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Nov 30, 2025

Hunter and Hunted

@somereaderinblue @jazzimena a continuation of the "what if"

The dim orange lights overhead cast shadows on the control panel in the cockpit of the Darkstar, but it was enough for Megatron's lost officer to see her readouts. She scanned the panel's contents with a critical gaze, her monocle enlarging certain details as needed.

"Status report on the Dawn Treader's condition," she ordered.

Behind her, the steady, methodical tread of Thundercracker moved toward his station. Buttons were hit, and he answered, "Their systems are offline, an' tha engine seems ta be dead in the water. Blackout, how's their communications network?"

The sound of the black Seeker's digits dancing over his controls echoed in the cockpit. A moment later, he grunted, "Inoperative, but I doubt Blaster will be fool enough to let it stay that way."

"Send out the Recordions. Tell 'em to raise Pit and wreck the ship's communications system after securing the inside," she barked, the sound of Redwing's pedesteps leaving for the landing platform telling her that the order had been followed. A few minutes later it hissed open, and with a roar and a howl, two dark forms that could reach her hip if reared on their hind legs shot out from under the ship. Although their colors stood out against the glistening snow of the location where they'd forced the Autobots to land, the rapidly declining daylight ensured that they wouldn't be seen by prying optics as they disappeared into the treeline.

Redwing swore through the comm before commenting, "Glad I'm not those saps. We haven't let 'em have a good hunt in cycles."

His crimson twin sister laughed before jesting, "C'mon, bro! Don't you wanna see some 'Bots be torn to shreds, or even get to tell Lord Megatron what we accomplished?"

"That'll only happen if you pipe down and do as I say, Chemtrail," she warned, not even looking up from her readings. Analyzing it, she stood, turned, and directed over the comm, "Stock up on new charges for your null-rays and grab some decoy transmitters. Thundercracker, take the north. Blackout, you've got the south. Redwing, you're on the western point. Chemtrail, you're taking the east where I can see you. If you hold your glossa and follow orders, I might even let you snipe some of our targets, but Blaster and his own Recordions are to be captured alive. Understood?"

They all affirmed, and even Chemtrail's motormouth managed to keep her answer single worded. With a nod, she went on, "Once the rest of you have performed your duties, report back to me. Redwing and Blackout are to then maintain custody of the Dawn Treader. If you let your guard down and lose the cargo along with the ship, you'll answer to me."

"Got it," Redwing answered as Blackout nodded his own understanding. Her wrist-mounted console beeped, and with a glance, she saw that the Recordions had taken the ship and destroyed the comm network. Three Autobots had fled while two were downed and incapacitated inside the ship, leaving the Recordions with the cargo they sought.

She typed out a single command: One of you hold the ship while the other keeps track of the 'Bots. Dealer's choice for who takes which job.

Letting her arm fall to her side, she walked past her subordinates toward the armory. With a smile that was known to terrify even the most battle-hardened warriors of Cybertron, she said, "Let's begin our hunt."

Optimus walked into the main room of the base, deep in thought. Although it was only some weeks in the wake of their experience with the Synth-En project, his nerves had suddenly come alive with anxiety. Yes, he would admit privately that he was still reeling from Ratchet's inner thoughts on his policies that had come out so explosively, but this was different. It felt like a premonition of sorts, except for the fact that the Matrix only hummed occasionally. Perhaps it was a more subdued threat than when Megatron had returned after his three year absence. Regardless, Optimus thought it best to monitor the station this morning.

Approaching the terminal, he glanced sideways at the recreational room they had for the humans. Vince had chosen to spend the night at the base, in part because despite the lawyer Airborne had found who had won the case Flint had filed against his parents, his personal belongings - such as they were, according to Vince - were not yet ready to be moved into Flint's own residence at this time.

Miko had said, however, that she was perfectly willing to help him with that this Saturday. She had also chosen to remain at the base overnight, and it had been quite the debate to keep her from immediately going over to Vince's house to...."steal back" his things in the dark of night. Apparently, despite knowing better, Miko thought it would be an apt method to strike back against his parents.

Don't kid yourself, son. You would have tried something similar before you became a Prime, his mother's teasing voice echoed in his helm on a whim.

Optimus couldn't help but smile as he began typing at the console. Dion had always been the more direct between them, but when not at Alpha Trion's side in the Hall of Records, Orion Pax had on more than one occasion seen fit to....reacquire the ill-gotten belongings of those who had wronged his friends.

Even millennia later, Wing Saber had not pried the secret behind those feats from him.

As Optimus searched the terminal's inventory, cataloguing what he needed to request of both Lady Jaye and Agent Fowler, an alarm went off by the couch. He spared a glance, and was in time to see Vince groan and slap his hand around until he'd found his phone. Grumbling, he switched it off, then mumbled, "Christmas break is still on. Why'd I set that?"

