Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

I Hate My Name!

It was a beautiful day in Polyhex. The city-state was bustling with activity and the tower of Darkmount loomed over the metropolis like a silent guardian. Warpath was rolling along on his treads contemplating his life and how he had finally made it to this moment. He was finally moving out of his creator's house and into a dorm room at the Polyhex Military Academy.

As excited as he was about the move, he was also a little conflicted about his destiny. He knew he was a war-make, and all war-makes joined military service. He also knew if he ever wanted to be more than a grunt he had to go to the academy. It still didn't seem fair though. Why couldn't he be something else? Why couldn't he at least have a choice? Why did he have to be a war-make?

He had these doubts ever since primary school, but learned quickly not to voice them out loud. His teachers, rather than help him sort things out, merely punished him for going against the natural order. Other students just laughed at him. That wasn't news. He had Turrets Syndrome, a Cybertronian speech impediment that only affected war-makes, and the other sparklings would laugh at him when he randomly shouted words like BLAM or POWEE when he was trying to make a point.

Warpath didn't really have any friends back home in Helex. He tried to make friends, but other war-makes thought he was too soft, too short, or too noisy. He tried to make friends with other frame types, but that didn't work out either. Car-formers and other civilian frame types were afraid of tanks like him, and thought all military designed Cybertronians were just one misstep away from going postal on everyone.

It didn't help that his name was Warpath. His creator had given him that name because he wanted his son to be strong and fearsome, but that wasn't who he was at all! Warpath was a nice guy, and he loved to have fun and be accepted. He didn't want other mechs to be afraid of him. It never failed though. Warpath distinctly remembered the last time he tried to talk to a car-former…

Warpath had gone shopping to get some additives for his energon. He loved the taste of cobalt or magnesium in his energon, and had also bought a new flavor called Kaon acid water. He was checking out with his purchases and the line was so long. He got bored, so he decided to start talking to the mech behind him; a hover car.

"This line is so BLAM long!" Warpath said after he turned around, causing the hover car to flinch a little, "You'd think they'd open another POW register! So, you live around here?"

The hover car's optics widened a little, but reluctantly he nodded his head yes.

"Me, too. I just moved here last orn, and have been staying at a rental parking facility. I get to move into a KAZOW dorm room at the military academy tomorrow!" Warpath said excitedly, "So, what's your name, pal?"

"Um...Detector," The other mech replied nervously, "And, um, what's your name?"

"My name is ZOWEE Warpath!" Warpath replied as his mouth indicator glowed a happy blue.

The other mech nodded, smiled wider than what should've been possible, and slowly backed away from Warpath and the checkout lane. A minute later Warpath saw the mech run out of the store without his groceries.

He sighed at the recent memory. Such was his life. Mechs either made fun of his shortcomings or ran away in fear of his cannon or his stupid name. He hated the name Warpath! That wasn't who he was at all! He didn't want to go to the academy! He wanted to do something else! Still, as long as the council was in charge, and as long as they enforced the caste system, he was forced to be a military machine. He wanted more, but it looked like it would never happen.

Warpath took out a few little things from his subspace and placed them around his bunk in the barracks. There were 9 other students in this room, and Warpath was excited to get to meet them. He was starting to feel a little better about the whole ordeal. If he had to grow up to protect Cybertron, then he might as well enjoy his life while he was still young.

He hoped his new roomies were party animals. He couldn't wait for the full college experience. He imagined sneaking high grade energon past the guards, turning up the music really loud, and dancing until the planet rotated to reveal the nearest sun. It was gonna be a blast!

He unpacked a stress reliever toy and placed it next to his berth. His creator told him when he felt frustrated all he had to do was squeeze it and he would feel better. The thing worked sometimes, but other times he just felt silly for squeezing the life out of a lifeless toy. He also unpacked a photo his him and his creator at the Crystal Geyser in Iacon. It had been a walking tour, and one of the other tourists almost fell in. Their face looked so funny as they cursed out the tour guide, and Warpath and his creator had eaten energon goodies until they were both sick.

He sighed fondly at the memory and put the photo on a small foldable table next to his berth. He was happy he got assigned a bottom bunk. It would be harder to find places for his personal effects if he recharged on a top bunk.

He was looking for a place to hang his primary school diploma when the door opened with a silent swoosh and a broad red tank-former lumbered in and looked at him.

"You must be one of the new recruits," The red mech said appraisingly.

"Yes sir, my name is ZAM Warpath!" Warpath said cheerfully.

"Warpath huh? I'm Luster, and I'm a senior cadet here at the academy," Luster informed him, "If you wanna stay on my good side, stay out of my way. Welcome to the academy, slagger."

Warpath was shocked into silence for a moment as Luster went to his berth on the other side of the room. This guy was so brusque, and rather intimidating despite his size being comparable to Warpath. He watched the red tank for a moment before he finally worked up the courage to speak again.

"So, um...Luster...It must be POW exciting to know someday we'll be the ZOWEE first defense for Cybertron!" Warpath said optimistically.

"What are you, a newspark?" Was Luster's rude reply, "We're military vehicles! Our job, for the rest of our lives, is basically going to be to drive around in circles until our energy runs low and then refuel when it actually does! There hasn't been a war here in millions of vorns! We're useless, and the council knows it! Why do you think our pay is so lousy? Trust me rookie, it's only gonna get worse before it gets better."

Warpath deflated and sighed in disappointment. He never did like the idea of being a military weapon, but the idea of being useless was even worse. Why even bother with formal training? He might as well just be a grunt for all the good this was doing him! He felt so defeated.

"Hey Warpath?" Luster called out to him, knocking him out of his own thoughts, "You want some free advice? Stay away from the seekers."

"The what?" Warpath asked, as he had never seen that frame type in Helex.

"Seekers," Luster repeated, "They're military jets. Watch out for them. They're the big mechs on campus and they know it. They have nothing but contempt for anything that can't fly, and that includes us."

"Wowee! They can fly?" Warpath knew some mechs could fly, but had never actually met anyone like that before, "That's so BLAM awesome!"

"Yeah, well don't tell them that," Luster warned him, "I'm telling you, the seekers are bad news. They're in the same scrappy situation as us, but the difference is they have this weird sort of superiority complex. They think they're better than us, but they're not. Just stay away from them, focus on winning at all costs, and you'll survive just fine."

With those words Luster grabbed a data pad from his berth and stormed out the door. Warpath could already tell that Luster was the type of mech that was driven and always had to be doing something. It was strange to him that he could tell that after only having just met the guy. Still, Luster talked to him, and even if he was rude that was still better than Warpath was used to getting. He hoped he could be friends with Luster and the rest of his roommates.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Unlikely Alliance

Rain. It just had to be rain. Of all the times to host war games, why did it have to be in the middle of acid rain? Warpath rolled along from one canopy to the next trying to keep the burning droplets off his rough burgundy finish. Most of his team had already been captured by the enemy, including his unit's commander, Luster. The seekers were closing in fast, and Warpath had to work with his team to capture the enemy flag before the grounders lost the match.

Warpath wasn't very useful on their fake battlefield for two reasons. One, he was too worried about the acid rain to focus on the flag. Two, his team hated him and didn't clue him in on their plans. They were afraid his lack of indoor voice would give away their position, so most of his team stayed away from him during the long training exercise. This combination put the minibot at a great disadvantage. 

Warpath saw a tunnel that led to the power station and decided to crawl into it. This thing would serve him well, both to protect him from the rain and to sneak up on the enemy.

Warpath had been at the academy for 5 orns, and so far he had learned a few things. He learned that no matter where he went people were still going to make fun of his Turrets Syndrome. He also learned that his roommates were all workaholics that had no sense of adventure, and he learned that Luster was right about the seekers. So far he hadn't had any major confrontations with the seekers, but it was clear that they hated all ground vehicles and thought minibots like himself were especially worthy of their contempt.

He crawled through the tunnel and felt a sense of smug satisfaction. No way would a seeker dare crawl through the grease and the dregs the way he did, and in that moment he was proud of being able to do something those high and mighty fliers couldn't. Soon he would get the flag!

He saw the end of the tunnel and dared not get too close. His cannon would stand out like a neon sign, and he needed the element of surprise. He used his scanners to search for enemies. He didn't sense anything, so he poked his body out and looked for enemies the old fashioned way. His optics combed the area, but he didn't see anything.

The rain had died down by now. It almost felt as if the weather was responding to his wishes. He felt elated as he ran for the flag and was about to claim victory for his team! Then maybe they wouldn't see him as a burden. Maybe poor old Warpath could finally get some respect.

As he was almost upon the flag, however, a reedy yet bland voice said "I wouldn't step there if I were you."

Warpath quickly spun around to see who was talking to him, and a lavender seeker with white and red wings was sitting on the ground near the flag reading a data pad and looking completely unconcerned that Warpath was there.

"It's booby trapped," The seeker elaborated, "Only seekers can get to the flag without activating the trap. If you walk on the ground near the flag you'll be covered in ugly grey paint."

"Yeah? Well why would you BLOWEE tell me about it, then?" Warpath asked skeptically.

The purple seeker lifted up his pede to show it was covered in splotches of grey paint and he casually said "Your team already shot me. It seems stupid to aid my team when they were more than willing to let me take the fall for them."

"Yeah...I guess that makes sense," Warpath shrugged, "Still, how am I going to get the SLAM flag?"

"Just fly over it," The seeker replied as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"I can't!" Warpath pointed out irritably, "I don't fly!"

"Oh, okay."

The seeker then flew a few feet off the ground and plucked the seeker flag off the pole. With a bored expression the seeker handed Warpath the flag and went back to his data pad.

"Whoa...Why did you ZOW help me get the flag?" Warpath asked softly (well, as softly as his voice would allow).

"Because I hate the war games," The seeker shrugged, "By the way, why do you say odd interjections when you talk?"

Warpath's optics darkened in offense, but he still answered by saying "Because I have Turrets Syndrome. I can't help the way I BLAM talk. I do it more often when I'm SLAG nervous."

"Oh...cool," The seeker smiled placidly as he looked up at Warpath from where he was sitting on the ground, "So, what's your name, ground pounder?"

"Warpath," Warpath replied, still a little miffed at the seeker but growing more comfortable with speaking to him.

"Cool. My name's Air Warrior. I've been here for 3 vorns, but you still probably haven't seen me. Nobody really notices me. It's both a gift and a curse. So, you won the war games. Wanna ditch these losers and grab some energon in the mess hall?"

"Um...sure," Warpath said hesitantly.

Warpath had never been invited to eat with someone besides his creator before. He wasn't sure how to respond, but inside he was overjoyed that someone wanted to hang out with him. For all he knew this seeker could wind up being his friend! Then again, he thought the same about Luster, and Luster didn't like him at all. Still, this was a good start, and Warpath was optimistic that something good was going to come from this.

Over the next few deca-orns Warpath and Air Warrior became fast friends. They were both considered odd by their frame types, and their friendship was considered lame and desperate by others around them, but they didn't care as long as they had each other to talk to at the end of the day.

As far as their personalities went, they seemed to be polar opposites. Warpath was loud and gregarious whereas Air Warrior was quiet and preferred to lose himself in cheap fiction novels and tech manuals. Warpath liked to get dirty when training, and Air Warrior was fastidious and clean to the point of being obsessed with his frame always being properly lubed and polished.

Still, despite their differences they had some important things in common. They both hated their names, and they both questioned the concept of frame type destiny. They both went to the academy only to make their creators happy, and neither one ever had a long-term friendship before.

Needless to say, they both had some social interaction problems. Warpath didn't understand personal space and would push his face really close to Air Warrior's when he talked. Air Warrior, in turn, had trouble figuring out when a topic of conversation might be off-limits. That led to more than one embarrassing moment; especially when Air Warrior once announced to the entire camp that he had a rust infection and needed cream for his skid plate.

Despite the complications however, the two mechs were always happy to be in each other's company. They both just hoped after the academy they would both be assigned to the same city to work.

"Do tank-formers have trines?" Air Warrior one day randomly asked.

"Um, no. Why?" Warpath asked in return.

"Because seekers are supposed to have Trines by the time they're my age, but no one wants to trine with me," Air Warrior revealed as he scanned the latest issue of a magazine on needlepoint, "I don't know. I guess I've just been thinking too much is all. I just wonder...What if I never find a trine? I don't want to die alone."

"Why not?" Warpath asked, "It beats dying while your BLAM loved ones watch and wait in concern as you go."

"Hm...I don't know…" Air Warrior sighed noncommittally, "I just thought I'd be further along in my life by now."

"Yeah, I thought I'd have a POW job by now," Warpath empathized, "I also thought they'd find a FRAG cure for Turrets Syndrome, too."

Air Warrior could tell that Warpath was smiling despite the fact that his porous mask hid his face. Air Warrior let out a small laugh in return.

"Yeah...I guess life can wait," Air Warrior conceded as he turned back to his data pad.

Warpath didn't always understand his friend. Air Warrior's mind seemed to go a mechano-mile an astro second, and half the time Warpath couldn't keep up. Still, his time at the military academy was a lot easier with Air Warrior as his best friend. What he didn't know was that the seeds of dissent were being planted in the fertile soil of Kaon, and soon Cybertron would be torn asunder...

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

The Pits

Over the next vorn Warpath and Air Warrior noticed that tensions between war-makes and civilians were escalating. There was a mighty gladiator in Kaon named Megatron (formerly Megatronus) that was stirring up feelings of protest in the lower class mechs of Cybertron. War-makes and laborers listened hungrily as he spoke of glory and peace for them and an end to the reign of the oppressive council.

Others had spoken these things before, but Megatron came at a time in Cybertronian history when mechs were finally willing to listen. Energon reserves were running low, and the number of energy producing planets was diminishing. The lower castes were given lower and lower rations and many were starving. To make matters worse, many employers were switching from sentient workers to drones; leaving thousands to starve without work and without a way to get the energon they needed to survive.

The Polyhex Military Academy was no exception. Energon was hard to come by, and many students were dropping out or dropping dead. Warpath and Air Warrior were still at the academy, but only because they had nowhere else to go. They knew if they stayed much longer they would die too, but they had no options.

Warpath had wanted to return home to his creator, and had even invited Air Warrior to stay with him, but no matter how many times he comm'ed his creator there was no answer. He tried calling the neighbors, and they said he had disappeared 4 orns ago. The older tank-former had spoken out against Sentinel Prime and the council in Helex, and many suspected that was why he was now missing.

Things weren't any better for the war-makes in Polyhex either. Civilians had always been wary of Warpath, and on some level he understood why. His cannon was on the front of his chassis, so whoever or whatever he was facing was in his line of fire. He could see why staring down his gun barrel would be frightening. He was just grateful Air Warrior didn't mind. Still, things were getting worse now. Last time he was in alt mode an entire crowded street pointed at him and ran away! That never happened before, even on his worse orns. That incident had been a little disheartening.

Warpath and Air Warrior were sitting outside the barracks where Warpath still shared a room with 4 of his roomies. There had been 9, but 4 left and Treadfoot had succumbed to a virus that his system was too depleted to fight off.

The two friends looked out at the dismal grey sky and the nearly empty obstacle courses and bunkers lining the barren landscape that was once their bustling academy.

Air Warrior's beautiful lavender paint had lost most of its shine when he stopped buying wax and polish for it. Warpath never would've thought Air Warrior would give up his wax, but times were desperate and Air Warrior couldn't afford to be vain anymore. He also had to sell several of his bound books that he’d collected over the vorns from other worlds. Warpath had already sold off his ammo. He didn't really have anything else of value to sell or trade, so Air Warrior shared his rations with his friend.

The dreary silence was broken when Warpath exclaimed "Well, this BLAM stinks!"

"No kidding," Air Warrior replied in a snarky tone of voice, but Warpath ignored it, "We should've left long ago. If we're going to be empties we might as well be empties on a crowded street as opposed to this regimented prison."

Warpath didn't have an answer for that, so he just worked his stress reliever toy and tried to think of something pleasant to say. For once he was having trouble coming up with something positive to point out. He supposed he was lucky this treasured toy of his was worthless, otherwise it would have been sold for fuel long ago.

Their melancholy moping was interrupted when Luster left the barracks and slammed the door. He was holding a box and walking toward where the sergeant's office was located. Warpath knew the look on Luster's face. He'd seen that look a lot lately.

"So Luster...Are you BANG leaving?" Warpath asked sullenly.

"Yeah," Luster replied with a shrug, "There's nothing here for me now. The council has failed us, and they are perfectly willing to let us die. I'm not gonna stand around here and wait for that to happen! I'm joining the Decepticons, and if you two had any processors in your heads you'd do the same."

"The Decepticons would never take us," Air Warrior replied pessimistically, "We're losers. They want experienced warriors, not a bunch of younglings like us."

"You'd be surprised," Luster said with a smirk, "War-makes get special consideration from Megatron, and apparently his second in command is a seeker."

"Second in command?" Warpath asked skeptically, "That makes it sound like a ZAM real army!"

"It is a real army, bolt brain!" Luster snapped, "The Decepticons are as real as it gets! Megatron is talking about more than just energon! He's talking about Cybertron being the dominant force in the universe! He's talking about taking our rightful place in history as glorious conquerors! Look, I don't like you guys, but there's safety in numbers, so if you come with me we can build each other up. Then Megatron's forces will have to accept us!"

"Well, that does sound like a good plan…" Air Warrior replied hesitantly, "What do you think, Warpath? Should we join the Decepticons? Megatron survived the pits of Kaon. Surely he knows how to plan battle strategies and teach mechs to fight. Right?"

Warpath was conflicted. He had always wanted to escape the life of a military tank, and overthrowing the council sounded like a good way to change the law for future generations. Then again, if he joined the Decepticons he would become a member of their army. Perhaps forever. For the rest of his life he would be a soldier, and it was a fate he wanted so badly to avoid.

His sensor read-outs picked that moment to pop up again in his field of vision, and they indicated he was down to 23% energon. Philosophy would have to wait. His tanks were empty, and at the moment that was the most pressing matter.

"We'll starve here," Warpath said to Air Warrior, "We might get energon there. Let's POWEE go with Luster. We'll join the Decepticons."

The Decepticon recruiter had been surprisingly blasé in his job. He took one look at them, saw they were war-makes, and ushered them into a room to await an officer to induct them into the Decepticon ranks. After that it had been paperwork, oaths of loyalty, and a purple sigil slapped onto their chassis. It felt incredibly rushed, and Warpath felt like his helm was spinning from the suddenness of the transition.

The atmosphere was chilling as mechs and femmes stared down at them with bright red optics and scowls of distrust. Warpath had never seen so many red optics in his life! He knew that soon he Air Warrior and Luster would also have those optics, but it didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel worse.

Since the three of them came in together they were assigned the same quarters. That wasn't a problem for Warpath though. He was used to rooming with Luster and knew to just give the red tank his space and leave him alone. It would be cool to room with Air Warrior though. He knew enough about the seeker's habits that he figured it shouldn't be a problem.

Their quarters was dark and small. The walls were purple, and the berths looked like they had never been cleaned before. Air Warrior immediately pulled a scrub brush out of subspace and began to work on the berth nearest to the door.

"Is he always like this?" Luster asked Warpath.

"Pretty much," Warpath replied with a nod.

Life was starting to get strange. When Warpath woke up that morning he had been a starving cadet in a failing military academy. Now he was a college dropout and a Decepticon soldier. Hopefully his new position came with energon.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

How To Take A Life

Life in the Decepticon army was surprisingly similar to life at the academy. The main difference was that somehow the soldiers were even bigger jerks than the academy students were, at least to Warpath. He was a minibot, which was considered one of the lowest forms of life to the Decepticons, so he often got the most degrading jobs on the base. His favorite was janitorial duty because despite the thankless work at least he felt like he accomplished something. He also used his janitorial duties to get away from the ones that mocked him.

When he returned to his quarters after a long day of training or work detail, he would often be greeted by the sight of Air Warrior and Luster arguing. The two 'Cons hated each other, and Warpath often found himself caught in the middle. Naturally, he would pick Air Warrior's side whenever he reasonably could.

One night Warpath came in to find that Air Warrior was alone, and was secretly grateful that for once he could just talk with his friend without having to deal with Luster's nonsense.

"I'm going to try to get out of training tomorrow," Air Warrior announced out of the blue when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Really? Why?" Warpath asked.

"Because I have a medical condition. CRS," Air Warrior said casually.

"What the ZOOM is CRS?" Warpath asked.

"Chronic Roommate Syndrome," Air Warrior deadpanned, "Seriously, Luster is going to drive me crazy! I am sick of that oversized blowhard!"

"Oversized?" Warpath asked skeptically, "But you're taller than him!"

"True, but he's very wide," Air Warrior pointed out, "It's hard for me to get through the door when he's around. Sometimes I think he blocks it on purpose just to annoy me."

"Listen, Air Warrior, I hate to ask…" Warpath said hesitantly, "But my cannon is really dusty from where I ZANGO crawled under the floor to remove a turbo rat. Could you BLOOEY dust my cannon for me? I can't reach."

"Sure," Air Warrior shrugged off Warpath's discomfort easily.

Air Warrior then grabbed a large cannon brush and used it like a cotton swab to clean out the cannon on Warpath's chest. Warpath used to get his cannon cleaned by his creator, but he hadn't bothered cleaning it since transferring to Polyhex to go to the academy. He normally didn't care about dirt and grime, but lately with all the extra work he did it was finally starting to bother him. It felt so good when Air Warrior cleaned his cannon barrel, and he was just grateful there was one mech he could trust enough to get close to the most important part of him. If he lost his cannon, then he lost the thing that made him useful.

Air Warrior finished cleaning the barrel, and asked if there was anything else Warpath couldn't reach. Warpath said no, and Air Warrior shrugged again and went back to reading a novel about a pirate adventure. One thing Warpath liked about Air Warrior was that very few things bothered him. He dismissed most of life's concerns and kept his helm down. Nobody noticed Air Warrior, and that didn't seem to bother the seeker at all. Warpath couldn't stand the idea of being alone too long, but that didn't seem to bother the purple seeker.

Just as things were finally starting to get quiet, Luster burst through the door with a look of sheer adrenaline in his newly red optics. Air Warrior groaned and wondered what stupid argument they'd get into this time.

"Guys! We gotta move!" Luster said hurriedly, "Commander Copper Mask says we're going to the front to fight the Autobots!"

"Who are the Autobots?" Warpath asked ignorantly.

"Are you kidding me?" Luster scoffed in contempt, "The Autobots are the ones that fight for the council! They fight for Sentinel Prime! Come on! Now is our chance to take back Cybertron! All hail Megatron!"

Air Warrior sighed and put his data pad in subspace. He slowly walked to the door where Luster looked eager to get to the battle and rip into some Autobots. Warpath was surprised he was called, but he followed anyway. Normally they didn't let him do anything useful because he was a minibot, so he was kind of relieved that he was seen as a part of the team for once.

Warpath woke up in the medbay. His memory was fuzzy, but he recalled going into battle with his unit and blowing up buildings. That had actually been kind of fun. He liked tearing down the oppressive court houses and private mansions of the council members. It really felt like he was protesting a corrupt regime. He felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself.

He turned his head to see Injector working on a patient nearby. Warpath almost wished he hadn't come out of stasis lock for this. Injector was a good medic, but he was too into his job and could come across as sadistic at times. Warpath looked at his chest just to ensure his cannon was still there, and sure enough it was. He sighed in relief and fell blissfully back into recharge.

He didn't wake up the final time until 2 cycles later, and after he awoke he was discharged from the medbay and ordered to return to his quarters. What happened on the front lines was still hazy, but he figured it couldn't be too bad if he survived.

When he made it as far as the outside of his room he could hear Luster yelling, and knew it was going to be another one of those days. He entered their shared quarters to find Air Warrior sitting on the bed with a dim expression on his Crimson optics. Luster turned to see Warpath come in, and rushed right over to the minibot with an exasperated look on his face.

"Warpath! Tell that slagging seeker to get up already!" Luster demanded, "He hasn't shown up for training in 3 cycles, and I'm tired of making up excuses for him! Tell him to get up now!"

Air Warrior didn't look at or acknowledge Warpath or Luster. He just sat there looking straight ahead as if his roommates didn't exist. It was starting to freak Warpath out a little.

"Don't worry, Luster. I'll ZANG talk to him," Warpath promised.

"Good. I knew bringing that seeker along was trouble," Luster grumbled as he walked past Warpath and to the door, "They think they're better than us."

Warpath barely caught that last sentence, but it still made him angry that Luster was such a coward that he would only mutter his thoughts out of earshot of the intended target. More than that though, he hated it when Luster blasphemed his friend. Air Warrior wasn't perfect, but no one is, and Warpath treasured the friendship he had with the lavender jet-former.

"Air Warrior..." Warpath called out cautiously, hoping to get Air Warrior's attention without startling him, "...Come on, buddy. Just BLAM talk to me. We can go to the ZOOM mess hall and grab some energon. Isn't this great? We can get energon anytime we BANG want!"

"Mm-hm," Air Warrior grunted.

Warpath didn't know why Air Warrior was acting so strangely, but he was happy to get a reaction out of him at least.

"Do you want me to POW bring you some energon to the room?" Warpath asked.

Air Warrior slowly raised his helm up then. His optics locked onto Warpath's, and the tank-former saw a haunted look that hadn't been there before. What he said next was both shocking yet expected.

"I killed a mech on the battlefield 3 cycles ago."

Warpath sat down on Air Warrior's berth next to the seeker. He was careful to avoid bumping into his friend's sensitive wings, but Air Warrior didn't even notice the motion enough to try to move. Warpath waited patiently and didn't say a word. He knew Air Warrior had a lot to get off his chest plate, and Warpath didn't want to dominate the conversation.

"Warpath...Do you remember the battle? You haven't mentioned anything about it," Air Warrior asked.

"I only remember that we ZAP were there. I don't remember what BLAM happened to us," Warpath replied.

"Oh," Air Warrior breathed the word and stiffened a little as he told the story, "During the demolition, the Autobot enforcers came. They were huge, and they had really big cannons and disruptor weapons. They were all grounders, but they had anti-aircraft turrets mounted on mobile docking stations. The other seekers and I evaded their shots easily enough. Honestly if they weren't so scary and fanatical they would be pathetic. Anyway, I got in a few minor shots. External wounds at best. I was doing fine for a while, but then I looked down at the fighters on the ground, and I saw one of the Autobots shoot you. The rifle must've been a new model, because I didn't recognize it and couldn't believe how much damage it did to you with only one hit."

"Really?" Warpath interrupted, "I don't remember getting BOOM shot!"

"Well, you did," Air Warrior replied bluntly, "I, uh, I actually thought he had killed you. I flew down to confront him about what he had done to you. The Autobot had already moved on and was attacking that new guy Astrotrain. He would've got him too, that is, if I hadn't been there. I shot him in the back, and I walked over to him slowly. I was going to check to see if he was dead. The Autobot turned back to me, and that look in his optics..."

Air Warrior, who had been calm up to this point, finally broke down and started sobbing uncontrollably! Warpath didn't know what to do. He had never seen his friend like that before. Not knowing what else to do, he took Air Warrior's servo and held it while the seeker cried.

