Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ship's engine groaned to a halt, parking at the spaceport of what appeared to be a bustling town, its largest buildings forming spires that reached only a small fraction the height of Cybertron's tallest structures. Many beings, big and small, could be seen walking throughout during the ship's descent; a number of them were mechanical while others were organic. It was, in many ways, a thriving community of different people that made this isolated moon their home. The ship's pilot, a tall femme with armor plating of a reddish hue, smiled at the sight.

"Are you sure about this, General?" asked the bot sitting beside her; a large Cybertronian armored in shades of blue, the most prominent of which was his shoulder pads. As she turned to face him, he said, "I have my doubts that we'll find much here, all things considered.

"Looks can be deceiving, Magnus. Besides, low on fuel and options," she replied, "And as I've said, just call me Elita."

"Understood ma'am," Ultra Magnus saluted, prompting Elita-1 to chuckle slightly and roll her optics. She'd always encouraged that the militaristic old bot loosen up throughout their travels across the galaxy, but those efforts fell on deaf audio receptors with how accustomed to protocol he was.

"In any case, let's head out and see what we can find here," Elita got up from her seat, Magnus just behind her, and exited through the ship's rear ramp. Walking down the landing strip and entering the town's dirt roads, Elita was able to recognize a number of the species that inhabited this place. She saw Cybertronians like her and Magnus, all minding their own business and chatting about their Solar Cycle alongside others that rivaled them in size, such as Catharsians and IIxians. All of them were mindful of their steps, as smaller, organic races like A'ovans, Kree, and Elonians were amongst them. Some were at booths selling wares to customers, while others were just walking about like everyone else.

So many living together in one place, Elita happily mused as she and her companion continued their trek through the town, taking in the peaceful surroundings. In a way, she was taken back to times before the war broke out, such as her times studying, and later teaching, at the Institute for Higher Programming. Back when she focused exclusively on her classes while her friends encouraged her to get out and enjoy herself. Back when there were no worries about dying in a hail of laser blasts. After a while, she reminded herself why they were here and stopped at a small beverage kiosk. Kneeling down, she greeted its owner, "Hello there."

"Howdy," the owner replied, a distinct drawl to his voice. Elita saw that he was a Miliarian, who politely asked, "Wish I could give you somethin', but I'm afraid I ain't got anythin' for people of your height. Sorry bout that."

"That's quite alright, civilian," Magnus answered, "We have no need for refreshments anywa-"

"Actually," Elita interrupted, "Drinks don't sound so bad. Any chance you can point us to a good bar, maybe somewhere for Cybertronians like me and my partner here?"

Magnus looked to her in confusion, "But General, shouldn't we be focusing on finding supplies?"

"Well, bars are a good spot to gather information, so someone there could point us in the right direction," Elita pointed out as she stood tall and smiled, "Not to mention I really could use a good drink right now."

"I see. Understood then," Ultra Magnus saluted. Elita shook her head and moved the first lieutenant's servo down.

"Like I said, no need for that."

"Hey, you two said you were lookin' for a bar?" the Miliarian drew their attention, "I'd recommend you head on over to Maccadam's Old Oil House. Best place for any non-organic to fuel up."

"What other information do you have on this place?" Magnus asked.

The Miliarian shrugged, "Not much else I can say. From what I've heard, the place and its owner, Maccadam, have been here for a long time. Almost as long as the town itself. Not to mention that if you're lookin' for information, no one here knows more than him."

Elita hummed in thought, nodding, "Sounds good. We'll check it out," she leaned down and asked, "Could you please give us some directions?"

Looks like the place, Elita thought as she looked upon the building, a bot walking out the automatic doors with drink in servo, giving her and Magnus a glimpse of the interior. From what little she saw, the place was filled to the brim with several Cybertronians, Mini-Cons, Catharsians, and Chromites, all drinking to their Spark's content (metaphorically in the case of the latter two, since she was aware they lacked Sparks). Even from out here, the rather calming music made its way to her audio receptors. Elita hummed at how catchy it was.

"It seems...adequate, I suppose," Magnus said, looking at the flashing, holographic sign atop the building's front, the name of the place proudly displayed. The language shifted every few Nano-kliks for all to read, and above the name was the image of an elderly bot with bright, circular optics.

"Take it you've never been to a bar before?" Elita asked, servos at her hips.

Magnus shook his head, "I never saw the appeal in such activities. They seemed too distracting for my liking."

"Hey, nothing wrong with a little distraction. Took me a while to learn to loosen up," Elita walked ahead towards the entrance, briefly looking back to Magnus. "Information's not gonna come out here to us," she pointed out, "Let's head in. See what we can find."

Ultra Magnus nodded and with a salute, he followed her inside. Upon entering, the music's audio surrounded them, as did the chatter of every patron present. Much of it was small talk about their days, their loved ones, or what team in a sport was winning. Other chatter, however, was fearful, as some patrons spoke of the growing Decepticon Empire, and worried of the possibility that it would reach their homes.

It won't. We'll do everything we can to ensure it won't, Elita wasn't sure if she could keep that promise though. The Autobots were now scattered among the stars, while Megatron had total control of Cybertron. She knew that many out there were still fighting the good fight, doing what they could against the Empire's growing size, but she didn't know if it would be enough. But that didn't mean they wouldn't try.

"General Elita? Lieutenant Ultra Magnus?"

Huh? At the sound of their names, Elita and Magnus snapped their heads to the source and saw in front of them a fellow Autobot, one who stood at the former's height with black and white armor plating, as well as a notable red crest on his helm.

"Prowl?" Elita gasped, receiving a nod in kind.

"Good to see you're still functional, soldier," Magnus held out his servo, with Prowl reaching out and shaking it.

"Quite shocking for me to encounter three fellow Autobots in the same place."

"Wait, three?" Elita asked, looking around until her optics landed at the bar area in the front. There sat a bot with white armor plating and a prominent shoulder cannon. Most notably was the grey helm with protrusions at the sides, making him instantly recognizable to Elita. "Is that Wheeljack?" Elita pointed to the Wrecker as she faced Prowl, who nodded in confirmation.

"I'd talked with him earlier in the hopes that he had information I could use," Prowl said, "He didn't, unfortunately."

"You here looking for supplies like us?" Elita turned back to the former Security Operations officer.

Shaking his head, Prowl answered in a bitter tone, "No, I'm looking for someone rather than something. Unfortunately, no one here has anything useful," he turned to the bar's exit, "It was a pleasure to see you both again, but I'm afraid I must take my leave."

Before he could move, however, Elita stopped him, "Wait, who are you looking for?"

Prowl turned back to them with a brief glare, shrugging her servo off his shoulder as his demeanor grew cold, "That's none of your concern."

Ultra Magnus looked about ready to deride Prowl for taking such a tone towards his superiors, but Elita held a servo out and placated her friend. "Prowl," she began, "If something's wrong, we'd like to be able to help. We're friends, after all."

"It isn't your fight."

"As fellow Autobots and your superiors officers, I believe it very much is our fight," Magnus sternly said, "We may not be on Cybertron anymore, but the chain of command still applies, so tell us who you're looking for."

"Magnus!" Elita chided, "It's obvious this a personal matter, so we're not going to force anything out of Prowl if he doesn't want to tell us, understood?"

"...understood, General," Magnus nodded and stood back.

Elita pinched between her optics before giving Prowl her full attention, "Prowl, we understand that you don't want to tell us anything, but I tend to find in my experience that goals such as this are better attainable when working with others. Ever since the Autobots have been forced off Cybertron, we've been scattered and alone. But in the long run, on our own we can't do more than survive, and even that isn't certain. If we want to do more than just endure what the universe throws at us, we need to work together. Besides, I've lost enough friends that I'm not going to pass up the chance to help any I find, if I can."

Prowl's demeanor loosened up ever so slightly, but he still remained quite rigid and replied, "While your concern is noted, this is something I must see to by myself."

Elita went silent for a moment before she said, "If that's how you feel, then I suppose all we can do is wish you the best of luck," as Prowl nodded, Elita held out a communicator, "On the off-chance you change your mind, this will allow you to contact us."

"I doubt I'll be needing it," Prowl took the communicator, "But thank you."

Elita hummed, "Say, how about we all at least get a drink together before you head out? My treat."

Prowl looked about ready to say no, but much to Elita's surprise, he shook his head and brought a servo to his face, muttering, "I suppose one drink won't be the end of me."

"Great! While we're here, we can even catch up with Wheeljack," Elita turned and headed over to the front, briefly turning back and asking, "That work with you, Prowl?"

The bot in question shrugged, "Fine."

"Can't say I agree, but I'll follow your lead, General," Magnus resisted the urge to groan, Elita flashing him a sympathetic look. The old soldier didn't exactly agree with loose cannons, and sadly for him, Wheeljack was one of the loosest cannons of all.

As the three approached, Elita cleared her pipes and greeted, "Hello Wheeljack."

The Wrecker turned in his seat and faced them with a cocky grin, "Well what do we have here?" he nodded towards Elita, "Eli," a roll of the optics towards Magnus, "Chief," lastly came Prowl, "And Officer. Thought you'd have left by now."

"I was about to, but Elita convinced me to stay for a drink," Prowl answered, unperturbed by Wheeljack's nicknames as he pointed to her and Magnus, "Besides, they'd like the opportunity to catch up with you."

"What a coincidence! Just ordered mine," Wheeljack said as they all took their seats, "Maccadam should be out in a bit. You can make your orders, then we can all play catch up."

As if on cue, an elderly looking Cybertronian walked out from the door behind the bar, drink in his right servo. His face and helm looked just the same as the hologram outside, save for the fact that the bot himself was light brown in color around his torso and head while the armor on his arms and legs was black. "Brought your drink, Wheeljack! One fresh mug of Engex," Maccadam smiled and placed the drink in front of Wheeljack, "Still can't believe you can drink this many without tumbling over. I know I couldn't."

"Ha! Used to throw these back all the time on Velocitron, old timer," Wheeljack boasted before he began chugging down the mug's contents.

As the Wrecker drank, the owner looked to the rest of them, "Ah! Two of the Autobot leaders arrive!"

Elita and Magnus looked to each other in confusion before looking back to Maccadam, "How...how do you know who we are?"

"It's Maccadam," Wheeljack shrugged as he finished his drink and gave the mug back to the owner, "If there's one thing I've learned about him while I was here, it's that he knows everything."

"Not everything. I don't know what you three would like to drink yet," Maccadam joked.

After a bit of pondering and seeing the menu, Elita said, "I think I'll have a Visco."

"Just a cup of regular oil," Magnus gave his order.

"A Bloody Z for me," came Prowl's.

"Keep the Engexs coming for me!" Wheeljack's request prompted a nod from Maccadam, who went to the back to prepare their orders.

"So Wheeljack," Elita began as she turned to the bot in question, "What have you been up to since you left Cybertron?"

Wheeljack shrugged, "Been here, been there, fought off any Cons I came across, and blew up a moon," all of them, barring Prowl, looked at him with wide optics until he clarified, "Don't worry, it was uninhabited. Well, except for the Decepticons since they had an outpost there."

"Wheeljack, you really shouldn't be so reckless," Elita shook her head.

"I'm a Wrecker!" he scoffed, "Reckless is practically in the job description!"

"We're more than aware of that fact," Ultra Magnus practically huffed. Elita remembered his many rants about the sheer levels of insubordination and wanton destruction caused by the infamous unit. While she and Optimus led certain members on missions during the war and knew that at their cores, they were good bots ready to fight for what was right, she also saw how often their methods would endanger themselves and others. For that reason, it became accepted by the Autobots that Wreckers worked best with other Wreckers. Still, there were always a few exceptions to that rule.

"So, care to tell me why you're on this rock?" Wheeljack asked, "Doubt its for the drinks, but Maccadam makes some great Engex and Nightmare Fuel, I'll tell you that much."

"That doesn't sound good for your internal systems at all," Prowl dryly remarked.

"Chug it long enough and you'll build up some good tolerance."

"Wheeljack's terrible drinking habits aside," Elita interjected, "We're here to find some supplies. Short on fuel and Energon, not to mention our ship needs some spare parts to patch up the nav. computer. Took a few hits during an encounter with a Decepticon patrol. Think you could point us in the right direction?"

"Well, I-" Wheeljack was interrupted when Maccadam walked in from behind the bar, carrying everyone's drinks.

"Here you all are!" he stopped in front of Elita first, "One Visco," then came Magnus, "One oil," followed by Prowl, "a Bloody Z," and finally Wheeljack, "And another Engex for the Wrecker."

"Thanks," Elita pulled out the Shanix to pay for everyone's drinks before taking a sip of hers. For a moment, it took her back to before the war when she and Optimus shared this same drink on their first date together. As she finished up, she looked over to her fellow Autobots and saw them finish, each handing their mugs back to Maccadam.

"So, I hear your looking to patch up your ship, right?" the owner asked with a cheerful grin.

"Overheard our conversation?" Ultra Magnus gave the elderly bot a stern look, though Maccadam laughed it off. Putting that to the side, Magnus answered, "Yes, we require Energon and some components for our ship's navigational systems. Do you know where we can find anything of the sort?"

"There's a shop in town run by a Lithone named Shifter. He's got wares and goods for almost everything, including stocked up Energon for Cybertronian customers, weaponry, antiques, and all sorts of ship parts. Should include navigational components too," Maccadam explained before he gave them directions, "Though his trade is in bartering, so you won't be getting anything with Shanix, that's for sure."

"We should be able to manage that," Elita thought over which weapons she had at the moment and which ones she knew she could part with. After giving it some thought, she looked over to Wheeljack and asked, "Hey Wheeljack, any chance you'd like to tag along? Always room on the Alpha-5 for a few more."

Wheeljack rolled his optics, "Thanks but no thanks. Found that I work better on my own these days, and I ain't interested in hearing a sales pitch if you catch my meaning," he levelled a glare at Ultra Magnus, "Besides, got no interest in working with Lieutenant Rod up his Actuator."

Magnus glared back and clenched his fist, but before Elita could say anything, Maccadam spoke up in a shockingly stern tone, "Listen, both of you. My one rule is this: No fighting," if it were possible, his glare grew so intense that it completely snapped Magnus and Wheeljack out of their anger, "Understood?" Both of them looked fearfully to each other before facing the owner and nodding. In an instant, Maccadam smiled, "Great! Now if you'll excuse me, I have some inventory to check."

As Maccadam left, Elita sighed in relief at the avoided altercation. Wheeljack, Prowl, and Magnus all sighed as well, the latter commenting, "I must admit, I wasn't expecting so much...intensity from him."

"Huh, look at that, we actually agree on something," Wheeljack snarked, much to everyone else's exasperation.

"Either way, we should probably take our leave now. See if we can get the parts we need from this Shifter person," Elita stood from her seat, gesturing for Magnus to follow. Before they were out, she turned back to Wheeljack and said, "Hey Wheeljack!" getting the bot's attention, she tossed a second communicator to him, which he caught with ease. "Even if you'd rather go it alone, just know that an Autobot is never alone. If you find yourself in a bind, you can use that to contact us. We've already lost so many, and I'd rather we not lose anyone else."

"Whatever you say, Eli," Wheeljack dismissed as he put the communicator on the counter, clearly waiting for his next drink. Prowl, meanwhile, remained at the Wrecker's side, though for what reason, she didn't know. With one final sigh, she and Magnus left the building and re-entered the town's streets.

"That could've gone better," Elita commented, a tinge of disappointment to her voice.

"All things considered, it went better than expected," Magnus threw his two Shanix in, "Besides, we at least know where to get the supplies we need."

"Right, and I think I know what I can barter for the nav system," Elita looked to her friend, "What about you? Anything you're good with giving up to get the parts?"

"Perhaps," was where Magnus left it at as they followed Maccadam's coordinates.

Wheeljack took a sip of the Engex Maccadam handed him while the old bot cleaned the counter. Unlike the past mugs, he was taking this one a lot slower, wanting to figure something out. "So Prowl," he turned to the officer/Cyber-Ninja, "Curious why you ain't tagging along with them."

"Same reason as you," the Cyber-Ninja answered, "I work alone. Besides, unlike you, I have someone to find, and I don't need any distractions."

"Take it Eli and Chief don't know you're hunting old hooky?" Wheeljack asked.

"No, and I have no intention of doing informing them. Avenging Yoketron and the Cyber-Ninja Corps is my mission, not theirs," Prowl said, even voice hiding his rage. Overall, Wheeljack got where he was coming from. He knew that ever since Lockdown betrayed the Cyber-Ninjas and blew up their HQ, Prowl and the CNC's only other surviving member, Jazz, had been on the lookout for signs of him. In all honesty, reverse the situation, and Wheeljack would do the exact same thing. By the Pit, he'd gone on plenty vengeance quests whenever the Wreckers lost someone. At the same time though, he couldn't really say he got any satisfaction from them.

"Still, can't exactly say I see your logic," the Wrecker remarked, "If there's one thing I know about Lockdown, it's that he's one of the most dangerous fraggers out there. I've heard every rumor about the things he does to bots like us. Even I wouldn't want to take him on without some back-up."

"The logic is this: in the event I fail against Lockdown, only I will suffer the consequences. I won't drag others into it and put them at risk," Prowl retorted.

"In my experience, it's never the best idea to decide what's best for others. I've seen how it can lead them down a dark road," Maccadam interrupted, both bots turning to see he was cleaning one of the used mugs.

"I'm sure you got plenty of stories old timer," Wheeljack finished the last of his Engex and passed the mug on to Maccadam, "But this ain't your business."

"It may not be a rule, but I'd like to think anything troubling my patrons is my business, especially if it leads to them breaking my one actual rule," Maccadam said, tone losing much of its eccentricity.

"Regardless of what you have to say, I intend to hunt my quarry down. And I will do so alone," Prowl replied with a tone of finality.

"I'm not trying to stop you," Maccadam sighed as he put the cleaned out mug away, "Just don't think it's right to go at things alone either."

In response, Prowl asked, "And what would you know of that?"

Maccadam walked up to the bar and faced the two dead in the optic, his own taking on a somber glint. "Long time ago, I used to be part of a team," the bartender began, "There were thirteen of us, and no matter the odds, we always overcame everything we'd went up against."

"Sounds like the Wreckers, but with less death," Wheeljack half-joked, but his expression saddened as he remembered all the comrades he'd lost over the Vorns. Much to his own dismay, however, Maccadam's expression made it clear that the opposite was the case.

"But one day, a crisis emerged, and we went to face it," Maccadam described, "In the ensuing conflict, one of us rushed ahead to face it alone, hoping to spare the rest from potential danger. He believed that if he went at it alone, only he would suffer consequence if he failed."

Wheeljack looked to Prowl with wide optics. The former officer returned the look before focusing on Maccadam, asking, "What happened next?"

"He succeeded, but many died as a result of his actions. And...something inside him changed that day, as if the weight of what he did sent him down a dark road," Maccadam put the cleaning rag away, "As time went on, he kept pushing others, and us, away. Last we ever spoke, I looked him in the optics, and saw where his path would lead him..."

"I see..." Prowl said, looking down to the counter as the old bot went silent, unable to continue. Wheeljack couldn't figure out what to say, what with just how palpable the sorrow in the old bot's voice was. Even if it felt more related to Prowl's problems, he'd admit that there was something in the tale that just got to him. He didn't know how exactly to describe it, but he had an idea what he needed to do.

Besides, those two don't really know how to barter like I do, Wheeljack thought before looking to the former officer. "Prowl, you there?" Wheeljack asked, not getting any response as the Cyber-Ninja seemed too caught up in his own musings. Seeing that he was still figuring things out, Wheeljack tossed his owed Shanix to the counter and got up from his seat, "Thanks for the drinks, Maccadam, but I better get going. Got somewhere I need to be."

"Good luck," Maccadam's voice regained some of its cheer, "They're gonna need your Ion Displacer if they want those nav components."

Wheeljack snapped back, "How the Pit did you know abou-!?" before he shook it off and headed out to the Jackhammer, "You know what? Never mind. Just Maccadam being Maccadam." However, as he walked back to his ship, he wondered, But why won't Eli's gear make a good trade? Something wrong with it?

"Wait, you already have ten of these?" Elita asked the Lithone as he examined the blaster.

"Yeah," Shifter replied, handing it back before pressing a button on his desk. The wall behind him turned and revealed a series of varying weaponry, many of which were Cybertronian in origin. Looking back at the weapons, Shifter continued, "Let's just say I do a lot of trading with Junkions, and they have a knack for collecting all sorts of weapons they come across."

"Well, this complicates things," Magnus said, Elita nodding in agreement. While they had the Energon, they still needed the parts for the nav system, and she was sure attempting to barter her old Neutron Blaster would be enough to get them. After all, she'd had it since the start of the war, and it was still in working condition. Elita figured it's age and utility alone would make it a good trade. Sadly, that wasn't the case, as Shifter had them in bulk.

Shaking his head, Shifter said, "Look, I'd like to give you the nav parts. I really would, but I have to maintain a business and all that."

"It's fine, we understand," Elita replied.

"You don't seem like much of a warrior, so why do you have this many weapons?" Magnus asked.

Shifter smiled, "Oh I don't fight. But I try to enhance security defenses on the outskirts of town just in case someone unpleasant comes knocking at our door. With what those Decepticreeps spreading throughout the galaxy, we gotta keep on our toes."

"What's a toe?"

"It's part of organic anatomy," Elita answered her friend before turning back to Shifter, "Is there anything else we can trade?"

The Lithone scratched the top of his head, "Well, aside from weapons, I'm also in the bartering business for antiques, relics, and other rarities. Don't suppose you have anything like that?" Elita and Magnus shook their heads. Shifter returned to his ponderings before he snapped the fingers on his left servo, "Actually, if all you can really trade is weapons, maybe we can trade some ion weapons for the nav parts? Haven't really been able to find any."

"Why's that?"

Shifter looked down sadly at Elita's question, "Let's just say that some of those Decepticons came into town a long time ago. Folks here heard them boasting about 'their new empire' and they walked about like they owned the place," he slumped back in his seat, "They came into my shop and saw all the weapons I had stocked up. Said something about how they were now 'Decepticon property' and kicked me about before taking everything. They would've done worse, but the town was tougher than they thought. We forced them out, but they still made off with my whole collection. What you're seeing here's just what I've been able to rebuild."

"I'm sorry," Elita looked down, "No one should ever suffer their tyranny."

"It's fine. We're just lucky this place is small enough that it's barely a blip on their radar. That was pretty much the one time we had to deal with them," Shifter replied, "Look, you both seem like good bots, and I do want to help you guys out. So if you can trade just one ion weapon, it'll be worth any set of nav components I got stored up. That way you can optimize it to your liking. Sound good?"

Elita nodded, It would be better if we had any ion weapons of our own.

"How about an Ion Displacer?" at the sudden voice, Elita and Magnus looked and saw Wheeljack walking in from behind them. He walked up to the front desk and hefted the Gatling weapon onto it with a resounding thud. "I think this old beauty's worth one top tier nav system," Wheeljack said, "Don't you?"

"Hmm, let me take a look," Shifter inspected the weapon, eyes glowing as he scanned its internal mechanisms.

While that was going down, Elita pulled Wheeljack away from the desk, Magnus following suit, and asked, "Wheeljack, what are you doing?"

"Helping you two get the parts you need. What do you think I'm doing?"

"I believe the General is referring to why you're helping us," Magnus clarified.

"Magnus, I told you that..." she stopped and shook her head, "Never mind," Elita focused her attention on Wheeljack, "Does this mean you're coming with us?"

The Wrecker nodded, "Figured you guys might get into some trouble at some point, and I want a piece of that action."

Elita looked and saw Magnus nod despite his clear struggle not to groan, given all the splitting processor pains Wheeljack was likely going to cause him. She sent him a sympathetic look and held out her servo to him, "Welcome to the team, Wheeljack."

"Wouldn't call three a team exactly, but close enough, I guess," Wheeljack shook her servo with a grin of his own.

"I'll take it!" everyone turned to Shifter, who finished scanning the Ion Displacer, "You really kept this thing in great condition, didn't you?"

"What can I say? Weapons are a specialty of mine," Wheeljack shrugged, looking back to Elita and Magnus with a smug grin. Elita rolled her optics at his antics while Magnus grunted.

"In any case, take whatever nav components you need."

Elita and her friends smiled to each other before she walked up to Shifter and shook his servo, "Thank you. We'll put it to good use."

"Don't mention it," Shifter pulled a lever beneath the front desk, causing the weapons behind him to lower into the ground, a new room taking its place. The Lithone gestured for them to follow, and once inside, they saw a series of ship components all neatly organized. "So," he started, "What kind of nav system are you looking for?"

It took them about one megacycle to make the full repairs using the new components, and even less time to get Wheeljack's personal ship, the Jackhammer, aboard the Alpha-5. Soon enough, the ship and its three passengers were flying off, the moon long behind them.

"Wheeljack, why did you decide to join us?" Magnus asked, turning to the Wrecker from his co-pilot seat. The bot in question simply leaned against the doorframe of the ship's cockpit.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Like I said, I'm hoping to get a little action out of this," he answered, "Been bored on that moon for a while, so this seems like it'll be fun."

"Forgive me, Wheeljack, but I don't think that's right," Elita commented, keeping her focus on piloting, "It's up to your discretion to tell us though, so we won't pry," she briefly pointed a stern look to Magnus, "Right?"

"Understood," Magnus saluted before returning to his controls.

"Eh, it's no metal off my back what you know or not," Wheeljack answered, "But what I want to know is if we have any clue where we're going. We just flying around looking for trouble?"

"That's how thing's have gone thus far for us. Aside from that, we've also been trying to find other Autobots," Elita explained.

"Mission accomplished there," Wheeljack joked, prompting a chuckle from Elita. Before anything else could be said though, the console suddenly beeped, indicating a proximity alert outside the ship. From the looks on the Alpha-5's radar, something, another ship based on the flight pattern, was headed straight towards them. "Looks like we got some company," the Wrecker smirked, "I'll fire up the Jackhammer and see about blasting them to-"

"Hold it, soldier," Magnus commanded, pointing to the signal on the ship's main console, signifying they were being hailed. Magnus looked to Elita, who nodded and activated the ship's open frequency.

"This is Autobot Resistance vessel Alpha-5. Identify yourself."

"It's me, General," Prowl's voice sounded from the console, much to everyone's surprise. Not a Nano-klik later, the Cyber-Ninja's own ship appeared in front of them, "Is there room for one more?"

Recovering from her shock at the bot's sudden appearance, she smiled and answered, "Of course, welcome aboard."

In the span of a few cycles, Elita had slowed the ship down and opened the hatch beneath it, allowing Prowl to enter and park his ship next to the Jackhammer. Putting the ship in auto-pilot, the three of them headed down to meet with their fellow Autobot, who was already walking out of his own vessel when they arrived at the docking bay.

"Let me guess, Maccadam's old story got you thinking?" Wheeljack snarked, much to Prowl's exasperation.

"I...suppose you could say that."

"Take it that's why you decided to join us too?" Elita cheekily asked the Wrecker, who rubbed the back of his neck.

"Maybe," he answered.

"What story did he tell you?" Magnus questioned as he crossed his arms.

Wheeljack and Prowl looked to each other, then back to the Lieutenant as Prowl replied, "It's nothing important at the moment. But I will say that I still have my own mission. I simply believe that joining you is likely to better serve that mission."

"Still gotta be a prick about it, don't you?"

Prowl rolled his optics at Wheeljack and walked by, "So what exactly is our current destination?"

"At the moment we're-" was as far as Elita got before the ship's alarm went off, "Getting a distress beacon!"

All of them ran to the main cockpit where Elita sat, pressing a few keys and seeing that the ship was receiving a message on an open frequency. She answered it, and an accented voice sounded, "To any Autobots who can here this mess-BRRRZZZT-repeat, we are under attack!"

"Wait," Ultra Magnus whispered, "Is that...?"

"This is Aerialbot Commander Jetfire, can anyone read me!?" Jetfire shouted, blaster fire and static in the background, "We're aboard a Decepticon prison ship, and are currently flying through an asteroid field! We were able to free the other prisoners, but we don't know if we'll be able to esc-BRRRZZZT-if any Autobot ge-BRRRZZZT-trace it and-BRRRZZZT-we don't have lo-BRRRZZZT-" and suddenly, a crashing sound could be heard, followed by dead silence.

"Ultra Magnus, trace the signal," Elita ordered as she turned to the three Autobots, "Wheeljack, Prowl, strap in. We're going to rescue them."

"Yes ma'am!" Magnus saluted and began his task as the Wrecker and Cyber-Ninja took their seats. With a determined glint in her optics, Elita took to the Alpha-5's controls and, once the location was traced, powered up the engines. Next thing everyone knew, they were flying to the rescue at sub-light speed, the stars becoming a stream of lines behind them.

Chapter Text

"Ugh. W-What happened?"

The bot's processor ached as she picked herself up, taking more effort than she expected. Her optics opened and took in her surroundings; a dark, cramped enclosure whose only source of light was the crimson glow of the hard-light door. Am I...I'm in a prison cell? Now curious, she stood at full height and gave the barrier an experimental touch. Seeing that it didn't damage her servos, she pressed them to the barrier and looked down the hallway, gasping at the sight.

"By Primus," she muttered, seeing the dark purple hall lined with countless cells, all baring the same crimson barrier that hers did. Inside the ones she could see were fellow Camiens, some taller than her, others shorter, but all recognizable. Among those immediately visible, she could see Javelin, Hot Shot, Skystriker, and Firestar. Someone captured us, she mused, trying and failing to stifle her horror at her current predicament, But who could've- Her optics went wide as she remembered everything.

The warships that came from the sky, that bombarded the city. She remembered the screams as bots calling themselves Decepticons fired upon them. She remembered her and Chromia, her love, heading into the fray, blades and halberd at the ready to protect whomever they could. The last thing she recalled was being pinned to the ground, everything going black as something smashed into the back of her head.

"We lost," she muttered, "But that means..." a number of questions began to swarm around in her processor. What of her home? What of Caminus? Had these Decepticons conquered her world? Where were they taking them? Why did they invade in the first place? What of Chromia? Was she captured and aboard this ship like her? Was she still on Caminus? Was she...was she de-

"Got a lot of questions I take it?"

A gasp escaped her pipes as she turned, instinctively trying to draw her sabers, but nothing came up. "What?" she looked down at her servos, "My blades, where are-"

"Don't bother trying to bring any weapons out," came the older voice, clearly belonging to a mech, from the darkest corner of the cell, "They've installed Mode Locks onto the prisoners' backs. Can't transform, can't pull out any weapons. And that's assuming they didn't just take them from you before they chucked you in here."

"W-Who are you?" she asked, seeing the positively massive outline of her current cellmate. She didn't mean to sound so frightened, but she was alone, far from home with no idea if those she cared most for were even online. Not to mention weaponless, powerless, and trapped aboard a prison freighter with her cell occupied by someone whom she had no clue was either friend or foe. Silently, she hoped for friend.

The bot didn't immediately answer the question. Instead, he stood at full height and walked up to her, the glow of the barrier illuminating his white armor plating. Red lines ran along his chestplate and wings, which also had a prominent symbol of a Cybertronian face on them, one that stood in contrast to the more angular faces the Decepticons bore on their armor and ships. The smaller, intimidated bot had no clue what it meant, but before she could ask, the taller bot sighed, arms crossed as he shook his head, "Sorry. To be honest, I'd almost forgotten how my height could put bots off."

"I'm...sorry?" she wasn't sure what else to say.

"It's fine. Can't be helped. Looks like we're gonna be stuck here for a while, so we best get to know each other," the taller bot smiled and held a servo out, "Name's Jetfire."

She looked at the servo, then back up to Jetfire's kind, blue optics. Her initial fear slowly went down as she took the servo into hers and shook, introducing herself.

"Windblade."

Jetfire nodded, retracting his servo as he took a seat within the cell, "So, you want to start, or should I?"

"I'm still trying to process a few things," Windblade admitted, servo to her head as she sat next to Jetfire, "You alright with starting?" at his nod, she pointed to the symbol on his chest, "Think you could start by telling me what that symbol means? It's pretty different from the Decepticons'."

"Symbol of the Autobot Resistance," Jetfire explained, optics looking at her in confusion, "If you know what a Decepticon is, how do you not know about the Autobots?"

"Because they just invaded my world. I didn't know things like Decepticons or Autobots existed until-" she shook her head, "Primus, I don't even know how long I was out. All I can remember was their attack on Caminus and getting knocked out."

"Wait a minute. Did you just say Caminus? As in, the lost Cybertronian colony of Caminus?"

"I wouldn't exactly call us 'lost'," Windblade rested her chin to her kneecaps as she stared to the floor, since if anything, lost described them far too well. It was true that Caminus had lost contact with Cybertron eons ago, with Windblade having read about the event in her history lessons.

It was said that in ancient times, the first of the Primes, Prima, called for the aid of all their world's Cityspeakers to stop a great calamity. However, not long after their departure for Cybertron, all forms of contact with the entire planet just vanish, with the general pervading belief being that the calamity Prima spoke of was the cause. Making matters more troublesome was that their world's namesake Titan was slumbering at the time, no one left to awaken him since the Cityspeakers left. And over hundreds of thousands of Vorns, the art of Cityspeaking would find itself lost to the annuls of history, no one left to pass it down to the scarce few who had such potential. At least, that's what her lessons taught.

A lost Titan, a lost art, a lost contact, and a lost home. That word might as well have been synonymous with Caminus.

"Shannix for your thoughts?" Jetfire asked, interrupting her musings.

"I-It's nothing. Just..." Windblade sighed, wanting to keep her mind of troubling topics, "You're from Cybertron, yes?" Jetfire nodded, prompting her next question, "What's it like?"

"Not well I'm afraid," Jetfire solemnly replied, gesturing to their cell, "I guess you could say our current predicament's part of that. Cybertron's at war with itself."

At war? Windblade wondered, seeing the haunted look in Jetfire's optics, "You mean between the Autobot Resistance and the Decepticons?"

Jetfire sighed, "Yeah. Weren't always a resistance movement, but these Solar Cycles, Autobots are spread thin and scattered. The Decepticon Empire rules our home planet, and now they're spreading out across the galaxy, conquering whatever stands in their way."

"But why?" Windblade asked, "Why would they do this? What are they hoping to gain from taking over Caminus? From conquering worlds? From bringing death and ruin to so many?"

The more questions she asked, the more her voice wavered. She just couldn't fathom it. During their assault, the Decepticons displayed a ruthlessness and brutality she'd never seen before. The innocent were slaughtered like animals, and many of the opponents she cut down were smiling, as if they enjoyed the cruelty they inflicted. How could anyone be so monstrous, so uncaring to life itself?

"That's just it, Windblade. They do this because they can," Jetfire answered, a haunted look in his optics.

"Spoken like a true traitor."

Huh? Windblade looked to the cell barrier for the source of the new voice, seeing one of the guards looking down at them. More specifically, he was glaring at Jetfire. The Decepticon in question had black and red armor plating, matching Windblade in height, with his optics hidden behind a yellow visor.

"Better a traitor than a planet-razing monster," Jetfire sneered back.

"Won't be saying that for long," the guard, whom Windblade mentally called Tweedledum, gained an almost mocking smile, "This ship's gonna be making a stop near planet Messatine before we head back for Cybertron." Windblade saw Jetfire freeze, seeming completely terrified as Tweedledum continued, "You're next on the DJD's list. From what I hear, Tarn's got a lot of ideas on what he wants to do to you. Shame the rest of us won't be able to watch."

Tweedledum laughed and walked away, not so much as given Windblade a chance to demand answers from him. She looked to Jetfire and saw he was still petrified. "What was he talking about?" Windblade asked, an array of questions forming in her processor.

"The Decepticon Justice Division," Jetfire's voice was almost hollow, as if bracing for the inevitable, "Enforcers of Megatron's will. Their goal is to find any and all who abandon the Decepticons and kill them in the most gruesome manner imaginable."

"...so," Windblade began after a moment of silence, "You were one of them?" at his nod, the Camien tried to process that fact. Even if Jetfire was a former Decepticon, his entire being just seemed so far removed from the others. They were cruel, sparkless monsters without a shred of empathy, given their ruthless assault on her home, as well as the description of the DJD. Jetfire, however, seemed kind and empathetic, with not a shred of deception to be found. It was impossible for her to imagine him having ever been one of them. With all that running through her processor, she managed to ask, "Why were you a Decepticon?"

"Guess you could say I was a Decepticon before there even were Decepticons," at Windblade's confusion, Jetfire clarified, "What I mean is that the Decepticons didn't start out as monsters," he smiled in remembrance as he stared at the wall, looking past it and into the distance, "In the beginning, we were a social movement, one aimed at bringing change to the caste system that ran Cybertron," his smile fell, a somberness overtaking his optics, "But things grew more turbulent over the movement's life cycle. We started losing sight of our original goal, changing from seekers of equal rights for all to monsters who just wanted an excuse to break everything they hated," he looked down at Windblade with bitterness and regret, clearly trying to stave off the dark memories, "And when they'd broken everything on Cybertron, they went looking for new victims to satisfy themselves."

"H-How many...how many worlds?"

"I don't know," Jetfire reluctantly admitted as he and Windblade fell into another silence, this one more uncomfortable than the last. "Your home planet," Jetfire regained his voice, drawing Windblade's attention, "Caminus, I mean. I'm sorry for what happened to it."

"It's fine, you're not at fault for the Decepticons' actions," Windblade clutched at her kneecaps, "What do we do now?"

Jetfire looked around their cell before standing, holding out a servo to help her up, "I'd like to escape this place. Don't know if it'll work, but I gotta try. You?"

Windblade's face mirrored the determined expression Jetfire had as she nodded, "Yeah. Any ideas?"

Jetfire hummed and started feeling around the walls, "Should be a panel here. I can rewire a circuit to short out the cell barrier," looking back at Windblade, he asked, "Think you could help me find one?" The Camien began helping the Autobot as they searched the cell walls, removing whatever panels were loose enough. Despite their efforts, however, they found no circuitry to work with, and if there was any, it was likely behind what was too reinforced to breach. "Blast!" Jetfire punched a wall, an echo reverberating throughout the hallway.

