After spending millions of years battling against the evil forces of the Decepticons, anyone would assume that N had gotten used to the unpredictable weather of a war-torn world. But by his own admission, some things still took him by surprise—like the phenomenon known as thundersnow. It was similar to a thunderstorm, but with snow instead of rain, and a rare sight on the planet of Cybertron. So rare, in fact, that N hadn't even considered encountering one as he flew through the sky. Nor was he expecting to be struck by its lightning while he was enjoying an in-flight screening of Air Bud —one of his favorite human movies.

It's true what they say: you don't hear the one that gets you. But anyone within earshot could hear the UCAV—unmanned combat aerial vehicle—as it screamed through the air, literally as N was screaming for his life, mere moments before crashing through the window of one of Kalis's few still-standing buildings. N tumbled, rolled, and transformed as he skidded across the floor at over 120 km/h. Yet, somehow, he managed to come to a complete stop right in his seat at a dinner table, in robot mode, with him leaning on the table with one arm in a suave pose, smiling flirtatiously at the female drone who seated across from him.

She crossed her arms, giving him an extra-annoyed look.

"You got to be doing this on purpose by now," V said, glancing from him to the trail of destruction he'd left behind. It normally would be impossible for anyone to make that much of an entrance by accident, but she knew her teammate would always find a way.

"I swear to Primus, I'm not," N replied, reaching up to rub his arm where the lightning had struck. He was covered in scratches and dents from the crash landing, yet, through some strange means even he couldn't fully explain, each and every one of them started to heal. The scratches on his visor vanished, his broken fingers snapped back into place, and, in moments, he looked as if nothing had happened. The only remaining problem was the small fire on his coat, which he was busy patting out. "I ran into a thundersnow on the way here. Been a while since I've seen one."

"You can dodge thousands of energon bolts fired by Decepticons wielding every type of weapon imaginable, but you can't handle a little lightning?" V leaned forward, smirking at him, which made N sit back, blushing as his visor brightened in embarrassment.

"Well, sometimes…things just kind of happen," he said. "Good thing we're made of sterner stuff, that's what I always say. It did hurt, though. A lot."

"You want me to kiss it better?" V leaned back, rolling her eyes. "Gotta say, you're getting bolder now."

N began to laugh nervously—a lot.

He quickly began looking around, attempting to put himself at ease with some distraction. He found one in his own reflection, as he noticed a piece of glass in his arm. "Huh, oh. I forgot Kalis used to have mirrored windows," he reached for the shard and ripped it clean. His wound healed in an instant…

But what gave him pause, was staring into his own reflection.

He and V comprised two-thirds of the Autobot Team: Disassembly Squad. Though technically drones, they were unmistakably different from the native inhabitants of Cybertron. Their robot modes were sharper and more angular, with an organic edge to their design. Their bodies were modular, able to shift and transform in ways that standard drones couldn't. While most Autobots and Decepticons relied on external weaponry to be combat-effective, members of the Disassembly Squad were weapons by design. Each of them possessed extraordinary self-repair capabilities, eliminating the need for the heavy armor others depended on. Their hands could morph into an arsenal of both melee and ranged weaponry. They each also had a long tail tipped with a device that unleashed nanite acid—able to burn through a Cybertronian drone's outer and inner layers within seconds. But the most visually striking difference comes from the large, blade-sharp wings they could extend from their backs, allowing flight without needing to transform—though they preferred the speed of their vehicle forms for long-distance travel.

Those wings earned them another name during the Great War: The Angels of Death .

An overly dramatic title, many would say, many more would call it "overly edgy" yet the name stuck—so much so that even the NAILs began to call them that. N understood why. Clad in black, built as weapons, and equipped with large jagged wings, it was easy to overlook the Autobot symbols they wore across their backs, displayed in metallic weave upon their clothing.

"You good?"

"Huh—Oh!" Quickly, N threw the shard out of sight and remembered he was supposed to be on a date. "Sorry! Lost in thought of stuff. Um, anyway. Thanks again for coming, V. I hope you are hungry cause I took the liberty of preparing a proper meal for us." N rose and crossed the room that he had picked out for this event, because of its perfect storage space.

