Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cybertron, six months ago

    "So, how did things go?"

    Walking out of the council meeting chambers of the newly-rebuilt Iacon Great Dome, Optimus Prime glanced at Elita-One as he moved alongside her. "Surprisingly well, actually. The peace treaty will be signed tomorrow with everyone's signatures-- mine, Dai Atlas', Metalhawk's... and Starscream's apparently. The Decepticons have elected him to be their leader."

    "Really?" Elita said. "How did that happen?"

    "From what I hear, he gave a rousing speech to them in Kaon... though I'm more willing to believe that the Decepticons simply no longer care who leads them at this point. A good number of them have already left Cybertron to either return to New Kaon or find somewhere else to settle."

    "I'm not sure I like the idea of Starscream leading the Decepticons again," Elita murmured. "I'd keep an optic on him."

    "We already are," Optimus said. "There's also the matter of the war still going on with the Predacons on Animatron. Leo Prime and his Maximals will be staying here until we have a plan for handling that situation."

    The two continued on in silence until they exited the Great Dome. As they stepped out into the night-lit streets of Iacon, Elita quietly said, "Do you still find it hard to believe? About Megatron?"

    "Yes," Optimus said wistfully, looking pensive. "Yes, I find it very hard to believe. But whats done is done."

    "Aren't you worried about the repercussions it may have? The Decepticons may gain stronger political power now that their former leader is seen as a hero by some."

    "From what I've been seeing, Elita, is that it is not Megatron who is being hailed as our savior, but rather Optronix," Optimus said. "Still, I understand your concerns. After all we've been through, I doubt an everlasting peace with the Decepticons will be possible. But for now, let's make the best of everything as much as we can."

    Elita nodded before smiling at the Autobot leader. "So, are you still too busy to spend some time with your significant other?"

    Optimus looked down at her and chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I owe you as much after a century-long absence. But first I'll need to stop by Ratchet for repairs. This body has seen better days."

    "Maybe you should go for a new color scheme. I think black would suit you--"

    "No, it wouldn't," Optimus said quickly. "Trust me, it wouldn't."

Present day

    Hot Rod knew that he should not have been feeling nervous-- he had brought this upon himself, after all. Regardless, it was hard not to feel jittery about being face-to-face with the one and only Optimus Prime.

    After having waited patiently for about an hour (just barely though), he was finally called in to enter the Prime's office. Doing his best to appear as mature and confident as possible, Hot Rod stepped into the office.

    He wasn't exactly sure what he had been expecting to be Prime's office, but he certainly wasn't thinking of a simple room with a desk, three chairs, and a few personal belongings. No holographic busts of Primes, no ancient sculptures; it was like any other mech's habitiation suite.

    Optimus Prime himself was sitting at his desk, analyzing a datapad. Upon noticing Hot Rod's entrance, the Autobot leader gestured towards one of the two unoccupied chairs at his chair. "Take a seat, Hot Rod."

    Hot Rod did as told and silently waited for the Prime to speak again.

    Without lifting his gaze from his datapad, Optimus said, "So you wish to command a ship."

    "Yes, sir," Hot Rod said.

    "To find the mythical Knights of Cybertron."

    "Yes, sir."

    "Why?"

    Hot Rod took a moment to prepare his rehearsed speech before answering. "Because, sir, I know this peace isn't going to last forever. The Decepticons are still their evil selves and they have plenty of war crimes to account for. It is my belief that the Knights of Cybertron-- whom I'm positive exist-- can restore our lost culture and fully reunite our race."

    "And how do you intend to find them?"

    Hot Rod winced slightly. He had not rehearsed for that.

    "Well, Drift and his friends in the Circle of Light are kind of working on that. They believe that they have found some sort of map to Cyberutopia, the Knights' fabled home. At least, they're pretty set on that theory."

    Optimus lifted his gaze at him. "Not much to go off of, especially to lead a crew of over a hundred Autobots."

    "Yeah, I guess..." Hot Rod muttered.

    Optimus set down his datapad and folded his hands together. "Have you ever commanded a team before, Hot Rod?"

    Hot Rod sighed. "Once, about 130 years ago. I led a team of Autobots to Ki-Aleta to search for the Magnificence."

    "And did you succeed?"

    Hot Rod bowed his head. "No. Most of my teammates were killed by the Omega Guardians that guarded the Magnificence and the rest of us were forced to retreat."

    "I see." Optimus rose from his seat, turning around to look out his window. "Tell me, Hot Rod: do you think you're up to the task of leading this quest?"

    "Yes."

    "Be honest now."

    Hot Rod hesitated. "Yes-- well, no. At least, not by myself. I would need someone at my side, help show me the ropes and stuff. But I'm sure I'd do good, Prime. After all, I've seen you in action on the bridge."

    Optimus turned around again to face him, a twinkle in his blue optics. "That's a good enough start. I'll put your request under consideration. Until then, I'd go out and let the word out of this prospective quest; see if there's enough interest."

    Hot Rod nodded as he got up from the chair. "Will do, Prime."

    Walking around his desk, Optimus stepped up to the younger Autobot and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I see much potential in you, Hot Rod. You are driven and out-going, qualities that are good for leaders. But you can be impulsive and reckless. Keep your crewmates interests in mind before making any important decisions."

    Hot Rod nodded again. "Understood, Prime. And... thank you."

    "Don't mention it. Dismissed."

    Optimus watched as the young mech left his office. He saw much of himself in the younger Autobot-- specifically his own younger self, when he had been Orion Pax. Perhaps there would be a day when he would eventually retire and see Hot Rod take his place.

    But not today. Not for a very long time.

Cybertron, astronomy tower

    "See? Solus' Arrow is pointing towards The Core, as it always does in orbital cycle Chokoneon."

    "So?" Outrigger grunted, obviously disinterested.

    Drift rolled his optics. "So it must mean something! Maybe Cyberutopia is among the stars that make up The Core."

    "Or maybe the night's just getting to you." Outrigger stifled a yawn. "I wouldn't put any faith in constellations, Drift. All they are are the results of someone playing connect-the-dots with the stars. They don't mean anything."

    Drift frowned at him. "I thought you wanted to find Cyberutopia."

    "I do-- believe me, I do. But we need something more concrete to find it." Outrigger turned to leave. "I'm turning myself in for the night. Don't stay up too late."

    Drift remained out on the balcony, staring up at the nighttime sky. He was determined to find what he was looking for, if only so that Hot Rod's quest could go underway.

