Here is Chapter Twelve!

Note: I realize that the previous chapter was not my best work, and I apologize for that. Hopefully, this will be better!

Also, Soundwave uses recordings to speak, but I am still deciding whether or not I will make him mute. Ellipses (...) represent static and tildes (~) are when he changes voices in the recordings he uses.

Regarding the poll on my profile: I have changed the choices. The question is still the same (Should I make a horror story with Deathstrike and the Autobots or Deathstrike and the Decepticon?), but now the choices are Autobots, Decepticons, both, or neither. I now realize that the others kind of made no sense...my bad. :/

Please vote, and enjoy the story!

All was quiet on the Nemesis. The silence was almost palpable, hanging over everything in a lackadaisical way as if it had nothing better to do with its dull and inanimate life. The ship rumbled contentedly as it hovered in the air, massive engines growling and reverberating through the vast open space provided around it.

Starscream stood in the docking bay, wings lowered in a neutral position and twitching every other moment as the sensor-laden panels focused on the churning soup known as the Earth sky and on any organic, flight-capable life that happened to pass by. The large panel of worn metal was the place he was normally able to be found at when he wanted to clear his processor or just vent in solitude.

"Lord Starscream." A deep voice sounded behind him, rumbling and rasping to give the sense that the owner was exhausted.

The Seeker flared his wings, releasing a deep vent. "Longscar. What is it?"

The quiet twin stood a respectful distance from the former Air Commander, wings held in a position that did not reveal his current emotions if he had any. It was something the entire crew doubted, although he occasionally displayed concern and aggression when his brother was threatened, harmed, or insulted in any way, shape, or form. The entirety of the Decepticon army knew never to mess with the elder twin unless they wanted to be less of a body part or to be subjected to the most painful torture possible. While it was known that Longscar possessed little to no emotional programming, he was one of the most skilled and feared Decepticon interrogators in Cybertronian history, and even though one might need the permission of whoever was in charge at the time, be it Megatron, Starscream, or Soundwave, there was hardly a time when either of the three officers disregarded his abilities or requests to punish the fool dimwitted enough to harm his twin.

Next to the mysterious black mech, his brother appeared, his powerful wings fanning the air in an undiscernable emotion. They seemed to exchange a silent message through their familial sparkbond before they both turned to face the higher ranking Seeker.

"Soundwave has information regarding the assassin from his partner." Longscar spoke, his deep and rumbling voice so similar to that of the thunder the earth storms presented.

"He believes that you will benefit from such information," Blackstand finished.

It was at that moment Starscream decided to turn, only to come face-to-visor with a looming slim black and purple mech, one who was too close for comfort.

"Soundwave!" The silver mech narrowed his optics, claws curling into fists even as they sharpened in his agitation, drawing thin trickles of Energon from the sensitive metal of his palms. "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?"

Longscar and Blackstand glanced at each other, while the faceless assassin merely tilted his helm and played an audio feed.

"Commander, this is Breakdown, but I am sure you already know that." The leviathan of a mech's voice rumbled through the dangerous and dark mech's speakers, reverberating throughout the area. "We have obtained the Harvester, but Deathstrike is gravely ill and injured, enough that he can't transform. He had tried to contact you earlier, but something was jamming Soundwave's encrypted frequencies and the static interference with his processor nearly made him go berserker insane...or more than he already was at the moment. If you get my point, we are requesting an immediate ground bridge."

Starscream growled, wings flaring in his rising irritation as he realized what Breakdown was saying to him and him only. He absolutely had to get this situation contained before suspicions arose. He snarled lowly, his streamlined armor shifting over his frame. "When was this received?" he hissed to the spy.

Soundwave remained silent and motionless as the tawny rays given off by the Earth's sun glinted off of his featureless face. The smooth metal seemed to become darker in the supposedly heavenly light, and the dark assassin gave the impression that he was staring at Starscream.

Blackstand piped up, his massive wings twitching as his crimson optics flashed with a suddenly amused light. "It was one point two five joors before now, sir."

Blazing scarlet optics narrowed, moving from the twin to the master spy as the silver Seeker gave a dangerous snarl. "And why have you not activated the portal?"

A huge yet thin bladed servo rose, and Soundwave made a slicing movement across his narrow chest as a static-laced sentence hissed from his external speakers. "You are to...report any...~thing you receive in a transmission to me immediately and wait for my approval. Is this...~clear, Soundwave?"