With a raised fist, he tapped on a wall, revealing a hidden compartment that opened like an oversized oven. Inside, lay a bound and gagged armor-clad female drone. Her muffled screams filled the air as N hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her to the table. "One Decepticon scout-class, type C-inner energon, stewed in a pot of heated oil and iron filings to seal in that extra flavor, coming right up." He tossed the Decepticon onto the table, her visor showing tears of terror as she struggled to escape, her attempts at transformation failing as she flailed herself.

To prevent her from falling from the table, N held her firmly in place as he continued, "And for dessert—her T-cog, seasoned with lead sulfide crystals and pepper. Now, what kind of energon wine would you like? Trick question, I can only find one. Sorry." He gestured back toward the compartment, where the second meal awaited alongside a single case of energon—which glowed a pink color.

"Oh, N. You're spoiling me." V sighed, with a trace of amusement in her voice as she looked towards N's smiling face. "You know you don't have to go this far for me. Just grabbing any random 'Con would have been enough."

N shook his head and smirked as he said, "If it's worth doing, it's worth over doing—especially for our dates." V's smile softened as she looked at him, but then it twisted into something darker as her gaze returned to the Decepticon lying on the table. Her visor's eyes shifted into a large 'X,' her mouth widening to reveal rows of fang-like teeth. Her hands changed, they shifted into a mass of moving parts along her forearms and transformed into a pair of long razor-sharp talons. "Shall we?" She asked, right before N's own features morphed similarly to her own.

The Decepticon whimpered, shutting her optics tightly—perhaps muttering a desperate plea to Primus to spare her spark. N found it a bit ironic, even insensitive, given that he and his team liked to thank Primus after each meal. At least, he did. But, just as he and V prepared to leap on their helpless quarry, a sudden beeping sound interrupted them. It came from N. His visor flickered, flashing blue—a transmission on the private Autobot frequency.

"Huh? Ah, biscuits. I swear I put this on Do Not Disturb," he muttered, pulling back slightly and pressing his fingers to the side of his head to answer, the X on his visor disappearing as it was replaced by his eyes.

There is a groan as V pulls herself back, her visor doing the same as N, by returning to normal as well. "Just let it go to voicemail," V said, her annoyance evident. She wasn't in the mood for interruptions. "We're supposed to be on leave. Or is Elita going back on her word again?"

"Come on, V, that's not fair. You know she depends on us," N replied gently.

"Oh, she depends on us, alright," V's voice took on a mocking tone as she mimicked their acting commander, Elita-1. "Disassembly Squad, go to this place and kill the Decepticons. Disassembly Squad, go to that place and kill the Decepticons. Disassembly Squad, run down to the store and pick up eggs, milk, and bread—and while you're at it, kill some Decepticons. " N was taken aback by her outburst, unaccustomed to seeing V's frustration surface this way. She generally loved her work. "Don't give me that shocked look," she snapped. "I get a thrill from killing 'Cons as much as the next bot. But after millions of years of doing the same thing, over and over again… when I'm finally allowed a break, the least she can do is let me have my Primus-damned break! " She punctuated her words by shoving the table aside, sending the Decepticon crashing to the ground. The captive drone immediately began wriggling away, desperately attempting to flee despite her bindings. "And don't even get me started on her talking points about the NAILs," V added, bitterness lacing her voice. "Oh, I have a lot to say about that… "

N gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice softening. "V, is this… is this about what happened with the Dinobots?"

There was a look of raw fury in V's visor as she shoved his arm back, but N knew the anger wasn't directed at him—it was for their commander. "Step off," she said in a low, warning tone, turning her back to him. "What happened is between me and Elita. I don't want to talk about it, not here—not now."

"V, you…" N hesitated but forced the words out. "You accused the acting commander of the Autobots—the one that Optimus Prime himself put in charge—of sabotage. You said the deaths of those Decepticon refugees was a setup, and that Elita was in on it. You even confronted her about it!"

V waved a claw dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, circumstantial at best," she said aggressively, before glancing over her shoulder toward N with clear irritation. "But come on, think about it! Elita sends the Dinobots on a mission to do a patrol. Okay, fine, she likes to get rid of them from the base. That's not the problem." V then looked back forward, away from him. "But let's go over what happened, one more time. The Dinobots just happen to find a group of Decepticons—who all defected from the war—living in this area. Grimlock said things got tense, words were exchanged, insults given. The usual scrap between bots and cons, nothing new. But let me ask you something: if you're a bunch of Decepticons running from Shockwave of all people, and the freaking Dinobots show up at your camp…are you really dumb enough to try and shoot them?"

