warm tendrils extended from the core and reached for him entering his very being, into his mind. A thousand needles stabbed into the depths of his thoughts breaking through barriers he hadn't even realized were there.
He saw his mother's face and her gentle smile, the way she used to tuck him in at night when he was little. Before his other younger siblings had taken her priority. He saw his father, distant and busy, but still trying in his own way.
He saw himself, younger, sitting alone on the playground while the other kids played, oversized glasses slipping down his nose as he buried himself in a book.
Then the sensation of his chest tearing itself apart and his screams. MECH capturing him and his friends Silas, the cruel face smiling down at him as needles were plunged into his body.
Raf gasped or thought he did. The pain was dulled, softened, like it was being held back. The presence around him cocooned him in warmth, arms wrapped around his fragile mind, shielding him from the full force of his memories.
I did not wish for this...
It sounded almost... mournful.
Raf struggled to respond, but the words stuck in his throat. He still didn't understand. What didn't it wish for?
More memories stirred.
Cybertron.
Flashes of towering spires, endless metal landscapes stretching beyond the horizon. Skies bloomed with colors that looked different than Earth's sunsets. He saw Cybertronians living, breathing (if they could do that) and laughing.
He had never been there, but it felt familiar.
Cybertron was burning.
The once-glorious metal world, with its shining spires and endless cityscapes, was reduced to nothing but ruin and death. Fire raged across its surface, plumes of smoke rising into a darkened sky. Autobots and Decepticons clashed in brutal, endless.
Entire cityscapes crumbled as warships bombarded them from above. The screams of Cybertronians echoed through the carnage, sparks extinguished one after another, metal bodies were torn apart, discarded, and forgotten.
I did not wish this upon my children...
Raf flinched at the sheer sorrow in its tone.
They are a violent, warmongering species. It was a tainted touch my brother bestowed upon my original creations, and it was passed down when the Well was created...
Another vision followed, and this time, it was about Earth.
The only home he had ever knew shook apart, the very crust splitting open like a wound. Fire and molten rock spewed from the fractures, entire continents shattering as they were pulled into a churning vortex of destruction. Cities—New York, London, Tokyo—crumbled into dust, swallowed whole by the shifting, screaming earth. The oceans boiled, waters turning to steam, rising into an atmosphere that crackled with malicious energy.
And from the planet's broken core—
It rose.
It was an entity so vast, and terrifying. Celestial wings unfurled, limbs stretching every direction as it awoke. It purple eyes were filled with dark, swirling energy, consuming everything in its gaze. A roar left its lips, shaking the very foundations of the universe, promising only chaos and death.
Unicron.
What has happened to me will happen to your planet...
"No," Raf whispered, shaking his head in desperate denial. "No, that's not possible! Unicron was put back to sleep when Optimus used the Matrix!"
The warmth surrounding him pulsed, but this time, it felt saddened.
His corporeal form was rendered inert, but not his energy form...
Raf froze. "Wait, what?"
Unicron has an energy form, as do I... The voice paused, sounding grieved. But I merged it long ago... to save my creations.
"You're—" His eyes went wide when he realized the being he was talking to. "You're Primus."
The very Creator of Cybertron stood before him. No, surrounded him. Raf wasn't just in Primus' presence. He was inside it, enveloped in its very essence.
His mind reeled, overwhelmed by everything. "What do I have to do with this?"
Primus was silent for a long moment.
Your kind is trying to play god with what they should not...
Visions flashed before his eyes, of scientists, laboratories, experiments with energies beyond their understanding. He saw the remnants of Cybertronian technology dissected, twisted, repurposed for things it was never meant for.
They are sowing chaos, and this will awaken my brother. He feeds on chaos...
Oh no. This wasn't just about the Autobots or the Decepticons or even the war. Not even Earth or humanity. It was about the entire galaxy.
MECH, unwittingly, was waking up a god from his slumber, with their evil.