As Optimus returned his focus to the screen, Miko, apparently awoken quite easily, shifted and blurted, "WAIT, SABATON IS IN VEGAS TODAY!"

Vince became more awake as he noted, "We're in the same timezone, though. Bee can take us through the GroundBridge someplace nearby in....two, three hours? Aren't they on at ten?"

In his peripheral, Optimus saw the blanket Miko had claimed get thrown aside with great emotion. "Yeah, but we each have a problem with sleeping in. Come on dude, we gotta get ready!!"

As he checked the console's readings from last night, Vince foggily complained, "I still don't see why Smoke couldn't take us."

"Smokescreen is needed with Flint at his office work today, in part to patrol for or defend the area from Decepticon activity," Optimus explained, not looking up from his place. Both teenagers noticeably jerked at his voice, and turning to them, he smiled slightly and sheepishly went on, "I apologize for startling you. I might also add that Bumblebee has been bored easily as of late, and requires stimulation of some kind. A heavy metal band - one that also recounts historical events - has had him almost begging for a chance to be freed from his own duties."

Vince threw his own covers off and yawned. "Alright, I'll just record it as best I can for Smokescreen," he stated, grabbing his day clothes and walking toward the bathroom.

Optimus smiled and turned back to his station as the sounds of the others entered the building.

Smokescreen was staying at Flint's house, specifically the garage, and thus he called them on the comm once he and Flint were at the office. Arcee and Bulkhead entered, making jokes about the locations they were investigating for energon deposits, while the sounds of Ratchet quietly cleaning his medical tools reached Optimus' audio receptors a short distance away. He grimaced on instinct, still feeling guilty for a multitude of reasons over the Synth-En incident, when a notification caught his optic. He stared at it, blinking as Bumblebee's twitters and Cliffjumper's voice filled the space by the recreational room.

The notification was one of the more deeply encrypted codes he and his officers had created - specifically on a frequency and level of detail he had cooperated with Jazz and Blaster on to create for both top secret messages and emergencies.

Opening the message, Optimus' digits flew over the keyboard. This particular code required the recipient to manually break down the message's outer encryption. Were it anyone other than perhaps Soundwave, it would take cycles to undo.

Optimus, having been one of the inventors of the code, opened it in two minutes.

His optics scanned the contents of the message once, then a second time. It was broken sentences, perhaps corrupted during transit, but it still made his frame turn cold.

Optimus Prime, this is Blas ------ requesting immediate assist ----- follow the origin ----- Mountains, Decepticons on our ----- they're led by-

It ended there, likely after impact. Optimus considered the words for a long moment, then closed the message and began ascertaining its origin point. After a few minutes, he found that it was somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky.

Most of the country had suffered a series of severe snowstorms especially the East Coast. Navigating the landscape would be hazardous, but doable.

Before Optimus could set the GroundBridge, a call came in from the Joes' office. Seeing that it was from Flint and Smokescreen, he answered it and asked, "Flint, Smokescreen, what may I assist you with?"

"Nothing right now, but Airborne caught wind of something from last night," Flint replied, then questioned, "Smokey, you got the pictures, right?"

"Yup. Passing 'em along now," the Elite Guardsman answered, and Optimus glanced at the time to realize it was shortly after eight in the morning.

Smokescreen's data package arrived with a soft ping, and Optimus immediately opened it. It showed blurred photos of what appeared to be a meteor burning up across the twilit sky. Optimus put each through a cleaning program as he asked, "Where were these taken?"

"Over Kentucky. Looks like it was headed toward the Appalachians. Airborne got on top of it by hearing chatter from the park rangers' complaints that were forwarded to Fowler," the lieutenant answered.

"Hmm," Optimus replied, looking over the cleaned and enhanced photos with a critical optic. He had not even considered the implications behind Airborne's actions until Smokescreen hurriedly added, "Don't worry though, Airborne got the intel from a file Fowler sent out to most of the senior officers."

"Ah," Optimus noted distractedly, then did a double take at one photo. Blowing it up, he scanned the area behind the meteor. Although the meteor was undoubtedly Blaster's ship, there was a mild aberration in the picture directly behind the vessel's trail.

It was possible that the disturbance was the result of a cloaked ship following them...

"Optimus? You okay?" Smokescreen asked, and Optimus physically shook his helm before replying, "Yes, Smokescreen. I am well. Maintain your post at the office. Flint, I will be forwarding a list of necessities to Lady Jaye momentarily."

"Copy that. Where will you be?" he inquired in turn.

Had Vince still been here, Optimus likely would have had a harder time of evading giving them a complete answer. As it was, he was already regretting hiding a portion of the truth from them.

"I will be investigating a new discovery of importance," Optimus responded, organizing the list and emailing it to Lady Jaye. "If I require aid, I will send for both Arcee and Bulkhead - perhaps even you, Smokescreen."