"He...He looked right at me!" Air Warrior wailed, "He looked terrified! I didn't recognize his model...He must've been upgraded recently. He was just a youngling, and I killed him. He turned to me after I shot him in the back, looked at me with pure terror, and I actually shot him again at point-blank range! I killed a mech, Warpath! I took a life! What have I become?"

"You did what you had to do," Warpath told him, "Anyone would've CLANG done the same thing."

For a few minutes more no one said a word. Warpath just sat there and hoped his presence would be enough to keep his traumatized friend grounded (metaphorically).

"You know the worst part?" Air Warrior asked rhetorically, "I was the only one that noticed him. I cried for him, but no one else did. I just hope the Autobots found his body. They might be monsters, but surely even they care about their dead, right?"

Warpath shrugged. He literally knew nothing about the Autobots other than the color of their symbol. Air Warrior had never killed before, and the idea of killing on a regular basis made him depressed to the point of feeling ill. Warpath understood these feelings. He often had them, too. He also knew, however, that they were Decepticons. They had a duty to save Cybertron from itself. The weak would not be tolerated, and he couldn't allow Air Warrior to be seen as weak. He would have to be extra careful to watch the seeker's back from now on.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

These Games We Play

The Decepticon takeover of Polyhex went much smoother than Warpath and Air Warrior thought it would. After less than 2 orns of siege the governor of the city-state surrendered to Megatron and declared Polyhex severed from the council. For the first time in recorded history, the Decepticons had official territory. They were no longer a mere terrorist group. Now they were a nation.

The troops that seized the town made their temporary HQ in a commandeered hotel that was luxurious yet not as big as Commander Copper Mask had hoped. The troops had a little more space to themselves, and the courtyard served as excellent training facilities, but they still had to bunk two to a room. When the time came for Warpath and the others to vote out a roommate, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Luster would have to go.

It was nighttime in Polyhex at the moment. Air Warrior sat on his berth buffing his pede thrusters, and Warpath fiddled with the computer terminal in an effort to find a number for officials in Helex. Despite everything that was going on in his own life, Warpath was still trying to find someone who knew what happened to his creator.

Warpath typed in his creator's name to see if anything came up. Nothing. Of course it couldn't be that easy...

He checked morgue records. Nothing. He hacked into prison records. He still found nothing. He even checked the Helexian news reels in an effort to find anything useful. Nothing came up. His creator was just...gone.

He wrote down a few comm signals just in case anything panned out, but he would have to wait until the next morning to call anyone. Warpath huffed out the air in his intakes. He didn't want to give up hope, but his search was proving fruitless, and he wasn't sure what he would do if he never got answers. Even if he was just looking for a body or even spare parts, at least then he would know.

Air Warrior turned off the noisy buffer and looked over at where Warpath and slumped over in his chair.

"If you lean over any further you'll fall in the floor," Air Warrior said glibly, "Seriously, you look like slag. Is there anything I can do that'll make you feel better?"

"Well...I hear there's a victory party at Honk's Bar," Warpath mentioned hesitantly, "I thought about going down there for some high grade, but I didn't want to BANG go by myself. Wanna ZOOM go with me?"

Air Warrior shrugged and subspaced his buffer. He didn't really like loud parties, but he knew Warpath did and was willing to adapt for his friend.

"Sure Warpath, let's go."

The strobe lights had burned out a few hours ago, and the room was painted with the only color light that remained; optic blue. Luster was overcharged and fighting a larger tank, the seekers from Rho Squadron were singing bad karaoke, and the room was loud and boisterous. Warpath and Air Warrior sat at a table near the bar and drank some blue colored high grade flown in from the planet Putrol. Warpath usually preferred purple energon, but the blue stuff had quite a kick to it.

"Hey Air Warrior!" Warpath grabbed his friend's wing and pulled him close, "Dare me to POW dance in my alt mode!"

Air Warrior just gave his tipsy friend a withering glare that said 'if you ever touch my wing again you will suffer'. Warpath noticed the look and let go. He wasn't completely wasted yet, but Warpath was certainly feeling more daring after a couple cubes of that high grade.

Air Warrior turned his helm away, and that was when he noticed a lovely car-former femme smiling and looking their way. Air Warrior nudged Warpath and subtly pointed to where the femme was. Subtle being a loose turn, since she could obviously see him pointing despite his servo being on the table.

"Wow, she really looks WHOOSH into us!" Warpath said incredulously, "You gonna go talk to her?"

"Of course not," Air Warrior scoffed, "She's a car-former. They don't even have trines. Besides, I think she's checking you out."

"You don't think she's a BLAM pleasure bot, do you?" Warpath asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Air Warrior replied honestly, "You could ask her."

"No way!" Warpath shrieked, "That's not the kind of thing you WHAM ask someone! Femmes are very sensitive about that sort of thing. Well, most of them are."

"Just talk to her, lead-head!" Air Warrior pushed Warpath playfully to get him to stand up, "The worst she can do is say no."

"Yeah, I guess..." Warpath reluctantly agreed.

Warpath knew rejection better than most. He had been rejected by almost every potential friend, neighbor, and femme he had ever come across. Still, he didn't like rejection. Of course, if he didn't put himself out there then he would never gain anything. He steeled himself and walked over to the femme's table in the corner of the room.

"Um, uh...hi," Warpath said nervously, "So, um, BANG! I mean, um, do you ZAM come here KAPOW often?"

Warpath always sounded worse when he was nervous, and he was sure his spastic interjections would drive the femme away. To his surprise, however, she continued to smile and even answered him!

"Actually, this is my first time in Polyhex," She replied as she patted the chair next to hers; a silent invitation to join her, "My name is Fallout. What's yours, soldier boy?"

"My name is BLAM Warpath!" Warpath answered louder than he intended, and almost ducked his helm in embarrassment.

"Is BLAM Warpath all one word?" The femme asked seriously.

"Oh, um, no, I mean, uh...SLAG!" Warpath stammered, "I mean to say, my name isn't BLAM Warpath. It's just Warpath. I'm sorry...I can't BOOM help it."

"It's quite alright," Fallout smiled, "I saw the way you blasted those towers downtown. You're pretty fearsome on the battlefield, Warpath. Why don't I buy you a drink?"

"Oh, no! I mean, um, I should BAM buy you a drink!" Warpath had trouble forming his words, but he would've smiled too if he had a mouth. This was the best thing to happen to him in a long time.

Warpath motioned a drone over and got Fallout the same high grade he was having. He did most of the talking, but Fallout seemed content to listen to him. She asked about his unit, his colleagues, and his weapons of choice. After a while he could tell she really got into the military talk and wanted to hear all about the Decepticons. It made him feel so cool to have a femme hanging on his every word.

After a few hours Warpath realized the party had died down and most of the other mechs and femmes were gone; including Air Warrior. He was feeling pretty charged and just wanted to sit there and let the energon work its way through his system before he got up. Fallout was polishing her digits and helping Warpath figure out how to split the check. He was in no condition to work with numbers.

"So Warpath...Do you have anywhere else you need to be?" Fallout asked him, "It's been a wonderful evening, and there's no reason why it should end so soon."

"Yeah...Too b-bad we can't POP freeze time..." Warpath slurred as he stood up on his wobbly treads.

"No Warpath, I'm saying you should come with me to my hotel room. We're staying in the same hotel if I'm not mistaken," Fallout said seductively, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To spend some alone time with me?"

"Well..." Warpath was having trouble sorting his fuzzy processor out, but one thing still came to mind despite his drunkenness, "I've never FRAG been with a femme before. I'm not sure I want my BANGO first time interfacing to be with someone I SHAZAM just met."

"So you're saying you don't like me?" Fallout asked with a pouty look on her faceplate.

"No, no! It's not that!" Warpath exclaimed frantically, "Oh, come on Fallout! Don't be BOOM upset! Listen...I'm not sure yet, but we can POW continue this conversation in your WHAM room."

"Great," Fallout said with a sly smile, "Follow me, mighty conqueror."

Warpath was stumbling a little less than before. His self-repair systems were starting to kick in, but he still felt disoriented and unsure of what he just agreed to. Fallout was so pretty, and she was even prettier now that he saw two of her swirling around in the lobby...

When they got up to Fallout's room, Warpath noticed that it looked just like his own room. There was the same red walls, the same copper berth, and the same terminal in the corner near the...Okay, so her room didn't have a window and his did. That was just one little difference.

"So Warpath, are you ready for a surprise?" Fallout asked mischievously.

Warpath's processor cleared enough for him to think that maybe this was a bad idea. He knew she was trying to sound sultry, but something in the gleam of her blue optics said she was trouble. In fact, this was the first time Warpath had been able to see her in clear lighting, and Fallout didn't look like he thought. She was pastel green and white with blue optics. She was taller than him, and had a build that was the perfect combination of sturdy yet delicate. She even had a small turret built into the top of her helm. She was gorgeous, and yet there was something very wrong here...

"Fallout...I think I should go," Warpath said firmly, "No offense. You're a very BLOOEY beautiful femme, but this don’t feel right. I'm not ZAM ready for this!"

Warpath staggered to the door, but he found it wasn't opening for him. He turned around, and saw that Fallout had pulled a handheld grenade launcher from her subspace! She was aiming right for him, and now he understood everything...

"So...This was a trap," Warpath stated rather than asked.

"You got it, Decepticon," Fallout drawled, "I've already taken out 3 of your fellow flunkies, and now it's your turn. There won't be enough of you left to pick up off the ground. Any last words, Deceptiscum?"

Warpath didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Fallout had spent so much time talking that she forgot about Warpath's chest cannon, and he fired on her; shooting the gun right out of her hand!

She gasped in shock, and then backed away in fear. Warpath stepped closer to her, and she backed up against the wall. For a few moments, neither one said anything. It was clear that Warpath had the upper hand now.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Fallout snapped, "Just do it! Just kill me!"

"Why did you do this, Fallout?" Warpath found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"Because you and your kind are monsters!" Fallout shouted venomously, "You're just a bunch of extremists that blindly follow a would-be dictator! Your people burned the towers of Iacon, and then you came for Kaon's financial district, and now you've taken over the entire city-state of Polyhex! You fraggers killed my family! If I die then at least I know I took as many of you with me as possible!"

"Well then, I guess we're BLAM even," Warpath said bitterly, "Your precious council took my ZOWEE father, and they've probably killed him. You elitists think you're the BAM only ones that matter. Why is your pain more important than mine?"

Fallout could hear Warpath's tone growing colder the longer he spoke. His red optics and matching red vocal light made him look even more terrifying than he already was. It didn't matter that he was short. He was a tank, and he was a Decepticon. She saw the gleeful way he blew up those buildings and captured Autobot prisoners. Warpath was a killer, and she was next; she was sure of it.

The moment was broken when the door was forced open and admitted a Decepticon tank; Luster! He looked like he rushed all the way there, and he stared at first Fallout then Warpath and then back again.

"Hey, Warpath! I heard there was an Autobot saboteur on this level of the hotel and remembered Telemetry saying he saw you come here," Luster explained, "Have you seen anything? We're hunting down the saboteur and when we catch him we're gonna rip his internals out and show them to him!"

Warpath looked back at Fallout, the saboteur, and saw that her face was a mixture of defiant anger and primal fear. She knew she was trapped, and there was no way out. Meanwhile, Luster waited for his answer.

"No Luster," Warpath replied casually, "I haven't KABLAM seen anything like that here. Maybe the saboteur went ZAP out the fire escape."

"Hm. Good idea," Luster replied, "Thanks Warpath."

Luster ran down the hall, and Warpath shut the door behind him. He turned back to Fallout to see that she was still staring at him warily. He didn't know what to do next, and he really didn't want to have to look at her anymore. He couldn't believe he let an Autobot get to him like that.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Fallout asked.

"I don't know," Warpath shrugged, "I guess because Luster is a WHOOSH fate I wouldn't wish on my BANG worst enemy."

"So, are you gonna kill me?" Fallout asked point blank.

"I don't have to," Warpath replied noncommittally, "I could, but I probably won't. It seems like a POW waste to kill you."

"Oh, let me guess!," Fallout exclaimed in disgust, "You spare my life but in exchange I have to interface with you. You'll probably kill me afterwards anyway. Typical!"

"You don't KABLOOEY think much of me, do you?" Warpath asked; affronted.

"You're a Decepticon that blows up buildings for fun and holds a cannon to my chassis, so no. I don't think much of you," Fallout answered harshly.

"I'm not asking anything of you," Warpath curtly told her, "You're free. Just BAM get out. Oh, and I still hate you."

"Hey! That's my line," Fallout replied with a wry smile.

Fallout opened the door, looked both ways, and then up at the ceiling before she took off into the halls. Warpath just sat there on her berth and tried to get a grip on his emotions. Sure, nearly being killed was bad, but he was used to that. What he wasn't used to was a femme toying with his feelings. He was a little disappointed that she never saw him as anything more than an enemy target. A few minutes later he passed out on her berth and the last thought that went through his processor was that his hangover would probably hurt worse than his broken spark.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

A Cold Winter's Day

The next vorn in the Decepticon army was fairly routine with a few brief moments of excitement to break up the monotony. The troops traveled from time to time when they were told to take a new city for Megatron, they lost comrades every now and then, and Warpath was still scrubbing energon waste dispensers for most of his on-duty time.

Air Warrior was still a very ineffective soldier. Many blamed the fact that he wasn't trined yet, and Copper Mask had put in a request for two other seekers for the poor sap to be trined to. Air Warrior hated this idea. He didn't want to be in a trine yet! He was still young and had so much in his life he wanted to do on his own. Well, okay, he mostly just wanted to sit around and read books all day, but the last thing he wanted was a trine leader saying he couldn't.

Warpath hated it when other Decepticons yelled at Air Warrior or requested that he be taken off their team during war games. He wasn't doing much better himself, but Air Warrior's screw ups tended to stand out more. Like the time he got his wing caught in a revolving door, or the time he crashed into another seeker during agility training. There was even one time when he crashed into an unfinished building and demolished it! Air Warrior was seen as the team klutz, so Warpath usually stuck close to him during battle to keep him safe.

On this particular morning the troops were standing at attention as Copper Mask read off the territories that had fallen to the Decepticons. After that she droned on for a few minutes about the might of the Decepticon cause, Decepticon superiority to all other life forms, and the glorious life of conquest that awaited those loyal to Megatron and their cause. Copper Mask ended the speech with a hearty "All hail Megatron!" The troops all replied with their own "All hail Megatron!"

After the crowd began to disperse Warpath leaned over and up to whisper to Air Warrior.

"Does it ever feel like we're in a cult?" Warpath whispered drolly.

"Yeah, but for me it's not the first time," Air Warrior smirked.

Warpath quirked an optic ridge at Air Warrior, and Air Warrior replied with "What? I've led a full life."

Warpath chuckled and followed the seeker to the mess hall for their morning energon. Both of them had actually wondered for a while if they made the right decision to join the Decepticons. Now that they weren't starving and their minds were clear they could see the dog-eat-dog attitude of their brethren. Still, it seemed like the lesser of two evils. They might've been killers, but at least they weren't as oppressive as that conceited Sentinel Prime. The Autobots were the real threat, not them!

Warpath and Air Warrior took their energon to their room. This was typical of them these days since most of the others didn't like them and wanted to pick fights with them. They both felt the war would be unbearable if they didn't have each other to talk to. When they made it back to the room Warpath took his usual spot at the computer terminal while Air Warrior lounged on his berth and opened a new data file containing a Golden Age romance novel.

"Hey Warpath, want to hear something interesting?" Air Warrior asked; never taking his optics from his data pad.

"Sure. What is it?" Warpath asked in return.

"Well, I'm reading Dusk Is Forever by Half Life, and there's a character in here that reminds me of Luster," Air Warrior said with an impish smirk, "I quote: Gusto was an incorrigible slagger as he pushed down the younglings for fun and blustered with all his might. He felt himself a gift to femmes and the bane of mechs, but in reality he could never see beyond himself, and therefore left the taste of bitter medical energon in the mouth of Double Diamond Dusk. End quote. Seriously, does that not sound like Luster?"

"Well, it does after that BLAM time last week when he tried to KAPOW entice that one femme that turned out to be an organic," Warpath laughed at the memory of Luster's face plate when he tried to open a port on a creature with no door, only to get slapped and have hot liquid poured on his helm.

Air Warrior chuckled along as he continued to scan over his data pad distractedly. He found the multitasking helped to clear his processor of all the ugliness of training and the pressure of forming a new trine. He never thought his commander would actually force him to trine, but at this point it was a real possibility.

Warpath sat at the terminal for a few more minutes until he got a signal from his comm link.

/Warpath. This is Copper Mask. My office. Now./

"Uh oh…" Warpath said nervously.

"Uh oh? What's uh oh?" Air Warrior asked as he looked over his data pad at Warpath.

"Copper Mask wants to ZAP see me, and she sounds pretty fragged off," Warpath explained.

"Oh, okay," Air Warrior replied blandly, "Hey, if she executes you, can I keep your new guidance system?"

"Ha ha, very funny!" Warpath groused half-jokingly.

That was another thing Warpath noticed since they had joined the Decepticons. Air Warrior's sense of humor had gotten darker. Air Warrior wasn't exactly sunshine and cyber kittens before, but since seeing so many mechs die on the battlefield Air Warrior had become even more macabre. Warpath assumed it was how he coped. Warpath just coped by drinking high grade and trying to see the positive in things when he was sober.

He walked to Copper Mask's office like a mech on death row. He always hated seeing his superior officer, and if she was mad at him it was even worse. To even call her she was kind of misleading. She wasn't so much a femme as a battle axe with a large rounded frame and all the charm of a smelter. She transformed into some kind of construction equipment, but Warpath didn't know what her frame type was called. He thought it might be a cement mixer, but he wouldn't bet money on that.

Warpath entered the office with trepidation, and Copper Mask followed his every move with her sharp scarlet optics. He sat down, and the chair squeaked loudly. He felt like he was back in school again as his awkward frame adjusted to a chair that was too big and too slippery for him.

When he finally got himself adjusted, Copper Mask asked "You through?" In a gruff and annoyed tone of voice.

"Yes, sir!" Warpath answered formally as he tried to sit at attention; only for the chair to squeak some more.

"At ease, rust bucket," Copper Mask drawled irritably, "As you probably know, our mighty leader Megatron is expanding Decepticon operations to places beyond Cybertron. The Autobots have tried to move their supply operations off-planet, so we are going after them. We need troops to brave the elements of these strange new worlds and slay the Autobots for the glory of the Decepticons. Warpath, you are one of our troops that has been selected for a dangerous new mission on planet Gorr. I want you to take this list of Decepticons going to Gorr and tell the other troops about their exciting new assignment. You and your fellow soldiers will have a chance to earn real status on this mission, and the chance to cripple the Autobots forces once and for all!"

Warpath couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was getting a promotion! They thought he was good enough to send to another planet! He wasn't even sure he was good enough to be a hall monitor. This was incredible news! Warpath looked over the list Copper Mask had given him and saw there were 8 other recruits going to Gorr. He was one of only 9!

His good mood sank, however, when he noticed that one name was missing…

"Wait a minute, sir!" Warpath exclaimed, "Why isn't BANG Air Warrior's name on this list?"

"Because he's not going," Copper Mask replied sternly, "You might be a moron, but at least you know how to shoot a target. Air Warrior can't do anything right. We can't risk putting that glitch on a mission this critical. He stays."

"But-" Warpath tried to defend him, but Copper Mask put up a hand to stop him from talking any further.

"That's final," Copper Mask said firmly, "Now, go tell the others of their assignment. I don't have time to have this conversation 8 more times. You are dismissed Warpath. Now, get out of my office."

Warpath felt crushed that he and Air Warrior were going to be separated. He was the one that protected Air Warrior in combat and defended his ability during training. Air Warrior was his friend. He introduced Warpath to cultured topics like books and TV documentaries that were about more serious topics than cute fuzzy organics. Air Warrior listened to him when he had a rough day, and he did the same for Air Warrior. How could they survive without each other in this harsh environment? They were like brothers, only they got along. What was Warpath going to do?

Warpath stood in front of the shuttle and waited for the rest of his team. Air Warrior hadn't been as upset as Warpath had thought he would be when he heard the news. While Warpath yelled and screamed about how unfair it was, Air Warrior stayed calm and reminded him that they could still send long-range messages to each other. He even mentioned that if they won the war faster because of this it would benefit not only them but all Decepticons.

The tank-former sighed again as he stood and waited. Air Warrior was just trying to make him feel better, he knew it, but really what he needed then was for someone else to feel his pain. He didn't want to be transferred if Air Warrior couldn't go, but there was nothing they could do about it, so he tried to think positive thoughts.

One thought that wasn't too positive was that Luster was going to Gorr with him. Why didn't they just send Sentinel Prime while they were at it? Warpath didn't exactly hate Luster, but he wasn't too fond of Luster's ruthless attitude and the way he tried to get on the other cadets' nerves.

The other names weren't familiar to Warpath. There was him, Luster, and also some mechs named Tops, Compactor, Plague, Rimshot, and a trine of seekers named Gem Cloud, Uppercut, and Turbulence. Gem Cloud was the only femme in their group.

It took several breems to gather everyone together in the shuttle, and once they were all inside Warpath realized how crowded it was. He was squashed and surrounded by other dirty metallic frames, and since he was so short he was about crotch height to everyone else. It was miserable, and everyone had to remain standing during the entire journey.

The shuttle departed, and Warpath realized just how old the transport vehicle was when it started shaking and rattling violently. Everyone was rattled around like jumping beans yet couldn't move at the same time! It was a strange experience.

"Why'd they make us travel in this old bucket of bolts?" Luster complained.

"Hey, careful! He might BLAM hear you!" Warpath exclaimed; mortified by Luster's behavior toward the old shuttle whose name he already forgot.

Others groaned, but nobody said anything else. Even Luster didn't feel like arguing anymore. Warpath just hoped this journey would be over soon.

When the shuttle landed on Gorr the crew had been trapped inside the ship together for 9 joors! It was torture, but at least it was over.

"Decepticons," a deep rumbling voice echoed throughout the space, and they could tell it was the shuttle speaking, "Planet Gorr has a vast amount of energon, but it comes from the sky. Be careful when you go outside not to sink."

Sink? What did he mean by that? Warpath didn't like the sound of that, but Luster was already transforming into tank mode and rolling out of the shuttle and into the cold world. Cold, as it turned out, in a very literal sense.

"Hey guys! You gotta come see this!" Luster called out after being out there for a few seconds.

The other soldiers looked at each other, none wanting to fall for what might be a prank on Luster's part. Warpath was used to being the aft of his jokes however, and decided he would risk it for a chance to see something new.

What he saw caused his intakes to pause. The temperature was freezing, and there were little flakes of pink colored energon gently falling from the sky. The energon littered the ground and crunched when they stepped or rolled on it. The dark purple sky sprinkled the energon like confetti on the surface of the ground. Luster was already far away from the ship exploring, and Warpath found himself walking slowly in an unknown direction. He continued to look up at the sky as energon flakes fell on his face plate. When it melted it felt like a static kiss.

Soon the others were cautiously emerging from the shuttle. They looked around at the strange phenomenon with wonder and apprehension. No one spoke until finally Tops said "I've seen this type of weather pattern before. I think it's called snow. It usually is made of water or liquid nitrogen. I've never seen energon snow before."

"It's beautiful," Gem Cloud breathed, "So this is what the Autobots wish to hoard from us."

"Well, we won't let that happen, Sis," Turbulence assured her, "This planet will soon belong to the Decepticons. Count on that."

Warpath wasn't listening to them anymore. He had walked far enough away that he could pretend there was no one else there. It was just him and the snow. He only wished Air Warrior was there to share the experience with. Despite all of this beauty, there were no friends among these troops. It only served to remind Warpath of how lonely he was.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Spark of Ice

The next few stellar cycles were rough on Warpath. There were many battles with the Autobots on planet Gorr. Six of his former teammates had been killed in the attacks. The only ones left of the original 9 were himself, Luster, and Plague. Plague wasn't a bothersome mech, but he never spoke. Luster was convinced he was mute, but Warpath just thought he didn't like to talk.

Over the cycles new mechs came to replace the old, and then those were killed and replaced with even more new Decepticons. It got to the point where they would just scrap dead bodies for spare parts, and Warpath felt disgusted by the lack of respect for the dead. He did everything in his power to avoid getting injured so he wouldn't have to get replacement parts. That was probably why he lived so long compared to everyone else.

Another change that happened for Warpath was that he stopped trying so hard to get to know new recruits. He used to love meeting new people, but losing them became too difficult to bear. So now he would party at night and have a drink with anyone who would sit with him, but he wouldn't get to know them anymore. There was no point. They were just going to die soon anyway, or else he was.

Warpath was now one of only three senior officers on planet Gorr, so he was more respected than he used to be, but that was a poor substitute for friendship. Still, respect beat having nothing.

He would still speak to Air Warrior over the long distance channels when he could, but his schedule was more hectic than ever now. Sometimes they went half a cycle without speaking to each other. It wasn’t just because Warpath was busy though. Air Warrior had his own problems as well, namely his trine.

His new trinemates were named Sunstorm and Deathwind. Sunstorm was the trine leader by right of his aristocratic birth, but the seeker was crazier than a sack of mixed nuts! He had the ability to set himself on fire, and poor Air Warrior had been accidentally burned more than once. Deathwind wasn't much better with his constant demands and making it clear in no uncertain terms that Air Warrior embarrassed him. Warpath hated to hear that news from Cybertron. Air Warrior deserved better than that from his new trine.

It was a surprisingly warm day on Gorr when a new phase in history was announced. For Warpath it started like any other day. He was drinking his morning energon with a group of tanks that included Luster and a few newbies. His energon was secretly high grade. Warpath didn't like to admit it, but he got overcharged way too often and it was starting to become a problem.

Luster was regaling the new soldiers with tales of his alleged bravery and prowess on the battlefield. It didn't matter that it was all a bunch of slag. It boosted the morale of the younger mechs, so Warpath didn’t call him out. Warpath was disgusted with Luster's yearning for battle however. He had trouble believing that when he first met Luster he wanted to be his friend. Now he just wanted the red tank to go away.

During the slag-story Plague came up to the table, and he had a jittery look about him that made them pause. Normally Plague was quiet but stoic. To see him so nervous was unusual.

"What do you want, Plague?" Luster asked rudely, "Oh wait, I forgot. You can't answer me! Go bother someone else, you mute fragger!"

Plague ducked his helm but made no move to leave. Warpath couldn't help but stare. Plague usually didn't stand this close to them, so something must be wrong, but Warpath couldn't figure out what was eating at the purple ambulance minibot.

Finally, they heard a sound. It sounded like a hiss or a whisper, and it actually took Warpath a minute to realize Plague had spoken!

"What did you POWEE say?" Warpath asked eagerly with the disposition of a bird watcher in the presence of a rare specimen.

"Dead…" Plague muttered so quietly Warpath had to strain to hear.