Starscream rolled his optics in an exasperated fashion, forcing himself to bite back his irritated sigh. Of course Soundwave would put his code of conduct above the welfare of his faction. "You were waiting for my approval, were you not?" A deep vent of heated air left the heeled Seeker as the spy remained silent. "Very well. Let them aboard."

The slim purple and black mech nodded sharply, initiating the controls and programs that were connected to his processor. After a moment of silence, the bridge appeared with a content and deep whir and the silhouettes of two mechs appeared.

But there was more to their appearance than they would ever know to understand.

"They aren't answering, and this is the fourth time I have tried!" Breakdown whirled around, pure and unadulterated rage in his smoldering yellow glare, one that was increasing in feral brutality by the nanosecond. "I know that they are there; we both do! Slaggit, it's Soundwave who is Head of Communications!"

The assassin, who was once again leaning against the slab of concrete he had been on earlier, gave a hoarse vent that ended in harsh coughing and a pained grimace. Just calm down, Breakdown. You know as well as I that they will answer soon enough. He shifted, baring his fangs in a seemingly irritated snarl. And cease your incessant pacing; you are only making my processor ache worse. The winged mech seemed to have regained a bit of his normal overpowering and dark strength, enough that his mental voice was slightly stronger than it had been a mere half joor ago. It still was not enough to please his partner, however, and the irritation that rose deep within the assassin was proof that Breakdown never really stopped worrying about him.

Breakdown narrowed his optics, looking ready to object until Deathstrike's crimson glare ceased all attempts. With a vent, the massive navy blue mech crossed his servos and glared at the out at the demolished ruins of what been the human museum. "Fine."

His attention was drawn back to his partner as he shuddered violently, wings rising in a sudden, jerking movement as they scraped harshly against the ice-cold and unforgiving material behind him. Breakdown was there in an instant to steady the assassin as powerful and frame-wracking coughs shook the other's lean chassis. As he made to move, however, the assassin snarled, shoving him away as he continued to cough violently.

"Deathstrike?" Breakdown narrowed his optics, not moving from his position next to his partner.

The matte black Seeker shook his helm, his ventilation mechanisms expelling a large amount of heated air in an attempt to cool his overheated systems. I...I cannot. Stay away. His optics flashed dangerously bright as his wings twitched erratically behind him. His ventilations were becoming heavier, hoarse and ragged, enough to make the heavier mech approach and ignore the warning rumbles of his companion's engines.

The navy blue Decepticon glared, his tawny optics blazing with a sudden irritation. His partner's voice had weakened again; he felt his worry increased once more. "Deathstrike, if you need to refuel again, I can help you."

No! The medic's reply was shockingly overwhelming, and the sudden surge of mental power had Breakdown's helm swimming for a moment as his equilibrium sensors and processor took a moment to stabilize themselves. Once he regained his bearings he saw that Deathstrike was staring at him with wide optics, a dark and maniacal, ravenous light blazing deep within their endless depths. I cannot take any more from you!

Breakdown narrowed his optics, his electromagnetic field clearly displaying his displeasure. "Well, I'm just not going to sit here and watch you suffer."

Deathstrike turned his helm to glare at the massive mech, his mouthplates curling back to bare his lengthening fangs in a feral snarl. You will suffer even more if I do take from you. He vented heavily, the action hoarse and grating and audio-splitting in its obvious pain, as he shuttered his optics. Breakdown, listen to me and do not interrupt me. I have limited energy.

"Fine." The navy blue leviathan leaned back, crossing his servos even as his defiance remained ever-present in his electromagnetic field. "Go ahead."

The assassin shifted, his wings scraping against the cement once more, harsh enough to make him flinch ever so slightly as the already frayed sensors were aggravated even more. My sanity is slowly slipping, and my hunger grows. I cannot restrain myself much longer. Should I... The matte black mech cut off suddenly, a violent tremor racking his lean and powerful frame, but he refused any form of assistance when the navy mech offered it and continued on once he regained his bearings.

...should I lose control of myself, I want you to assure me that you will not let me return to the warship. The only ones who know about my condition include you and Starscream, and Soundwave no doubt suspects something is off. Deathstrike grimaced as his talons raked through his makeshift berth, shaking his helm as if in distress. Breakdown, assure me that I will not make it back to the warship, as long as I am in this condition.

Breakdown narrowed his tawny gaze. "I cannot make you such promises," he began, raising a servo to stop the other from interrupting or protesting, knowing not to provoke the lightly slumbering beast, "But you know as well as I that I have to tell Starscream this."