"Optimus," Flint started in a low tone as Smokescreen said in concern, "Should we be worried?"

Briefly, Optimus wondered if having Flint and Smokescreen as partners was a divine form of retribution for his and Dion's antics while living with their mother. Regardless, his instincts for danger that had been honed over a millennia long war couldn't deny the wisdom in affording them further instructions.

"If my signal disappears from scanners, or I do not report back after two hours, you may begin searching for me based off my last known location," Optimus reassured. "I will inform Ratchet before leaving."

With that he ended the transmission, and after explaining a degree of his plans and orders to Ratchet, he set off through the GroundBridge on foot.

He had heard about the Appalachians' terrain, and had long ago learned the dangers of driving in cold weather.

For the sake of his Autobots, he would not be taking any unnecessary chances if he could help it.

"Did something seem off to you about Prime?"

Smokescreen shifted, his holoform flickering in the lights of the office. Although his figure's blue jeans, white running shoes, and Letterman jacket over a black tee were at the moment practically see through, the cameras would actually capture him as if he were a real person.

He shrugged slightly at Flint, but nevertheless admitted, "Yeah, but I don't know if it's because of Ratchet or those pictures the park rangers found."

"I did think it was too big to be a meteor," Flint mused, going back to the computer. Smokescreen took a minute to turn his visuals back to his own internal readings and message board from the base, then took a seat next to Flint. Kicking a foot up on his knee, he observed, "The light from entering the atmosphere took up a bit much of its form, but it looked too big to be an escape pod."

"Then it could be a small ship? Like Wheeljack's?" Flint asked.

Smokescreen glanced at the photos Flint had open on the desktop. Staring at it for a long minute, he eventually shook his head and imparted, "No, I think our meteor is bigger than the Jackhammer."

Flint let out a low whistle. Opening up a DM to Fowler, he decided, "Better suggest we have the park rangers ready to call in anything unusual."

Smokescreen privately pulled up one of the images to look at. "Sounds like," he answered, still looking at their newcomers.

Now if it was you rather than Ratchet that's on Optimus' processor, what about you could be bothering him? he wondered.

The sound of snow crunching under his pedes was both a direct indication of his presence and a mildly peaceful chime to his audio receptors. However, Optimus could not allow himself to be lost in the beauty of the winter landscape.

The trees were tall enough to cloak his physical presence, while the overcast day prevented undue rays of sun from shining off his frame. Keeping his helm on a swivel, the thirty-degree temperatures kept his senses from losing an edge as the chill air forced him to remain alert.

Walking through the forest, Optimus took a pause to check his scanner. The radar pinged with neither Autobot nor Decepticon readings, though every now and then a wifi, telephone, or similar signal would go out.

Odd. This part of the Appalachians should be void of human settlements. Although it was not uncommon for some to live so far out from civilization, such people preferred to be off the grid.

A suspicion started to settle inside him, and Optimus checked the time. It was almost nine, according to the Mountain Time Zone, which would make it nearly eleven on the East Coast. Putting together a short message, he sent it back to base, masking its trajectory before he put the scanner away and began his trek once more.

His pace remained steady for another half hour, with still no signals from either faction. The occasional notification from human communication imparted the same level of annoyance as the time the base's old smoke detectors activated constantly not long after their arrival.

After another half hour, the scanner abruptly lit up. Optimus looked at it, and saw a purple helm with blue optics hidden underneath a square orange canopy.

Optics widening, Optimus opened the message and asked, "Huffer?"

"O-Optimus?" his voice, marred by static, answered. A tired exhale came, followed by, "Thank Primus, Blaster's distress call got through."

"Not entirely," he admitted, walking again and attempting to pinpoint the communication's source. "It was corrupted during transit, however enough came through for me to understand the situation. Where are you now?"

"Me? I'm...somewhere in a valley, at least I think I am," Huffer responded tiredly. He coughed, the static exacerbating the sound, and added, "Our ship took a beating, and we ended up scattering to avoid the 'Cons on our tailpipes."

"I understand. I am currently overlooking a small valley myself," Optimus replied, surveying the white landscape below. The cloud cover, previously a boon, was now a detriment, assuming that Huffer was not hiding beneath some trees.

White flecks of snow began falling, and a biting wind blew from behind Optimus.

He sighed. Typical, he thought to himself in irritation.

Taking a moment to determine the steepness of his slope, Optimus transferred his comm frequency to that which Huffer had reached out to him on, returned the scanner to his subspace, and relayed, "Continue speaking, Huffer. I will find my way to you, but I require your signal to remain active."

With that, he took a step back and made a leap. Landing on the side of the hill, he slid down the slope as the engineer responded, "Alright, but I might ask you to hurry. One of the 'Cons got me good, and I've been leaking energon for a while."