"Slag! Either tell us or get lost, you fragger!" Luster demanded harshly.

"Sentinel Prime is dead," Plague whispered quickly, "...Megatron killed him. We did it. We won. Cybertron is ours."

Plague said these words quietly and without inflection, but the meaning caused the sparks of everyone who heard him to swell up with pride. The Autobots had no Prime. They would be forced to surrender and make Megatron their glorious new dictator! The war would soon be over!

"Hey, everybody!" Luster hollered as he climbed up the table, "Megatron killed that slagger Sentinel Prime! Cybertron will soon be ours! All hail the Decepticons!"

Cheers and whooping immediately followed his words. Plague was grateful he didn't have to tell anyone else. He wasn't comfortable speaking to others. Warpath kind of liked the little medic. He reminded the burgundy tank of Air Warrior. That was when he realized this news meant he could go back to Cybertron and see his friend again. He could meet Air Warrior's trine and show him the videos he'd taken of Gorr. That would be a great day.

That night was spent partying as every Decepticon on the base got wasted on the surplus energon they wouldn't need to send down for the war effort anymore. The Autobots remaining on Gorr went into hiding. They knew what this news meant for them. No Prime meant they were at Megatron's mercy.

A few joors later found Warpath, Luster, and Plague working at the console trying to get in touch with Cybertron. They wanted to know the soonest date they could return home.

Luster informed them that he would stay a soldier after the war. He knew Megatron would need loyal troops to uphold his martial law. Warpath knew Luster just liked that he was the senior officer on Gorr. Warpath scratched his helm in bemusement as he came to the realization that for stellar cycles he had been the second in command of the entire planet's forces. Oh well, at least power didn't go to his head. It couldn't, since he didn't notice he had any.

They couldn't get in touch with anyone since the lines were bogged down with other calls all over the galaxy. Probably other Cybertronians trying to figure out where they stood and if their loved ones were still alive. By now Warpath was sure his creator was not, but at least his death at the council’s servos would not go unavenged. 

Even though they couldn't call out, someone had managed to call their public line. When Luster saw the blinking light he quickly answered it hoping it was someone telling them what Megatron's orders for the people were now. It wasn't.

"Hey Bluster, long time no miss," Air Warrior snarked when he saw who answered the line, "Can I talk to Warpath for a few minutes? I've been on hold for groons."

"Get off the line, you seeker slag!" Luster growled, "We've got more urgent matters to attend to!"

"Oh yeah? Trying to get a ride home? Well don't," Air Warrior crossed his arms across his cockpit as he said, "The Autobots aren't through yet. They chose a new Prime."

"What?!" Luster snarled furiously, "Those slag heaps! How dare they defy the will of Megatron?!"

"Hey, I'm just telling you what's been all over the news," Air Warrior shrugged, "He's some unknown mech named Optimus Prime. Real mysterious. Nobody knows where he came from or why they chose him. You can't even see his face. It's like he popped up out of thin air or something. All they know is that he managed to evenly match Megatron in battle, and now all forces are regrouping and intensifying their training schedules; my unit included."

"I hope you and your ZOW trine manage to stay safe and alert," Warpath cautioned, though he wished he was there to help the seekers himself.

"Yeah, you too," Air Warrior replied, "Gorr might not have a lot of forces, but you guys can't give up. That planet has energon that falls out of the sky! The Decepticons need to keep control of it, or the Autobots will walk all over us. Hey Warpath, you still want that poncho I made out of chain mail? It might keep you warm when those frigid nights hit."

"Sure, if you can find a good ZOOM carrier."

"Yeah, well, I should get off. As much as I hate to admit it, Luster's right when he says I shouldn't tie up the line," Air Warrior said apologetically.

"Yeah, goodbye!" Warpath waved as the transmission was cut.

The three mechs in the room just stared at one another. They didn't know what they were going to do. They would have to stay here, the war was still on, and the Autobots replaced their corrupt but weak Prime with a new stronger Prime that could pose a real threat to the Decepticons. To think this orn had started out so well…

It had been half a vorn since Warpath left for Gorr. He had killed many times in battle by now, and he finally started to pull rank when a new cadet stepped out of line. Warpath hated being the disciplinarian, but it seemed like he was the only one who was qualified. Luster only cared about getting his ego stroked, so he usually beat the soldiers whether they deserved it or not. Warpath at least tried to be fair. Still, he couldn't let them get away with too much or they would eat him alive.

His calls to and from Air Warrior became less and less. He had a job to do, and so did Air Warrior. Warpath had replaced friends with fun. When he wasn't on duty he was getting overcharged or going to parties. It was a miserable and lonely life no matter how much fun he tried to pretend he was having. Warpath just felt empty after the day was through.

When Warpath was sober he found he spent a lot of time in the snow. He loved it outside because the planet was beautiful and nobody bothered him out there. Warpath never thought he'd be the type to want to be alone, but hanging around Air Warrior for so long taught him the joys of solitude. Air Warrior liked to be alone, and his behavior rubbed off on the tank.

Warpath looked at the pink frost all around him where he was sitting, and scooped some up to drink it. It melted in his servo, and he slurped it down. It was dirty when compared to refined energon, but it still gave his systems that warm sensation that told him his systems were refueling. He also looked at his arm. He really needed to get that scratch taken care of. It reminded him of that fight he got into the other orn. He got into a lot of fights lately. Usually with mechs that made fun of his speech impediment. Warpath was at a point in his life when he was just tired of dealing with everyone else's slag.

He looked at his distorted reflection in the glowing snow, and wondered where his enthusiasm and love of life went. Being a Decepticon was killing him inside, but he didn't know how to escape. This was who he was now. A jaded soldier that killed on command and drank the memories away.

He heard a crunching noise in the snow, and lifted his helm up to see who it was approaching him. It was Plague. The purple ambulance shivered, but his faceplate looked uncomfortable for more reasons than just cold.

"Warpath, sir…" Plague whispered into the howling air, "There was a communication from Cybertron."

Plague didn't say anything else for a few minutes. Warpath wondered why he was hesitating, but then Plague looked up at him with miserable optics and suddenly he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Air Warrior...was killed in battle today," Plague whispered softly as he ducked in expectation of a blow like Luster gave out when he was upset.

"What?" Was all Warpath could say at first.

"I'm sorry…" Plague muttered, "Commander Sunstorm and Commander Deathwing request your presence on Cybertron. You have 3 orns of leave for your trip."

"Why would they BANG want me there?" Warpath asked skeptically.

"Because you were his friend," Plague said as if it should be obvious, "Air Warrior probably included you in his will. He came from a well-off family in Vos."

Warpath couldn't think about wills and trips to Cybertron. His processor felt like it had frozen in the snow. Air Warrior was dead? It didn't seem real. Sure, it had been several orns since they last spoke, but that couldn't be the last time ever, right? No, it had to be a mistake. It wasn't Air Warrior. They were wrong. He would call the seeker and see for himself that everything was fine.

He sat in the snow and held onto that illusion until Plague left. When the medic was gone, he went to his room. He just sat there for a few moments.

When he looked over at the books Air Warrior had given him, it finally hit him, and he cried at last over his friend.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Scrapped

Warpath hitchhiked to Cybertron on various shuttles and courier ships. He felt so guilty, though logically he shouldn't have. He just kept beating himself up over Air Warrior's death. Many people didn't know this about Warpath, but he had a strong protective instinct. He had an inbuilt need to defend the weak and stand up for the defenseless. Among the Decepticons this was considered a weakness, so he never talked about it with anyone. He felt he should've been there to keep Air Warrior safe. They never should've been forced apart. Then this never would have happened to his best friend.

A part of him also felt nervous about meeting his trine. On the one hand Warpath was angry at them for never treating Air Warrior with respect and then letting him die, but he also knew this was Air Warrior's family. They shared a bond as strong as Warpath once had with his own creator. They were the closest mechs in Air Warrior's life, and they were going to be judging Warpath's behavior.

The ship finally landed, and Warpath disembarked and rolled out onto the tarmac in his alt mode. Polyhex looked very different from the last time he was here. Now the buildings were covered with Decepticon insignias and the streets were filthy. There were empties everywhere scrounging in the trash for energon cubes with even a few drops left for themselves. Soldiers patrolled the streets and the skies. This was what he had wanted. Decepticon rule prevailed. So why did it look so miserable and unclean? Warpath ignored this internal question and drove to the military barracks where Air Warrior and his trine stayed.

When he made it inside he saw that at least one thing was the same. This place was still oppressive and dark. Soldiers looked at him menacingly, and he was reminded of that very first day when he joined the Decepticons with Air Warrior and Luster. That felt like an eternity ago, but it probably wasn't as long ago as he thought.

"Some things never POW change…" Warpath said to himself, "New recruits still BAM hate strangers."

Warpath went to the receptionist to ask where he could find Sunstorm and Deathwind, and the receptionist directed him to private quarters on D wing. Warpath was impressed that the trine had their own quarters, but then he remembered Air Warrior mentioning that Sunstorm was related to the former prince of Vos. Legally Sunstorm was supposed to be the next prince, but he was considered too fanatical by his family to be trusted with such an important title. Yeah, that was comforting!

Warpath transformed into robot mode, knocked on the door, and was admitted by a dark blue and charcoal grey seeker. That had to be Deathwind.

"Hello. You must be Warpath," Deathwind said without inflection, "We've been expecting you. Do come in."

Warpath actually felt a little better after seeing this guy. His dry speech pattern kind of reminded him of Air Warrior, and despite them not being created together Warpath could tell there used to be a trine bond between Deathwind and Air Warrior.

"I'm so sorry for your ZAM loss!"

Warpath tried to sound respectful, but his voice raised inappropriately and made them both feel awkward.

"Thank you, Warpath," Deathwind replied after a moment of disconcerting silence, "I hope you don't mind, but we cleaned up Air Warrior's berth for you to recharge on for the night. The hotels are no place for a respectable soldier in this neighborhood."

"Uh, sure, okay," Warpath replied a little too awkwardly.

He wanted to sound grateful, but he felt weird recharging in Air Warrior's berth. It just reminded him that Air Warrior wasn't there.

"So, uh, where's Sunstorm?" Warpath asked after looking around for a moment.

"He's praying at the chapel," Deathwind replied in a soft reverent voice, "Ever since this tragedy he has become even more withdrawn. Sunstorm is very religious, so you might want to avoid the subject if it makes you uncomfortable."

"As long as he doesn't CLANK sacrifice me, I'm good!" Warpath joked, but then regretted it with the icy stare Deathwind gave him, "Sorry. I don't mind if he WHOOSH talks about religion."

"Yes, well...*sigh*...do you mind if I confess something, Warpath?" Deathwind asked rather suddenly, and Warpath nodded for Deathwind to proceed, "I fear I'm losing Sunstorm. He never wanted to be in a trine, and neither did Air Warrior. I feel like I'm the only one who ever tried to make this unit function! Nobody wants to be the nagging parental figure in a trine, but it has been my lot since I joined with these two headaches! I'm still trying to find a replacement trine mate, but I fear Sunstorm will leave me before that happens. I don't know what will happen to us if he tries to sever our trine bond. I'm scared, young mech, and I don't know what to do!"

Deathwind was crying by this point with his helm and arms draped over Warpath's chassis. Warpath didn't know how to handle this situation. He had just met this mech, and while he didn't mind physical closeness this seemed a little sudden. Besides, his own spark was still breaking. He couldn't deal with watching another mech fall apart over the same tragedy.

"Deathwind...Do you mind if I WHAM see the body?" Warpath asked as softly as he could manage, "I need to ZAP make myself believe he's really BOOM gone."

Deathwind bolted upright then and stared down at Warpath with incredulous orange optics.

"Warpath, it's been half an orn since Air Warrior's passing," Deathwind winced, "We can't afford to keep an intact body around for that long. He's already been scrapped for parts by the medics. All we kept are his possessions. You are free to look through the boxes for anything you might want. Air Warrior also stated in his will that he wanted you to have half of his estate. It comes out to be 30,800 credits after taxes."

Warpath's optics stared off into the distance. This couldn't be real. They scrapped his best friend? They tore Air Warrior's body apart? They took his laser core, his wings, his fuel lines...everything? It was disgusting! Warpath always hated the practice of tearing a freshly dead body apart for one's own selfish needs, but this was just obscene! He knew some soldiers wouldn't mind, but it wasn't as if anyone got a choice in the matter. When Warpath died they would do the same thing to him, and it made him so angry! They took away what was left of his best friend!

"I'm going out for a while," Warpath announced, "I need to KAPOW be alone for a while."

"I understand," Deathwind replied sympathetically, "If you need the chapel, I would suggest waiting until Sunstorm is gone. He tends to get very...excited when he's in there."

Warpath nodded as he was leaving. He didn't even look back at the seeker. He just needed some time to think about things. He would go through the boxes of stuff later. For the moment he couldn't even look at anything that belonged to Air Warrior, and he was definitely finding a hotel so he wouldn't have to sleep in his berth.

Three orns later found Warpath back on Gorr. Everything was running exactly the same as when he left, and the normality of it was welcome after the time he spent with Air Warrior's former trine.

Sunstorm hadn't been what Warpath expected. He had heard rumors of the seeker's instability and fanaticism, but no one bothered to mention how intelligent and well spoken the seeker was. Warpath also got the chance to see the yellow seeker in battle. He was almost as scary to Warpath as he was to the Autobots! At the end of the orn however, Sunstorm was grieving just as much as the rest of them. Like Warpath and Deathwind, he just missed his trine mate.

Really, the two seekers seemed like they would've been ideal trine mates for Air Warrior. They were all intelligent, clean, and introverted. Of course, Warpath knew better. Air Warrior always complained about the way they treated him. They were both demanding and unreasonable. They expected a level of perfection that Air Warrior wasn't capable of giving them. It was sad that the three couldn't work out their conflicts in life. They could've been an efficient unit and a loving family if only they had listened to each other.

Warpath walked slowly as his pedes sank in the snow. This planet felt as close to a home to him as any other, and even though he didn't know or care about anybody here, he was grateful to be back.

It was 4 orns later when Luster called a staff meeting of the senior officers (all 3 of them). Warpath sat down across from Luster with Plague on his left and an empty chair on his right. They really needed to hire some new people, Warpath thought to himself as he waited for Luster to explain why he called this little farce.

"Alright mechs, I'm gonna get straight to the point," Luster intoned as he supported himself on the table and looked squarely into each Decepticon's optics, "Security footage has caught Autobots in the area breaking into our energon reserves and stealing our cubes. They only take a few cubes at a time so we won't notice, but they're slowly trying to cripple our defenses. The last snow fell last joor, and when it melts those reserves will be all we have to survive the summer months, so we need to guard those warehouses from the Autoscum that are trying to sabotage us. Warpath, I want you to assign guards since you know the troops so well, and Plague, I want you and your medical team to gather as much snow as possible for refining. We need enough for 10 Gorr months. Do I make myself clear?"

Plague nodded calmly, and Warpath replied with a hearty "ZOWEE! You got it!"

"Good. All hail Megatron!" Luster shouted to close the meeting, but neither mech replied to him.

Warpath was feeling right at home again. Assigning troops to missions and guarding energon? He was right in his element.

Warpath had the night shift that particular orn. He would spend 3 joors patrolling the warehouses with two other rookie soldiers. He didn't have to assign himself a shift, and he knew Luster would never volunteer to assign himself more work, but the tank-former felt he had a responsibility to give as much as he asked of everyone else. If only it wasn't so cold that night…

After a few groons of freezing his treads off, he decided to transform back into robot mode and spend a few minutes inside a warehouse to get warm. Well, maybe not warm, but it would get the wind off his aft for a few breems.

He went inside the shed and sighed contentedly when he was out of the weather. He just stood in front of the door for a few moments, but then his tranquility was disturbed when he heard a cube fall on the ground about twenty mechano-meters from where he was.

That was too close. If it had exploded it would've caused a chain reaction and the whole building would've gone down!

"Hey, who's POP there?" Warpath shouted angrily.

The next sound he heard was that of running footsteps. That was when he knew. There was an Autobot in this warehouse.

Warpath didn't even bother chasing the intruder. The only door in or out was the one Warpath was standing in front of. The Autobot couldn't escape him without a fight. He locked the door and waited with a triumphant smirk on his face plate.

"Nice try, Autobutt! If you wanna WHAM get out of here, you have to go through me!" Warpath taunted his prey.

He waited a few minutes for the Autobot to emerge, but the coward was hiding from him still. Warpath was getting bored just waiting for something to happen, and he couldn't risk the slagger either drinking more energon or setting off an explosion, so he turned on his scanners and found a spark signature 16 mechano-meters away. He transformed into tank mode so he could move more quietly and make sharper turns. He didn't really have a mode made for stealth, but it would have to do.

He crept up until he knew the Autobot was around the next stack of cubes. He then swiftly transformed back into robot mode and jumped behind the Autobot!

"BAM! I got you now, Auto-!" Warpath shouted victoriously, but then stopped when he saw his cornered quarry.

It was a sparkling! A small Autobot sparkling with red and white plating and big blue optics, staring at Warpath like he was a monster sprung forth from the depths of a nightmare.

The little mech started shaking, and Warpath could see energon leaking from his mouth where he had just finished gulping down some of his stolen treasure.

"P-Please, don't shoot me!" The little sparkling sobbed as he slowly stood up, "I'm sorry! Please, Mr. Decepticon sir. I'll do anything you want! Please don't kill me! I'll never do it again! Please!"

Warpath looked at the scuffed up frame of the pitiful little thing, and his spark broke for the little guy. His dull colors suggested he hadn't refueled in cycles, and his fluid-soaked optics looked so miserable as he begged the big scary Decepticon for his life. Warpath couldn't hurt this poor thing. He was just a sparkling.

Warpath reached down to pick up the sparkling, but the little mechling scooted further into a corner and whimpered in fear of the larger tank. Warpath felt awful, even though he hadn't done anything to him. He had never thought of himself the way an Autobot might see him, and he certainly never thought about what an Autobot sparkling might think of him. To this young mech, Warpath was evil.

"I'm not gonna POW hurt you, kid," Warpath tried to soothe the tyke, but his crying out POW only made the sparkling flinch and try to retreat further into the corner, "No, it's okay! Really!"

The sparkling dared to look up at him again, but the fear in his optics was just as strong as ever. He was sure Warpath was there to kill him, or worse.

"Listen little guy," Warpath said as he backed up a step to give the sparkling room, "If I let you go, will you ZOWEE promise to never come here for energon again?"

"Yes, sir!" The sparkling agreed immediately, "I'll tell Daddy we have to move out. I promise! You'll never see us again!"

"Move out?" Warpath exclaimed, and winced when the sparkling curled into a fetal position, "Wait, you mean to BLAST tell me that you and your father ZAM live in our warehouses?"

The sparkling looked ashamed and fearful, but reluctantly he nodded his head yes.

"You tore down our home base," The sparkling explained, "We live here because there's plenty of food here, and we thought you'd never think to look for us so close to you. Please forgive us. I promise we'll leave. I promise!"

Warpath felt so sorry for the sparkling. Part of him just wanted to pretend he saw nothing and let him live in the warehouse forever. The problem was the sparkling's father. He was an Autobot, and most likely a soldier. Warpath couldn't let this go. But he didn't want to kill the sparkling's father or take him prisoner. That would leave the kid an orphan. He could, however, meet them halfway.

"Alright, you and your father KABOOM leave this warehouse for good, and I'll ZAP pretend I never saw you here," Warpath bargained with the sparkling, "You have to keep your word though. If I ZOOM catch you here ever again, I'll have to take your father BAM prisoner."

"I promise!" The sparkling said yet again, "Don't worry, I'm an Autobot, and an Autobot always keeps his word!"

"Yeah, right," Warpath rolled his optics at that one, but was satisfied enough with the boy's answer.

He would have to keep special tabs on this warehouse, and maybe take the night shift for a few more orns to make sure they were gone, but he felt good that at least he protected the sparkling from detection. His life might've been worth slag at the moment, but at least he helped someone else out in need...even if it was the enemy.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

I Hate My Reputation!

The next few vorns were more of the same. Winters came and went, followed by the famine periods more commonly known as summer. Warpath drank more and more high grade when the weather allowed, and he grew more and more frustrated with Luster's style of command.

Luster would frequently force lower-ranking cadets to do personal chores and favors for him, he harassed the femmes on the base, and he publicly beat those who dared to question him. Even Warpath wasn't immune to the after-effects of Luster's foul moods. The scuffs and scratches on his frame were proof enough of that.

Plague had finally grown tired of being bullied by Luster and requested a transfer. Three times he was denied, but the fourth time Plague was sent to a small outpost on planet Charr. He would likely be the only one there, which suited the little medic just fine. The other soldiers were upset, however. Plague was one of the few medics in the Decepticon ranks that wasn't a complete psycho, and with him leaving they didn't know who or what they were going to get as a replacement.

As it turned out, a replacement wouldn't be necessary. Luster and Warpath received the call from Commander Ramjet that all Decepticons on Gorr were being transferred from the planet back to Cybertron. Apparently the energon collected on planet Gorr was insufficient, and the Autobots on Cybertron had incurred Megatron's wrath. For this reason the warlord was recalling as many units as he could spare for a full-scale invasion on a city-state filled with Autobot sympathizers.

When the troops started packing up their stuff to leave, Warpath felt a twinge of sorrow at leaving behind such a beautiful planet. Gorr wasn't much, but he enjoyed the snow and the clouded purple skies. Cybertron didn't have clouds most of the time, and the sky was often grey or black due to their star being so far away. Cybertron had daylight maybe a dozen orns out of every vorn.

"This is gonna be fun!" Luster exclaimed as he packed up the energon dispensers, "Those slagging Autobot lovers won't know what hit 'em! Megatron has chosen us to be his avenging fists and hungry swords, and by all that is sparked I will show them the full fury of the Decepticons!"

"Easy there, Tigetron," Warpath chuckled, "You sound like a BLAM holovid character."

"Heheh, good one, sir," One of the other soldiers commended Warpath.

Luster frowned at the soldier, and he nervously saluted his trigger-happy commander. Warpath quirked an optic ridge at Luster's bullying, but he didn't say anything. He didn't like to make waves with Luster, even if the red retro-rat deserved it.

It was several joors later when they arrived on Cybertron. From the open sky they could see seekers, shuttles, and space ships converging on the same location that they were going to. Apparently the fighting hadn't started yet, but it was getting close to time to wage war with the Autobots.

"So Luster, do you know where we're POW going?" Warpath asked as they landed on the tarmac.

"Yeah, some city called Praxus," Luster said disinterestedly.

"Praxus?!" A young car-former in their group gasped, "That's my hometown! They're not a military base. It's all civilians!"

"I know that," Luster growled in a tone of voice that left no room for argument, "And so does Megatron. However, their city-state is guilty of conspiring with war criminals; Autobots. We’re wiping away those that would keep our planet under the heel of the old system! We are Decepticons. We are here because we are strong. Praxus is weak, and it must be punished! So I want you to file into formation and take down as many of those infidels as you can! Do you hear me, Decepticons?"

"Sir, yes sir!" The entire group shouted in reply.

Warpath took his place in the front of the formation with Luster and several other young soldiers whose names he didn't remember. This was it. They were going to march into Praxus and mow down whoever the seekers left behind. They were a single mind, a machine of death and sorrow, and Warpath was but one of its many cogs. He was just grateful that it wasn't his hometown.

Car-formers with shaking doorwings ran into the streets screaming bloody murder as the seekers rained down on them like acid from the sky. Wherever they ran would be useless however as there were tanks, trains, and cars blocking every exit from the city. There was no escape. The Decepticons had come for them, and they were all going to die.

Luster ordered seven of their fellow soldiers to stay behind and guard the road leading out of the city while the rest of the group broke formation and searched the streets for survivors to kill. Warpath was uncomfortable with this. If these Praxians truly were civilians then that meant they were innocent. Could he really kill innocent beings?

He would do his duty and search, but Warpath decided to pick locations that had already been thoroughly combed through so he would likely not run into anyone. He really didn't want to be there, but he was a Decepticon, and like it or not, this was his duty. So despite his misgivings, he soldiered on.

He was in his tank form cruising down an alleyway when he found his path blocked by rubble from a fallen building. Deciding he still wanted to go that way, Warpath transformed into robot mode and climbed the pile of debris to get to the other side. When he slid down the pile of rubble, he saw there was an opening on the next street and he could've just walked around. He smacked his forehead at how stupid he was to not check that out beforehand.

Sighing in resignation, Warpath walked a few mechano-meters more. He had to stop however, when he saw a lone form in the middle of the alley looking out at everything in shock.

It was a little Praxian sparkling standing all alone in the wreckage. This was a problem. Sparklings were Warpath's weakness. He felt the need to protect anything innocent, but if he approached the little thing it might run away from him. Why wouldn't it? He was destroying its home.

Deciding to take the direct approach and hope for the best, Warpath whistled to the sparkling to get its attention. That seemed to pull the little mechling out of his shock, because he looked up at Warpath with wide fearful optics.

"Hey little guy," Warpath tried to whisper, "Don't be scared. I'll take you to BOOM safety."

The sparkling gasped and took a few steps back, and that was when Warpath noticed the little thing's left ankle barely hanging on by a thread of wire; energon still seeping from the wound. The sparkling wanted to run away from Warpath, but it was too hurt to move very fast.

Warpath realized he could catch the sparkling and take it back to the ship. Without Plague it would be difficult to find a good medic to repair the sparkling, but Warpath would risk it. Perhaps he could find a nice Decepticon family to take him in and teach him the right way to think and live.

"Hold still, sparky," Warpath said with forced levity, "You'll be okay. I'm just gonna ZAP take you to a medic. You'll be BLOOEY fine."

Warpath inched closer to the sparkling as if he were trying to coax a cornered animal to get into a carrier. The sparkling didn't speak, but it shivered and looked at Warpath with wet frightened optics. Those blue optics would be burned in Warpath's memory forever. He just knew it. Just as he was about to grab the sparkling however…

"Warpath! What are you doing?" Luster yelled as he approached their position from behind the sparkling.

"I was just BAM retrieving a prisoner," Warpath replied unabashedly.

"No prisoners, Megatron's orders," Luster said with a hard edge to his voice, "Kill it."

"What? No!" Warpath protested with undisguised disgust and shock, "It's a sparkling! What kind of monster would kill a sparkling?"

"That so-called sparkling will grow up to be an Autobot," Luster reminded Warpath, "It might look cute now, but these things grow up, and we can't let that happen."

"Things?" Warpath spat, "You're talking about WHAM fellow Cybertronia-"

BOOM!

Luster had fired his cannon at the sparkling. Warpath froze and looked down at the spot where the little guy had stood only an astro second ago. Now there was nothing but a few splatters of energon and a few bits of metal. Not even enough left to prove a living being ever stood there.

Luster used his internal vent system to blow the smoke from his cannon, completely unaware of the fury boiling over in Warpath's blood red optics. Not even his face mask could hide the righteous vengeance glowing on Warpath's faceplate! Luster barely had time to look at Warpath before he realized the minibot's cannon was aimed right for his spark!