What good will telling that pathetic Seeker do? Deathstrike hissed venomously, armor shifting like ink-stained water. He cannot help, not in any way.

A warning rumble came from deep within the leviathan's chassis as a strange emotion flashed in his blazing golden gaze. I don't know if you remember, but he actually confronted you when you changed on the warship and sedated you.

He did what? The assassin's annoyance reappeared, strong as ever as his optics blazed with a hellish light and his armor flared in unveiled aggression. Why did you not do so? You know as well as I that I could have terminated him.

I only didn't do it because you had inflicted so many wounds upon me that I could no longer think clearly. The navy mech narrowed his optics, the thick emotions in his field spiking. Energon deficiency does that to a mech if you didn't know.

Doing such a thing will not improve my feelings toward him. Deathstrike shuttered his optics, the slightest bit of tension leaving his frame as it began to relax ever so slightly. Do you wish for me to contact the warship?

Breakdown's optics widened as his engine stalled for a brief moment in shock. The emotion seemed to vanish too fast for the optic to catch up with, and the blue titan's engine growled in fury and distress. Can you do that? Are you sure it won't make you worse?

Deathstrike shifted, his olfactory sensors flaring as he intaked deeply. I cannot give promises, Breakdown. If there is a chance, however, that I can, then we should take it.

Are you certain that this will work? I will not let you injure yourself any further. Breakdown held his steady yellow stare, his defiance clear in the burning depths as he glared down at the other.

Breakdown, it is a risk that I am going to take, not you. Your opinion cannot sway mine. The enormous matte black mech shuttered his optics briefly before activating the communication link back to the warship.

The navy blue warrior shot forward to steady the assassin as black darted in and out of his vision, violent and unrelenting tremors racking the ice-cold and powerful body. In a flash, too fast for him to comprehend, Breakdown was pinned against the makeshift and ragged cement berth, Deathstrike looming over him as his fiery optics blazed with insanity untold and pure and unadulterated manic hunger. His elongated dentia were bared, and his talons tore through the other's armor in their ruthless grasp.

"Deathstrike..." Breakdown kept his voice low and even, aware that if he spoke any louder the beast would see it as a threat and would no doubt incapacitate him.

The assassin snarled viciously, his grip tightening so much that it crushed the heavier mech's thick armor. Breakdown remained motionless, not wanting to provoke his partner while at the same time not wanting to have to injure him or himself in any way. He had no more sedative and had not had it for a while, not since the Starscream incident in the assassin's lab, and there was a high probability that brute force would be needed to incapacitate the other. That is if sane reasoning did not work.

Suddenly the cold weight above him was relieved, and he cycled air throughout his frame to cool his systems. Breakdown could not help but wonder why the beast had relented under some unseen force, and he received his answer when his gaze locked onto his partner.

Deathstrike was farther away from him than he had been to begin with, leaning against the demolished remains of the human museum. Violent tremors racked his chassis as he cradled his helm in his shaking servos, his hoarse ventilations reaching his companion's audios. Dangerous heat radiated from the assassin's frame, circulating enough to gnaw at the edges of the navy blue mech's armor. In his weakened state, the assassin's telepathy was unrestrained, and Breakdown could hear every word and phrase that went through his processor, like a mantra...

I cannot. I cannot. I cannot. I cannot.

The assassin reeled further back as his inner voice snarled at him, baring its fangs as its claws tore through what little sanity he had left. His frame shuddered violently and he shook his helm, snarling softly as the aching fire tore its way up his throat. His olfactories flared against his will, and the overwhelming and oh so delicious scent of Energon filled his intakes. The black mech's engines rumbled threateningly as the beastly hunger rose deep within him, threatening to overwhelm everything else.

I cannot. I cannot. I will not.

Yes, you can. You are hungry...oh so hungry...

I will not! Deathstrike gave a rumbling snarl even as the acid fire clawed at his throat and intakes, the maniacal beast writhing in sadistic fury as the taunt of a fresh meal wavered in its grasp.

He is your prey...he will not fight you...he is weak and pathetic and oh so delicious...

No! I cannot hurt him! I will not hurt him!

His armor flared from his lean and powerful frame as razor-like pain roared throughout him. He could feel what remained of his sanity slipping, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his corrupt refuel protocols initiated and allowed the beast to take over everything.

You have no choice.

