Authors Notes: It goes without saying you guys have been too good to me when it comes to reviews and comments and I can't thank you enough or tell you how truly massive you made my ego. (as if it wasn't big enough as it was) But last week I got taken down a few notches by a friend I asked to beta read parts of the new chapter, and they delivered the gut punch I never saw coming.

They said it reminded them of the Micheal Bay movies.

...Ouch.

He told me it was the amount of time I, quote: wasted on the regular humans: and that I should write more on the transformers. I argued that people don't just enjoy transformers because of the giant robot war factor, but for the colorful personalities and character interactions, but the movie comment has left me pretty self conscious.

so, what do you guys and gals think? Have I fallen down the toilet drain behind Bay, or is my friend the one who's full of it?

The sky was pitch black over Tokyo, but the city itself might as well have been a second sun. Even as the night grew long the streets were filled with streams of people, flowing across crosswalks in throngs. Bulkhead fidgeted in his vehicle mode, not comfortable with any part of the situation. Not only was he sitting parked in the middle of downtown Tokyo sticking out like a monster truck at a smart car convention, but his new "partner" had left him there and vanished into the late night crowd. To top it off his self repair systems were still popping dents out of his alt-mode chassis, as if his sheer size wasn't attracting enough attention.

'Maybe Wheeljack's right,' he groaned to himself as he adjusted his side mirrors, 'Maybe it is time I lost a few kilos.' But all he could really think about was Miko, sitting at home with her father and grandmother getting ready for her mother's funeral, while he looked after her Uncle. He would have driven straight to her house if Ratchet hadn't bridged him right to Rodney's front door. As if on cue said relative appeared out of the crowd like a ghost, darting across the street, unlocking and jumping into the Wreckers driver seat in a flash. He was still gasping for breath when Bulkhead activated his vocalizer.

"Dude, where's the fire?" Rodney jumped straight up in his seat, banging his head into the ceiling so hard Bulkhead felt his alt mode move.

"Fer cry'n out loud!," he snapped, rubbing his head, "I told yous not to do dat! Now I know what de mallet on a steel drum feels like."

"Hey, you're the one nose-diving into the talking truck."

"Eh, touche," He shrugged in defeat, moving as if to turn the ignition and put the "truck" in gear before Bulkhead started into Tokyo's traffic.

"So what was all that about?" He asked as he adjusted the rear-view mirror to look at Rodney.

"Jus some loose ends to tie up," he said settling back in the drivers seat. "Disagreements bout vacation time, work hours, employment status. Meh, dat job was de pits anyways."

"You quit?," Bulkhead asked surprised.

"Like I said. it was de pits," he laughed half heartedly. "I mean, yeah some intrest'n stuff came in once'n a while, but most days it was jus fanboy's look'n te sell deir Sentai whatever collections. Sides," He smirked leaning back with his hands behind his head. "An international secret agent don't need no work hours tying him down. Truth is," he said in a much more honest tone. "I been in dis town too long. Time I stretched my legs an did some travel'n again."

"Wait," Bulkhead said in step with his processor, "you're skipping town?"

"What? No! Course not!" he replied quickly, averting his eyes from the mirrors, before muttering under his breath. "...Not just yet anyways."

"Hey!" But Rodney only laughed and lightly smacked the Wrecker's console.

"I'm yank'n yer tailpipe ya big lug, Lighten up." Bulkhead tried to shrug it off, deciding the best way to do that was change the subject.

"Funny," He said with mild sarcasm as they stopped for a traffic light, "Whirl and Topspin used to call me that."

"Is dat so?" Rodney said distantly, "Were dey part of yer Wreckers too?"

"Best fliers we ever had," Bulkhead beamed as they started moving again, a grey and red muscle car pulling in behind them. "Whirl could fly circles around any Con, and Topspin didn't know how to loose a fight."

"Surpris'n how war brings out the best in some people," Rodney said casually, and instantly regretted it.

"... And the worst," Bulkhead said darkly, remembering the darker side of the Wrecker's missions.

"Ey look, I didn't mean to." But before Rodney could apologize, Bulkhead's mirrors turned away from him and the controls stiffened as the seat lurched upright.

"Hands on the wheel," Bulkhead barked. "Now." Rodney quickly complied, sitting up in the drivers seat and playing the part of haggard commuter. "We got a follower," He explained curtly. "Muscle-car two lanes over and three cars back. Big energon signal."

"I see'm," Rodney, said looking in the left side view mirror, biting his tongue to keep from swearing when he recognized the 2012 Camaro's gun-metal and blood red color scheme. "Ah crap its Wildrider." Bulkhead felt his fuel pump squirm at the name of the Stunticon Berserker, but he kept his head.

"Just keep your eyes on the road," he reminded the agent, and himself. "If he was here to slag us he'd have already done it. Motormaster must have him running recon."