BOOM!

One of the soldiers had just walked into visual range when he saw Warpath shoot down Luster in cold blood and snuff out his spark. The soldier didn't know about the sparkling. He didn't know about Warpath's shattered soul. He only saw his SIC kill his CO, and believed that Warpath was officially their unit's Starscream.

The next few vorns on Cybertron were both easier and harder for Warpath. Ever since the Praxus invasion Warpath had been in command of his entire unit, and even had more Decepticons added to his ranks. He commanded 30 soldiers, and yet he could barely remember their names.

Truth was the soldiers were all afraid of him. Everyone knew the story of Luster, but each retelling made the story more and more vicious. Some believed Warpath made Luster beg for mercy before shooting him. Others believed Warpath had multiple personalities and would kill without warning and for no reason. Still others believed he was gunning for a position in Megatron's inner circle. The weirdest version of the story was when one mech said Warpath turned Luster's optics into a pair of gaming dice. That was probably the most offensive story to the burgundy tank-former.

He noticed the way the other Decepticons looked at him. If he was in the mess hall they would sneak peeks at him, and then quickly turn their helms away if he caught them staring at him. A few new recruits tried to fight him for his position, and he would be forced to defend himself. He always won, but mostly because he had more to lose than his opponents.

A part of him actually regretted what he did to Luster. True, the mech was a jerk and he murdered an innocent sparkling. Actually, if Warpath was honest with himself he would admit that Luster was evil. Still, he didn't even give the other tank a chance to fight back. It weighed heavily on Warpath's conscience despite every argument he made to himself that he was justified in what he did.

Sometimes at night he would think of Air Warrior. He had never had a good friend before Air Warrior, and he hadn't really had one since. He wondered what Air Warrior would do if he witnessed a fellow soldier kill a sparkling. Would he exact revenge as Warpath had done? Would he do anything at all? Would Air Warrior had gone on with his life as if nothing happened? Sometimes Warpath remembered the pain Air Warrior felt after his first kill. It was awful to watch, and he wondered why no one saw his own pain and thought the same thing.

What were the Decepticons becoming? This had all started out so righteous. They were trying to overthrow a corrupt government. Megatron was trying to free his people. Now though, they were killing sparklings and talking about universal conquest against planets that had never heard the name Cybertron.

To be fair, even Warpath had to admit to himself that he didn't care about any of that stuff at the time. He was a college kid who was starving and only cared about energon and hanging out with his best friend. Now he had energon, but many others did not. Now his best friend was gone, and so was his old college roommate. Now he was Lt. Warpath, a commander of 30 and the most feared member of his unit.

Many Decepticons would kill for his position. Many would kill for his reputation. He would stop killing just to get rid of both. If only he knew how...

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The Enemy?

Another transfer…Warpath couldn't believe his optics. How many times were they going to transfer him? He was getting shuffled around so much he felt like a deck of cards! Apparently his unit had been performing poorly, so he was being demoted and sent to a planet called Topitron. It was a small organic planet that mostly contained mud, enough solar power for low grade energon, and Autobots defending the native species.

Warpath snorted derisively at the idea of protecting a bunch of weak little organics. They were just animals, but the Autobots acted as if the beasts were sacred or something. Warpath had seen actual Cybertronians massacred and starving in the streets. It seemed like a waste of resources to care about aliens.

He packed his subspace full of odds and ends and prepared for departure. It was strange that he was the only one being transferred. He had been sent to new locations many times before, but it was always with a unit, never by himself. He would've said goodbye to his troops, but he knew they didn't like him anyway. He would've written to someone to let them know where he was going, but he couldn't think of a single mech or femme he was close to anymore. It seemed like his home was wherever he happened to be and his possessions were whatever he could carry in his subspace pocket.

As he rolled down the hallway in his alt mode heading for the shuttle he noticed the cadets clearing out of his way to make a path for him. He heard one whisper to another "Thank the matrix. He's finally leaving."

Warpath didn't react, but he wanted to say something. A small part of him was still that awkward young tank that just wanted other mechs to like him and accept him. He wanted to transform right then and there and say "Don't hate me! Don't be scared of me! I'm one of you!" He didn't though. It was too late for that.

Warpath was debriefed on his new mission once he was inside the shuttle. He was to be the second in command to a boat-former named Oil Fire, and his unit was assigned to pillage any and all Autobot bases. There was to be no bunker left standing, and the energon was to be catalogued and sent back to Cybertron. This would leave very little for the troops, including Warpath.

He hated this mission already. Warpath had gotten used to having energon in sufficient supply, and the idea of starving again while fighting at the same time seemed foolish. Megatron's orders were clear though, and his word was law. It seemed like Megatron was growing more ferocious and less sane by the orn.

When Warpath left the shuttle to see his new home for the next who-knows-how-long, he was immediately struck by the blue sky, the pink clouds, and the numerous birds flying overhead like disorganized seekers. It was safe to say this planet looked lousy, but at least he could see that the Decepticons had an actual building to live in instead of tents. With everything else being so primitive he wasn't sure about that until he saw it with his own optics.

His first stop was his berth room. He was one of only three officers that had his own quarters. The space was small, but fortunately as a minibot he didn't need a lot of room. Warpath unloaded a few trinkets and set them on the thin shelf going across the wall. There was a picture of him and his creator, a stress relief toy Air Warrior had given him, and a rock from every city he had ever conquered. His favorite piece of rubble was from Crystal City because of the way it caught the light, but the first one he ever collected was the one from Praxus. Warpath might not have cared about conquest, but his military career was all he had left, and he would remember every battle until the day he offlined.

It was the next orn when he was sent to Oil Fire's office to formally meet his CO. Oil Fire was a black and red boat-former that was three times larger than Warpath and twice as ugly. Burning red optics scrutinized Warpath as he sat down in the too-large chair and looked up at his commander with a gaze that spoke of hardened resignation and anticipation.

"Warpath. I expected you to be taller," Oil Fire said in a voice that sounded far too elegant for the crusty old vessel, "I've heard good things about you, soldier. You ran a tight ship back on Cybertron, and served on Gorr during the Autobot occupation of the territory. I hope you're as ruthless as they say you are, because I have a mission for you that every other Decepticon preceding you has failed to accomplish."

"I'll do whatever is BANG necessary," Warpath replied seriously.

"Ah, turrets syndrome. My grandsire had that," Oil Fire commented offhandedly, "You will need a certain degree of stealth for this mission. Can you handle that?"

The truth was Warpath was clumsy and loud. Stealth was not his strong suit, but he was improving in that department over the course of time. He knew whatever this assignment was had to be important, so he nodded affirmation and decided to just work harder to be quiet rather than lose an opportunity to advance his career.

"Excellent," Oil Fire replied approvingly, and then turned down the lights and activated a holographic diagram of an Autobot supply bunker, "This is where the Autobots are currently keeping most of their energon and medical supplies. As you can see the bunker looks ordinary and is typically unguarded. These pictures were secured at great risk by our field agent Buzzsaw. Fliers cannot fly on this planet for long due to the toxicity of the clouds as well as the overwhelming number of indigenous birds. Every ground unit we have sent to raid the bunker has been killed. No one can figure out why since there are usually no Autobots in the area at the time of the raids. Your mission is to go to the bunker and figure out what is killing our troops. Do not attempt to take the bunker. Comm me as soon as you figure out what's going on, and then return to base immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Warpath replied in a clipped tone of voice.

Yes, Warpath understood exactly what this was. This was a suicide mission. Oil Fire wanted him to comm the information because he didn't expect Warpath to return alive to bring the intel in-person. Still, he would do it. What did he really have to lose? His life? What life? His honor? Long gone.

Warpath disengaged his tank mode once he made it to the border. While his treads made for a smoother ride, he needed to go slow in order to observe every possible trap the Autobots could've set up in the area. The ground was devoid of grass, but the larger trees remained standing. The white foliage of the trees looked soft and pretty. If he wasn't on a mission Warpath might've stopped to admire them.

Warpath crouched as he walked to assess the area from a lower vantage point. If there were any large Autobots guarding the area he didn't want to be seen. He turned every way he could to search for enemies or traps, but he saw nothing.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Warpath saw the bunker. It was only a few mechano-meters away, and there was only one Autobot standing nearby. Warpath crouched low to spy on his enemy, and saw just what an unimpressive specimen they had guarding their most precious resource.

The Autobot was cerulean blue, and a minibot like Warpath. He looked like he turned into a flimsy car-former, and his optics were covered by a grey visor that was likely there to keep the guard's expression from showing what he was feeling. Warpath wondered if this Autobot would terminate himself rather than be captured. The blasted guard wasn't even looking at the road, but rather staring at a tree and making weird whistling noises.

Warpath smirked. His superior said he wasn't allowed to take the bunker, but he didn't say anything about taking an Autobot prisoner. That miniature blue scrap pile was coming with Warpath, and the Decepticons were going to force him to divulge the deadly traps in the area by any means necessary.

The tank-former got up out of his hunched over position and started running toward the Autobot with his cannon nozzle aimed right for the other minibot's spark chamber! The Autobot looked shocked to see a Decepticon even through the grey visor, and he lifted up his arms in surrender. Warpath stopped and straightened up in a dominating pose.

"Give yourself up Autobot, or you'll be BAM blasted into scrap metal!" Warpath shouted threateningly as he started to walk closer to the Autobot.

"Stay back, mech!" The Autobot yelled desperately.

"You're in no position to ZOW make demands of me, Autobot!" Warpath barked curtly.

"No seriously Deceptidude, don't move!" The Autobot held up his hands as if trying to physically hold Warpath back.

The Autobot then grabbed a small rock and threw it in Warpath's direction. Warpath laughed haughtily at how pathetic the Autobot's meager attack was, but stopped laughing when the rock landed near his pedes...and exploded on impact with the ground!

"What the-?" Warpath sputtered in shock.

"That's what I was tryin' to tell you," The Autobot explained, "This whole area is covered in land mines. One wrong step and you'll be one with the matrix."

"Well then what are you WHAM doing out here?" Warpath challenged.

"My visor has an advanced sensor array that allows me to see the mines," The Autobot informed him, "I'm in no danger out here, but you are. Don't move. I'm comin' over, and I'm gonna help you get out of the mine field."

"Yeah, right!" Warpath scoffed, "Like I'm really going to trust a FRAG Autobot!"

The Autobot was undeterred, however. He walked and scuttled around the mines until he was right next to Warpath. The Decepticon tank scowled at the Autobot car, but the Autobot just smiled serenely and gently took Warpath by the arm. Despite his misgivings, Warpath didn't want to die because of a false step. So, against his better judgment, he allowed the Autobot to guide him like a Sparky Scout helping a little old femme cross the street.

The Autobot took him several mechano-meters into the lush forest. Finally, when they were both sure there were no more mines, the Autobot let go of Warpath's arm.

"Hey Autobot, why did you BOOM help me out back there?" Warpath asked in utter befuddlement, "We're sworn enemies!"

"Are we?" The Autobot asked sagely, "We are both children of Cybertron, being hosted by an alien world and all it has to offer. We both have sparks, we both have energon, and we both have optics to observe the beauty of the universe with. Why do we need to harm one another? Didn't our cooperation accomplish more than our fighting?"

"You're not making any sense!" Warpath shouted accusingly, "Also, what kind of guard allows an enemy to get that close to their major source of food and medicine?"

"Guard?" The Autobot asked; confused, "The land mines are the only guard we have. I was just out here to visit my friends."

"Friends? You were POW by yourself!" Warpath pointed out suspiciously.

"No I wasn't," The Autobot contested, "Do you want to meet my friends?"

Warpath quirked an optic ridge. This Autobot had to be messing with him. Not only did he save Warpath's life, but was acting as if this were a garden party instead of a war zone! Nothing this Autobot said or did made any sense.

The Autobot looked up at the trees, and then began to whistle. Warpath had heard him whistle like that before, but didn't know what it meant. After a moment or two he saw what was happening, but hardly believed it. A flock of native birds came flying into the trees and whistling back at the Autobot! Warpath could almost swear the Autobot was having a conversation with them, but that didn't make any sense. They were just dumb animals.

"Hey Decepti-brother," The Autobot turned to Warpath after a minute of whistling to birds, "Fweefwee here wants to know if she can perch on your cannon. Should I tell her no, or is it cool?"

"Uh…" Warpath was a little too stunned to answer at first. How did he go from trying to capture an Autobot to hanging out with the bird-bot of Topitron?

"Um...It's okay, I guess," Warpath finally relented.

The Autobot gave him a warm smile and then called the bird over to Warpath. He chuckled a little at how much the bird's talons tickled his cannon as it got situated, but then felt himself stiffen up a little to prevent the beautiful creature from flying away.

"So, you can really talk to birds?" Warpath asked in amazement.

"Sure. I can talk to anything," The Autobot smiled, "My sigma ability is the gift of gab. I can learn any language after only hearin' a few words spoken. I've even talked to plants on certain planets. It gives you a whole new perspective on life when you can see another being's side of things. Makes you reevaluate your priorities. You got a sigma ability, my mech?"

"No," Warpath answered honestly, "Not that it matters. I have an inbuilt weapon, so I can kill just as well as anyone who has a sigma ability."

The Autobot sighed sadly and turned away for a moment. When he looked back, Warpath was surprised to see the Autobot actually looked hurt.

"Why do you want to kill so badly?" The Autobot asked miserably, "Hasn't this war dragged on long enough? Hasn't enough energon been spilled? Why are you so afraid of freedom and peace?"

"Freedom?" Warpath spat the word out like a curse, "Your precious Primes don't believe in freedom! Say what you want about Megatron, but at least he's trying to make Cybertron a world free from the caste system the Primes have been forcing down our intakes for untold eons!"

"You got it all wrong, my mech!" The Autobot quickly shouted as he slowly backed away from Warpath, "I'll admit, the old system was definitely that way. That's why I was neutral. I didn't believe in fightin', and I tried to stay out of it for as long as possible. That all changed when the planet I was callin' home was destroyed by Megatron's seeker forces. Nothing was left. Even the glitch mice were terminated! Most mechs could hear each other's screams, but I heard the screams of every mech, femme, sparkling, animal, and insect in the area. Our planet was innocent. We were neutral.

"I would've never joined the old Autobots however, even after all that, but I found out about the new Prime and everything changed. Optimus Prime isn't like Sentenel Prime or any of the others. He believes all sentient beings have a right to life and freedom. He fights for the weak, not just the rich or the strong. The Autobots aren't the enemy you used to know, and I think you could have a place here. What do you say? Wanna join our ragtag team, brother?"

Warpath's red optics went wide in shock. This slagger honestly wanted him to defect? Just like that? It was preposterous!

"No way!" Warpath pushed the Autobot into the mud and stomped off, "I'm not like you! I was built for war, and this is who I am! I'm a BAM Decepticon! You hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you," The Autobot replied solemnly, "You say a war-make is who you are, but is it who you want to be? You can be whatever you want to be. It's your choice, and you have to live with whatever choice you make. Please...Just think about it, and come see me if you change your mind. When I'm not here I'm either on duty or at the petal gardens in the valley. If you wanna talk to me and see another Autobot instead, just ask them for Beachcomber."

"Beachcomber, huh?" Warpath grunted, "My name's Warpath. You know, your name makes a lot of sense. I think names say a lot about a mech."

"Maybe," Beachcomber replied thoughtfully, "Of course, I think a mech's spark is a secret until you get to know them, and appearances can be deceiving."

Warpath snorted derisively and walked away from the blue minibot, but inside he was warring with himself over this new information. The new Prime fought for peace, Megatron no longer fought for peace, and the Autobots might actually do something besides kill him on sight. It was a lot for his troubled processor to take in.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Second Chance

Some time passed after that encounter in the mine field. Warpath had been conflicted for the first few orns after meeting the mysterious Beachcomber, but eventually he managed to distract himself with work and battle drills. Warpath was the SIC of his unit, and if he didn't keep the peace no one would. He had to stay focused on his troops, even if the Decepticon cause itself was starting to look more and more liked a twisted hall of mirrors designed to disorient his thinking.

Warpath was rough on his new cadets, but he wasn't unfair. He worked them to their limits to ensure they were ready in case of Autobot attack. Oil Fire had been impressed by both Warpath surviving the Autobot mission long enough to relay information about the mine field as well as how he handled his mechs. Soon enough, Warpath found himself back in a comfortable routine of online, refuel, work, recharge, repeat.

It was 20 orns later that Oil Fire called a meeting and insisted every Decepticon attend. Warpath sat next to Oil Fire on the podium while the troops sat below them in the conference room and awaited their leader's instruction. Warpath looked sharp and alert even though he was just as confused as the rest of the troops. It wouldn't pay to look like he didn't know what Oil Fire was planning. The troops needed to think of him as intelligent and commanding if he was going to avoid getting into fights with them.

"My fellow Decepticons, all hail Megatron!" Oil Fire greeted them magnanimously as he stood from his seat and looked over the crowd, "The Autobot scum has finally made a move against us. They are currently scouting our southern border in an attempt to find our weakest point. Girth has sent them a false information packet telling them that our weakest point is at grid 33F by 42A. As you know, this is our obstacle course. Prepare yourselves! We have less than a joor before they arrive, and we must be ready to strike them down! Glory to the Decepticons!"

"Hail! Hail!" The crowd cheered after him as they stood.

Warpath got up from his seat and followed Oil Fire to the armory. His face mask hid his emotions well, and his optics told no tales. He was a blank wall, a sparkless killing machine for the Decepticon cause. At least, that was the impression given as he smartly strolled down the halls with his commander. Inside he felt torn, but he knew it was pointless to dive too far into those feelings. His place was with his Decepticon brethren. He had no business with the Autobots and he knew it.

The Autobots never saw it coming. The Decepticons had hidden in various places in the obstacle course like guests at a surprise party. Only instead of shouts and a warm greeting the Autobots were met with gunfire and slaughter.

Warpath ran and shot as he tried to work his way from one side of the gated field to the other. He didn't even know where he was going. His job was to find Autobot targets and kill them. That's all they wanted from him, and that was all he could do.

Mechs and femmes with red sigils ran as fast as they could to escape the raging tank. They couldn't even transform into vehicle mode because of the mud from the previous rain, and the seekers were picking them off one by one.

Warpath looked around to see where he should go next, and he saw a hole that had been recently dug in the middle of the field. Decepticons wouldn't bother with such maneuvers since over half of them could fly. This had to be an Autobot hole. Warpath nodded to himself and went right for the poorly concealed hiding place.

He dove in and aimed his cannon at the first moving thing he saw, a pair of Autobots, but paused when he saw exactly who it was.

There was a red and white minibot there, injured, and a blue and grey minibot holding him and looking at Warpath in pure terror. That blue minibot was Beachcomber, and hard as Warpath tried to forget him in the past stellar-cycle, the conflict in his processor still came rushing back when he saw the small helpless Autobot.

"Please, mech. Don't shoot," Beachcomber pleaded; his voice shaky, "Strider's hurt. Please...Just let me repair him. I promise you I haven't fired a single shot. You don't need to do this. Please, brother."

"You don't BANG remember me, do you?" Warpath asked; contemplative.

Beachcomber adjusted his visor to get a better look at the Decepticon, and only then did he see the reddish-brown mini-tank from the mine field.

"It's you!" Beachcomber shouted amid the chaos of shot being fired over their helms, "Thank the matrix! Please, help me get Strider to safety. I'll surrender to you after we get him to our medic, but I just need you to…to…"

Beachcomber broke down as he hugged the unconscious frame of his companion; the purple energon still leaking from Strider's wounds. Warpath didn't know what to do. He couldn't move. He couldn't think clearly. If he helped this Autobot he was a traitor to his cause, and he could kiss his entire life's work goodbye. On the other servo, if he shot them down or left them to rot he would never forgive himself. He already had trouble recharging at night from everything he had ever done. The faces of his victims haunted his dreams. He didn't want Beachcomber's sad yet accepting face to be among them.

Warpath grabbed both of them and flung them out of the hole, Beachcomber yelping in surprise before landing on his aft with a thud. Warpath clawed his way out of the hole and then transformed into his tank mode. He opened the top of his tank mode for them.

"Throw the wounded mech inside and then BAM follow me!" Warpath ordered curtly.

Beachcomber nodded and carefully placed Strider inside Warpath's alt. Together they ran for the other side of the obstacle course. Warpath knew at least a few of his comrades were staring at him. He knew they knew what he was doing. He was a traitor, and he would probably be shot down with Beachcomber and Strider, but oddly enough he wasn't afraid. For the first time since the war began he felt free.

Beachcomber pointed to a red and yellow Autobot that had already transformed into a cargo truck.

"Head for Firestar! She'll get us back to base!" Beachcomber shouted hurriedly as he ran faster to get to their awaiting savior.

Warpath couldn't drive any faster in this mud. He knew he was slowing them down, so he tilted over and deposited Strider on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Beachcomber asked worriedly.

"Take him and go!" Warpath commanded, "I'm just ZOWEE getting in the way! Go!"

Beachcomber grabbed Strider and hurried to get him into Firestar. Warpath watched as the blue minibot came running back toward him, and mentally slapped himself for not making it clearer that he wasn't going with them.

"Turn around, you slagger!" Warpath yelled at Beachcomber, "I'm not coming with you and your BLAST stupid team!"

"But you belong with us. I can see it," Beachcomber said softly, and Warpath had to strain his audio sensors in order to hear it, "I saw it that first orn, too. You're a good mech, and those Decepti-bummers don't deserve you."

Warpath's optics softened at the compliment. He had never felt wanted by anyone other than Air Warrior before. It was so tempting to go with the Autobots. To beg for a second chance and start over, but he wouldn't do it. He was in too deep, and Warpath felt deep down that there wasn't enough goodness left in him to know right from wrong anymore. He had tried so hard to not lose himself, but in the end he still felt lost.

His thoughts came to a crashing halt when he saw Beachcomber's face contort in a terrified gasp. It seemed to happen in slow motion. He turned around. He saw one of his troops aim his gun at Beachcomber. He dove for Beachcomber and tackled him to the ground. He felt the searing heat of the weapon discharging into his frame. Then he felt nothing. Only blackness.

Warpath awoke feeling heavy and groggy, but surprisingly he was in no pain. When he normally passed out he usually awoke in tremendous pain, but not today. He onlined his optics to find himself looking above his helm at a bright window with natural light from the planet coming through. He looked at the room, and saw that he was in a medical ward with lots of occupied beds only separated by thin fabric curtains. It looked very primitive, even more primitive than the current Decepticon medbay.

Decepticons...Autobots...Oh no.

That was when Warpath remembered what happened. He had been shot by one of his own mechs saving the life of an Autobot. At least he hoped he saved him. That Beachcomber was odd, but he was such a genuine mech and seemed to really care about what happened to Warpath. Not even his own team felt that way about him. Beachcomber looked at him without fear or hatred. Warpath had almost forgotten what that felt like.

That did not lessen his tension, however. He was in a strange medbay, likely the Autobot medbay, and he was too woozy to help himself. He was defenseless, and he was probably a prisoner of war. If the Decepticons took him back they would execute him for treason. If the Autobots had no use for him they would execute him as an enemy. He didn't have a lot of options.

"Warpath! You're awake!" The happy voice of Beachcomber came through the curtain to his right, and soon Beachcomber was by his berth.

The blue mech looked so openly elated to see him. It was still a strange experience, but not an unwelcome one.

"Hey, Beachcomber," Warpath forced a smile behind his mask for his sort-of-friend, "I see you made it out okay. Hope I wasn't too BOOM heavy when I landed on you. Heh."

"No way, brother. I owe you my life," Beachcomber replied gratefully, "The medic will be back here shortly. You were lucky, Warpath. That shot barely missed your spark chamber. If we hadn't had a medic as good as Moonracer then you probably would've died on the operating table."

"Moonracer?" Warpath asked; intrigued, "So you're medic is a femme? Is she a shuttle? Most femmes with that name are shuttles."

"No, she's a lightly built car-former," Beachcomber replied, "She's pretty tough though despite the build. Like I always say, you never really know someone until you know them. Try to stay on her good side though. She acted really weird when I brought you in. I think she just didn't expect a Decepticon."

"Am I a POW...P.O.W?" Warpath asked with trepidation.

"That's up to you," Beachcomber replied, "Of course, if you wanna join the Autobots, I'll vouch for you. Strider will, too."

"He survived?" Warpath asked; surprised, "But he was pretty WHAM beat up."

"I know," Beachcomber said with a confident smile, "Moonracer is just that good."

Just then a set of light footsteps could be heard coming closer, and Beachcomber looked over the curtain and smiled wide when he saw who it was.

"Speaking of the best medic on Topitron," Beachcomber said amiably as Moonracer came into view, "I was just checking in on our patient. He's online now."

"I can see that," Moonracer said drolly and turned to face Warpath.

Warpath just stared at her, and couldn't stop staring. He knew this femme! The memory came back to him in a flash, as clear as if it were last orn!

"Fallout!" Warpath exclaimed.

"Whuh?" Beachcomber asked obliviously.

Moonracer, however, knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Yeah, Fallout. That was one of my aliases during the early days of the war," Moonracer replied wistfully, "I haven't heard that name in vorns. I'm surprised you even remember me."

"It's hard to forget the only femme that flirts with you in your entire ZOOM life," Warpath replied bitterly, "I remember I was pretty overcharged that night. And many nights since, honestly."

"Well, I remember you," Moonracer replied soberly, "You spared my life when you had me at your mercy. Beachcomber tells me you saved his life out there, and Strider's as well. You know for a 'Con, you're alright."

"Yeah, well I still don't like you," Warpath told her, "But thanks for BLOOEY saving my spark. I'll find a way to repay you."

"You don't have to repay me. That's my job," Moonracer replied with a smirk, "So I'm really the only femme that ever flirted with you?"

"Yeah. I don't ZOW play well with others," Warpath groused.

Moonracer smiled wanly, shook her helm at him, and walked away. Beachcomber didn't fully understand what had just happened, but he understood that these two had a history. Strider was not going to like this. Then again, Strider had cheated on Moonracer before, so maybe this wouldn't be an issue.

Warpath sighed and looked at Beachcomber with tired red optics. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he was grateful that for the first time in forever he wasn't facing his problems alone. If the Autobots decided he was useful, then he would stay with them. If they decided to kill him, well...That meant he got to waste Moonracer's time on repairing a dead mech. For some reason, that thought made him smile behind his face mask.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

New Digs

Warpath spent another two orns in recovery in the understaffed and undersupplied Autobot medbay. After careful thought, he decided that he was going to defect to the Autobot cause. He didn't know how much of what Beachcomber said about the new Prime was true, but Warpath knew his life with the Decepticons was over. They knew what he did, and they would never accept him now. His only hope was to join his former enemies and hope they didn't murder him in his recharge cycle. What an end to a long military career!

Beachcomber said he would tell their base's commander, Firestar, that Warpath was switching sides. Beachcomber was sure he could convince their CO to not imprison the tank-former, but Warpath wasn't so sure. He might not have been the most famous Decepticon around, but anyone who knew his reputation would know he was an intimidating mech. Would they really be willing to allow such a mech to live among them in their barracks? Would they feel comfortable having Warpath refuel with them, train with them, and go into battle with them? Would they really trust their lives to this red-optic'ed, mask wearing, cannon toting killing machine?