The navy blue warrior backed away ever so slightly as the assassin's telepathy relayed his vicious and Energon-thirsty thoughts back to him. He made sure to keep his distance, even as the matte black mech shuddered and went into another violent coughing fit.

Breakdown did not bother to hold back his slightly sympathetic grimace. He could only imagine what kind of pain, emotional and physical, that his partner was in.

Venting heavily, he turned away and put a digit to his communications link, aware of the burning crimson gaze carving its way into his back.

June Darby stifled a yawn as she drove in silence. She had been working a late shift, and it was well past the usual time that she arrived at home.

With a glance to the screen of her phone, with one eye on the road, she sent a quick text to Jack.

On my way home. Be sure to unlock the door.

She waited for a moment, in complete silence that excluded the drone of the engine of her car, for him to respond. She knew that her son was a light sleeper, and the slightest of noises could wake him up. He always had his phone on the nightstand beside his bed, the volume raised so that he could hear it, and she knew that he would respond in a matter of moments.

A minute passed.

He must be exhausted from work. He was dealing with all of those rude kids that come by and pester him.

Three and a half minutes.

He is asleep, deep in whatever the teenage boy dreams about. He is only tired, that's all. He's tired.

Five minutes.

He's tired.

That's all.

Nothing else.

Ten.

Her worry increased a thousandfold as she repeatedly glanced over at her phone. Its screen remained blank, and the notification light never sent its signal to alert its owner of a new message or alert.

Biting her lip, June made her decision as she reached over and dialed Jack's number. Realizing that her worry was going to affect her driving sooner than later, she pulled over and waited for the soothing rumble that was her son's voice.

Hey, it's Jack. You've reached my voicemail, as you can see...or hear. Leave a message on why you want to talk and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible.

Giving a heavy sigh, she ended the call and stared at her phone, as if a reply would magically appear on the small screen.

Her fingers were moving before she could stop them, and she dialed a number automatically.

The dial tone sounded for the slightest of moments, and then the thundering bass voice sounded.

"June." The grave timbre of the large mech shook her body, making her restrain the shudder that always seemed to rise whenever the massive alien spoke to her. As usual, his voice revealed nothing of his inner thoughts, and he sounded as carefully composed as he always did. "Is there something the matter?"

The enormous alien male seemed to be oblivious to her worry, even as she remained silent. Her son was not answering his phone, and the Autobot Commander did not even seem to know about it...

"Optimus." Her voice shook, and she took a moment to take a deep breath and calm her nerves. "Is Jack with you?"

There was a moment of nerve-wracking silence, and then the powerful otherworldly being responded. "Come to us, June. Do this as soon as you can; I am currently transmitting my coordinates. You must be here to witness this." There was a moment of silence, and the mech's voice sounded in a softer tone, comparable to that of a human turning away their phone to speak to someone else. "Contact Agent Fowler and bring him with you as soon as possible."

Before she could even formulate a response, the line cut off, and she was left staring in shock.

What in the world was going on?

All was eerily silent. It was a dark and cool night, the moon blazing high above the small organics, and everything was still and calm. It was a normal day in the local Jasper, Nevada hospital.

That being said, no being, whether live or inanimate, made a single noise. They were all wrapped in the blankets of sleep or mere boredom.

The silence was a poison that stained the benevolent appearance of the once peaceful and benevolent, comforting noiselessness.

Such softness was immediately destroyed as the roaring of five powerful engines tore through it.

The nurses and receptionists near the clear glass doors looked up at the noise. A huge red and blue semi-truck rolled to a stop, and it was flanked by a small blue motorcycle, a sleek black and yellow sports car, a red and white ambulance truck, and an all-terrain SUV. The ambulance's sirens were screaming at full volume, no doubt signifying that there was an injury of some sort.

On the semi, the cabin door hissed open and a figure stepped out. It was a very tall male, well over the average height, clad in black jeans and a black and red plaid shirt, with a muscular build and heavy military-grade boots. Shoulder-length black-brown hair framed his handsome face, and unnaturally bright blue eyes blazed out of the shadows masking his face. An aura of authority and power radiated around him, and his facial expression revealed nothing of the thoughts going on inside of his head.

A slim female dismounted the sleek motorcycle. She was dressed in leather pants and a dark blue shirt, complete with the leather jacket rested against her shoulders. She took off the helmet that she was currently wearing and revealed her hauntingly angelic face. Dark hair highlighted with the occasional blue or pink stripe framed her delicate face, and her eyes were narrow and slanted to an almost exotic shape, burning with clear dislike and concern.