N's shoulders dropped as he took a deep sigh. "I don't know. A lot of things could have been going through their heads. Grimlock says there was a sniper—"

"And you believe him?"

"You know I do. We both do."

"Then why is this Primus-damn argument?"

"I'm not arguing! I'm just—" N stopped and took a moment to focus his words, the stress showing on his visor as his eyes turned hollow. "V, I believe the Dinobots' story. Grimlock still had the mark on his armor to prove it. He was shot by an Energon Battle Pistol—a sniper shot at him and his team…they acted."

"And there just happened to be hidden explosives too that 'accidentally' went off. All part of some Decepticon trick," V muttered, mostly to herself. N noticed that she had shifted her claws back into normal hands, and was now letting them hang at her sides as balled-up fists. "Please, N, I don't want to talk about this anymore. I can't, okay? Let's just drop it. I really don't want to remember the look on their faces when they told us they found kids in that camp."

A long pause filled the room, the only real sound coming from the thunder outside.

Though hesitant and feeling a pang of guilt for even bringing up the subject, N still chose to reach out toward her. "V, we've got to talk about this eventually. I know it's tearing you up inside. I mean, it's not that different from what Elita has us do to the NAILs—"

Before he could touch one of her closed up hands, V turned sharply, her arm shifting as it transformed into a cannon-like shape. Without a word, she fired a missile across the room, striking the bound Decepticon drone who had nearly reached the exit. The blast sent fragments of inner energon and burning metal flying, embedding into the walls as the remains scattered, leaving nothing but a smoldering wreck where she had been.

"We're monsters, N. The Dinobots are victims. There's a Primus-damn difference." V' voice was steely, her optics cold as she looked him in the eye. She then pushed past him, bumping his shoulder hard as she walked toward the same window that he had first crashed through earlier. "Sorry, but I'm skipping dessert. I suddenly lost my appetite."

A low hum filled the room as her T-cog activated, her form shifting seamlessly into a UAVC, nearly identical to N's vehicle mode. Without another word, she flew out of the building, leaving N standing alone in the ruins of what should have been a quiet evening together, marked as yet another ruined date between the two of them.

"Shock," he muttered to himself, running a hand across his face.

Then, a voice crackled through his comm, thick with uncomfortable realization as N's visor still flicked blue.

"[...Holy scrap, I picked the worst possible time to call, didn't I?]"

In an instant, N's circuits were brought to a chill as he recognized the voice. "Impactor?" It dawned on him, with mounting horror, that he'd never properly disconnected the call. The entire exchange with V had been transmitted to one of his oldest friends. "Oh, Primus, kill me now." He slumped into the his seat, and covered his face with both hands. As if to crown this miserable failure of a date, the chair creaked ominously under his weight and promptly collapsed, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap.

"[You okay, N?]" Impactor's voice buzzed again, his hesitant concern barely masking his suppressed laughter.

"…you think Megatron takes requests?"

"[I'll be sure to ask him next time we hit a bar together,] Impactor replied with a chuckle. [Normally I ask how you are doing but...] The ex-Wrecker paused, taking in a sharp breath. [I imagine it isn't well. I take it that you and V are...]"

N rolled his eyes, not at all even bothering to sit himself back up. "We were on a date. But I think we reached the, off-again part of our on-again, off-again relationship." He held his hands over his chest and looked toward where he had the Decepticon's T-cog, and the container that held the pink energon. "I was gonna ask if we could make it official. If we could be Conjunx Endura, finally."

"[I guess that's off the table?]"

"Off the table and blasted across the room into a million pieces." N answered and closed his eyes, frustration settling in reluctantly. "Sorry you had to hear all that. What's up, Impactor?"

"[Well, seeing as you are already in a scrap-filled mood, at least I won't feel bad when I ask if you want to talk about some heavy stuff?]"

"How heavy?"

"[Metroplex-heavy.]"

N's optics snapped open as he sat up from the remains of his ruined seat, processing the weight of what Impactor had just said. "...That's pretty heavy."