"Hey! Keep it down over there!" one of the guards, a femme from the sound of it, shouted. A series of stomps made their way towards the cell, the guard entering the prisoners' field of view. Windblade noted a few similarities in appearance between this guard and Tweedledum, but her armor was black and purple with more prominent chest plating. The guard's exposed yellow optics glared at them with scorn.

Must be related with the last guy, Windblade mused, mentally calling this one "Tweedledee".

Tweedledee looked around the inside of their cell, seeing the removed floor and wall panels before chuckling, "You worthless pieces of scrap metal getting ideas? Don't bother. Nothing in these walls for you to mess around with."

"Guards! Help!" a Camien in a faraway cell, several to the right from the sound of it, shouted, "M-My friend, he's fallen to the floor! I don't know what's-"

"OH SHUT UP!" Tweedledee yelled back, "You think we don't have that trick back on Cybertron!?"

"B-But he's really-"

"How about I go over there and blast the fragger's Spark out!? Can't be 'sick' if he's dead!"

"...never mind."

"That's what I thought," the guard returned her focus to Windblade and Jetfire, "Like I said, don't even try."

Alright. New approach then, Windblade steeled herself and walked up to the cell, glaring into the Decepticon's optics, "You sound so confident when you talk to those who can't fight back."

"And?"

"I wonder if you'd be so bold if you were in here with us," Windblade sneered.

"Tch, think I'm dumb enough to try that?"

"Don't bother, Windblade," Jetfire put a servo to her shoulder, "You're talking to a proud Decepticon. All bark and no bite. She won't try to prove you wrong because she's too much of a coward."

"Who you calling a coward?" Tweedledee growled.

"Considering how I didn't see you when the Decepticons attacked my home, I'd say you are," Windblade smirked, "Bet you didn't even get off the ship until after the battle was won."

"I...I was there you little-!"

"Really now?" Windblade yelled out, "Hey! Any of you see this bot on the battlefield during the attack?" a chorus of negative answers followed. Windblade smugly looked at the increasingly angry Decepticon, "I rest my case."

"THAT'S IT! YOU WANT TO GO AT IT!?" Tweedledee snapped and reached for the cell's keypad, only for a sudden servo to reach out and stop her. Windblade and Jetfire saw that it was Tweedledum.

"What do you think you're doing, sister?" he angrily asked.

"What in the Pit do you think I'm doing, bro? I'm gonna teach this...oh. OH!" Tweedledee chuckled and pointed at Windblade, "Clever. Very clever. Almost got me."

"Wouldn't have worked anyway. Those Mode Locks implanted on you have a 50,000 klik radius and would've shocked you into submission if you did escape," Tweedledum added, pressing a hand against the barrier as he leaned forward, glaring at the prisoners, "Megatron wants you lost, backwater colony pieces of scrap on Cybertron. Don't know why though. Personally, I think you all would serve a better purpose doing labor on your former planet." Windblade bit her anger back at his insults while he turned his attention to Jetfire, "And the DJD's getting their quarry. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. So do us all a favor and wait here to die, traitorous trash."

The two Tweedle guards left, unlikely to come back. With Jetfire and Windblade alone, the latter sighed and banged her head against the nearest wall. "Sorry," she said, "I thought that would work."

Jetfire leaned against another wall and gave her an apologetic glance, "Don't be. It was a good idea. Would've worked had the guard not seen through it."

"What do we do now?"

In response, Jetfire looked upward, staring at something on the ceiling. Windblade followed his gaze and saw the ventilation shafts. "That's one way out, but neither of us'll be able to fit in those. If we were Mini-Cons, maybe we could," Jetfire said, "And even then, we'd have to find a way to bypass the Mode Locks."

"You said they're on our backs, right?" Windblade's question was met with the taller bot turning, revealing a small, circular disk implanted on his back. "Hmm," Windblade gave it a good look, "Any chance we could just smash these things?"

"Tried that, didn't work," he answered.

"Scrap."

"I hear ya," Jetfire faced her, "Odds are there's a terminal somewhere on this ship connected to the Mode Locks. But we're not in a position to reach it, so that option's off the ta-"

"ZZZZTT!" came the sudden noise from above, prompting both bots to look up and see the ventilation duct emit a yellow glow at the edge before a plasma blade cut through it, slicing its borders. Within seconds, the entrance was pulled back, revealing a small bot, a Mini-Con to be exact, with orange plating around the chest, head, and servos, which bore three digits each. He looked down at them with worried blue optics that quickly grew warm.

"Option's no-no-not off the table anym-or-or-ore," the Mini-Con said with a grin, his voice glitching out.

"Fixit!" Jetfire whispered as loud as he dared, "What are you doing here? I thought you got away."

"Came back to re-re-rescue you."

"Wait, who is he?" Windblade asked.

"The name's Fixit!" the bot introduced himself.

"He's an Autobot medic and maintenance specialist," Jetfire explained before looking back at the bot in question, "Look, I appreciate the help, but you shouldn't have come back. They're taking me to the DJD. Last thing I want is for you or anyone to get caught up with those butchers."

"All the more reason for me to be here," Fixit retorted, "You got ca-ca-captured rescuing me. Now I'm going to retur-tur-tur-turn the favor. Just sit tight, I'll find the terminal and have everyone-one out in a jiff."

Before Jetfire could say another word, Fixit was already gone, moving down the vents. Now curious what the smaller bot meant, Windblade asked, "So that's how you were captured?"

Jetfire nodded, "Yeah. I was on the outskirts of a Decepticon outpost that I planned to raid for intel, but then I saw them hauling Fixit in as a prisoner. Plan changed and I fought my way in to bust him out. Ended up getting caught to help him get away, and here we are," he gave Windblade a look, "When I got tossed in here, you were already on the floor in stasis. Wasn't sure whether or not to wake you."

"Personally, I'm glad you didn't. I might have ended up attacking you by accident," Windblade said before looking up at the vent, "He seems nice."

"He's a good friend. Just wish he wasn't risking his Spark for mine."

Windblade hummed and sat down, seeing no other option but to wait for Fixit. As Jetfire sat down next to her, she asked, "You think he'll pull through?"

Jetfire seemed unsure, but answered, "Fixit's one of the best bots I know when it comes to mechanical work. We were partners for a number of lab experiments during the war on Cybertron. If anyone can hack into this ship and free us, it's him," his gaze grew deathly serious, "He has to."

Fixit made his way through the ventilation system, searching for the terminal prisoner Mode Locks were connected to. Thankfully, he had the foresight to sneak around when he first got aboard and download a map of the vessel interior. It was how he found the detention levels where Jetfire was, after all. Only reason he didn't make immediate contact when he got there was because of those two guards on watch.

Better find a way to free the others too, Fixit thought, having no desire to leave any of those bots locked up down there. An Autobot's duty was to help those in need, and he'd be damned if he left everyone to suffer the Empire's tyranny.

On his way to the detention level terminal, he passed above a recreation room where he overheard a pair of Decepticon troopers drinking oil and discussing something about races on Velocitron. Apparently, Knock Out won the recent Benefit 500 and was able to win a vacation with his Conjunx Endura, Breakdown. Fixit stayed for a few cycles longer to see if he could scrounge up any intel from them. The Cons, however, only talked about superfluous things like game scores and concerts, none of which was really noteworthy. The Mini-Con was about to continue on his way, but then he overheard something that made his audio receptors twitch.

"What do think the boss meant?"

"What do you mean?"

"When Commander Strika sent us off, she said something about how the prisoners would help Lord Megatron 'wake the Titans'. Any clue what that means?"

Titans? Fixit wondered. He'd read stories about them, how they were rumored to sleep across the stars, but he dismissed it as little more than a myth. Not to say that myths didn't have uses, given how the legends of those giants were the basis for Project: Omega back in the middle of the war, even if that ended in disaster.

"Can't say I do," the Con answered, "Either way, we should check in with the bridge. See if we're on course."

"Yeah, I hear you. Hope handing the traitor off goes by fast. Those fraggers give me the creeps."

Better get moving, Fixit headed down the ventilation shafts, moving left, right, up, and down through a complex maze of tunnels, unseen by any Decepticons. You'd think they'd bother to install cameras or security drones in the vents, Fixit smirked as he neared the room with the detention level's terminal. As always, the Decepticons' arrogance bit them in the aft. Mini-Cons like himself were always looked down upon both figuratively and literally, but that just made it easier for him to get by unnoticed (except for earlier at the outpost, but that was beside the point).

"He-he-here we go-go," Fixit looked into the room and saw that there was only one guard at the terminal. From the looks of it, he was monitoring the cameras in the detention level's hallways as well the statuses of the prisoners' Mode Locks. Fixit shifted his arm to a plasma cutter and sliced through the duct, placing the grille behind him as he shot a grapnel and lowered himself into the room. As quietly as possible, he rolled up to the unaware Decepticon, nearing the bot's leg and shifting his arm into its taser form.

"ARGH!" The Decepticon cried out as Fixit drove his taser into the leg. Electricity coursed throughout the bigger bot's body as he slumped to his knees. His actual target now easy to reach, Fixit rolled up to the front of the Con and delivered another taser strike to his head, shocking him until he was out like a light.

"Let's see here," Fixit hoisted himself up to the terminal controls, checking the cameras to see the prisoners, all either looking tired, angry, terrified, or solemn. Among them, he saw Jetfire and Windblade from outside their cell, the latter pacing around while the former sat patiently. "Hang o-o-o-on everyone," Fixit plugged himself into the terminal, "I'll have you all out in a Nanokli-kli-kli-klik."

Jetfire sat on the floor of his cell, outwardly calm, but frantic and worried on the inside. Tapping a finger on his kneecap, he looked over to Windblade, who paced about the cell with a concerned expression. "You alright, Windblade?" Jetfire asked.

"Yes," Windblade tried to perk up, but slumped, "No. And you?"

"Honestly, you look how I feel at the moment."

"Sorry."

"Can't say I blame you," Jetfire looked back up at where Fixit left, "This is always the most stressful part of these kinds of things."

"How will we know if he succeeded?" Windblade asked.

"Well," Jetfire looked to the hardlight barrier, "If we hear an alarm, we'll know he was caught. But if the barrier shorts out, we'll know-"

The barrier chose then to short out, as did the ones for the cells in front of theirs.

"-he was successful."

"What the frag!" the guard from before could be heard down the hall, "How in the Pit did-"

His sister yelled, "Everyone back in their ce-ARGH!"

Jetfire and Windblade stepped out to see two Camiens holding the guards down. Both Decepticons angrily struggled until their captors punched them in the back of their heads before throwing them in the nearest cell. As their unconscious bodies slumped to the floor, the cell's hardlight barrier re-activated. To top it off, Jetfire felt a tinge of electricity on his back, followed by the sound of a small piece of metal plopping to the floor. He looked down and saw that it was his Mode Lock.

"Thanks Fixit," he said as he looked to Windblade, seeing sparks arc harmlessly on her back as the Mode Lock fell to the floor. The sound could be heard several times over from within the cells as the prisoners poured out. Windblade went to check on her fellow Camiens while Jetfire headed for the detention level exit. The door automatically opened, letting the Aerialbot poke his head down the hall, looking left and right to see no Decepticons either way, at least until he saw the shadow of one around the corner.

Scrap, Jetfire headed back inside and met with Windblade, who was comforting a grieving Camien, hers and the youngling's friends surrounding them with sympathetic looks. A few of those further back were embracing each other with shaking shoulders, the loss of their world weighing heavy upon them. Some looked wrathful, while others were more solemn. Jetfire did what he could, gently placing a hand to the young bot's shoulder to reassure her, Windblade sending him a thankful glance. He would've said things were going to be okay now, but that would've been a lie, given their current circumstances. Reluctantly, he broke the respite and said, "We've got to get out of here."

"How?" Windblade asked as both she and the bot in her arms looked to him. Many other Camiens did the same.

"Do any of you have your weapons?" Jetfire asked. Windblade stood and tried to bring forth her blades, but nothing came out. The other Camiens tried to pull out weapons as well, but they too found themselves unarmed. Looks like the Cons were smart enough to disarm them. I know they took my saber, and it looks like I don't have my photon rifle anymore, Jetfire's face grew inquisitive, Though some of my weapons were built right into me, I wonder if... he looked to his right arm and focused, shifting it into plasma cannon form. With a smile, he headed over to the cell the two guards were chucked in and pressed the keypad, opening it and checking their unconscious bodies for any weaponry.

"What are you doing?" one of the Camiens asked, to which Jetfire pulled out a pair of laser rifles before exiting and reactivating the barrier.

"Here," Jetfire held out the guns, "The best shots here can take these." Instead of taking them, all the Camiens looked amongst themselves in a mix of confusion and awkwardness, "Something wrong?"

"Jetfire," Windblade stepped forward, "None of us have ever wielded a firearm before. Our people consider them wasteful, so we're only good with close-quarters combat."

Jetfire's optics went wide for a moment, "Oh," he shrugged, "Well, perfect time to learn, I suppose."

Windblade was the first to step forward, taking one of the rifles. The second ended up going to the bot she'd been comforting earlier, looking scared, but determined. "Please tell me you have a plan to get everyone out of here?" Windblade asked while trying to get a feel for the new weapon.

"Not much of one, but better than nothing," Jetfire explained, "First thing we'll have to do is capture a Decepticon and interrogate them. Get them to give us a layout of the ship. Then we make our way to where they're holding everyone's weapons. Odds aren't exactly in our favor for sneaking out, so we'll need to be ready for a fight."

"Makes sense," Windblade and a few Camiens nodded, "Then what?"

"Then we move for the escape pods, split off from there so that if they give chase, we'll have less to deal with. Wherever we end up, we'll need to keep our heads low," Jetfire concluded, "Any questions?"

"Not much of a plan," one of the taller, more grizzled mechs muttered.

"Believe me, I know," Jetfire pinched the space between his optics, "But it's the best I could come up with at the moment. Wish I had more time."

"H-How..." the bot Windblade comforted earlier found her voice, "How are we going to capture a Decepticon?"

Jetfire shook his head, "Still working on that."

"Maybe one of us could sneak out and bring a soldier back here?" Windblade suggested.

"Risky though," another Camien, this one an elderly looking femme, interjected, "If you get caught, the whole ship will start swarming us."

"Another possibility could be we wait here until a patrol officer comes in, then we grab him, interrogate him, and toss him in a cell," Jetfire scratched his chin, "Problem there is the odds of that happening are-"

"What in the name of Primus!?" the sudden voice came in from the entrance, all of them turning to see a patrol officer staring agape at the scene.

"Very high, apparently," Jetfire took aim with his plasma cannon, the Con doing the same before Windblade pointed her rifle at him too. Having more firepower directed at him, combined with Jetfire looming over the now terrified bot, led to him holding his hands up in surrender. Jetfire grabbed the bot and hoisted him up, dragging him into the center of the group before throwing the hapless Decepticon to the floor.

"What do you want!?" the terrified guard asked.

"Tell us where you stored our weapons!" Windblade kept her gun pointed at the Con's chest.

"W-What?"

"Here's what we need from you," Jetfire kneeled down next him, "You're a patrol officer, so we know you have a layout of the ship. Give it to us and we'll toss you in one of these cells. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I-I won't do it!" the officer stammered, "Do you have any idea what my superiors would do to me if I did!? Besides, you colony lowlifes won't get off this ship alive! You'll die just like those on your worthless world did!"

Jetfire glared and began charging his plasma cannon up just enough to scare the Con. From the corner of his optic, he could see Windblade almost growl before she calmed herself. The rest of the Camiens looked somewhere between angry and ready to pummel the officer to death. "Look," Windblade began, tone low and dangerous, "You're outnumbered and outmatched, so just do the right thing and give us what we need."

The officer snarled, looking ready to spit out another insult before a sudden shot rang throughout the room. Smoke emitted from the floor just behind the Decepticon's head, a laser shot having grazed its side. Everyone followed where the shot came from, shocked to see the young bot aiming her rifle at the Con, who looked ready to scream had his attacker not shoved the barrel into his chest.

"Y-You piece of scra-!"

"Shut up y-you monster!" the youngling all but screamed at him, her servos shaking and eyes tearing up with coolant, "Y-You Decepticons attacked our planet, destroyed o-our homes, k-killed our loved ones, and you act like n-nothing happened! You act like it's something to be proud of!"

"Lightbright," Windblade nervously coaxed, "You need to calm dow-"

"MY FAMILY IS GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!" Lightbright shrieked and heaved at the Con, completely ignoring Windblade.

"Kid, stop! Don't shoot!" Jetfire held his servos out but didn't make a move to take the gun. In his experience, that always led to the younger bots doing something rash.

"H-Here!" the officer tossed a small, circular device to the ground; a holo-map of the ship's interior. Jetfire took it as the officer stammered, "There, y-you have what you wanted! J-Just send me to my cell and-"

"No! Shut up!" Lightbright's finger twitched, clearly torn between whether or not to pull the trigger.

Windblade gently placed a servo on Lightbright's shoulder, "I understand your anger. I think all of us do," she looked around at her fellow Camiens, who were still in shock at the youngling's outburst, "But you shouldn't let these monsters drag you down to their level."

"He needs to die!" Lightbright glared at Windblade, "I...they need die! They...they're..." her shoulders slumped as coolant dripped down her cheeks, "They're never coming back, are they?"

"No, they're not. I'm sorry," Jetfire shook his head as Lightbright stepped away from the officer, letting Jetfire and another Camien, a femme with aquamarine and red armor, hoist him up and toss him into a cell, activating the barrier to lock him inside. As the Con fearfully sat in a corner, Jetfire looked to the femme and said, "Thanks for the help, miss...?

"Call me Pyra," she replied.

"Thanks Pyra," Jetfire nodded and looked over to Lightbright, who was being looked after by Windblade and two others: a femme with purple armor and a single eye, and a mech with yellow plating around the arms limbs and red at the torso.

"Don't worry. We'll look after her," Pyra said before they headed back to the group. The Camien looked to her purple and yellow colleagues and called out, "Javelin, Hot Shot, you two are with me."

Jetfire saw the laser rifle on the ground and picked it up, "Pyra, since you seem to know what you're doing, think you can manage this?" he held the gun out to her.

Pyra took it and held it at the ready before glancing down at Lightbright, "Stay close, young one. We won't allow any more of us to die today."

The youngling finished wiping her tears away and huddled close to the group. Jetfire, meanwhile, pulled out the holo-map and searched for the fastest route to the weapons vault. After a few Nanokliks of plotting out the best course, Windblade walked up to him with a questioning look. "You and I will guard the front," Jetfire said loud enough to gather everyone's attention, "Pyra and her group will guard the rear. Cover all our bases until we get everyone armed. Then we'll meet up with Fixit and make a break for the escape pods."

"I'm guessing sneaking about isn't an option," Windblade said.

"No, not with a group this large. Best we can manage is to weather the storm fast enough to get to shelter," Jetfire answered.

"You're the one with the map," Pyra stepped forward, "And of everyone here, you know the Decepticons the best. We'll follow your lead for now."

Jetfire nodded and made his way for the door alongside Windblade, everyone else following behind. Not long after they entered the halls, they ran into a pair of soldiers, who backed up at the sight before shifting their arms to blaster form and taking aim.

"They've escaped!" one of the troops shouted before Jetfire filled his chest with plasma. The second fired, landing a shot at Jetfire's chest. The Aerialbot withstood it, despite the pain, while Windblade opened fire. Her first four shots were way off, but her fifth shot went straight for the Con's blaster, disorienting him enough for Jetfire to run forward and punch him to the ground. Thinking quick, he searched the downed troops for any spare firearms and handed them to a couple Camiens.

No way that went unnoticed, and as if like clockwork, the alarms went off. "Everyone, get ready!" Jetfire shouted as the next several cycles filled with running and blaster fire.

Windblade grunted as the group rounded the corner of the last hallway, running just behind Jetfire, but ahead of her fellow Camiens. Just ahead was the weapons vault at the end of the hallway, but blocked by another armed patrol of Decepticons troops, this time with one massive, heavily armored trooper wielding an Energon hammer. As the armed Camiens took aim and began a fire fight with the standard grunts, Jetfire charged the heavy soldier, firing plasma blasts that managed to halt him. The Autobot reached the large troop and delivered a series of punches to his helm. However, the heavy soldier withstood the strikes and caught Jetfire's fist, delivering a hammer swing straight to his chest. The act sent Jetfire flying back right towards Windblade and Pyra.

"Scrap!" Windblade and Pyra were able to catch the Autobot with some effort before placing him down, hearing him groan in pain. With a glare to the Decepticons, Windblade opened fire on the heavy troop, thankful that his enormous frame meant all her shots hit him. Sadly, they didn't have the same effect as Jetfire's plasma cannon, as the Con ignored her attacks like they were a gust of wind. Pyra joined in, but both their rifles combined still didn't manage any progress.

Making matters worse, both rifles ceased fire with a spark dropping click.

"No! Not now!" Pyra tossed the weapon right at the troop's face, which did nothing. Windblade did the same towards his chest, proving equally ineffective.

"How are we supposed to get passed that armor!?" Windblade shouted in fear and frustration, jumping up and delivering a spin kick to the Con's head.

"You can't, little bot," the Con's deep, gravelly voice shook Windblade as she found herself grabbed by the leg and slammed into the ground. The world became a blur as she was smashed about over and over, smacking into a charging Pyra to knock her away, before getting smashed into the floor again. For the briefest moment, she saw her fellow Camiens continue their fire fight with the remaining Decepticon troops, losing ground despite their best efforts. The moment ended, and her world became pain once more, followed by her getting thrown into a far-off wall.

"N-Not gonna..." Windblade croaked, "Have...to..." even through her blurry vision, she could see Pyra attempt to fight the armored trooper up close, rushing him and grabbing his waist in an effort to force him back. Windblade closed her optics, the pain overwhelming. They were so close, the weapons vault right in front of them. They'd fought their way through every Decepticon thus far but were on the verge of death right as they reached their first goal. They were right there! Things couldn't end like this! "HRRK!" Windblade felt herself spit up Energon as Pyra's body was thrown at her chest.

"I'm...sorry..." Pyra muttered as the Decepticon made his way to them. From the corner of Windblade's optics, she could see the unarmed Camiens hiding just behind the corner they came from. She tried to move her servos, motioning for them to run and save themselves, but she couldn't do that with Pyra's weight on her.

"Any last words?" the Con smiled sadistically. Windblade refused to give him the satisfaction, glaring defiantly as he brought his hammer overhead.

Chromia, Windblade's gaze softened slightly, a tinge of fear re-entering her optics as she braced herself for the end, Goodbye.

But before the Con could swing, a sudden plasma shot hit him from behind, smoke, sparks, and circuitry coming out from where his neck met his shoulder. Windblade and Pyra looked to the source, seeing a barely conscious Jetfire, whose plasma cannon was being held by Lightbright.

The young bot glared fearfully at the armored Decepticon and yelled, "S-Stay away from them!"

"You little-!" the Con turned away from Windblade and Pyra, his arm shifting into a massive cannon aimed right at Lightbright and Jetfire. Windblade tried to get up, and she felt Pyra do the same, but before they could manage, sparks lit up from the ceiling. The Decepticon noticed it too, looking up just in time for the panel to fall right on his face, distracting him enough for Fixit to jump out of the vent. "Get off me you piece of scrap!" was all the Con could scream, as Fixit's arm became a taser that he jammed into the large bot's exposed circuitry. His entire body went haywire, cannon arm swinging everywhere like mad before he randomly opened fire in an effort to get the Mini-Con off.

"ARGH!" came the cries of his fellow Decepticons, all of them caught in the explosions of his cannon fire. One final cannon blast hit the weapons vault door at its center, blowing it off the hinges. Fixit ceased shocking the Con's weakpoint before jumping in front of his face. The still dazed Decepticon only had time to widen his optics as Fixit's arm transformed into a rocket launcher, which he then shoved into the larger bot's mouth.

Windblade's audio receptors almost burst at the sudden, nearby explosion, which sent Fixit flying back and rolling on the floor. Thankfully, his injuries were minor as he picked himself up and rolled back, stopping at Jetfire first to gauge his injuries. Windblade and Pyra managed to fully stand and make their way past the headless Decepticon corpse to the injured Autobot.

"Hey Fix," Jetfire coughed as he barely managed to pick himself up, "Took you long enough."

"Sorry I'm la-a-a-ate," Fixit apologized, "I would have been-been-been here sooner, but the ventilation end-end-ended up being a bi-bi-bigger maze than I thought."

"Heh, better late than never, I suppose," Jetfire slumped, Windblade and Pyra catching him while Lightbright and Fixit worriedly hovered nearby.

"C-Can you heal him?" Lightbright asked.

Fixit nodded, "Gonna need some space tho-o-o-o-ough."

"You can repair him when we're inside the vault," Pyra recommended, "I think a number of us need repairs."

"I can see tha-a-a-a-at. Just let me tend to Jetfire and I'll-I'll-I'll get to everyone else quickly," Fixit said everyone entered the vault, Windblade and Pyra placing Jetfire down so the Mini-Con could get to work. Once that was done, Windblade, Pyra, and several Camiens started looking around for their weapons.

"Aha!" Windblade cheered, finding her twin sabers hanging on a wall amidst other blades. She took them down and gave a few experimental swings before practicing the movements of a form or two. She smiled, glad to have her weapons back. It was almost like she'd been missing a vital part of herself without even realizing it.

With that done, she retracted them back into her arms, briefly wincing as her prior injuries were starting to catch up. Making her way back to Jetfire, she looked around and saw the others gather their weapons; Pyra took a pick-axe while Lightbright was given an Energon shield to defend herself. Hot Shot and Javelin, meanwhile, went for more unorthodox weapons in the form of dual arm-mounted plasma blasters and a sniper rifle respectively. Even Firestar and Skystriker took up blasters of their own.

"Hey, Windblade," Jetfire drew her attention. She looked and saw that, outwardly, he seemed much better as he remained seated while Fixit did work on his upper torso.

"Glad to see you're all better," Windblade said with a wince, the pain cropping back up.

"Not entirely-y-y," Fixit responded, jumping down, "I repaired much of the out-out-outward damage, but the internals will-will-will need better equipment," he gave Jetfire an admonishing look, "Try not-not-not to take too much da-da-damage until we get out of he-he-here."

"You know I can't promise that," Jetfire sighed, rubbing the back of his helm. Windblade looked away guiltily, recalling how in every single fight they'd gotten into on the way here, Jetfire tended to throw himself in front of as much enemy fire as possible in an effort to protect the unarmed Camiens. Even with those armed, he still did so, with him having gotten in the way of a plasma blast that would've hit Windblade. That last one in particular did a massive number on him, and it amazed the Camien that Jetfire could still fight even after that. She just wished he didn't constantly take those hits.

Then again, reverse their positions, she'd probably do the same.

"Windbla-bla-blade," Fixit rolled up to her, "Let-Let me see your in-injuries. I'll try to-to patch up as ma-many as I can."

"Alright," Windblade sat down while Jetfire stood and went deeper into the armory. As Fixit began his work, she asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure-Sure."

"What happened to your voice?" at the question, Fixit ceased his repairs and froze, as if remembering some terrible event. Fearing she offended, Windblade apologized, "Sorry! I-you don't have to answer."

Fixit shook his head, briefly flashing Windblade a reassuring, but sad smile, and continuing with his repairs, "It's fine, you were-weren't aware. Just kno-know that it-it happened in-in-in an accid-cid-cident."

"I see."

"I'd also-so appreciate-ate it if you did-didn't ask-ask-ask again. Sore subje-je-ject. In any-any-any case, all finished," Fixit jumped off, allowing Windblade to inspect her chassis. Sure enough, she looked good as new. "Now," Fixit began, "There's still some internal-nal-nal damage I want to look at later, but we be-better get out of-of-of-of here first."

Windblade nodded as loud steps approached. She looked to the source, seeing Pyra walk up to them, the rest of the Camiens behind her, all of them fully armed. "Glad to see you've recovered, Windblade," Pyra smiled as she held out her servo, Windblade smiling back and taking it to stand. As soon as Windblade stood, Pyra knelt down to better meet Fixit's optics and asked, "Any chance you could look after those behind me? The last battle saw some of us taking quite a few hits, I'm afraid."

"I'll see what I can d-d-d-d-o," Fixit nodded and rolled over to the Camiens behind Pyra, "Alright ev-everyone-one-one, form a line from mo-most injur-jur-jured to least."

As Fixit began his work, Windblade asked, "What about you, Pyra?"

"I'll live for now," Pyra dismissed, despite all the dents and scrapes that covered her stating otherwise, "Besides, the others matter more," she looked over to them as Fixit's repairs were underway, "I failed them, my team, and our entire world once. I won't do it again."

"When you say your team, you mean the Torchbearers, right?" Windblade asked, "The color scheme gives it away." Pyra nodded, looking away somberly, likely thinking about her missing teammates. Windblade had seen all the Camien prisoners aboard this ship, and Pyra was the only Torchbearer aboard. Wanting to ease Pyra's worries, Windblade said, "If it means anything, I'm sure your teammates are alright. You're all the best of Caminus' defenders, after all," she let out a shy chuckle as she rubbed the back of her neck, "You know, growing up, I always loved to hear the stories of the Torchbearers' exploits. How they'd fight evil and right wrongs. Back then, whenever Chromia and I had spare time, we'd pretend we were members of your team, spouting off lines you said in battle."

"Oh please tell me you didn't say-"

"By Solus' hammer, I smite at thee!" Windblade mimed a hammer swing with a laugh, hoping to help cheer the Torchbearer up. While Pyra shook her head in annoyance, Windblade did see a ghost of a smile.

"I told Praesidia that was a silly thing to say in the heat of the moment," Pyra sighed wistfully, but much to Windblade's dismay, the Torchbearer's face grew solemn. "Look, I understand what you're trying to do," Pyra looked to the floor, arms crossed, "And while I appreciate the effort, the fact of the matter is we got captured, our world is now occupied by tyrants, and I could have-" Pyra glared downward, "I should have done more to stop it."

Windblade was taken aback by the amount of hatred in Pyra's voice, almost all of which sounded directed at herself. "I'm..." Windblade stammered, "I'm sure you and the others did everything you could have done."

Pyra muttered, "No, I didn't. I-" she leaned against the nearest wall, pinching the bridge between her optics for a moment. When she continued giving her reflection on the floor a death glare, Windblade was about to ask what was wrong, but the Torchbearer disdainfully sighed, "When the Decepticons attacked Caminus' capital city, we fought as hard as we could, but then we came face-to-face with the leader of the invasion. She called herself Strika," the sheer venom in Pyra's voice at the name almost made Windblade back away in fear, but she managed to calm herself as the older bot continued, "We all tried to fight her, but she had us outnumbered and outmatched. We were divided by her forces, and just when I manage to break away to go after her, she-" Pyra wasn't able to continue, her glare replaced with pure sorrow.

"Pyra, maybe you should sto-"

"Praesidia's dead."

Pyra's sudden, low statement elicited a gasp from Windblade, who almost couldn't believe it. All the stories she'd heard of the Torchbearer's leader always made her seem larger than life, beyond death itself. But in many ways, reality was a cruel mistress. Their current predicament was proof of that. Finding her voice, Windblade reflexively gulped and asked, "A-And her killer was Strika?"

Pyra nodded bitterly, "The moment I saw that, I was completely frozen. The Decepticon hadn't seen me at that point. I could've snuck up from behind her and killed her, ending the invasion. But I just...I didn't. And I was captured for my inaction. I failed."

Windblade wanted to say something, but she didn't know if there was anything she could've said. Maybe she could have said that killing Strika didn't guarantee that the invasion would've halted, but she couldn't. She didn't know if that would've happened. Scrap, who's to say that wouldn't have made things worse? Windblade looked down, upset that she didn't have a single answer to Pyra's woes. Instead, all she could muster was to ask, "A-And what about the rest of the Torchbearers?"

Much to Windblade's dismay, Pyra shrugged, "All I remember was being barely conscious, hearing Strika order for us to be boarded on the ships. When I came to, I was in a cell. I don't know where they are or if they're even alive anymore," suddenly, her gaze began growing more resolved, "But I intend to find out. Once we're all out of here, once everyone's safety has been assured, I'll head off and find my teammates, wherever they are. Then we'll find our way back to Caminus and take our home back. That's a promise."

Windblade smiled slightly, feeling that same determination burn in her own spark. They'd escape this ship, she knew with absolute certainty. They'd find their fellow Camians, return to their home, and drive the Decepticons off their world.

In that moment, there was no doubt at all.

"Glad to hear that," Jetfire's voice chimed in as Windblade and Pyra turned to face him. He was walking up to them, a large Energon sword in one servo and an equally large gatling gun in the other, "You know, you're starting to sound like some Autobots I know."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Pyra looked behind Jetfire and saw the rest of the Camiens. From what could be seen, they were all patched up. Or at least the frontmost ones were.

"Fixed what I co-co-could," Fixit rolled up from behind them, stopping just beside Jetfire, "Hopefully, it'll be enou-nou-nough for now."

Jetfire pulled out the holo-map of the ship, "Escape pods should be just a few floors down."

"And how many Decepticons between here and there?" as if to answer Windblade's question, steps echoed throughout the hall outside, drawing everyone's attention to where the vault door used to be. Running towards them was many Decepticons, all heavily armed.

"Open fire!" the frontmost one shouted, forcing everyone in the vault to take cover.

Ask a stupid question, Windblade berated herself as she saw Jetfire jump into the doorway and fire his gatling gun, sending a barrage of ion blasts towards their attackers. Those at the forefront were shredded while those further behind got out of the way. Javelin leaned out from her position and took aim with her sniper rifle, managing to hit a Decepticon right between the optics. Hot Shot rushed out from behind cover and activated a setting on his plasma blasters, launching torrents of flame that forced their opposition back.

Seeing opportunity, Windblade looked to Pyra, who nodded as they left their cover and charged the Cons. Windblade reached them first, drawing her blades and delivering a twin slash down across one's chest before spin kicking another into a wall. A third managed to get behind her, but she reacted in time to avoid his shot, backflipping over him and delivering a sweep to his legs that knocked him down. Before he could get up, Windblade held her blade in a reverse grip and drove it into the Con's chest. At the sound of the ensuing battle behind her, she stood up and turned just in time to watch Pyra finish off the last of her opponents with an axe strike to the head. More footsteps approached, this time from the Camiens and Jetfire while Fixit rolled up.

"That all of them?" Hot Shot asked, Javelin at his side and Lightbright hiding just behind them.

"Doubtful, there's gonna be a lot more coming our way," Jetfire took lead, "Everyone ready?"

Everyone gave an affirmative shout as they once more ran down the halls, ready for anything that was thrown their way. One way or another, they were getting out of here.

"Die you filthy Autobo-GAK!" were the last words uttered by the Decepticon grunt as Jetfire sliced him in half with his Energon saber. He could hear further slashing and crushing behind him, courtesy of Windblade and Pyra laying waste to their opposition. Up ahead of him was Fixit, tasering another grunt and holding him still long enough for the purple Camien, Javelin, to get a clear shot and blast his processor out.

"Think that's the last of them," Windblade said as she retracted her blades.

"For now, anyway," Pyra reminded before walking forward just past Jetfire, "Not that it matters. We're here."

Right in front of the group was the entrance to the escape pod bay, which they wasted no time opening, as more Cons would likely close in on their location soon enough. Jetfire, Windblade, Pyra, and Fixit all stood guard, letting the rest of the Camiens run in first. Once it looked like they were in the clear for the moment, they entered and started checking the pods.

"Look's li-li-like only three can fit per pod," Fixit analyzed, Jetfire taking in said fact as well. He counted the number of pods, and from the looks of it, there were almost enough to fit everyone. Almost being the key word. While Fixit would be able to fit as a fourth for one of the pods, two of them would have to remain behind. Jetfire had no qualms staying to ensure everyone else got away, but that left one more bot who wouldn't make it.

Cross that bridge when you get to it. Focus on getting everyone else out of here, "Okay, let's start loading everyone up!" Jetfire directed three Camiens to the first escape pod, with the impromptu trio making certain they were strapped in. Once that was done, he looked over to Pyra, and at her affirmative nod, closed the hatch and typed away on the side console. With exact coordinates to the nearest planet on the ship's star map set, the pod launched into space and away from the ship to safety.

"Thr-Thr-Three down, a bu-bu-bu-bunch to go!" Fixit chimed as they loaded the next several pods, Camiens all taking their seats before being launched out, Jetfire inputting those same coordinates he input for the first pod. When they arrived at the final two pods, Pyra motioned for Javelin, Hot Shot, and Lightbright to get in. The three took their seats, but the youngling among them seemed frightened.

"Hey, kid, it's gonna be alright," Javelin reassured, her single optic conveying understanding for Lightbright's fears.

"Yeah! We'll be with you each step of the way. Promise," Hot Shot added, giving the warmest grin he could muster and an awkward thumbs up.

Seeing that the youngling was still afraid, Pyra placed a gentle servo on her shoulder, "Little one, don't be afraid. After having fought alongside these two, I would trust them with my spark. And though you've been through much, you've persevered," she gave Lightbright a calming smile, "You're stronger than you believe. So have faith, and may Solus guide you," Pyra looked to rest of the pod's occupants, "All of you."

"I...o-okay," Lightbright, still fearful, managed a nod and strapped herself in. With that, Jetfire typed in the destination and sent the three on their way, leaving one final pod, but six Cybertronians.

As Jetfire set the coordinates, Windblade turned to two of the finale Camiens; a femme whose head bore an intense flame atop it, as well as a mech with blue armor and small yellow wings on his back. "Firestar, Skystriker," she addressed them respectively, "You two strap in."

"You as well, Windblade," Pyra said, drawing a surprised look from the Camien in question.

"W-What?" she gasped as Firestar and Skystriker took their seats in the pod, "But why?"

"I won't be able to rest easy until I know all of our people are safe. I need you to go with the others."

"No, I'm going to stay here and help!" Windblade looked over to Jetfire and Fixit, "Jetfire, you and Fixit go. You've done so much for us already. And with the Decepticons planning on taking you to those DJD butchers, you need to get out of here!"

Jetfire shook his head, "Sorry, but I'm with Pyra on this one. We'll stay here. Keep the Decepticons off your tailpipes."

"I'm no-no-no-not gonna leave my friend behind," Fixit said, servos crossed with a tone of finality. Jetfire was going to protest Fixit's decision, but Windblade interrupted.