Warpath was brought out of his thoughts by a medic pulling back the curtain. He looked and saw it was a minibot femme with orange and white paint and two small tires along her back. A motorcycle-former from what Warpath could tell. She looked at him nervously and held a cube in her hand.

"Refuel time, huh?" Warpath asked; trying to sound casual so as not to scare her.

That tactic didn't work. She squeaked and flinched back, but then slowly walked up to his berth again. Warpath thought about her situation. If this had been a Decepticon medbay the Autobot patients would've been strapped down to the berth and only seen by medics holstering weapons. As it was Warpath was free to get up at any moment, and this poor femme was unarmed. It seemed like poor judgment on the Autobots' part, in Warpath's opinion.

"Um, I'll just leave this here for you," The femme said in a timid voice, "Do you need anything else?"

"Naw, I've drank CRASH worse energon before," Warpath replied jovially, trying with all his might to sound friendly, "Before you leave though, I would like your BLAMMO name."

The femme fidgeted under Warpath's scrutiny, but finally said "Well, sir...My name is Donut."

"Donut!?" Warpath couldn't help but laugh a bit too loudly, and the little femme huffed, "Sorry, but...Donut! Haha! That's worse than BLAST my name!"

"I don't know," The femme shrugged, "I think I'd rather be named Donut than Warpath. That's just me though. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients to tend to before Moonracer gets back. Good day, Warpath."

The femme quickly walked off before Warpath could say anything else. He knew why she behaved so coldly toward him, and he didn't mind for once. He was an enemy in the Autobot medbay. He was for the most part recovered, and if he chose to he could do some serious damage to the injured Autobots in this ward. If he wanted to hurt them, then no one would be safe. He didn't want to hurt them though, and that fact surprised him.

He thought about how happy Beachcomber was that Warpath defected, and he thought about saving Strider's life and the way Moonracer finally showed some appreciation for his kindness toward her all those vorns ago. When he thought about those things, he found that he really did want to belong to this group. He wanted to be an Autobot.

It was a joor later that Warpath saw the curtain fold back again, and this time it was Beachcomber coming in with a grin as wide as Iacon.

"Hey buddy, you're in," Beachcomber announced without preamble.

"What do you BAM mean I'm in? In what?" Warpath asked; confused.

"You're one of us, my brother!" Beachcomber exclaimed excitedly, "Firestar approved your defection! You've been granted asylum from your old unit, and you are now legally recognized as an Autobot! Tomorrow you go see Moonracer about changin' your optic color and gettin' your sigil grafted on. You've also been assigned quarters with the rest of us."

"Really? Just like that?" Warpath asked incredulously.

"Just like that," Beachcomber nodded with a big smile on his face, "Oh, and I haven't even told you the best part!"

Warpath quirked an optic ridge, not sure where the blue minibot was going with this.

"I don't know if you know this or not, but there are more Autobots here than there is living space," Beachcomber explained, "So the living quarters are all pretty full."

"How is that ZOOM good news?" Warpath asked skeptically.

"Well Warpath, you're gonna be bunkin' with me and my two roommates! Isn't that great?" Beachcomber asked expectantly.

"Um, yeah...That's WHOOSH great," Warpath replied with a wince in his optics that he tried to pass off as a smile.

Beachcomber might've been happy, but Warpath had his doubts. He had shared his living space before, but never with Autobots. Beachcomber was a nice enough guy, but who knew how he lived behind closed doors? The thing that really had Warpath worried though was the roommates. Two other Autobots that Warpath didn't know, and that didn't know him. Would they shun him for his former affiliation? Would they pull pranks on him, hate him, or try to hurt him? There were too many variables for his comfort.

Despite his insecurities, Warpath didn't let on that he was nervous. Beachcomber took him by the hand and led him to the living quarters of the Autobots. Warpath was surprised that this was an actual building instead of just tents. It reminded him of the storage facilities that the Autobots set land mines around. Warpath counted the number of doors in the hallway and calculated the volume of the building in his processor. He didn't know the exact square footage, but he could tell that these rooms were very small. It didn't seem like four minibots should be able to fit. Wait...

"Um, Beachcomber? Are our roommates minibots like us?" Warpath asked.

"Yup," Beachcomber replied in a chipper tone of voice, "You already met Strider. Our other roommate is a boat-former named Seaspray. Strider can be particular about his stuff, so try not to break anything. Seaspray is a soldier through and through, but he has a good spark. We brought in a cot until we can get you a berth from supply. Don't worry though, I'll take the cot. You can sleep in my berth until you get your own."

"I'm not gonna CRACK take your berth!" Warpath objected, "I'll recharge on the cot."

"No, I insist, you take the berth," Beachcomber argued, "I want you to feel welcome here. No friend of mine has to sleep on a cot if I can help it, and I won't take no for an answer."

"We're friends?" Warpath asked just to make sure, "I mean, we barely know each other, and most mechs don't want to be ZAP friends with me. I'm kinda BOOM weird."

"Who isn't weird?" Beachcomber chuckled, "We are both children of Cybertron. Our sparks are the same no matter what our shells look like. If you want to be my friend, then I am honored to be yours."

Warpath felt a little overwhelmed by Beachcomber's attitude. Did mechs this kind-sparked really exist? How could Beachcomber go through everything he went through and still be this accepting? It didn't make sense.

They made it to their room, number 82-TP, and Beachcomber opened it to see that his roomies were both home. Strider looked at the pair and smirked, which oddly enough made Warpath feel a little better, Seaspray had a battle mask like Warpath's, only without the holes, and his dark blue optics poked out of a shadowy face covered by a goldenrod helm. He looked mysterious, like a water-based ninja, and it made Warpath nervous.

"So Warpath, they finally let you out of the turbo rat nest?" Strider quipped, "Well, I'm glad you came by. Good to see you're alive and kickin'."

"Thank you," Warpath replied uncertainly.

When Warpath heard Strider speak it was kind of unnerving. The little red and white car-former sounded amused even though there was nothing funny going on. The way the minibot swaggered and spoke just screamed "Look at me! I am awesome!". It reminded Warpath a little too much of how Luster sounded when they first met.

"Did the cot come in yet?" Beachcomber asked.

"Not yet," Strider replied, "So, the Decepticon is really our new roommate? It ain't enough that he's puttin' the moves on my femme? Now he has to live here, too?"

"What are you BANG talking about?" Warpath asked.

"Relax, Strider," Beachcomber held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Warpath isn't interested in Moonracer. You have nothin' to worry about, right brother?"

"Uh, sure…" Warpath replied; a little dazed by the odd question, "Um, are you and Moonracer a POW couple?"

"You bet!" Strider replied proudly, "I only go for the best, and Moonracer is definitely the best. I don't know what I was worried about. She would never go for a Decepticon anyway."

"I'm not a FRAG Decepticon anymore!" Warpath replied crossly, "Tomorrow I go in to get my BLAM optics changed, and then I get my sigil! Soon I'll be ZOW as much a part of this team as any of you!"

"Congratulations," Seaspray replied; his voice distorted in a way that made it sound like he was gargling, "We need all the help we can get."

Warpath looked at the yellow and blue boat-former for a moment or two. His speech pattern was difficult to understand, but it still made Warpath smile behind his face mask. He had never met another mech with a speech impediment before, and hearing Seaspray talk somehow made him feel less alone.

"So Warpath, do you have anything to unpack?" Strider asked; all hostility gone from his tone as quickly as it came.

"Not really," Warpath shrugged, "I move around a lot."

"I hear that," Strider nodded empathetically, "Before the war I was a stunt driver. I used to travel all over Cybertron, and even went to a few races on other planets. None as lousy as this one, but each new location was still an experience to remember. I've always loved to travel."

"Me too," Beachcomber replied, "I would make friends wherever I went. I don't think I ever paid for a hotel. I'd just spend a few orns on a new friend's cot or berth, and then when I ran out of stories to tell I'd just move on to the next place. It was a great way to see the universe. I'll admit, I got robbed a few times. One time I ticked off a farmer by tellin' him his animals were gossipin' about him, and he broke my jaw hinge. The dangers might've made my lifestyle seem foolish, but I wouldn't trade those good times for anything."

"I never meant to travel a lot, but it just sort of happened," Seaspray told them, "I was sparked by Vector Sigma to serve as a member of Cybertron's fledgling naval unit. At first I just patrolled the harbors of Gralix, but before long I was transferred to a planet that was mostly water. I went through several transfers before the war, and many more transfers since then. I try not to get too comfortable in one place, because I know I won't be allowed to stay. The one good thing is that most of my posts are near bodies of water or other liquids. No matter where I am, floating on the ocean makes me feel at peace."

"My traveling is because of WHAM transfers, too," Warpath replied sympathetically, "I feel like we could really POP understand each other."

"What's the weirdest thing you've ever seen on an alien planet?" Strider asked Warpath.

"Energon snow," Warpath replied without missing a beat, "Definitely energon snow. It was CLANG beautiful, and it kept me and my unit alive when we were stationed on ZAP Gorr. What about you, Strider?"

"Well, I do remember one time when I was on planet Hedhar," Strider reminisced, "I went to an arena for a race, but the door was locked. Now, this was a strange lookin' door anyway since it looked like a bunch of interwoven hair follicles, but when it wouldn't open I asked my manager what gives, and he said the building was an organic being called a Yoozle, and it wouldn't open its door until I scratched it. Well, I kid you not, I had to tickle the door the get it to open for me! I never went back to race on Hedhar after that. It was just too awkward."

"That sounds like a cool building," Beachcomber commented as he leaned back into the cot, "I haven't seen too many things that surprise me, but I do remember this one time I went to a bar on planet Junk. I ordered a cube of their high grade, and after I drank it I started trippin'. I'm tellin' you, I saw colors I didn't know existed! I've never seen high grade that does that to a mech. I was sick for an orn afterward."

"I remember a Decepticon I fought once that had ten legs," Seaspray told them, "She was also known for making potent high grade. Maybe the Junkions got the recipe from her. Anyone whoever would graft 8 extra legs onto their body can't be too stable."

"I know who you're WHAM talking about!" Warpath exclaimed, "Jawbone! I never met her in person, but from what I hear she's a WHOMP beast!"

"Indeed she was," Seaspray replied somberly, "I don't know how I got out of there alive."

The conversation continued between the four mechs well into the night cycle. They didn't get a lot of recharge that night, but nobody seemed to care. Warpath was grateful things had gone so smoothly. He not only managed to join the Autobots without having them blast him into particles, but he also had three new friends. It was more than he ever expected he would have. He only hoped he could convince the rest of the Autobots that his intentions were good.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

The Past's Road To Now

"Hold still!" Moonracer snapped as she pushed Warpath back down on the medical berth.

Warpath grumbled but did as he was told. She had his faceplate removed and was working on attaching his new optic lenses and new speech lights. Warpath was beginning to wonder if he made a mistake joining the Autobots, and for once it wasn't because of a moral question.

"Why couldn't you BLOOEY just put me under for this?" Warpath groused as he tried to hold still despite the pain she was causing him.

"Because we're on high alert, big guy," Moonracer drawled as she worked the cyber-forceps, "The 'Cons could burst into our camp at any time, and I need as many of my patients as possible to be conscious. Now, hold still. I've still got to get the left optic attached."

"Fine..." Warpath sighed sharply.

Moonracer was an efficient medic, but Warpath thought her berthside manner could use some work. He wasn't just in pain, he was bored out of his processor! He tried to think of a topic of conversation to prevent him from thinking too hard about what she was doing to him. He never did like visiting the medics in his previous assignments, and he didn't like doing it now.

"So, um, Doc...I heard you and Strider are an item," Warpath said awkwardly; hoping to kill a couple breems.

"You could say that," Moonracer replied evasively.

"Okay," Warpath replied awkwardly, "...Do you two go out very often?"

"There's no place to go out," Moonracer snapped, "We do sometimes get together in the mess tent for some energon. Honestly, I don't know why I put up with him. Part of me really likes Strider. I mean, Strider has a way of talking to me that makes me feel like I'm the most beautiful femme in the universe. Sadly, he can also make me feel like a fool when he checks out another femme right in front of me. He's passionate and exciting, but I know when I'm with him that it's all so...temporary. He doesn't want forever, and I used to be okay with that. I guess now that I'm older I want more than fun and high grade. I don't want to feel like an empress at night and then feel like a used oil rag the next morning. I'm tired of that. I'm so tired of having no hope for tomorrow."

"I see..."

Warpath wished he could say something to cheer her up. He wished he had words of wisdom that could change her life, but he didn't. He couldn't even solve his own problems with interpersonal relationships. How could he help someone else?

"Alright. I've got the optics in," Moonracer announced, "Before I put your faceplate back on, I need to run a few reflex tests to make sure everything works properly. Offline your optics twice in rapid succession."

Warpath blinked twice.

"Good, that works just fine," Moonracer said analytically, "Now swivel your optics to the right, and then to the left."

Warpath looked left and right.

"Any pain or difficulty with movement?" Moonracer asked.

"No," Warpath replied.

"Good. Now roll your optics like Strider said something stupid," Moonracer said with a mischievous smirk.

Warpath laughed out loud, causing other patients to stare at them. Warpath couldn't believe it, but he was actually starting to get along with the pastel green car-former. He was sure she was still a jerk, but then again she did get him to fall for her once. Maybe she could be his friend now that they weren’t trying to kill each other.

Finally, Warpath rolled his optics, and they worked perfectly.

"Alright then," Moonracer said; satisfied with the results, "Now I can reattach your face. I see your creator went with a perforated mask. Let me guess, Helex?"

"How did you ZOOM know that's where I was from?" Warpath asked; astonished.

"Because Helex was the city that made holes in battle masks popular," Moonracer told him, "The fad didn't last long because it was impractical in combat, but I always thought they looked cool."

"Thank you," Warpath said, and Moonracer could actually see his smiling mouth circuits without the mask, "So where are you from?"

"Polyhex," Moonracer replied; her tone suddenly cold.

Warpath would've facepalmed if it wouldn't risk damaging himself. He remembered in that moment the night he and Moonracer first met; when she had called herself Fallout. It was shortly after the takeover of Polyhex. She had killed 3 Decepticons before she found him, and it was all in the name of revenge. Her family had been killed by Decepticons in Polyhex, but Warpath was too angry at the council for killing his father to care about what happened to her then.

"Moonracer...I'm POP sorry about what happened to your ZOW parents," Warpath said; miffed that his speech problems lessened the impact of his apology.

"What? You know about that?" Moonracer asked; surprised.

"You told me," Warpath said softly, "When we first BAM met."

"Oh, I guess I did," Moonracer replied sullenly, "It wasn't just my parents though. My little sister was killed as well, and my grandsire. My little brother made it out, but was later captured by the Decepticons. Last I heard he joined them to save his own life. I know I shouldn't hate him, but part of me does. It's like he's just as dead as the rest of my family. Maybe I do hate him."

"Hate can make you do BOOM stupid things," Warpath pointed out, "I once WHAM killed a mech because of hate."

"Only once?" Moonracer asked wryly.

"He killed a sparkling," Warpath spat, "I was so FRAG angry! It was in Praxus. I was part of the SMASH invasion. I found a sparkling that survived, and I wanted to BANG save it. My commander ordered me to kill it, but I WHOOSH just couldn't do it. So he killed it, and I POW killed him for it. I see them both in my BLAM nightmares to this day." Warpath's tension was making his turrets syndrome worse, and he hated it that he interjected so often in front of the medic.

Moonracer finished the last weld on Warpath's faceplate as she listened to his story. At first she was angry at him for admitting to being a part of Praxus's destruction, but seeing the pain and regret in his optics made her realize that Warpath really wasn't evil. Still, there was one thing she needed to know.

"Which one do you regret more?" Moonracer asked pointedly, "Killing a Decepticon that was your friend, or not saving the sparkling?"

"Both," Warpath replied, "And Luster wasn't my friend."

Moonracer then suddenly wrapped her arms around him, careful not to bump into his cannon. Warpath was surprised by the abrupt hug, but after a second or two returned it. He wasn't used to people hugging him, and he didn't know why Moonracer decided to, but he liked it. He just hoped she didn't tell anyone. He didn't feel like hugging Beachcomber like this.

The orns passed in relative peace for Warpath. With his new blue optics and positive attitude he really felt like he was starting over. He spent most of his time with at least one of his roommates. Beachcomber had gotten him interested in rock collecting. As it turned out the blue minibot was a geologist before the war. Warpath never would've pegged him as a scientist, but Beachcomber was actually very smart. He just didn't brag about it to other mechs.

When he wasn't with Beachcomber he was usually with Seaspray or Strider. Seaspray spent a lot of his time at the target range training, so Warpath would go with him and practice his cannon's aim on the cardboard Decepticons. He was kind of surprised when he found a cardboard cutout of himself on the range one orn.

"Wow...It's me," Warpath had commented to Seaspray.

"I'm sorry about that," Seaspray said as he put a servo on Warpath's shoulder, "I'll take it down for you if you want."

"Naw, I wanna shoot it!" Warpath exclaimed enthusiastically.

Seaspray looked at the burgundy tank in confusion. Why would Warpath want to shoot a cardboard replica of himself? Did he hate himself or something? Maybe Warpath was going crazy due to the poor quality of energon lately.

Warpath on the other servo knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't just shooting a facsimile of himself, he was shooting something that represented his old life as a Decepticon. Warpath felt that if anyone deserved to blast that thing into oblivion, then he did. He aimed his cannon at his red-optic'ed reflection, and fired! The pieces of burning cardboard wafted in the air, and Warpath felt a certain giddiness as he caught an ember in the palm of his hand.

Hanging out with Strider turned out to be fun, too. Moonracer was right about the red minibot having a wandering optic when it came to the femmes, but he also knew how to be the life of the party. Warpath had to resist getting overcharged with him though. He didn't tell anyone, but Warpath had been struggling with high grade addiction for vorns, and he was trying to purge his systems of the processor-wiping elixir.

Even without high grade, Warpath and Strider managed to find ways to entertain themselves. Warpath had confessed to Strider that he didn't know how to dance, and the car-former made it his mission to teach him some moves. That had resulted in Strider going to the medbay with damaged pedes (since Warpath wouldn't watch his step), but Warpath was convinced Strider was just using that as an excuse to see Moonracer.

Warpath didn't see much of Moonracer after his new optics were installed. He didn't want to. Well, he wanted to, but he knew he shouldn't. Warpath couldn't deny that he was starting to develop feelings for her, but he didn't want to pursue her if it meant getting in the way of his friendship with Strider. Strider might not have been the picture of fidelity, but he was still Warpath's friend. All this drama was starting to hurt the poor mech's processor.

The Autobots had gone into combat against the Decepticons twice since Warpath joined them. The first time wasn't as tough as Warpath thought it would be. The Decepticon soldiers might be familiar faces, but the Autobots were his true team. The first time they were in combat he noticed that Beachcomber never fired a shot, and nearly got shot himself when he didn't see a sniper in a patch of tall white grass. The second time Warpath didn't leave Beachcomber's side once. It was the same thing he would do to protect Air Warrior when he was still living. Warpath tried to push the comparison out of his mind.

Warpath noticed the more he stayed with the Autobots that Beachcomber was a soft-sparked individual in the truest sense of the word. That made Warpath want to protect him even more. It was hard-wired in Warpath to defend those weaker than him, and in the Autobot ranks he was pleased to find that this behavior was the norm.

On this particular orn the four minibots were at the mess tent getting their ration of low grade energon. The stuff tasted terrible and barely gave them any energy output at all, but it was the best they could do on Topitron at the moment. The Autobots had lost a lot of ground to the Decepticons, and their supplies were dwindling more and more by the orn.

Warpath sat with Seaspray and Strider as they waited for Beachcomber to get through the line and come sit with them. Strider was regaling them with a story about the time he saved a young femme from the elite Decepticon trine all on his own. Warpath was sure it was a load of slag, but he still found it entertaining.

Suddenly, there was a clang! Everyone turned to the source of the noise, only to see Beachcomber's energon was spilled all over a red and blue minibot with a wide helm and a deep scowl on his face plate.

"I'm so sorry, brother!" Beachcomber apologized profusely, "Let me help you clean that off, my mech."

"Get away from me, ya lousy hippie!" The other minibot snapped as he slapped Beachcomber's servo away, "You better watch yourself, or one of these days I'll…"

"You'll what?" Warpath growled low as he stood from his seat and stormed over to the challenger.

Warpath's faceplate gave off a threatening white glow. He didn't like it when others tried to bully his friends. Beachcomber had only accidentally bumped into this mech, and if the red and blue troublemaker wanted his pound of steel, he'd have to go through Warpath.

"Hey, hey, keep your transistors on, Decepticon!" The other minibot hissed as he held his hands up in mock-surrender, "I don't wanna start nothin' with ya. Okay? Alright then, just don't let it happen again Beachbum."

"What did you just BANG call him!?" Warpath barked harshly as he grabbed the other mech by the scruff bar, "I've just about BOOM had it with your attitude!"

By now other Autobots were watching the scene in shock. They weren't sure what to do. By all accounts Warpath was reformed, but now they wondered if he would actually harm or kill their other teammate. No one wanted to break up the fight, though. None of the mechs in the mess tent at the moment were that powerful, and Warpath had a reputation as a shoot-first kind of mech.

"Warpath, stop!" Beachcomber exclaimed as he physically pushed himself between the offending mech and Warpath's grip, "Don't do it, mech. You've come so far. Gears isn't worth it. Just let him go, brother. Just let him go."

Warpath looked at the trepidation in Beachcomber's optics and felt awful about what he almost did. He was about to pound that other minibot into scrap metal. If it wasn't for Beachcomber, then Warpath could've blown his one chance to get away from the Decepticon way of life for good.

"Beachcomber, you should be a KABLAM hostage negotiator," Warpath said with a wink of his optic.

Beachcomber laughed and joined Warpath at the table with their friends. Warpath shared his cube with Beachcomber since the cart-former didn't have any rations of his own.

"I can't believe you dumped your lunch on Gears," Strider said with a smirk, "That was hilarious! Honestly, I kinda wanted to see Warpath and Gears fight. My money would be on Warpath of course. Tank beats tiny truck any day!"

"You are so immature," Seaspray shook his helm in a long-suffering manner, "This unit has enough problems without infighting being added to the list."

"I'm sorry about that, guys," Warpath said to the others, "I thought he was gonna POW hurt Beachcomber. I was just trying to WHAM protect him."

"I understand, Warpath," Beachcomber said amiably, "I'll be okay though. These are our teammates. They won't harm us. Now, you promised to show me that igneous rock you found near the hydrogen-rich river."

Warpath beamed and took the rough stone out of his subspace. He was grateful that his friends were so forgiving. He hated it that he couldn't control himself better than that, but he promised himself he would learn. For the sake of his new friends, he would work hard to be a better mech.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Choices Made

Warpath awoke to find that Beachcomber was already gone, Seaspray was doing push-ups, and Strider was snoring in his recharge.

"Shouldn't we BLAM wake him up?" Warpath asked as he pointed to Strider.

"What's the point?" Seaspray grunted as he continued his exercises, "He'll just get all grumpy and then go back to sleep. By the way, our physicals are today. You should probably run a self diagnostic before going in to see Moonracer."

"Moonracer is giving the WHAM physicals?" Warpath asked nervously, "But I don't want her to POW see me without my armor!"

"What are you, a prude?" Seaspray asked, "Just do it. We need to be at the top of our game to stop those Decepticons. That's why I'm working out all the kinks before I go in. Don't want to get stuck with a desk job."

"Fine. I'll just go now and ZOOM get it over with," Warpath decided, "Hey, you wanna KLIK draw a funny face on Strider while he's asleep?"

"No," Seaspray replied curtly as he switched to jogging in place.

"You're no fun!" Warpath groused.

Seaspray then tripped over his large blue feet and fell on his face plate, and Warpath had a hearty laugh at Seaspray's expense as he walked out of the room. Seaspray glared at the open doorway, but Warpath had already left.

Warpath walked down the hall to where he would have to get his physical. He saw Beachcomber coming back and stopped to say hello.

"Hey Beachcomber! Did you ZAP get your physical out of the way?" Warpath asked.

"Sure did," Beachcomber nodded and smiled, "That Moonracer is one skilled medic. She says I need to lay off the copper candies though. That's a real bummer."

"Well, at least you're not BOOM sick," Warpath pointed out.

"Yeah, and I finally got my donor card," Beachcomber said proudly as he held up a laminated white card with an Autobot red face on it.

"Your what?" Warpath asked cluelessly.

"My donor card," Beachcomber repeated goodnaturedly, "It makes me feel like a real mech to know that any sacrifice I make will not be in vain. This card states that if I die on the battlefield, or anywhere else for that matter, I posthumously give my permission to use every part of me to help other injured mechs. I'm now officially a parts donor!"

"Parts donor?" Warpath asked incredulously, "You mean...Autobots get a choice?"

"Sure. What kind of lowlife would rip apart a corpse without the consent of the deceased or the family?" Beachcomber asked rhetorically, but Warpath had an answer.

"Decepticons, that's who," Warpath replied with disdain, "I remember when BLOOEY Air Warrior died. He was my best friend, and I just wanted to WHAM see him. He had been gutted...stripped of all but a few spare parts. There wasn't FRAG enough there to tell it was even a Cybertronian, let alone a seeker! I've seen it happen a lot more times since then. Decepticons that die out in the field are considered BANG disposable."

"That's awful, mech," Beachcomber said quietly, a little shocked by what he had heard, "I know you've got to get to your physical, but when you get back we can talk. I'd like to hear more about Air Warrior. If he was your best friend he couldn't have been too bad. See you around, Warpath."

Warpath went on his way to get his physical, and all the while debated with himself whether or not he wanted to donate his parts after he died. He just assumed he wouldn't get a choice. Fear of what would happen when he died was part of what kept him alive for so long. He didn't understand how Beachcomber could feel so happy with the idea of those vultures scrapping him for parts when he died, but then again maybe he did understand. Warpath knew the kind of mech Beachcomber was, and knew he would find great satisfaction in thinking he could give someone something even from beyond the grave. Warpath didn't think he could ever be that selfless.

Moonracer was just finishing up with Warpath's physical. So far she hadn't found anything unusual. He was grateful for that since he didn't want to be transferred to an easier unit. He would be devastated if he got transferred and had to leave his new friends behind, and that fact alone surprised him. He had friends, not just one friend but three! Four if he included Moonracer.

The final touches of the physical was suddenly interrupted when Firestar opened a public comm channel and told everyone to clear the medbay for wounded. Moonracer grabbed Warpath's servo and dragged him over to the far wall, and he felt himself heat up at her close proximity and forward manner toward him.

Get a hold of yourself, Warpath! Warpath chided himself in his mind. She's dating your friend! You can't feel this way! Oh, but she smells like fresh transmission fluid… No! Stop that! Just stop it!