"[I want to meet up. I'm taking the new recruits—the M.T.O.s—with me to the Spire. Yeah, they're gonna freak out at the sight of it, but they were insistent on following me… I'll make sure they act professional. At least it'll keep their focus off other things.]"

"New recruits—oh! The Made to Order bots." N pulled himself up from the floor and moved toward the compartment with the 'dessert' he prepared; he wasn't about to let it go to waste, especially since he was starving. "Wait, they're finished? I thought it'd take at least a few more days before they could reach the field."

"[Yeah, well, Elita is rushing them….]" Impactor's tone betrayed his weariness. "[Poor things are kids in full-grown bodies. We used to have a ten-step education program before they were fit for duty; now it's been cut down to three directives… They're not even a quartex old, for Primus sakes!]"

"I can't imagine how hard it must be for them," N murmured sympathetically, knowing how much Optimus would hate seeing this. But Elita had insisted it was necessary. So who was he to question things. "I get it… the regular process takes time, and we do need new soldiers. But I dunno. I still feel weird about it, even now." He paused, bringing the T-cog to his mouth. A loud crunch echoed across the room followed by his chewing.

"[Yeah, well, it'd be weird if you didn't feel that way….]" Impactor's voice grew heavier. "[They've already got their orders on what to do if they encounter NAILs.]"

N flinched, the words striking a nerve. It was a grim directive given to several teams: NAILs weren't to be trusted. Too many Decepticon tricks, too many incidents, too many complications from those who insisted on staying independent. Examples needed to be made to keep them from becoming another internal threat in the war. N and his team had followed orders, but he knew many others, including Impactor, had opposed it bitterly. Some even straight up defected because of it.

Swallowing the piece of T-cog in his mouth, and hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere, N asked, "So… what's this about, Impactor? I mean, why tell me? If it's this important, shouldn't it go to Kup or Elita? I mean, you still technically outrank me."

"[I thought about going to the old man. But…]" There was a faint click, as if Impactor were hesitating. "[Look, you're one of the best bots I know, N. I need you to hear this—get your take on it. Okay?]"

"...Okay." N was touched by the compliment, though a flicker of worry crept in. Impactor sounded different—darker than usual. He sounded as if he was checking behind his shoulder, anticipating an ambush.

"[And N...if something happens to me...I need you to be ready to ask questions.]"

"...what? What are you talking about?" N's visor switched back to its usual yellow as the transmission ended abruptly on Impactor's end—he had hung up. N immediately called his friend back, his visor turning blue once more. "Hey, you can't just say something like that and then hang up! At least say bye. That's really rude."

"[Oh...sorry, kid. Guess I've been watching too many movies,]" Impactor replied, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.

"Well, I've got a whole selection of other movies you could try."

"[I'm not shocking watching Air Bud with you again,]" Impactor said with a grumble.

"Oh, come on… you didn't even give it a real chance!"

"[Don't have to. Bye, N.]"

The transmission ended once again, and this time N just shook his head as he leaned against the wall with his visor turning yellow once more. Taking another bite from the T-cog, he looked out the shattered window V had flown through earlier. He tried to make sense of what Impactor had found that warranted a meeting at the Spire. Granted, it was where N and his team lived, but it was a morbid place to say the least— more so than the city of Kalis, which was a far cry from its former glory. It was constructed after the launch of the Ark, when Optimus Prime had taken so many of their kind off Cybertron upon discovering the planet's resources had nearly run dry. That the planet itself was dying.

"...That was so long ago…" N whispered to himself, memories stirring of what Cybertron used to be. The planet had once pulsed with life; the buildings and landscapes had glowed with radiant energy. Bridges would materialize underfoot, and even the simplest of structures had felt alive, as everything was constantly shifting into place with complex, interlocking movements. It was as if the planet itself was conscious, and because of that, it sought to breath and move.

Now, all of that vibrancy was gone, leaving Cybertron dull and barren. The absence gnawed at N, and he wondered, as he often did, where Optimus Prime was—if he was still alive, still fighting somewhere out there. If he would ever return home…

"What am I talking about, of course he would. He promised he would." With a reluctant sigh, N finished the T-cog, grabbed the case of energon wine, and moved toward the broken window where he'd first crashed through. He tried to shake off the negative thoughts, knowing they'd do him no good, and transformed, taking flight toward the Spire.