"B-But-"

"Listen," Pyra began, "I said that I would allow no more of our people to die this day, and I meant it. Now go!"

Windblade, in frustration, shouted, "NO! If you stay here and die, that would just as much break the vow you made!"

"Or we all die and I break my vow even further," Pyra cynically muttered before asking, "Then what do you propose we do? As you can see, only one more will fit within the pod, and none of us intend to leave at the expense of another."

"I don't know, but we need to think of something."

"Windblade, time isn't a luxury we have at the moment. Please, for all our sakes, get in the pod. I'll try and find another out if I can."

"But what if-"

"Uh, excuse me?" interrupting the argument was one of the final pod's occupants. More specifically, it was Skystriker, who asked, "How about we make it easier on you and stay too? Think not dying will be a lot easier when it's all six of us."

"No, you need to get ou-"

A deafening boom came from the pod bay entrance, where a pair of Decepticon grunts came in and opened fire. Jetfire and the others shielded themselves as best they could, but he suddenly found himself flying back, crashing into the floor. As he picked himself up, he opened his optics and saw his attacker.

Frag, he cursed, now standing face-to-face with a Seeker, a femme from the looks of it, whose wings menacingly loomed over the downed Autobot. Before he could stand, the elite soldier stomped on his head, her foot jet activating as his face found itself scorched. As he screamed, he heard Windblade yell, followed by the foot and intense heat removed from him.

Things became a blur as fighting sounded in the background. He heard Fixit tell him to hold still, followed by Pyra yelling to "stay in the pod". Then came more fighting and slashing, followed someone being slammed into. Just as he felt things become clear, he blinked, seeing Windblade fly above and crash behind him. Fixit moved away as Jetfire forced himself up fully, just in time to see the Seeker manage a kick to Pyra's chest that knocked her into the escape pod.

"Now now," the Seeker sealed the pod doors, Pyra's shouts of anger heard from behind it. With a crude laugh, the Seeker mocked, "Let's leave the riff raff out of this, shall we?"

"No! Don't-" Jetfire's plea was on deaf audio receptors, however, as the Seeker punched the console, sending Pyra, Firestar, and Skystriker out into space. Now enraged, Jetfire drew his saber, "You'll pay for that!"

"And you'll pay for abandoning us, traitor," the Seeker aimed her arm-mounted blasters at him, "Those freaks in the DJD won't get you. I'll savor killing you myself."

"Then by all means, come try it," Jetfire challenged, prompting the Seeker to open fire. The Aerialbot deflected the first two shots before shifting to his plasma cannon, aiming right for his opponent's head. However, the Seeker shot the plasma blast, resulting in an explosion that blanketed the area with smoke. Jetfire tried to activate the scanners in his optics, but found that they weren't working. Scrap, her first attack must have done a number on them, Jetfire cursed, but then he heard screaming coming from within the smoke. As it began to clear, he saw an outline of the Seeker, but an electric current was running across her body, and at her feet was the outline of a familiar Mini-Con.

"Jetfire!" Fixit shouted from within what remained of the smoke, "Now!"

Not wasting time, Jetfire complied and activated the jets in his feet, flying forward and reaching the Seeker in the span of a nanoklik. Drawing his saber, Jetfire slashed at her head and decapitated the Seeker in a single swing. As the Con's body fell limp to the floor, Jetfire rushed back to Windblade and shook her, "Windblade! Windblade, are you alright?"

"Ugh, too loud," Windblade groaned as she shook her head, a servo to her helm, "What was that?"

"A member of the Seeker Armada. The Decepticon Empire's elite, and my former unit before I became an Autobot." Jetfire explained, his tone solemn on the last bit.

"I'll say, she was way tougher than I expected," Windblade recovered, Jetfire helping her up as she looked around, "Wait, where's-" she gasped, "Pyra and the others! Jetfire, what happened to them!?"

Jetfire's gaze grew apologetic, "The Seeker tossed Pyra into the pod and sent her out with the others. I'm sorry."

"No," Windblade's optics clenched shut.

"If it means anythi-thi-thing, the coordinates were locked into the pod," Fixit rolled up from the pod's console, "If lu-lu-lu-lu-luck's on our side, they should be flying ri-ri-right for the same planet everyon-on-one else was."

Don't think that's helping, Fix. Especially when you phrase it as a matter of luck, Jetfire was about to point this out, but Windblade started whispering loud enough for all to hear.

"I should've listened. If I'd just gone when I was told, she'd still be here. If I didn't argue so much, Firestar and Skystriker's safety would've been guaranteed, but now we don't know if they'll make it or not."

"Hey, don't focus on that right now," Jetfire held Windblade by her shoulders, shaking her out of her guilt-fueled stupor, "Could you have done that? Yes, but we don't know how differently things would've gone. I've made a lot of mistakes over the vorns, but one thing I've learned is that we can't undo the past. We can only pick ourselves up and continue forward. I think Pyra will do that, and I'm sure she'd want you to do that too."

Windblade didn't say anything, still downtrodden. Jetfire would have said something else, but the Camien beat him to the punch, "What do we do now?"

It's a start at least, Jetfire mused. Windblade's low tone and unwillingness to look anywhere but the floor wasn't the best sign, but addressing the problem any further would have to wait until they were out of here. "We need to take control of the bridge," Jetfire said, standing at full height as he led the way out of the pod bay, "Once we've taken out the crew, we can use the ship to head for where we sent the other Camiens."

"And then we can make sure everyone made it in-tact?" Windblade's tone lightened slightly as they all began running, or in Fixit's case, rolling, down the halls.

"Yeah! Don't wo-wo-worry Windy! I'm sure-sure they made it," Fixit reassured, sounding as bright as possible. Unfortunately, the corners far ahead of the trio filled with Decepticon troops, who opened fire on them. The trio was forced to take cover as laser blasts filled the hallway.

We don't have time for this! Jetfire pulled out the ship's layout and saw that they were several floors beneath where the bridge was. He looked over to Windblade and yelled, "On my mark, get ready to fly!" Windblade nodded, and the Aerialbot waited for an opening before he rolled out of cover and opened fire, blasting a few Cons. "Now!" Jetfire shouted as he picked up Fixit and transformed into his jet form. Activating his engines on full blast, he rocketed past the blockade and down the halls. Windblade flew just behind him in her own jet form, though hers had rotary engines in addition to rockets.

"Uh, Jetfire? I think they're gaining on us!" Windblade yelled, Jetfire looking back to see that a few of the troopes had transformed into jets as well. Others were chasing them down on wheels.

"Follow me!" Jetfire picked up the pace, going through hallway after hallway until the elevator was right in front of them. He loaded up a missile and launched, destroying it and opening the elevator shaft for the trio to fly up. While this took care of the ground chasers, they still had the flyers on their tails. As the roof and floor of their destination approached, Jetfire got an idea and opened fire once more. The resulting blast sent shrapnel and debris falling downward, the trio making a hard turn at the exit. In the clear at the moment, they transformed back to robot form as Jetfire placed Fixit down. All three of them looked down the elevator shaft to see that the chasers were battered and sent crashing from the rubble.

"Hah! Eat that Decepticre-cre-cre-creeps!" Fixit cheered with a jump.

"PHEW! We...we actually made it," Windblade calmed herself down, propping herself against the nearest wall for a moment.

"Yeah, surprised me too. Didn't think that was gonna work for a Nanoklik," Jetfire admitted, feeling his own Spark calm down. No matter how many life-or-death scenarios he found himself in, improvising an idea on the spot was always a stressful time.

"Don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that," Windblade chuckled.

"No one ev-ever does," Fixit laughed, causing Jetfire and Windblade to laugh in kind. However, the laughter died down as their current situation re-entered their processors. Jetfire looked forward and saw that they were in a singular hallway, no exits save for the one at the very end: the entrance to the bridge.

"This is it. Odds are, the bridge will be heavily guarded," Jetfire turned to Windblade and asked, "Ready?" Windblade, without any hesitation, nodded, with Fixit giving his own affirmations as well. With that, Jetfire shifted his arm into a missile launcher and fired at the door, blowing it off its hinges as he, Windblade, and Fixit stormed the place.

"Kill them!" a soldier shouted, and the trio was immediately besieged by plasma shots through the initial smokescreen. Jetfire took to the air, letting his large frame divert much of the initial fire while Windblade and Fixit got to work on their attackers. Shifting his arm into a plasma cannon of his own, he started shooting down any troops that his friends couldn't immediately reach. After he finished off all the gunners, he watched as Windblade kicked two Decepticons together before running them through with her blades. Fixit, meanwhile, was on the back of another heavy soldier like the one guarding the weapons vault. But unlike the previous one, Fixit didn't have the element of surprise, being grabbed and thrown off.

"Fra-a-a-a-ag!" Fixit shouted as he flew across the room, Jetfire speeding to him. He managed to catch the Mini-Con just before he was smashed against a wall. "Thanks!" Fixit said as they looked down to see the large troop strike at Windblade with a massive battle-axe. She was able to dodge most of his strikes before backflipping over him and delivering sword strikes to his back and heels. He doubled over, with the Camien set to impale him from behind, but the large Decepticon recovered in time and turned, batting Windblade away.

"ARGH!" Windblade shouted in pain as she skidded across the floor on her back. Jetfire was about to rush over to help, but a sudden laser shot almost hit him square in the head. Thankfully, he dodged it in time and saw the culprit: the sole remaining technician of the bridge crew.

"Fixit, see if you can keep the technician off me. I'll deal with this guy," Jetfire ordered, seeing the heavy troop loom over Windblade and bring his axe down. The Camien was barely able to hold the axe blade off with her sabers, and it was clear she wouldn't be able to hold for long. Fixit nodded, with Jetfire throwing him right towards the technician's head. With the shooter now distracted (and screaming loudly) Jetfire rushed down and drew his blade, ready to drive it through the heavy Decepticon's head. However, the Con reacted in time to block it with his axe, instead skidding far back on his feet. Thankfully, it gave Jetfire and Windblade some breathing room.

"Thanks for the save," Windblade stood up, swords at the ready, "Any ideas?"

"I'll keep him distracted. You get him from behind while he's dealing with me," Jetfire answered as the Decepticon charged, Windblade running ahead of Jetfire as they charged in kind. The former slid under the Con's legs while the latter blocked his attack, sword clashing against axe. Windblade leapt onto the Decepticon's back and drove her swords into his shoulders.

With a cry of pain, the Decepticon flailed in an effort to get the Camien off, dropping his axe in the process. Jetfire picked it up, wielding it alongside his blade as he flew forward. Windblade jumped off just in time for the Aerialbot to slash downward with both weapons at where one of her blades had previously been impaled. The force behind the attack cut the Decepticon's arm clean off, making him back up in agony and fall to his back, but not before shifting his remaining arm into a cannon in an effort to blast Jetfire.

"Oh no you don't!" Windblade shouted as she drove a sword into the arm, pinning it to the floor and granting Jetfire an opening. With all his might, he drove the axe right into the Decepticon's chest plating, penetrating deep enough to rupture his Spark chamber. As the light left the Decepticon's optics, Windblade retracted her sabers and walked up to Jetfire, who was about to comment on something, but then...

"Surrender-der-der, Decepticreep!"

"Alright alright! I give!"

Jetfire and Windblade overheard the end of Fixit's fight with the technician and ran past rows of the bridge's control consoles. When they reached the Mini-Con, he was holding the heavily damaged Decepticon seated at missile point. Fixit, for his part, had some superficial damages to his orange armor, but nothing too severe.

"Can't believe this," the Decepticon muttered, "Beaten by a stupid Mini-Con."

Jetfire saw Fixit scowl at the comment, Windblade glaring alongside him as she knelt down and met the technician optic-to-optic, "Be quiet. I won't hear you insult my friends."

"Tch, whatever, dumb colony trash." the technician's crude comment made Windblade's optic twitch. Jetfire gently placed a servo to her shoulder.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Don't let him."

"Yeah, listen to the traitor. Real trustworthy bot there," Jetfire ignored his comment and went to the controls, seeing that they were heavily damaged with coordinates locked in. He cursed internally before looking out the port windows.

"Oh scrap!" Jetfire's optics widened as he saw they were flying right into an asteroid field, "Fixit, please tell me you can repair this thing fast?"

Fixit jumped onto the console, looking outside then back to the broken system, "Uh...definitely not-not-not in time for that-that."

"HA!" the technician laughed as the first asteroid hit, shaking the entire vessel as the bridge's lights flashed red and an alarm blared, "Looks like we're all gonna die."

"You did this! So undo it!" Windblade held the Decepticon at blade-point, but another asteroid hit them, briefly off-balancing her.

"Can't, not that I would if I could," he smirked and glared at them, a third asteroid hitting the ship, "See you in the Pit."

"Uh, guys, giant asteroid dead-dead-dead ahead!" Fixit's frightened yell drew their attention to the asteroid in question. Sure enough, it was gargantuan, possibly a quarter the size of a planetary satellite.

"Jetfi-WOAH!" Windblade shouted as another asteroid hit, this time impacting the window and cracking the glass, "What do we do!?"

Jetfire's processor flared with panic, not knowing or seeing any way to avert the current crisis. The repeated impacts from the smaller asteroids and the cackling of the technician weren't doing him any favors either. Looking at the control console, he tried to see what options were available to him. Dropships within the loading bay? No way they'd make it in time, and that was without accounting for the other Decepticons aboard still out for their Energon. Manual controls? Completely busted. The only things working were the communications and weapons systems. Thinking quick, he activated the ship's targeting computers and let them open fire on the smaller asteroids. Enormous laser blasts sounded in the background, but that wouldn't do a thing to the much larger asteroid they were rapidly approaching. There was only one thing left that they could do: survive and hope help would reach them.

Hope this works, Jetfire cleared his throat and shouted on an open frequency, "To any Autobots who can hear this mess-" a stray asteroid jostled the entire ship, with the Aerialbot reorienting himself to continue, "We are under attack! Repeat, we are under attack! This is Aerialbot Commander Jetfire, can anyone read me!? We're aboard a Decepticon prison ship, and are currently flying through an asteroid field! We were able to free the other prisoners, but we don't know if we'll be able to esc-" another stray asteroid hit them, "If we'll be able to escape in time. If any Autobot ge-," another asteroid, "-gets this message, trace it and find us! We don't have lo-" another, followed by the cracking of glass, halted his message. He looked outside and saw that the glass was this close to breaking. Making matters worse was that one final asteroid was flying in from the side.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" Jetfire grabbed Windblade and Fixit, flying as fast as he could out of the bridge and towards the other end of the hall. The resulting impact shook the entire ship as it spun out of control. The three of them were almost sucked out into space as the glass shattered, but the emergency airlocks sealed them into the hallway, leaving them to get jostles and tossed around, smashing into wall after wall, from floor to ceiling. With one final crash, Jetfire felt his consciousness leave him, everything fading to black.

Windblade groaned as she felt the world around her return. It took all her strength, but she managed to pick herself up from the floor, hunched over as a sudden spike of pain shot from her abdomen. "ARGH!" she clutched at it before looking to see a large gash, Energon bleeding out of her and dripping to the floor. She leaned against the nearest wall to hold herself up, wincing in pain as she sat down. It gave her enough time to take in the rest of her wounds. She felt cracks running along her face, and it looked as though both her wings were bent out of shape. To make matters worse, she saw no sign of Fixit or Jetfire anywhere. Where were they?

"Jetfi-fire? Win-Windy? Anyone?" Fixit's voice called from down at the end of the hallway, as if to answer her question. It sounded like it came from close to the wreckage of the elevator, which Windblade noted was both upside-down and slanted. Sensing her friend was in trouble, she forced herself to stand and limped towards his location, all while sparks and broken lights illuminated the hall. She moved past shredded metal like she was walking downhill, eventually reaching the end, where a familiar orange limb waved from underneath rubble.

Despite the pain it caused, Windblade moved quickly and dug through it, managing to pull Fixit out. Parts of his plating were broken, revealing the circuitry beneath, but the worst of it was below his waist, as his wheels were severely mangled. "Winbla-bla-blade! Thank Primus," Fixit said as the Camien picked him up under her arm. He looked at her injury and asked, "Doesn't tha-that hurt?"

Windblade nodded, "What abo-OW!" she clutched at her wound, another shot of pain running up her body before she fought it back, "W-What about you? You're not looking good either."

"Believe me, It's more pain-pain-painful than it looks."

"Hopefully we'll both be able to get repairs soon," Windblade said with a wince, "But first, we need to find-"

"Uuuuuuh," a loud groan came from within the dilapidated elevator shaft. Windblade and Fixit looked to each other before the former limped towards the entrance and gasped. There, half-buried beneath a mound of scrap-metal with a completely broken wing and Energon bleeding out of a couple holes in his upper chest and mouth, was Jetfire. If not for the groaning and the fact that his optics blinked open, Windblade would have thought he was dead. "W-Wind...Windblade?" Jetfire rasped, his voice scratchy and hoarse, "Fix..."

"Jetfire, just hold on!" Windblade shouted, ignoring her pain long enough to jump into the shaft and reach Jetfire. "Scrap, this looks bad," she said before putting Fixit down atop Jetfire's damaged chest plate, "Can you do anything for him?"

Fixit shook his head, "Not in my current condition-tion-tion-tion. This ship shou-should have a medical bay, but..."

"No way to reach it," Windblade finished, looking back down at her barely conscious friend. She blinked her tears away, promising herself that she wouldn't let him die, and dug through the rubble. Once he was freed, she used all her strength to pick him up and get him out of the elevator shaft before climbing out with Fixit in tow. It was then that she couldn't ignore her wounds anymore as the pain overwhelmed her, forcing her to lay down beside Jetfire as she clutched at her wound. Everything hurt, with all her subsequent attempts to force herself to stand only furthering that pain. She was beginning to doubt she'd be able to get up again, let alone carry her friends out of here.

Can't...can't quit now... Windblade tried to pick herself up one more time, Come on, get up! But it didn't work, her body falling back to the floor. "Frag..." she felt darkness overwhelm her, what little strength she had left was fading fast. She didn't want things to end this way, but it seemed inevitable as her body finally felt like it was giving out...

"Windy, just hold o-o-on for me!"

...until Fixit's voice echoed in her audio receptors, and suddenly, a powerful jolt forced her awake. With a gasp, she snapped her head upward and looked around, seeing Fixit doing what he could to repair her wound. From the looks of it, he seemed to have crawled all the way over here.

"Fixit, you-"

"Upupup! Hold sti-sti-still," Fixit tinkered with the internal wiring and circuitry within the wound before shifting his arm into a welding torch, "I've sea-sealed the bleeding-ing-ing, but tha-tha-that's the most I can do right now."

"Thank you," Windblade found she had enough strength to pick herself up, but it was still a strain, and even with the bleeding sealed up, everything else still hurt. "Really," she continued, "After everything, I owe you a lot."

Fixit smiled, "Think nothing-ing of it-it. I'm a doc-doc-doctor, so it's in my job des-description-tion-tion. Besides-sides, what are friends for?"

Windblade smiled at that, gently picking him up in one arm before moving over to Jetfire. It took a good deal of effort, but she managed to sling his arm over her shoulder and lift him up. Limping, she carried them to the bridge entrance, its airlock conveniently busted open, most likely from the crash. She brought them through, taking in the demolished, upside-down bridge room and the shattered windows leading to the outside. Wasting no time, they exited and stepped onto the rocky terrain of the asteroid, making their way from the ship.

"Jetfire, you still with us?" Windblade asked, the Autobot's silence terrifying her.

"Yeah..." he quietly answered, much to hers and Fixit's relief.

"Just hang on-on-on buddy, we'll stop somewhere-where to patch you up," Fixit said, "Then we wait-wait-wait for an Autobot who picked up your dis-distress signal-nal-nal-nal.

A tinge of worry ran throughout Windblade's body, "What if Jetfire's signal wasn't heard?"

"Ships..." Jetfire muttered, "If...no one...docking bay...find...ship..."

"Think any of them would still be functional?" Windblade asked.

"I hope so," Fixit replied while Jetfire began murmuring something. The Mini-Con looked up at Windblade and said, "Better find a spot to put-put-put hi-him down soon."

"Good idea," Windblade nodded as the group started nearing rock formations where they could rest and patch up. "Jetfire, I need you to talk with us. Let us know you're still ther-ARGH!" Windblade doubled over, almost dropping her friends as a sudden pain seared along her wing. She looked and saw that one of her rotors was gone, sparks erupting from what remained as laser fire came down on the group. Ignoring the pain, she forced herself to run, friends in tow as they hid behind the rock formations, laser blasts still sounding.

"Scrap! Looks like some survi-vi-vived!" Fixit shouted as Windblade poked her head out from behind cover, seeing several Decepticons jumping down from what used to be the bottom of the ship. While just as many remained up top and continued to fire upon their position, those that jumped down were slowly making their way over, clearly enjoying taking their time.

Sadists, the lot of them, Windblade grunted and drew her blades, ready to strike the first one that came close, but the act itself reminded her of the injuries she'd accumulated. Then she looked over to her injured companions, realizing that the odds of her being able to fend off the Decepticons and protect them in her current condition were practically non-existent. Doesn't mean I shouldn't try, her optics entered a glare as she readied herself to run out and meet them face-to-face.

"Windblade..." Jetfire croaked, "Run..."

What? Windblade looked at Jetfire like he was insane.

"Take Fixit...run...leave...me..." he rasped.

"No," Windblade immediately said, ducking as a particularly powerful laser blast shook the rocks providing them cover, "I won't abandon you or any of my friends. Not now or ever!"

"That goes dou-double for me-me-me!" Fixit agreed, making it clear that if this was it, they were facing the end together.

Instead of protesting any further, Jetfire gave a solemn smile, "It's...been an...honor..."

Windblade gave Jetfire and Fixit one last smile as she looked out from behind cover, seeing a pair of Decepticons almost upon them. Jumping out, she took a combat stance with her sabers while the Cons took aim. Windblade's Spark pulsed with terror, but she wouldn't let it show, instead preparing to deflect whatever they shot at her, even if it would be for a short time.

But suddenly, all enemy fire ceased, with the two Decepticons in front of her looking up, at which point Windblade heard what sounded like a loud engine in the distance. Taking advantage of the distraction, she quickly cut the two down in front of her, causing the other Decepticons to recover and open fire. She deflected a few shots, but a stray one struck her leg. With a cry of pain, she jumped back to cover, sitting next to her friends as she clutched her newest injury.

"You okay?" Fixit asked.

"Y-Yeah," Windblade winced, "What happened?"

A brief, hoarse laugh escaped Jetfire, followed by him rasping, "Looks like...help...arrived...after all..."

As the loud engine noise grew louder, Windblade looked to its source to see a massive ship flying down towards them, floating just above the destroyed prison barge. Even from this far, Windblade could see the Autobot emblem proudly displayed on its side, the sight making her Spark swell with relief. All Decepticons started firing on the newly arrived vessel, but to no avail.

The ship's underbelly opened up, and out dropped two bots; one was a mech with black and white armor plating and twin bladed disks in each servo. The other had white and grey armor with a prominent shoulder cannon. The latter shouted, "COME AND GET SOME, DECEPTICREEPS!" as he and his partner began fighting the Cons topside (technically bottomside) of the ship.

"Fixit...was that?"

"Yup," Fixit answered Jetfire, "That was def-def-definitely Wheeljack."

"Friend of yours?" Windblade asked.

"Not exactly," Fixit awkwardly answered, "More an...acquaintance-tance-tance. He's a Wrecker. They're not-not exactly the most sub-subtle of bots."

"HA! THAT THE BEST YOU GOT!?" Wheeljack shouted, followed by an explosion.

"Ah," Windblade understood, another explosion, this one bigger than the last, going off where the two Autobots fought, "I take it this is a regular occurrence when it comes to him and these...Wreckers, as you called them?"

"This is actually rather-ther tame by hi-his standards," Fixit commented, leaving Windblade to look at the Mini-Con like he grew a second head. If this was tame, what the frag did Wheeljack's normal look like?

Maybe don't think too hard on that, Windblade immediately decided for the sake of her sanity. Not that she had time to think about it anyway, as the ship flew overhead and landed just in front of the injured bots, kicking up dust and rock everywhere. The ship's rear ramp opened up, two Cybertronians in vehicular form driving out at top speed. The reddish car reached them first, transforming into a femme whose helm had two skinny fins atop it. Her blue optics looked at all of them with compassion and worry.

"Are you three alright?" she asked just as the large blue truck arrived and transformed into a very tall mech with truly massive shoulder pads.

"Elita...Magnus..." Jetfire rasped, smiling and gaining more strength as he looked at the new arrivals, "Aren't you a sight for sore optics."

"Good to see you to, old friend," Elita knelt down rested a gentle servo to Jetfire's shoulder, "But save your strength. We're getting you out of here," she looked to Fixit and Windblade, "All of you."

A sudden, powerful plasma shot impacted their cover, knocking away large chunks of it. As more blasts hit their location, Magnus asked, "General Elita? Your orders?"

"Get these three aboard the Alpha-5. They need medical attention ASAP!" Elita commanded, the bracers on her servos unfolding over her fists, revealing a pair of gauntlets, "I'll cover for you."

"Understood," Magnus helped Jetfire up as the wheels on Elita's legs revved up. The Autobot shot out from behind cover faster than Windblade could keep track. Poking her head out, the Camien watched as Elita elegantly dodged all enemy fire that was now aimed at her, closing in on her targets to deliver powerful, yet graceful blows to her opponents. "Let's go soldier!" Magnus snapped Windblade out of her awe as she turned and saw that he was already at the ship's ramp, Jetfire and Fixit in tow. She briefly turned back to watch the ensuing battle before limping after Magnus, who patiently waited for her.

"Sorry," Windblade said, wincing slightly.

"Let's get you three to the medical bay for now," Magnus replied as they entered the ship. All the while, the relief Windblade felt from before magnified tenfold, a single thought replaying in her processor.

They were safe. They were finally safe.

Elita flipped over the grunt's attempted charge, catching him by the shoulders and throwing him towards his only remaining ally. She's already taken care of everyone but these two, and they weren't proving much better than their predecessors, especially in their desperation. One pulled out his blaster, but Elita revved up her wheels, delivering an uppercut that knocked him into the air before spin-kicking the poor trooper into the ground. She could sense his partner try to rush her from behind, but she rolled her optics and smacked him away without even looking.

"Last chance, Decepticon. Surrender," Elita-1 walked up to the trooper still in front of her, who glared in defiance as he reached for his blaster and charged it up. Elita pulled out her Neutron Blaster and shot it out of his servos before he could fire. The Con raised his arms in surrender as Elita lowered her weapon ever-so-slightly. But then she noticed the ghost of a smirk and realized the troop had glanced behind her.

Not hearing any steps from her flank, she swiftly turned and was about to take aim at the bot's partner, but before she could, a pair of cutting disks flew in from above, slashing away the bot's blaster arm and head respectively. The Decepticon's corpse fell to the ground, Prowl and Wheeljack landing from their battle above as the latter kicked the decapitated head away like a mecha-soccer ball.

"Not a bad shot Officer," Wheeljack complimented, which went ignored by the Cyber-Ninja as his disks returned to him. The Wrecker scoffed at Prowl's aloofness before standing next to Elita and pointing at the single remaining Decepticon, "So what about him?"

"Might I suggest interrogation?" Prowl spoke up, "Given that this was a prison ship, I assume we're dealing with a prison transfer from one planet to the next. Perhaps he knows something useful, such as where the prison itself is."

Wheeljack chuckled and pounded his fists, "Sounds fine with me. I got a knack for roughing Cons up."

Elita held out her servos, telling the two to hold it. There was more than one way to skin a Turbofox after all, and she'd rather use methods that weren't so needless. Kneeling down to meet the terrified Decepticon at optic-level, she said, "This is your chance to do the right thing. I'd take it."

"We were taking prisoners from a newly conquered planet back to Cybertron! Lord Megatron wants them. T-he main console's on the bridge! It has all the ship's navigational data!" the Decepticon shouted, "I swear, that's all I know! J-Just let me leave! I swear I'll never fight for the Decepticons again!"

"Prowl, go check the nav data," Elita ordered as she stood tall. The Cyber Ninja nodded and made his way for the broken bridge of the ship, leaving Elita and Wheeljack to watch the grunt. Instead of pulling any expected tricks, he remained seated, quaking in fear as the cycles passed. In that time, Elita pondered just what the trooper meant. The Decepticons continued conquest was nothing new, but in her experience, the world's population remained where it was to serve as labor for harvesting resources. She didn't know what made this planet so significant for Megatron to order its people to be transported to Cybertron, but it wasn't anything good.

When it came to her former friend, it was never anything good.

Soon enough, Prowl returned, Elita and Wheeljack turning to him as he said, "Much of the ship's systems were damaged in the crash, but I was able to gleem over a good deal regarding this ship's transport routes and its former prisoners. More specifically, they were from the lost colony of Caminus."

"Huh, always thought that planet was a myth."

"As did I," Prowl looked to Wheeljack and said, "But it seems the Decepticons found it and, naturally, conquered it."

"Nice work, Prowl," Elita looked back to the grunt, who was still shaking, and said, "If I catch wind of you hurting anyone like you did before, I won't be so forgiving next time we meet," she levelled her coldest glare, "Now transform and get out of here."

The Decepticon frantically nodded and shifted to vehicular mode, revving up his engine and bolting as far away from the Autobots as possible. Once he was little more than a far-off speck, Prowl walked up, "You know he's more than likely to fall back in line with the empire."

"Then we'll deal with that when it comes," Elita sighed as they made their way back to the Alpha-5.

Wheeljack scoffed, "Think it might have been more merciful to just blast his head off. Quick clean kill and all that."

"Can't say I disagree," Prowl added, "Given that he just gave us vital information, he'll at best live in terror of his superiors finding out, or at worst they do learn and make sure he suffers before killing him. And that's assuming he lives long enough to see such a moment."

Elita would admit that there was a point to what both her fellow Autobots had said. After all, the higher ups of the Decepticon Empire weren't known for mercy or forgiveness. But nonetheless, she had no intention of following through with such an idea. "Like it or not, that isn't how we operate," Elita sternly replied as they entered the ship, "We don't kill the unarmed and helpless. We only engage in aggression when all other methods are exhausted."

"Yeah yeah, what separates us from them. Yeesh, if I had a shannix for every time I've heard that speech from ol' Optimus, I'd be as rich as Mirage used to be," Wheeljack brushed off, the three of them entering the med bay where Magnus monitored Jetfire's vitals. As for the others, Fixit was currently in stasis for repairs while the third bot, a heavily damaged femme with red armor, bent wings with a broken turbine, and distinct facial markings sat on the third operating table, her legs dangling over the edge. The young bot's concerned gaze shifted between Jetfire and Fixit, unwilling to rest.

"How's everything looking Magnus?" Elita asked.

"Jetfire's in bad shape, but he'll pull through," Magnus answered, not looking away from the monitors, "Fixit will be fully repaired in approximately one Mega-Cycle. I'm certain his expertise will accelerate Jetfire's recovery."

"That's good to here," Elita was relieved, but looking over to the recovering femme put a damper on that. Walking up to her, she asked, "You alright?"

"Y-Yeah," the femme stammered, shaken up by the entire experience and concerned for her friends in equal measure. Elita-1 gave her a sympathetic look, remembering how surreal everything felt after the crisis ended; how odd the lack of laser fire and destruction felt after being forced to accustom herself to it.

"Don't need to be so jumpy, kid," Wheeljack chimed in, "We don't bite. Unless you try to shoot or stab us, that is."

"N-No, it's not that, it's..." she sighed, "It's just...it's everything. My friends are hurt, I have no idea what happened to my home, we barely escaped by the metal on our plates," as she continued, her pace grew more rapid and frantic, "I almost died several times, I had to watch the Decepticons slaughter so many people and it's just-" she cut herself off and did what she could to calm down, "It's just one cycle I'm hanging out with my loved ones on Caminus. The next, I'm thrown into the Pit without warning. Everything just happened so fast, and I don't know how to keep track of it all. I don't even know if I want to."

Elita gave her an understanding look, remembering the first time she'd been in a life-or-death situation and the fatigue that came after. Gently reassuring the bot, she asked, "What's your name?"

"Windblade," she answered.

"Windblade," Elita repeated, "I'm sorry for what happened. Believe me, I know what you're going through," she gazed at everyone else in the room, "I think all of us do."

"Indeed. One's first time in combat is always the most difficult, but you'll grow accustomed to it over time," Prowl said, Magnus providing a curt nod or agreement.

Wheeljack chuckled, "One cycle you're freaking out, the next you're busting heads and having a blast."

"Okay boys, you're officially not helping," Elita groaned before giving Windblade her full attention, "Sorry."

Windblade shook her head, "No, it's okay. I...I appreciate it anyway. Besides, they have a point. I'm probably gonna need to adjust to this if I want to save my home."

Elita gave her a small smile, "And we'll do whatever it takes to help you." Windblade looked ready to protest, but Elita beat her to the punch, "As Autobots, it's our duty to help those in need. To protect life wherever it resides. If the Decepticons have taken over your planet, we'll work to free it. Right everyone?"

"Of course, ma'am," Magnus saluted, with Elita resisting the urge to roll her optics.

"Hey, I'm always in the mood for kicking Con aft," Wheeljack smirked, "So count me in."

"I'll provide aid as well," Prowl said.

"And I'm sure if they were awake, Jetfire and Fixit would be all in as well," Elita turned back to Windblade, "So, what do you say?"

Windblade looked at them all, completely flabbergasted, "I...I..." she had trouble finding the words, but after a few nanokliks, she smiled back, "Thank you. All of you. But first, we need to find the other Camiens. We sent them off in escape pods to some planet. I don't remember which one though, but if we had the ship's nav data, we'd be able to find them."

Elita looked at Prowl, "You have the nav data. Think you can help?"

Prowl shook his head, "Sadly, no. The nav data was heavily damaged in the crash. I was able to access locations the ship itself had previously been to, but I couldn't find anything on where escape pods were sent out."

"I see," Windblade looked downtrodden at this news, "In that case, I'll hope for the best. They were able to get away from the Decepticons, so that'll have to be enough for now," she looked up to Prowl, "What about Caminus? Was there enough to plot a course to it?"

"About that..." Prowl put a finger to his temple, causing his optics to glow and emit a holo-map of the galaxy, "Based on the data I gathered from the ship, flying directly to Caminus isn't the most viable solution. As you can see," the map pinpointed Caminus' exact location in relation to them, "We're rather far off from it."

Wheeljack whistled, "With that kind of distance, it'd take several Stellar Cycles to get there just by flying."

"That's..." Windblade was in utter shock, "How did they fly so far so quickly? How long was I unconscious on that ship?"

"Hmm," Magnus looked at the map.

"Think it's a space bridge, Magnus?" Elita asked, knowing the answer.

At his nod, Magnus ordered, "Prowl, check the nav data for any space bridge locations. If we can find which one the prison barge came from, we can use it to fly us directly to Caminus. If we're lucky, this ship's been through most of them." Prowl concentrated, the holo-map flickering, and revealed the locations of a number of Decepticon controlled space bridges across the cosmos. The nearest one looked to only be, at least by a generous estimate, a couple Chords away. "That's the one," Magnus pointed, "But it will most likely be heavily guarded."

"Then we'll be ready," Elita said.

"So what are we waiting for? Let's-" Windblade looked ready to jump off her table, but winced in pain, "ARGH!"

"Hey, don't move around too much. You need to get patched up first," Elita helped rest Windblade back to the table.

"But-"

"We'll get to Caminus and free your people," Elita said, "But it won't do you any good if you rush things as you are. Focus on that for the time being, then all of us can work out a plan together." Windblade looked ready to protest, but after another wince, she reluctantly complied. Seeing her despondence, Elita reassured, "Don't worry, we'll be on our way before you know it. For now, save your strength and rest," she looked over to the slumbering Jetfire and Fixit, "After all you've done to help my friends, you've more than earned it."

Windblade didn't answer initially, only laying back on the table and closing her optics. Elita motioned for Prowl and Wheeljack to move out of the med bay to give Magnus room to work. She followed after them, but not before she heard Windblade one last time.

"Elita," she said, "Thank you."

The Autobot leader simply smiled and headed on her way.

"Frag!" Cold Iron yelled as the damaged communication systems sputtered electricity in his face and emitted loud feedback.

"Is it fixed yet?" his sister, Burnout, whined from what was technically the roof of the bridge. Cold Iron looked down and saw her stomping about, kicking random scraps of rubble, all the while the one patrol officer, Brave Steel, tapped his foot impatiently.

Cold Iron growled in frustration, "I wouldn't know, since this was never my area of expertise to begin with."

"Great! Fragging great!" Burnout kicked a piece of rubble with all her strength, making it bounce everywhere and hit Cold Iron square on the head.

"OW! Really sister!?"

"You're fault for flying there in the first place!"

"I'm only flying up here because we need to contact someone to give us a ride off this dump," Cold Iron flew down and poked Burnout's helm, "How about you fly up there and try to patch things up? See if you can do any better."

Burnout glared for a second before shrugging, whipping out a blaster and pointing it at the console, "Sure, I'll just blast it till it works. No biggie."

"NO!" Cold Iron and Brave Steel held her back.

"What?" she asked indignantly.

"You blow that thing up, we're really never getting off this rock," Brave Steel pointed out, "Don't tell me you're that stupid!"

Burnout shoved both of them off, "Oh go to the Pit! I don't have to take this from the bot who gave the traitor a map of the entire ship!"

"They were gonna kill me!"

"A tiny, frightened brat was going to kill you," Cold Iron said, arms crossed, "You should've let her. Those prisoners never would have made it that far otherwise."

"Y-Yeah well you..." Brave Steel stammered, "You both let yourselves get jumped by them!"

"That's it!" Burnout punched Brave Steel and started wailing on him. As the pathetic patrol officer begged, Cold Iron sat back and watched, smirking at the sight. Sure, he would never have gotten to see the traitor get what he deserved, but this was a close second. After she finished, she stood back and let the waste of space try and pick himself up. He only barely managed, now propping himself up using the fallen, mangled remains of a chair.

"Now that things have calmed down, I suggest letting me finish my work," Cold Iron said, almost jumping up to try and continue repairs.

"And then what?" Brave Steel asked, his voice raspy as he spat out Energon.