"Worry not, Huffer," Optimus answered, feeling a slight smile come to his face as he rolled onto the level and broke into a sprint. "I have no intention to delay myself."

A whistle made Flint look up from his conversation with Lady Jaye over the resupply of items Optimus had sent. Seeing it was Airborne, who was now waving over Smokescreen, the Navajo called, "Found something yer all gonna wanna see."

They shared a look, and once Lady Jaye had started for the planning room where Airborne had summoned them to, he followed. Closing the door behind him, Flint moved further in as Lady Jaye asked, "So what is it?"

In response, Airborne tapped a few keys and pulled up some new pictures on the big screen. With the lighting and a glance at the timestamps, Flint could tell these were taken earlier today. There were four jets in the scattered images. One was a blue and gray Boeing Super Hornet, another was a jet black F-14 Tomcat, and two others were almost alien to him, not helped by their crimson red color scheme.

Despite that, Flint's mind couldn't shake a sense of familiarity regarding the red jets.

"Riddle me this: what makes these fighters so unusual?" the Navajo asked, a dark humor coating his words.

As Smokescreen stepped closer to the screen, tilting his head, Lady Jaye noted dryly, "Well, other than the clear violation of military protocol with that modern day Flying Circus, I got nothin' beyond them bein' Decepticons."

"Those red ones are a make I don't recognize," Flint put in, rubbing his jaw. "But they look like Lockheeds."

"Yer both right," Airborne answered, then pointed at the crimson fighters. "Those ones there? Those are Lockheed YF-22s. Only two were ever made, and one is currently sitting in the Air Force Flight Test Museum while the other is in storage."

"Decepticons all right," Flint grunted. All of a sudden Smokescreen spun toward Airborne and questioned urgently, "Where were these taken?"

"In the Appalachians of Kentucky by sightseers," the Navajo replied immediately. Flint's eyes widened, and turning to Smokescreen, he demanded, "What time is it?"

"Quarter past ten," he responded, then his holoform flickered as he consulted his readings. After a tense few seconds, his holoform brightened, and the expression was one of confusion and fear.

"Optimus hasn't called in, and his signal is reading a few miles farther than when he talked to us," Smokescreen stated, then whirled back toward the screen. Turning to Airborne, Flint ordered, "Get eyes in the air out there, on the ground, everything. Use thermal binoculars if you have to."

As Airborne immediately got on the phone with Fowler, Smokescreen muttered, "Oh no."

"Now what?" Lady Jaye asked sarcastically as they looked at him.

To their mutual surprise, Smokescreen's holoform thinned to a phantom appearance. His voice, which sounded like an echo and which must have been him letting them overhear, directed, "Cliffjumper, I need you to leave Jasper and take my place at the office. I'm going back to base, and I'm gonna be calling in Arcee and Bulkhead to go find Optimus with me once Ratchet's done checking the terminal."

"Kid, what's going on?" Flint asked.

"I know who they are, and who's leading them," Smokescreen answered tightly, gesturing to the screen before his holoform disappeared. Bolting out the door, Flint raced through the building, practically hearing the screaming of rubber on pavement before he stopped just by the window.

The gleaming form of Smokescreen's McLaren alt-mode shined as he turned onto the dirt far from the asphalt road, his form vanishing from sight seconds later.

Be careful and be fast, Smokescreen, he thought, shoulders tensing as his uselessness in this situation sank in.

Optimus' had ceased his run about five minutes ago, and was now at a calmer pace. Keeping his optics on his surroundings, he listened as Huffer said, "After leaving Sandokan, we picked up traces of your path to this planet. We got a tail sometime between then and last night's crash. Can't help but wonder where the others from the Dawn Treader are right about now."

"I am nearing your position as we speak, Huffer," Optimus assured, checking his scanner briefly. As it so happened, he was just eight hundred feet away. Putting it away, he quickened his stride and added, "Once you are all safely returned to base, perhaps I could show you the sights of this planet's architectural wonders."

"I doubt they're that good," Huffer laughed, the sound distorted with static.

Optimus froze, the cold air seeming to slap him in the face as snowflakes continued to fall more rapidly.

Huffer never laughed.

Glancing around, suddenly feeling conscious of optics watching him, Optimus activated his left cannon. Starting forward again, he kept his helm on a swivel as he commented pointedly, "I do not recall you having a sense of humor, Huffer. Has so much changed since we saw each other last?"

There was a pause that, while short during Optimus' approach, confirmed the ruse. As another hundred feet were put behind him, Huffer stated, "Not really. I think the energon loss is making me delirious."

"Ah, so that is why your voice has gained strength during our long conversation," Optimus guessed, extending his face mask. However, the air cleared enough that he could suddenly see limbs sticking out from behind a tree ahead of him.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," the voice answered, the static now sounding artificially induced.