    "Star Saber told me you'd be out here."

    Drift did not turn around to face his visitor, though he knew who it was. "Were you looking for me, Windblade?"

    "Yes." The red and black fembot walked up to stand beside him as he continued to stare at the stars. "I wanted to talk to you. About what happened on Earth."

    "You mean when you tried to kill me?"

    Windblade bristled slightly at Drift's bluntness. "Yeah, that. I just wanted to stay... I'm sorry."

    Drift shrugged. "Hey, don't fret about it. You're not the first Autobot who's tried to kill me."

    Windblade looked at him, surprised. "Wait... so you forgive me? Just like that?"

    "Why not? I can hardly blame you for how you acted and why. Heck, I'm the one who needs to apologize; not just for killing Yoketron, but for all the other atrocities I took part in as a Decepticon."

    Windblade tilted her head. "You know, I always meant to ask... why did you leave the 'Cons?"

    Drift was silent for a moment before speaking. "During my time at Garrus-9, after you captured me on Taros Seven, I got my fair share of cellmates and got snippets of the war from them. As time went on, the more I heard about the war made me horrified by what the Decepticons had done. When I got out of Garrus-9 during a P.O.W. exchange, I took for the stars, abandoning my Decepticon life."

    "And then you decided to join the Autobots?"

    "Not immediately. First I traveled to Theophany and trained under the Circle of Light for some time. Then I went to practically every corner of the galaxy, exploring all sorts of religious sects and their beliefs. After I helped a team of Autobots defeat the Decepticon warlord Gigatron, I decided to become one myself and ended up on Earth."

    "Wow." Windblade couldn't help but smirk. "You've had quite the eventful life."

    Drift returned the smile. "Yup. Which is why I'm determined to help Hot Rod find Cyberutopia. It's my belief that only the Knights of Cybertron can absolve me of my guilt and only then will I be at peace with myself."

    "Interesting." Windblade cast her gaze to the stars and said, "Have you found anything yet?"

    "I think I might have." Drift let out a sigh. "But it'll have to wait for tomorrow. It's by time I recharged."

    "I'll be seeing you then," Windblade said as she got up to stand on the balcony's railing.

    "Where are you going?" Drift asked.

    "To tie up loose ends." With that, she leaped off of the balcony and morphed into her jet form, taking off into the night.

Maccadam's

    "You know, you're not the first person to come to me with an offer," Devcon said.

    Ginrai set down his glass of engex, sitting across from the Autobot bounty hunter at the reopened Maccadam's Old Oil House. "The Wreckers?"

    "Yeah, they thought I'd fit right in with my hatred for 'Cons and hunting skills. But I declined them."

    "Why?"

    "Have you seen them in action? The things they do to 'Cons make them no better than our enemies."

    "Well, the Circle of Light isn't anything like that," Ginrai said. "We could use someone with your tracking skills, Devcon."

    Devcon snorted. "One problem: I don't believe in any of that scrap you preach about Primus and the Guiding Hand. Besides, I thought your boss hated Autobots as much as Decepticons."

    "He's become more... lenient towards them in recent times," Ginrai replied. "Anyway, I'm not here to offer you membership in the Circle, Devcon, but to hire you."

    "What's in it for me?"

    "Five million Shanix."

    Devcon's optics nearly bulged. "Five million--? Slag, man, you do not joke about that."

    "I'm being serious."

    The bounty hunter thought this over for a moment before saying, "What's the job then?"

    Ginrai steepled his fingers. "It's not really a singular objective. Dai Atlas wants to find whatever has been left of our first Golden Age: the Artifacts of the Primes, the Titans... and eventually the Knights of Cybertron. I know you have no interest in myths and legends, but we have evidence that the Artifacts do indeed exist."

    "What sort of evidence?"

    Ginrai reached into a compartment on his hip and brought out a strange round object, dispensing it onto the table. Devcon regarded it with a surprised look.

    "Is that--?"

    Ginrai nodded. "The Chimera Stone. Micronus Prime's artifact."

    Devcon picked it up and held it away from his scrutinizing optic. "And it's authentic?"

    "Yes, and I should know." Ginrai beckoned with his hand and a small purple jet suddenly flew up next to him, transforming into its robots mode. "I asked an expert."

    "Beta Maxx, at your service," the Mini-Con said. "It is my wish to continue where Alpha Trion had left off in exploring Cybertron's past, and your services would be greatly appreciated in such an endeavor."

    Devcon rubbed his chin as he looked from the Chimera Stone to the two expectant mechs. Finally, he held out a hand for Ginrai to shake.

    "You've got yourself a deal."

*  *  *

    Windblade found Star Saber exactly where he had said he would be: standing outside the Old Oil House in Iacon, waiting for his fellow Circle member Ginrai. She transformed to her jet mode and landed right in front of the red and blue warrior.

    "Okay, I'm here," she said. "Why did you ask to see me?"

    Star Saber regarded her silently for a moment before saying, "I'm surprised it's taken you so long to remember me."

    "What are you talking about?" she asked.

    "Gigantion wasn't our first meeting. We originally crossed paths on Theophany, less than a millennia ago."

    Windblade tapped her chin as she recollected her memories of Theophany. "I only remember meeting someone named Wing Dagger. Are you and he...?"

    "We are one and the same, yes," Star Saber said. "I left the Circle of Light twenty-five years ago to follow my own path, though it wasn't long before I encountered Chief Justice Tyrest. He spoke of rediscovering Cybertron's past, which swayed me to his side. He then gave me a new body, dubbed me his enforcer, and I took on the name Star Saber."

    "Huh. So, in a way, you essentially became the Dark Evangelist you were trying to warn me about all those years ago."

    Star Saber slowly nodded. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Heh... sounds like the premise of a tragic fable."

    After a brief lull in the conversation, Windblade decided to change the subject. "So will you be returning to the Lost Light?"

    Star Saber shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Dai Atlas has allowed me back into the Circle of Light and we're preparing for a quest of our own, one which I have a great interest in."

    "Well then, I guess this is goodbye. It's been nice knowing you, Star Saber... even though you were trying to kill us at first."

    "Likewise, Windblade. And who knows...." Star Saber lifted his gaze to the twinkling stars. "Perhaps our paths shall cross again, if Primus allows it to be so."

Six months ago

    "Well, what do you think?"