Raf shook his head. "I—I can't do anything! I'm just a kid! I don't have power! I don't have—"
You will not have to worry about your frail form, Rafael...
The warmth pulsed again, curling around him, sinking into the deepest parts of his being.
It is gone. They have taken it... Primus was silent for a long while. I will give you a new form to better serve me. If that is what you desire...
"I- I don't know!" Raf closed his eyes, and then peeked them open. "Can't you stop MECH?"
The entity did not respond immediately.
I cannot...
"What?" His voice rose in pitch. "You—you're a god! You created Cybertron! You- you're literally Primus! How can you not stop them?"
The warmth stirred, vast and patient.
I am bound by the balance that governs all things. To interfere too much is to unravel the very fabric of what is...
"That's not fair!" he snapped. "MECH is hurting people! They're experimenting on Cybertronians, your people! They're making things worse, waking up Unicron and you won't stop them?"
If I act without restraint, if I force my will upon the universe, I become no better than my brother...
Unicron was the opposite of Primus in every way. Where Primus created, Unicron consumed. Where Primus built life, Unicron snuffed it out. If Primus were to act as a direct force, to impose his will upon the universe without limits—
Would he become something just as bad?
Raf didn't know.
But that still didn't make it fair. It wasn't right. If Primus had the power to stop MECH, to save everyone, why wouldn't he use it? It was just one time...
"Why did you let us suffer?" The words slipped from his mouth before he knew it.
The void shifted again, gently, responding to his sorrow.
I do not create suffering, Rafael... It spoke slowly and gently. Suffering is woven into existence. It is a consequence of choice and freedom. If I stripped it away, I would also take away everything else. Love, joy, triumph, the bonds you share with others. I would strip away what makes you, you...
He thought of all the times he had been scared and the times he had wanted to give up. But he also thought of Jack and Miko, and the way they never left him behind, pulling each other forward even when things seemed impossible.
He thought of Bumblebee. His friend had protected him more times than he could count, even when it meant putting himself in danger. Would he be the same person now if he had never faced hardship? If he had never struggle?
Deep down he knew the answer, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
The warmth surrounded him, comforting, even as his heart ached.
Even my children were given free will. They chose war. They chose destruction. And I have mourned every spark lost to it...
"So that's it? You just watch as people suffer?"
The warmth pulsed gently.
No, Rafael. I do not merely watch. I mourn...
Raf felt ancient sorrow, deeper than anything he had ever known. It was like standing in the ruins of a once-great civilization, the echoes of a thousand lost voices whispering through the silence. It wasn't just the suffering of humanity. It was the suffering of Cybertron and every spark that had ever been lost in war.
All the creations Primus had loved, only to see them fall.
I have grieved for every spark taken by war. Every world burned. Every life lost to cruelty and destruction...
Images of fire consuming worlds as the Autobot-Decepticon War spread throughout the galaxy, extinguishing life with every planet it touched.
But I cannot take away suffering without taking away what makes life worth living. I cannot strip away pain without also stripping away the strength that rises in defiance of it. And I will not violate the freedom of choice...
"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."
Optimus had spoken of it before. That was why the Autobots fought, not just for survival, but for the right to choose their own futures, and to allow others to do the same.
Was that what Primus meant? If he interfered too much and forced the universe onto the path he wanted, he would become no better than the very things he fought against?
It made sense.
The preteen felt something warm press against his thoughts.
You have suffered much, Rafael. And you will suffer again. But suffering does not define you. It does not own you...
The warmth pulsed, and suddenly, Raf saw memories of his own life flash before him, small moments he had long forgotten.
Sitting at a table with Jack and Miko, laughing over something stupid.
Helping Bumblebee with repairs, the scout making sounds of appreciation.
His parents hugging him tightly after he had went missing for an entire day after school.
Through pain, you have found love. Through fear, you have found courage. And through loss, you have learned the true value of those you cherish...