"Or try'n te find out where Chopperface n Streaks are," The agent remarked grimly, now focusing on the gps display of the highway interchange ahead on Bulkhead's console. "Take de next right and exit up." But Bulkhead wasn't so eager to follow Rodney's instructions when he saw the traffic.

"Uh, correct me if I'm wrong, but won't that take us into stand still traffic? We'll never loose him in that."

"Dat's why," Rodney smirked, "we're gonna take a little short-cut."

The traffic on the overpass was deadlocked with late night commuters. One young japanese man in particular was waiting it out with a good manga and a lukewarm cup of coffee to keep him alert. He turned the page, when suddenly his drink rippled. He looked at it, then saw it ripple again, this time the cup itself shaking as well. He put down his comic and looked around through his car's windows just as the vehicle started to shake rhythmically on its wheels. He kept looking around for the source of the vibrations, but didn't find one until he looked in his rear view mirror.

Two cars behind him, a green metal giant was carrying a tiny man in his palm, gingerly stepping across and between stopped cars as careful as a long tailed cat in a rocking chair store. He quickly snatched up his manga, comparing the metal giant with the ogre like green beast on the cover, and watched with bugged eyes as the giant robot climbed down the other side of the bridge, careful not to bend the guard rail too much.

The driver took one last look at his comic, then rolled his window down and tossed it out into the roadway. Rubbing the sleep out of his tired and possibly hallucinating eyes, he reached for his coffee, but stopped just before pressing it to his lips. He gave the drink a long hesitant look, before pouring it out the window for good measure.

Bulkhead made sure not to land so hard as to crack the pavement, then quickly transformed back into vehicle mode and took off down the deserted stretch of overpass. Above and behind him meanwhile Wildrider began to throw a fit.

"BUT HE JUST TRANSFORMED AND DANCED ACROSS THE ROAD RIGHT IN FRONT OF DEIR EYES!" He shrieked over the comms, but Motormaster's voice never wavered.

"I don't care if he was singing Can't Touch This! You so much as transform yer pinky, I'll slag ya down to your protoform!" As Bulkhead and Rodney vanished across Tokyo bay, Wildrider decided now was a good time to remind Motormaster just how many earth terms counted as swears in cybertronian.

"I don't mean to sound timid," Tar said, nervously thumbing his hands in his lab coat's pockets, "But is allying ourselves with the decepticons reeeeaaalllyy the best idea at the moment?"

"Whats the matter?" General Zarak asked the doctor casually as he stepped out of the constricting bubble of cameras and motion sensors that had allowed him to project his image as a hologram, Scalpel climbing down from atop one of the cameras and onto his master's shoulder. "I thought you of all people would be overjoyed to examine alien technology." he said lightly petting the tiny mechanoid. "You've never passed up the chance before."

"Before the technology didn't have a mine of its own," Tar retorted, knowing well he was one of only a handful of people could talk to the general of Mech like this and live to tell about it. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't them handing over their tech dependent on us getting them those energon mines?"

"That was our accord," Zarak nodded, Scalpel skittering to his opposite shoulder as the General turned his head to regard his other lieutenant lounging in one of the techs swivel chairs by an antiquated generator. "Well, what about it Ferrex?"

"My boys can take the mines no problem," the rust manipulator said dismissively, arms folded behind his head in relaxation. "We go in in small teams, jam the comms and computers, then ghost the feds and the mines are ours." But his casual air quickly became serious as he leaned forward in his chair. "The hard part, will be keeping the E's from taking them back. We don't have the man power to hold off a counterattack, specially if they decide to throw one of those Autobots at us." But despite the obvious complications, the General retained his small confident smile.

"I've been told the South African army recently purchased a new order of automated remote weapons systems. Unfortunately," He smirked, an expression that told his lieutenants all they needed to know, "the ship carrying them went down in a storm in the Indian Ocean. They should make defending the mines much easier for your troops Ferrex."

"Against other humans yeah, but what about the Autobots?"

"They will be much too busy with our Decepticon friends." Zarak's voice was confident and assured, but he knew he was taking a gamble. The stolen shipment of sentry guns would be the last piece of the puzzle before they finally trained their weapons on Unit:E, and a single moments falter from them could mean destruction.

"Excuse me," Tar said suddenly, darting off to another part of the complex as his comrades looked on.

"Its funny really,' Ferrex remarked lazily, "Used to he was just the sadistic tech-surgery wacko. Now he doesn't even hardly have the time to be insane anymore."

"Our dreams are not without demands," The General said knowingly, "But Tar is stretched thin, managing this facility and keeping our operations hidden."