While Warpath debated with himself Moonracer went to talk to Firestar. Firestar looked worried, but also a little excited. It was very confusing for the medical staff to say the least.

"Are you okay, Commander?" Donut asked from in front of a patient with a severed arm.

"I'm fine," Firestar said as she ran a servo over her faceplate, "The wounded are from another world that had to be evacuated. Well, technically a moon. It's Inferno's group, and they're all coming here! I haven't seen Inferno since we parted ways back on Cybertron."

"Who's Inferno?" Moonracer asked, "Is he an old boyfriend?"

"Current boyfriend, actually," Firestar corrected her, "Though we haven't seen each other in forever. I hope being in command hasn't made me look too harsh."

"Not at all. You look great," Moonracer replied, "Just wipe the mud off your pedes and you'll look like new."

"I don't have time for that!" Firestar snapped, but then in a gentler voice said, "I'm sorry Moonracer, but we have wounded coming and I can't afford to worry about my looks like some youngling swooning over a crush."

"I understand," Moonracer replied as she placed a comforting hand on Firestar's shoulder guard, "Alright everyone, listen up!" Moonracer then yelled out into the room, "Donut, clear out any patients that aren't priority 2 or above! Steam Heat, sterilize the berths! Windcharger, organize my tools! Warpath, as long as you're here find some medical grade energon and stack it on that table. Move it everyone, we don't have all orn!"

Warpath was surprised to be given an order to do something in the medbay, but he wasn't about to argue. He ducked down and searched cabinets until he found what he was looking for. He would have to be careful with their medical grade energon. It was very hard to come by since the Decepticons had taken over two thirds of Topitron, and if he dropped any it could cost lives.

He placed the cubes gently on the table one by one. He was holding the last one when he heard a scream and dropped it! He gasped, fearing he had broken the cube, but a tool tray floated over just in time to catch it and keep it from falling to the floor.

Warpath just stared at the unlikely levitating tray, but then he saw Windcharger, one of the orderlies, controlling the tray with his hand. He carefully placed the tray on an empty berth, and Warpath grabbed the cube and stacked it where it supposed to go. He waved at Windcharger, and Windcharger nodded in a friendly way before going back to work.

Warpath knew about sigma abilities, and even knew magnetic manipulation was a possibility, but he had never met anyone who could actually do it. This Windcharger guy was such a game-breaker that Warpath wondered why he spent all his time in the medbay.

Inferno's crew finally showed up. There were dozens of wounded Autobots, some in critical condition, and Moonracer ran around the medbay like a fly trying to figure out where to land. Warpath stood back and looked for an exit, but everything was so crowded by now that he didn't know if he could leave the medbay just yet.

"You!" A large red black and white truck-former grabbed Warpath, "You, are you a medic?"

"No sir," Warpath replied, "I'm just a BAM soldier."

"I need a medic!" The larger 'Bot insisted, "My best friend is bleeding out pretty bad. I patched him up as far as I could get, but he needs to be opened up."

"Follow me," Warpath commanded, "I'm pretty sure I saw where Moonracer went."

"Thanks," The truck-former replied gratefully, "By the way, my name's Inferno. What's yours?"

"You're the commander?" Warpath asked; impressed, "My name is...Warpath." Warpath said it slowly in hopes of not triggering his turrets syndrome when he spoke.

Warpath heard Inferno say some more pleasantries, but he wasn't really listening. He needed to find a medic for the moon commander's friend or he wouldn't make it. He had to find Moonracer! He saw her tending to a blue and white Autobot with scratches and shrapnel all over his body. It looked like something he could handle.

"Moonracer," Warpath tapped her lightly on her back.

"Not now, I have more patients than I have patience!" Moonracer snapped, "What do you want?"

"Inferno's ZORG best friend is hurt," Warpath informed her, "I'll help this guy if you BOOM tend to him."

"You want a patient?" Moonracer asked dryly, "You're not a medic."

"I know, but I've seen these WHAM types of wounds in the field," Warpath explained, "I can fix this, but Inferno's friend is way worse off!"

"Fine, just this one patient," Moonracer said; a warning clear in her sharp tone, "You better not make me regret this."

"I won't! I promise!" Warpath vowed, and then he quickly switched places with Moonracer.

She ran past operating assistants to get to Inferno and the mech she could tell was Red Alert. He looked like he was already dead, but she knew he wasn't due to the color still being in his frame. He wouldn't last long without help though, so she took him off Inferno's hands and got to work.

Warpath, meanwhile, was cleaning energon off the frame of his patient to determine if there were any leaks. He found one near the shoulder strut and applied a hot liquid that merged with the tubing to repair the damage. He then began bending and soldering the plating back together. The mech woke up and grunted in pain, but Warpath ignored him and kept repairing damage.

"Hey, stop!" The patient moaned, "That hurts!"

"Of course it hurts," Warpath replied without sympathy, "You just got CLANG hit with more flying metal pieces than a bartender during happy joor! You'll be fine."

"I don't recognize you," The patient said warily, "Where am I?"

"Topitron," Warpath replied simply.

"Isn't Topitron mostly populated by Decepticons?" The patient asked in alarm, "Am I a prisoner?"

"No, you're in an Autobot medbay," Warpath replied as he continued to work; grateful the conversation was keeping the patient's mind off the surgery, "So, what's your POP name?"

"Mirage," The patient replied, "What is your designation?"

"Warpath," replied the titular tank.

"Warpath!?" Mirage exclaimed as he tried to get off the table, only to have Warpath push him back down, "But you're…! You're a Decepticon!"

"Former Decepticon," Warpath corrected him, "I defected."

"Oh, that's good," Mirage replied; accepting the former 'Con's story, "What made you change sides?"

"Hm…" Warpath thought about it. The question was harder to answer than he would've thought, but finally he said "I didn't like myself. I was just a KAPOW tool for a cause I never really believed in. I was just...tired. Things are a lot WHOOSH better now. I like it here. I feel like I SLAG belong here."

Mirage smiled as he layed back down for the now-Autobot to operate on him. Warpath felt another small victory at being able to help Moonracer and help mechs like his patient. He was accepted here, and that mattered more to him than any amount of power he could've ever hoped to gain with the Decepticons.

It was 5 joors later before everything calmed down. Warpath sat on a bench outside the medbay and heaved a sigh of relief since he was finally able to get off his pedes. He had been in the medbay that entire time handing people tools and searching for supplies. He didn't get to operate on any more patients, but he was grateful that his minor maintenance on Mirage went well.

Donut came into the hall to sit as well, and Warpath was surprised when the timid femme sat down right next to him. That was yet another bit of proof to Warpath that he was finally starting to be considered a member of the team.

"Excuse me, Warpath?" Donut's voice was very soft as she spoke, "Inferno says that Red Alert is awake now. Moonracer was able to save him. I heard you operated on that tower mech they brought in. I'm surprised you knew what to do."

"Well, I'm not a BANG expert, but- wait. Did you say WHOMP tower mech?" Warpath asked incredulously.

"Yes," Donut nodded shakily, unwilling to look at Warpath, "I know military vehicles don't like tower mechs too much, but Mirage seems like a nice guy. I hope you don't hold his privileged upbringing against him."

"Naw," Warpath waved away her concern, "I'll admit I'm a little SLAM surprised, but if I judged him based on what he was born as, I'd be a FRAG hypocrite. I wouldn't want you guys to BOOM judge me based on what I used to be."

"That's a good point," Donut said with a small smile, "I'd better get up now. I have to take Red Alert his energon."

"I'll do it for you," Warpath offered as he stood up and took the cube from her, "I want to see Red Alert anyway."

Donut smiled and waved timidly at Warpath as he walked away. He still made her a little nervous, but she was starting to see that he wasn't trying to hurt them. Many had wondered if Warpath was a spy, but she didn't think he was. Frankly, she didn't think he could keep quiet about it for that long. Warpath might not have been the most adept when it came to social graces, but one thing about him, he sure loved to talk.

Warpath pulled back the curtain to see that Red Alert already had two visitors; Inferno and Moonracer. She was reading his vital monitor, and Inferno was telling Red Alert what happened to him now that he was awake.

"Hey guys," Warpath announced himself with a quieter voice than he usually used, "I brought our patient some BLAST energon."

Moonracer and Inferno smiled at their new visitor, but when Red Alert saw Warpath his optics grew wide and he screamed in fear! Red Alert tried to get off the berth, but Moonracer and Inferno held him in place.

"Red, buddy, what's the matter?" Inferno asked soothingly, "Are you having another flashback?"

"No, I think my flashback is having me!" Red Alert screamed incomprehensibly as he struggled to get away, "Let me go! He's a Decepticon! He'll kill us!"

"No, you ZOOM misunderstand!" Warpath tried to explain over the shrieking and flailing of the patient, "I'm not a BAM Decepticon anymore! I've changed, and I left the Decepticons! You'll rip open your CRACK wounds again! Be careful!"

Red Alert stopped fighting and looked at Warpath with intense scrutiny. He stared so hard Warpath was actually starting to feel a little uncomfortable with the attention. He didn't protest though since he didn't want to make the unstable mech feel threatened. Inferno and Moonracer shared a look, both confused as to what was going on.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Red Alert finally asked Warpath.

"Remember you? No, I, uh, don't," Warpath stammered.

"I can see why," Red Alert said, much calmer now than a few moments prior, "I wasn't very old then. Still a sparkling, actually. You cornered me in an energon warehouse on a planet called Gorr. My father and I were living there during the drought months when there was no snow. You had to be one of the scariest things I had ever seen at that time. I remember your optics and mask lights were red then. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you became an Autobot. I've never met another Decepticon that would spare the life of an enemy sparkling. I guess I didn't keep my promise though," He added with a slight nervous chuckle.

"What promise?" Warpath asked; having forgotten most of this incident.

"I promised that if you let me live you would never see me again," Red Alert said with a wry smile on his face plate, "I guess I was wrong. Sorry."

"Don't be," Warpath replied, "I'm just glad that you're KABOOM okay. So, is your father still alive?"

"Sadly, no," Red Alert replied solemnly, "He was killed when we were at a shuttle port trying to get a ride off a planet called Tylaria 6. A Decepticon named Sixshot got him. Warpath...are you going to betray us?"

"No," Warpath replied immediately, "I'm right where I BLAM belong."

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Welcome to Iacon

Warpath had spent 5 vorns on Topitron as an Autobot. Over time he had gained the trust of every mech and femme in the camp. The more socially included Warpath felt, the more his real pre-Decepticon personality began to shine once more. He started telling jokes and going to parties. He laughed more. He grew even closer to his minibot friends and protected them with everything he had on the battlefield.

Some parts of Warpath's personality would never be what they once were, however. He still enjoyed fighting the enemy way too much, and he was still very guarded when it came to romantic intimacy. The more he got to know Moonracer the more he realized he loved her, but he never said anything. Moonracer and Strider would break up, and then they would get back together again. It was a vicious cycle, and one that Warpath could've easily exploited. He wanted to tell Moonracer how he felt, but even when Strider wasn't dating her Warpath still couldn't work up his nerve. So he just tried to be content with admiring her from afar.

Not all was well with the Totitron team, however. They had lost many good friends to the Decepticons, and the Decepticons had taken over most of the planet. Seaspray was especially hurt when Donut had been killed during a siege on one of their camps. She hadn't even fought back, but they killed her anyway. Seaspray and Donut were dating at the time, and he took her death very hard. At this point they had nowhere above ground to hide, so their latest camp was in a cave.

The good news was that they had managed to send Red Alert and a shuttle named Steam Heat out to search for an Autobot base that was close by. Hopefully the remaining Autobots would be able to abandon the planet without suffering any more casualties.

Inferno was beside himself the entire time they were gone; sure that his young friend would be shot dead by a Decepticon soldier. Red Alert was just a youngling at this point, a teenager, and Inferno thought of himself as a big brother to the young mech. He didn't know what he would do if he lost Red Alert.

Fortunately his fears were unfounded. Red Alert and Steam Heat returned with wonderful news. They had managed to contact Optimus Prime on Cybertron!

"You're kidding," Firestar drawled skeptically. 

"I'm telling you, it's true!" Red Alert shouted vehemently, "He says he wants our entire unit to join him on Cybertron. He says he's recalling as many forces as possible for a big project that could save us all!"

"That...actually doesn't sound too good," Firestar replied after thinking it over, "If the Prime wants us all together, then that means there aren't enough Autobots left to defend our outer territories. It means Megatron is winning."

Those words deflated the Autobots in the cave, but they couldn't exactly refute them. The signs were all there. The Decepticon numbers were growing, the Decepticons all looked energized while the Autobots practically starved, and their enemy was growing more aggressive with each passing orn. If the Autobots wanted to survive, they needed numbers on their side.

"Start packing," Firestar finally said to her mechs, "We're going to Cybertron."

A few Autobots smiled, and some even hugged one another, but no one was willing to cheer. They feared if they made too much noise they would be discovered, and now the group actually had something to look forward to.

The trip to Cybertron was a time of celebration for the Autobots. Steam Heat flew through space at a steady pace, and the crew was so excited to be free of the oppressive atmosphere of Topitron. Even though everyone had to ration their energon carefully, many decided to drink it at the exact same time so it would feel more like a party.

Not everyone was celebrating, however. Warpath was tense, and was beginning to wonder if going back to Cybertron was a mistake. He knew he was an Autobot now, and he knew he would give his life for any one of his friends, but this was different. He would meet Optimus Prime for the first time, and he wasn't exactly thrilled about it. The Primes of the past caused this war by the way they treated the people. No matter what the others said about Optimus Prime, how could Warpath ever trust him? How could he ever obey him?

Steam Heat landed deep in the center of Iacon on a road that hadn't been travelled on in vorns. The coordinates told them that Prime's unit was 15 mechano-miles away, but they couldn't afford to land too close in case the Decepticons were watching them as they touched down.

"Alright team, here's the plan," Firestar said quietly as they stood at the threshold of Steam Heat's exit, "Inferno and I will leave first. Two breems later, the racers leave. Two breems after that, the minibots leave. Two breems after that, the femmes and construction-formers leave. We can't leave together because it would be too obvious a target. If only a few of us move at a time then we'll at least have a shot of some of us making it to the checkpoint. Does everyone understand?"

Everyone nodded in unison, and Firestar smiled at her friends. She knew it was a long shot, but she really hoped all of them survived without being detected by the Decepticons. She took Inferno's hand, and soon they were gone. The others only had a few moments before the next group would need to leave.

"You gonna be okay, Mirage?" Windcharger asked.

"Certainly," Mirage replied, "I only wish I could make everyone invisible instead of just myself. What about you guys?"

"We'll be okay," Windcharger replied jovially, "Actually, there's more minibots in this group than any other type of mech. There's me, Gears, Beachcomber, Warpath, Seaspray, and Strider. Sadly, I'm the only one with a sigma ability, but we'll be okay. We're all good fighters...Well, except for Beachcomber."

"Hey, lay off him!" Warpath snapped irritably, "Beachcomber's a thinker, not a fighter!"

"I'm certain Windcharger didn't mean to insult your friend, Warpath," Mirage replied diplomatically, "Everyone is just stressed. We'll be alright. Soon we'll be apart of the largest unit of Autobots in the universe. Just stay focused."

Two breems then passed, and it was time for Mirage and his unit to say goodbye. Mirage, despite many fearing he would be nothing but a spoiled tower mech, had actually turned out to be a friendly and capable Autobot over the past five vorns. Windcharger was likely Mirage's best friend in the whole unit since they spent most of their off-time together. Warpath wasn't close to Mirage, but he did respect the blue and white racer for his bravery and grace.

"We're not gonna make it, you know that right?" Gears groused, "Knowing my luck I'm gonna get slagged first. Hey, does this joint sound squeaky to you guys? Do you think this'll give us away?"

"You sound fine, Gears," Beachcomber replied patiently, "Don't worry so much, brother. We're gonna glide through this ride with plenty of time to spare. They won't find us."

Warpath wasn't listening to the others. He was in full battle mode and standing at attention at the door just waiting for it to open for them. He glanced just long enough to see that Seaspray was checking his weapon to ensure it was charged. So, at least one other 'Bot was as alert as him.

When that door opened the minibots all burst out of there; no hesitation among any of them.

"Be careful, Strider!" Moonracer called out to her boyfriend.

"Aren't I always?" Strider replied confidently.

Five of them transformed into their car, truck, and tank modes and took off. Seaspray stayed in bipedal mode because a floatation vehicle wasn't very useful on a metallic surface such as the roads of Iacon.

Everything was quiet and deserted. The tension was high, and they feared even speaking lest they invite a Decepticon attack. Warpath remembered being a Decepticon and hunting down Autobots. Looking back on the mechs and femmes he captured and slaughtered in his career, he felt undeserving of the love and acceptance he had with his teammates. Even now, it seemed too good to be true sometimes.

Suddenly Gears stopped in the middle of the road, and everyone else had to screech to a halt and reverse to get back to him. Gears transformed into robot mode, and Seaspray went up to him first since he was already transformed.

"What are you doing, Gears?" Seaspray snapped, "You're making yourself a target!"

"This was my house," Gears said softly as he looked at a pile of debris surrounded by a broken iron fence, "See that little box right there? That was where Twitch lived. He was my cyberhound when I was a mechling. I found him when his paw got stuck in a turbo fox trap. My carrier nursed him back to health and said I could keep him. I called him Twitch because his paw had a loose wire that made it twitch."

"I know how you feel, Gears," Strider replied, and Seaspray gave him a withering look that said 'get this guy out of here', "I remember seeing my sparkling home after vorns of being gone. I wasn't all that attached to the place, but then I saw an old tire from my first frame still sittin' in the garage, and that brought back memories. My parents always told me I would be a great racer, and for a while I was. The little tires that started it all...yeah, good times."

"Can we fast forward through the sentimental stuff?" Seaspray asked irritably, "Gears, you're the last one I would expect to go soft, and you certainly wouldn't forgive us for doing what you're doing now!"

"You're right. I'm sorry," Gears replied apologetically as he transformed back into truck mode, "I guess I just lost it for a second. Let's go."

The minibots continued on their way, but the conversation got Warpath to thinking about something…

"Say Beachcomber, where were you PEW sparked?" Warpath asked as they continued to drive side by side.

"I dunno," Beachcomber replied cluelessly, "I guess in Vector Sigma. As far as where my sire lived, well...wherever, I guess. We moved around a lot."

"Sounds rough," Warpath commented.

"Not really," Beachcomber replied nonchalantly, "I got to see the universe. There are so many planets and so many stars. Even Cybertron has a lot of diversity. What about you, Warpath? Where are you from again?"

"Helex," Warpath replied, "It really wasn't that WHAM special. It was hot most of the time, I remember that much. My dad was always BOOM repairing stuff. He was pretty cool, actually. He was ZOOM the only real friend I had growing up. I still don't know when or how he died."

"That's awful, mech," Beachcomber said sympathetically, "I learned about my sire's passing from an audio file they sent me from the Polyhexian Hall of Records. He had been washing windows when a cable gave way and he fell to his death. He never even saw the war. In a cosmic sort of way, he was lucky."

"Did you have a carrier?" Warpath asked.

"Nope, just Vector Sigma," Beachcomber repeated.

"Me, too," Warpath replied, "Sometimes I wondered if my ZAP relationship with my father would've been different with a femme in his life. Honestly, it used to YOW scare me to think about him meeting someone and forgetting about me."

"My sire dated all the time," Beachcomber replied, "I never had a problem with it. Well, except when he dated Electria. She dated him for a couple orns, but then she told me she wanted to dump him and date me instead. I said no way! I wouldn't do somethin' like that to my own sire. She was out of her processor."

Warpath would've replied, but they had finally made it to the Autobot base. Warpath didn't see how such a small and ordinary building could hold all of them, but then he saw the underground elevator, and everything became clear.

The group transformed into bipedal mode and rode down to the real base, and the lot of them were taken aback by how big it was and how much stuff was already there. There were also many different 'Bots milling around performing their assignments, and a vaulted door with a sign that read Energon Reserves.

"You're late," Firestar groused from her spot to the right side of the elevator.

"It's rude to say it like that," Strider teased Firestar, "We missed ya, commander. So, is our glorious leader really here, or is this just for the help?"

"Inferno is being debriefed now," Firestar replied, "I've already met with Optimus Prime and Elita One. They seem very nice."

"Do we have to meet them, too?" Gears grumbled, "My tires are shot, and my rims are sore. Can't we just go to our quarters? Or preferably the medbay?"

Warpath didn't say it, but Gears summed up his feelings perfectly. He didn't want to see the Prime, and he certainly didn't want to pretend everything was fine when the Primacy started this whole conflict in the first place. That being said, he hated it that his feelings had to be summed up by Gears. Gears was a major pain in the struts, and Warpath didn't like it when they agreed on anything.

"You just park it, buster!" Firestar snapped at Gears, "We're all meeting the Prime as soon as the others get here."

"I hope Moonracer is POW okay," Warpath said sullenly, "It's dangerous out there."

"Eh, she's a big girl," Strider said with a smirk, "She'll be fine. You might not know this Warpath, but she was a professional sharpshooter even before the war. She used to be in shows and everything! If the 'Cons mess with her, they'll regret it."

That made Warpath feel a little better, but he still wished they hadn't been forced to separate into groups in the first place. The construction vehicles were good Autobots, but they weren't the best fighters. If the femmes and construction vehicles were ambushed, then the femmes might be their best hope for survival.

A few breems later they heard the sound of the elevator rumbling in its tunnel. When it opened everyone was relieved to see every single femme and construction vehicle, and none of them were injured. Firestar counted her group, and let out a relieved gust of air when she saw that everyone was present and accounted for.

"Alright everyone," Firestar intoned to the crowd, "Inferno just comm'ed me saying the Prime is ready in inspect the troops. This is it. We are officially a part of Team Prime. This is my last few moments of command, so I just want to say how proud I am of each and every one of you. If you keep performing as efficiently and diligently as you have been, then the Autobots still have a chance at victory!"

Everyone smiled at Firestar, and a few even cheered at her pep talk. Warpath tried not to let his reservations show on his face plate. He tried to look happy. After all, this might not be the assignment he wanted, but at least he would still get to work with his friends and the unit he had come to think of as his family.

Optimus Prime then walked into the room; flanked on his left side by Ironhide and Prowl and his right side by Jazz. Warpath had never personally met any of Prime's inner circle, but everyone knew who they were. Prowl, the stoic tactician and SIC. Ironhide, the warrior in charge of training Prime's mechs. Jazz, the elusive and stylish saboteur. These mechs were all fearsome by themselves, but together Warpath felt he was in over his helm.

"Lt. Firestar, Inferno has told me many great things about you," Optimus Prime said to their base commander, "I am grateful you and your fellow Autobots made it to Iacon safely."

"Thank you, Prime," Firestar replied in clipped tones; showing that despite her formality she was a little nervous.

"I wish I had more time to speak to each new Autobot individually, but sadly there is still much planning to do," Optimus said regretfully, "Megatron has taken over Altihex and is moving toward Nuon. We must be ready for a counteroffensive."

"You can count on my team, sir," Firestar assured him, "We've got soldiers, medics, and scientists all at your disposal."

"Thank you, Firestar," Optimus replied with a slight nod of his helm, "Hound took the liberty of assigning quarters for your group. Is there anything special I should know before we call it a night?"

"No sir," Firestar replied.

"Then I'll let you and your comrades get settled in," Optimus said warmly, "Hound is waiting at the end of the hall. He'll guide everyone to their rooms."

With those words the Prime turned and left. Warpath was a bit surprised by what he saw so far. There were many tales and rumors that made their way through the Decepticon ranks about what sort of mech the new Prime was. Some said he was a coward. Others said he was as bloodthirsty as Megatron. Still others claimed he was Alpha Trion wearing a fake body to impress people. Whatever Warpath expected, he didn't expect a calm and reasonable mech with an amiable personality. He didn't know if the Prime would show his true colors of if he was actually sincere, but he would try to keep an open mind and reserve judgment.

As it turned out, they had even less room in Iacon than they had on Topitron. Every available Autobot was coming here, so the quarters were tight. Warpath now had not 3 roommates, but 4. He was going to room with their liaison (Hound), a jeep-former mech named Trailbreaker, his old roommate Seaspray, and a scientist named Perceptor. Warpath was going to miss hanging out with Beachcomber and Strider, but at least Seaspray was still his roommate, so that was something.

As he picked at the caked-in residue in the grooves of his recharge berth, Warpath heard the door open and saw a red microscope-former enter his quarters.

Hm, must be this Perceptor guy… Warpath thought to himself.

Truth be told, Warpath didn't know what to expect from Perceptor. Sure, Beachcomber was technically a scientist since he specialized in geology, but examining rocks for mineral deposits for a few breems and then spending the rest of the day chilling wasn't exactly the same thing as being cooped up in a lab and writing numbers down at every possible opportunity. Warpath was sure he'd have nothing in common with this new mech.

Perceptor, meanwhile, examined his own berth in the corner of the room and didn't even seem to notice Warpath was there. He hummed under his breath every few astro-seconds and wrote things down on his data pad; exactly as Warpath had imagined he would. After a few breems, however, he finally turned around and noticed Warpath; causing the red and black scientist to yelp in surprise.

"Oh, goodness, I'm terribly sorry," Perceptor apologized, and Warpath noticed he had a proper tower accent, "I didn't even notice you there. I just got here myself. So, are you Hound, Trailbreaker, or Warpath?"

"Warpath," The titular tank replied flatly.

"Oh, I see…" Perceptor replied shakily as he slowly and subconsciously backed against the wall.

Perceptor was well aware of who Warpath was, even if the rest of the Autobots seemed oblivious. Warpath was with the Decepticon brigade that overthrew Praxus. Now, Perceptor didn't know about any of that when he got there. No, he learned about it when Prowl requested that someone switch rooms with him. Perceptor agreed without knowing why, but upon questioning others he learned from Bluestreak that Prowl said he refused to share a room with anyone who had aided in destroying his hometown. Ever since then Perceptor had been nervous about meeting the former 'Con.

For a few awkward moments neither one said anything to each other. Perceptor knew it looked strange to stare at this mech when he had unpacking to do, but he couldn't take his optics off of him. Warpath was a tank-former, a Decepticon alt mode if ever there was one, and his perforated face mask look positively eerie. He was slightly shorter than Perceptor, but not enough to make the scientist feel safe being alone with him. He didn't know what he was going to do.

One thing Perceptor did know was that he was going to have a long talk with Prowl about this if he made it out alive.

Warpath, for his part, knew exactly what that stare of Perceptor's meant. He'd seen it his entire life, even before the war. That look meant fear, and it meant that he was not welcome. That was the look of Helexians that didn't want to be near war-makes. It was the look he got at the grocery store, the look he got from his cadets after he killed Luster, and the look he used to get from Autobot prisoners. In short, it was a reflection into everything he hated about himself.

"So…" Warpath dragged out the word as he tried to think of something to say to this mech, "...Where you from?"

"Iacon, actually," Perceptor replied nervously, "I've been away on a planet called Gilmax 7. It was a great place to research organic life, but I'm still quite glad to be home."