    Getting up from the repair slab, Optimus Prime flexed the arms of his new body and began packing back and forth, getting a feel for his new motors.

    "So far, so good," he said.

    "Give your transformation cog a spin," Ratchet said. "See if it works."

    Optimus did so, morphing into a red and blue truck. He drove around the medibay in it for a few minutes before returning to his robot mode.

    "Everything seems to be working fine," the Autobot leader said. "Thank you, Ratchet. You do very fine work."

    The medic grunted. "Enjoy it while you can; my skills aren't the same these days."

    "What do you mean?"

    Ratchet held up his hands. "My servos have been acting up. They're not as swift and efficient as they used to be, and they keep freezing up."

    "Have you thought about getting new ones?"

    Ratchet shook his head. "These hands are irreplaceable, Prime. Once they cease function, I cease to be of any use."

    Optimus seemed as if he was about to protest but decided against it; the doctor was simply in another one of his moods. "Have you been training any successors?"

    "Yeah, I've been giving First Aid some pointers. He might not be as skilled as most forged medics, but he's got the right personality-- and his bedside manner is light years better than Ambulon's."

    "Speaking of medics," Optimus murmured. "Have First Aid and Ambulon told you about Pharma yet?"

    The sigh which the old medic gave him told Prime everything he needed to know.

    "I used to respect him," Ratchet said quietly. "We worked together at the Deltaran Medical Facility. Him, Remedy, and me-- all three of us were at the top of our classes. Now with him being off his rocker and me being on my last legs... it feels like those days are at an end."

    "He's been put on trial, from what I hear," Optimus said. "If-- or rather, when he's proven guilty, there's a chance that his sentence will be death, for killing all of those patients at Delphi."

    "If you want my opinion on the matter, then I have none," Ratchet grunted. "Let them do what they want with him. In my eyes, he's already dead."

    "Very well. Just thought I'd ask." Turning to leave the medibay, Optimus gave the medic one last glance. "Thank you again, Ratchet. Never think your work is unappreciated."

    "Wouldn't dream of it...." Ratchet muttered.

Now

    "They say that a million years ago, on this very spot, the first Cybertronian realized that he could change shape. Six thousand years ago, right here, Nova Prime told the world that he had built an Ark...."

    Ratchet was the only one in the medibay watching Hot Rod's televised speech. He had heard word of some sort of quest being put under consideration by High Command. Given that Ultra Magnus was standing with the young Autobot as he made his speech, it must have been approved.

    "...Tomorrow, this patch of land becomes a launch pad. Tomorrow, a crew of Autobots and I shall set off to find the Knights of Cybertron, our fabled ancestors...."

    "Kid sure knows how to give a speech."

    Ratchet turned to see his old friend Remedy walk in to the room. He gave her a warm smile. "He sure does. Have you seen the crowds? You'd think Starscream was coming out and announcing to the world that he was a closet Autobot."

    Remedy chuckled. "That would be something. So, are you thinking of joining?"

    "You mean the quest?" Ratchet shrugged. "Probably. I know that I don't believe in any of that Guiding Hand rubbish, let alone the Knights... but First Aid told me that Hot Rod is planning on picking up stray 'bots along the way."

    "And you feel obligated to help fix them?"

    Ratchet nodded. "I'm getting old, Remedy. My hands are getting old. I want to make the best of what little use they have left, and since the war's over and all, there probably won't be as many injured 'bots as there used to be. Besides, Prime's still got you and Fixit to stand in for me."

    "That's true." Remedy fell silent for a moment before saying, "Anyway, I came here to give you a gift."

    "A gift? What did I do?"

    Remedy smiled. "You've fixed pretty much every Autobot that's ever served, including three Primes... and yet I don't think you've been rewarded for it."

    "Well, I have been given a Nominus Prize for Medicine." Ratchet shook his head. "But I don't need a reward, Remedy. Seeing each and every Autobot I've fixed live another day is enough for me."

    "Even so, please accept this one." She handed him a small metal box, shiny enough for him to see his reflection in it. "I say you've earned it."

    Ratchet opened his mouth to protest when a voice on the viewscreen caught his attention.

    "That was Rodimus of Nyon addressing a crowd at Rivets Field in Iacon earlier today...."

    Ratchet towards the viewscreen, his mouth agape. "'Rodimus?' He's calling himself 'Rodimus?' As in... what, a portmanteau of 'Hot Rod' and 'Optimus?'"

    "Wow," Remedy said, equally as bemused. "That's just... that's just wow."

    "I'll say," Ratchet grunted. Looking down at the box, he then said, "Anyway... thanks for the gift, Remedy. I... I appreciate it."

    "Not as much as we appreciate you," she replied cheerfully.

    Ratchet gave her a grateful nod before leaving the medibay. Once he was out in the streets of Iacon, he stopped to admire the package's finish one last time before opening.

    Inside, resting on a soft bed of white, was a pair of red hands.

    For the first time in forever, Ratchet grinned.

Six months ago

    "We the jury find the defendant guilty for the deaths of twenty Autobot patients at the medical facility Delphi on the planet Messatine, and for committing treason by falling in league with the Decepticon Justice Division. As punishment, he shall be sent to the Garrus-16 facility for life and be held under high security."

    "So be it then," Emirate Xaaron said as he slammed his mallet down. "Court adjourned."

    The Autobots in the courtroom began to file out while Pharma was escorted away. As he got down from his podium, Xaaron glanced at Ultra Magnus, who had been serving as prosecutor.

    "Brings back bad memories, doesn't it?" Xaaron said grimly.

    "The Aequitas trials? Indeed it does," Magnus said, bitterly recalling the trials which had revealed so many corrupt Autobots. "Which reminds me... has there been any word from Garrus-9?"

    Xaaron shook his head. "As far as I know, it's still under Decepticon control. Starscream tells me that he'll be looking into it--"

    "I don't trust Starscream as far as I can throw him," Magnus interjected. "The data which Aequitas contains is too valuable to let fall into Decepticon hands, even with the war over."

    "What do you propose we do?"

    Magnus rubbed his chin. "I think it's time we gave the Wreckers their last mission."

Three months ago

    Tailgate awoke to find a blinding light shooting right at him. He immediately let out a yelp and shielded himself from it.

    "No one told me the Afterspark was gonna be so bright," he muttered.

    "Tailgate?" The light instantly went away and Tailgate found First Aid staring down at him. "Are you awake?"

    "Er, I guess? I mean, I'm here talking to you, aren't I?"