He decided to take the long route, hoping it would give him a chance to finish the rest of his movie and give him some moments of peace. But as soon as he found some rhythm in the air, a bolt of lightning struck him directly once more, jolting him out of control.

"Oh, come on!" His yell echoed as he spun wildly and crashed through yet another window, landing in a heap inside a different building. "It's official... This day stinks."

"Home, sweet morbidly questionable home," N said, giving a tired sigh as he finally reached the Spire. His home. Well, a kind of home. It was the one place in all of Cybertron that he and his team could call their own—their claim to the city of Kalis.

It was J's idea. The third member of the Disassembly Squad, and its leader.

After the launch of the Ark, she felt it was time for them to 'branch out' as Cybertronians. With Elita-1's blessing, they were given free rein to do whatever they wanted with the dead city. Of all things, J said she wanted to build a spire—one made from the corpses of all the drones they had killed. A monument to everything they had done since the start of the Great War, symbolizing the suffering caused by the Decepticons and their ever-growing hunger for power.

The intent was to scare away anyone who dared enter their city, their territory. It was also meant to shelter and protect the original vessel they had first arrived in, millions of years ago—an old, useless thing they had abandoned, now suddenly imbued with immense importance. One J didn't speak much about it other than that it had to do with orders from the Sumdac corporation—the company that first sent them to Cybertron.

The idea wasn't exactly well received by either N or V. They had tried to argue against it, claiming that building such a monument would damage their reputation among the Autobots and ultimately be a waste of time and energon. They offered an alternative: to live in one of the abandoned buildings scattered throughout the city. While much of it was depowered and worn by time, they brought up that it could be made livable once more, eventually leading to Kalis becoming the city it once was.

But J was adamant about her choice, issuing an order that they would help her build her "morbid art piece." It took time and countless bodies, but the spire was completed. Its horrid form stretched far upward, rivaling every other building in Kalis.

It was an absolute eyesore, and yet one that N was almost proud of. It represented the work they had done in the name of the Autobot cause—vengeance for all the humans slain, retribution for all the friends lost. Just as J had said, it was a monument to everything they had endured since the Great War began.

And yet, no matter how accustomed he was to it, no matter how many years he had spent inside or flying around it, he knew that Optimus would hate it.

"I hope the new recruits didn't freak out too badly when they saw it. Speaking of…" N turned and began scanning the snowy, corpse-strewn area for his friend. "Impactor! Are you here?" he called out, stepping further from the Spire. The wings on his back folded and shifted, disappearing from sight as he moved. "Sorry I'm late. I had to use my wings to make it through the storm—it's going crazy up there."

As if on cue, thunder cracked directly overhead, making N flinch and grow wary as he remembered the rule that comedy comes in threes. "Impactor? Anybody?"

The only response to his voice was the howl of the snowy wind and the ominous rumble of thunder. "Huh, I guess I managed to beat him here. Maybe I can wait inside at least—" N turned around and started toward the Spire, but paused when he noticed several sets of tire tracks in the snow, each from different vehicles.

"Wait." He immediately knelt down to inspect them. "Civilian models by the look of it... and one military armored truck. Yep, that's him. Impactor!" N called out again, but still received no response. He glanced around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary at the many piles of building rubble that littered the streets—

ARE ALL DEAD

N stared at the crudely carved writing on a large piece of rubble.

"...I forgot I wrote that—"

"N!"

"—Ahh!"

Startled, N jumped and spun around. In an instant, his right hand changed, it had shifted into a large gun and he aimed it to what he thought was a target. It took him a moment to realize, he was aiming squarely at his teammate, J, who unflinchingly glared back at him. Uncaring about the barrel pointed literally inches from her face.

"You have three nano-clicks to get that blaster out of my face before I make you eat it," she said, her tone as cold as the snow swirling around them. N couldn't lower his weapon fast enough.

"Sorry! So sorry! I didn't mean to do that!" he blurted, his hand shifting back to normal. "I got startled and just went straight into—"

"N. Shut up." J ordered, and he quickly snapped to attention, eyes forward and back straight. That position allowed him to notice V standing behind J, arms crossed, her back turned toward them—a familiar sight that made him want to rush over and comfort her. But J's voice demanded his focus. "Don't mind her," J said, nodding toward V. "She's just in one of her moods. Nothing new there."