"I'm certain," Optimus responded, slowly making his way toward the tree. As he made out the orange of the legs and white-silver of the arms, Optimus continued, "Tell me, who were your companions on the Dawn Treader?"

"'Were'? Prime, you sound like you think they're all dead," the voice countered, the tone accompanied by a distorted noise that sounded like a pleased growl.

"Who. Were. They?" Optimus insisted, barely a hundred feet away from the immobile form hiding behind the tree, the snow falling faster now.

There was another laugh, but this one sent a shiver down his backstrut. "Blaster was the CO, along with someone by the name of Treadbolt," it answered, and Optimus noticed a disturbance on the back of the tree trunk. As he began to circle around it, the voice went on, "Then there was Pitstop the fighter, a punk of a kid named Tailgate..."

Optimus had made it all around the tree, his arm cannon falling to his side as his optics widened in horror.

Pinned to the tree by a crude spear was the body of whom he thought he'd been speaking with. His orange, purple, and white-silver body was slumped over the spear, the color quickly fading to be replaced with a gunmetal gray color. The optics were lifeless, the voice box sparking weakly as ripped armor panels were frozen in place from a vicious attack. Meanwhile, a once steady flow of energon had pooled directly beneath the entry point of the spear, and droplets of energon had turned to sickly ice on his abdomen.

"...And a yapping grouch who called himself Huffer."

The air charged up, and on instinct he dove out of the way as a bolt from a rifle filled the space where his shoulder had been. Optimus sprung to his pedes, took loose aim, and fired in the general direction of the sniper. Movement sounded - no cries of pain to discern his fire had found its target - when a black blur about the size of a bear darted forward and lunged for him through the white screen. Optimus turned, jaws that would have latched on to his voice box instead closed on the weak spot between his shoulder and neck. A painful bout of electricity surged through his body, and he stumbled back with a cry. He tried to retract his cannon, found it uncooperative, and instead slammed the barrel into the being's frame.

It shuddered upon impact, the charge momentarily dissipating. Taking the opportunity, Optimus retracted the cannon, grasped his assailant, and tore him off and threw him against the snow. He got up with a hiss, shook himself, and turned blazing red optics on him as his tail lashed.

"Ravage," he addressed, straightening as sparks flew from his shoulder.

"Hello, Prime," the Recordion snarled, giving a twisted smile. "How convenient that you're all alone out here."

"I could say the same of you," Optimus returned, straining his audio receptors for the sniper. "I had last seen you with Soundwave before the Exodus."

"Don't you know?" Ravage taunted with glee. "My master gave me different orders."

"That's right," a low female voice broke in.

Optimus turned, and was in time for a violet pede to connect with his chest. The impact, enhanced by inertia, sent him careening back before the aggressor simultaneously pushed off and delivered a spinning kick to his face. Optimus grunted as he was sent spiraling backwards, connecting with the snowy ground as the frigid cold seeped into his wound. Rolling over, he pushed himself up on his elbows and saw that the newcomer was a violet femme with a lean build, her left optic sporting a crimson monocle.

Brutal pain piercing his abdomen, Roulette's white frame flickering to reveal the same femme, grinning wickedly as his senses dissolved into darkness. A dimly lit room, his forearms pinned above his helm as heavy chains stretched across both his shoulders and around his waist. All attempts to strain against the chains only made them dig into the wounds the femme had visited upon him in her attempts to gain information from him while awaiting Megatron's arrival.

Optimus' processor had momentarily gone numb, and it gave the femme a chance to approach as she swung her rifle over to her left servo.

"Shadowstriker," he stated, the name grating off his glossa as it exited his mouth.

Megatron's assassin chuckled darkly. "Look at that, you do remember me after that little encounter in Tyger Pax," Shadowstriker noted with a smirk.

"It is next to impossible to forget that 'encounter'," Optimus returned, forcing himself to a stand and extending his right blade, optics darting between Shadowstriker and Ravage as the feline Recordion flanked her.

"Then you'll be pleased to know I haven't lost my touch," she stated sardonically, swiftly lifting her rifle up and firing a shot at him.

Optimus dodged the round, then rushed her. Shadowstriker flipped the rifle around and parried his first blow with it. Dropping it as he recovered from the strike, she pulled out and activated an energy machete and lunged for him. Optimus blocked the attack, his wound protesting the movement and allowing her to push him back. With a grunt, he forced her away, then extended his left cannon and fired at her. Shadowstriker ably avoided the first shot, ducked the next one as she neared him, then grabbed his cannon and pushed herself off the ground. Swinging a leg over his weapon, Shadowstriker propelled herself up and over and slammed her shin into his helm.