The green SUV and the sports car opened their doors at the same time, the vehicles' brakes hissing as they locked into neutral. Out of the all-terrain truck, a tall and muscular male stepped out, dressed in a dark green shirt and camouflage pants with heavy duty and seemingly military-grade knee-high boots. His hard and chiseled face held a grave expression as well as the rather obvious hints of worry. Beside him, a shorter and leaner male stood, dressed in black and yellow, his dark golden hair sticking out at strange angles and his hands wringing together in obvious anxiety as his aquamarine eyes darted back and forth.

The ambulance gave one final wail before the siren cut off, and the back doors to the loading bay swung open. A tall, lean man exited the red and white vehicle. Dark, reddish-brown hair, long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail, flowed in hazardous locks around his face. Full lips were pulled back in an irritated snarl, and gleaming white teeth were bared as bright blue eyes burned with an intense fire.

A group of paramedics rushed out of the hospital, dressed in the usual long white coats, with gloves on their hands. The one at the head of the group, a man of medium height with dark eyes and a powerful yet relaxed stature, spoke up. "What seems to be the problem?"

The man that was in the ambulance fixed his blazing eyes on the one who had spoken. "We have three injured, and one is losing blood rapidly. We need immediate admission for them."

The dark-eyed man crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, but you need to either work here or have the clearance to be inside our hospital. You can't just show up and expect us to let you in." With a wave of his hand, he motioned to the rumbling ambulance. "Your ambulance isn't even from any of the areas near here. In fact, I don't even recognize it, and I've worked everywhere." His eyes narrowed. "Where are you even from?"

The taller red-haired man narrowed his unnervingly bright eyes as he seemed to radiate menacing fury. "Admission my aft; I'll give you something to gripe about, you no-good, slagging..." His hands clenched into fists as he loomed over the other, teeth bared in a snarl and eyes burning with a venomous fire.

"Raleigh, that is enough." The towering male that drove in with the semi truck stepped forward, the muscles in his powerful arms and legs rippling with each step.

The man designated Raleigh turned and scowled at him, his cerulean eyes burning with a dark and cold fury. "We don't have to take this, Orion. We have the clearance; you know that."

The larger man's eyes flickered at the name, yet the humans did not see it. "But we do have manners, old friend. They are offering help."

Raleigh scoffed, crossing his arms as he glared down at the smaller men. "Are they, now?" His dark eyes bored into the paramedics. "It sure doesn't seem like that."

Before anyone could respond, the sound of yet another engine and squealing tires filled the air. A dark gray car sped into the arc-shaped parking lot of the hospital, screeching to a stop. The engine shut off and the doors were thrown open. An African-American man of medium height with graying dark hair stepped out, and following him was a tall and slim woman with long dark hair and wide gray-blue eyes dressed in long teal-green hospital garb.

The head paramedic scowled. "Did I miss the notice that we would have visitors today?" He fixed his bottomless eyes on the dark-skinned man. "Just who in the world are you?"

The man stalked towards him with such a sudden menace and irritation that it made the other move back slightly. Reaching into his back pocket, the dark man pulled out his wallet and flashed a badge. "Special Agent William Fowler. These men are with the military, and they have people who need urgent medical attention."

"We can't just let anyone in," the paramedic countered, seeming to grow irritated. "Why can't you understand that?"

The tall and slim woman stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips and leaning down to glare at the uncooperative doctor. "You don't seem to understand the meaning of Special Agent, do you?" She frowned and leaned even closer, enough to invade the other's personal space by much more than a margin. "It means that we can have one of the most powerful and influential United States Generals breathing down your neck every minute and every second of the day. He will watch your every move until this is approved, no matter how long it takes, and he will certainly not care whether you like it or not." She narrowed her eyes and poked the man in the chest with a nail that gave the impression of impersonating a talon. "So I suggest that you get over your ridiculous protocol and let us in."

The paramedic stared in shock at the larger human, seeming to grow irritated, before he relented with a sigh. "Very well." He waved his hand and the other paramedics rushed forward. "Listen closely. We have three injured, which means that I need three stretchers and a clear pathway to allow all of these men, and their woman, into our hospital. You have two minutes. Understood?"

They nodded and rushed away with the elder man trailing after them, shouting orders to the men now rushing around him and from the hospital doors.

The Autobots, Agent Fowler, and June were all left to watch.