    If First Aid had a mouth, he would have beamed. "You certainly are. You had us all worried though."

    "What do you mean? What did I do?"

    "You didn't do anything," First Aid said. "When we got Vector Sigma to cure your cybercrosis, you went into stasis lock to let your systems fully recover. Ambulon had estimated that it would only take two months at most, but when it got to be longer... we were all on the edge of our seats."

    "Oh. Well... sorry for keeping you in suspense."

    "Hey, don't worry about it. All that matters now is that you're awake and healthy." As First Aid started to detach the life support systems Tailgate had been hooked up to, the medic glanced towards the door. "There's gonna be someone who wants to see you. I'll just warn you now and say that they may give you an excited welcome."

    "Oh?" Tailgate tilted his head. "Who?"

    First Aid said nothing until he got to the door. "I'll leave it to her to tell you."

    He pressed the control panel and the door slide open to unleash a blue blur. It shot towards Tailgate's recharge slab and seized the white and blue Autobot, holding him tightly.

    "Tailgate, if you ever scare me like that again, I'm going to kill you," Glyph said, her voice trembling.

    "Um, okay," Tailgate squeaked from under her grip. "Sorry... about... that."

    "Glyph, if you squeeze him anymore, you might do just that," First Aid admonished her. Once Glyph had relaxed her hold on Tailgate, leaving them in a more peaceful embrace, the medic said, "If anyone needs me, I'll be... out here. Helping other patients... that need me. Just... don't mind me."

    The doctor slipped out of the medibay and the door closed behind him. Glyph then looked back at Tailgate and he immediately noticed something different about her.

    "You changed your face," he said. "I mean, now you... actually have a face."

    Glyph giggled as she smiled with her newly-placed mouth. "Yup. Skids suggested that I get rid of my visor and mouthplate because it made me look unapproachable." 

    "I've got a mouthplate and visor..." Tailgate said quietly.

    Glyph's optics went wide, realizing what she had just said. "No, no! I didn't mean... I think he was just talking about how it fitted me."

    Tailgate looked at her with a down-turned visor. "Are you sure?"

    "Yes, trust me. I almost always show my love for archaeology and with that plus my old look, people basically mistook me for a miniature Mainframe, and he's not necessarily the most sociable of 'bots."

    "Yeah, I guess you're right," Tailgate murmured. "But does that mean I should...?"

    "No, silly," Glyph giggled (an act which made Tailgate's spark miss a pulse). "You have the most personable and adorable face I know."

    It wasn't until now that Tailgate realized how close his and Glyph's faces were. They were close enough that he could see just how blue her optics were, just how gold her face plating was....

    "Tailgate," she whispered, snapping him from his trance. "I... I was afraid I would never get the chance to say this when I thought you were... when I thought I would lose you, but...."

    "Yes?" Tailgate asked when she hesitated. 

    She cupped his face with her hands and brought it closer to her face. She then pressed her lips against his mouthplate and he felt an arc of energy pass between them. His visor flared slightly and he pulled away from her, blabbering as his head spun.

    Glyph held a hand up to her mouth as she giggled again. "I guess you've never been kissed before, huh?"

    "Wuz... was that what that was?"

    "Yes. It's a practice amongst organics-- particularly Nebulans-- to express their love between each other."

    Tailgate finally gathered his senses gain and looked at her. "So... when you kissed me just now, you were telling me that...."

    "That I love you, yes."

    "As if we didn't see that one coming."

    The two lovebirds spun around to see that the medibay's door was open and that Swerve and Rewind were standing in the doorway.

    And Rewind's camera light was on.

    The archivist held up his hands defensively as Glyph stormed up to him, anger slowly etching out on her face. "Look, I'm sorry. Swerve told me that there would be something interesting in the medibay and that I absolutely needed to record it and I had no idea you would be here and I didn't think you would be kissing--"

    Tailgate made a mental note to never get on Glyph's bad side as he watched his new girlfriend pursue the two mechs down the corridor.

Six months ago

    A swift kick sent a piece of rubble flying through the sky. A blast from the kicker's gun vaporized the debris before it could even touch the ground. The kicker then did the same to another chunk of ruble. Then another. Then another.

    "What's the matter, Blitz'? This place not desolate enough for you?"

    Blitzwing whirled around to face Barricade, who was accompanied by Thundercracker and Skywarp. Scowling, the Triple Changer said, "It doesn't make sense! All of the other cities were made shiny and brand new! Why does Kaon get the short end?"

    "Kaon has never been a glittering jewel of a city like Iacon or Rodion," Thundercracker pointed out. "It's always been Cybertron's exhaust port."

    "That's no excuse for looking like scrap," Skywarp muttered. "I still say Vector Sigma was biased towards the Autobots."

    "It's a frikkin' computer!" Thundercracker snapped. "It's been asleep for eons! It doesn't even know what an Autobot or Decepticon is!"

    "A break. I need one. Give it to me."

    Thundercracker rolled his eyes but said nothing. As he and the other two watched Blitzwing kick and obliterate more debris, Barricade said, "Say, where's Lugnut? Aren't the two of you always together or something?"

    Blitzwing switched his face to his "Icy" persona. "I have not seen him since Cybertron's restoration. My guess is that he's clinging onto the futile belief that Megatron is still alive and has left in search of him."

    "What an idiot," Skywarp scoffed. "Not that that should come as a surprise."

    Thundercracker muttered something under his breath about a pot and a kettle, but his brother Seeker did not hear him. Barricade found a slab of metal to sit on and made himself comfortable.

    "So," he said, "I guess Starscream's back in charge again."

    Blitzwing returned to his default "Angry" persona and chucked a rock in the air, letting it crash in the distance. "I can't believe we let that slagger back in control! Have we all forgotten how poorly he ran things before Megatron returned?!"

    "Oh, I'm sure we haven't forgotten," Barricade said. "But at this point, with us having lost the war and Megatron being dead, we could have a petro-rabbit leading us now and it wouldn't make a jot of difference. The war is over and we lost. Let Starscream do what he wants; I'm done."

    Skywarp stared at him, aghast. "You're giving up?"

    "What's there to give up on? What part of 'we lost the war' did you not get?"

    "Just because the Autobots say it's over doesn't mean we still can't fight! We are still Decepticons to the core and we shall not give up!"

    "Fine," Barricade said flippantly. "Do what you will, but count me out of it."