Raf's chest ached. "I just... I just want to help them," he whispered. "I don't want them to suffer anymore."
Then you understand, Rafael. To ease the suffering of others and to protect what is good in this world, that is the path of those who carry light...
The boy nodded.
Do you wish to return, Raf...?
The preteen took a breath, knowing that if there was a chance he could stop anything, even for one person, he would take it. He wouldn't allow Unicron to destroy Earth, and if he was their best chance, then he would have to be one who carried the light.
"Yes."
The void trembled. The warmth wrapped around him, and suddenly—
Everything changed.
Rafael Esquivel was pronounced dead twenty minutes ago.
At least, his body was. The human body that had once housed the child's consciousness was nothing more than a bloody, empty shell, devoid of life forever. However, the boy essence was far from gone.
His spark was thriving.
It had been a delicate procedure, extracting the thing from the child's chest. When first removed, the thing had been no bigger than a baseball, flickering weakly like a dying ember. But the moment they submerged it into the cylindrical containment tank filled with processed energon, everything changed.
The spark expanded, growing rapidly like it was starved. It bore a resemblance to the one he saw in Ar-cee's chest cavity. Except for one difference.
Arcee's was a soft blue, contained and pure. Raf's was a sickly green, tendrils of unstable energy licking at the glass of its prison.
"Sir, we're ready to implant the spark."
The words came from his lead scientist. He turned to face him, expression unreadable behind his thick protective goggles, and let a slow smirk stretch across his face.
"Get to it."
The team wasted no time. This was the moment they had all been waiting for. This was the culmination of their research, their experiments, their sacrifices. MECH had spent years clawing its way toward the ultimate achievement, and while he never thought it would be for alien machines, it was everything he had hoped and dreamed for and more.
He would create the perfect society with his new weapons.
The lifeless frame of a Vehicon drone was strapped to the operating table. It was one of their finest constructs, a body taken from Cybertronian-kind, improved upon with human ingenuity.
A perfect host.
The containment chamber hissed open as mechanical arms descending and grasping onto the energy source carefully. The moment they made contact, the spark reacted, flaring so violently that several scientists were forced to look away.
Silas, however, remained unfazed. Anticipation coiled tight in his chest as the spark inched closer to its new host.
Slowly, the spark was lowered into the Vehicon's open chest cavity. The plating around it had been carefully removed, exposing the hollow chamber within, where the drone's own spark had once rested.
The moment the spark made contact, a violent surge of energy erupted from the core, sending a wave of bright green light spilling out in all directions. The force was near-blinding, so intense that those without proper protection recoiled, shielding their eyes with frantic shouts and curses. Several monitors flickered wildly, readings spiking into unreadable territory as the machinery struggled to handle the sudden influx of power.
And it stopped.
Silas was disappointed when nothing happened. The lack of reaction from the lifeless frame on the table was bothersome.
His patience snapped. "Well?"
His lead scientist hesitated, eyes locked onto the readings in front of him. "It's not bonding to the frame," he finally reported.
The words were barely out of his mouth before everything changed.
A metallic groan echoed through the lab as the frame trembled violently, rattling as though something inside was trying to tear its way out. Silas's team scrambled back, a few knocking over equipment in their haste to put distance between themselves and whatever was happening.
Silas watched in stunned silence as an unnatural glow bled through the seams of the drone's plating. It wasn't green like the first time. It was blue.
Within seconds, it became blinding, swallowing the entire room in its harsh luminescence. Silas gritted his teeth as the force of it surged against his skin, and he could almost feel the heat against his skin, even where he stood.
The lab's alarms shrieked to life. Machines sputtered and failed as energy levels spiked beyond their limits.
The energy exploded outward in a wave, knocking some of the scientists clear off their feet. Silas turned away at the last second, shielding his face with his arm. It was too much, even through the protective lenses. The intensity of the light burrowed through his goggles, stabbing into his retinas.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the storm of energy vanished.