Optimus staggered back, retracting his weapons subconsciously as his vision swam. Something ran forward, and once more Ravage tackled him. This time he was thrown to the ground, the Recordion's denta making a deeper gouge in his left shoulder plating as fewer charges wracked his body. Blinking through the haze, Optimus managed to grab Ravage and throw him off. As soon as he was out of his hold, Optimus extended both cannons and fired blindly in the direction of both his aggressors.

That successfully kept them from nearing him, but shots behind him made Optimus look back. Descending the hill behind him was a massive golden 'Bot, a barely conscious 'Bot of red, silver, and yellow in her arms as she skidded down. On her trail was a blue and gray male Seeker and a crimson colored female Seeker, both of whom were raining fire down on the femme. In spite of the shots that he faintly recognized as null-rays, the golden clad 'Bot seemed impervious to the onslaught.

A pede once more connected with his chest, this time pinning him to the ground. Optimus groaned, then stared up into Shadowstriker's gleaming optics.

"It'll be fun to see what Megatron has in store for you," she commented, and with a flick of her wrist, a small blaster extended from underneath her forearm and aimed at Optimus.

All of a sudden, a GroundBridge opened behind her, and an engine screamed before Arcee transformed and collided pedes first with Shadowstriker's back. Both femmes went flying over Optimus, who attempted to roll over as Bulkhead and Smokescreen darted out, the GroundBridge closing behind them.

"Optimus! You okay?" the Elite Guardsman asked, kneeling beside him.

"Blaster and one other are being hunted, and Ravage is nearby," Optimus warned, forcing himself to his knees as audible blows were traded between Shadowstriker and Arcee. Bulkhead must have taken note of the latter threat, for he began firing and swearing as snow crunched rapidly across the landscape.

Smokescreen swiftly got Optimus' arm over his shoulders, helping him to a stand before relaying, "Ratchet, we got him. Set a 'Bridge close to where we are."

As they began running, Bulkhead covering them, Optimus - perhaps on account of his injuries, or as a result of a cross-wind - was able to hear a fist get caught halfway toward their destination before Shadowstriker snarled, "I don't have time for you."

He turned just in time to see the assassin twist Arcee's fist so hard a snap echoed across the landscape. Arcee screamed in pain, and Shadowstriker delivered a sharp strike to the side of her face. Stepping back as the Two-Wheeler fell, Shadowstriker ordered, "Ravage, Howlback, one piece."

From behind Bulkhead, a dark blur - what he had thought was Ravage, but was actually lupine in form - darted back and savagely tore into Arcee's heelstrut. No sooner had the wolf done so, Ravage reappeared and landed on Arcee's back and greedily bit down on her neck. The shocks that wracked her body caused another scream to come from her before it abruptly ended.

"Arcee!" he shouted, making to move toward her, only for his body to screech in protest and stall his movement. As Smokescreen pulled him away, Shadowstriker charged them only for Bulkhead to extend his mace and leap between them.

"Back off of my team!" the Wrecker bellowed, ramming his mace into the ground where Shadowstriker had been a second ago before jumping back. The impact shook the ground enough that the Seekers ceased their firing.

Although Optimus couldn't see Shadowstriker behind Bulkhead, the charging of a plasma powered weapon sounded. Not a second later, a spread of purple-white discharge erupted out through Bulkhead's helm.

"Bulkhead!" Smokescreen yelled, and Optimus found himself frozen in place as, in slow motion, the Wrecker's body tilted backwards from the blast, the remains of his face grotesquely distorted.

Shadowstriker grinned ferally, heatwaves pluming off from her sawed off plasma-shotgun. Her left servo pulled out three energy daggers from behind her and, in one fluid movement, she sent them flying towards them, the crackle from the weapons confirming their nature as stun daggers.

The Phase Shifter activated beside him, but moments before the daggers reached them a golden body ten feet taller than him slid in front of them. Smokescreen's hand shot out, grabbing her arm, and the projectiles sailed through their bodies.

"WHAT?!" Shadowstriker exploded.

The golden femme's optics, whose head was bigger than his fist, were wide with shock and nervous energy before the Phase Shifter deactivated. Shaking her helm, she tossed a limp Blaster over her shoulder, grabbed Optimus and Smokescreen in both arms, and took off, bellowing, "Come on, we gotta bail!"

Optimus heard a GroundBridge open, felt the excess energy of a null-ray meant for the femme numb his arm, and then they were through the portal. Smokescreen called over the comm, "Ratchet, shut it down when we're through!"

A few seconds later, the base's interior came into view. Their rescuer seemed to have forgotten her height, and promptly crashed her helm into the rock formation above the now inactive GroundBridge.

"OW!" she hollered, stumbling back and slipping on the glass.

She proceeded to crash solidly on the glass, her weight and theirs combined shattering the platform. Blaster grunted, conscious from at least the disturbance, and Optimus heard Ratchet quickly rush over as Smokescreen rolled over and pushed himself to a stand.