    Skywarp stormed up to him and jabbed a finger at the Decepticon logo on Barricade's chest. "Are you one of us or not? If you're not gonna fight for our cause, then you might as well be an Autobot."

    Barricade glared at him. "I'd sooner go without a badge than take up theirs."

    In response, Skywarp swiped at Barricade's chest and scratched away most of his insignia. As Barricade gave him a withering glare, the Seeker sneered back at him.

    "If that's the case," the black jet said darkly, "feel free to get lost."

    Wordlessly, Barricade got up to his feet and, after giving Skywarp one last nasty look, converted to his alt mode and drove off. Once he was gone, Thundercracker stormed up to his brother and grabbed him by the shoulder.

    "What was that all about?" he bellowed. "He hadn't done anything to deserve that!"

    "He questioned the Decepticon cause!" Skywarp snapped. "He didn't deserve to wear that badge anymore!"

    "You're starting to sound like Lugnut," Thundercracker muttered. "He had a point, you know. There's nothing left to fight for anymore. There's no need for pointless violence."

    "Not you too. I could handle Knock Out leaving, 'cause who gives a frag about him. But you and Barricade have been true Decepticon from the start. Now you're just gonna let the Autobots have their way?"

    "Four thousand years, Skywarp. For four thousand years have we been fighting for control. And we lost each and every time. Call me superstitious, but I see that as some sort of sign."

    "I see it as incentive to keep fighting," Skywarp bit back. "The Autobots can't maintain a society made of different factions forever. It's time we showed them why that is."

    Thundercracker shook his head. "Whatever. Like Barricade said: Do all the slag you want, but don't expect me to join in."

    Skywarp blinked. "Wait... you're leaving too?"

    "I don't want to be around when the riots start. I've had enough of the violence."

    "But... but we're Seekers! Brothers! We always stick together!"

    "Where are the others then? I don't see Starscream or Slipstream or Ramjet. Do you expect them to be part of your little movement?" 

    Skywarp's mouth was open, but no words came from it. Not expecting a reply of any sort, Thundercracker turned on his heel and morphed to his jet mode. His fellow Seeker did not even try to stop him.

    As the blue jet slowly became a barely visible dot in the sky, Skywarp looked at Blitzwing, who was still throwing and blasting rubble.

    "A fat load of help you were."

    Blitzwing looked back at him with his "Random" face and simply cackled.

Six months ago

    She could deal with most kinds of pain. She had been shot at and stabbed at plenty of times during the war. But this was different.

    "...And then, one time, I was heading to my locker on the Xantium, and there was this note on it, and it said, 'Now we're even.' And I was like, 'Now we're even? Huh? What?' So I opened the locker...."

    She had seen many of her friends fall in combat. She had sat beside and mourned at plenty of bedsides. But this was different.

    "...And this Sharkticon pounces at me! Except it's not a Sharkticon but just a shoddy replica of one on a spring. Then I look over... and those two are hiding behind a bench, snickering at me."

    She had fallen in love before. But this was different.

    This was worse.

    Once he had calmed down from his laughter, Sandstorm said, "Yeah, I'll always remember Topspin and Twin Twist for moments like those. The Wreckers aren't quite the same without them now."

    The orange Autobot bowed his head before walking off stage. Standing towards the back, Emirate Xaaron read off the next name listed on his datapad.

    "Knock Out."

    From the crowd of Cybertronians came a Decepticons with pristine red armor plating. He wasted no time making his way towards the stage, looking as if he had better things to do than to give an eulogy to his fallen comrades.

    As he stood front and center, Knock Out let out a dramatic sigh. "Ah, yes, Runabout and Runamuck. I served with them on board the Nemesis in the last few months of the war. They were rude and obnoxious, making crude and vulgar jokes every chance they got. Tell them to go aft towards the ship's stern and they'd chuckle like morons at the word 'aft.'

    "They also enjoyed partaking in vandalism, such as disabling the door controls to one's quarters, plastering walls with pinup pictures of curvaceous fembots, and spray-painting obscene words on the back of Megatron's chair (mind you, they only did that once).

    "To this day, I cannot fathom why our wondrous leader selected them to serve on his flagship. My only guess is that he needed extra cannon fodder-- and obviously they fulfilled that purpose in the end. Since then, things have been a lot quieter and mundane without them... all for the better, I say. Good riddance."

    With that, he strode off the stage and returned to his seat. Xaaron rolled his optics before reading the next name.

    She watched as the Dinobots reminisced their old comrade Skar; as the Decepticon cassettes recalled their master Soundwave; as Getaway spoke of the Duobots; as Fulcrum eulogized Flywheels; as Shockwave and Yoketron were all remembered by those who knew them. No rhyme or reason were given to the order of the names, though everyone knew who would be saved for last.

    Then, once Perceptor had finished his speech on Azimuth, they called her name.

    "Livewire."

    All eyes were on her now. Taking a deep breath, she rose from her seat and made it towards the stage. Once she had taken her spot before the thousands of Cybertronians watching her, she gathered all of her courage and spoke.

    "Strongarm was the first friend I made at the academy, besides my brother Jolt, and all three of us were trained by Commander Halo. We were quite a tightly-knit group; you'd be hard-pressed to find us apart. Of course, High Command managed to find a way in the end.

    "Strongarm was the only one of us three to make it into the Elite Guard, while Jolt and I went on to serve in separate units. Every great once in a while we'd see each other again, whether on the battlefield or during downtime, but it would never be all three of us at once."

    Livewire paused for a few seconds, her spark performing somersaults in its chamber.

    "The last time I saw Strongarm, it was after the Vulcanus campaign, one year before the Cataclysm. We only talked for two hours or so, since it was on the way back to Cybertron, but in that short span of time... I realized just how close we had always been. Not only was she a great friend, but... she understood me in ways no one else did, not even Jolt. There was a connection between us that I never had with anyone else."

    She paused again, barely able to say the next set of words.

    "After that, she remained on Cybertron while I was stationed at the Orbital Command Hub for the next hundred years. Each day that passed me by, I thought of seeing her and Jolt again and telling them both how much they meant to me. And now...." She looked sadly towards the casket that represented Strongarm. "Now I'll never get that chance."

    She let those words hang in the air as she returned to her seat, her body trembling with all of the sorrow welled up within her. A mournful silence passed before Xaaron read the last name on his list.

    "Optimus Prime."

    Even the Decepticons present could not help but watch intently as the Autobot leader walked on stage, his expression a solemn one.