"I never knew that humans could be such glitches." Bulkhead suddenly spoke up, a slight scowl on his face. "I don't think I've ever wanted to crush a human so badly."

Fowler gave a rare smirk, nodding at June. "Who would have known June could be so intimidating."

... ... ...

"Clear the way! I need complete space!"

The nurses and doctors that lingered in the halls turned at the sound of the urgent and authoritative voice. The head doctor and paramedic, a dark-eyed and irascible man known as Haydn Foxe, was making his way down the hall as he pushed an occupied stretcher. On the portable medical bed was a tall and long-limbed teen. His skin was deathly pale and his dark hair stuck to his face as it was drenched with a cold sweat. His right arm was twisted into a gruesome and bloodcurdling position, enough for the bone to stick out of the unnatural angle. A makeshift tourniquet was over most of the wound, while most of the blood had seeped into the young man's shirt and onto the stark white sheets beneath him.

Behind him were the other two paramedics, who were each rolling am occupied stretcher. One carried a young female a year or two younger than the taller, severely injured teenager, while the other had a young and short boy with oversized glasses and spiked brown-red hair. Both of them were unconscious, and each possessed numerous scrapes and gashes on their bodies.

Orion, Raleigh, Fowler, June, and the rest of the Autobots trailed behind, concern clear in their tense stances. Raleigh was taking in as much as he could, no doubt for emergency human medical purposes later, yet he somehow managed to do all of this while sending the humans in his vicinity cold glares.

"Raleigh, they aren't going to do anything to you." Fowler moved closer to the taller male, aware of the dark and brooding irritation that was radiating off of him. "They don't even know you aren't real."

Cerulean eyes, burning with a cold fire, locked onto the darker ones of the shorter human. "I would love to see any one of them try to find out if I am real."

The head doctor in front of them turned a sharp corner, as well as the other two, into a section labeled Critical Care. The doors swung open and another man appeared. He was nearly as tall as Orion, with hazel eyes and a nearly emotionless expression that carved through the bangs that covered his eyes. Beside him stood a short and petite woman with the faintest traces of a smile threatening to appear on her mouth as she put on her surgical mask and gloves.

The paramedic gave a respectful nod to the elder man. "Doctor Richards. This young man needs immediate -"

"- I am well aware of what this young man needs, and he would have received it sooner had you not been the fool you were and took up my precious time." The higher-ranking doctor crossed his arms and glared with a cold fury that rivaled that of a certain alien medic, his voice stained with a distinct British accent.

"I apologize, sir. It won't happen again." The paramedic stuttered in something that was either fear or anger, and gave the stretcher over to the other man; his followers handed over their children to the short woman, who turned them and took them into the room.

"I'm the mother of the oldest." June spoke up, fixing her intense stare on the amber-eyed doctor. "I need to know what you are going to do to my son."

Doctor Richards turned to the woman, his face still eerily devoid of emotion. "This is the Critical Care section of the hospital, where we take severely ill and injured—"

"—I know what the Critical Care members do; if you can't tell, I am a nurse." The woman crossed her arms and glared at the taller man.

Slanted amber eyes blazed with a sudden light. "Your son is in need of stitches and possible surgery to repair his wound."

"Then we will stay to watch." Orion spoke up, his rumbling baritone voice sending a shudder through all of those close to him.

Richards turned his exotic eyes to the towering man, seemingly about to protest before Fowler flashed his military-issued badge and leaned close to the man.

"I can have you arrested for disobeying one of the most powerful men in the United States military if you continue to give him that look."

The doctor pressed his lips together before turning to allow them entrance. "Very well."

As the disguised Autobots entered the dimly lighted room, the red-haired man snarled at him.

"Dumb aft humans."

Richards decided that he did not really know what to say to that.

"Starscream."

The Seeker's optics widened as the rumbling voice of the navy blue leviathan sounded in his helm. With a glance to the ever-watching Soundwave and to the strange Seeker twins, he turned away and crossed his servos.

"Breakdown. The portal is open." He kept his voice a low murmur as his burning crimson glare swept over the land and the faint and haunted green lights of the ground bridge scattered their long and spindly fingers over the ship's deck. "Where are you?"

There was a moment of silence in which a muffled curse could be heard, and then the warrior responded. "We are still at the organic museum. But we cannot come through just yet."

The Decepticon snarled softly, his wings fanning the air in his rising irritation. "Is there a reason as to why you cannot come through?"