"What happened? Where - where is Arcee?" Ratchet asked, taking Optimus' arm as he rolled off of their rescuer and pulled him to his pedes.

His Spark clenched. Although he'd known from experience and through the Matrix that Shadowstriker's weapon had killed many, a part of him had hoped Bulkhead would survive the blast.

"Shadowstriker -" Optimus began, flinching as sparks flew from his wounds. Feeling energon leak out, he pressed a servo to his left shoulder and finished tightly, "She captured Arcee."

Ratchet stared at him, mouth agape in horror as the golden femme crouched with Blaster still secure in her arms. After moving forward a short distance, she straightened to her full height, and for a brief moment Smokescreen disappeared entirely behind her.

Turning to the medic, she asked worriedly, "Where's the medbay?"

Ratchet blinked for a second, momentarily thrown by her sheer size, before he tugged Optimus along and answered curtly, "This way. What are the extent of his injuries, and did anyone else get hit by Shadowstriker?"

"I'm fine," Smokescreen responded, jogging over and getting some of the equipment set up. "Optimus has dual shoulder wounds, but the left is deeper than the other."

"Blaster took a sniper bolt through his shoulder before one of the Seekers' null-rays got him in the back," the femme added, gingerly sitting down and propping the communications specialist against her body. He groaned, optics flickering open as Optimus took a seat opposite them and retracted his face mask.

"Smokescreen, hand me that welder," Ratchet ordered. Once the Guardsman had passed it to him, Ratchet began patching up Optimus' wounds.

"I think I can at least clean Blaster's shoulder," Smokescreen said, stepping around before asking in a lighter, slightly forced tone, "By the way, what's your name?"

"Treadbolt," the femme answered, smiling slightly. "Thanks for that save. Null-rays can't really penetrate my armor unless they're at full blast, but one of those daggers might have made me easy pickings."

"That explains a few things," Smokescreen replied, doing a double take at her back as his grin faltered. "Uh, we might have to buff out the scorch marks."

"Really?" Treadbolt questioned in confusion, glancing over her shoulder.

Blaster started awake, coughing. Treadbolt held him a little tighter, helping to straighten him as she comforted, "Easy, Blaster. Prime got us out of there. We're safe now."

"S-Sundor," he wheezed, trying to pull away, but Smokescreen held him in place as Ratchet moved to Optimus' right shoulder. "Where's he and - the cargo?"

Treadbolt blanked as Smokescreen silently began cleaning Blaster's wound. "I thought Sundor was still in your chest compartment," she replied nervously, catching Optimus' attention. "And you know we had to abandon the ship."

"I'd sent Sundor to - try and find ya," he answered, wincing quietly as Smokescreen started his work. "I only got a general idea before he went silent."

"Oh no," Treadbolt muttered, optics wide. "Ohhhh, nononono -"

"Blaster," Optimus intoned, gaining everyone's attention. "What did Sundor have stored in his memory banks?"

Blaster took a moment to answer. When he had his voice, his answer was like an explosion to their audials.

"Sundor has the location of over half our remaining strongholds and the names of their Autobot forces and resources," the communications specialist stated, his voice heavy with fatigue and resignation. "Stripes still has that same info, and he's still in my subspace compartment...but our odds ain't so good if Shadowstriker got our prisoner like I'm convinced she did."

Optimus felt like he was trapped in an unending nightmare from the past that had overtaken his present surroundings. Swallowing, forcing aside the old and new fears the day had brought about, he asked the only real question they had left as Ratchet, finished closing his wounds for the moment, turned his attention to Blaster:

"Who was your prisoner?"

Under the bright Saharan moon, Megatron stood on the flight deck of the currently sand-bound Nemesis as, a short distance from him, Shadowstriker's Darkstar loomed behind his officer, her entourage, and her prize.

Or rather, her prizes.

"Shadowstriker," Megatron greeted as she stepped forward, Blackout following her on the right while Thundercracker took the left, all three carrying over their shoulders bodies. In the middle but farther behind them and toting a larger body were the Seeker twins Redwing and Chemtrail. "Forgive the lack of propriety. We were not expecting your arrival until Soundwave received your transmission a short time ago."

Shadowstriker bowed her helm and answered coolly, "No need to apologize, Lord Megatron. I had hoped to surprise you and the officers, though I do regret that I need to ask Breakdown and perhaps two Miners to retrieve our ultimate prize from today's adventure."

"Granted. Breakdown, take them with you into the ship," he ordered, and with a nod, Breakdown waved two Miners over and began his trek towards the Darkstar, pausing to stare briefly at the twins' load before renewing his pace toward the ship.

Raising an eyebrow, Megatron noted, "I assume their cargo is of special note?"

"Yes, and the second to last of my gifts for you," she replied, dropping her body at his pedes. Wordlessly, Blackout and Thundercracker followed suit, and Megatron surveyed their kills.