    "Those of you here now no doubt who Megatron is and how he died," the Prime said. "But what he was varies between some. Monster and idol, conqueror and savior, tyrant and hero... there does not exist a single words that perfectly describes him. Even his name fails to suffice, whether he was Optronix, the valiant soldier, or Megatron, the ruthless emperor. His story truly has no equal.

    "Am I here to vindicate his crimes as Megatron? No. Nor am I here to dishonor his heroics as Optronix. To tell the truth, there is no way to properly honor someone such as him without being controversial. All I can say is that, regardless of his atrocities, he was without a doubt a formidable warrior and leader for both factions. And however terrible his actions were, in the end, they changed us all for better or for worse.

    "And with that, my friends, I leave you. 'Till all are one."

*  *  *

    The funerary ceremony had ended half an hour ago, and yet Livewire still could not bear to leave Strongarm's casket. All of the things she could have said while she had the chance... all of those moments she cherished being washed away like tears in rain.

    "It's the worst kind of pain, isn't it?"

    Livewire turned to see a sleek, blue femme standing next to her, green visor gleaming in the light of the setting sun.

    "To be so close to someone, just to have them be town away from you before you can tell them everything you wanted to say," she went on.

    "You know that feeling?" Livewire asked.

    "Not the same way you feel it. But I know what it's like to have your feelings left unrequited."

    A silence fell over the two of them. Then, the blue femme turned to Livewire and offered her hand. "I'm Spiral, by the way. I come from Velocitron, so all of this war and death is kind of... a lot, to me."

    "Livewire. And I envy you. I probably would have gone to Velocitron or somewhere if I didn't have Strongarm and Jolt. And now that she's gone and Jolt hasn't spoken to me in years...."

    She sighed sadly as she returned her gaze to the casket. Spiral then reached out and gently brought her face back around to look at her.

    "Hey, don't be like that," she said. "I know you miss her, but... would she want you to be grieving at her coffin all day and not enjoying the new world she and everyone else fought for?"

    Livewire thought for a moment. "Well, no. No, she wouldn't. She'd want me to enjoy life now that the war's over."

    "That's what I was hoping to hear." There was another lull of silence before Spiral shifted her feet. "Say, uh, Blurr's reopened Maccadam's yesterday, and my friends and I were going to head over there. Care to join us?"

    For the first time in a long while, Livewire smiled. "I'd love to."

One month ago

    "Red Alert, leave us."

    "Are you sure, Prime? Might be dangerous handling him alone."

    "I'll be fine, trust me. Besides, I've dealt with worse than him."

    "Okay... but if you need me, I'll be right by the door. With a dozen other Autobots. All heavily armed and--"

    "Yes, thank you, Red Alert. You may leave now."

    Once the jittery security office had left the cell block, Optimus Prime walked up to the cell that contained Cyclonus. The former Herald of Unicron glared at him from behind the ray shield which separated the two mechs.

    After a long moment of silence, Optimus finally spoke. "Tell me about yourself, Cyclonus."

    "Why should I?"

    "In order for this conversation to go anywhere, I need to know you better. What's your story?"

    Cyclonus continued to glare at him for a moment before saying, "I was forged in Upper Tetrahex, not long after the Galactus Crusades ended."

    "Tetrahex.... Isn't that home to the Clavis Aurea religious order?"

    "Yes," Cyclonus hissed softly. "I was raised by their beliefs and am thus a strong believer of Primus and the Guiding Hand."

    "And yet you served under Unicron, Primus' supposed opposite."

    "I will elaborate on that later. When the War of the Thirteen Tribes broke out, I came to serve as a bodyguard for Galvatron, which eventually earned myself a place in Nova Prime's inner circle. I then bore witness to several conflicts, including those against the Destron Legions. I then came to serve aboard the Ark, though only at Galvatron's behest; Nova Prime and the rest of the crew saw me as a mere hanger-on."

    "Nightbeat tells me that he and Hardhead went through a black hole near Gorlam Prime, one of the Ark's intended destinations," Optimus said. "Did the Ark fall through the same anomaly?"

    Cyclonus nodded. "We ended up in the Dead Universe, where we were greeted by the Fallen. He tried to sway us to follow the will of Unicron, but Nova Prime -- being a believer of Primus himself -- would have none of it. He attacked the Fallen... which turned out to be not one of his wisest decisions."

    "I see. So the rest of you were forced to serve Unicron?"

    "Correct, although some of us were more willing that others. Galvatron, Jhiaxus, Scourge, and Grindcore were never true believers, so they eagerly allowed themselves to be converted. Tailpipe and I were more hesitant, though I was more easily convinced after the Fallen tore out Tailpipe's spark and used his body to create an effigy of Unicron."

    Optimus repressed a shudder from the horrific imagery forming in his mind. "I see. However, I find myself somewhat unconvinced that you were an unwilling servant of Unicron, given the loyalty and eagerness you showed during the battle."

    "Unicron had a rather strong influence on his slaves. We were little more than his puppets, to tell the truth. Galvatron and the rest only showed more personality given their genuine loyalty."

    "Some Heralds like Soundwave seemed to have more independence and were able to break off from Unicron's hold," Optimus noted.

    Cyclonus rubbed his chin. "Soundwave was something of an anomaly. I am aware of his connection to the first Primes, but beyond that, he is an enigma to me... and may forever remain so."

    Optimus nodded as he mulled over his next words. Looking Cyclonus straight in the optic, he said, "Do you feel any regret for your actions as a Herald?"

    Cyclonus folded his arms over his chest and avoided Optimus' gaze. "Some."

    "Some?"

    "I regret having ever fallen in league with Unicron, and I regret quite a few of the atrocities I committed in his service. However...." The former Herald let out a sigh. "I believed in the Reunification. I wanted to see Cybertron's glory restored, especially after seeing what your war had done to it."

    "We have succeeded in that regard, what you and the other Heralds failed to do." Optimus then moved towards a control panel next to Cyclonus' cell and accessed it, causing the ray shield to dissipate. "Would you like a tour of it?"

    Cyclonus stared at the Prime in surprise. "You're... you're letting me free?"

    "Why not? You have broken from Unicron's control and have returned to be the patriotic warrior you once were. There's no longer any sense in keeping you imprisoned any longer."

    Cyclonus remained standing their, nonplussed. "I... what motivated you to do this?"