"We go back to Cybertron," Burnout replied as if she hadn't spent the last few Cycles beating the ever-loving slag out of the bot who asked, "Why? What else would we do?"

Brave Steel shook his head, "Had it ever occurred to you that the higher ups are gonna blame someone for this?"

"Yeah, they'll blame you. This is all your fault anyway," Cold Iron dismissed.

"And you," Brave Steel caught them off guard, "Think about it. We're the only three Decepticons left alive. If they find us, we're as good as dead for this failure."

"...slag," That's actually a good point, Cold Iron thought. If they did make it back, they'd face harsh punishment for this. Now if the Seeker Captain assigned to the ship was still alive, she'd be the one who'd take up that burden, but sadly for them, she was dead.

"What do we do then, bro?" Burnout asked.

"We fix up the comms, that doesn't change," Cold Iron concluded, "But we'll need to find a planet to lay low. After we trick a ship into coming near here, we hijack it and set course for Regulon-4."

Brave Steel looked terrified, "B-But isn't that home of the metalmongers?"

"Yeah, and that means if any of our old outfit tries hunting us down, they'll be in for a surprise," Cold Iron explained, recalling the rumors he'd heard about the metalmongers; how only a few of them managed to pose a threat to hundreds of Cybertronian warriors. Whether it was true or not was another story, but rumors were a powerful thing. "Now if you'll excuse me," Cold Iron flew back up to the upside-down console and continued his tinkering, "I have to try and get lucky with this thing so that we can actually contact someo-"

"Oh, there's no need for that," amidst his tinkering, a deep, familiar voice spoke from the other end, "I can hear you just fine."

"Yes! We're saved!" Burnout cheered, and for a moment, Cold Iron shared in that jubilation as he floated down.

"No, quite the opposite, actually."

"Huh, what are you-" suddenly, it hit Cold Iron. He realized who was talking to them, "T-Tarn?"

"Indeed. I'm calling you from Messatine," the DJD's leader answered, "Apologies for the sudden transmission, but I couldn't help but notice that your ship failed to deliver the traitor, Jetfire, to me. He was next on our list, after all."

Brave Steel gave an awkward, terrified laugh, "Y-Yeah, about that. See, he might have sorta, kinda, maybe..." he gulped, "...escaped."

"Do tell me, how did he escape? Was it not your job to ensure he'd remain locked up?"

"Brave Steel gave him a map of the ship! He helped him and the prisoners get away!"

"Burnout!" Brave Steel looked at her with utter horror and betrayal.

"What, it's true," Burnout said, despite having the same terrified expression. Knowing how the DJD operated, better to throw the coward under and hope the kill calmed them down enough to leave the rest alone. After all, unlike Brave Steel, Cold Iron and Burnout didn't help an Autobot get away.

"I see," Tarn said, "Brave Steel, have you nothing to say?"

"I-I didn't do any-they w-were holding me at gun point and-"

"How pathetic," Tarn interrupted, venom in his voice, "And you call yourself a Decepticon? You're unfit to bear the mark."

Cold Iron and Burnout smiled in relief as Brave Steel quivered in terror. From the looks of it, they were safe, all of Tarn's anger directed at the soon to be dead patrol officer.

But then the music played.

"In fact, none of you are."

"HRRK!" Cold Iron felt his body weaken. He fell to his knees and puked out Energon.

"You don't mind the sudden music, do you?" Tarn quietly asked, "The Empyrean Suite, composed by Eucryphia during the era of the Thirteen Primes. I tend to enjoy playing this as I whisper my prey to death."

"What is...what's-"

"It's simple," Tarn explained, voice growing lower, "I'd been trying to hail your ship's comms for quite some time these past few Megacycles. In your seemingly futile efforts to repair them, you unknowingly succeeded. So, when you three started making plans to abandon the Decepticon cause, well," he snarled, "I. Heard. Everything."

The more Tarn spoke, the more agony Cold Iron's body felt like it was in. His Spark felt like it was beating slower, and his limbs couldn't move at all. "W-What..." he rasped, "How are...how is...you're not...here..."

"Come now, Cold Iron, it's common knowledge that my voice can kill. But it seems you were unaware of the fact that I don't need to be with you for it to work. You merely need hear me, and your life is mine to do with as I please," Tarn let out a mirthless chuckle, "Understandable, as I rarely employ it outside torture, and that's always when we have our quarry alone."

"But...but we..." Cold Iron looked to his sister, who was hunched over, puking and crying about how she didn't want to die. Brave Steel seemed to have just given up entirely, lying flat and bracing himself for the end. "P-please," Cold Iron begged, "Let my sister go. T-Take me instead!"

"You won't have to worry about your sister. You'll be the first to go, after all," Tarn taunted, his voice lowering even more.

"I..."

"It's such a shame I won't be there to watch the life leave your optics, much as it is a shame that all of us couldn't be there to torment you three in person," Tarn's voice reached the quietest it'd ever been, electricity coursing throughout Cold Iron's body as the DJD leader said, "But for what little it matters, I will allow you the opportunity to speak your last. Tell us, what shall the final words of Cold Iron, former prison guard and lowly deserter of the Decepticon cause, be as he chokes on his own Energon and perishes into nonexistence? Hmm? We're waiting."

The electricity grew more violent, cracks formed along his entire body as his optics started breaking apart. His spark's pulse grew fainter, and the last thing he saw in his shattered vision was the horror on his sister's face. All he could muster was a rasped, broken whisper, "I'm...sorry..."

And that very moment, his Spark gave out.

Tarn grinned as the explosions sounded from the other end, all three deserters having died one-by-one. As he gazed upon the twin setting suns of Messatine, he would admit there was a certain...euphoria, that came with killing traitors. Those who abandoned Lord Megatron's will deserve nothing but torment before their inevitable demise, thus weeding out the ranks of the unworthy. That was the mission of the Decepticon Justice Division: Find. Kill. Cleanse.

But alas, while three were slain, one got away.

"Tarn? What are you doing out here?" Nickel's maternal, almost patronizing voice came in from behind, the DJD leader turning to see the light blue Mini-Con roll up to him, "You took a call and headed off without a word. Left me and the others worrying for a bit."

"It's nothing, Nickel. I was merely taking care of a few loose ends," Tarn replied, walking alongside her back to the Peaceful Tyranny.

"Must have been some noisy loose ends for you to walk out on everyone," Nickel commented.

Tarn nodded, "Indeed they were, though they've been silenced now," in the far distance, he could see their ship, "When we get back, tell the others to start up the Peaceful Tyranny's engines. We're going on a hunt."

"You mean for that Jetfire bot?" Nickel asked.

"Yes. He managed to escape the ship he was being transported in. So now it falls to us to bring him to justice for his betrayal," Tarn snarled, barely keeping his rage in check. He clenched his fist so hard that Energon bled to the snow ground beneath his feet, but he didn't care. He relished in it, for he would deliver that agony to the traitor a million-fold.

"Tarn!" sadly, Nickel did care, and saw fit to force him to as well, "Gah! Again! How many times do we have to have this talk? How many? Now give it here."

"Very well then," Tarn knelt down and let Nickel work on repairing his servo.

"Twist my frikkin arm a little," Nickel mumbled, finishing the repairs in no time.

"Thank you," Tarn said as he stood, much to Nickel's indignation.

"Na-na-na! I don't want to hear it. You can show some proper thanks by actually keeping your temper in check for a change."

"I promise nothing, especially when our next target requires a more...personal touch," Tarn walked ahead of the Mini-Con, gleeful as images of his former friend being burned in acid, torn to shreds, shocked into overload, and ripped apart from the inside-out played in his mind.

"Personal? What did this Jetfire do anyway?"

"He lived, Nickel," Tarn answered, refusing to divulge any further, "He lived."

Chapter Text

Pain. Blip's entire world was pain.

What little strength he had left was coming to the forefront, forcing his body to slowly awaken as he struggled to recollect what happened. He recalled the Autobot holding him at gunpoint, he recalled Elita-1 letting him loose, and he recalled driving away as fast as his wheels would allow him. But after that, what happened? Why was he...

O-Oh...I remember now.

The DJD had found him. They'd surrounded him, Tarn placing a hand to his shoulder and whispering in his audio receptors a multitude of questions, none of which he could recollect. What he could recall was that all of them sounded rhetorical, as if no answer he could give would matter. Not that he could've answered since he was too scared to do so. Then came the torment that had engulfed the next several Mega-Cycles of his life.

More memories came pouring in; an acid chamber melting his armor, only to be pulled out and thrown into a shredder that stripped him of his legs. He then remembered...something being drilled into his face, followed by several shocks that sent him into unconsciousness. After that, nothing.

Please let that be the end of it, Blip could feel tears flow down his face, Why? Why didn't they just kill me?

But as his consciousness slowly returned, he heard the music; the Empyrean Suite from the sound of things. The very same that had been playing as they mutilated him. Confusingly, it felt as though there was something in his mouth, like they'd given him a gag of some kind, and a wet, sticky one at that. To top it off, there was a strange pain in his head, divorced from what enveloped the rest of his body.

"Tarn," a disturbingly familiar voice cut off his thoughts, "Looks like he's coming to."

"Good. Perhaps he'll be in a more responsive mood now."

Blip's optics opened, everything a blur as he stared towards a sheet of pure grey. Blinking, his vision came into focus and he saw that he was staring at the asteroid's surface. He could see shadows looming, followed by a rabid snarl just in front of him. Despite the terror, he found himself looking upward, coming face-to-face with a growling Turbofox. It glared at him with crimson optics, one of which was highly damaged, before the familiar voice called, "Down boy! Don't eat his Spark chamber just yet."

The turbofox obeyed, returning to its master as Blip looked up and saw them: the Decepticon Justice Division.

The largest, Helex, glared down at him with one set of arms to his hips while the smaller set was crossed around the acid chamber embedded in his chest. The second largest, Tesarus, had a more bored appearance, staring with indifference. At least, Blip assumed, since the large X on his face made it hard to tell if he had optics. But then Blip's own optics trailed down to the shredder in the hulking behemoth's chest, and he shivered, remembering that those blades tore his legs apart.

In front of the two was the scrawnier form of Vos, whose optics looked at Blip with maniacal glee as he rubbed his servos together. The holes in Blip's face ached the more he looked at him, and he remembered what happened, and what Vos had done to him. He was almost thankful for the bark that distracted him, turning his attention to just behind Helex, where the crimson bot known as Kaon sat. Unlike the others, he wasn't looking at him (not that he could, given his lack of optics) and instead focused on the pet turbofox, whom he was affectionately doting on. The generator in his chest, coupled with the large coils on his shoulders, brought forth reminders of the electrocutions he'd been subjected to.

Blip wanted to speak. He wanted to ask why him? Why were they doing this? But a massive servo patted his shoulder, and the music ceased. Then the weight on his shoulder left, and out from behind him walked the tall, purple figure of Tarn; the mask that was the Decepticon emblem adorning his face. For a moment, he and the others just looked down and stared at him, as if waiting for something. But terror and the gag held Blip's tongue. They just kept staring at him until finally...

"Looks like he's not going to chew on it," Tarn said, sounding both impressed and disappointed at the same time, leaving Blip to wonder what he meant by that. He turned to Helex and said, "Would you kindly put it back? I think he's ready to start answering our questions."

"Fiiine," Helex whined, walking up to Blip, who shuddered as he neared. The bot's dark blue armor shown as he knelt down and reached into Blip's mouth, pulling out-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Blip screamed, seeing what the gag truly was. What Helex has pulled out of his mouth was, in actuality, his own processor, wires still connecting the sphere to his head's internal circuitry, all of which bled a glowing blue. Tesarus looked like he was groaning, his mouth moving, but whatever he said was drowned out by Blip's screams. Before his voicebox could give out, Blip found his mouth sealed by Helex's finger, who carefully placed the processor back in his head. He didn't bother reattaching the helm, leaving the internals of Blip's head sticking out.

Once that was done, Helex stepped back, letting Tarn kneel down and meet Blip optic-to-optic, "Well, now that you've found your voice, let's see if you can answer some important questions."

"I-I-I-" Blip could only stutter in fear, not knowing if the next nano-klick would be his last. He heard Vos say something in Old Cybertronian, with Tarn turning to face his fellow DJD member.

"Now now, Vos," he chastised, "Blip here may be our prisoner, but there's no need to make such...derogatory comments about his intelligence." Vos shrugged while Tesarus held out a servo, which the smaller bot hi-fived while saying something else, as if they were really enjoying insulting him. Tarn shook his head and returned his attention to Blip and grabbing his chin, "Apologies for my companion's lack of tact. Though I will admit, it's a very accurate assessment of you."

"W-What?"

"Regardless, I think it best we make this quick. So please, do give me a straight answer," Tarn leaned forward, his optics glowing with outright malice, "The Autobots flew away with the traitor, Jetfire. Did they say anything that may indicate their next destination?"

I...huh? Blip didn't answer, but this time from confusion. He'd admit to not being the smartest, but the DJD weren't making sense with how they were operating. He knew they were torturers, but they just got started on subjecting him to it rather than ask these important questions first. What if he died during the torture? What if he actually did chew on his own processor like they were expecting him to? At best, his mind would be scrambled and whatever he said next would just be utter gibberish. These guys are insane!

Drawing him out of his confusion was Tarn's sigh of disappointment, "It seems you need some encouragement," he stood up and turned to Vos, "He's all yours."

Blip whimpered as Vos walked towards him, "W-Wait-"

The DJD member said something, just as impossible to understand as before, and reached for his mask.

"Please don't-"

Vos removed it, along with the rest of his face as he knelt down.

"I-I'll talk! I'll remember! Please, just not again!"

He turned the underside to Blip, revealing all the familiar drills, claws, and spikes beneath. As phantom pains etched the holes in Blip's sobbing face, he could almost imagine the sadistic smile the DJD member had. At least, if the cruel smirks on the rest of the DJD were any indication.

"Wear. My. FAAAAACE!" Vos whispered, grabbing the back of Blip's head and slowly pulling him to the drills. Blip tried to fight back, to keep away from them, but he couldn't manage it. Just as the drills neared, he suddenly remembered something that the Autobots had said before they let him go.

"W-Wait! CAMINUS!" Blip screamed as the drills stopped, "They're going to Caminus!"

Everyone stood silent for a few nano-kliks before Vos reattached his face and the DJD grouped together, unaware or uncaring that Blip could hear it all.

"So, they're heading for Lord Megatron's newest conquest," Kaon pondered, "But why?"

"Does it matter?" Tarn questioned.

Tesarus grunted, "Not to me. Just wanna kill something."

"Same here," said Helex, Vos adding his own two Shanix in, though like before, Blip couldn't understand any of it.

"Agreed," Tarn looked to Kaon, "Contact the Peaceful Tyranny and tell Nickel to make a call for the nearest Space Bridge. Considering how far off Caminus is from this sector, odds are the Autobots will try to hijack one to reach it. We'll intercept them there and give the traitor what he deserves," they broke the huddle and turned towards Blip, "But for now, why don't we take care of this traitor?"

"B-But I didn't betray anyone!"

"Oh Blip, you really shouldn't tell lies," Tarn lowly said, causing Blip to vomit for a spell as the Empyrean Suite played once more.

"I-"

Tarn knelt beside him and patted his shoulder, "See, here's the thing. In this skirmish with the Autobots, you're the only survivor of the prison ship's crew, and you just so happen to know where they went," he whispered angrily into his audio receptor, "That tells me you either gave them important information in exchange for your life, or you ran away from the fight, possibly with intentions to abandon the cause as well. Now, I want you to understand-"

Blip puked again, feeling like his Spark was about to burst as the speech became drowned out by his own thoughts. He couldn't even deny it. Tarn's words summed up what happened, even if biased and filtered to serve the monster's twisted worldview. It looked like he was finally dead, not at the hands of an Autobot, nor would he die old and at peace on some far-off planet like he wanted. No, he was going to die a traitor's death, at the hands of the cruelest Decepticons imaginable. The very thought made him sick.

But as bile and tears leaked from his face, he looked up and glared at all of them, a burst of defiance coursing through him one last time. He was a dead bot, but if this was it, then he'd die on his own terms. He'd die as himself, which was more than could be said for any of them.

"-so take to heart, little Blip, that you'll serve the Decepticon Empire better in death than you ever did in life. You'll become a shining example of what becomes of traitors to the cause. And when word reaches out of your gruesome demise, any who dare to think about leaving will need only-"

"SHUT UP!" Blip's servos found enough strength to latch onto Tarn's mask in an effort to tear it off. The taller bot stood and shouted in shock, grabbing Blip and throwing him to the ground. The smaller bot managed to lift himself from the ground and looked up, seeing the shocked and horrified expressions of the DJD, all while their Turbofox hid behind Kaon, who shielded it. But Tarn...

"You..." Tarn snapped, readjusting his mask to make sure it stayed on, "You traitorous coward. How dare yo-

"Oh frag off with the theatrics!" Blip shouted, lurching over, "You call me a coward, but I'm not the one hiding behind a mask. I'm not the one playing pretend!" He forced himself to turn his head upward despite the pain and glared at Tarn, "All this talk, this pretense, you're just playing at being some principled warrior. But all you do is hide. You and the rest of this lot. You act like you're a sophisticated enforcer, but I see you for what you really are: an empty, pathetic shell who's nothing without that Primus damned symbol on your face!" leveling one final glare, "You want to know what I think you are without it, Tarn? You're just like me. A pathetic little nobody that the universe couldn't give less of a scrap about!"

Blip heaved, having expended everything on his rant. All he could do now was continue to glare, waiting for the inevitable. Tarn, for his part, didn't move nor speak, his mask hiding his expression. But his optics glowed with pure, undisguised malice, the rest of the DJD backing away a bit. They knew what would happen next, as did Blip, but nothing happened for what felt like several cycles.

Then the music stopped.

Tarn wordlessly grabbed Blip by the throat and slammed him into the ground, surprisingly not knocking his processor out in the process. The DJD leader then slammed a fist into Blip, then another, and another, and another. Having long since been overwhelmed by pain, Blip felt almost nothing as Tarn subjected him to a savage beatdown. As Tarn punched a hole through his chest, Blip coughed up a glop of Energon, but then smiled. He now felt only satisfaction as the masked bot ruthlessly tore out his Spark chamber.

At last, Blip's optics began to fade, the last vestige of life abandoning him, The nightmare...is...over...

Windblade gasped and shot up, clutching at her still aching head, "That was-" she snapped her optics closed, images flashing from her dream. It started out pleasant, but then came the Decepticons to shatter that peace. Once more, she watched as Caminus was brought to ruin, only this time, she saw Chromia pinned down by the Decepticons. Windblade was forced to watch as they tore her apart limb from limb, then they turned to her and did the same, leaving her a lifeless husk. Another corpse atop the pile they'd built.

Don't. Just don't, she told herself and stood up, walking out of her new room to wander the halls of the Alpha-5. Windblade stretched, no longer feeling the pain from before. After Fixit was awakened, he started by getting to work on repairing Windblade, and after the fact asked for peace of mind to focus on patching up the still comatose Jetfire. Never did get to thank him for that, she turned a corner, remembering her way to the med bay of the ship, and saw an open room with the lights on just ahead. Blades and grunts could be heard from within it.

Curious, she peered into the room and saw Prowl, who threw his bladed disks at the holo-matter avatars that surrounded him. Said avatars fought back as the disks flew around the room in a circle, slashing them all apart one-by-one before returning to their owner. His posture relaxed and he took notice of Windblade as she entered the room. "Uh, hi," she awkwardly began, "Sorry to interrupt."

"Windblade," Prowl greeted before returning to training, "What do you want?"

"Nothing, just heard something was all."

"I see. Carry on then," Prowl slashed up one of the avatars before dodging another and spin-kicking it into oblivion.

"So, uh, any chance you've seen Jetfire around?" Windblade asked, "I'm hoping he's recovered by now."

"He's still in the med bay."

I figured, but it didn't hurt to ask, Windblade looked around the room, seeing a small, organic plant on a desk in the corner. From its appearance, the vegetation was well taken care of. Next to the plant, however, was a holo-image of Prowl and another bot at his left. Walking up to the desk, she picked up the projector and took a closer look at the bot, noting the black plating around the legs, shoulders, and helm while the metal around his torso was a pristine white. Despite the fact that his optics were hidden behind a pair of blue shades, his posture and smile radiated this easy-going nature. Even Prowl seemed pretty happy in the image, making Windblade smile.

However, as she looked at the image, she noticed that it seemed cropped; the area around Prowl's right cut off. Staring closer, she saw what looked like the barest hints of a green and black servo. Placing the projector down, she looked back at Prowl, who was delivering a palm-strike to an avatar's head, and asked, "Prowl, who are these two bots?"

"Pause," Prowl said without missing a beat, freezing the holo-avatars in place. He turned to Windblade, a neutral expression on his face, but the annoyance in his optics was evident. "Windblade," he said, crossing his arms, "I don't rummage through your personal life. So kindly give me the same courtesy."

"R-Right, sorry," Windblade sheepishly answered and started out of the room, worried she upset her new...friend? Acquaintance? She hadn't known him long enough to be sure. Not helped by his overall cold, aloof demeanor.

"Windblade," Prowl stopped her before she could turn the corner out the door, "If Jetfire's awake, tell him I'm glad he's alright."

...okay, maybe he's not that cold and aloof, Windblade smiled and replied, "I will. Have fun with your practice."

She stayed long enough to watch him nod and turn back to the constructs. "Resume program," she heard him say as she continued down the hall. The sounds of blades and punches faded into the background as she navigated the path to the med bay. Along the way, she passed by a number of rooms, likely for storage purposes, but found herself slowing down as she heard loud music down a hallway to her right.

"Huh, what's that?" Windblade wondered aloud as she turned, detouring from her path to see what it was. Despite the music being muffled by walls and a door, it was still so loud it started to give her a headache. Part of her almost didn't want to open the door for fear of bursting her audio receptors. Well, too curious to stop now. Besides, it can't be that bad, right? Windblade mused as she tapped a button on the door's panel and opened it.

"-COLD SLITHER! YOU'LL BE JOINING US SOON!"

"ARGH!" Windblade covered her audio receptors, I take it back! This is so much worse than I thought it'd be! Opening her optics, she looked into the room and saw Wheeljack sitting at a desk, his back turned to her as he bopped his head to the needlessly loud track. Based on the sparks flying in front of him, it looked like he was building something. Walking in, she winced in pain as she removed a servo from her right audio receptor and tapped Wheeljack on the shoulder. He turned to her, letting her shout, "COULD YOU PLEASE TURN IT DOWN!?"

Confusion etched on his face, he lowered the volume and asked, "Hey Windy. What's up?"

"Ugh, do you really have to listen to music so loud?"

"Yup," he smirked, "I only have two rules for my kind of music: loud and obnoxious."

"Okay, but could you at least tone it down just a bit? Felt like my audio receptors were gonna explode."

"Fine," Wheeljack groaned and turned the volume back up, though this time it was more manageable.

"We're tired of words. We've heard it before. We're not gonna play the game no more!"

"What kind of song is this anyway?" Windblade asked. Whatever the music was, it fit Wheeljack's description well, sounding rather off-key and obnoxious even with the toned-down volume. Not to mention the lyrics were very...concerning, given the allusions to conquest and a "new order".

"It's called Cold Slither," Wheeljack answered and continued his work, "It's a Con song, but it's a fun one."

"Riiight," Windblade drawled out, not understanding the appeal. She looked over the Autobot's shoulder and asked, "What are you building anyway?"

Wheeljack didn't immediately answer, instead humming the music as he put the finishing touches on it. "This..." he began for build-up as he put the tools down and held it out, "Is a lobbing ball!"

Windblade stared at the large sphere, looking like it was a mishmash of random metals crunched together, and asked, "What's it for?"

"It's for a game we used to play back on Cybertron called Lobbing. We'd throw these things to each other as hard as we could, trying to catch the damned thing. A lot of the time, we knocked the other bot over, sometimes even sent them through the nearest wall!" he explained wistfully, "Practically a favorite for the Wreckers."

"Fixit mentioned that back when you guys were saving us," Windblade commented.

"Oh really? What'd the little guy say?"

"That you're completely unsubtle."

"HA! Guilty as charged. We're unsubtle, insubordinate, and a walking disaster area. Probably the nicest things the top brass would call us back in the old days," Wheeljack grinned, standing up and experimentally tossing the lob ball in the air, "You should ask ol' Magnus about us," he spun the ball on his finger, "Bet the bot'll blow a gasket if you get him talking long enough."

Why does he sound so proud about that? Windblade shook her head, "I'd rather not."

"Tch, your loss, but I'll tell ya, his reaction would've been priceless," Wheeljack tossed the ball and caught it, "So kid, want to play a few rounds? And don't worry about getting hurt. I've seen scrawnier bots survive getting hit if they couldn't catch it."

"Nonononono!" Windblade rapidly shook her head and formed an X with her servos, "N-No thanks! Just got out of the med bay and all," and with that reminder, she backed up for the door, "Speaking of, I should probably go check in on Jetfire."

"Alright then," the Wrecker went back to tossing the ball, "If he's better, ask him if he's good to play lobbing," he grumbled, "Never could beat him at it."

"I will," Windblade answered honestly and got back on the path to the med bay, somewhat surprised by Jetfire's supposed interest in such a game. Based on description, it wasn't really her thing, but it did remind her of the games she used to play with her friends back home. Mostly Tadek, though she was never as good at it as her peers. Still, the memory made her smile.

After a few cycles, she made it to the med bay, the doors automatically opening for her as she entered. Inside, Jetfire was laid unconscious on an operating table with his chest plating opened up. Hovering above him was Fixit, who was in the middle of patching up several of his internal systems. Windblade walked up, prompting Fixit to look up from his work and lift the goggles from his optics, "Oh! Hey Windblade! How ha-ha-have you been?"

Windblade waved, "Been fine, mostly," she took a seat opposite to where Fixit was working, "Couldn't really rest, so I decided to check up on Jetfire. Is he doing better?"

"Just need to make some minor rep-rep-repairs now. When I'm done, he should be up-up-up and at 'em in about a couple mega cycles," Fixit explained as he got back to work, "Though he'll need so-so-some re-re-rest."

"I see," Windblade mused, "Hope he wakes up soon. I'm worried about him."

"We all are," Fixit nodded, continuing the repairs. Windblade watched, not saying a word so as to let the Mini-Con focus. Thankfully, he didn't take long, as he reverted his servos back to normal and leapt out of the chest cavity, letting it close. "All do-done!" Fixit cheered, "Now we just have to wait."

"Good," Windblade sighed in relief before pondering, "Speaking of, I never got to say this earlier, but thanks for patching me up."

Fixit smiled, "Don't mention it, just doing my-my job-ob," his expression grew curious, "Though since you're here, I was wonder-der-dering if I could ask you something."

"Sure. What is it?"

"Back on the ship, I heard a couple Decepticon-con-con-con's talking about the invasion," Fixit's words caused Windblade's smile to drop a tad at the reminder. The Mini-Con took notice and grew reluctant, "Sorry. Maybe I'll ask lat-later."

Windblade shook her head and forced her smile back, "It's fine. You can ask."

At her affirmation, Fixit looked back down at Jetfire from his seat and continued, "Back on the ship, they said something about how the Camiens would 'wake the Titans'," Windblade's optics went wide at his words, though he didn't notice as he tapped his chin, "But it was a bit-bit confusing for me. I always tho-thought Titans were a-a-a myth. Know anything-ing about what they'd be-be talk-talking about?"

Windblade sighed, reluctantly answering, "I think they're talking about Cityspeakers. But if they are, they came to the wrong planet."

"Cityspeakers," Fixit tested the word, "I-I read about-out them too. Aren't they the ones cap-capable of communicating with and commanding Titans?" Windblade nodded, to which Fixit continued, "Thought as mu-mu-much. The myths of Titans and Cityspea-speakers was the basis for-" he cut himself off, "Actually, ask-ask-ask General Elita. Her story to tell, after a-a-all. Anyway-way, what did-did-did you mean by what you just said?"

"I mean that the art of Cityspeaking was lost long ago," Windblade huffed.

Fixit winced and sighed, "Maybe we should sto-stop talking about thi-this. I'm sorry."

Windblade shook her head, "I'm fine with talking about Caminus, it's just that these kinds of things pertain to...well, you know."

"Right," Fixit rubbed the back of his head, "So before...everything, what was life on-on-on-on Caminus like?"

Despite the sadness of thinking about her world, Windblade couldn't help but smile at the reminder of better times, "It was peaceful. We didn't have a lot of warriors, but me and Chromia were training to become protectors for our hometown."

"Who's Chromia?" Fixit asked.

"She and I grew up in the same sorority," Windblade scratched her cheek and felt her spark race, "We're...together."

"That sounds nice," the Mini-Con smiled, briefly looking at Jetfire's thankfully stable vitals, "Romance-ance and I don't really mi-mi-mix. Tried it, didn't see the ap-appeal."

Windblade shrugged, "I understand," looking down at Jetfire to make sure he was fine, she continued, "Anyway, our world's a desert satellite orbiting a gas giant. We had ties with a few nearby planets in our solar system, but we couldn't travel very far beyond that. Instead, we focused our attention inward," she smiled at the influx of memories, "I wish you all could see the murals in the temples. The statues honoring the Thirteen were a sight to behold," sadly, her smile gave way to a frown, "Though, most of them are probably destroyed by now."

"You sure you want to keep go-going?"

Windblade nodded, "I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine. Anyway, aside from Chromia, we had plenty of other members of our sorority," she counted off with her fingers, "Acceleron, Proxima, and Aileron. We were all mentored by Magarda," a sudden memory popped into her processor, causing her to giggle, "PFFT! There was this one time when we all went out for drinks and..." she tried to stifle it, "And we got so drunk that we ended up transforming in the middle of the bar!" Windblade erupted with laughter, "HAHA! Our...o-our wheels and wings were pointed the wrong way! You should've seen mine! They were somehow on backwards. And don't even get me started on Acceleron!" she sighed wistfully, "If only Proxima didn't accidentally delete the photos, I'd be able to show you."

"Ha! Sounds awesome," Fixit smirked, "Reminds me of-of my more wi-wild days before-ore the wa-wa-war."

"Really?"

Fixit's optics dawned a mischievous twinkle, "Oh yeah, there wa-wa-was that time when me, Flo-Flo-Flowchart, Schematic, and Rundow-down were all watch-watch-watching the gladiatorial games. The bigger bot in front of us got so dru-drunk on Engex that he didn't notice when we-we-we-we stole their Shannix!" Fixit guffawed, "Ah. Good times. Good ti-ti-times."

"That...doesn't sound like something to be proud of," Windblade gave her friend a concerned look.

"Eh, mech was a jerk to us-us-us before the games started. Plus, he was blo-blocking our view of the fight."

"Still..."

"Anyway, what about you-you?" Fixit asked, "Take it Caminus doesn't have-have-have any gladiator games?"

Windblade gave a quick look down at Jetfire's comatose body before shaking her head, "No, we don't have anything like that. I'll say now that the closest thing I've seen to that was a drinking contest that led to what I was just talking about. The Mini-Con running the place warned us not to, but we were paying, so he indulged us. Too bad we didn't listen."

"Huh, so the place was run by a Mini-Con," Fixit mused, looking away before giving Windblade his full attention, "If you're okay with the question-tion-tion-tion, you have Mini-Cons on Caminus too?"

Windblade happily nodded, "Yup! The mech running the bar we were at was Iceberg, and he makes the best drinks in our hometown! I also know some that were part of fraternities and sororities. We all liked to hang out between lessons and-" noticing Fixit's smile grew rather forced, Windblade asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"No, it's..." Fixit went quiet, "Looks like Mini-Cons are pretty accepted-ted-ted on Caminus."

"Yeah, why wouldn't they be?" Windblade's question was met with a downright discomforting silence, making her think she made a mistake in asking, "Scrap! I mean, sorry, I wasn't trying to-"

"It's fine," the Mini-Con cut her off, crossing his arms, "I'm glad. It's just..." it was subtle, but Windblade saw one of his servos reach for his throat before lowering, "Well, Mini-Cons aren't always-ways-ways treated right back on Cy-Cybertron."

"...I'm sorry, I-I didn't know," Windblade wasn't sure what else she could say.

Fixit only sighed, "I'll say this though. Bad as-as-as it was before-fore the war, it got a lot slag-slag-slaggin' worse after Megatron started conquering Cybertron-tron-tron."

There's that name again, Windblade recalled hearing it back on the prison ship; it being that of the Decepticons' leader. She didn't think much about it at the time, given her circumstances back then, but now that she did, the name puzzled her. Pondering on that, she stood up and said, "I'm gonna go. Got something I want to talk with Elita about."

"Sure, I kinda need the spa-spa-space right now anyway," Fixit reflected, to which Windblade nodded.

"Alright, see you later," Windblade started walking out, but not before turning back and giving a small, if somber, smile, "And when Jetfire wakes up, tell him I said thanks for what he did back on the ship." Fixit nodded and gave her instructions on where the Alpha-5's cockpit was, letting the Camien walk through halls once more. As she made her way though, she couldn't help but muse on the Decepticon leader's name, Megatron, and its similarity to the name of the 12th Prime, Megatronus.

Perhaps it was a cultural difference, but the similar name was eating away at her. On Caminus, the names of the Thirteen Primes were incredibly sacred. In many respects, to take on their names or one so similar to them was sacrilege. Yet for this Megatron to so brazenly do so seemed unthinkable. Then again, this is the same bot who invades entire worlds and rips them asunder, she bitterly thought, Not like he'd care for something like that. By comparison, it's practically miniscule.

Still, she wanted to try and understand why he took on the name, and Elita struck her as the most likely to know. Based on how everyone deferred to her, she seemed pretty high up in the Autobots, so she had to know something. Right?

Arriving at the cockpit's doors, Windblade sighed and pressed a key on the panel, opening the door and revealing Elita-1 and Ultra Magnus. The two bots sat in their respective piloting seats before turning to her. Elita broke out into a smile and said, "Windblade, you're up! Take it the pain's gone?"

Windblade nodded, "Yeah, I was stopping by the med bay to thank Fixit for that," she managed a smile of her own, "And thanks again for helping me get back home."

Surprisingly, Elita's smile lowered just a bit, "Windblade, is something wrong?"

"I...yeah," she admitted, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Elita looked over to Magnus, "Think you can take over piloting for a bit?" the mech wordlessly saluted, earning an eye roll from Elita as she gestured to one of the empty seats. Nodding, Windblade sat down as the ship's captain asked, "What's on your mind?"

Windblade looked down at her lap, fiddling with her servos, and said, "While I was talking with Fixit, he brought something up that reminded me of a name I heard on the prison barge: Megatron."

"The Decepticons' leader," Elita sighed, Windblade seeing a tired, almost sorrowful look in her optics. Like she was more familiar with the bot than she was comfortable talking about.

Not wanting to push personal questions, the Camien replied, "Yeah, so, it's something I wanted to know," clearing her pipes, she asked, "Why's his name Megatron?"

Elita blinked, clearly not expecting that, "You...you want to know why that's his name? Not why he started the war, what's his end goal, or anything like that?"

"Yes. I mean, sorta-ish," Windblade stammered before calming herself and bringing her knees to her chin, "I want to know those things to. I'm just starting there because the name bothers me so much."

"And why is that cadet?" Ultra Magnus asked, optics still focused on piloting through space.

"Well, it's-" Windblade shook her head, "Uh...did you just call me cadet?"

Elita gave a tired smile, "Ignore him. He has trouble speaking in anything other than military jargon." Magnus grumbled while the femme gave Windblade her full attention, "What is it about the name that bugs you?"

Putting her legs back down, Windblade explained, "It's the fact that he's named after one of the Thirteen," using her fingers, she listed off, "The names of Prima, Vector, Trinitus, Solus, Micronus, Alchemist, Nexus, Onyx, Amalgamous, Quintus, Maximus, and Megatronus are sacred on Caminus. It's...taboo to take such a name for yourself," despite herself, she couldn't help but feel some of her anger slip out as she asked, "I was wondering if you know what convinced Megatron to do so? Arrogance? Ignorance? Or both?"

Upon finishing, Windblade noticed that Elita looked rather uncomfortable, opening and closing her mouth before looking to the floor in deep thought. Even Ultra Magnus seemed uneasy with the subject matter. Windblade wanted to press on and ask again, but she didn't have to. Instead, Elita sighed, still staring towards the floor, "Alright, I think you deserve to know," her expression became somber, "I won't deny that his ego was likely part of why he took the name, but it wasn't just for that. He took it as a symbol that the early Decepticon movement could rally behind. In his optics, our world's society had failed its people. In a word, it had fallen."

"I remember Jetfire saying something similar," Windblade said, "He talked about the caste system that used to run Cybertron."

Elita nodded, "He wanted to bring Cybertron out of darkness and corruption, and so became Megatron. In his own words, 'That which has fallen may rise again'."

"I see..." Windblade scratched her chin, "But that obviously didn't happen."

"No," Ultra Magnus bitterly noted, "It didn't. Instead, we went to war with each other."

Everything was quiet, but Windblade still found it in her to say, "But that still doesn't answer my question," she noticed Elita and Magnus look to each other, then awkwardly look around, "Um, not to sound accusatory, but are you trying to avoid the subject?"

"No, it's just..." Elita rubbed the back of her neck, "Something tells me you're not gonna like what we have to say." Once again, she sighed, "What I mean is that, on our planet, Megatronus Prime is best known as 'The Fallen'."

"Why?" Windblade asked, a pit forming in her Spark.

"Because-"

"General!" Ultra Magnus cut the conversation short, "I apologize, but the monitor's picking up a large object moving rapidly towards our position."

Elita seemed almost relieved before she looked back to Windblade, "We'll continue this later. Okay?"

Slightly frustrated, the Camien answered, "Okay, but I'll hold you to that."

"Don't worry, I promise I'll answer whatever questions you have," Elita twisted her seat and inspected the monitor, "Magnus, any readings on the size of the object?"

"Enormous, dwarfing our ship to be sure," Magnus explained, the monitor beeping rapidly to indicate proximity. As he and Elita stopped the ship, Windblade stood up to get a better look. Leaning from behind the two experienced warriors, she saw that the incoming object was some kind of elongated mass that was about to fly past them. The Camien looked outside, but she didn't see anything directly ahead. Only stars far out in the distance countless millions of megamiles away. But then it came into view.