In spite of the increasing gray, he could discern that the body Shadowstriker had dropped was covered in a pure white and pale blue frame. The one Blackout had disposed of was primarily cobalt, but he couldn't tell if the gray covered orange or yellow. Meanwhile, Thundercracker had dropped the easily recognized form of Huffer.

"In order, these were Pitstop, Tailgate, and, as I'm sure you know, Huffer," Shadowstriker stated, then crossed her arms. "There was little time to see if they would be open to interrogation, and moreover, we couldn't afford living prisoners save a few."

"Nevertheless, the snuffing of a front line distraction, a Scout, and the Autobots' most effective engineer is an impressive and important feat," he praised. "Though I assume, since Soundwave entrusted you with the care of both Ravage and Howlback, that there is more?"

"Indeed," she answered, a grin splitting her face. Gesturing Thundercracker forward, she started, "Although we lost Blaster and Treadbolt, Thundercracker managed to capture his Recordion Sundor. From intercepted transmissions, he holds knowledge of Autobot bases and the assets filling said bases."

As the blue and gray Seeker approached and pulled out a golden, avian-like Recordion about the same size as Laserbeak from behind his back, Shadowstriker stepped aside to reveal Ravage's lean, black frame and Howlback's ocean blue body dragging forward a tightly bound and comatose Two-Wheeler.

Megatron barked a laugh. "Arcee! Well done," Megatron stated. "I trust she is alive?"

"Yes," Shadowstriker answered, eyeing Ravage as he delivered a surge of electricity into her body to ensure her incapacity. "I spoke with Flamewar before we left our last base. She give me a datastick of thorough instructions in how to capture and detain Arcee, which she insists must be followed to the letter."

"I am certain of Flamewar's superior knowledge of her sister," he replied. He turned to Knock Out and ordered, "Prepare the prison, and neither overlook nor disregard a single detail in that datastick."

"At once, Lord Megatron," the doctor purred with a bow, a wicked smirk on his face as he took the datastick from Shadowstriker, readily hefted Arcee from the ground, and left with a detachment of Vehicons.

"Now then," Megatron said, eyeing the Seeker twins as, beside him, Soundwave stepped forward and warmly greeted his pleased Recordions. "What else have you brought me before the 'grand finale'?"

"A dead Wrecker from Prime's Earthbound team," the assassin replied with a smile, waving the crimson Seekers over. As one, the moved forward and stepped aside to reveal none other than Bulkhead on a cart, the remains of his helm twisted and distorted from Shadowstriker's famous shotgun.

"Excellent work, Shadowstriker," Megatron chuckled, then observed Breakdown and the Miners slowly approaching with a stasis cell. With a frown, he warned, "In spite of this successful feat, I must confess that you may yet make an enemy of Breakdown. He felt a particular claim to Bulkhead's ultimate fate."

Shadowstriker shrugged casually. "If he's that annoyed by it, I'll happily let him snuff Bumble," she replied. "I'd rather have a rematch with Prowl anyway."

"Yes," Megatron mused, stroking his chin. "You do owe him quite the repayment for costing us Prime at Tyger Pax, and the dent it caused in your reputation."

For once since her arrival, she scowled. "Indeed. But, let's not let that get in the way of the pinnacle of the moment," she decided, moving to flank his right as the Seekers, in accordance with where they had previously stood, moved to flank Soundwave and Shadowstriker respectively. As Breakdown and the Miners set down the cell, Megatron examined the being inside. Once he realized who it was, he threw his helm back and laughed.

"Decepticons, this is indeed a day of victory for us!" he announced. "Shadowstriker has returned with losses to the Autobots, as well as a prisoner capable of giving us an advantage over the Autobots. Furthermore, a lost operative of renown has been returned to us by her servo, while the Autobot vessel that had held her captive is being stripped for our benefit by Starscream as we speak.

"Now, Breakdown," Megatron said with a smile, turning to the former laborer, "release our esteemed officer's rescued ally from her cage."

Breakdown nodded, then bent down and entered the deactivation code. There was a hiss as the systems shut down, then the panels retracted. Limbs twitched, and an ebony black frame with specks of gold slowly stood. Arms stretched outward, getting the energon flowing there again, as eight extensions shot out, twisting in experimentation. She stood, blinked magenta optics at them all, then laughed.

"So that really wasn't a stasis dream I had," she observed airily. "I suppose I owe you all a great deal of thanks."

"Indeed, however Shadowstriker deserves the majority of the praise," Megatron responded, gesturing to the assassin. "Once you have recovered, I believe your history of breaking prisoners will have great use with regards to our guest. What do you say?"

"What do I say, Lord Megatron?" Airachnid purred, magenta optics glowing with pleasure at his promise. "I say: It's good to be back."

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