    "Many things, primarily Soundwave's change of spark and the history records Rewind had on you. I already knew your story, Cyclonus."

    "Then... why come to me?"

    "I wanted to hear it from you, so that I would know I was doing the right thing."

    Cyclonus was silent for a moment. Then, he tentatively stepped out of the cell and met Optimus' gaze. "Thank you," he said after a long pause.

    "Don't mention it," the Prime said. "I suggest you leave through the emergency exit-- I've already disabled the alarm. No sense in you walking out only to get shot down by Red Alert."

    Cyclonus allowed the slightest of smiles to cross his face. "I admire Autobots like him, actually. They have their flaws, they know their flaws, and they overcome those flaws by using them to their advantage." He turned to head for the exit. "That's more than the rest of you can say."

    "Hello and welcome to the Lost Light Crew Auditions. My name is Swerve, world-class bartender and metallurgist, and these are my colleagues, Crosscut and Riptide."

    The silver and red Autobot sitting to his right gave a half-hearted wave while the blue Hydrobot merely played with his datapad with a look of visible disinterest.

    Clearing his throat, Swerve began his prepared speech: "Anyway, I'll be the first to tell you that tons of people have wanted to join the crew of the Lost Light. Tons. But as you must understand, a ship only has so much room and we can't fit every last Cybertronian on board. So here is where you make your audition; tell us about yourselves and we'll decide if you deserve a role in our extraordinarily awesome quest. 

    "The floor is yours, Ammo. Impress us."

    "Um, right." The blue and yellow Autobot, who lacked any indicator of a second mode, settled himself in the chair opposite the three judges. "My name's Ammo. Ammo of the Attack on K'th Kinsere."

    "That's an unwieldy name," Swerve said. "You're an M.T.O., I take it?"

    "Yup... you're not prejudiced towards constructed cold 'bots, are you?"

    "Of course not! Why, Riptide here is a Made to Order Soldier himself and a very good friend of mine! Isn't that right, Riptide?"

    The Hydrobot merely grunted.

    "So, what can you do, Ammo?" Crosscut asked. "What's your alt mode?"

    "I don't have one," Ammo said. "I'm a monoformer."

    "No worries there!" Swerve said. "We have plenty of monoformers already aboard!"

    "We do?" Crosscut said, bemused.

    "Sure, there's Ambulon--"

    "He turns into a leg."

    "Oh, right. Well, there's Rung--"

    "He does have an alt mode, he just never turns into it."

    "Oh, yeah." Swerve scratched his head. "Well, I'm sure you'd still fit in. Do you have any sort of talent?"

    "Well, I always carry extra ammo on me-- hence my name-- so I can provide them to others while out on the battlefield. Plus, I'm pretty handy with a gun."

    "Excellent! We hope to see on board. Next!"

*  *  *

    "H-hi, sir," the red and white mech said as he entered the room with an anxious expression. "Are you... are you Swerve?"

    "Yeah," the Minibot said, eying the other Autobot skeptically. "I'm pretty sure I just introduced myself. And you are?"

    "C-Clutch." The mech suddenly started biting the tips of his fingers. "Oh my spark, I can't believe this. I'm standing in front of the one and only Swerve!"

    At this, a stunned silence fell over the judges. Crosscut looked between Clutch and Swerve with a bewildered look while Riptide simply watched on in amusement.

    Clearing his throat again, Swerve said, "I... take it you've heard of me?"

    "I'm your biggest fan!"

    Swerve backed up slightly in his seat, as if being pushed away by this outburst. Then, unsure whether or not this was some sort of elaborate prank, he said hesitantly, "Um... you are?"

    "Yes! I've ready everything you've ever written on metallurgy! I study your work every single day!"

    "You do, do you?" Swerve smiled weakly. "Um, if I recall, I've only published one data-log on metallurgy... and that was heavily panned by my colleagues."

    "Oh, I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about your works published in Timeless, like Beauty Is Only Sheen Deep and The Mettle of Metal. Both are frequently read by the Swerve Fan Club."

    "Fan club?!" Swerve exclaimed incredulously. "I have a fan club?!"

    "You sure do!" Clutch eagerly replied. "We're only three in member so far, but I'm sure it'll grow as your popularity increases."

    For once in his life, Swerve found himself speechless, merely staring at his fan with his mouth agape.

    After a long moment of silence, Crosscut nodded to Clutch. "We'll be seeing you on board, Clutch."

    The ecstatic Autobot let out a cheer as he excitedly ran off, still leaving a shocked Swerve in his wake. It was up to Riptide to say, "Next!"

*  *  *

    "Powerglide," the tall red Autobot flier introduced himself as he seated himself (rather uncomfortably) in the small chair. "You could say I'm something of a daredevil. The Aerialbots rejected my application twice-- and they've already got Air Raid! I guess you could say I'm too good for them, heh."

    "Uh-huh." Swerve looked Powerglide up and down before shaking his head. "Sorry, sir, but you're too tall."

    "Excuse me?"

    "You're too tall. I'm not sure if there are any habitation suits big enough to accommodate your size."

    "You're joking, right? Ultra Magnus is as big as me-- maybe even bigger-- and he's second-in-command!"

    "Yeah, well, he's also Ultra Magnus, so there. Next!"

    However, before the next Autobot could walk in, a voice called out, "You are being deceived!"

    All three judges looked in surprise to see Nightbeat storming into the room, waving his arms wildly like a fervent agitator. He quickly dropped the act before smirking.

    "This is all a prank by Swerve," the detective said to Powerglide and those waiting outside. "Come on, do you really think we'd turn down someone for being 'too tall?'"

    Swerve scowled at him. "I'm sure plenty of ships have done that! Is that all it takes to tell you it's a prank?"

    "Well, there's that... plus the fact that you're involved... and also because there is no way in Pit would Ultra Magnus allow something like this be called 'Crew Auditions,' let alone...."

    He then pointed to a sign right next to the door. It read "Crewditions."

    At this, most of the Autobots started to walk away, muttering under their breaths. Finding himself rendered speechless yet again, Swerve could only scowl at the detective.

    "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

    Nightbeat simply grinned at him.

Later

    "Did you succeed in getting on board?"

    "Yes, sir," a voice crackled through Prowl's communicator. "There was a slight mix-up regarding 'auditions,' but I have gotten myself onto the crew."

    "Good," Prowl replied. "I will be expecting regular reports from you."

    "Understood. Signing off."