By Primus, Windblade's optics widened at the sight; a gargantuan, serpent-like vessel that was a pristine silver in color. Flashes of yellow light were emitted from numerous porthole windows throughout its length. It was strange, but the ship seemed to almost be flying slower now.

"Okay, can someone explain to me why we stopped?" Wheeljack barged in, everyone turning to see that Prowl had joined him, "We got heads to bust or..." he froze, staring out at the silver serpent with a mix of shock and concern.

"What is that?" Prowl asked, clearly as confused as everyone else.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Ultra Magnus answered, attention back to the monitors, "Scanners aren't picking up any weapon systems, but I'm also detecting countless lifeforms aboard, organic and mechanical."

"Anyone have any idea what this thing is then?" came Elita's question.

"The Cosmic Carnival," everyone turned to Wheeljack, who repeated, "It's the Cosmic Carnival, and we need to get the frag out of here, now!"

"Don't think I've ever seen you concerned like this," Elita said, but she activated the ship's engines and began turning it around, "How dangerous is this thing?"

"Long story, but let's get away before they-"

Suddenly, the entire ship shook violently as if they were struck by something. The intercom buzzed, Fixit's voice coming from it with a shout, "Guys, what the scra-scrap was that!?"

"We're not sure," Prowl answered, "But we'll find out. Just stay with Jetfire and-"

"Uh, guys?" Windblade pointed out the cockpit windows towards the serpent, which had stopped moving, yet seemed to be getting bigger with each passing Nano-klik, "Is it just me, or are we moving closer to that thing?"

"Slag no," the Wrecker among them grumbled, "They got us in a tractor beam."

"Wheeljack, what's going on!?" Elita yelled, the Alpha-5 nearing one of the segments as it opened up.

"Let's just say we're about to lose a lot of Shanix."

Chapter Text

"So, this is a...Cosmic Carnival?" Windblade asked, with Wheeljack grimacing at the question as they all exited the ship and looked around the docking bay. The area was a pristine gunmetal grey and pretty sparsely packed, having a couple other ships present, albeit much smaller than the Alpha-5. To top it off, at least one of those ships was being disassembled by a series of worker drones. Based on how the drones kept repeating "NOW EMPLOYEE. ALL PROPERTY BELONGS TO COSMIC CARNIVAL" as they took it apart, Wheeljack felt sorry for the poor sap who got suckered into signing a contract with this place.

"Yup. Part interstellar hotel, part casino, part zoo, part circus, all one giant con wrapped in a scam wrapped in a pyramid scheme," came his answer, hating the fact that he was back here again. Seriously, why the frag did this have to happen? Right as he dragged a servo down his face to groan in it, he heard the all too familiar clank of a serving drone putting the death knell for their escape chances on the Alpha-5.

"Is that a-" Elita was cut off when the same drone lowered down to her and dropped a card in her servo.

"Yes, it's a slagging bomb, Eli," Wheeljack huffed, looking up at the device to see that it already welded itself into the hull, a hologram display showing that their exit fee would be 50 billion Shannix. Great, just great, the Wrecker rolled his optics, We're already starting with the chrome alloy pie in the sky numbers.

"You clearly know a lot about this place, soldier," Ultra Magnus, ever the stiff, gave him the "Start explaining" look. Wheeljack could only sigh and walk forward as he remembered everything from last time, especially the longer he looked at the two exits with giant, multicolored neon signs over the hallways. One read as "Sideshow/Zoo" while the other read "Casino/Parks".

"It was back when me and some of the Wreckers were handling some missions out near Dromedon. Cons were setting up a foothold to start taking over the rest of the planetary system there, so we Wreckers did what we do best."

"A mountain of over-the-top violence, swearing, and unnecessary screaming?" Prowl asked with narrowed optics in clear and obvious rhetoric.

"Got it in one, Officer," Wheeljack smirked, earning a glare from Magnus, concern from Windblade, and a chuckle from both Fixit and Elita, though the latter also shook her head while pinching between the optics. "Anyway, we blew up the base and most of the surrounding area, which pissed off the local Shrikebat population. Spent a few Mega-cycles fighting those guys off, but we lost a few Wreckers in the process," Wheeljack went quiet for a few nanokliks to give them the proper respects, "We were pretty outgunned when ol' Kup got an idea on how to get them off our afts. See, turns out he'd fought these things before on a planet called Dread, which-

"What does any of this have to do with our current predicament?" Magnus grunted, always unwilling to let a good story play out.

Wheeljack glared at the bigger, boring, utter killjoy of a bot, "I'm getting to that! So, skipping ahead, we were on our way out of the planetary system when the Cosmic Carnival showed up and brought all of us aboard. First thing one of us tried to do was remove that-" he pointed to the bomb, "And it blew up our ship."

"You-You-You didn't think that the bomb had sensors built in to blow up-up if someone tri-tri-tried to remove it? That's the first thing you learn about bomb disposal!" Fixit asked in utter bafflement.

"Yeah, well, Piston panicked and went straight for trying to pull the bomb off the ship. Sue him," Wheeljack gave another moment of silence for his fallen comrade, "So, since we were stuck here, we explored around and did find that the place sold ships of their own. Only problem back then was that they're more expensive than the paywall to get those bombs off the damned ship in the first place. Unfortunately for us, we went to the casino."

"Wait, how is that a bad thi-"

"Kid, that was the only way we could make any Shannix short of finding jobs here and the slot machines were a fragging crapshoot," Wheeljack cut Windblade off, memories of the entire thing putting him in a bad mood, made all the worse by being here again. "Seriously, those things are built for swindling you out of your money," He shook his head, recalling how they all split up to different machines as a way to make all the Shannix they could. Him and Bulkhead ended up losing all their Shannix pretty quickly by way of bad luck. Kup managed to make quite a bit from gambling but was wise enough to stop while he was ahead. Either way, it wasn't enough to get them a new ship. Grimacing, Wheeljack continued, "Only one of us to make any progress was Whirl. And let's just say he..."

"Whirl, what the frag!" Wheeljack yelled as the blue Wrecker faced him, his single yellow optic half-lidded while his left servo still kept a blaster primed at the slot machine. Or at least, the smoldering remains of it.

"Yeah, you blew up the machine!" Bulkhead joined in, though sounding less pissed and more confused, "Why? You hit the jackpot!"

In response, Whirl...shrugged. He just shrugged, "I got bored."

"..."

"..."

"...young bots these days, I swear to Primus," Kup shook his head and took a drag of his Cy-Gar. Bulkhead groaned and clutched at his helm in how their chance to get out was literally blown away, all while Wheeljack felt his inner Energon boil at the sheer reckless stupidity of the bot in front of him.

"Hey!" a voice called out. They all turned and saw the approaching owner to be a Cone headed Decepticon Seeker, one wearing a badge indicating he actually worked here, "Did you blow up that machine? That's Carnival property! Looks like I'm gonna have to report you to Mr. Big...Top..." the ex-Con (Wheeljack assumed) blinked and took a closer look at them before panicking, "Oh scrap!" he pressed on the side of his helm, "This is Dirge to security, come in! We have Wreckers and they're...uh...wrecking up the place! Repeat, send ba-" suddenly, Whirl blitzed forward and punched him in the crotch, "ACK!"

As Dirge fell to the floor, an alarm sounded. The other players in the casino portion of the ship started running out, leaving the Wreckers trapped as the lights flashed red and the room went into complete lockdown.

"Alright then. Gear up you three!" Kup ordered as he drew his twin plasma pistols, "Looks like we're fightin' our way out!"

"Fine by me, sir!" Bulkhead nodded, transforming his right servo into a large grey wrecking ball while his left became a plasma blaster. Wheeljack, meanwhile, primed his shoulder cannon as hatches within the room opened, revealing security drones that quickly swarmed the place. However, unlike the rest of them, Whirl was kneeling over the downed body of Dirge, not paying any attention to their attackers.

"Uh, Whirl," Bulkhead began, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how to write 'Slag for Brains' backwards," Whirl looked up to Wheeljack and held out a pincer-like servo, "Jackie, any chance you got a blowtorch?"

Wheeljack would've called him out on bad timing had the drones not opened fire right then and there.

"-and then we had to run for the nearest airlock and blow it up. Spent about five solar cycles just floating in open space, attached to each other with cables so we didn't float off. An Autobot ship picked up our distress beacon and took us home," Wheeljack concluded the tale of one among many miserable low points in his life, "Long story short, we gotta get out of here now. I am not having a repeat of last time."

The rest of the crew just stood there in silence, with Ultra Magnus' optic notably twitching. Though Wheeljack couldn't figure out why. As if sensing his confusion, Chief said, "Whirl certainly sounds as...needlessly hyperviolent as when I last encountered him."

"Ugh, tell me about it," Wheeljack rolled his optics at how over-the-top his fellow Wrecker was. For some reason, his reaction made Ultra Magnus angrier. Before anything else though, Elita stepped in to diffuse the ensuing tension.

"Obviously, we're not getting out of here like that," she turned to Wheeljack and asked, "What else do you know about this place? Anything that could help us escape?"

"Sorry Eli, don't know any escape routes outside the one we made for ourselves. But I was able to pick up on a few details that could help," Wheeljack began recounting over them, "For starters, this place usually sticks around the same area for about a few days, both to draw in anyone who paid the admission fee, assuming they weren't already living here in luxury suites, and anyone with the worst luck to just come near the place. Former group's usually the richest folk you can find in the galaxy, and the latter's expected to just waste away all their Shannix until they've got no choice but to work here and pay off the debt."

"And, quite obviously, they're never going to be able to pay it off," Prowl mused, arms crossed with a glare of contempt at the current environment.

"Well, frag that," Elita murmured and tore the card in half, making Wheeljack smirk.

"Hmm," Fixit stared up at the bomb attached to the ship, "Hey Wheelja-ja-jack, did you notice anything about the bomb from last time that could help?"

"Nope. Blew to smithereens before I could get a look at it. But now that you mention it..." Wheeljack stepped to where Fixit was and took a closer inspection, noticing quite a few details about the bomb that gave hint to how it worked. Optics scanned every facet of the explosive device, inside and out, as he let out a hum.

"Anything?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"Bomb's proximity based, so if it goes a certain distance from the ship, kaboom," Wheeljack drawled out, "At the same time, it can also be activated remotely, so odds are, there's either a terminal or admin switch somewhere around here to shut it down."

"Just like the Mode Locks back on the prison ship," Windblade mumbled and rubbed at her elbow while Fixit and Elita gave her comforting glances. Wheeljack wasn't really sure what to say, since comforting had never been his strong suit, even though he sometimes wished it was. Didn't seem to be Prowl or Magnus' either, judging by their expressions and postures.

So instead, he continued, "Not exactly. Based on the design, we could pop this bomb open and disarm it that way. Maybe even trick it into thinking we paid the toll. Can't do that with a Mode Lock for obvious reasons."

"Heh, r-right," Windblade scratched her cheek.

"Still, no-not sure I'd recommend that. Too ri-ri-risky," Fixit added.

"You underestimating my bomb diffusing skills, Mini Mech?" Wheeljack asked in faux offense.

"Fixit is correct," Magnus interjected, clearly not understanding sarcasm, "In our current environment, we lack a means to repair the ship should the bomb go off, either because of a slip up, or if they notice the attempt and just decide to activate it then and there. Finding the control terminal presents a better option."

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, tall, blue, and boring," Wheeljack rolled his optics while Chief huffed at the disrespect. Sure, the Wrecker got the point, but where was the fun in that?

"For now, I'm inclined to agree with Magnus and Fixit," Elita stepped in, once again making it a point to keep tensions low, "Not to throw the idea of direct disarmament out, but we'll keep it as a last resort if we can't find the terminal. Understood?"

"Understood, General," Ultra Magnus, ever the boy scout, affirmatively saluted and stood straight. Prowl simply kept his arms crossed and nodded while Wheeljack and Fixit gave salutes of their own, though theirs were lazy and playful respectively.

"U-Uh, understood, Miss Elita," Windblade gave her own salute, one much slower and more nervous. Kid clearly wasn't used to this kind of thing.

Elita saw that too and gently placed a servo to her shoulder, "It's fine Windblade, don't stress out over this. Personally, I'd rather just be called Elita. No salutes or military jargon or anything like that if you're uncomfortable."

"Right, sorry!" Windblade snapped her arm down to her side.

Elita's expression suddenly became a lot more serious and even a bit somber, "And...if you'd like, we'll continue our conversation when we get back to the ship." Windblade nervously nodded, making Wheeljack wonder what they were talking about before the Carnival came in. Releasing Windblade's shoulder, Elita faced the entire crew and said, "Let's get moving. We'll stay in a group for now and explore. See if we can find anything that'll point us to-"

"Actually, I think it'd be be-be-be-best if I stay here," Fixit cut in as everyone's optics looked down on him, "Someone's gotta guard the ship. Plus, Je-Jetfire's still out cold-cold-cold. Need to be there when he comes to-to-to."

Elita nodded and gave a thumbs up, "Alright Fixit. Watch after everything while we're out," she gestured to the rest of the crew and they followed her to the hallway leading for the sideshow and zoo, "Hopefully this won't take long."

"Happy hunting!" Fixit replied as he headed up the ship's ramp and closed it, leaving the rest of them to start exploring about the place.

Elita found herself glancing at the many exhibits as she and her teammates followed through the crowd of various organics and inorganics. Despite the need to search for a means to shut down the bomb holding their ship hostage, she wouldn't deny that the abundance of exotic creatures was a spectacle for the optics.

Still, she frowned as her team continued their trek, There's something not quite right about this place.

Even leaving aside the whole bomb aspect, the sideshow and zoo had this off-putting feeling to it that only increased the longer she looked around. Behind each energy barrier was an animal of some kind; all of them hailing from different worlds that were labeled beside each enclosure. However, while Elita wasn't familiar with most of them, the few she could recognize were grossly misnamed. Whether this was out of laziness or carelessness, she didn't know, but there were clear and present signs of mistreatment with each creature, ranging from small scars and wounds to the pens being too small to accommodate their sizes. Even with those who had room to move about didn't seem all too happy to be there, especially with all the sheer amount of attention they were given by the onlookers.

"Come one, come all, witness species from worlds beyond this or any galaxy!" yelled a voice just ahead that...well, it certainly sounded enthusiastic, but there was a tinge of bitterness behind it. More importantly, Elita recognized the voice from somewhere, and as she moved ahead and through the crowds, she saw the owner and gasped.

"Primus, is that..."

"I believe so, General," Ultra Magnus commented as the rest of the crew caught up, all of them seeing a large Cybertronian, his torso, arms, and legs armored green while his waste was yellow in color. His helm was coated red, face covered by a blue visor and yellow mask.

"What is Cosmos doing here?" Prowl questioned, while Windblade looked between all of them in confusion.

"Who's Cosmo-"

"Behold!" the bot suddenly yelled and gestured behind him, "The cow!"

At his signal, the creatures within the enclosure looked up at the crowd, some of which went "Ooh!" and "Aah!", while most just gave bored stares. Elita herself wasn't sure what to make of these...cows. They were quadrupedal and small, some being black with white splotches of fur, some being purely brown in pigmentation, others having horns but most without. She could say that they were undeniably cute though.

"This bovine species comes from a planet known only as...ugh, Urath! It produces a substance the local organic population calls "malt", and it's known to be quite refreshing. Other than that, they can spit...uh, fire, when threatened and enjoy eating grass. And they...also..." Cosmos started petering off as the crowd lost interest, moving on to other enclosures. He sighed and shook his head, "Yeah, right on time too."

"If it means anything, I thought it was interesting," Elita said in comfort as she stepped forward, her teammates following along.

The minute they neared, Cosmos gasped, "General Elita!" he ran forward and hugged her, "Holy scrap, it's really you!"

"Good to see you too," Elita patted his back as he let go and took in everyone else.

"Lieutenant Ultra Magnus, sir!" Cosmos entered an immediate salute, slipping back into soldier mode as if he'd never left. Elita found it to be a sobering thought, considering why Cosmos left the war to begin with.

I guess no matter how much you try to distance yourself, some things will always stick with you, Elita wondered if it'd be the same thing for her, Optimus, and the rest of the active Autobots when all was said and done. And that was assuming they could topple the madness Megatron created to begin with. Still...

We're gonna try.

Magnus answered with a nod and salute of his own, "As you were, soldier."

"Had no idea you were here," Wheeljack commented, smirking with servos to his hips.

"Wheeljack?" Cosmos asked, getting a nod before the two bots shook servos, "Holy scrap! I haven't seen you since the Scraplet infestation back on Luna-1's base."

"Ha! I remember that. Bulkhead screamed like a newly forged femme."

"Yeah...I uh, I might've also screamed like that."

"Maybe, but I remember Bulkhead's being louder than-"

"Excuse me!" Windblade cut in, getting everyone's attention before balking, "Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt. I'm just kinda lost..."

Elita nodded, realizing introductions were in order, "Sorry about that. Cosmos, this is Windblade. She's among our newest teammates and from Caminus," she turned to the femme in question, "Windblade, this is Cosmos, a former Autobot reconnaissance officer."

"Wait," Cosmos' blinking could be heard from behind his visor, "Caminus is real?"

"Very, and currently under the Decepticons' control," Windblade huffed, but was clearly trying to maintain herself. Elita could understand her plight, given Caminus' recent capture and her previous circumstances. One's home being treated as nothing but a fable after all that would put anyone in a bad mood. Thankfully, even Cosmos took notice, his body language becoming apologetic.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. You didn't know."

"Regardless," Prowl began, shifting the topic, "Cosmos, what exactly are you doing here?"

"As a betting mech, I'm gonna say the place literally reeled you in and stuck you on enclosure duty after the Shannix ran dry, right?" Wheeljack threw out his own guess.

"Eh, kinda-ish? It's a long story," Cosmos gestured to the cow enclosure and began explaining, "See, I was just flying on my way out of this solar system with a bunch of cows I'd taken from a planet called Earth. I was just gonna study them for a bit before bringing them back. Even left an IOU for the locals on these large green fields," he scratched the top of his helm, "Though, I wrote it in old Cybertronian symbols, so I'm not sure they understood it. Honestly, I was so excited to finally have a chance to study an exotic organic species that I tried being fancy about it. Figured it'd make things more...authentic."

"That's pretty understandable," Elita said, recalling the first class she ever taught at the Institute for Higher Programming. She may have tried a bit too hard to be professional about things and made a fool of herself.

"Anyway, when I reached the system's edge, that's when I bumped into the Cosmic Carnival and got taken for a ride. These solar cycles, they like to keep me at the enclosures to take care of and breed the cows I'd borrowed," Cosmo crossed his arms and huffed, "And the worst part is they're forcing me to get the facts wrong and make scrap up! They keep saying it's more "interesting" that way, but this place can seriously get fragged!" he sighed, "Sad thing is, I think I'm the luckiest Autobot here."

"Wait, there are other Autobots trapped here?" Ultra Magnus asked, with Elita and the others equally curious.

Cosmos nodded, "Yeah, there are: Hound, Sunstreaker, Smokescreen, and Sky Lynx. I was the last Autobot to get picked up by this place. Well, until you guys arrived, anyway."

Prowl hummed, "Altogether, that makes the five components of-"

"Yeah, and the minute they saw the five of us in one place, the Coneheads warned the Carnival's owner, Mr. Big Top. They make it a point to keep us far away from each other. I'm not exactly allowed near places like the circus ring or the wrestling arena, and they make sure to keep Smokescreen as far away from the casino as possible," Cosmos' shoulders sagged, a mix of sadness and rage in his voice, "Like I said, I'm the lucky bot. Sure, it's insufferable, but I ain't getting the scrap beaten out of me or being forced to do tricks till I can barely stand."

The more I learn, the more I hate this place...well, more than I already did, Elita glowered, getting a feel for the indignities not only Cosmos and the other Autobots, but the rest of those under forced employment at the Cosmic Carnival suffered. For a short nanoklik, her processor recalled back before the war, when she'd started helping the movement alongside Orion and Megatron. Though she'd never suffered such conditions, she'd made it a point to learn. To ask. To understand.

Bots that she'd once considered friend (or were long since dead) would describe to her what they'd endured. Many spoke of the working conditions they'd hoped to challenge and escape, no longer being bound to a single caste and function. Others would decry how the upper echelons of Cybertron chose to turn a blind optic to such injustices, too caught up in their own decadence to care. She remembered when Megatron took her and Orion to his former prison, the Kaon Pit, for the first time, where he and many of the movement's first followers had been forced to engage in blood sport for the entertainment of Cybertron's crime lords and corrupt authority.

And she remembered the cold, blistering rage he spoke with when discussing it all. That same rage that defined him, that had been there since the beginning, and that was now being directed at everyone and everything he felt was against him. What he chose to do with that rage, and what he'd become, was inexcusable. But Elita understood that the evils which shaped and fueled his wrath were very real.

In many respects, this Cosmic Carnival held many similarities: people forced into harsh roles with no say in the matter, all for the entertainment of an elite that ignored such problems for the sake of indulgence. Elita just hoped that this time, things wouldn't spiral out of control.

Despite their initial plans for escape, she turned to her teammates and sent each of them a look. Ultra Magnus, dutiful soldier she kinda wished he'd stop being half the time, was the first to understand and provide an affirmative nod in kind. Wheeljack smirked and gave a nonchalant shrug, while Prowl's expression conveyed greater reluctance, or at the very least uncertainty. Ultimately, he found himself relenting with a nod of his own, leaving only Windblade.

The Camien, like Prowl, was unsure, though more from clearly not understanding what Elita was conveying. The Autobot leader internally chastised herself, being reminded that Windblade was still new to all this. But before she could be more upfront and explain things in full, something within the young bot's optics seemed to click, shifting towards understanding as her mouth parted just a bit. Not a nanoklik later, her expression shifted to pure determination before providing an agreeing smile.

With everyone onboard, Elita turned to Cosmos and asked, "Is there any way we can help?"

Cosmos looked at her in surprise for a few moments, but he quickly recovered and rubbed the back of his neck in uncertainty, "I don't know, being honest. We've tried getting out before, but that didn't go anywhere. Ugh, if only we could get together, then we could form-" his optics blinked behind his visor, a finger to his chin as he stared at the brown, gravely ground, "Actually, he has a show later, so maybe...if we could all figure out..." he faced Elita and said, "Any chance you can patch me into your comm channel?"

"Magnus?" Elita turned to her second-in-command, who nodded and tapped on his helm to activate his comms. Cosmos tapped his helm too, a loud dinging sound emanating from it before he gave a thumbs up. "Good," she smiled, "You know this place better than we do. Take it you have a plan?"

"Well, more like an idea for...10% of a plan, but it's the best I could think of on short notice," Cosmos explained, "For now, we need to focus on sneaking me, Hound, Smokescreen, and Sunstreaker into Sky Lynx's next show. It's not for another two Mega Cycles, so we gotta be quick about this."

And with those five in the same place- Elita quickly caught onto what Cosmos was going for with wide optics. "I see what you're getting at," Giving a grin, she crossed her arms, "Leave getting them there to us. You just worry about sneaking in yourself," she faced her team, "Listen up, everyone. We're splitting into two teams: Prowl will take Windblade and Wheeljack to find Smokescreen, Sunstreaker, and Hound. Magnus and I will go to where Sky Lynx is and get him up to speed. Who knows? Maybe we'll find an admin switch or terminal along the way." As everyone nodded, she turned back to Cosmos, "Where are the others located?"

"By now, Sky Lynx should be backstage of the circus arena. It's where they keep most of the performers before a show starts. The other three work at "Battle Planet" over in the amusement parks. Should be pretty obvious when you see it."

Nodding, she turned to her team one last time, "Alright everyone, let's roll out!"

"What were they talking about back there? About the plan being to just get the five of them together at the show? You said something about 'components' and I'm wondering what you meant by that."

Prowl looked back to Windblade, who walked just behind him and Wheeljack, and said, "I suppose it would make sense for you not to know about Sky Reign. In any case, the plan is-"

"Actually, Officer, why don't we let this be a surprise?" Wheeljack suggested, much to Prowl's annoyance as they walked through the small crowds of various races, some rivaling them in height while others barely came up to their knees, many of whom seemed to be chatting about something or another.

"Because it's counterproductive to not provide all necessary information."

"Yeah, you're one to talk," Wheeljack muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

"What do you mean by that?" Windblade asked.

So that's where you're going with this, Prowl rolled his optics at the effort to goad him into opening up about his mission. Whether Wheeljack was doing so for his own amusement, out of misguided sympathy and/or empathy, or some nebulous third reason, Prowl didn't know. He'd rely on the others to make his hunt easier, but he'd prefer to keep them as uninvolved as possible. While fine with accepting their support, he was less so with them in direct confrontation with his quarry. Lockdown had already spilled the inner Energon of enough Autobots already.

Rather than take the bait, the Cyber-Ninja huffed, "I suppose it isn't strictly necessary for her to know that particular detail, seeing as we simply need to get them all in one place."

"Nice backpedaling," Wheeljack sarcastically remarked.

"Can't say I like being left in the dark like this," now it was Windblade's turn to huff as she pouted like an impatient youngling.

"Hey, I hear ya kid. But I figured since you haven't been off Caminus before the whole Con invasion, you probably haven't seen some of the things we have," Wheeljack explained, "Something tells me you're gonna like the surprise. And after what happened to your home, you could use a pick me up."

Not sure how that would improve someone's mood, Prowl recalled every time a Gestalt (or Combiner, the two terms were interchangeable, but Prowl preferred the former) formed during the war and, regardless of Autobot or Decepticon, he only ever felt terror. One entering the battlefield often signaled that things were beginning to escalate beyond control. In fact, a particularly nasty bout between Gestalts, being that of the Autobot Superion and Decepticon Menasor, resulted in the city of Tetrahex's complete decimation. Then again, Wheeljack's own perspective was skewed, given how Wreckers thrived in such escalation. He probably simply thought it to be "cool", as the saying went, and expected Windblade to share that feeling.

Prowl didn't share that viewpoint and had a few compunctions with the idea of Gestalts in the first place. He'd been more than relieved when Optimus Prime managed to get the Enigma of Combination off Cybertron and into unknown space where no faction would ever find it. Still, he kept that to himself and would trust Elita's judgement. He just hoped she knew how to keep the resulting Gestalt in check.

As they kept down the path, the crowds grew in size and began to congest the hall as it led to a single, large entryway. Above the entrance read "Cosmicland" in bright, gold-plated letters coated in holographic stars. "In any case, we're here," Prowl said as the three of them followed the crowd and entered the park. Everything from roller coasters to Ferris wheels, to an omnidirectional pendulum, to free fall towers could be seen from where they stood, all set beneath a transparent barrier that revealed countless stars amidst the black void of space. After taking it all in, the Cyber-Ninja hummed, "Now assuming this is the right park, we just have to find Battle Planet. But where would that-"

"You mean the giant globe over there that has "Battle Planet" on it?" Wheeljack snarked, to which Prowl followed where he pointed with an admitted glare until his optics landed on the enormous pitch-black globe on the farthest, right servo corner of the park. The words "Battle Planet", punctuated by clashing fists between them, circled around the globe every five nanokliks.

"That would be it," Prowl said, refusing to think about how he missed that before gesturing for them to follow, "Now let's not waste any time."

The three Autobots (technically two Autobots plus one extra) made their way through the park, passing through crowds big and small that were clamoring to get on the various attractions. Impressively, despite the sheer shiftiness of the environment, the rides were actually built to accommodate the varying sizes of several different species. As the crowds started to slowly grow, Prowl looked back to make sure he didn't lose track of Wheeljack or Windblade. While the Wrecker's optics glazed over everything with mild indifference, the Camien seemed completely awestruck by her surroundings.

"Wow!" she mouthed, barely above a whisper, but Prowl could hear her regardless of the park's hustle and bustle. Wheeljack could too, given how he turned to her with a smirk and servos relaxed behind his head.

"I know, it's impressive and all, but I wouldn't get too amazed," Wheeljack's smile faded as his optics went to a public performance with a gathering of onlookers. They were watching a pair of Urtuskians juggle a series of plasma saws between themselves. The spectacle would've been impressive had Prowl not seen the exhausted, miserable expressions on the jugglers' faces. "Poor saps probably got stuck having to pay off a debt. And they ain't the only ones," the Wrecker commented, pointing out the other employees who seemed equally discontent with what they were doing, some hiding it better than others, "Like I said, place is one giant scam to wring suckers dry and force them to work here. Guy running this place gets free labor while everyone else gets entertainment, and eventually everyone else will just end up joining the circus when they don't get out in time. Starts to become a lot harder to enjoy the place when you know about the seedy underbelly."

"Sorry, it's just...we don't have anything like this back on Caminus," Windblade shyly admitted, leaving Prowl curious as they walked past a pair of Skuxxoids with energy pistols. With the badges and way the two armored reptilians eyed the crowd, it seemed clear they were part of Carnival security. Thankfully, they didn't spare the trio of Cybertronians a glance.

"Really? You didn't have amusement parks?" Wheeljack asked, "Had a few on Velocitron I went to with the Wreckers before the war started. What about you, Officer? Never went, but I heard about Six Lasers Over Cybertron. You ever been there?"

"No. Not for leisure, at least," Prowl replied, recalling that the first and only time he went there was on assignment to track down an operation selling the illegal drug, Crysmagnetal. In the process, he learned that his fellow Security Operations officer, Barricade, was actually in league with the dealer, having helped them evade arrest provided he get a cut of the drugs for himself. Prowl vividly recalled confronting the crooks, only for Barricade to stab him in the back and slap a pair of stasis cuffs on him. He was lucky that his former partner saw fit to finish his deal before attempting to kill him, as it provided the needed time to plan an escape and get them all imprisoned. Too bad Barricade managed to leave prison through a few "connections" of his and get transferred to a different precinct.

Didn't surprise Prowl that he joined the Decepticons. Countless Cybertronian criminals became part of the ever-growing empire. Its ideology granted them the freedom to indulge in their most violent desires with unchecked impunity.

Windblade shook her head, "No. We don't. Caminus doesn't have much in terms of resources, so our entire culture is one of mass energy conservation to maintain ourselves," her tone became rather bitter, "Perhaps that's another reason we fell so quickly."

"Yeesh, sounds like what I read about ol' Nominus's Edict," Wheeljack commented, which drew further confusion from Windblade.

"What's that?"

"Bunch of political scrap that I don't exactly care about, but it was required reading back at the academy. Before I got kicked out, anyway..." Wheeljack grimaced, not really wanting to talk about it before changing subjects, "So Windy, never been to an amusement park, huh?" Windblade shook her head again, "Well, if it means anything, maybe when this is all over, you'll get your chance. These places can be a real blast, at least when you know there isn't a nastier side to them. You up for something like that?"

"Yeah," Windblade smiled, "I think I'd really like to try something like this."

"In any case, it'll have to wait. We're here," Prowl stopped, gesturing for the others to do the same as they all looked up at the Battle Planet entrance. Not wasting anymore time, they entered, following the signs to the attraction's arena, where at the center was a large cage with a three v one match took place. The solo fighter was a lumbering reptilian organic that rivaled Optimus in height. He wore brown boots and trousers held by harnesses connected with metal buckles. Lastly, he had notably crimson eyes (the organic term for optics) with pointed ears and a series of spikes traveling down his back. As for his opponents...

"Looks like we found 'em," Wheeljack stood at Prowl's side with Windblade joining at the opposite. Sure enough, the three Autobots were fending off against the brute with impressive teamwork. He recognized Hound and Smokescreen with ease, given the former's flat helm that matched his green torso plating in color, as well as the black metal of his arms and legs. The latter still had the same red and blue plating from when they'd last met, albeit heavily dented from the current fight (the broken yellow crest on his helm was the most notable of it) and lacking his shoulder cannon, much like how Hound's was also missing.

No doubt to keep their offensive options limited, Prowl mused before taking note of the last among the three Autobots, Sunstreaker, who looked...different. The yellow armor and black helm where the same, as were the twin crests on the helm's sides with yellow grills. But the chassis, hips and legs seemed to have had adjustments made to make them more prominent, with lips now coated similar to the helm. Being able to hear the grunts of the combatants from his current position, Prowl also noted how Sunstreaker's voice seemed lighter and softer compared to previously.

"Huh, seems like Sunstreaker finally found time to make those modifications she wanted. Good for her," Wheeljack commented, allowing Prowl to understand what that meant before chastising himself for the potential insensitivity. Outside Jazz, Master Yoketron, and...Lockdown, he didn't really converse with other Autobots or bother getting to know them. Even before the war and the CNC's destruction, socializing was never his strong suit, so he wasn't aware.

"HRRK!" Smokescreen yelped, having gotten careless in the battle as their opponent grabbed his leg from an attempted dive kick. The large reptile followed it up by smashing him into both Hound and Sunstreaker, knocking them into the cage walls before slamming the poor bot into the floor a few times. With the three Cybertronians struggling to get up, their foe roared and pounded his chest in victory to the adulation of the audience.

"Fragger," Wheeljack growled, a glare on his face that he shared with Windblade, who seemed equally ready to draw her weapons.

"We have to do something!" the Camien took a step forward before Prowl blocked hers and Wheeljack's way forward.

"Look," he pointed to the security detail that came out from behind the bleachers and opened the cage. Among them was an Ilxian, a Skuxxoid, and two Cybertronians who bore the Decepticon sigil on the wings attached to their legs. Prowl narrowed his optics, "Ramjet and Thrust."

"Huh, only ran into Dirge last time. Not surprised the other Coneheads wound up here too," Wheeljack grunted as the Autobots' reptilian opponent, surprisingly, helped his foes up in a gentle manner.

"Who are they?" Windblade asked, watching the security force yell at them to get out of the cage.

"Members of the Seeker Armada, but from the looks of it, they work for the Carnival now," Prowl noted the security badges on their shoulders, which glimmered as they shoved the fighters towards the backstage while the audience dispersed towards the exits. Making a nudging gesture with his head, the three members of the Alpha-5 crew got moving and followed behind the security force as they escorted the fighters away. They kept just close enough to keep them in their line of sights but were far back to the point where they wouldn't draw attention, usually hiding around corners while following.

"Keep moving!" the Ilxian shoved Sunstreaker forward, much to her anger.

"Hey, watch the paint! Bad enough it got fragged to the Pit and back already."

"Sorry," the fighter's organic opponent said, surprising Prowl with how sincere and gentle he sounded.

"It's fine Garnak," Smokescreen said, "Job's a job, sadly. If it means anything, you did pretty well."

"Really?"

Sunstreaker nodded, "Yeah, but seriously, lighten up on next time? Takes a lot of effort for me to look this good."

"Tough slag, Autobot," Thrust sneered, "You three have a job to do, and that's take a dive to make the others look good. Give everyone a good show, and maybe Mr. Big Top will consider your debt settled."

"Yes, we know. Do you remind us because you think we'll forget, or are you so dumb that you have to remind yourself what your job is?" Smokescreen questioningly jabbed. Even though Prowl couldn't see it, he could almost hear his smirk.

"Jokes on you! Our job is to keep you lot in line! Not fight!" Ramjet mocked.

"Good, because you suck at it," Sunstreaker snarked, causing the entire group to stop as the Coneheads began accosting their prisoners.

"What did you say?" Ramjet snarled.

"She said that you'd suck at fi-"

"Shut up, stupid fleshling!" Thrust cut Garnak off with a blaster shot to the face. Windblade gasped while Wheeljack glared, but Prowl maintained his cool, especially upon seeing that the plasma wound was already starting to heal.

Seems this Garnak has quite the healing factor. Fascinating... Prowl assumed it to be a byproduct of his species, though he couldn't say for certain. Organic races always astounded him in what they could accomplish.

"Guys," Hound helped Garnak up, "Maybe we should just get back to our barracks?"

"What? It isn't my fault the Coneheads are more slag than processor," Sunstreaker smirked with condescension at the group of jailers.

"You...ugh! You're lucky I don't hit femmes!" Ramjet started leading the way forward, but then Sunstreaker ran her mouth again with an almost sing-song tone.

"Me neither. ~But for you I'd make an exception!~"

"That's it! You Autobots are dead!" Ramjet tried to rush Sunstreaker, with Thrust attempting the same, but their organic co-workers got in the way to hold them back.

"What is wrong with you idiots!?" the Ilxian yelled.

"If you kill the merchandise, Big Top will have all our heads!" added the Skuxxoid.

"Wow, we feel so loved right now," Smokescreen snarked in an amused, monotone voice as Sunstreaker, Hound, and Garnak moved to his sides. Once more, Prowl could tell he was rolling his optics despite the angle obscuring that fact. Looking to Wheeljack and Windblade, he nodded to them and received affirmation in kind. They had an opportunity, they just had to take it.

"Least they know how much I'm worth," Sunstreaker egotistically added with servos at her hips, much to Hound's frustration.

"Why can't we just end a Solar Cycle without you two trying to start a fight with the Coneheads?"

"I mean, not like things can get any worse, right?" Garnak placated as Hound's servo almost welded itself to his face.

Seeing the guards were distracted trying to fight each other, Prowl rolled out from cover and threw his shuriken at the Seekers, striking them in their chests while Wheeljack transformed into vehicle mode and rammed right into the Ilxian. As he transformed back to deliver an uppercut to the chin, Windblade rushed out with blades at the ready to fight the Skuxxoid while Prowl darted forward alongside her towards the disoriented Coneheads. The Skuxxoid regained his bearings to fire at both of them, only to find his shots blocked by the Camien and dodged by the Cyber-Ninja, the former of which getting close enough to spin kicked him into a wall. Prowl, meanwhile, struck at Ramjet and Thrust's vital points to leave them incapacitated. Regardless of their status as former or active Decepticons, they might have had vital information to gleam, even if they were dumber than sacks of rocks.

As the Alpha-5 members stood over their fallen foes, they heard Garnak say, "Uh, is this better or worse?"

The three turned to the four cage fighters, the Cybetronians among which looked at them with wide optics. Smokescreen was the first to regain his voice, "Are you...am I seeing things or are there other Autobots in front of us right now?"

"HA! In the metal, Smokes," Wheeljack laughed, the cage trio's mood brightening up significantly.

"Never thought I'd be glad to see a Wrecker," Hound said as he walked up and shook Wheeljack's servo.