The alarms were cut out. The lab fell into a deathly silence, leaving only the lingering afterimages burned into their retinas. Silas forced himself to turn back, vision adjusting, and what he saw made him almost forget to breathe.
Silas slowly lowered his arm, blinking rapidly to clear the white-hot afterimages burning in his vision. He turned back toward the operating table, forgetting to breathe with what he saw. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came.
The Vehicon was gone. Or rather, what should have been the Vehicon was gone. In its place was something else.
There was no vicious qualities about the frame. No claws, no sharp-edged armor. It was a slender frame, a fiery orange coating the plating, with bold, hot red lines tracing along the seams of its plating.
From the back of the frame, doorwings hung limply, ending in a rounded way. Thin antennas extended from either side of its head, and orange armor framed its silver faceplates, almost resembling his old hair. A thin, reddish visor stretched across its face, hiding offlined optics.
"Is this normal?"
The scientist, still staring at the creation on the table, responded, "I... I don't know."
His lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or disturbed by how the process had turned out. He decided on the former.
The experiment had been a success. His experiment.
Regardless of how unexpected the final result was, the fact remained: MECH had created a new Cybertronian, one that they controlled. Such a feat sent a thrill through him.
Silas's gaze swept over the slim frame, staring at the doorwings folded extending from its back. That alone ruled out an aircraft alt-mode. Disappointing. It meant their new soldier was a ground-based unit, and while an armored vehicle would have its advantages, that wasn't what he wanted.
This soldier needed to blend in. A military vehicle, a tank, or anything too aggressive would draw unwanted attention. Something more subtle would be ideal.
But that was a decision for later. For now, they had a more pressing matter to address, the mind of who resided in the frame.
Silas exhaled slowly, turning to his team. "Wipe his memories."
The data purge would strip away anything unnecessary memories, anything that could tether the being inside that frame to his former self. He almost felt amusement at the thought of what the Autobots would do if they knew what had happened to their little human friend.
There was no doubt in his mind if the run retained his memories, he would side with the Autobots. That wasn't an option. MECH had gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure their control over him, thanks to Raf's work on each of the Vehicon's processors, which were exposed with wiring and cables running into them.
The Pegasus Protocols were already in place, buried deep within the new Cybertronian's code. If all went as planned, the former human wouldn't even remember who he used to be. A blank slate, a necessary sacrifice.
Silas knew they were losing valuable intelligence in the process. The Vehicon's systems were far superior to MECH, and much more complex. Without Raf or Starscream's (he was tired of helping the sniveling rat, who was stealing from them) help, they would be unable to access it. The alien knowledge locked inside the frame was undoubtedly priceless, but it wasn't worth the risk of letting any shred of his former self remain.
Soon, Raf would make up, and he would be MECH's soldier. The ultimate weapon, and if everything went well, he would start producing more of these Transformers.
Goodbye Rafael Jorge Esquivel, he thought, unable to help the smile spreading across his face. Hello, R-1.
Airachnid grunted as she dropped from the cavern ceiling, limbs twisting at an awkward angle before she caught herself just in time, landing in a crouch. Pain shot through her frame, an ugly reminder of her recent battle. Two of her extra appendages hung limp, bent and broken, unless thanks to the wretched little Autobot and that sniveling coward, Starscream.
Her remaining optic narrowed, a low growl rumbling in her engine. Arcee.
The name alone sent venomous anger running through her fuel lines. That insufferable gnat had bested her once again. It was infuriating and unacceptable. She flexed her remaining functional claws, imagining them closing around Arcee's neck cables, digging in tightly and drawing energon, tearing—
Her dark fantasies stopped when her optic caught on something metal. Rounding the corner of the winding tunnel, her optic widened as she saw rows upon rows of stasis pods, stretching endlessly into the dark. Dust and grim covered each pod's glass casing, probably from stellar cycles of disuse.
Dim lights came from each stasis pod, and inside them—her fanged intake curled into a slow, delighted grin—were Insecticons. Dozens. Hundreds. Warriors, dormant and waiting.