"Organic life?" Warpath asked, "You should talk to BLAM Beachcomber. He loves organics."

"I'll try to remember that," Perceptor replied noncommittally, "Do you have any interest in xenobiology?"

"Not really," Warpath replied honestly, "I'm more of a fighter than a BOOM thinker."

"I see," Perceptor muttered awkwardly, "Well, when you have the opportunity to expand your mind, what subjects do you find most interesting?"

Warpath just shrugged and said "I learn what I need to. I'm not ZAP big on learning for fun."

"Well, to each their own, I suppose," Perceptor replied as diplomatically as he could.

They both went back to their business and ignored each other until the rest of the roommates showed up. Warpath wasn't too keen on having Perceptor as a roommate and he knew the stuck-up scientist was no friend of his. He sighed and figured he would just have to learn to ignore him.

Over the next few orns Warpath began to figure out the dynamic of the groups as they shifted and adapted. He and Seaspray of course were still good friends and would tell each other all about their day and their training exercises. It was nice to have someone there who liked to discuss strategy and understood that this was a conflict and not a social gathering. It kept Warpath grounded.

Warpath also discovered that Hound and Trailbreaker were old friends that had come to Cybertron from an off-world mission just like Warpath and Seaspray. Both of the jeep-formers enjoyed the outdoors and for the most part were pleasant, though not mechs Warpath would consider friends. He did notice that Mirage had become friends with Hound and Trailbreaker. Their sigma abilities were similar, so it made sense that they had a lot to talk about. While Mirage could turn invisible, Hound projected holograms and Trailbreaker could generate force fields. All very useful abilities, and therefore all three knew how it felt to be taken advantage of by others.

One thing Warpath noticed, however, was that Perceptor was usually very quiet when in the room. Outside the room Warpath didn't often see him, but when he did take notice of the scientist he would often note that Perceptor was alone in a corner somewhere reading a data pad or working on a project for their superior officers. It wasn't the kind of welcome Warpath expected for an elite scientist and an ideal Autobot like Perceptor.

Seven orns after being assigned to Iacon, Warpath was in the commissary refueling with Beachcomber, Seaspray, and Strider just like they always did. They only had a quarter ration due to the energon shortage, and Warpath felt bad for the bigger 'Bots who got just as little as he did. At least minibots could work longer on such a small amount.

"So then Moonracer says if I don't straighten up she'd walk out on me," Strider said as he recalled an indecent from two orns ago, "I told her go ahead and try. She'd be back. Well, she broke up with me, only to come runnin' back a few joors ago. What did I tell you? Femmes...so predictable."

"You really should be WHAM nicer to Moonracer," Warpath advised, "She works really POW hard, and the patients love her."

"Sure, you say that now, but you've only seen her good side," Strider remarked, "I'm tellin' you, femmes can be a real pain in the aft when they're around all the time. Of course, the times when they're good to you make it all worth it. They must, otherwise I wouldn't keep doin' this to myself! She drives me crazy and I go back for more!"

"Funny, she says the exact same thing about you," Beachcomber said with a smirk as he looked at Strider from behind his grey visor.

Strider looked scandalized as the other three mechs laughed about Beachcomber's observation. Warpath's attention was soon diverted, however, by a commotion in the energon line. A bronze and olive green minibot was crowding Perceptor and displaying aggressive body language.

"Hey guys, who's that mech?" Warpath asked as he pointed to the new minibot.

"That's Brawn," Seaspray gurgled, "He's been with Prime's unit from the beginning. Apparently he's very strong. He and a minibot named Huffer became fast friends with Gears."

"Why am I not surprised?" Strider asked wryly.

Warpath watched for a moment while the others continued talking. Perceptor looked nervous and evasive while the minibot's voice grew louder and his gesticulation became domineering and forceful. Warpath could tell, this Brawn guy was causing trouble for Perceptor. Taking a deep intake to steel himself, Warpath got up from the table and slowly walked over to where the confrontation was taking place. He could already hear Brawn's biting words as he drew closer to the argument, and as he watched Perceptor try to back away Warpath grew angrier at the minibot that was threatening the peaceful scientist.

"...While we're out in the field, and you're just cowering here like some kind of turbo rat!" Brawn was bellowing at Perceptor, who at this point wasn't even trying to leave anymore, "If you had any courage at all you'd be out there helping us, but instead you just hang back here and let real mechs do the dirty work for you!"

"Ahem!" Warpath cleared his vocalizer to get their attention.

"What do you want?" Brawn asked Warpath rudely.

Now, Warpath had been in trouble before for threatening teammates over his sense of righteous indignation. He knew grabbing this guy and throwing him into a wall wouldn't look good on his record. That being said, this time he had a new strategy for handling such a blowhard.

"I want to speak to Perceptor," Warpath replied calmly, as if the fight wasn't even happening, "It's BLOOEY important."

Brawn quirked an optic ridge at Warpath's verbal tic, and was distracted just long enough for Warpath to grab Perceptor's elbow and drag him away from Brawn. They went out into the hallway together, and Perceptor looked back to make sure Brawn hadn't followed them.

"Alright, what's the message?" Perceptor asked quickly; believing Warpath had been sent by someone else.

"Huh? Oh, I just KABLAM made that up," Warpath admitted, "You just looked like you could use some WHAMMO help."

"Oh, well I, um...thank you, Warpath," Perceptor stammered, "I thought you didn't like me, actually."

"I don't really know what I think about you," Warpath shrugged, "That being said, I know that POP Brawn doesn't understand what you WHOOSH do around here. I know science is important to our cause, too. We need BAM energon, and mechs like you are the ones who are gonna find it for us."

Perceptor smiled then, the first real smile Warpath had seen on the mech's face plate since they met.

"Thank you, Warpath. Sincerely," Perceptor said with a slight bow, "I hope someday we can learn to be friends. We cannot have true peace until we learn to accept each other for who we are. I'm sorry I was so quick to judgment. I was wrong."

"Forget it," Warpath replied nonchalantly as he turned and made his way back to the commissary where his friends were waiting.

Warpath was still learning how the Autobots worked, even all these vorns later, but he did see one key difference between them and the Decepticons. With the Decepticons he was encouraged to do whatever it took to get ahead and to not care who got in his way. With the Autobots, it seemed, a conscience and a sense of community was actively encouraged. Yes, Warpath was still glad he got out of the Decepticons before it was too late.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Fly By Moonlight

The next couple vorns were spent in a routine that Warpath rarely broke. He onlined, refueled with his minibot friends or occasionally another member of the team, went to his training courses, and once every four orns trained more inexperienced Autobots how to defend themselves. He also went out into battle every chance he got so he could protect his friends and the rest of his team. Unlike his routine with the Decepticons however, this was a schedule he hoped would never be broken.

He always liked it when he was sent out on missions that included the femme brigade, since that gave him a chance to see Moonracer and Firestar. The femmes were good fighters, and Warpath was impressed by Moonracer's sharpshooting. Sadly, her pedes weren't as coordinated as her trigger digit. She would often trip over something or fall on someone during their missions. She was trained as a medic, and being a soldier wasn't easy for her despite how good her aim was.

Of course Warpath had to deal with the constant drama of Strider and Moonracer breaking up and getting back together. At this point they had been apart for 15 orns, and this time it looked like it might be for good. Warpath was surprised to realize this, but he was actually happy about that. Moonracer wasn't happy with Strider, and despite how passionate they were together Strider was never going to make her his priority, and Warpath thought she deserved better than that.

It was on this particular orn that Warpath made a decision. He was tired of sitting and waiting for nothing to happen. He wanted to ask Moonracer out, and he wanted to know for sure if there could ever be anything between them. He knew there was a chance she would reject him, and he promised himself not to make her feel worse if she did. He just needed to know if he had a chance.

There was, however, one bit of business that held him back. Strider was his friend, and had been his friend for vorns. For as long as Warpath had been an Autobot, he had been friends with Strider. If he was going to date Strider's ex, then he needed to make sure it was okay with the red racer first.

It was in the afternoon when Warpath was walking down the halls from the training room to the wash racks when he saw Strider strolling along whistling a tune to himself. Warpath took a deep intake and nodded to himself. This was the best time to ask him about Moonracer...he hoped.

"Hey Strider!" Warpath called out jovially; trying to sound casual.

"Hey Warpath, how's it hanging?" Strider asked in a friendly manner.

"Um, Strider, can I BLOOEY talk to you about something?" Warpath asked.

"Sure thing, pal," Strider replied, "Just make it kinda quick. Wheeljack says I need my tires changed if I don't wanna be a liability out in the field."

"Well, I was just wondering if I could...uh..."

Warpath's confidence was waning, and he wasn't sure if he should actually ask this question or not.

"I, uh...POW! I just, I mean, I want to WHAM..."

Warpath gulped and readied himself for the worst.

"I wanna ask Moonracer out on a date."

"Oh yeah?" Strider asked as he quirked an optic ridge, "Well, the only advice I can give you there is don't get your hopes up."

Warpath scowled at that remark.

"Hey, don't take it the wrong way!" Strider put his hands up placatingly, "I think you're a great guy and any femme would be lucky to have you, but I don't think that femme should be Moonracer. You don't know her like I do. You see Warpath, you're what I like to call a 'shining knight'. You feel like you have to rescue and protect people. You fantasize about savin' the girl, whiskin' her away and keeping her safe and happy forever. Moonracer ain't that kind of femme though. She's tough, independent, and will punch out any mech that says otherwise. She don't need anyone else, and on some level I think you need to be needed. I just don't want you to get hurt when she lets you down."

"You don't BLAM know me at all!" Warpath shouted, "You think I can't ZOOM love Moonracer because she's strong? That's ridiculous! I love Moonracer because she's a BLAST strong femme! I respect her, and I think we'd be great together!"

"Hey, don't get mad!" Strider quickly exclaimed, "I'm not tryin' to put you or her down. I just don't think you're a good match. But hey, if you wanna try then I'm not gonna stop you. She's too high-strung anyway. I could use a break. Maybe date someone younger, less clumsy. Oh, who am I kiddin'? Every femme I've ever dated has either been clumsy or broke things on a regular basis. It's like I'm cursed! Anyway, good luck Warpath, you're gonna need it."

Strider then walked away, and Warpath felt both delighted and insulted at the same time. He didn't even know it was possible to feel both those things at once, but he decided to let his excitement over courting Moonracer win out over his being miffed at Strider for being a slag head.

Moonracer had been surprised when she returned to her quarters that night. She found a note on her computer desk that read:

Dear Moonracer,

I have admired you from afar for many vorns, but I was too shy to tell you how I felt about you. I would be honored if we could go out together tonight. Enclosed in this note is a ticket for the turbo fox races outside Iacon. I thought that would be casual enough for a blind date. I'll be the mech waiting for you by Gate E.

Yours truly, your secret admirer.

Moonracer read the note three times to make certain she understood this correctly. If it was someone that had loved her for vorns, then it must have been someone from her old unit on Topitron. But who could it be? There were many mechs she worked with closely.

It could be Mirage. That would be exciting, but also a little unnerving. After all, who better to admire someone from afar (or in the wash racks) than an invisible mech? It could also be one of the construction 'Bots. Maybe Hauler or Caravan? Nah, those guys barely spoke to her. She also considered that there were many minibots at their old base. It wouldn't be Beachcomber because he never took anything that seriously, and this note sounded serious. Windcharger was someone who worked under her. It could be him...

Just then, Firestar walked into the room they shared with Chromia and another femme named Sunbeam. She could immediately tell that something was on Moonracer's processor.

"Hey Moonracer, what's wrong?" Firestar asked without preamble.

"I've been invited on a date to the turbo fox races outside town," Moonracer replied, "Some wannabe Rodeo snuck in and left this on my desk."

"Oh, I see. Strider trying to make up again?" Firestar guessed, "You need to just let him go. All he does is add unneeded drama to your life. Find someone new. There are plenty of other 'Bot's around here. Maybe introduce yourself to the special ops team. I hear Mirage got accepted into their group."

"You make it sound like a fraternity instead of an elite spy organization," Moonracer teased, "Seriously though, this isn't about Strider. This ticket came from a secret admirer, and I have no clue who he is. For all I know this could be a Decepticon trap, or the guy could be a creep. I mean, what if it's Gears for pit's sake?"

Firestar laughed at that one. Moonracer scowled and threw her berth charger at Firestar; which the red vehicle swiftly dodged as if it were nothing.

"Moony, I'm pretty sure it can't be Decepticons," Firestar told her with an amused smile, "How could they got into your quarters? As far as Gears, well...there are worse options."

"Worse than Gears?" Moonracer challenged.

"Yeah, it could be Strider," Firestar joked, and then dodged another berth charger, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Anyway, you'll never know unless you go. It could be someone nice. What can you tell about this guy from the note?"

"Well, I can tell he was from our Topitron unit," Moonracer replied, "He's also shy because it took him this long to even send me a note. He's well spoken because of how charmingly his note was written. Oh, and he isn't trying to pressure me because he wanted to take me someplace casual, but he also wanted to take me someplace fun so he picked the turbo fox races."

"If Smokescreen was in our unit I would say it was him," Firestar shrugged, "He's well spoken, but also a compulsive gambler. Hm, maybe it's Mirage. He's shy, he likes turbo foxes, and he speaks with a certain aristocratic flare. I wonder what going out with Mirage would be like…"

"Hey, knock it off! You already have a boyfriend!" Moonracer exclaimed before bursting out laughing.

"Yeah, and none of them can hold a candle to Inferno," Firestar commented, "He'd just put it out anyway. Ha!"

Moonracer felt better after talking to Firestar. After all, what was the worst that could happen? She got along with most of her old teammates, and a few of them would even make decent boyfriend material. Just not Gears. Never Gears!

The night came and Moonracer cautiously made her way to an abandoned building that some neutrals had set up as a turbo fox racing stadium. Well, less a stadium and more of a giant basement, but in war torn Iacon it was the best they could do. Moonracer felt the pistol strapped to her hip strut and felt comforted by its weight. For all she knew that invitation was a plant by a minicon that had made its way into her quarters and was going to gun her down. She entered the large but dilapidated building and handed a burly mech her ticket.

"You want Gate E, turbo foxes," the mech informed her in a Nuonian accent.

"Thank you," Moonracer replied casually as she went further inside.

Many vorns ago this sort of activity would have been illegal in Iacon, but with no real government or law enforcement there were no such laws in place. Laws require some form of police, and such a thing didn't exist here anymore.

She saw that several mechs and femmes were entering a large open entrance that had the words Gate E scrawled in white paint across the top. She looked to see if anyone was familiar, and that was when she saw Warpath standing at the door rocking on his pedes and holding a bucket of energon goodies that looked big enough to share.

"Warpath?" Moonracer called out in surprise, "It was you? You're my secret admirer? I never suspected...it was you?"

"If you're disappointed I don't ZAM blame you," Warpath replied bashfully, "If you still want to stay though, I got us a ZOOM program and some snacks. They weren't cheap either with the BANG energon shortage."

"Oh, I'm not disappointed, I'm just...surprised," Moonracer stammered, "I guess I just never thought of you in that context. Well, not since Polyhex, anyway."

"Can we not mention that?" Warpath requested sorely, "You almost WHOMP killed me that time."

"Yeah, you almost killed me too," Moonracer reminded him as she walked over to stand next to Warpath.

"I wouldn't have killed you," Warpath told her as they walked to the bleachers, "I was too POP overcharged to aim my cannon properly."

Moonracer laughed and led Warpath to where she saw two available seats. They were close to where the action was and they could even see the trainers encouraging and grooming their turbo foxes. One poor rookie was even cuddling with his!

"So Warpath, which fox do you like in the next race?" Moonracer asked as she eyed the competitors.

"Oh, I don't bet on these things," Warpath informed her, "However, if I had to BAM guess, I would pick 11. He looks a little crazy. The crazy ones usually ZING win."

"I'll keep that in mind," Moonracer replied drolly just before the official called for silence in the audience.

The race was intense between the turbo foxes, and Moonracer stood up a couple times to cheer for her favorite fox (number 11). It turned out being a tie between 11 and 4. The photo revealed it was in fact 4 that won, and Moonracer was disappointed that their pick only came in second.

During intermission Warpath and Moonracer shared energon snacks and talked about turbo foxes mostly. Their conversations weren't too deep, and the date was for the most part casual, but Warpath couldn't be happier. He knew Moonracer must have been disappointed even if she didn't say it to his faceplate, but he was grateful she was actually giving him a chance. Maybe this could work out after all.

The next race began, and this time Warpath picked out which turbo fox won with total accuracy. When 16 crossed the finish line first Moonracer actually cheered and hugged Warpath, but after a second realized what she was doing and let go of him so his cannon wouldn't backfire.

"Sorry about that," Moonracer said sheepishly when she saw how flustered he looked.

"Sorry? This is the best day of my CRASH life!" Warpath replied with a dreamy look in his blue optics, "I love turbo fox races!"

"Me, too," Moonracer replied with a sly grin, "Say Warpath, you think we can afford anymore of these energon snacks? I know they don't hold energy as well as real fuel, but we should still try to take back as much as we can for our team."

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Warpath exclaimed, "I've got 15 creds left. You?"

"Nothing," Moonracer lamented, "You go buy as big a bucket of goodies as you can. I'm gonna look under the bleachers for loose change. If I find anything we can buy more. I don't know how these neutrals got energon, but we have to get as much of this back to our unit as possible."

"Right," Warpath nodded briskly before setting off to get more energon snacks.

Their date had gone well, but just like always the realities of life had to get in the way. He was just grateful that the audience was mostly made up of neutrals. If there were Decepticons around to notice them then he and Moonracer would've been in real trouble. He cursed himself for not thinking this through.

It had been 9 orns since his date with Moonracer. They had brought back only one small bucket of energon snacks; not nearly enough for one mech, let alone an army. They wound up melting down the snacks to reformat into medical energon in case someone was injured in battle. Overall it had been a pragmatic and depressing end to what started out as a great date.

Despite not being able to go out again Warpath still found time to spend with Moonracer and tried his best to perform thoughtful gestures for her. He saw a sparkling selling crystal bouquets on the side of the road while he was training, so he bought a bundle and set them on Moonracer's desk. He also had Beachcomber help him clean out his cannon nozzle (something he hadn't bothered to do since Air Warrior was living) so he wouldn't seem like a slob to her.

Overall, things were going well for the new couple. Moonracer had at first been reluctant to date Warpath because she didn't quite know how to act around him. While he wasn't exactly ugly, he also wasn't handsome by Autobot standards. His look just screamed Decepticon, and his voice just screamed period. Once she got past that though, she could see what a sweet thoughtful guy he was. She wasn't used to being doted on or treated with such adoration, and honestly she wasn't sure how to respond to it.

Moonracer dated Strider because she craved excitement and passion. Strider was a challenge to Moonracer, and also someone to argue with and then relish making up with. The problem was while Strider treated her as an equal he never treated her with respect. Warpath on the other servo respected her to a fault. She sometimes felt guilty at the lengths he went to just to make her happy, and he was so convinced that he was unworthy of her. She just wanted him to feel as loved as he made her feel.

"Hey Moonracer," Chromia called out from the other side of the training area, "Elita says there's a staff meeting. Something big is going down and Optimus is probably going to ask for volunteers for a dangerous mission."

"What kind of mission?" Moonracer asked.

"I don't know yet," Chromia replied, "But we need to get to the control room now."

Moonracer wasted no time in following Chromia and Firestar out to the control room. She was ready for something to do, since it would help her take her processor off her personal problems. She just hoped it wasn't anything too serious.

The mission, as it turned out, was escorting Alpha Trion to a secret laboratory in Iacon so that he could attempt to find a synthetic substitute for energon. If he succeeded it could turn the tide in favor of the Autobots. It was an advantage they sorely needed, because the Decepticons controlled almost their entire planet. Alpha Trion's current lab wasn't equipped to work with the volatile substances he needed for his formula, but he still felt a pang of sadness as he left the deteriorating old building behind.

Moonracer had volunteered to be part of the convoy. Four of the minibots volunteered as well. There was Strider taking point, Moonracer and Brawn on either side of Alpha Trion, and Warpath and Seaspray bringing up the rear. It was an odd sight to say the least. Because Seaspray had no land-based vehicle mode he was forced to ride on top of Warpath's tank mode.

"I've never felt so tall!" Seaspray exclaimed as he stretched his arms out for emphasis.

"Hey, quit that!" Warpath complained, "You're gonna make me SLAM lose my balance and fall over!"

"Slag, do you two ever shut up?" Brawn groused irritably.

"You're just jealous that Warpath has a cannon in his chest," Seaspray remarked; his smile evident in his voice though it couldn't be seen.

"Quite a lively bunch we have here today, eh?" Alpha Trion commented as he continued to drive languidly with his escorts.

"Try dealing with this every orn," Moonracer replied half-jokingly.

"You know you love it," Strider drawled as he began to rev up his engine, "Hey guys, watch me leave you in the dust!"

"Hey, that's not fair! I'm stuck in the back with a WHAM half-ton passenger!" Warpath yelled as Strider sped off.

"I'll catch him," Moonracer declared as she began to rev her engine as well.

Alpha Trion, however, transformed into robot mode and stopped moving. Moonracer and the others transformed as well when they saw he had fallen behind. Strider was still speeding ahead of everyone, and Alpha Trion looked worried.

"Alpha Trion, what's wrong?" Moonracer asked.

"Do you hear that?" Alpha Trion asked, and then as the sound of whistling grew louder he whispered, "Cluster bombs..."

An array of cluster bombs whizzed by their location and into the distance. A trine of seekers aimed for Strider, and the resulting explosion had everyone worried that the red minibot might have been destroyed.

Brawn was the first to transform into vehicle mode with everyone else following him. They got to the sight of the impact, and found Strider at the bottom of a crater in his vehicle mode; completely scorched.

Moonracer rushed down there to see if she could save him. Alpha Trion quickly followed to lend a servo if she needed it.

"He's alive," Moonracer announced curtly, "But the damage is pretty extensive. His spark chamber is ruptured, and his frame is totaled. I don't have the equipment to work with him here, and the only place close enough to our current location is your old lab. Alpha Trion, do you think he has a chance?"

"We need to move him carefully," Alpha Trion replied solemnly, "If we can get him back to the lab I might be able to give him a fighting chance. I know of a procedure that can save the spark and processor without the frame, but I've only performed it successfully twice. Get out of this crater and transform. You are faster than I am, so I need you to carry him on your vehicle mode."

"You got it, sir," Moonracer replied before crawling out of the hole.

Moonracer transformed and Alpha Trion secured Strider's badly damaged and leaking frame to her roof. The convoy then took off again back the way they came.

They were almost to the lab when suddenly the ground shook, and a sinkhole opened right in front of them; revealing a large Decepticon femme with ten thin legs and silver elongated fangs!

"You're not going anywhere, Autobots!" The femme bellowed in an echoing voice, "All who defy Megatron must perish!"

"Jawbone!" Seaspray exclaimed angrily as he stared up at the giant Decepticon, "Warpath, Brawn! We can handle her. Moonracer, Alpha Trion, go!"

To make this point clear, Warpath shot at Jawbone's face with his cannon; giving the medics of the group time to escape. Jawbone roared, and then charged at the three minibots!

She swiped at them with her many legs, and used her arms like swords to try to slash at the Autobots. Seaspray and Warpath peppered her with laser fire while Brawn used his brute strength to try to remove some of her legs and get her off balance. She dodged Brawn's attacks and managed to scratch Warpath's shoulder guard. Seaspray then jumped on her and started hitting her in the abdominal struts! Brawn used this opportunity to rip away her extra legs.

"Hey! Get off me you useless boat!" Jawbone raged at Seaspray.

"Forget it Jawbone, this is personal!" Seaspray burbled before kicking her in the chin.

Seaspray was thrown off Jawbone, and the femme tackled him; causing them both to roll on the ground in a mutual struggle. Seaspray was landing more blows than Jawbone, but Jawbone's fangs managed to jab right through Seaspray's right arm! Seaspray then shot at her chassis and barely missed her spark! She fell, and Seaspray was about to go for the killing blow when he was interrupted by Warpath.

"We don't have time for this!" Warpath exclaimed as he pointed toward the sky, "Those FRAG seekers are back! We gotta move!"

"Next time, Jawbone," Seaspray vowed before subspacing his weapon.

"Next time the circumstances will be different and your helm will be mine, boat," Jawbone spat before she went into stasis lock.

The three minibots found some rubble to hide under while they waited for the seekers to retrieve their fallen comrade and go. The seekers looked around the area for the Autobots for a while, but then were satisfied there was nothing in the area and left. The three minibots then made their way to Alpha Trion's lab to check in on Strider and Moonracer.

When the minibots got to the lab they were told to stay outside while the medics worked. To go from a heated battle to a tense yet boring waiting room was quite a jolt to their systems, but none of them had anything else to do but sit there.

"I hope Strider doesn't die," Warpath lamented, "I know we've had our CRACK differences, but he's one of my best friends."

"Mine, too," Seaspray replied glumly, "Though to be honest, he's a racer so sometimes I get tired of keeping up with his fast pace. I wasn't exactly built to keep up with land dwellers. I will miss his energy and positive attitude though."

"Hey, knock it off, will you?" Brawn snapped, "You make it sound like he already bought a one-way ticket to the Matrix! Strider's gonna pull through, you'll see. He's got Alpha Trion himself working on him!"

"Not to mention his ex-girlfriend," Seaspray replied pessimistically, "Face it, he's doomed."

"Moonracer ain’t like that," Warpath replied defensively, "She'll JAM do everything she can to save Strider. Maybe they'll even...get back together."

"Don't talk like that," Seaspray admonished him, "She likes you. You're good to her. Strider's a good mech, but even he can't say he was ever good to Moonracer, not really. You'll see. She'll stay with you no matter what."

Just then the door opened, and Moonracer stepped out, followed by Alpha Trion.

"Well? How is he?" Warpath asked anxiously.

"I never thought that would work," Moonracer said softly as she shook her helm in astonishment, "Uh, guys? Strider...is gone."

"I knew it! He's dead!" Seaspray wailed dramatically.

"Not at all," Alpha Trion replied consolingly, "He just isn't the same mech anymore. I had to give him a new, more powerful frame to stabilize his condition. I also gave him a new frame type, and he seems to be quite pleased with it."

"You mean he ain't a racer anymore?" Brawn asked critically, "Is he at least still a minibot, or is that fragging turbo rat gonna start calling me shorty?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Strider's voice inquired from behind the darkened door, "Hey, let me outta here. I wanna show the guys my wings."

"Your what?" The three minibots exclaimed in unison.

A red biplane stepped out of the operating room wearing a silver battle mask and sporting two sets of thin wings on his back. His dark blue optics, however, bore the same devil-may-care glint that Strider's had always been known for, and his red paint job was still the same.

"Hey guys, say goodbye to Strider and hello to Powerglide!" Powerglide exclaimed as he posed for his captive audience.

"Great, now Warpath isn't the only one who'll poke people in the halls with his appendage," Brawn joked, "Those wings are gonna get caught in everything!"