"Good to see you again, Jack," Sunstreaker chirped with servos behind her head, "Thanks for the save. But for the record, I totally could've handled that."

"Sure," Wheeljack smirked before looking at the only organic among them, "Uh...Garnak, right?"

"Yup! Nice to meet ya!" Garnak reached forward and shook the Wrecker's servo with his hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Garnak!" Windblade greeted with a smile, "My name's Windblade."

As Garnak happily shook Windblade's servo (comically shaking the Camien up and down in the process), Hound looked at her curiously, "Huh, don't remember ever meeting an Autobot like you before. You a new recruit?"

"K-Kinda...I-" Windblade stuttered amidst the daze from Garnak's shaking before regaining herself, "I'm from Caminus."

"...the frag's Caminus?" Sunstreaker asked, tilting her head.

"Long story," Windblade said before Prowl interrupted by hefting one of the Seekers over his shoulder.

"Windblade, why don't you familiarize yourself with them? Wheeljack, help me dispose of these four."

"Whatever you say, Officer," Wheeljack lazily saluted before grabbing the two organics and hefting them over his shoulders. Windblade started chatting with the three formerly caged Autobots as they made their way for the barracks, which only grew more animated the longer it went on. They were out of audio receptor shot upon reaching the barracks, where Prowl found that the security badges doubled as keys for the doors. Opening it, the Cyber-Ninja and Wrecker entered, finding a wall with three flat, metal bunks, each one atop the other and a ladder at the edge. Not hard to surmise whom this room belonged too, given that the three bunks had "Hound", "Smokey", and "Sunny" written on them respectively.

"I'll go get the other Conehead," Wheeljack tossed the guards across the room before walking out, which drew Prowl's attention to the wall the unceremoniously collided with. On it was a series of scratches, mostly in a uniform four lines with a dash through it for the fifth. What startled the former SecOps officer the most was the sheer amount that covered the entire surface before reaching the next wall, then the next, then the next where it ended. But that was only because it devolved into scratches and scribbles before giving way to giant words reading "WHO THE FRAGGING PIT CARES ANYMORE!?", making Prowl wonder which of them wrote it and how long had they all been here. Where the lines a measurement of Solar Cycles? Chords? Stellar Cycles?

This reminds me an awful lot of- Prowl cut off his line of thought as he stared at the Decepticon badge on Ramjet's wing. He'd heard all the rumors about how the Decepticon's began. How their fire, their rage, their drive for "equality" was fueled by the brutality they endured from the Kaon Pit, where its first followers were held. Having been stationed on the opposite side of Cybertron at the time, said rumors were all he had to go off of, but he brushed it off, focusing more on his work in SecOps and his training as a Cyber-Ninja.

Then after the war and...everything, he wondered if they ever cared for the goals they preached so much about to begin with. The Autobots had a few former Decepticons in their ranks who would insist on it, Jetfire and Drift among them, but Prowl couldn't see it that way. He'd seen too many atrocities committed by them, broken into cells like this one to rescue fellow soldiers, only to witness the aftermath to barbaric acts of torment, from Kick-Off getting his T-Cog torn out, to B-127's voice box being ripped right from his throat.

These weren't the acts of a movement seeking freedom, but that of terrorists and hoodlums who were looking for a banner to manipulate others into joining. No different than those he'd been arresting for dozens of Vorns before their very existence. And at the helm was Megatron, a malicious tyrant to his very core no matter what his followers, former or otherwise, insisted. He'd dealt with monsters who hid their true intentions behind a well-crafted, convincing mask.

He'd once been friends with one, after all. But he knew better now.

"Yo, Copper!" Wheeljack broke through his musings as he re-entered the cell, "Got Thrust for the slammer. Tried to see if he had any Con intel on him, but he wasn't carrying anything. On the plus side, it looks like Windy's getting along with the fantastic four." Prowl looked back to face him as he placed the Seeker down, only for the Wrecker's optics to grow curious, maybe even a little concerned, "Something on your mind? Seem pretty antsy."

"Yes, I'm fine. Merely wondering how they managed to persist in these conditions for so long," Prowl said while checking Ramjet for any intel. It wasn't a complete lie, so it would help deflect from his ever-devolving train of thought.

"They had each other. Simple as that," Wheeljack casually said as he looked around the cell, "Probably helped them stay sane. Also probably helps that bad as this place is, it ain't a scratch on Con prisons," his voice had a somber tinge to it, "Just barely got out of Kaon Prison alive. And from what I heard about Grindcore, Kaon's pretty tame by comparison."

Ugh, don't remind me, Prowl shuddered, remembering every detail the Autobot escapee, Skids, relayed about the prison and its former warden, Tarn. Learning about the things done there kept the Cyber-Ninja up at night. Though now that he'd thought about said former warden, the fact that the Coneheads were still alive was baffling, given the DJD's zero tolerance policy towards any form of treachery and their reported knack for being able to locate anyone who turned their back on the cause. Either the Coneheads aboard the carnival had the smallest modicum of competence to have pulled that off, or they somehow bumbled their way into a very lucky scenario.

Either way, Prowl stood up, having finished searching Ramjet and found a data drive, "We'll decode this back on the ship. See if it has anything useful." Wheeljack nodded and stretched as the two walked out, locking the cell behind them. Right as they did so, footsteps came in from the side as they turned to see Windblade, Sunstreaker, Hound, Smokescreen, and Garnak all headed their way. "So," Prowl began as they approached, "I take it you've gotten to know each other."

"Yup! You guys got a spunky femme on your squad. She's definitely going places," Sunstreaker playfully elbowed Windblade, who kept up her smile and scratched her cheek at the praise.

"Thanks. You're pretty cool yourself."

"Yeah! Sunstreaker's the best," Garnak cheered, "Did she tell you about the time she beat an entire Decepticon squad using only a bendy straw?"

"Oh stop!" Sunstreaker proudly smirked, making Prowl roll his optics while Wheeljack looked to be holding back giggles. Good to see that her penchant for self-aggrandizing hadn't gone down in the slightest, and it seemed Garnak had fully bought into that. He sincerely hoped Windblade didn't buy it either.

"Yes. Please stop," Hound cut in with a shake of his head as Smokescreen laughed, "And for the billionth time, that's NOT what happened. Last thing we need is Sunny's ego getting even more inflated," he snapped his head at the still laughing Smokescreen, "And I told you to stop encouraging her!"

"I'll get to that when it stops being funny!" Smokescreen retorted as his laughs died down, only for Wheeljack's laughter to roar out in its place.

"Okay, okay, but seriously, we got the up and up on what you guys are planning," Sunstreaker said, Wheeljack managing to cease his laughter as she became pretty serious, "So, you just got to find a way to sneak us backstage for Sky Lynx's show, right?" She received nods, to which she regained her cocky smirk, "Alright, I think we're picking up what you're putting down."

"Being honest, I don't exactly approve, but it's the best we have on short notice," Prowl crossed his arms, still uneasy about a Gestalt potentially running amok.

"Still wish you'd tell me what's going to happen when we get them there," Windblade kept her tone even, but hints of bitterness slipped out as she gestured to her new friends, "I mean, not even they'd tell me. And they just learned about the plan!"

"Patience kid," Hound patted Windblade's back in understanding, "Believe me, I'd tell you in a sparkbeat, but these two..."

"What can we say? We may be...indentured servants, as Big Top oh so likes to call us, but we're still performers," Smokescreen said.

"And the biggest rule of showbiz?" Sunstreaker eagerly chimed in, "Always save your best trick for last."

"Told ya you're in for a surprise, Windy," Wheeljack smiled at the Camien, who smiled back despite her obvious annoyance.

Hound, meanwhile, sighed, "Let's just focus on getting there."

"Agreed," Prowl nodded as he tapped his comms, "Elita-1 and Ultra Magnus. This is Prowl. Do you read me?"

"This is Elita, and we read you loud and clear, Prowl. We're in the main arena right now and are trying to find a way backstage. We'll let you know when we make contact with Sky Lynx," she turned her commlink off, "Ready Magnus?"

"Affirmative," Ultra Magnus saluted his General, who nodded back as they looked down on the arena from their seats within the stands. The arena itself was currently filled to the brim with workers setting the stage for the big show, which was now in one Mega Cycle. If they were going to retrieve Sky Lynx, they needed a solid opening, and fortune found them in the form of unmanned vehicular drones, all rather multicolored and vibrant, that began to bring materials in and out from backstage for the workers to set up. "General," he pointed this out to them, "Look."

"I see it," General Elita-1 replied as the two started making their way down the stands and as close to the backstage entrance as possible. Watching as the drones went by, they saw a particularly large drone, one that had just deposited a cage containing a creature of some sort, make its way back around. As it neared the entryway to the backstage, he and the General jumped in and transformed into vehicular mode, following closely behind the drone. Thankfully, no one looked their way when they entered, and the drone's large size offered them both a hiding place and vantage point to scope out the area as they traversed.

Within the backstage, there were a number of performers preparing their routines, from a trio of electric energy beings (Kremzeeks, if Ultra Magnus recalled) merging into a giant lightning wheel for animals to jump through, to a rather small organic performing tricks on a cycle with a rocket engine as nearby workers, who addressed him as Rorza, complimented his form. However, there was something Ultra Magnus saw in their...whatever the organic term for optics was. They all seemed drained despite persisting, like none of them wanted to be here. His processor drawing on the closest approximation, the look was something he'd seen (and much to his regret, shared) with many an Autobot, usually after several Chords stuck in a trench whilst trying to survive Decepticon bombardment.

"Magnus!" the General whispered, veering to the left and staying near drone groups headed that way. Ultra Magnus followed, as was his duty, and they soon found themselves in an area backstage filled with cages containing various organic fauna. It was similar to the sideshow from before, only they had less room and moved about more actively, as if in terror or anger. Not to mention that this one had an abundance of guards patrolling the place, making it feel more like a prison than a backstage.

"Ready for your big show, Sky Lynx?"

Sky Lynx? Ultra Magnus froze alongside General Elita as they slowly tried to drive as close to the ensuing conversation as possible without arousing suspicion. Stopping right at an empty cage, they stilled and appeared like shut down drones to the best of their abilities. They saw the quadrupedal, draconic looking Autobot Primitive resting in a massive cage that was still too small for his size, glaring down at the group in front of him.

"Yes, I believe I am, Mr. Big Top," Sky Lynx said, tone even yet having a sense of exhaustion behind it as his shuttle wings lowered in reluctance. Ultra Magnus looked at this "Big Top", and saw that he was surrounded by several guards, one of whom he could recognize as Dirge by his navy-blue armor, black arm cannons, and the yellow wings on his legs and hips. As for Big Top himself, he was a large, green, slug-like organic whose body oozed purple slime and held a brown cy-gar (or at least its organic counterpart) in one of his many tentacles, while another had some sort of golden watch on it.

"Good. We're expectin' quite a turn out, so you gotta be on your a-game," Big Top sounded encouraging, but it was easy to discern how fake it was, "So you better bring somethin' new for the viewers. If I see revenue drop because you're gettin' lazy, then it's comin' outta your pay."

"What pay? We both know I'm not making much. I doubt anyone working here does."

Big Top's voice gained a dangerous edge, pointing at the Primitive with a tentacle that splattered slime on his face, "Watch your tone, Lynx. Remember, you're under contract to work for me until your debt's paid off. Everyone here is, that's just the rules."

"Ah yes, rules. Rules you write in words so small on contracts so skewed in your favor and for people too desperate to say no. What remarkable business acumen you possess. If I could, I'd clap for you."

"Watch your tone, Autobot!" Dirge bashed a fist against the bars of the cage. Sky Lynx didn't seem the least bit threatened, instead lowering his long neck and moving forward to glare at the former Seeker.

"Hold on, Dirge, my boy," Big Top held the seeker back, "Let's not get too hasty. After all, my biggest money maker has a show to put on," he smugly looked up at Sky Lynx, "Doesn't he?" The Autobot said nothing, instead looking away. "Perfect," Big top clapped, "Now, let's go over your routine one last time."

"What happened to wanting something new?"

"Eh, that was then, this is now."

"That was quite literally less than a cycle ago!"

"Either way, we don't want the audience to be too uncomfortable, so let's keep things familiar."

"Prowl, do you read?" General Elita whispered into her comms to everyone connected, "We've located Sky Lynx, but he's surrounded. There are a few guards on him, one being Dirge, and the Carnival owner, Big Top."

"That could spell trouble, especially since we're all on our way to your location now," Prowl replied back, "Any openings so far?"

Ultra Magnus huffed as he watched the slug explain the routine, "No. And with how he seems to enjoy the sound of his own voice, I doubt we'll be given one before the show starts. We have thirty cycles at most now."

"We talking about Big Top or Sky Lynx?" a new voice connected to the comms, easily recognizable to Ultra Magnus as Sunstreaker, joked.

"Oh, like you're one to talk, Sunny," Hound sighed.

"Maybe there's something there to distract him?" Windblade suggested.

"Not seeing anything apparent," General Elita replied, "Hound, Smokescreen, Sunstreaker, what do you know about Big Top that can help?"

At that, Smokescreen began, "Well, is he wearing a golden watch?"

"Yeah."

"That's not really a watch. It actually controls all security on the ship. Drones, putting certain rooms on lockdown, bombs on ships, you name it. In other words, an admin switch."

Looks like we found that, at least, Ultra Magnus mentally filed that detail for later and asked, "Anything else, Smokescreen?"

"Yeah, he's a coward at heart, and he always takes a security team with him. Only time he doesn't have them around is when he's announcing and running the main circus shows like Sky Lynx's. However, he prefers to handle most problems on the ship directly, depending on how severe it is."

"Explains why I never saw him last time the Wreckers were here," Wheeljack chimed in with a laugh, "Must've been too scared to come out of hiding."

"So, if we can cause a big enough distraction, it should draw him away from the arena long enough for us to get to Sky Lynx?" General Elita surmised.

"Just leave that part to us, boss lady," Sunstreaker said with a tone easily recognizable as both smug and headache inducing.

"Sunny," Hound began slowly, "What are you do-"

"Yo Garnack! Wanna help us screw over the big bad boss?" Sunstreaker spoke to someone out of the comms, who was muffled, yet enthusiastic from what could be told, "Great! Now go to the center of Cosmicland and start making some noise!"

There were a few moments of what sounded like stomps, followed by silence as Windblade asked, "Uh, Sunstreaker, what exactly did you mean by 'make some noise?'"

"Agreed, because if it's what I think it is, call him back, now," the General sternly, but calmly, ordered, which Ultra Magnus agreed with. Anything that would bring harm to civilians would most certainly not be tolerated, and he struggled to comprehend how Sunstreaker thought something like that would be a good idea for a distraction.

"Oh relax! Garny won't attack anyone. Trust me. I may hate this place and most of the people here, but I ain't that far gone. Just gotta give him a bit to practice his vocals and he'll have your slug problem solved."

Ultra Magnus could hear the General blink, "Wait, you mean he's going to-"

"-and then you'll-" Big Top's watch made a loud beeping as he let out frustrated grumbles, "Hold on," he pressed it, "Yes, what is it?" Neither Ultra Magnus nor General Elita could make out what was being said from here, but the slug's body language said it all, "Ugh, again!? For the love of-" he seethed for a good few nanokliks before yelling into the watch, "Keep him busy, I'll be there shortly."

"Boss?" Dirge asked as Big Top cut off communication.

"It's that idiot, Garnack. He's singin' in the middle of Cosmicland and drivin' people away! I gotta take care of this before the show," he pointed to the former Seeker, "Dirge, you stay here and keep my prize money maker company. Everyone else is coming with me."

"Sir, is that really necessar-"

"I don't pay you to question me!" Big Top sneered as he and his guards began walking away.

"You hardly pay us at all."

"And just for that, you're fightin' him first if he gets aggressive. Now, as I was..." was all they could hear Big Top say as he left audio receptor shot before Dirge demanded someone call in some security drones to help him monitor Sky Lynx. No one seemed to be listening, so Ultra Magnus and the General took the opportunity and drove over to him, placing themselves at his sides and remaining quiet for a few cycles.

"So..." General Elita started, still remaining in vehicle mode, "How are things?"

Dirge looked at her, "Huh? Oh, they're going great! Life's never been better for me."

"Are they?" Ultra Magnus muttered.

"Yup! After everything with the Decepticons and almost dying more times than I can count, I get to be the one on top here!" Dirge waxed on, "I get all the Energon and Shannix I want, plus the boss lets me wail on these idiots whenever they forget their place."

"Does he now?" the General's tone remained even, but a fury was evident behind it.

"Yeah, like last Chord where I got to electrocute a couple fraggers for whining...on the...job..." Dirge blinked a few times and looked between them, "Wait a minute, since when can you drones talk? This a new upgrade I didn't know abou-"

Without saying a word, General Elita and Ultra Magnus transformed to full height, the former decking Dirge in the face. He stumbled back into Ultra Magnus, who bashed the top of his head in with a hammer fist, knocking him out cold.

"I had a feeling something was off," Sky Lynx approached from within his cage, "Though you two were the last Autobots I expected to get stuck on this blight upon entertainment."

"Good to see you too, Sky Lynx," General Elita greeted while Ultra Magnus searched Dirge's body for any useful Decepticon intelligence. Despite having left the faction, he seemed moronic enough to not throw something like that away.

"You as well, and it's certainly been a long time, Ultra Magnus," Sky Lynx greeted him as he pilfered a data drive from the fallen former Decepticon, "You seem to be doing swimmingly as Miss Elita's First Lieutenant."

"I find the position suits me," Better than Supreme Commander ever did, Ultra Magnus stood up and tried not to bitterly muse on his failings as the former leader of the Autobots. His time in that position had more failures than he could count, and he'd been glad when Optimus took the reigns as Supreme Commander, doing far better than he'd done.

"So, we met your boss," General Elita glared at where Big Top left.

"Quite a piece of work, isn't he?"

"Between the tentacles and conniving nature, he reminds me of the Quintessons," Ultra Magnus noted, briefly reflecting on his first war. His fist clenched as he recalled their Prosecutors brought death and destruction to Cybertron long ago, bringing an end to what'd been considered a golden age of peace and prosperity. The slug running this place was hardly any different than those that'd managed to capture him and the unit he was with, that were killed when Cybertron's then leader, Nova Prime, came to rescue them, and that were held back when Prime stayed behind to let them escape, sacrificing himself in the process as the prison was reduced to smoldering rubble. He felt a servo on his arm and saw Elita look up at him in concern, though her gaze became understanding as he forced the memories back.

"An apt comparison from what I'd read of their invasion, but I doubt you're here to discuss history," Sky Lynx drew their attention, "Would I be correct in assuming you're here to rescue me?"

The General began explaining, "In a sense. We got stuck here, then we heard everything from Cosmos. Now we're here to free you guys, and hopefully everyone else trapped here while we're at it."

"And your current plan involves I and my impeccable sense of magnificence and showmanship?" Sky Lynx preened as both of them rolled their optics, though Elita's was better natured.

"Well, what have we here?" the two high-ranking Autobots turned around to see Wheeljack, Prowl, Windblade, Sunstreaker, Hound, and Smokescreen all walking up to them. The Wrecker looked up at Sky Lynx and smirked, "Good to see you haven't changed a bit, Commander Modesty."

"Unfortunately," Prowl droned, eliciting giggles from Sunstreaker, Smokescreen, and Windblade to a lesser extent. Hound shared in the Cyber-Ninja's annoyance, as did Ultra Magnus. Between Wheeljack's recklessness and the combined egos of both Sunstreaker and Sky Lynx, he was certain the ensuing ache they'd cause his processor would be enough to kill him where Quintessons and Decepticons couldn't.

"And it's good to see you too, old chum," Sky Lynx replied, "But where's Cosmos?"

At that, the General shifted to the comms channel, "Cosmos, you there?"

"On my way to the arena now. I'm sneaking through the ventilation systems. I should get there right before the show starts."

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Windblade asked, "This place is pretty huge. Don't you need a map or something?"

"Nah, I grabbed a map on before I got in," Cosmos answered.

"I'm assuming you're referring to a map of the carnival's interior?" Prowl asked, "That isn't going to help you navigate the-"

"Actually, it will," Smokescreen chimed in, "The maps they give to carnival goers have that too."

"Wait, what?" Wheeljack looked at the rescuees, flabbergasted alongside the rest of the Alpha-5 crew.

"That's because the maps are just the ship's schematics with labels for where the attractions are," Hound explained.

"...I'm sorry, why?" Elita found her voice after a moment's hesitation.

"Probably the same reason why Big Top does everything else he does," Sunstreaker shrugged, "It's cheaper."

Everyone who wasn't a former or current prisoner just stared in bafflement at the sheer stupidity of that design choice. In all his countless Vorns of existence, Ultra Magnus had never once heard of or met someone so idiotic as to broadcast something like that out of sheer laziness and greed. Yet here they were, and it was making him understand how the Coneheads fell into Big Top's employ; they were all on the exact same wavelength of incompetence.

"Ugh, w-what happun last night..." as if on cue, Dirge was slowly beginning to come to, at which point Wheeljack reacted fast and punched his head back into the ground.

"Hey, Windy," Wheeljack hefted the downed seeker to his shoulder, "Help me lock this guy somewhere, would ya?"

"Sure thing," Windblade walked over and hefted Dirge by the opposite shoulder, the two heading off to hide the body.

"Okay, while they're doing that," Elita began as she gathered everyone's attention, specifically looking between the four carnival prisoners, "We'll get to work on the plan," she turned to Smokescreen, "You said that he always announces the circus shows in the arena, yes?"

Smokescreen nodded, "Bingo, and to close them out too. It's also the only time he doesn't have guards surrounding him."

"Perfect," she faced them all again, "In that case, I believe I know how to get the admin switch away from him, but it will require a deterrence, which is where you five come in," she addressed Sunstreaker, Smokescreen, and Hound, "The three of you will hide in the audience with us and jump out when Sky Lynx gives the signal," she then talked directly with Cosmos over the comm link, "Cosmos, make sure you drop in right then, understood?"

"You got it, General Elita!" Cosmos answered back.

"As for the signal itself," she faced Sky Lynx, "It'll have to be when you're finished performing and his guard's down. Think you have one more show in you?"

Sky Lynx scrunched his face in contemplation, "I believe so. And after a long, unappreciated, forced career of entertaining the masses, I think I'd very much like to end it on a high note such as this."

"Same with us," Sunstreaker nodded, her two companions joining in agreement just as Windblade and Wheeljack returned from hiding Dirge's body.

"Take it everyone's ready?" Wheeljack asked, gaining a nod from everyone else.

"However, I should stress that there will be no long ranged weapons or explosives," Elita sternly advised them all, "We'll be surrounded by civilians, so we can't risk doing anything that'd put them in harm's way. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am!" everyone entered a salute as they all stood straight (exception being Sky Lynx and Cosmos, who were respectively incapable of that and not physically present), making the General smile and nod back at them.

"Great, but just in case, we might need a fallback option," she tapped into her comms once more, directly patching them into the Alpha-5, "Fixit, this is Elita-1, do you read?"

"Yup! Read you lou-lou-loud and clear, boss!"

"Good to hear. How's Jetfire doing?"

Fixit hummed, "Let me guess. Emergency backup?"

"Yeah," Elita smiled, "Emergency backup."

Windblade drummed her fingers against her knees as she sat in the stands and awaited the beginning of the show. At the moment, she and the others had on large cloaks (borrowed from the arena's backstage) that covered every inch of their mechanical forms, so as not to let any potential circus security know that there were escapees from Battle Planet among the crowd. Despite reassurances from everyone, Elita especially, the Camien still couldn't shake her nervous anticipation at the upcoming events.

Sure, Elita made sure to keep her in the know regarding every detail of the plan, but it was that final piece that Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, and Smokescreen insisted on hiding that bugged her. The most Windblade knew was that the five carnival Autobots were to be the "big gun", as Wheeljack so eloquently put it; to intimidate Big Top and any potential guards into submission so they could take the admin switch and go. Sounded simple enough, yet she couldn't shake her nerves. She'd never been in situations like this until very recently, and it left her wondering if she'd ever get used to them.

Keep it together. Like it or not, you're gonna have to, Windblade tried her best to still her drumming fingers. Was this what the others felt? This anticipation for something to go right or wrong? She hadn't had time to think about it back on the prison barge, but that was because there wasn't any time at all.

"Ladies and Gentlethings, creatures of all ages!" the giant slug, Mr. Big Top, according to the others, made his way to the massive arena's center ring, voice projected to reach across the entire audience, "I welcome all of you to the crown jewel of the Cosmic Carnival: The Grande Spectacular!" The crowd roared in excitement as he continued, "Now, to get our show started, please look up above, and feast your eyes, optics, or whatever you have on the cage above!" Everyone's gaze shifted upward to just that, the spotlights shining on it as its captive's metal shimmered, "Behold, the pride and joy of my show, I give you all, the magnificent metal master of death-defying, high-altitude acrobatics...SKY LYNX!"

Upon the name being spoken, music played as the bottom of the cage opened up, letting Sky Lynx fall and plummet to the ground. The crowds gasped in shock, and Windblade would admit that, with the speed at which he fell, she did too. But the other Autobots didn't, instead calmly watching the show and following his descent. She was quick to understand why, as right before he hit the ground, he transformed, shifting into a spaceship that zoomed just a single mechanometer above the ground.

"Show off," Hound grumbled, Prowl nodding in agreement as Sky Lynx increased in altitude, flying in dazzling circles over the awed crowd. Even Windblade couldn't help but get swept up in the excitement of the display, watching the Autobot perform all sorts of spins, rolls, and tricks that were especially impressive for his large frame. As he did this, a series of platforms lowered themselves from the ceiling alongside several large hoops. Taking that as his cue, Sky Lynx circled around the stands one final time, lowering himself and slowing down just enough that members of the crowd could graze a servo (or the organic version) against his wings before swiftly approaching the first of the hoops.

With a sudden spin, he launched the cargo pod into the air, where it spun several times as he flew through the first hoop. Then he transformed, his appearance now resembling a wyvern, and as the cargo pod approached the nearest midair platform, it transformed as well, shifting into a large, mechanical feline. Windblade and the audience gasped in astoundment as the two performed side-by-side, separate, yet acting as one whilst respectively leaping across platforms and flying through hoops. Never in her life had she seen a Cybertronian that could separate like this, nor had she ever seen one perform such intricate, complex aerial movements. She knew for a fact that she'd never be able to do such things, nor had she seen any of her friends growing up accomplish anything close, and Aileron had certainly tried.

"Cosmos, you there?" Elita contacted the missing Autobot on the commlink right as the transformed cargo pod leapt off the final platform with a somersault.

"Read you loud and clear!" Cosmos answered, the huge robo-feline performing flips as it plummeted. Just as it neared the ground, Sky Lynx's wyvern half caught it on his back, Big Top throwing several large balls upward, which the two-in-one combo caught with ease.

"It looks like Sky Lynx's part is starting to wrap up," Elita explained as Sky Lynx flew around the crowds again, this time with his cargo carrier juggling the balls with all four legs, back against the wyvern as the speed picked up, "Where are you?"

"I'm in the shafts just above the arena. Waiting for Sky Lynx to give the signal," Cosmos explained just in the nick of time too, as Sky Lynx flew above the center ring, aerial half throwing the cargo pod and balls high into the air. With one final spin, he caught the feline on his underbelly and fully transformed back into his draconic mode before catching the balls, balancing them on the tip of his nose. The music ceased, letting the crowd roar in applause as Windblade found herself standing, joining in the adulation with exuberant claps. Yes, she was aware that, given the seediness and what everyone was going through, it was ill advised to cheer for the show, but she couldn't help it. She'd never gotten to experience something like this before and let it wash over her.

Plus, the show was calming her neural net about the upcoming plan and helped take her processer off what happened on Caminus, if only momentarily, so she'd embrace it for now.

"The magnificent Sky Lynx, everyone!" Big Top declared as the crowd's roars slowed down, "Now, for our next event-"

But before he could continue, Sky Lynx asked, "Excuse me, my good sir, but before we continue, may I say a few words to thank the audience?"

Big Top seemed apprehensive (and annoyed) by the very idea, but he ultimately shrugged, "Sure, but make it snappy."

"He's about to give the signal," Elita reminded, "Get ready, everyone."

"Now, I'm grateful to have such a massive, excited audience for my performances each and every time I come out. If all of you will permit me some ego, I'd like to believe that I am the best part of this show in your most humble opinions, yes?" Sky Lynx's rhetorical question was met with a wave of giggles from the audience. Even amongst the Autobots, Windblade lightly giggled while Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, and Smokescreen were struggling to stifle laughs. "I rest my case," he said confidently, "But despite it all, I'll admit that it can be rather stifling. And I'm certain my fellow performers understand that sentiment rather well." Windblade could see Hound, Sunstreaker, and Smokescreen nod from behind their hoods, all while Big Top started to look rather nervous as Sky Lynx turned to him, "So, Mr. Big Top, I must thank you for this opportunity, not just for my time on stage, but for the chance to finally say, from the bottom of my spark..."

Right on cue, a ventilation cover fell from high above and slammed on Big Top's head, dazing him for a spell as Cosmos flew down. In a spaceship form of his own, he circled around a few times before landing just beside Sky Lynx. The two Autobots stood proud and tall as the Battle Planet trio took that as their cue and jumped into the arena, ditching their cloaks and transforming. They drove to the center ring, much to the bewilderment of the crowd, and as Big Top slowly tried to back away...

"WE QUIT!"

"Everyone, now!" Elita ordered as they all leapt in and transformed, surrounding Big Top as he attempted to escape. Pointing their weapons at him, Windblade heard behind her what sounded like metal uniting with metal. Curiosity getting the better of her, she turned her head while keeping blades pointed at the carnival owner, only for her arms to go slack as she fully faced what was forming.

Sunstreaker and Smokescreen's bodies became powerful legs that attached themselves to Sky Lynx, whose own body morphed into what looked like a massive torso as the shuttle and cargo pod merged completely. Smokescreen and Hound, however, shifted into equally strong arms that connected to the now looming figure. The feline head of Sky Lynx's cargo carrier popped out from the top of the torso, forming a snarling head that looked down on all as the five fully became one.

T-They...they've become a...

"Oh... it. Is. GOOD TO BE BACK!" They stretched and posed, servos in the air as they introduced themself, "Hello Cosmic Carnival! Sky Reign's here to make their grand debut!"

Windblade was silent, the crowd was silent, and Big Top was silent. The only ones moving were Sky Reign and the rest of the Alpha-5. But then...

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Windblade all but squealed from pure joy, having finally processed what she'd just witnessed, "You guys-You all just..." she turned back to the others, servo still pointing at Sky Reign, "They're a Combiner! There's an actual Combiner standing right in front of us!"

"Told ya you were in for a surprise," Wheeljack cheekily said, cannon still aimed at their quarry as he smiled at the excited Windblade.

"Heh! Thank you kindly, little lady! Always pleased to meet a fan," Sky Reign knelt down and offered a finger from their left servo, which Windblade exuberantly shook.

"This is so amazing!" Windblade cheered, looking up to Sky Reign in awe, "I never thought I'd get to meet an actual Combiner!" she gasped, "I have so many questions! When did you first make Contact with the Enigma? What was it like? Are there more Combiners? How often do you form? Are there any side effects to merging or-"

"Windblade!" Elita gently chided, reminding her of their quivering quarry, "Focus now, fangirl later."

Feeling the inner Energon in her face heat up, Windblade aimed her blades at Big Top once more and stuttered, "R-Right, sorry!"

"Yes, please refrain from further inflating the Gestalt's already needlessly inflated sense of self-importance," Prowl drawled, refusing to take his optics or shuriken off the large slug. Windblade was a little shocked at how disinterested (borderline disdainful) Prowl seemed to be about Sky Reign's presence. Shaking her head of that for now, she focused back on Big Top, who was balking like crazy.

"We're giving you this chance," Ultra Magnus glared, a massive war hammer in his servos that crackled with electricity, "Surrender. Release all those you've locked into your service, as well as all ships you've trapped here, and that will be the end of it."

"Interestin' offer," Big Top sneered, slowly sounding more confident as he went along, "Too bad you might've overplayed your hand. NOW!"

A sudden blast struck Sky Reign, making him stumble backward as smoke and dirt rose up, shrapnel flying everywhere. Windblade covered her optics, unable to see anything through the dusty cloud aside from the outlines of Big Top and her friends. Countless stomps, whirring noises, and guns being primes were heard in the background alongside a loud coughing from some of the audience, however, and as soon as the dust settled, they found themselves surrounded by dozens upon dozens of guards and drones from every possible angle. All of them were armed with large cannons, most of their sights aimed at Sky Reign, but plenty aimed at the Alpha-5 team too. As Windblade nervously looked around, her hopes began to dim while Big Top cruelly smirked.

"After I figured out that I had a Combiner, you think I'd be dumb enough not to prepare for this?"

"I mean, if you're dumb enough to turn schematics into maps..." Wheeljack pointed out.

"Bought these beauties from a Decepticon like the Cone boys," Big Top continued, clearly not listening, "Fella by the name of Swindle. They fetched a pretty Shannix, and he almost managed to dupe me a few times with defective ones, but I got the real deal outta him. They'll keep your little Combiner friend occupied. Now for my counteroffer," he sneered at them, "From now on, all of you work for me, and you'll keep workin' for me until you break down and I can sell ya for scrap metal!"

Windblade glared alongside everyone else, servos shaking slightly at the turn of events, before she heard Elita, still in a fighting stance, retort, "Mr. Big Top, you seem like a reasonable enough being," there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice that Big Top, as evident by his preening, didn't hear, "So tell me, is that really what you want?" Elita gestured to their surroundings, from the arena itself to the crowd of innocents, "What you're considering will cause a lot of collateral damage and hurt these people."

"What, you honestly expect me to believe you'll order that combined freak of nature to attack?" Big Top asked, Sky Reign bristling at the insult as they drew a massive saber, but held their position while carnival security started to twitch, "I know you bleedin' heart types. You ain't gonna pull the trigger. Too soft for your own good. And what makes you think I care about my audience anyway?" the question elicited shock from a number of his security forces. Even the crowd clearly heard, as Windblade could hear disbelief and panic ripple across them, "Seems I have all the advantages."

Windblade watched as Elita's optics narrowed in a struggle to find an answer. For the briefest nanoklik, it seemed like she was actually going to pull out her blaster and shoot the slug in his slimy, conniving face. Instead, she closed her optics, sighed, and just as quickly opened them, calming herself in reminder of their current predicament. The Camien wondered what else ran through her processor, but she wouldn't be allowed to dwell on that for too long as Elita stared their enemy in the face and, with a tranquil glare, spoke.

"Seems that way, except for one thing: you'll damage your profits in doing so," Elita's response was met with surprise from Big Top, followed by contemplation as she continued, "The dead can't pay you, and the injured can, and will, ensure that no one comes here again. That's your best outcome, while your worst is physical retribution from them, and since everyone's already trapped here, you have nowhere to run." Elita kept her gauntlets on, but now stood in a more placating manner, "Neither of us want a fight to start, both for our own reasons. So please, stand down before we all regret it."

Big Top continued to think about it. For a few nanokliks, it even seemed like he was considering Elita's proposal...

But then his smirk returned, "Eh, ma and pa always had a sayin': 'A sucker born every second.' I can always get a new audience," he sneered, "Open fire!"

Elita gritted her teeth and retook her fighting stance, everyone else ready to move as the crowd started screaming. The drones began charging up their blasters while the guards' fingers nervously twitched on their cannon triggers, unsure whether or not to fire. Then a blast rang through the air that made impact far above as metal screeched and tore. Everyone looked up just in time to see Sky Lynx's open cage plummet to the ground, Big Top only being able to panic and cry as it landed right on him.

His tentacle didn't retract in time, however, and was quickly severed and sent flying into the air. Wheeljack was the first to react, leaping high enough to catch it as he started tinkering, shutting down the drones before they could fire. One by one, they started short-circuiting and shutting down, leaving everyone, from guards to audience to Autobot, a combination of relieved and confused.

"Sorry we're late. Hit a little traffic," a familiar, accented voice called from a distance. They all turned, crowd of guards parting to reveal-

"Jetfire!" Windblade gasped, wings extending from her back as rotors spun, sending her flying forwards. The instant she reached her fully repaired friend, she enveloped him in the biggest, strongest hug she could muster, "You're back!"

He patted her back and returned the hug, "Good to see you too, Windblade."

"Hey, what am I? Cho-Cho-Chopped kibble?" Fixit asked in amusement as he jumped down from Jetfire's shoulder. Windblade released the large Autobot and hugged the Mini-Con, who gladly returned the gesture. After several moments, she released him and they returned to the rest of the Alpha-5, the security forces allowing them to walk by. From lingering confusion or fear, Windblade wasn't sure.

"Sky Reign," Jetfire greeted with a nod.

"Commander Jets," the Combiner greeted back with a nod of their own.

"Hehehe, o-okay, soooo..." Big Top squirmed in his cage, suddenly looking rather small, "I-I know I said some things, but-" he was cut off by a barrage of glares from everyone. The only exception was Wheeljack, who was still messing with the watch as a holo-screen displayed over it, all while the captured carnival owner tried again, "But I think we can still work out a deal that benefits all of us."

"Oof. Tough luck, but to quote a miserable old slug, it looks like we have all the advantages," Sky Reign haughtily said.

"I-I'm still your boss! You have to do as I say! Now let me out of-"

"Wheeljack, have you figured it out yet?" Elita asked, cutting off Big Top again.

"Almost, aaaaand DONE!" Wheeljack smirked as the holo-screen flashed a few times and displayed something Windblade couldn't see from her current angle.

"What did you do?" she walked over to get a better look, seeing the screen flash "ALL DATA ERASED."

"I just deleted every single contract ol' Toppy here had," Wheeljack answered proudly, much to Big Top's horror. All the security forces looked between each other before, one after the other, they dropped or threw away their weapons, leashes having effectively been severed.

"Y-You didn't-"

"And also..." the Wrecker tapped a few keys on the holo-screen again until it read, "DEACTIVATED. ALL CLAMPS UNLOCKED." and smirked at the slug, "I just shut down all the bombs on every single ship here, including the ones you were selling."