How fortunate.
"So my warrior was merely a scout..." she mused, crawling closer to one of the pods, running a clawed servo over the glass and staring at the dormant creature inside.
She had spent an entire cycle prowling through this wretched cave system, searching for even the smallest scrap of energon to mend her wounds. She had found something so much better.
The Insecticon could taste power slumbering before her. Megatron, in all his arrogance, had commanded her Insecticons into battle during the Great War, sending them out with energon supplies, like expendable foot soldiers. And yet, so many had survived. So many.
Oh, how ironic.
Her smile widened into something truly wicked. Megatron would rue the day he had ever discarded her. The Decepticons would burn. And the Autobots? Oh, the Autobots would suffer, especially Arcee and so would precious little Jack.
Oh, sweet, defiant Jack. His helm would make a lovely addition to her collection. Or perhaps... She hummed, tilting her helm. Perhaps she would keep him instead as pet. A little human, so fragile and helpless beneath her servos, his little spark filled with fear and delicious despair.
Airachnid purred at the thought before she turned to the nearest stasis pod. Her mind reached out, touching the mental strand connecting them, slipping into the ancient, processor of the beast within. Wake up, my loyal servant.
The pod hissed, mechanisms grinding as it slowly unlocked. The Insecticon within twitched, its optics flickering to life, the red illuminating its monstrous, jagged features. It took a single step forward, shaking off centuries of dormancy, and the femme grinned.
"Find me energon," she commanded her servant. The Insecticon hesitated only a nano-klik before skittering off, obeying without question.
Perhaps, when her new loyal subject returned, she could persuade it to donate an optic to replace the one Arcee had so rudely damaged. Yes. That would do quite nicely.
The Insecticon femme hissed when a burning ripped through her, wrenching her spark violently inside her chamber like it was trying to leap from her very core. Her servo shot up, hovering protectively over his chassis, the other snapping open, ready to strike at whatever had dared attack her.
But... there was nothing.
Yet the fire in her core spread, wrapping around her like unseen chains. The sensation was alien, invasive in a way that sent every error warnings through her systems. She braced against the nearest pod, hissing at the burning creeping through her being, crawling like sickness.
It was distant. Echoing. Not of this place, not of this cavern. It wasn't even her scream, but it was inside of her. A voice, young and weak, wailing in pain. The agony abruptly vanished, like a flame snuffed out in an instant, leaving nothing but a frigidness in her struts.
What... was that?
Her glare wondered around the cavern, narrowed in suspicion.
It wasn't the Insecticons. She had a bond to them, yes—her abilities allowed her to command them and bend them to her will—but it wasn't that intimate. She had never felt something like this before.
This wasn't a call from one of her children.
She didn't like not knowing. She hated it.
A thread stretched from her spark to somewhere. The sensation was not the same as her link to the Insecticons. She tested the link, reaching for it with the same mental touch she used to control her Insecticons. It did not yield. It did not recoil. It simply existed; an unfamiliar, foreign thing entwined with the very core of her being.
Her claws curled on her chassis.
Something had altered her without her knowledge or consent. But who?
Had Megatron done something? The idea was immediately overwritten, he had neither the knowledge nor the capability. And the Autobots would never tamper with creation, unlike Shockwave. But he was dead.
Then what had done this?
Whatever this connection was, she would find it. Airachnid would claim it and twist it to her advantage. The Insecticon always took control in the end. Whatever you are... she thought, letting her mind brush against the thread ever so slightly. I will find you.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I enjoyed writing it :D
By far, this is my favorite chapter but it's also so sad because Steve has been removed. Curse Silas to the Pits!
Ratchet checked the blood too late, though I'm sure what they would have done. They could try to build bodies for their human allies, but I don't think they could do that in time.
Raf finally meets the voice, and he knows what's going on now...
We only have to wait for Jack and Miko.