"Very funny, rust bucket," Powerglide pouted; upset that his friends weren't oohing and aahing over him, "For your information, I'm one of the only fliers in the Autobots thanks to Alpha Trion and Moonracer here, and once I learn how to use these beauties these wings are gonna be my new trademark!"

"What was your old trademark?" Brawn asked with his hand on his hip strut.

"Don't tell them, super struts," Moonracer said with a wink.

She and the others laughed at Brawn's over-the-top disgusted reaction. Whatever his new name and new frame was, Warpath was just grateful his friend had survived his injuries. This would definitely give them an advantage out in the battlefield. The only problem was Powerglide would never let them forget it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

A New Journey

Despite Strider- Oops, Powerglide's extreme makeover, not much changed around the Autobot base for Warpath. Warpath was still stuck with 4 roommates, he was still in a new and euphoric relationship with Moonracer, and he still went out and kicked Decepticon tailpipe whenever they were found snooping in Iacon.

Training used to be the most fun Warpath had in his daily routine, but now he looked forward to the times when that routine would be broken by a stray note near his desk or an impromptu dinner date. Moonracer seemed to be getting just as swept up as Warpath, which the tank-former found absolutely astounding. He never imagined that a femme of her beauty and intellect could be swept away by anyone, let alone a mech as broken as he was. Oh, he wasn't broken so badly that he cried himself to sleep at night, but he knew there were pieces of him that were gone and couldn't be replaced. He wished he and Moonracer had dated when they were younger. Warpath felt like he was a better person back then.

Of course, his friendship with Powerglide had not changed. While his friend was a blowhard and a bit self-absorbed, Warpath was comforted by the fact that Powerglide never held a grudge and never seemed to change (on the inside). Beachcomber and Seaspray were also the same as they had been when Warpath first met them, and it was a great source of both comfort and fear that his friends stayed his friends. He was comforted because he liked stability. He was afraid because he could still lose them.

The orn was shaping up to be a good one. Optimus informed them that patrols had found no signs of Decepticons, and on top of that the sky was clear and bright. Daylight wasn't a constant on Cybertron, but they got to see one of their suns on this orn, and it made even the ruins of their city shine in a way that was absolutely beautiful.

"Wow, this'll be great weather for flight training!" Powerglide remarked as he stared up at the cloudless sky.

"Cool. You gettin' any better at it?" Beachcomber asked while Seaspray looked down at the ground at all the metallic litter, "I'll bet flyin's awesome. Many of my bird friends have told me it's a lot of work though."

"Maybe, but nothin's too big for ole Powerglide!" Powerglide boasted, "Hey, I know what we should do! Since we got the orn off, we should find Warpath and go to the salt fields together. We can build salt fortresses!"

"Yeah, and I can swim in that oil pond nearby!" Seaspray agreed excitedly.

"Sounds good, but Warpath won't wanna go," Beachcomber informed them, "Don't you know what today is?"

"Apparently not garbage day," Seaspray commented as he kicked a sharp piece of metal off to the side.

"Guys, it's Nominus 16," Beachcomber told them, referring to the month and orn, "You know Warpath gets really cranky and depressed on Nominus 16. Every vorn it's exactly the same. I doubt even Moonracer's gonna get any attention from him right now."

"Oh yeah, now that you mention it, I have noticed he does that," Powerglide shrugged, "So what gives, Beachcomber? He talks to you the most. Why is he always so angry on Nominus 16?"

"I don't know," Beachcomber replied, "I figured it wasn't my place to ask. One cannot force the wind to come to them, after all. The wind must come to you willingly. If Warpath feels we have a need to know, then he'll tell us."

"I can't believe none of us asked," Seaspray burbled ruefully, "He's our friend. We should know what's wrong."

"Eh, it's probably an anniversary or somethin'," Powerglide shrugged, "Everybody's lost someone to this war. It's probably his creators or friend or somethin'."

"There's only two people he frequently talks about," Beachcomber mused, "His sire who mysteriously vanished, and his Decepticon friend Air Warrior who was killed. It's probably one of them."

The other two minibots agreed, and then they awkwardly changed the subject. None of them asked Warpath why he was holed up in his room that orn. Powerglide thought it was no big deal, Seaspray felt too guilty to ask, and Beachcomber felt that it would only cause Warpath more grief than it would heal.

The month of Nominus came and went. Warpath's bitterness came and went. No one knew why.

Warpath walked down the halls to the training room and greeted every mech he saw along the way. He waved to Perceptor, to Red Alert and Inferno, to Huffer, and even managed a non-threatening hand gesture to Brawn (even though they still weren't on good terms).

His leisurely walk was interrupted, however, by a comm. from Prowl.

/Warpath, meet in the control room,/ Prowl ordered over the comm. link, /You are required for a mission./

Warpath pumped his treaded feet as quickly as he could as he ran to the control room. He was always ready for a mission. It was a chance to protect the innocent, to quash the evil that was ravaging their world, and to help his friends. Warpath had a mission, and he didn't want to keep his superiors waiting.

Warpath skidded to a halt directly in front of Prowl and looked around for his fellow teammates. Nobody else was there. Just him and Prowl. Was this a solo mission? He'd never had one of those before. He'd never been trusted with one before. Maybe this was an opportunity...

"Warpath, I'm glad you arrived in a timely fashion," Prowl said blandly as he looked down at a data pad instead of looking Warpath in the optic, "Our scouting team came across Decepticons while searching for energon. One of the Decepticons was injured and was taken prisoner. As soon as Ratchet finishes with him in the medbay I want you to take the first shift guarding him until we can negotiate for his release."

"Guard duty?" Warpath asked; disappointed, "Well...Yes, sir."

Warpath hated guard duty. All guards did was sit on their afts all day and read data pads while pretending what they did was important. He didn't want to be one of those mechs, but at the same time he didn't feel comfortable enough with high ranking officers like Prowl to refuse an order, no matter how minor. He still didn't even trust Optimus Prime, despite all the time that Warpath spent in his presence. Then again, he wasn't actually defending the Prime. He was defending his friends. If they needed him to be a guard, then so be it.

Warpath walked along a row of prison cells down in the basement of their headquarters. Every cell was empty except for the one Warpath was going to. They were so low on energon that taking prisoners was impractical. He supposed they only took this one because they wanted to negotiate for more energon. When Warpath thought of it that way, that made him realize this could be someone important.

What if he was guarding a member of the elite trine? What if it was Blitzwing, or a member of Devastator? His imagination toyed with him until he finally made it to the isolation cell at the end of the room. He would finally peer in and see for himself who was important enough to capture.

He looked inside, and saw a seeker that was dark blue with black and yellow accents. The seeker still had many injuries, but he was patched up well. Warpath was sure this seeker looked familiar, and when the pitiful creature turned to face him that was when he realized who was sitting in front of him behind the steel door...

"Deathwind?" Warpath gasped in muted shock.

"Warpath?" Deathwind rasped weakly, "I thought you died vorns ago."

Yes, it was Deathwind, one of the members of Air Warrior's old trine. Warpath remembered only meeting this mech once; at the reading of Air Warrior's will. While Sunstorm had been the most memorable member of the group for his insanity and wit, Deathwind was remembered by Warpath as a fastidious and uptight mech that was afraid of being alone.

"Are you here to rescue me?" Deathwind asked hopefully.

Oh, right. The last time they met Warpath was a Decepticon. It seemed like two lifetimes ago, and yet at the same time like yesterday. Deathwind had such a look of hope and gratitude on his faceplate. How could Warpath tell him he was there to make sure he stayed behind that cell like a bird in a cage? Instead, he bought himself some time by saying...

"You know, 15 orns ago was WHAM Nominus 16th."

"Nominus 16th?" Deathwind asked in confusion before exclaiming, "Ah, yes! Nominus 16th. The orn that Air Warrior was killed in battle. Such a tragedy. You know, things were never quite the same after he died. 2 vorns later Sunstrom declared to me that since we weren't a trine anymore there was no reason for us to remain brothers, so he broke the trine bond with me and went off on his own. I've been alone ever since. Oh, I tried to find a new trine, but I'm simply too old to offer anything to the younger ones, and I have no sigma ability to make myself useful in battle. I put myself out into the battlefield each day, but there no longer seems to be a reason why. I'm just killing Autobots and waiting to die."

Warpath felt he could relate to what Deathwind was saying. Warpath had been exactly the same way when he was a Decepticon. That was before he met his friends and before he had discovered that there actually could be hope for the future of Cybertron. He just wanted so badly to give that same hope to Deathwind. Maybe he still could...

"You know Deathwind, if you joined the Autobots things could be different for you. Better," Warpath said gently.

"Join the Autobots!?" Deathwind scoffed, "Why would I even-? Hey wait, what happened to your optics? Oh, slag! They're blue! Oh, holy pit! You're an Autobot now, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Warpath replied without shame, "I know we're ZAM losing, but things are better for the Autobots anyway. We're POW happy. We have friends, and are willing to BANG die for each other instead of kill each other to live. You're a good mech, Deathwind. I just want you to BOOM have that too."

"You're a traitor," Deathwind spat; his voice like ice running down Warpath's fuel lines, "I should kill you and accept whatever punishment I get for it. I should pull out your neck cables right now. I should, but I won't. I just don't see the point anymore."

"So, um...Why did they POP capture you anyway?" Warpath asked, "What are we trading for?"

"You don't know?" Deathwind asked in astonishment, "I thought you were one of them! Oh, well. It's of little consequence if you know or not. I am to stand trial under the magistrate Ultra Magnus for assassinating Rho Duon, the brother of Alpha Trion. I will be executed for my actions, there is no doubt about that. I did it for the glory, but I suppose that is of no consequence now either."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Deathwind," Warpath whispered as he placed his helm on the door, "I wish there was WHOOSH something I could do."

"Air Warrior used to talk about you all the time," Deathwind said wistfully; not looking at Warpath but rather the wall to his right, "He said you helped him feel less nervous around other people. He also said you used to paint the back of his wings where he couldn't reach. He wouldn't let me do that for him, even though I was a skilled painter. I used to be jealous of you...I used to wish I could connect to Air Warrior the way you did. Sometimes I think he was a grounder that was accidentally born with wings. I wasn't exactly kind to him, I'll admit, but it wasn't because I didn't care. I just didn't know how to talk to someone as sensitive as Air Warrior. As it turns out, sometimes I can be sensitive too. I don't know why you joined those Autobot slaggers, but I'm glad you survived this long. At least someone will remember Air Warrior besides me. I even think Sunstorm forgot him. Sunstorm was never very stable."

"I know," Warpath replied with a sad expression on his faceplate, "Deathwind...I don't want Air Warrior to die."

"What are you talking about? He died over 700 vorns ago," Deathwind replied disdainfully.

"I know, but if he's forgotten then he really and truly is BAM dead," Warpath replied, "I don't want that to happen. I...I'm willing to CRASH let you go, if you promise to not attack us anymore."

"I can't do that!" Deathwind exclaimed vehemently, "A Decepticon that disobeys is a dead Decepticon! I'd have to turn neutral, go rogue, and leave Cybertron! I don't think I'm strong enough to live on my own."

"Don't you see?" Warpath practically pleaded, "We're all that's left of Air Warrior! If you ZOWEE die, and if I die, then Air Warrior dies too."

"Then let me go," Deathwind replied sternly as he glared at Warpath, "You have a choice to make, Autobot. Allow me to return to my life and my duty, or sacrifice Air Warrior's memory on behalf of your Prime. You have to live with whatever choice you make. So, can you live with my execution or not?"

Warpath was stunned. He knew Deathwind was trying to play games with his processor. He knew the opportunistic seeker was merely using him, and might even kill Warpath if he released him. The problem was that Warpath actually agreed with him. It would be disloyal to Air Warrior to choose Optimus Prime over one of his late friend's trine brothers. In the end it was a difficult choice, but one that Warpath felt he had to make.

He turned away from Deathwind, and the seeker scowled at being left in the cell. That look changed, however, when Warpath returned with the key to the cell door!

"Warpath...Maybe there's some Decepticon left in you after all," Deathwind said approvingly.

Warpath then opened the door, and Deathwind carefully stepped around the angry looking tank-former.

"Just get out," Warpath growled, "I don't wanna see your FRAG faceplate here ever again."

Deathwind nodded solemnly and then transformed; his jet mode knocking Warpath back against the wall as the thrusters let out a powerful burst!

Warpath stayed there in the open cell against the wall for several breems before anyone came down to see if he was alright. Warpath wasn't injured, but he faked being dazed so everyone would think Deathwind overpowered him. Two of his teammates helped him up and walked with him to the medbay.

Beachcomber was out scavenging for spare parts for the rest of the team to use. He was often sent out to search for tools, minerals, and other pieces of scrap because of his advanced sensors. He also enjoyed getting out of the base on a nonviolent excursion. As much as Beachcomber loved 'Bots and animals, he also enjoyed having some time alone.

He was collecting some shards of metal into his subspace when he heard the sound of a cannon go off! He ducked into a trench, thinking he was caught in a Decepticon sneak attack. He realized that wasn't the case when he heard a very familiar voice yell "Aw, fraggit! That was my last BLAM sabot round!"

Beachcomber popped his helm out of the ground like a rodent and looked for Warpath. His scanners showed that Warpath was just outside one of the underground energon storage areas. Beachcomber walked over to see what Warpath was doing, and he came across his friend sitting on the ground holding a mostly empty cube of high-grade.

"Warpath, have you lost it, mech?" Beachcomber exclaimed, "Drinkin' that much high-grade means you'll lose your rations for the next three orns!"

"I don' care," Warpath slurred as he blearily stared up Beachcomber, "My tool-tolwrench is very low right...now."

"You mean tolerance?" Beachcomber offered, "I can see that, brother."

"Yeah, a couple more 'a these should kill me quite nicely," Warpath said with wry joy, "Then my rations will *hic* go to more BLAST deserving Autobots."

"You need to stop drinkin' that," Beachcomber said firmly as he gently pried the cube out of Warpath's servo, "We gotta get you to a medic. Your tanks can't handle all that after a near starvation diet."

"Hey, gibbit back!" Warpath tried to reach for the cube, but his movements were too slow for him to actually grab anything, "I want that! Jus' let me POW go!"

"Warpath, what is this about?" Beachcomber asked as he grabbed Warpath's face and forced the tank to look him in the visor, "So a prisoner escaped on your watch. So what? It wasn't your fault. We still need you, Warpath. You're a good Autobot, and you're one of my best friends."

"Stop it! Just stop it! You're torturing me!" Warpath screamed as coolant started to run down his optics and onto his face mask, "Don't you BANG see? I did it! I let him go! I just...I SLAM can't do this anymore! I moved on! I have f-f-friends, and Moonracer, and I work for the FRAG Prime! I don't deserve any of it! I'm a monster! I killed so many Autobots, and I...I...ZOW, I wasn't there when he died!"

"When who died?" Beachcomber asked gently, holding Warpath's servo in both of his to comfort him.

"Air Warrior!" Warpath sobbed, "He was my ZOOM best friend...my only friend. How can Decepticons be evil? How can I CRASH fight them, when I used to be one? When Air Warrior used to be one? This is my first POW high grade in 80 vorns. I was a pretty bad ethanolic when I was a 'Con. I wanna be better, but I don't know if I ZAP deserve it. I've ruined so many lives. I don't know how to be anything else now. I'm broken! Air Warrior wouldn't even POP recognize the mech I've become. We never liked battle, but had to fight to survive. Now I look forward to it, because it's all I'm CLICK good at. You shouldn't be my friend. You'll only get hurt."

Beachcomber just sat in silence with Warpath for a few breems as Warpath continued to cry himself sober. Every now and then Beachcomber would pat Warpath's servo and nod when Warpath spoke.

"Warpath, just because you found a better life doesn't mean you've abandoned your friend," Beachcomber finally said after Warpath had quieted down, "Air Warrior probably would've become an Autobot right with you, if he had all the facts. He cared about you, and would want you to be happy. I bet he'd love meetin' all your new friends if he was here now. Hey, do you think he would've liked Moonracer?"

"He saw her at the WHAM bar when I first met her," Warpath replied; his mood already improving, "He said he didn't date grounders. I think he was just too BAM nervous to go talk to her. Probably for the best. She would've killed him."

"Do you think he'd get along with anyone here on base?" Beachcomber asked to encourage Warpath to talk.

"Yeah, he would've liked Perceptor," Warpath speculated, "Though Perceptor likes MASH textbooks, and Air Warrior preferred fiction. He'd probably think Powerglide was the BOOM funniest thing to happen to the Autobots since Wheeljack. He's such a dopey looking flier!"

"Yeah, I'm sure I would've liked Air Warrior too," Beachcomber told him, "I've always thought you had good judge in character."

"Beachcomber? Is it okay if...?" Warpath had trouble finishing his thought, but then finally asked, "Is it okay that I WRECK won't ever feel the same way about you guys that I felt about Air Warrior? I'm not saying I like you less, but I..."

"I get it," Beachcomber nodded warmly, "No two friendships are the same. You can't expect them to be. I feel different ways about different friends too. I tell Seaspray most of my secrets because he can keep a secret. I talk to you the most because you're fun to talk to. I listen to Powerglide without sayin' much because he likes to talk and needs an audience. I listen to music with Jazz, talk about geology with Perceptor, play cards with Smokescreen, and explore the outside world with Hound. No two mechs are the same, and you can't expect to replace one friend with another. Each one is special."

"Yeah, I guess so," Warpath replied softly; no longer feeling guilty about it, "I used to listen more with Air Warrior than talk. He BANG liked to talk all the time. I wasn't as afraid to put myself out there as him, but I was BLOOEY young and stupid then. You're more confident than I am, so I like it when you bring your friends to meet me, so I don't have to WHOOSH start from scratch. I trust you more than Powerglide when it comes to secrets, but in battle I trust Seaspray and Powerglide more than you. Maybe...maybe it isn't wrong to move on."

Beachcomber smiled and stood up, then offered his servo to help Warpath up. Warpath dusted himself off as best he could, and then followed Beachcomber as he walked back to the base.

"You know Moonracer is gonna flip when she sees your energy pressure, right?" Beachcomber asked teasingly.

"Oh, fraggit!" Warpath cursed, "Oh well. You know of a JAM good I'm-sorry-I-got-drunk-off-my-aft-and-made-your-job-harder gift?"

The two 'Bots laughed at that one as they strolled back inside. Warpath still felt a little tipsy from the high-grade, and he knew his hangover and subsequent reduced rations would ruin the next couple orns. He knew he messed up (twice) but at least he had finally done something he should've done vorns ago; actually get the grief he felt over his friend off his chassis.

Two vorns later a secret project that had begun many vorns ago was finally completed. Warpath learned about it the same way the other low ranking soldiers learned about it; through a meeting with Optimus Prime.

"I have very important news to tell you all," Optimus Prime intoned as he stood before the assembled Autobots, "After vorns of effort from our construction team, a ship has been built that will take us beyond our world to find new sources of energon. This ship is called: Project Ark."

There were murmurs in the crowd, some astonished, some skeptical, and some hopeful.

"Since the Decepticons must not learn of our plan, we will leave in two orns," The Prime continued, "Most of us will be on that ship. Only a skeleton crew will remain on Cybertron to maintain an Autobot presence. It has also been agreed that the femmes should stay behind to assist Alpha Trion. If the Decepticons capture the Ark, then we do not want them harming those among us that can ensure the future of Cybertron. Alpha Trion holds the key to Vector Sigma, and Elita One and her femme brigade hold the ability to merge sparks with mechs to create sparklings. Megatron would stop at nothing to destroy either. Prowl has issued a special notice on your duty rosters to let you know if you are going to board the Ark or stay behind. You have two orns to pack anything you deem necessary for the trip. The future of Cybertron rests with us. Dismissed."

Warpath and the other minibots with him wasted no time logging on to see if they were going to be on the Ark. All of them were! Warpath smiled beneath his face mask for a moment, but then he suddenly realized something. The femmes were staying on Cybertron. That meant Moonracer was staying too.

Warpath, Perceptor, Hound, Trailbreaker, and Seaspray all diligently packed their things and talked about the possibilities. Hound was the most enthusiastic about leaving because he loved to explore. Seaspray and Trailbreaker likewise looked forward to exploring new worlds, and Perceptor was cautiously optimistic about the new life forms and microbes they might encounter.

"I hope this planet has water or oil to swim in," Seaspray commented as he stuffed data pads into his subspace, "I get so sick of being left behind because my alt mode only works on liquid surfaces."

"I hope there are intelligent organics," Hound gushed, "I love it when I get to meet new life forms. You know, sometimes I wish I was born an organic."

"Yeah, they are pretty great," Seaspray agreed, "Not nearly as clumsy as I am. Seriously, who thought building a mech with rubber feet was a good idea?"

"Whoever built you in Vector Sigma," Trailbreaker chuckled.

Warpath wasn't really listening as they spoke. Warpath knew he would ruin the mood if he said anything. He knew he should be happy to finally leave this overcrowded room and have his own quarters on the Ark, but he didn't want to leave Moonracer behind. Still, he knew he had to go. Duty was more important than the happiness of one mech. Their planet needed every Autobot it could get to protect the freedom of all sentient beings, and Warpath knew he had a part to play.

After Warpath was sure he had everything he needed, he decided to go to the rec room for some energon. He knew he should be helping with loading the energon stores, but he also felt that he just needed a moment to himself.

He sat there for a few breems drinking low-grade before a welcome visitor pulled him from his thoughts.

"Hey Warpath, this seat taken?" Moonracer asked as she approached him.

"Never," Warpath replied warmly before getting up and pulling out her chair, "I was just BLAM thinking."

"Yeah, me too," Moonracer replied sadly, "Elita's taking this really hard. I think she might try to board the ship."

"Why?" Warpath asked, "Isn't she POUND in charge of Cybertron while we’re gone?"

"Yes, but she doesn't want Optimus to leave without her," Moonracer replied, "They have been bonded for as long as the war has been going on. Maybe longer. I can't imagine what they must be going through. I've never had a relationship stable enough for those kinds of feelings."

"I have," Warpath said tenderly, "Because that's how I WHOOSH feel about you. I wish I could just pack you in my subspace and POW take you with me."

Moonracer laughed softly and squeezed his servo. She leaned into his frame, and Warpath held her there. He wished he could freeze time in this moment. He knew Elita One had the ability to freeze time, and he wondered if she would do that if Optimus was holding her at this exact same moment. He sighed, knowing this would eventually end, and decided there was something he had to get off his chest plate.

"Moonracer, this mission is dangerous," Warpath stated.

"Nothing the best team on Cybertron can't handle," Moonracer replied encouragingly.

"Sweet spark, if something BOOM happens to me..." Warpath exhaled before continuing, "...If I die, then I want you to WHAM find someone else to make you happy."

"What?" Moonracer exclaimed as she pushed herself away from his hold to look him in the optic.

"I want you to move on if I don't come back," Warpath repeated, "Moonracer, I love you. I don't want you to be ZAP unhappy. I figure we need to have this talk, so you POP know my feelings on this. I would rather you be happy than not, so don't wait for me if you think I'm ZOOM dead."

"You'll come back, I know you will," Moonracer said with conviction, "And I'll wait. You should know better than to think I could forget you that easily. I'll tell you what, for a little added incentive, when the Autobots return victorious and you come back, we can bond with each other."

"Really?" Warpath asked, and Moonracer nodded, "Wow, I wish I was as PEW sure about things as you are. You can make me believe anything."

"You're lucky I don't use my powers for evil," Moonracer joked as she winked at Warpath, "Now, you'd better get to the store room. Every set of servos counts. Time is very short right now, and we have to get the Ark out of here before the Decepticons find out about this. Now, you need to-"

Before Moonracer could finish her thought, however, a blaring klaxon wailed throughout the base!

"What the-!" Warpath snapped worriedly.

"It's an intruder alarm!" Moonracer hollered, "The 'Cons know we're here! You have to get to the ship now!"

"But Moonracer-,"

"Go!"

Warpath ran out of the room and Moonracer took out her pistol before following him. Together they ran through the darkened halls. The power had been cut, and they knew the Decepticons were to blame. The Ark was in the distance, and many Autobots were scrambling to get inside. Seekers shot at escaping Autobots, and Moonracer started shooting back at them. Warpath made it to the ramp and saw that a seeker was about to use a cluster bomb on Moonracer, but she was too distracted to see it! Warpath aimed his cannon, shot the seeker out of the sky, and then ran inside the Ark so he wouldn't prevent anyone behind him from boarding.

Optimus Prime stood at the entrance like a protective school teacher making sure everyone got inside before he went in himself. In that moment Warpath got the feeling Prime actually was a good leader.

Warpath ran deep into the ship with the other lower ranking Autobots, and the last thing he heard was Prime screaming Elita's name. He knew that scream could only mean something terrible had happened.

Shortly after that the Ark took off. The Decepticon seekers tried to pursue, but their speed and strength was no match for a spaceship. For the moment, the Autobots had won the day and they were headed to parts unknown. Warpath only hoped that Moonracer survived the battle.

They had been traveling for 10 joors aboard the Ark. Warpath stood in one of the spacious hallways and looked out the window. This ship was far grander than anything he thought they could put together, and he was impressed with how much space there was on this vessel. Of course, there needed to be. There were nearly a hundred mechs on board.

He looked out at the stars. From this distance they looked so unassuming, and yet each one was a burning bonfire many times the size of Cybertron. The expanse made what they were doing seem so...small.

Beachcomber sauntered down the hall and stopped when he saw Warpath staring out the window. Warpath took a moment before he acknowledged his friend's presence, but then smiled with his optics at the blue minibot.

"The universe is a beautiful cosmic wonder, ain't it brother?" Beachcomber asked in awe, "I wonder what kind of planet we'll land on."

"Do you think it was the right thing to CLACK leave the femmes behind?" 

"I don't know," Beachcomber shrugged, "I do know it seemed like the least dangerous option at the time. Honestly I think there are some mechs on board this ship that should've stayed behind for their own protection. Like Gears. He ain't made for this kind of exploration."

"Neither are you," Warpath pointed out, "This mission might involve fighting BANG Decepticons. I know you. You'd rather make peace than fight, but they won't give you that option."

"You did," Beachcomber retorted, "There's hope for everyone, Warpath. Now, do I think all of Megatron's forces are gonna give up and play nice with us? No, I don't. However, some might. There's hope for everyone. Until our world is united again, I just have to do what I can to look out for my friends. Say, you wanna go to the rec room and see what some of the other Autobots are doin'?"

"Sure," Warpath said with a smile beneath his mask, "That sounds POW fantastic."

Warpath followed Beachcomber to the rec room and began to think about the journey it took to get him from where he was before to where he found himself in this moment. He wasn't a young 'Bot anymore, but he felt younger when he considered the possibilities out there and the future that could await him. He thought about finding energon. He thought about all the friends he'd be traveling with. He thought about returning home to Moonracer. He thought about Decepticons that might yet give up the cause of tyranny. When these thoughts mixed together, they were sweeter than any high-grade, because these thoughts equaled peace.

The End