"This is why having everything accessible from such a small, easily stealable device is utterly moronic," Ultra Magnus said in a matter-of-fact tone, sounding almost disappointed by the sheer stupidity of the decision. The knowledge that they could now leave caused the pace at which the workers were already leaving to increase immensely. Big Top could do nothing but squirm and shrink as he was left to his fate.

"If nothing else, it certainly makes things easier for us," Prowl shrugged while Wheeljack finished doing a few more things on the admin device.

"Hey Sky Reign!" Wheeljack threw the watch into the air, "Want to do the honors?"

"Gladly!" Sky Reign easily caught the device and squeezed hard, opening to reveal nothing but dust and small splinters of glass that fell to the ground. Upon clapping their servos of what little remained, a lighter series of claps could be heard from part of the audience. All members of the Alpha-5 team watched as it slowly evolved into a chorus, everyone in the audience clapping and cheering for them. Sky Reign was the first to recover from the sudden shift in mood, basking in the adulation as they bowed, "Thank you, Cosmic Carnival! Thank you and goodnight!"

"Ugh, why?" Prowl grumbled, still annoyed by the Combiner's antics. Ultra Magnus shared in it, judging by how he pinched the bridge of his nose. Windblade couldn't help but giggle at them, though. She wasn't alone on that front either, if the laughs from the rest of her teammates was any indication.

"Officer, you really need to lighten up," Wheeljack nudged Prowl's shoulder before stepping up and facing the audience with a bow of his own, "Thank you and goodnight, everyone!"

Elita stepped up with a playful smile, much to Magnus' bewilderment, "General?"

"Can't be all scowls and business all the time, Magnus. Just have a little fun," Elita said, turning to the crowd and giving a flourishing bow. Jetfire soon followed, standing beside her and giving a bow and thanks of his own. Fixit and Windblade weren't too far behind, bowing in kind. After that, even Prowl and Ultra Magnus finally joined in, though they were incredibly stiff when it came to bowing. But as they all stood tall, side by side with Sky Reign just behind them, Windblade swore she saw small, if awkward smiles on the both of them.

Unable to help her grin, she and the others all bowed to the audience one last time before making their exit, a certain pep in her step from all the excitement.

Jetfire couldn't help but muse over the blur of events that had happened since he recovered. While Fixit was getting him up to speed on where they were and what was going on, the sudden call from General Elita-1 sprung him into action. Took a bit of flying around to figure out where to go, but he and Fixit got pointed in the right direction by a kind organic named Garnak after saving him from some rather violent security, mostly comprised of mechanical life forms that kept calling their victim "braindead organic scum" among other things. While glad to save him, Jetfire did have to wince when he first laid optics on the scene, as it was a little too reminiscent of times where, before the war, he'd stumble upon his fellow movement members getting beaten in the streets of lower Iacon for protesting the system. And that was before his mind went further ahead to during the war in cities under the Decepticon banner, where the same thing happened, only now it was them delivering such brutality to any who protested against their system.

He could see in Fixit's optics that it gave the Mini-Con unpleasant memories too, and the way he scratched at his throat made it clear what memories those were.

Thankfully, everything after rescuing his teammates from the arena helped pick his mood up. He smiled while watching Windblade gush over how incredible it was to witness a Combiner, the Camien asking the five newly released Carnival Autobots several questions at light speed. Jetfire couldn't help but chuckle alongside Smokescreen at how Hound shook his head, mostly thanks to Sunstreaker and Sky Lynx, lovable narcissists that they were, answering all her questions with the expected level of embellishment involved about both Sky Reign's and their own accomplishments. The whole thing reminded him a lot of the aftermath of Superion's first formation, where five of his Aerialbots (Silverbolt, Air Raid, Fireflight, Skydive, and Slingshot) were bombarded with questions from scientists and the top brass about the experience. Though Windblade's genuine enthusiasm lacing her curiosity was a lot more endearing than the rigid, analytic data gathering from back then.

While that was going on, Cosmos got his cows (Jetfire thought they were rather ugly looking, being honest) out of their enclosure before everyone else shoved the defiant Big Top inside. By the time they left, a crowd was already gathering to take pictures of the petulant, sleazy con artist. And that led to here, with all the Autobots at the docking bay, members of the Alpha-5 at the bottom of the ship's ramp and facing the five Carnival Bots.

"Are you sure the five of you don't want to tag along?" Elita asked, "There's plenty of room, and with where we're headed, any helping servo's always welcome."

Jetfire could tell Cosmos was smiling behind his mask, "Thanks, but I don't think I'm ready to rejoin the fight just yet. Something tells me I'll have to at some point, but until then..." he went quiet for a few brief moments, shaking his head, "Besides, I kinda gotta look after my cows now. Doubt I can return them to the owners since they're not even the same ones."

Jetfire nodded alongside Elita, Windblade, Fixit, and Wheeljack. Prowl said nothing, though he did cross his arms like the aloof Cyber-Ninja he tended to be, and Ultra Magnus looked rather conflicted. The Aerialbot Commander supposed he understood why, given Ultra Magnus' war-focused, all servos on deck mentality that dictated many of his actions. Far as he knew, the old bot had always been a soldier and knew nothing else. But despite that, the former Supreme Commander relented and gave Cosmos a stiff, if honest nod, "We understand, sol...Cosmos."

Based on his posture, Cosmos smiled even brighter as he gave Ultra Magnus a salute, who returned the gesture. Sunstreaker then grabbed him and Smokescreen, one arm draped over each of their shoulders, as she said, "And as much as I hate this slag forsaken dump of a vacation spot, I hate breaking up a set even more. I'll be sticking with these guys." She let go of their shoulders and rubbed the back of her head, "Besides, with Big Top locked up, someone's gotta clean up this whole mess. We'll handle that while you do your own thing."

Understandable, and frankly, I'd probably do the same thing, Jetfire recalled how, after Big Top's capture, so many of his workers started leaving that all the ships he'd been selling back got taken pretty quickly, leaving the rest stuck here. They'd had to fend off a few eager thieves from stealing the Alpha-5, with Sky Reign forming again to tell them it was off-limits. Though even then, Jetfire couldn't exactly blame them, desperate as they were to leave.

To top it off, word spread of the arena incident and now so many of the carnival's previous guests were leaving in droves, adding to the current chaos. Between them, those still stuck here, and those who'd been trapped for too long and weren't sure how to leave, it was a mess, to put it mildly.

"I wish we could stay to help, but..." Windblade went quiet, obviously recalling her home. Jetfire placed a hand to her shoulder, placating the young bot.

Meanwhile, Hound sighed, "Honestly, much as I would like to tag along with you guys," he gestured to Sunstreaker and Sky Lynx, "Someone's gotta keep these two in check. And it sure as the Pit won't be Smokescreen."

"Don't pretend it ain't part of our charm," Sunstreaker wrapped an arm around Hound's shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from Smokescreen.

"She's right, it is."

Hound facepalmed as Sunstreaker released him, "Primus, I've got my work cut out for me with all three of you."

"Eh, it's honestly Sky Lynx you gotta worry about," Smokescreen pounded a fist against the giant Primitive's chassis.

"What can I say?" Sky Lynx preened, "Bots of my standard are quite high maintenance, and I do mean that both figuratively and literally."

"Gee, hadn't noticed," Prowl droned with a roll of his optics.

"Hey guys!" Garnak's voice rang out from far behind them, everyone turning to see the large reptilian run up, "The other Battle Planet fighters are throwing a party to celebrate Big Top going down! Wanna join?"

"HA! As if a party can truly begin without me," Sky Lynx was the first to turn and join Garnak, but not before bidding the Alpha-5 one final farewell and a good luck.

"Sure, I'll join. Sounds like a blast," Smokescreen started after them before turning back to them, "You comin' or what?"

"In a nanoklik!" Sunstreaker replied while Hound shrugged.

"Eh, I-I don't know," Cosmos pressed his fingers together, "Never been the partying type."

Smokescreen playfully smirked and walked away, "That's fine. I'll just go make sure Garnak doesn't accidentally cook up one of your cows at the party thinking they're food. Anyway, good luck and goodbye, everyone!"

Cosmos gasped and started running after him, "Nononononono! Wait for me!"

As he left, everyone couldn't help but chuckle, with Sunstreaker and Wheeljack letting out loud guffaws. The former finally managed to calm down and wipe away at her optic, "Classic Smokescreen." Sunstreaker stretched and followed after in a relaxed walk, "I gotta go. Can't let them have all the fun."

"And I'm gonna make sure you don't do something stupid," Hound said, now in lockstep with Sunstreaker as he waved goodbye to the Alpha-5. Jetfire watched Elita smile, and smiled in kind as they started making their way aboard the ship together.

"Yo, kid!"

"Hmm?" Windblade stopped, prompting Jetfire and Elita to do the same as the rest continued into the ship. They turned and saw Sunstreaker facing them, servos rested behind her head while a relaxed, yet reassuring smile remained affixed to her face. Hound stood alongside her with the same expression.

"Don't worry too much about Caminus. Not a whole lot you can do about that right now, so dwelling on it won't help," she said, tilting her head ever so slightly, "Besides, knowing the bots you're with, I'd say you're all in good servos," she gave the three of them a thumbs up, "Now go kick some Con tailpipe!"

At the encouragement, Windblade's own face dawned a warm smile as she returned the gesture. With a warmth in all their Sparks, the three entered the Alpha-5 and headed for the ship's main bridge, where Ultra Magnus awaited with Fixit, Prowl, and Wheeljack. Everyone now aboard, Elita activated the ship's engines and took off, leaving the Cosmic Carnival, and their Autobot friends, behind to their own devices.

Once they were back on track towards the nearest Space Bridge, Ultra Magnus stood up alongside Prowl, the two leaving to decipher the Decepticon data drives they pilfered from Dirge and Ramjet. Wheeljack, meanwhile, said he wanted to make some modifications to his personal ship, the Jackhammer, and left for the Alpha-5's docking bay. This left Elita, Jetfire, Windblade, and Fixit on the ship's bridge as they flew onwards.

"Hey, Elita?" Windblade's voice cut through the silence as everyone turned to her, "Can we talk now?"

"Sure," Elita said, though Jetfire could hear a lot of trepidation in her tone. She looked to him and asked, "Think you and Fixit could give us some room to talk? We're gonna need it."

Jetfire didn't like the sound of that, and looking between the two, the topic seemed like a heavy one. Still, he respected their wishes and stood up, nodding as he and Fixit headed out. "Come on," Fixit took point once they were in the hallways, "Better do one final check-up-up-up just in ca-ca-case."

"Sounds good," Jetfire nodded, but not before looking back at the bridge entrance in worry. Part of him wanted to go back and see what this was about, but he decided against it. Trusting Elita's judgement, he sighed and continued after Fixit to the medical bay.

Whatever it was they were discussing, he was sure things would be alright in the end.

Chapter Text

"You were about to tell me why Megatronus Prime is called 'The Fallen' on Cybertron?"

"Yeah, you may want to sit down for this," Elita gestured to the seat next to hers, Windblade taking it as she continued, "Where would you like to start?"

Drumming her fingers against her kneecaps, Windblade replied, "I think just answering my question for now will work."

"Okay, but it's…" Elita sighed, "It's complicated. Odds are, you're going to be left with even more questions."

"If I have any more, I'll ask," Windblade tried not to let it show, but she was starting to get huffy. It felt like Elita was stalling, and on some level, she almost wanted her to. Elita sighed one more time, looking Windblade straight in the optic.

"It was an event known as 'The War of the Primes'."

Windblade felt her Spark sink a bit, "War of the… you mean the Primes fought each other?"

Elita shook her head, "Not quite. Like I said, there's a lot of complicated components to the whole story. See, there was a… schism, shall we say, between members of the Thirteen that remained on Cybertron. The likes of Quintus and Alchemist having left by that point while Onyx was long since exiled along with his Titan. And Vector?" She looked down to the bridge's floor, "No one knows what became of him. All history tells us is that he left Cybertron with his Titan and never returned."

The sinking feeling ever increasing as Elita went quiet, Windblade wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. She was still trying to process what was just said when the Alpha-5's leader continued, "As for the infighting, it was always the worst with Prima and Megatronus. From everything we know, those two were at each other's throats long before the war ever came close to starting. But things were getting worse, so Trinitus and Autonomous stepped in with a deal."

"Wait, who's Autonomous?" Windblade's asked before just as quickly realizing the answer, "He's the Thirteenth Prime!? The Prime of Hope!? The name lost to history is Autonomous!?"

"What do you mean by lo-OH!" Elita blinked, unable to help smile at Windblade's obvious excitement, "I take it that isn't something Caminus knows about, huh?"

Windblade giddily shook her head, now filled with several other questions about the Thirteenth. She wanted to start with what he was like, seeing as Caminus knew so little about him while Cybertron seemed to know so much more. Perhaps even ask for a description as well? Did Solus Prime forge a legendary artifact for him too? What role did he play in the defeat of Unicron? What was the name of his Titan? Did he have his own colony world, or was he like Onyx, Maximus, and Vector in that he never felt the need to go out and claim an uninhabited planet for himself?

But in remembering Onyx, she remembered why she was here and found herself wondering on some of the other things Elita mentioned. Why did Alchemist and Quintus leave Cybertron? What was all this infighting about? Was it due to Onyx's banishment? Why was he banished to begin with? What could he have done that was so horrible to justify it? He was a Prime! Could they really do such things?

"What deal did Trinitus and the Thirte… uh, and Autonomous propose?" Windblade finally found a question she could vocalize after calming down. She watched as Elita's expression grew solemn.

"Mutually assured destruction. They proposed that to maintain peace and protect Cybertron, they table any and all current problems with one another, everyone focusing on their portion of the world as they divided into tribes. But in agreeing, it meant they weren't to attack each other no matter what. Should this oath be broken and Prime fought Prime, the rest of them were honor bound to stand against the attacker. To declare war against one Prime was to declare war on them all. Despite what had come before, the two of them hoped that the love they all shared as siblings would be enough to sway them against the very notion of breaking that oath. They were wrong."

Windblade gasped, unable to fathom how that was even possible. Caminus' history and legends spoke of the Primes and their bond, it being unbreakable. It was that very same unity that brought Unicron to heel and established the beginning of all Cybertronian civilization. But with everything she'd been hearing so far…

"So… that means Megatronus…"

Elita nodded, "Yeah, he broke the oath and gathered his armies on Tsiehshi, fully prepared to wage war with all of the Primes. He started conquering what would become known as the Darklands, increasing the strength of his forces before launching a full-scale assault on the Crystal City. From there, the Primes met in battle."

"… w-what happened next?" Windblade lifted her knees into her seat, resting her chin against them. She hugged her legs against her chest in a desperate bid to calm her nerves. On some level, she had a gut feeling what the answer was, but she hoped against hope that it wasn't the case.

"… Nexus was the first to fall. Obliterated by a point-blank shot from the Requiem Blaster. Nothing remained, not even a single atom," Elita finally answered, causing Windblade to gasp once more. "Then Amalgamous fell at Megatronus' servos not long after, and Micronus Prime was torn to shreds. It was then and there that the twelfth Prime had truly fallen, and so it became his name."

Another silence followed, the Camien desperately hoping that this was all some sick, unfunny joke and that Elita would tell her the real story. But it never came, and the look in Elita's optics said it all. Gulping, Windblade began staring at the ceiling of the bridge in an effort understand, to reconcile what Elita had told her with what she'd grown up knowing, and it left her wondering on what else Caminus didn't know.

Their histories said how Prima himself came to their world aboard the Titan, Emissary, and how he called upon all City Speakers for aid against a new threat. If the Primes had been waging war with each other, was that why he'd called them? Elita didn't mention anything about the Titans, and that was the only reason Windblade could think of for why Prima needed them. But at the same time, if Fixit's earlier statements were any indication, then Megatron's reason for invading her home was to gather City Speakers for himself, as he couldn't command Titans without any.

And that can only mean the City Speakers Prima took with him are long since dead, and that the Titans are somehow dormant, Windblade felt her worries grow with each passing nano-klik. She had no way to tell when the war happened, but if it was the calamity spoken of… But what if it wasn't? What if the reason Prima took the City Speakers was something far more- Windblade clutched at the sides of her head, Dammit! Just one conversation and I'm thinking the worst of the Prime of Justice! You'd never think so lowly of Solus, would you!? Her optics snapped open, But… couldn't she also have done something like…

After all, Megatronus became "The Fallen", killing his own kin. If one Prime had such darkness in their Spark, couldn't all of them? Were all the Primes not what she and Caminus thought they were? Had their gods truly abandoned them?

"Windblade?" Elita's voice reached her, and she looked down to see the concerned Autobot leader, "Do you need a bit?" The Camien couldn't even bring herself to answer, instead just getting up and slowly making her way for the exit. As the doors slid open, she heard Elita call her name again. Turning back, she saw Elita stand with an apologetic face, "If you ever need to talk-"

"-I know. Thanks, but no thanks," Windblade nodded and walked out, not sure if she wanted to continue this conversation again. She didn't know if she was mad, confused, or just something else entirely as she walked past her room, too pent up to even find rest. She couldn't even tell where these feelings were directed at. It didn't feel directed at Elita, and it didn't feel directed at the Primes. Whatever she felt, it was as aimless as her.

"Maybe I really do need to talk with someone?" Windblade knew she couldn't go back to Elita after that. She felt pretty certain that Wheeljack wouldn't have much to say, and neither Ultra Magnus nor Prowl were what she'd call "sparkling conversationalists". Instead, she headed for medical bay to the two bots on the ship that she felt most comfortable with.

"Alri-ri-right, no permanent damage and a full reco-covery!" Fixit cheerfully hopped off, landing on the medical bay's floor.

"Thanks Fix," Jetfire got off the examination table and stretched a bit, his metal whirring and creaking, "I owe you one."

Fixit smiled, "It's nothing, just doing my job! Besides, I-I-I'm the one who owes you, remember?"

"Speaking of, why were you at that base?"

"Oh, that. Well I-I-I-I-I" Fixit bonked his head to settled down his glitching voice, "I was looking for my friends in that area. You remember them, ri-right? Flowchart, Schematic, and Rundown?"

"Yeah, I remember them," Jetfire replied, Fixit nodding as he continued.

"I heard rumors about a group of Mini-Con Autobots tearing through De-Decepticon outposts here and there-there, and where their next target was likely-ly to be. Turns out it was false info-information, a trap the Cons set up to cap-capture-ture any Autobots dumb enough to go-go looking," Fixit raised a servo, "One dumb Autobot, pre-present and accounted-ted for."

"Fix…"

The Mini-Con sighed, "In hindsi-sight, I really should've seen that coming. Haven't heard from-from them in Vorns. For all I-I know, they've probably been kill-killed."

"Hey, you don't know that," Jetfire said reassuringly, "Lost contact with a lot of Autobots over the Vorns that I thought were dead, only to run into them later. Running into you, Elita, Magnus, and Prowl is one of those cases." He smiled and knelt down, holding out his servo in a closed fist, "And don't beat yourself up for what you did. In your position, I'd have done the exact same thing."

Fixit stared at the outstretched fist, looking up at Jetfire's kind optics. Smiling back, he bumped the closed servo with his own just as Windblade walked in. Fixit was about to say hello, but saw that she seemed rather dour. He looked up at Jetfire, who also noticed and was just as concerned. As she walked over to them, Fixit cleared his aching throat and asked, "What's up-up Windblade?"

Windblade looked between the two, "Nothing, just… I finished talking with Elita."

"Talk wasn't so good?" Jetfire grabbed a few chairs and rolled them over, letting Windblade sit in one while he took to the other, helping Fixit to his shoulder, "Anything you want to get off your chestplate?" Windblade nodded, but Fixit saw that it kinda looked like she was forcing herself to do so. Evidently, Jetfire saw it too, his servos in a placating gesture, "If you don't feel comfortable talking right now, you don't have to."

"No, it's… it's fine," Windblade sighed and crossed her arms, optics to the floor, "Honestly, I came here because you're the only two bots I want to talk with right now."

"What were-were you and Elita talking about any-anyway?"

"The Primes."

"What about them?"

Windblade stared at Jetfire in response to his question, like she was trying to process something, before finally answering, "Caminus got cut off a long time ago, so there's a lot we don't know about. I was curious about Megatron, and that led to me learning about Megatronus Prime and everything he did."

Fixit scratched the top of his helm, "Maybe it's just me-me, but I'm not seeing the big deal."

"Because Caminus worships the Thirteen, Solus chief among them. They're our gods! Unwavering champions of righteousness and purity who saved creation itself! Learning the horrors one Prime committed… well, I didn't know how to handle that, so I walked out," She began drumming her fingers against her arms, "If one Prime could do that, what about the others? It has me questioning everything and… I just-" Windblade leaned her head back, dragging her servos down her face, "By Solus, I'm sorry. I'm just feeling a lot of… well, a lot right now. I don't know what to do or think."

Fixit and Jetfire looked to each other, and he could see that the larger bot was at a loss for what to say. Fixit wasn't sure how to help either, the whole topic of history and the Thirteen Primes not being his area of expertise. It was something he probably should've known more about, given that he was forged during the Age of Expansion, but he spent more time on gladiator games than anything else. By the time he started developing something resembling interest in them, it was halfway through the reign of Nominus Prime and there wasn't much of any information on them available, so he started dismissing them as tall tales. Sure, he knew plenty of bots who believed that kind of stuff, especially within the Autobots, but he just couldn't see it.

You spend a lifetime wallowing in pain and misery, and whatever went down before you existed starts to feel like an afterthought, Fixit sighed and rubbed at his throat, feeling the familiar piercing sensation in his busted up voicebox. Humming, he said, "Sorry, but there isn't really much-much I can say. Don't know much of anything on the Thirteen. Didn't personally know any-any of the-the-the Primes I lived under either. Sure had to live wi-with their choices, I'll say tha-tha-that much."

Windblade nodded, only to stop and blink, "Wait, what was that last part?"

"Uh… that I had to live with the ch-choices of-of the Primes?"

"… there were…" The Camien shook her head, optics going wide, "There were Primes after the Thirteen!?"

"Yeah, probably should explain that bit," Jetfire muttered and took over, "Yes, there were, though they weren't gods or anything of the sort. For us, a Prime can basically be summed up as Cybertron's chosen political leader. And after the Thirteen, we had four: Nova Prime, Nominus Prime, Sentinel Prime, and the Autobot Resistance leader, Optimus Prime."

If possible, Windblade's optics went even wider as a silent gasp escaped her lips. She looked like she was ready to explode with several more questions before clutching the sides of her head, "Okay, okay, so… if there isn't much you guys can talk about on the Thirteen, what about the Primes that came after them? What were they like?"

"Well, that's… a complicated question," Jetfire rubbed the back of his helm.

Windblade huffed, "Is there anything about this that isn't complicated?"

"Sentinel and Nominus sucked," Fixit bluntly said, drawing stares from his friends. Shrugging, he looked to Windblade and replied, "Wha-What? You asked if-if-if anything wasn't complicated. It ain't Space Bri-bri-bridge science that they were slag Primes."

"So even the successors to the Thirteen were terrible?" Windblade asked, her voice downtrodden.

"Fixit!" Jetfire gently admonished, the Mini-Con apologetic as the Aerialbot faced the Camien, "Windblade, like I said, it's honestly a lot more complicated than that. But at the same time, I don't think we're the right mechs to talk to. We never really saw the Primes as gods like Caminus did. Most of their exploits were just myths and legends to us. Closest thing to what you're going through that I can compare with was what the Decepticons became and…" He sighed, "Well, I don't think I need to go into detail on how that went."

"Yeah…" She nodded, entering a lull of silence as Fixit's processor raced for ways to help, but he kept drawing blanks. Aside from Optimus, he didn't exactly have the best view on Primes, and it looked like Windblade was desperate for something to prove her increasing pessimism wrong. For some reason, Fixit wasn't sure if that's what she needed, but this clearly wasn't doing her any good.

"As for the Primes that came after…" Jetfire continued, "I was forged and came online during the reign of Sentinel, and unfortunately, the Caste System was in full swing long before then." He mirthlessly chuckled, "After graduating from Nova Point, I got saddled with transportation jobs thanks to my alt-mode, when all I wanted was to enter scientific fields and tinker in labs."

"Is that how you found the Decepticons?" Windblade asked, "Or at least, what they used to be?"

Jetfire nodded, "Heard about them during one of my odd jobs and what they were aiming for. I was on the fence about it at first, especially since my old academy mate, Starscream-" the Aerialbot's tone gained a bitter twinge at the mention of his former friend, "-was working with his political connections so I could join him in Iacon's best science labs, working directly under Cybertron's high council and Sentinel himself. I ultimately decided to join the movement and fight for something rather than be complacent in Sentinel's system."

"Guessing you wished you'd taken that offer, huh?" Windblade joked, causing Fixit to smile a bit, seeing her regain a bit of joy.

"Can't say for certain," Jetfire shrugged, "Maybe I never would've joined the Decepticons, but Starscream got caught up in a lab accident and was shut down by Sentinel. Found him running scams on the streets of Iacon and helped him back up, welcomed him into the movement like how he offered to help me." He sighed, lost in a terrible memory, "That ended up being one of my biggest regrets."

"Helping your friend?" Windblade raised an eyebrow, sounding almost like she was chiding him.

"He means bringing Starscrea-scream into the movement," Fixit clarified, "That backstabbing no good frag-frag-frag-frag-fragger went on to become Megatron's second-in-command and leader of the Seeker Armada."

"I… I'm sorry," Windblade said, rolling her chair up and patting Jetfire's kneecap, "I don't know what that's like, having to fight a former friend."

"Hope you never have to know," Jetfire replied, touched by the gesture. Suddenly, he chuckled, "Sorry, went on a bit of a tangent there."

Windblade chuckled back, "That's fine, I was the one who asked. Besides, sometimes we get lost in the past. It's been happening to me a lot lately."

Understandable why that is, Fixit smiled sadly, remembering his and Windblade's conversation about her happier times back on Caminus. It was all too familiar for him, having immigrated from his forging place on Prion to live on Cybertron, only to lose almost everything. And what little his attackers left him with, the Quintesson War took the rest, while the War of the Threefold Spark ensured it stayed lost forever.

Just thinking about the latter war, as well as the Nominus Edict that started it all, made his servo's digits clench in rage. He tried to keep it restrained, remembering that Nominus was dead, that the war was over, and that his side, the Threefold Spark, lost in the end. Reminding himself that, regardless of his views, Windblade needed some kind of reassurance in her beliefs on Primes. He tried to put his personal biases think of something, anything positive, that he could say about Nova, Nominus, or Sentinel.

Finally, he sighed and hopped down from Jetfire's shoulder, "Well-Well, if it means any-any-anything, Nova Prime was pretty alright." Gathering the other two's attention, he continued, "I-I moved to Cybertron when he wa-was in charge. Before the Quin-Quin-Quintessons came in, his reign was actually pretty peaceful. It was a G-Golden Age of prosperity-ty, wealth, commerce, and technological advan-van-van-vancement. Travel was made easier thanks to him p-pioneer-neering Space Bridge technology, and Cybertron began making contact with the wider universe, interact-acting with organ-ganic-ic life for the first time in its existence. Heck, it's how we adopted the Shan-Shannix currency system."

"That… honestly sounds amazing," Windblade breathed out, optics full of interest.

"It was for a-a-a-a lot of bot-bots, but…" Fixit scratched his throat, "Not everyone-one-one got to enjoy it. Even in a Go-Golden Age, some of us were left behin-hin-hin-hind."

He could still remember that day, rolling home from another exciting gladiator match. He remembered how those larger bots cornered and loomed over him, menacing sneers on all their faces. He remembered how they held him down and tore out his voicebox before throwing him into the trash, a myriad of slurs and insults yelled at him just for being a Mini-Con. By the time he came to, he was in a large dump, surrounded by garbage, and in more pain than he'd ever been before, a pain nothing since could hope to match.

Though cobbling together a barely functioning voicebox from a long dead corpse and having to do the surgery myself with nothing but table scraps is probably a close second, Fixit closed his optics and ceased rubbing at his throat, humming in a way that almost soothed the pain, if only marginally. As he opened them, however, he saw Windblade's shadow loom over him, a servo reaching out to him just like those bots from so long ago. With a wince, Fixit slammed his optics shut in a panic, almost backing away and expecting the worst.

But nothing came.

"Slag! S-Sorry, I'm sorry!" Windblade's apology made him open an optic, looking up at the kneeling Camien, who retracted her servo and said, "I should've asked. I was trying to help and… I'm sorry!" She looked away guiltily, rubbing at her servo as she asked, "Does it hurt?"

"… all the time."

Going quiet once again, Windblade took a seat next to him on the floor, Jetfire sitting at her left and placing a reassuring servo on her shoulder. "It's fine, you were just trying to help," He said before looking over to Fixit sorrowfully, "Made the same mistake when we first met too."

Fixit chuckled, "Yeah. Think I reacted-ted way wor-worse about it back then. So if-if it means any-anything, this is act-actually a step up-up-up."

His statement caused Windblade to chuckle in kind, chin rested against her knees as she winded down. "… so, with what happened to you, was Nova to blame?"

"No," Fixit immediately shook his head, "It was-wasn't some political nonsense or some conspir-spiracy scrap or anything he had knowledge or invol-vol-volvement in. Just bot-bots being jerks in the-the worst way poss-possible because… well, some bots are jerk-jerks."

"Oh…" Windblade looked to the floor again, "Do you think similar things happened during the era of the Thirteen?"

Fixit and Jetfire looked over Windblade and at each other, seeing where she was going with this. With her faith in the Primes shaken, she worried that their reign over Cybertron and the colonies had similar issues. He honestly couldn't say, but growing up on Prion, he did occasionally witness fellow Mini-Cons make jabs at each other for things beyond their control. After what happened to him, he was no exception, often getting derided by regular bots, Mini-Cons, and even some Autobots during the war for his broken speech patterns. Sure, Optimus, Elita, and Ultra Magnus did everything they could to ensure all Autobots got along, but they weren't omniscient and couldn't account for everything, so it still cropped up every now and then.

So who could really say? Maybe the era of the Thirteen did have the same issues, no different from… from…

Frag, maybe I'm making the same mistake she did? Fixit wondered, recalling all his previous, loathing-filled thoughts towards the Primes. The sheer grandeur surrounding them and their titles made each Prime seem larger than life, able to solve anything and everything. But none of their reigns, not even Nova's, were perfect. If Optimus were anything like that, they would've won the war a long time ago.

Finally gathering his thoughts, he coughed and said, "May-Maybe the issue is that you're holding the Pri-Primes to an impossible stand-and-andard? Trust me, I know what that's like, at least."

"Same," Jetfire added, "I know that I had a similar perception of Megatron before things came crashing down. Not the same as a Prime, but… maybe similar enough?"

"… maybe…" Windblade stood up and started pacing, "I guess part of me just wants to understand how and why the Thirteen turned out the way they did. But the only way that'd happen is if I ran into one of them to ask directly." Without a hint of humor, she chuckled, "And really, what are the odds of that?"

Fixit heard Jetfire shift, looking up to see a contemplative glint in his optics. Fingers at his chin, the giant of an Autobot thought things over before realization struck. "Actually, while that might not happen, I think I have the next best thing!" He fully stood up and approached Windblade, "It was all just rumors, but from what I've heard, there was a member of the thirteen original Primes who remained on Cybertron. His name was Alpha Trion."

I see where this is going, Fixit mused, having heard many of the same rumors passed throughout the Autobots via word of mouth. He didn't put much stock in them, but if even a fraction of them were true, it meant there was someone on the ship she could ask.

"Wait, there was one of the Thirteen on Cybertron?" Windblade's optics lit up, glowing bright blue, "As in, an actual Prime of the Thirteen!?" She practically jumped for joy, wings out as she flew up, "That's great! When can I meet him? Where can I meet him? Was it Trinitus Prime? I mean, the name alone feels like a dead giveaway for the Prime of Knowledge. Is he still on Cybertron or did he leave after the Decepti-"

"He's dead."

"… what?" Windblade looked down as Fixit rolled up, "H-How could be be dead? He's a Prime! What could've possibly killed him!?"

"Megatron," Fixit answered, "From what little Ratchet was-was willing to tell me, they fought at Cybertron's co-core. Megatron was trying to-to-to get the Matrix of Leadership, and he man-managed to kill Alpha Trion. Thankfully, Megatron did-didn't get the Matrix."

Windblade looked like she was about to explode in another onslaught of questions. Instead, her shoulders and wings began to sag as she asked, "Then why tell me this?"

"Because Alpha Trion used to be a member of Cybertron's High Council!" Jetfire said, drawing Windblade's full attention as he continued, "And Ultra Magnus was the Supreme Commander of the Autobot military since the end of the Quintesson War. He held a position on the council and probably knew Alpha Trion personally, so he likely knows something. If there's anyone you can ask about the Thirteen, it's him."

Windblade's optics went wide again as she looked between the two, Fixit nodding to agree with Jetfire's suggestion. The Camien still seemed unsure, but slowly, her wings and shoulders began to rise as she regained a small, but noteworthy smile. "Okay, I'll go ask him then," She said before making her way to the door and stopping, "Kind of scared that I'll end up learning something worse though."

"Hey, if it gets worse, we'll all be here to help out," Jetfire's smile began to fade, "Sorry we couldn't really do more."

"You've done more than enough. Thank you, really," Windblade replied, her own smile reassuring them as she walked out, the med bay door closing behind her.

"Think she'll be-be okay?" Fixit asked as Jetfire knelt down.

"Hope so, Fix," Jetfire said, hand held out and letting the Mini-Con onto his shoulder, "Not much else we can do now."

"Right. If there's noth-nothing else we can do, want to get back-back to working on some old pro-projects?" Fixit asked as Jetfire exited the room with him in tow, making their way for the Alpha-5's main laboratory.

"Sounds good to me, old friend," Jetfire regained his warm smile, "Never did get to finish Project: Pretender, did we?"

Fixit smiled back, "No we did-didn't. Let's fix that!"

The tapping of keys was the only noise that filled the room, Ultra Magnus and Prowl silent in their work. The First Lieutenant and former Supreme Commander found it preferable, as it made focus much easier. Clearly, Prowl preferred the same, as there was a quiet understanding between them, only exchanging glances and nods when newly deciphered data appeared on the wall-sized monitor. Thus far, they'd deciphered the locations of a few Decepticon controlled Energon and weapons caches located throughout the galaxy, as well as the location of several Insecticon hives, a few of which were actually on route to their current destination.

But just as he was about to finish deciphering something else, the doors behind him opened. Turning, he saw Windblade enter and ask, "Hey, Ultra Magnus, uh…" hastily, she saluted, "Sir! You got a cycle?"

"Apologies, but no," He returned to his work, "As you can see, I'm very busy at the moment. Please wait until I'm finished."

"O-Oh, okay. Sorry to interrupt. I was just had a few questions about an Alpha Trion, but I can come back later."

Blinking, Ultra Magnus turned to make sure he heard her right, "You… want to know about Alpha Trion?" Windblade seemed hesitant for a moment, but nodded. His own curiosity piqued, Magnus turned to Prowl and ordered, "Handle deciphering duties until I return. This won't take long."

"Understood," Prowl answered, not tearing his optics away from the screen for a nano-klik as the First Lieutenant and the new recruit walked down the halls, door shutting behind them. One thing Ultra Magnus knew for certain about the Cyber-Ninja was that once set on a task, he was thoroughly dedicated to it. Assuming this discussion went on longer than intended, he'd likely finish decoding without him, though Magnus certainly hoped not. He'd privately admit to often finding a certain joy in decoding hidden information. It was like the puzzle solving he got up to in what little free time he could find for himself, and having company on that front was a pleasant change of pace.

"So, what would you like to know, cadet?" Magnus asked as the two bots came to a stop in the middle of the halls.

"Could you please not call me that?" The Camien asked in annoyance.

"Apologies. What would you like to know, Windblade?" He tried again, keeping his tone even to put the younger bot at ease. Based on the way she winced, it didn't work. Silently, he berated himself, still unused to the idea of addressing fellow Autobots by name rather than rank.

Then again, Windblade technically isn't an Autobot, is she? Magnus briefly wondered. While true in that she'd never been officially inducted into the ranks through the proper recruitment channels, all of them were defunct at this point. Both Supreme Commander Optimus Prime and General Elita-1 have stated that any who opposed the Decepticons' tyranny were Autobots in spirit, and many other troops, new and old, agreed with that sentiment. So perhaps my definition is outdated? He mused, looking down at the younger femme who seemed too intimidated to ask any questions, I suppose that's inevitable when you're a relic of a past era.

Finally stowing away her worries, Windblade asked, "Was he… was Alpha Trion one of the Thirteen?"

"…" Ultra Magnus wasn't sure how to respond, having never been asked that about his old war comrade. Whether it was because he rarely ever socialized outside the Autobot military's power structure, or because the few whom he did regularly interact with already knew that, he couldn't say. Rather than immediately answer, he blinked a few times before responding with his own question in kind, "Why do you wish to know?"

"I just got finished talking with Jetfire and Fixit. I have some… okay, I have a lot of questions on the Thirteen and the Primes that succeeded them," She looked up to him, a desperation in her optics as she pleaded, "I need to know the truth about them. It's… it'd mean a lot to me."

"I… recommend you keep it brief for now," Magnus replied, desperately wishing he was Optimus or Elita right now since they excelled at this sort of thing. Although, The First Lieutenant realized, Why isn't she discussing this with Elita? Best to ask her when I get the chance.

Nodding, Windblade replied, "Let's start with my first question."

Nodding in kind, Ultra Magus answered, "It's true. Alpha Trion was one of the Thirteen."

Windblade's optics went wide, filled with a sense of delight and awe that she just as quickly stowed away. Shaking her head, she followed up with, "Would I be correct in assuming he was Trinitus Prime?"

"You would be correct in that assumption."

"Okay, sorry, just need to get my nerves in check!" Windblade lightly slapped the sides of her face a few times – something Ultra Magnus had seen a few soldiers under his command do to "psych up" for the next onslaught – before asking, "What was he like?"

Once more, the former Supreme Commander found himself with a rare question that he didn't have an immediate response to. It wasn't that he had so little to say of the deceased Prime, far from it. But combined with his difficulties, trying to come up with an adequate, short, and to-the-point answer wasn't easy. The more he pondered, the more he felt that such an answer didn't truly exist.