He knew that Breakdown was scowling as the silence returned for the slightest moment, tenser than before and stained with the deceptive hint of menace. "Deathstrike has lost control and become feral. You know as well as I that we cannot allow him onto the warship." His voice deepened a few octaves, and Starscream knew that Breakdown's expression was grave and controlled despite the storm of emotions that had to be inside of him.

At that statement, the slim silver mech's wings twitched and flared, rising high on his backstrut. "Did you not think to allow him to refuel before the mission? Did you know that this was bound to happen?" The Seeker narrowed his optics to dangerous slits. "Do you know how much danger we are all in now that your partner has given into his homicidal urges?"

"I know what I didn't do, Starscream, so cease your incessant whining and just listen for once!" The powerful mech snarled at him through their communications link, menace clear in his thunder-like voice.

There was a stretched moment of noiselessness, and Breakdown took the time to recollect himself; he was painfully aware of the fact that that the irascible Seeker would no doubt enforce his newly acquired authority and have him scrubbing the docking bay for quartexes. "Do you have any more of the sedative on you?"

Scowling at the twins and the spy as their curiosity was piqued, the silver mech hissed as he turned and made his way back into the warship, lingering in the darkened corridors. His presence automatically made the Vehicons that were conversing quietly among their ranks immediately scamper away. "No, I do not. The last time I used it was when—"

"-—when you took care of Deathstrike the last time, I know." Breakdown's voice was an irritated rumble, reverberating throughout the processor of the other.

It was then that the Decepticon lord heard the pained undertone in the leviathan's voice.

He slowed his pacing, his wings lowering ever so slightly on his back. "Breakdown. Are you injured?"

Silence answered him, and for a moment, Starscream believed that his communications link had been tampered with by Soundwave. The quietness spread between the two until the leviathan finally responded. "Define injured. I seem to have forgotten what it means."

"Breakdown, you can be such a Primus-forsaken fool sometimes!" The Seeker snarled at him, dentia bared despite the fact that he was alone. His talons sharpened and lengthened in their agitation as he shook his helm in irritation. "You let him attack you? Did you even think of defending yourself?"

"Watch your tone, Seeker." Breakdown rumbled at him, his powerful engine growling ominously. "Unlike you, I actually care for those that I work with."

Starscream snarled venomously, wings rising higher on his back. "That was a long time ago, leviathan, and I would watch your tone. I am still your superior."

"Oh, stop playing the rank card! You act like such a high and mighty glitch! How does anything even get through that thick and conceited processor of yours?"

The Seeker's optics burned with a furious and lethal fire. "We were well acquainted before the start of the Great War, and you know that. Long before you intervened and made matters worse."

Breakdown growled ominously. "You played no part in improving his condition. I see no reason for your anger."

Starscream flexed his talons, as if he were eager to tear into the unseen mech's chest armor. "You slag-eating, ungrateful little -!"

The communication link was severed suddenly from an outside source. Snarling in pure and unadulterated irritation, the Seeker whirled around, only to come face-to-visor with Soundwave.

"Soundwave." The Seeker flared his wings as he looked up at the tall and dark mech. "Are you not supposed to be waiting for Deathstrike and Breakdown on the docking bay?"

The master assassin played an audio feed in response. "Deathstrike has lost control and has become feral. You know as well as I that we cannot allow him onto the warship." Breakdown's rumbling voice sounded through the slim mech's external speakers.

Starscream hesitated ever so slightly as the slim yet extremely powerful mech leaned closer, clearly demanding an answer.

Fear and shock overwhelmed the silver mech before his scowl reappeared and fell back into place. "You will not be privy to such sensitive information unless I deem that you are capable of handling it." He snarled as he stalked past the taller mech, towards the end of the hall, before he stopped and looked over his shoulder panel. "You are supposed to be watching the ground bridge and awaiting the arrival of Deathstrike and Breakdown, are you not?" With a heavy vent, Starscream raised his wings ever so slightly and continued on, "Deathstrike and Breakdown require my assistance and my assistance only with something, and I expect to enter that ground bridge alone." His mouthplates curled back into snarl as he turned fully to glare at the former gladiator. "Do I make myself clear?"

The menacing aura surrounding the dark mech flared, its spindly fingers tracing over the edges of both of their armor, before he gave a slow nod and moved past the other, out onto to docking bay.

Starscream gave the other a pointed glare before entering the roaring portal.

It was a scene of destruction.