"Go shock yourself, J," V called out, lifting her arm to flash them a middle finger—a feat made all the more impressive by the fact they only had four fingers on each hand.

Without even glancing back at V, J continued speaking to N. "Do you know where he is?"

"Where who is…" N asked, confused.

"Don't pretend to be stupid," J snapped.

"I'm not! It's all natural, I promise," He said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

J sighed, her shoulders visibly dropping as her tone changed. "Impactor, N. Where is Impactor? He's missing." She paused, letting the words sink in. "He took his team of new recruits and just bailed out of the base, right in the middle of a briefing for a new assignment. Everyone's going crazy looking for him around Iacon. After I found this one moping around"—J threw a glare in V's direction—"I went looking for you."

N was stunned at the news, and became even more confused. "Missing? No, that can't be right…I just spoke to him not too long ago."

"Well, he is," J's demeanor sharpened as she narrowed her eyes on him. "Just start from the top. When was the last time you talked to him?"

N hesitated, thinking back to his last conversation with Impactor. "I got a call from him during… uh…" His words trailed off as he glanced at V. She briefly looked his way, their eyes meeting for a moment before she quickly turned away.

"Oh, my Primus, I don't care that you and V had another bad date," J interrupted with an exasperated groan as her tail stung aggressively. "That happens every other deca-cycle with you two! Just tell me what happened."

Shoving aside the guilt creeping into his thoughts of bad dates being so common between himself and V, N continued. "I got a call from him. He wanted to meet me here, though he was vague about the details." He crouched down, gesturing toward the tire marks in the snow. "He was here though. These are his tire tracks, I'm sure of it. I am guessing the rest are the recruits."

J knelt down to inspect the tracks herself. "Impactor left with four of the M.T.O.s. So why are there six sets of tire marks?"

N joined her, moving to kneel by her side. "There are six… but one of them is going in the opposite direction. You think someone got scared off by the Spire?"

"Got this close only to be scared off now? Please," J replied, dismissive.

"Well, there has to be…" N's voice trailed off as something caught his eye. He looked up, past large chunks of rubble, and spotted what appeared to be the remains of the theater further down the street. Its front entrance was completely blasted apart, with a very familiar blast pattern along its walls. "…oh no." N's optics locked onto the blasted entrance of the theater, the jagged edges of the shattered structure silhouetted against the pale, snowy backdrop. He didn't think—he didn't hesitate. He surged forward, his legs carrying him at full speed across the ruined street.

"N! Wait!" J's voice rang out behind him, sharp and commanding, but he didn't register it.

"N? Hey!" V shouted next, her tone dripping with surprise and irritation, but even her voice was distant, like a fading echo.

His feet kicked up loose snow and gravel, but he didn't notice the sharp sting of debris pelting his frame or the ache of exertion in his joints. The Spire and the rubble-strewn street behind him blurred into irrelevance. All that mattered was the theater—the yawning black void of its ruined entrance drawing him like a magnet.

As he approached, the air seemed heavier, colder, and his processor conjured grim images of bodies, smoke, and destruction. He prayed to Primus that his worst fears were not true. Impactor was his friend. Was one of the first within the Autobots to accept him, and his team. Taught them all how to be proper soldiers.

"N! Stop, that's an order!" J's voice was sharper now, closer, but still, he couldn't hear her.

He reached the theater, skidding to a halt just inside the blasted entrance. The air here was thick with the acrid tang of scorched metal and burnt energon. His eyes scanned the dim interior, taking in the charred remains of broken glass and the mangled walls, before they focused on the crumbled remains on the floor.

"Impactor?" N called, his voice cracking. Only silence answered.

"N!" J's voice was closer as she joined his side. "You can't just…oh, shock…" Her tone shifted immediately as she saw what he did.

V stormed in, throwing herself ahead of the two as her arms shifted into guns. "What the hell are you think–…ing…" V's demand faltered, her voice trailing off as she almost immediately lowered her weapons.

N could barely register their reactions.

His optics were still fixed on the bodies before him, his processor spinning with dread and desperation, trying to deny what was in front of him as he stared at Impactor's nearly headless corpse.