Another factor that kept his answers at bay was the constant pleading undertone to Windblade's questions that left him feeling troubled. He'd make it a point to question her on that, but first, he promised to answer her, and he would. Leaning back against the wall, Ultra Magnus replied, "I suppose I should start with how we first met."

Windblade stood at full attention, servos slightly shaking in anticipation as Magnus began, "Eons ago, Cybertron was at war with a race known as the Quintessons."

"Yeah, Jetfire mentioned something about that. He said something about a Quintesson War that you fought in," The Camien said, and after earning a nod from Magnus, she asked, "So, you met Alpha Trion on a battlefield?"

"Not quite. Truth be told, I actually met him the very moment I was forged," Seeing Windblade's awe and bewilderment, Ultra Magnus clarified, "When I first came online, he was the first being I saw, welcoming me into the world alongside those I'd been forged with and asking my name." Magnus smiled, though there was a bitterness to the memory, for he'd long since discarded that old name, "He was kind and wise, often teaching us just as much as he fought alongside us. Even to this day, I've yet to meet a greater warrior than him, though Nova always came close."

A rare chuckle escaped his lips as Ultra Magnus recalled his earliest battle in the Quintesson War, where he and his first unit were beset by an onslaught of Quintesson Prosecutors. His guard let down, he wound up knocked off the tower and plummeting far below, surrounded alongside fleeing civilians by the invaders. But before he could grab his blaster and go down providing an escape, help arrived in the form of Nova Prime, Alpha Trion, and the small army they brought along. It'd been awe inspiring, watching Nova blast apart enemy after enemy with his Fusion Cannon while Alpha Trion effortlessly slashed dozens of Prosecutors into scrap metal, Primax Blade in one servo and shield in the other. Just as awe inspiring was watching the Primes, new and old, immediate get to work in helping and evacuating the civilians, inspiring and lifting spirits when all hope seemed lost.

"Wow," Windblade whispered, and in her optics, Magnus saw the same awe he felt long ago, "I… I'd always heard that in battle, the Thirteen were without equal, but to have seen it for yourself…" The glimmers in her optics faded as confusion took hold, "But then, how did he die? Fixit and Jetfire said Megatron killed him, but I don't understand how one of the Thirteen can be killed like that."

"I know I had a similar reaction long ago," Ultra Magnus said, recollecting a battle where he saw Alpha Trion heavily injured in the aftermath, "When I asked Alpha Trion how he could get hurt if he was a Prime, Nova stepped in and told me that there's no such thing as an invincible warrior. He and Alpha Trion would explain to us that no matter how skilled, powerful, or tactical one can be, there would always be someone greater in any one or even all fields that could do them in. Sometimes, it's just a matter of misfortune. Everyone, even Primes, be they the Thirteen or otherwise, can perish."

He recalled how much of an optic opener that moment was. Before then, both Nova Prime and Alpha Trion seemed so indestructible, so much larger than life, and yet even they could fall. Ultimately, those words were cemented when Nova perished saving him and his unit, and were proven again when Alpha Trion met his end at Megatron's servos in battle. It was a harsh, but important lesson Ultra Magnus had to learn in his youth. He just wished he had learned it any other way.

Unfortunately, war never teaches pleasant lessons, Ultra Magnus began to grimace, recollecting every war he'd ever fought in: The Quintesson War, the War of the Threefold Spark, and the ongoing war. Each one bore its own scars, its own lessons, and its own regrets. Such conflict had defined him from quite literally the moment he was forged, and too often did he wish it didn't.

"I see…" Magnus' musings were interrupted by Windblade, the confusion remaining, but in a more contemplative form as she tapped her foot on the floor. He could still see traces of the desperation, but now there seemed to be a clarity of sorts, like she was putting pieces of a puzzle together, even if she didn't quite have it down yet.

Seeing that he now had the opportunity, Ultra Magnus asked, "Why aren't you asking General Elita these questions? Were you not with her earlier?"

Windblade blinked and looked up, almost jumping at being put on the spot. Her face contorted purely towards confusion again as she answered, growing increasingly bitter, "I-I did ask her about the Thirteen earlier and… I just walked out."

"Hmm." Ultra Magnus uncrossed his servos, his back removed from the wall as he studied the Camien and asked, "Why did you walk out?"

"… I learned things about the Thirteen that I didn't like. Mostly it had to do with the Fall-I mean, Megatronus, and then I started spiraling from there."

"I see," He scratched his chin, recollecting every talk he'd had with Alpha Trion both between and during each battle of the Quintesson War. "You know, Alpha Trion often spoke of his era to many troops, including me, during the war," He said, Windblade looking up, "He spoke of how Prima's paranoia sparked discord among the Thirteen, how Megatronus' wrath led to the war that ended their reign, and how Maximus' deceit fed into their flaws that brought everything to the forefront. Just as much, he spoke of his complacency, how he believed himself as allowing the discord to have festered."

"So, the other Primes really did do terrible things," Windblade sighed, servo grasping tightly at her arm to the point where Magnus worried she'd draw Energon, "I started suspecting as much after my discussion with Elita, but I… I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to think it was possible."

"Perhaps, but I find that with two exceptions, them being the Fallen and Maximus, they still did far more good than bad in their lifetimes," Ultra Magnus said as he tried to reassure her. It didn't seem to be working though, as she kept her gaze to the floor. Trying a different angle, he remembered why Alpha Trion was so open about this sort of thing, "If it means anything, Prima requested that we and the future generations of our race know all this," The Camien started looking up as he concluded, "Alpha Trion saw fit to honor his eldest brother in doing so." Just as Windblade's frown left, Magnus sighed and gained his, "Unfortunately, Nova's successor saw fit to suppress the Thirteen's history."

"Huh, that… that actually explains some of what Jetfire and Fixit said," Windblade muttered and asked, "And Alpha Trion didn't do anything to oppose the act?"

"More like he couldn't. Nominus had him permanently barred from the high council and exiled to the Iacon Hall of Records before that point," Magnus answered, still remembering the argument between Alpha Trion and Nominus that shook the council chambers with its volume and silenced the rest of the council. The old Prime was furious with the new one's then decision to order a hit on the growing Threefold Spark movement without even a token attempt at negotiating with them first. Even Magnus agreed, seeing as not only had the Threefold Spark done nothing to warrant aggressive action beyond opposing the Nominus Edict – a law that Magnus once supported, only to regret in hindsight – but because the entire movement was composed of Cybertronian and colony citizens. Suffice to say, Nominus wouldn't listen, and his actions started the War of the Threefold Spark. Sometimes, Ultra Magnus wished he'd spoken up, but there was no way of knowing if it would've changed anything.

"So, Nominus and Sentinel were as much glitch heads as Fixit said they were?" Windblade asked, a touch of humor entering her downtrodden voice, catching Ultra Magnus off-guard. So much so, the old soldier actually let out a chuckle.

"They weren't the nicest of mechs, but they had their moments," Ultra Magnus said, smiling as he looked up in thought, "Nominus more than Sentinel. I can say that much."

Windblade let out a full-on chuckle, ending as she leaned against her side of the hallway, "You know, you're not as bad to talk with as I thou-" Suddenly, a loud, muffled explosion sound penetrated their audio receptors and shook the ship, "W-What the Pit was that!?"

Activating his comms, Ultra Magnus contacted the bridge, "General Elita, are we under attack!? Is it Decepticons?"

"No Magnus, we aren't," She replied, exhaustion and acceptance in her voice, "The ship's readings indicate that the explosion came from the docking bay. Take a guess."

"… Wheeljack?"

"Wheeljack."

"Of course."

"I already activated the fire suppressant systems in the docking bay," Elita said, sounding more than a bit concerned, "Still, might be best to check in on him. Make sure he's still in one piece."

"Understood," Magnus deactivated the commlink and pinched between his optics with a sigh, muttering, "I can't deal with that now!"

"Maybe I could go check on Wheeljack?" Windblade asked worriedly, "I mean, I've taken up enough of your time, you need to finish decoding with Prowl, plus I think I've heard enough, and I don't feel as lost as before, so…"

"Very well cade-I mean, Windblade. Good luck." This being Wheeljack, you'll need it. Ultra Magnus nodded as Windblade smiled and gave a salute, albeit with a hint of playfulness to it, as she unfolded her wings and flew down the halls as fast as she could for the docking bay. As she left, Ultra Magnus felt a hint of pride in himself, the conversation going better than his usual ones with new recruits.

Perhaps I do possess some capacity for socialization, Ultra Magnus smiled and shook his head, returning to the computer room and entering to find Prowl still hard at work.

"That certainly didn't take long," Prowl droned without taking his optics off the monitor, which was flashing with new data.

"Sorry about that, soldier," Magnus returned to his post, seeing that Prowl had decoded most of the data. All that remained was a final third, so he quickly got to work, returning to the previous silence.

Well, that could've gone better, Wheeljack waved off the smoke as he stood before the Jackhammer's still sputtering thrusters. The suppressant systems in the docking bay coated the entire ship with a thick layer of foam, putting out the fire that it'd been giving off. Despite this, he grimaced, That's all fine and dandy, but the acid in that foam's gonna ruin the Jackhammer's paint worse than a Seeker attack ever could.

"Wheeljack!?" Windblade's voice came from behind, the Wrecker looking back to see her fly into the docking bay. As she crested up, she looked at his ship and descended next to him, "What happened?"

"Tried making some upgrades to the Jackhammer. Instead… kaboom!"

"I can see that," Windblade focused on the burning thrusters, "What kind of upgrade were you trying to make?"

Smirking, Wheeljack turned to her and answered, "Two words: Thruster Cannons."

"… eh?"

"Was doing standard maintenance on the engines when I remembered all the firefights I'd been in," Wheeljack explained, recalling his most recent one where he barely managed to fend off the twin Decepticon captains: Skyquake and Dreadwing. "It got me thinking about getting the Jackhammer some upgrades to defend the rear. Maybe could've added a 360-degree blaster or two, but then I thought…" He snapped his fingers, "What if the thrusters were the weapon instead?"

"You tried to turn your ship's propulsion system… into a gun?" Windblade asked, entire body slack and looking at him like he was Primus ascending from Cybertron's core to declare, "LET THEM GLITCHES DRINK ENGEX!"

"Don't act like you aren't impressed," Wheeljack kept his smirk up, even as the Jackhammer's thrusters sputtered another minor explosion that made Windblade yelp back.

"O-Okay then," Windblade composed herself and turned to him, "I just have one question," throwing her servos into the air, she gestured towards the Jackhammer and yelled, "WHY!?"

"Answer's another, better question," Wheeljack smirked again, "Why not?"

"… I'm beginning to think you Wreckers are just insane."

Wheeljack shrugged and looked back to the ship, "Hey, it's helped us survive this long, and trust me, I ain't even the worst of 'em." He didn't have to look to see the utter bewilderment on Windblade's face as he walked off to grab a nearby hose, "Now, if you'll excuse me, kid…" Wheeljack dragged it back, aiming it for the Jackhammer, "I gotta clean this off before I end up with a ship uglier than Bludgeon's mug."

"Who's…" Windblade shook her head, "Oh never mind." She looked at the ship as Wheeljack started spraying the foam off, "Anything I can do to help?"

"Nah, don't sweat it. I'll be done in-" He cut himself off and stared at her wings for a bit. Getting an idea from her rotary engines, he hummed, "Actually, maybe you can." Nudging his head towards the Jackhammer, he asked, "Think you could fly up and blast air wherever I spray? It'll get help get the foam off and let it dry faster."

Attention back on the ship, Windblade smiled, "Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Then blow 'em away, kid!" Wheeljack started spraying the ship again, Windblade taking flight and sending out powerful gusts of air. As they began cleaning and drying the Jackhammer, however, the Wrecker noticed something off about Windblade. Between each air burst, her demeanor briefly shifted like she was troubled by something, further compounded by how forced her smile became the longer things went on. Every so often, it slipped when she thought he was too busy spraying his ship, but she'd have it back up right when he looked over to her.

He didn't like it.

"Okay, I think that's all of it!" Windblade said, giving Wheeljack a thumbs up as she flew down to him. They both looked upon the Jackhammer, which seemed to almost shimmer in the docking bay's lights.

"Nice," Wheeljack held a closed servo out, expecting a high five. Windblade was quick to return the gesture, her spirit lightening just a bit. Still… "Since that's a job well done, how about some celebratory drinks! I got Engex, Old Corroder, Grand Uprising, Mood Whiplash, and a few different kinds of oils." He opened the Jackhammer's rear ramp, "You're probably gonna want the oil. Trust me."

"What? Think this is my first time drinking?" Windblade playfully asked as they walked into the small ship, Wheeljack rummaging through a storage crate he had on board.

"Really? Huh, you don't seem the type," Wheeljack pulled out a bottle of Mood Whiplash and Old Corroder, the former of which he tossed to the Camien, who was now seated on the adjacent crate, "Here ya go! See if that'll get your processor buzzing."

Windblade held the bottle rather cautiously, staring at the red liquid. Though now that he thought of it, wasn't Mood Whiplash usually purple? Just as the question popped into his head, Windblade cracked the bottle open and took a sniff, recoiling in disgust, "BLEGH! What is this stuff!?"

Picking up on the scent, Wheeljack grimaced, "Oh, now I remember. That ain't Mood Whiplash. I was mixing a scrap ton of drinks and substances at least eight Vorns back and wound up making that. I call it the 'Con Concussion'. Probably got mixed in with my stash. It's actually supposed to go in the crate you're sitting on now."

"It smells like poison!"

"That's because it is poison," Wheeljack took the bottle and handed her a cup of standard oil, "Used it to knock an entire Con camp out cold."

Windblade sighed in relief, "Well, good thing I didn't… drink…" she went quiet as Wheeljack took a swig, downing about a third of it before she managed to ask, "D-Didn't you just say it was poison?"

Wheeljack wiped his lips and replied, "For Cons, not for me. Accidentally drank this stuff once and was out for a Chord, so I kept drinking until I was barely buzzed." Chuckling, he sat on the crate he pulled it from, "Heh, even got a few Wreckers in on it. Bulkhead and Springer barely lasted a few shots, but Impactor and Whirl always managed to keep up with me. I'll tell ya now though, none of us could hold a candle to Kup. Crazy old mech made us all look like lightweights."

The Camien blinked, looking between him and the bottle, "I no longer think you Wreckers are insane," she smiled, "I know you're all insane."

"HA! Compliment in our line of work," Wheeljack took another swig while Windblade drank light sips of her oil. When she finished, her fingers began brushing along the cup as she looked down into the dark liquid.

"So, what's killing you this time?" Wheeljack asked.

Windblade turned to him, optics shifting to the floor as she replied, "I don't know. I'm… not sure if you'll get it."

"Try me. Worst I can say is 'that sucks' and walk out on you," Wheeljack's statement got a pretty big laugh out of Windblade, who covered her mouth in an effort to stifle it, but to no avail. After a couple cycles, she started to calm down, letting the Wrecker ask, "Being something of a betting bot myself, I can probably take a guess that it's a Caminus issue, right?"

"… kinda, yeah," Windblade said, taking another sip, "It's really a Caminus and Cybertron problem. I learned something that I wish I didn't." Sighing, she nursed the cup and turned to face him, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Thirteen Primes, would you?"

Wheeljack raised an eyebrow and looked up in thought. He'd never been much of a history buff, even during his Solar Cycles at the Cybertron Science Academy in Iacon. This was especially the case after he got kicked out and moved to Velocitron, joining the Wreckers back when they were a neighborhood watch group. By then, he was too busy kicking criminal aft and having a blast alongside Impactor, Kup, Rotostorm, Seaspray, Bulkhead, and… and Breakdown.

Refusing to think about the traitor, he focused on Windblade and replied, "Not really. Why you asking?"

"Long story," She answered, a sad look in her optics, "Let's just say that they're important figures on Caminus, but they aren't who we thought them to be. I tried asking around the ship, but it hasn't helped me feel that much better about it." The Camien took a large swig of her oil, drinking the cup dry, "Ugh, I just wish things weren't so complicated! I mean, even the Primes after them apparently did some messed up things and I just… I'm having a hard time seeing how a Prime could do that. Even if the Thirteen's successors weren't divine like they were, I guess I'd still expect better from them."

Everyone expects better from their leaders, kid, Wheeljack mused, not really knowing anything to say about the Thirteen to give a decent judgment. The only bot he knew that could was Kup, the old mech having met and interacted with all Thirteen of the original Primes back in their heyday. Even then, he tended to be pretty tight lipped about it, only ever talking about the miracles they did and little else, though he did tend to be a bit happier and more talkative when it came to Alchemist, Nexus, Trinitus, and Solus (especially Solus). Wheeljack didn't like being left in the dark, but he respected Kup's privacy enough not to push too much.

"Can't say much, but I do know this," Wheeljack began, downing the rest of his Con Concussion, "The Thirteen probably weren't ever all that different from us." Windblade looked at him like he'd just said something blasphemous. Getting a feel for what Camien culture was like, he probably did from her perspective. Either way, she needed to here this, so rather than backpedal, he continued, "What I'm getting at is that they can make the same mistakes anyone else could. Doesn't make them inherently good or bad by any means. Just means that they're… well, people."

"The Thirteen are people…" Windblade repeated before she went quiet, putting down her empty oil cup, "Sorry, I'm just still having a hard time wrapping my head around this. The Thirteen are the first creations of Primus himself, and I can't see how or why gods like them could do that."

Wheeljack shrugged, "Eh, personally, I don't think even Primus was perfect. If he was, he'd never have needed to make the Thirteen to help kick Unicron's skidplate. Hell, if the Thirteen were perfect, do you really think they'd have needed to make the Titans in order to create and guard Cybertron and the first colonies to begin with?"

"…"

"Kid, why's this bugging you so much?" Wheeljack asked, "Something tells me it isn't just a basic crisis of faith."

Windblade sighed, staring at the Jackhammer's ceiling, "Well, it's just… Caminus teaches of how Prima, in the ancient past, gathered all our City Speakers to fight a threat of some kind. But with everything I've been learning, I'm… I'm scared. What if that was a lie? What if Prima lied about the cataclysm and used it to get rid of the City Speakers?"

Wheeljack raised an eyebrow, "Sounds pretty insane if you ask me. But if he did, then why?"

"Honestly, I don't know if I even want to know," Windblade leaned back, resting against the crate and rubbing at her forehead, "All I do know is that if he really did, then everything going bad with Caminus right now could be traced back to him. It's… too much."

"Hmm. What did the others say about it?"

"Fixit and Jetfire didn't say anything," Windblade answered, "But Ultra Magnus said something about Prima. He said that the Prime of Justice wanted future generations to know about all the Primes' actions."

"Sounds to me like if he really did do something, then the mech regretted it," Wheeljack said, getting Windblade's curiosity as she slowly sat back up, "Think about it. If he wanted everyone to know the truth, then he probably didn't want anyone singing his praises. Honestly, if I were him, I'd probably do the same thing. You?"

"I…" Windblade went quiet again, unable to say another word as her optics went wide with worry and self-doubt, a look all too familiar to Wheeljack whenever he looked in a mirror back at the academy.

Wheeljack got up from his crate and patted her shoulder, "Hey, it's cool if you don't know. This Thirteen Prime business sounds like something you have to figure out and decide on for yourself." Smirking, he said, "Just remember to take it easy. Got enough overly serious sticklers on this ship as is."

Managing to get a smile out of the femme, Wheeljack removed his servo from her shoulder as she jumped off the crate. "Okay, I'll try to do that," Picking up her empty oil cup, she handed it to him and said, "Thanks for the drink. Don't think it's as good as the oil back home though."

"Oh, everyone's a critic," Wheeljack rolled his optics as Windblade headed out. As she walked down the ramp, he tossed the cup aside and asked, "Where you heading?"

"To talk with Elita. There's… a lot I need to ask her," She looked back at him, her smile seeming a lot brighter now.

"Good luck!" Wheeljack opened a crate and pulled out another drink, "Need any liquid courage before you go?"

Nervously, she held her servos up and slowly backed away, "Eh, no thanks. Oil's fine, but if your Con Concussion's anything to go by, I'm better off doing this sober."

"Suit yourself," Wheeljack shrugged as she walked off, leaving him and his ship to occupy the docking bay. Cracking the canister open, he took a whiff, "… Okay, that smells… disturbingly like Tox-En." Staring into the canister, he carefully closed it and put it down before turning attention to the drink crates in his ship, "Maybe I need to dump inventory."

Elita-1 kept her gaze forward, piloting the ship as stars flew by. All the while, her mind remained somewhat disconnected, focused on her discussion with the young Camien. She could only think of the pain and confusion in Windblade's optics, her storming off, and how she was the cause of it.

Maybe I should've stalled? Come up with some excuse to put things on hold? She shook her head, rubbing at her left temple, Let's face it, Elita, she would've learned these things one way or another. Better from us than a Decepticon. Besides, something tells me she isn't the only Camien who's going to know the truth.

"Elita?" Windblade's voice came from behind, the Autobot so lost in thought that she didn't even hear the door open. Turning around, she set the ship to autopilot and saw the Camien walk over, returning to her previous seat. With a deep, forlorn sigh, Windblade looked her in the optic and said, "I think I'm ready to hear the rest."

Blinking in surprise, Elita asked, "You're sure? The Primes' ending isn't a happy one."

"Yeah," Windblade nodded, still appearing uncertain, "But first, I have a question: How did you learn all this? I asked around the ship, and I get Ultra Magnus knowing because of his background, but you? He said Nominus suppressed this stuff from Cybertron's history."

Feeling a warmth in her Spark, Elita smiled and answered, "For starters, I was a history teacher before the war. Helps that my mentor was once a student of Alpha Trion's. And if you talked with the others, I don't think I need to explain who that is."

"Wait, really?" Windblade asked, gaining a bit of that excitement from before.

"Yup," Elita nodded, fond memories of her mentor, Zeta of Sistex, pouring into her processor from back when she was just Ariel. The Archivist turned Senator turned High Councilor had once been a near constant in her life, having helped foster her love of history and desire to teach it. Despite Sentinel continuing Nominus' suppression of Cybertron's ancient past, Zeta never hid it from her, showing her everything Alpha Trion had shown him. He even encouraged her to teach it to others, despite her then shy demeanor and how it could've put him at risk if Sentinel discovered where she'd learned such things. Those were happier times that she'd always cherish and hold close to Spark.

But often, she found that they were marred by everything that came after, and what became of him. She could still remember that day so clearly in her mind: How the height of the High Council Tower exploded, how she drove to the scene as fast as her wheels could carry her, how everyone at the tower's ground level screamed and panicked, how she searched and sifted through the rubble for survivors until her servos bled, and how she found Zeta's lifeless body buried beneath it all.

Her mentor, the closest thing she had to a father, killed alongside Sentinel and the rest of the attending council, all as the opening salvo of Megatron's war.

"Elita? You still with me?"

Windblade shook her out of it, leaving the Autobot leader to gently rub at her forehead, "Yeah, sorry about that. I mention him and things just start coming up. Usually, I just try not to think about it too much."

"Want to talk about it?" The Camien asked.

"No, not now at least. You said you wanted answers, yes?" Elita put the memories aside for now, focusing on the young femme sitting in front of her, "Should we start where we left off?"

Getting a quiet nod in reply, Elita sighed, "After Megatronus killed his brothers, Prima's rage was boundless, and he faced him alone as Trinitus, Autonomous, and Solus fought against the rest of the Fallen's armies. The first and twelfth Prime fought without restraint for Solar Cycles on end until they could barely stand, leaving Crystal City and the surrounding landscape as nothing more than smoldering ruins."

Windblade listened with rapt attention, Elita making certain she was still okay before continuing, "Prima won out though, using the Star Saber to sever Megatronus' arm and Requiem Blaster, and the fallen Prime was forced to flee, abandoning his forces. The rest of the Primes bested the armies not long after, but Prima's wounds had caught up with him." Just as it looked like Windblade would gasp, Elita quickly clarified, "He didn't die. He just went into stasis."

"Oh," Windblade looked torn, like she didn't know what to feel, before her optics lit up in realization, "Wait, you never mentioned Maximus Prime fighting in the war."

"Caught that, didn't you?" Elita mirthlessly chuckled, "He was there at the beginning, having gathered his own army against the Fallen just like the rest of the Primes, but when the battle started, he abandoned everyone."

Windblade's optics went wide again, finger scratching against her cheek. "Wait a nanoklik," She muttered, putting pieces together in her head as her speech accelerated alarmingly, "Ultra Magnus said that Maximus deceived the Primes. If he didn't help in the battle, then that means-"

"Windblade!" Elita gently held the Camien in place as she began to shake, servos gently holding her arms, "Calm down."

Nodding, the Camien took a deep, calming breath, repeating the process a few times. Elita privately admitted that it was a bit amusing, seeing as they didn't physically need to breathe at all, but the act certainly helped calm one's neural net. It reminded her of how Rack and Ruin competed with each other to see who could hold their breath the longest. The whole thing lasted about three nanokliks before Ruin talked first and lost.

"Okay, I think I'm good," Windblade said as she looked up at Elita, "So, the entire thing was just a trick? Maximus manipulated the other Primes into killing each other?" The Autobot leader nodded, Windblade asking one last question, "Why?"

"Can't say for certain," Elita stared out at the passing stars, "Alpha Trion believed that he wanted Cybertron and her colonies for himself and saw fit to manipulate the Primes against one another. If so, then when the oath they swore came about, it became another tool for him to use. He couldn't provoke Nexus, nor Amalgamous, nor Micronus, nor Solus, and he knew trying to manipulate Trinitus and Autonomous into waging war with their family was a lost cause. So, he goaded the one Prime he could."

"Megatronus."

"Yeah, helps that even before everything went down, he was always a wrathful, angry, bloodthirsty bully chaffing under Prima's leadership, and he just got worse over time as Prima became more paranoid," Elita said, remembering her first time meeting Alpha Trion, where she got to ask many similar questions that Windblade asked. The old mech never had many nice things to say about either the Fallen or Maximus, even if it was clear as day that he felt himself even lower than them, no matter how highly the likes of Zeta and Orion spoke of him.

"Actually, on the subject of Prima and paranoia, there's something I've been wondering about, but I just can't put it into words…" Windblade went silent, expression downtrodden as she clasped her servos together in her lap.

"Hey," Elita drew her attention, "If it's something you don't feel ready to discuss, you don't have to force yourself."

"But I need to-" The Camien cut herself off, "Frag! I thought I'd be ready to ask this now!" She sighed in frustration, "Okay, let me try something else."

Elita wasn't sure about this, but seeing the determination in Windblade's optics, she gave a reassuring smile and said, "Whatever it is, I'll try to answer as best I can."

Nodding, Windblade took one final breath and asked, "At the battle of the Primes, what role did the Titans play?"

"They… didn't?" Elita raised a metallic eyebrow, not understanding what she was getting at, "Windblade the Titans were long since put to sleep by…" She quietly gasped, optics wide as she understood, Oh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Windblade hugged herself, the fears she had now confirmed.

"I'm sorry," Elita said, not knowing what else to say.

"You don't need to apologize. I'm the one who asked, and I had my suspicions before, so it doesn't hurt as much," Windblade shrugged, it being clear that just because the pain was mitigated didn't mean it wasn't there, "I still don't understand why he did it though," She said, releasing herself from her grip, "I kept trying to think of why Prima would do such a thing, and I still can't figure it out." Looking up into Elita's optics, she asked, "Did Alpha or Zeta say anything?"

Elita nodded, "One of Cybertron's Titans, Iaconus, went on a rampage and began destroying his namesake city. The Thirteen arrived to stop him, but Prima rushed ahead, hoping to end the threat quickly. He fought and defeated the Titan alone, but the devastation caused brought an end to early Iacon and the countless lives there." She looked down at her servos, remembering how they shook when Zeta first told her this story, "Though the city was eventually restored, Prima never forgave himself for what happened. The Titan fled after the battle, and the first Prime became isolated from his brothers, none of them approaching to give him space."

"So that's why…" Windblade whispered, optics shimmering, "He wanted to make sure nobody could awaken the Titans again."

"He believed that if one could go rogue, all of them could," Elita said, having surmised the same thing when listening to her mentor. "And while it doesn't excuse what he did, the fault isn't entirely on his shoulders alone. He was already teetering on the edge when someone gave him a final push," Her expression darkened, "Take a guess."

"Maximus," Windblade breathed out in anger, not something Elita expected given her upbringing regarding the Primes, but things were changing. Whether for good or for ill had yet to be seen. "He tricked him into sealing the Titans away, into taking the City Speakers from my home!" She stood up, optics blazing in fury, "He tricked Prima into cutting us off from Cybertron! He… he…" Windblade's gaze met Elita's, and the Camien slowly calmed down, sitting back in her seat, not saying another word.

"Windblade, it's okay to be angry," Elita reassured her, "You're allowed to vent. Feel's like it'd be more concerning if you didn't."

"Trust me, I'm still mad. I just…" Windblade sighed and slumped back, "I don't know how to express it. Not like it'll undo everything."

"Maybe not, but it helps."

Windblade made a noncommittal hum, crossing her arms as she said, "So, if I were to take a guess, Prima went out to put the Titans beyond Cybertron to sleep while the rest of the Primes stayed home, right?"

"According to Alpha Trion, Prima claimed he needed to take a 'pilgrimage' of some kind to find himself," Elita answered, Windblade nodding back.

"And when he got back, he tried to do the same with the remaining Titans," Windblade looked up in thought, "You said Onyx was exiled, right? Is that related to all this?" Elita nodded, Windblade leaning forward, "I can only guess he didn't take too kindly to what Prima was doing."

"No, he didn't. When Prima came to put Onyx's Titan, Chela, into a permanent slumber, the Prime of Beasts stood against him," Elita described what she'd learned, "The two did battle, Prima besting his brother. But for all that he was falling to paranoia and arrogance, in the end, Prima refused to kill his own kin. Instead, he forced Onyx into exile, and the eighth Prime left aboard Chela with his fellow Beastformers, never to be heard from again."

Elita could see the gears moving in Windblade's head, the pieces all coming together. Bit by bit, she was understanding, even without needing to be told exactly what happened. After all, it didn't take much to realize why Quintus and Alchemist left after that. Even still, Windblade had one final question, "How did it all end?"

Seems she's getting tired of this too, Elita saw the exhaustion, physical and emotional, within Windblade's optics. It was a feeling she shared in, reminiscing about the tales of the Primes always taking so much out of her. In these times, she envied Optimus, her Conjunx having a much easier time with the subject. With a heavy, tired breath, Elita focused on the Camien and saw fit to conclude the tale.

"After the battle, Solus, Trinitus, and Autonomous took Prima to recover, putting what remained of the Fallen's armies in suspended animation until he awoke to determine their punishment. But the three realized what Maximus had been doing, and Solus rushed to hunt after her brother. Autonomous wanted to follow her, but Trinitus stopped him, for their place was to watch over Prima. They waited, and waited, and waited, but Solus never returned."

"Maximus killed her?" Windblade asked, horror brought to the forefront. An understandable reaction, given Solus' importance to Caminus, even among Primes, but Elita shook her head.

"In all honesty, we don't know. When Alpha Trion came to Maximus' fortress in the Forgotten Plains, he said that there was nothing of the two remaining. All he saw was a devastated throne room, splatters of dry Energon everywhere. He'd even scanned it, and all of it belonged to Maximus, yet there was no sign of Solus either. Not even their weapons were ever recovered."

Everything went quiet between them for a moment before Windblade finally said, "I really hope he died."

"You're not the only one," Elita said with a light chuckle, prompting Windblade to release a bark of laughter. As it died down, Elita leaned back and stared at the ceiling, the weight of their entire discussion coming down on her. Sitting back up, she asked, "So… how are you feeling?"

The Camien gained that lost look in her optics again, hugging her knees to her chestplate, "If I'm being honest with myself, I'm still not sure what to feel about this. I was taught my entire life about the Primes, but… there's so much I didn't know, that Caminus didn't know, and part of me that wishes I never asked to begin with. I don't think that's going to go away anytime soon."

"Can't say I blame you for feeling that way," Elita said, leaning forward.

"But at the same time, I think I'm starting to understand why things turned out like they did," Windblade let out a small smile, "In the end, the Primes aren't who we thought them to be. They were flawed, just like any bot, and that's okay." Her smile slowly began to fade as a melancholic sigh escaped her lips, "At least, it should be okay. But I don't know if I'm okay with it. I don't know if I'll ever be okay with it."

"Honestly? My best advice is that you take things one step at a time. Not everything needs to be figured out in one fell swoop," Her words drew a small grin on Windblade's face, which only grew as Elita returned the gesture, "And besides, part of being an Autobot is being there for each other. So, if it ever starts getting to you, don't be afraid to let us know. I can't guarantee we'll have all the answers, but we'll do everything we can."

Windblade's grin became almost infectious. "That'll be enough, Elita," She said, rushing forward and enveloping her in a hug, "Thank you."

Elita returned the gesture, hugging her gently and patting her back, "Anytime, Windblade."

After a few nanokliks, they released from the hug, but right as they did…

"Excuse me, General, but I-"

"WAAAAH!" Windblade yelped, wings extending as she jumped into the air and flew headfirst into the ceiling. Elita swiftly turned amidst this, seeing Ultra Magnus standing at the side, servos behind his back and waiting patiently. He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could get a word in, Windblade plummeted to the floor, whimpering, "Whyyyyyyyyy…"

"Sorry," Ultra Magnus said, looking down at Windblade apologetically as Elita helped her up.

"Ugh, how long were you standing there?" Windblade asked as she could, sarcasm evident.

"Approximately 4 Cycles and 35 nanokliks as of this moment," Ultra Magnus replied, evidently not hearing said sarcasm, "It would've been rude to interrupt General Elita, so I waited."

Elita was about to remind him about calling her by rank, but shook it off, turning to see Windblade frozen in bewilderment at the much larger, surprisingly stealthy mech in front of them. She couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the whole thing, even if it was somewhat embarrassing. Though if nothing else, this was still significantly less embarrassing than during the old movement's heyday, where Ratchet walked in on her and Orion having a moment.

That had been… awkward for all three of them, to put it mildly.

Not wanting to relive that memory, Elita asked, "Got anything for us, Magnus?"

"We've finished deciphering the data recovered from the Carnival Seekers," Ultra Magnus placed his fingers to the side of his helm, optics flashing as he looked up to display a holo-map similar to Prowl's, "We've uncovered the locations of several Insecticon hives and weapons caches, as well as Decepticon patrol routes, though those might be out of date depending on when Ramjet and Dirge left."

"Any information's useful, even the old kind," Elita commented. She'd learned a long time ago that just because something was old, that didn't make it obsolete.

"True, though the most significant area of interest we found is this," Ultra Magnus' map zoomed in across stars and planets, arriving at a large orbital platform floating just at the edge of a massive gas giant's gravity well. The giant itself has two large rings comprised of asteroids that extended far beyond the platform, intersecting in a crisscross pattern.

"What is it?" Windblade asked, leaning closer to the hologram with narrowed optics.

"It's a Decepticon Lookout Post," Elita explained, servos to her hips, "It's a base that surveys the surrounding the surrounding area for any potential Autobot or organic targets that happen to fly near while doubling as a rest stop for any Decepticon patrols." She rubbed her chin and mused, "More importantly, these bases also relay and receive information from any nearby Space Bridges under Decepticon control."

"Including schedules," Ultra Magnus finished, clearly having thought of the same thing.

"What are you guys getting at?" Windblade looked between them in confusion.

"This outpost may have details regarding the Space Bridge's guard shifts. If we get that, we'll know when it'll be at its most vulnerable," Elita told the Camien, who's confusion changed to intrigue.

"And we'll be able to get to Caminus much faster!"

"There is a caveat, however," Ultra Magnus interrupted Windblade's bout of mirth, "By mine and Prowl's estimates, it will take approximately two Solar Cycles for us to reach it from our current flight path, with an additional two for us to get back on track. We'll be putting ourselves behind, and as of now, we have no way of knowing if the shift change will have occurred by then."

"O-Oh…"

"More importantly, should we go and end up spotted, there's a chance they'll alert any nearby Space Bridges of our presence, resulting in potentially greater forces to deal with than what we would've otherwise," Ultra Magnus concluded as he dispersed the hologram.

"So if we decide to go, stealth will be vital," Elita surmised, noting it was good they had a Cyber-Ninja onboard. High risk, high reward, She mused over the possibilities, Either we go, succeed, and make things easier on us later, or it ends up being a waste of time that just makes what's to come even harder. Weighing between those two, while she felt the risk was worth it if it meant helping others, she could see in Ultra Magnus' optics that he preferred the cautious route of just dealing with the potential Space Bridge forces as they were rather than risk adding to them. Both sides had merit, so to settle things, Elita turned to Windblade and asked, "What do you think?"

"Me?" Windblade asked in shock.

"Well, when it all comes down, Caminus is your home. It's only fitting that you be the one to decide," Elita answered, giving a reassuring smile, "And don't worry, there aren't any right or wrong answers here."

"Only between a small Decepticon force, a large but still manageable one, or a potentially insurmountable one," Magnus added in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Windblade to briefly freeze in terror and nervousness while Elita leveled a small glare at him. "What?"

"Please don't make me take back what I said about talking with you," Windblade groaned, hiding her face behind her servos.

"Sorry," Magnus said, nodding, "Proceed."

Elita and Magnus watched as Windblade scratched her cheek. The Camien began pacing around the Alpha-5's bridge, walking back and forth to come up with an answer. From where she stood, Elita couldn't tell what exactly was going through her head, but it was clear that both options weighed heavily on her. She eventually stopped, back turned to them as her posture hunched, making a number of gestures with her servos that they couldn't see.

Finally, Windblade walked back to them and, with a nervous smile, said, "Let's do it. If it can help make things easier, then I think it's worth the risk."

Elita smiled back and gave a proud nod to the Camien. "In that case," She turned towards Ultra Magnus, who faced her in kind, "I'll divert our course for the Lookout Post. You call in everyone and tell them to report to the bridge."

If we're doing this, we better plan everything out in advance.

"Understood!" Ultra Magnus saluted and took his seat, activating the ships comms as Elita punched in the new destination coordinates, all while Windblade took her seat and waited for everyone to arrive.