What remained of the surprisingly imposing human facility was in mere ruins. The building was barely standing, and its remains were either crushed or strewn across the abandoned parking lot. Chunks of cement and mortar were piled in a manner that similar to that of the corpses scattered across a decimated battlefield.

Wings rising high on his back, the Seeker increased his proximity scanner range as he made his way through the debris. His crimson optics burned as he took in the remains of some lone organic that had been caught and destroyed by whatever had done this, the tiny being's flesh charred and crushed and its filthy organic blood pouring out around him. He was clad in what seemed to be an authoritative suit of some sorts, or what remained of it.

Starscream scoffed and rolled his optics, his wings rising and falling with his disgusted ventilations. He went on to continuing his search.

When he came around the corner of the crumbling, what he saw startled him enough to make him freeze in his tracks.

Deathstrike was there, crouched over a massive and immobile object. His wings were raised high behind him, the powerful and sensor-laden panels possessing enough strength to rival his own, as they fanned the air in slow and deliberate movements. The matte black armor was stained with a glowing blue liquid that was eerily similar to that of the lifeblood his species possessed.

But that was not what startled the arrogant Seeker into silence.

Breakdown was on the ground, seemingly unconscious, beneath his partner. Numerous gashes, still leaking a profound amount of Energon, were scattered throughout the thick armor that covered his frame, the jagged edges hinting that both massive claws and fangs had slashed their way through the once protective metal.

The assassin's wings flared as he sensed the spark signal of his visitor. With a low snarl, he turned.

Deathstrike was covered in what was no doubt his partner's lifeblood. His fangs were extended to huge and razor points, and they dripped with the blood of his current meal. His talons were unsheathed and covered with the blue liquid as well. Burning crimson and black optics were narrowed in animalistic fury, one that was only present when a predator was defending a freshly caught meal from one that might try to steal it.

Starscream froze, his wings lowering to allow the mad Decepticon to realize that he was not an enemy. "It is okay, Deathstrike. Calm down and fight this."

The matte black mech snarled viciously, optics following the other's every move as he remained crouched over his prey. His wings were raised as high as the other Seeker had ever seen them, and it was a clearly vicious and extremely aggressive movement.

"Deathstrike." The silver Seeker's voice filled with a sudden dark authority that had even the beast confused for a moment.

Starscream gathered his courage and continued on, well aware that if he moved or spoke in the wrong way that the monster would come and devour him whole in pure and unadulterated aggression. "Cease these inconsequential actions and return to normal." He narrowed his optics as he received a feral snarl as a response. "You have injured your partner, do you not see? Would you ever allow yourself to do such a thing? Come to your senses, hunter, and release him!"

Deathstrike rose to his pedes in a graceful and deadly movement. The insanity and hunger blazing in the molten depths of the feared assassin's gaze was enough to make the former Second in Command hesitate ever so slightly.

"Would I ever allow myself to injure him?" The sleek black mech's deep voice was haunting, sending chills down the silver mech's spinal components. "Oh, yes, I would. I would harm him, if it was to satisfy the hunger." A dark and demented laugh rumbled from deep within the hunter's chassis as his wings began to fan the air. "Oh, how I yearn for the delicious lifeblood, that oh so satisfying sustenance. I have waited so long, but now..." He trailed off, a slight chuckle shaking his chassis. "...I am finished with my wait." Optics flickered with venomous rage as he moved even closer, the deadly movements possessing no noise whatsoever. "I am oh so hungry..."

"...and you smell so satisfying."

Before Starscream could comprehend what happened, Deathstrike was suddenly looming over him, and he felt an excruciating pain in his neck cabling before he gave into the ravenous darkness.

Whoo! Super long chapter! I'm feelin' good! It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, and I'm feelin' good... Anyone know that song? :)

And for future reference, a list of the Autobot "Human" Names:

Optimus Prime: Orion Edwards

Ratchet: Raleigh Montreuil

Bumblebee: Rylan Harcourt

Bulkhead: Grayson Court

Arcee: Adalia Harcourt

Oh, and a question: How do you guys feel about a romance story? There is a very high chance that it won't be for this story, with the overall horror/mystery/suspense thing I've got going on. But I've been wanting to post a Transformers romance story for some time, but it comes out as angst/hurt-comfort and tragedy most of the time? Any requests or suggestions? I could do a certain pairing, it you wanted it...maybe with the main characters of this story? Pleaze let me know! (And define how detailed you want it...)

R&R, pleaze! I apologize for the wait once again! Comments/concerns/suggestions always welcome!

Bye!