    Once the connection had ended, Prowl heard a knock at the door to his office. Knowing who it was, he said, "Come in."

    The door slid open to reveal a black and gold Autobot, stepping in with a stoic expression on his faceplate. As the door closed behind him, the mech folded his arms over his chest.

    "I've done some digging-- about the device you guys found on Earth."

    "And what did you find, Crosswise?" Prowl asked.

    "Not as much as I would have hoped. Apparently it was a remote of some sort, connected to the drones Scorponok had under his command."

    "And is it Institute tech?"

    "Definitely. It seems to have some of the cerebro tech that they used to use there."

    "And do you have any ideas on how Scorponok was able to acquire such tech?"

    Crosswise shook his head. "Only that he must have been given it. I'm assuming there's a mole in our ranks."

    Prowl nodded. "Then it's up to you to find out who they are."

    Crosswise frowned. "Where would I even begin?"

    "Where else? The very planet it was found on."

    "Earth."

    Prowl nodded again, a humorless smile playing on his mouth. "I suggest you leave soon. For all we know, we could be racing against the clock."

The Lost Light

    "He's a liar... she's been placed in an asylum twice... I arrested him for impersonating a senior officer... I don't trust him ever since that turbofox incident... he owes me money."

    Ultra Magnus' frown deepened as his optics went further down the list.

    "She used to be a Decepticon... I don't trust him or him, especially not in their combined form... he's a wanted arsonist... he disobeyed a traffic sign... and if he's who I think he is, never, ever let him near a crossbow."

    Slouched in the command chair, Rodimus stifled a yawn as he turned to look at Magnus. "All that out of two hundred and nine crew members?"

    "No, those were just the 'A's."

    Rodimus sighed. "I swear, Magnus, you would arrest someone with their badge at an angle if it made you suspicious enough."

    "As a violation of the Military Regalia Act, of course!"

    "What happened to your whole 'loosening up' thing?" Drift asked, standing to the side. "With Tyrest gone, I thought you'd be a little less... strict."

    Magnus folded his arms over his chest. "Old habits die hard, I suppose." He then shot a look of disapproval at Rodimus. "I still don't approve of you allowing Decepticons to sign on."

    "The war's over, Magnus. Our factions are just... they're just symbols we wear now. They don't mean anything more than that. Besides, I've only seen, like, one or two sign up."

    "One Decepticon is one too many, if you ask me."

    Rodimus waved a dismissive hand. "Hey, why else do you think I put Red Alert at the door? He's worse than you are when it comes to trusting people. But he wasn't made director of security for no reason."

    Magnus rolled his eyes but decided it best to drop the subject. "So, any idea where we're going to start?"

    "Well, Drift's found a map--"

    "Don't tell me," Magnus said exasperatedly. "He found it in the stars."

    "Hey," Drift said, "I checked my findings with Perceptor and Rewind and they thought I might have found something. Besides, it's not like you could've done better."

    Magnus simply shook his head. "Forget it. I just hope you know what you're doing, Rodimus."

    "I do. Trust me, I do. Everything will go fine."

*  *  *

    "You're gonna have to let me check your briefcase, Brainstorm."

    "You're joking," the Autobot inventor said. "Don't you have any idea what's in it?"

    "No, which is precisely the point," Red Alert grunted. "I have to check it to make sure you're not smuggling weapons."

    "Weapons? Oh, no, no, no, my friend. Try the end of the world as we know it. Besides...." Brainstorm held up a metal card. "Rodimus has had me exempted from all security checks. See? It's even got a rubsign."

    Red Alert scowled at the card as if it had just insulted his mother. "Fine, you can go on board. But if you do end up opening that briefcase and killing half the crew...."

    Brainstorm chuckled. "Don't worry about that happening."

    As the inventor boarded the ship, Red Alert called on the next person in line. A skinny orange mech came up, carrying a large box.

    As Red Alert read his identity card, the security officer rubbed his chin. "'Rong of the Pious Pools'... I think I know you."

    "It's supposed to be 'Rung,' and I would hope so; not only have we served on this ship together before, but I've also been your psychiatrist."

    "Oh, that's right! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you--"

    "For six centuries."

    "...Right. So, what's in the box?"

    "Trinkets, mainly," Rung said, lifting up the lid for Red Alert to see. "I like to make model ships in my spare time. I've got the Ark, the Steelhaven, the Longbow...."

    "Wait, we've been at war for a thousand years. How did you manage to hold onto all of these?"

    Rung smiled. "I guess I just have a knack for keeping out of harm's--"

    "Incoming!"

    The warning came too late and before Red Alert knew it, both he and Rung were sent tumbling into the ship as a purple fighter crashed into them.

Nightbeat's datalog

    Can you believe it's been a thousand years since I last came to this? Seriously; exactly one thousand years ago-- give or take six months-- I was sitting in Maccadam's, trying to write this autobiography when I noticed two Decepticon goons running rampant on the streets. On that same day was the assassination attempt on Sentinel Prime, then the murders and the breakouts and the war... I just could never find the time.

    And the thing is... I find that I'm a different person now than when I first started this datalog thing. Since then, I've seen so many deaths, so many atrocities, and so much... despair. Not only that, but there's my whole connection to the Heralds of Unicron; it may be irrelevant now but it's still a mystery I intend to look into.

    Speaking of mysteries... there's something about this ship, something that strikes me as... I don't know. Like there's more to it than meets the eyes. I asked Nautica and Riptide about it, since they were serving on board before Elita took charge, but they knew not much more than I did. Then there's the matter of their previous captain....

    Of course, those are all things that can wait another day. Right now, it's time to relax and enjoy the peacetime. After all, who knows when the next big war starts.

Swerve's

    "Are you gonna order something yet, or are you too busy writing?"

    Nightbeat looked up from his datapad to see Swerve waiting at the counter. With the faintest of smiles, the detective said, "Engex. Strongest you've got."

    Swerve nodded before glancing at Nightbeat's datapad. "Working on a story?"

    "Autobiography, actually."

    "Oh." Swerve then grinned. "Am I in it?"

    Nightbeat smirked. "You'd have to be if I'm going to recount everything."

    "Awesome! I'm going to be a published character! With my own fanbase!"

    "Don't you already have one of those?"

    Swerve scowled at him. "Don't start with me...."

    As the bartender left to prepare Nightbeat's beverage, the detective looked down at what he had originally written. Deciding it easier to simply start again, he began typing.

    It was a night like any other....