"Barely," Ferrex scoffed. "He's had to put down more than one jar-head before they blew the whole thing open." He leaned back against the generator, metal slowly flaking and oxidizing where his skin grazed it and his tone changed from dismissive to pleading. "You know I'd sooner shoot myself than betray you Boss, but after all this time in the dark, scrapping by in scrap-shacks like this, a few of the commanders they're well ... antsy. A lot of them won't like this new alliance."

"No they won't," Zarak mused darkly, "They're still much to fond of Silas's memory." He sighed, closing his eye as Scalpel skittered up atop his head to adjust the mechanisms of his optical implant.

"Don't get me wrong the guy was a jack-hole, but a lot of his strategies made sense to,"

"Colonel Leland Bishop," The General snapped suddenly cutting Ferrex off, "was a paranoid imbecile who allowed his ambition to blind him." he took a breath through his nostrils to calm himself befroe admitting: "But the one thing he wasn't was a fool. He knew better than to trust Megatron, just as he knew better than to trust me. But now," he said as something dangerous and unhinged leaked into the General's smirk, "with their leader out of the picture, the Decepticons might just be a tad more susceptible to, 'outside influence,'." Ferrex only had a split second to ponder his leader's implications before Tar came running back into the room, gasping for breath.

"Huuuh, Masterson, Guuuuuhhh, video, guuuuuhh," he wheezed, doubling over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Wow," Ferrex laughed, "Haven't seen him move that fast since ... You know I don't think I've ever seen this weasel run." But as the lieutenant mocked, Zarak knelt down beside the doctor.

"What's happened Tar?"

"It's Masterson," The surgeon gasped, "I've lost the up-link to his computer, and the surveillance feed he hacked for us has been disabled. Even his shock chip is being jammed." Ferrex swallowed hard, and slowly turned just enough to glance at his commander's reactions. The General's fists clenched, creating an audible bony pop as his calm demeanor began to stretch and his voice snarled.

"Fowler," He spat as if the name was a curse, and both lieutenants looked at their commander anxiously. "Masterson is compromised," he finally said, turning his head only slightly toward Tar's direction. "Bring the shock chip back online. The moment you have a connection, Terminate."

Fowler Didn't bother hiding his swear when the computer technician told him the connection was rebooting. Not five minutes after disrupting Mech's hack and they were already onto them. Of all the day's for Rafael to go back to college why today?

"Keep blocking them," He ordered. "The longer we keep them on the outside the more time we'll have to track their signal!"

"I'm trying Sir," the head computer tech shouted in a controlled panic. "But this guy's good. If we don't sever the connection completely they will get back inside our network!"

"Not yet!" Fowler barked. "Not until we have a lock on their location!" He just hoped they could keep them out until then.

"You shouldn't be here."

Miko spun around, ash and dust kicking up into clouds at her feet as she searched for the voices source.

"Who are you?!" She demanded, equal parts angered and frightened, "And where the heck am I?!"

"My identity," The deep, rumbling male voice growled, "Is not for you to know. As I said," it snarled angrily, "You should not be here."

"WHERE IS HERE?!" Miko yelled, pulling at her hair, only to fins smooth metal and see her hands and arms were no longer skin, but purple metal. "What the?" She wondered out loud as she realized her whole body was now covered in the same deep purple armor, streaked through with blue accents and pink energon lines.

"As for where you are," The voice seemed to mock as Miko slowly reached up to touch her face when suddenly an enormous light burst from behind her, illuminating a charred smoldering landscape. She turned to face the light, shielding her eyes as another burst shone through a forest of black smoke columns, their bases blazing red from the inferno. Miko's jaw went slack at the sight of an entire city on fire, but it was nothing compared to what was in the middle of the destruction.

Its black armor seemed to burn with the firestorm around it as it waded through the carnage, gleaming all the way up its massive, mountain like hind legs to where its much smaller arms hung held to its sides. Its tail, easily as long as the rest of the beast was tall, lashed out behind it, sweeping away entire swaths of burning buildings and throwing their embers high over the inferno. Then, with the city burning all around it, the towering giant stopped, then heaved as its whole body, from tail tip to neck began to glow bright blue-white beneath its black plating. The glow traveled all the way up its thick neck before the beast threw its reptilian head back, only to snap its entire body forward, throwing its jagged jaws open to unleash a solid beam of pure white hot energy. The blaze exploded where the beam hit, its sheer heat and moment throwing up a new corridor of burning destruction.

Miko threw up her arms to shield herself from the sheer heat of the blast wave, eyes blocked as she felt something large rush past her. All she saw was a flash of white and black stripped fur streak past her, bounding into the inferno ahead. Before she could even process the fur's feline shape, three more outlines appeared against the distant flames, their wings flapping madly.

"Return to the spot of revelations," the voice snapped bitterly as the faint glowing outline of a serpentine dragon came into view. "Bring with you one of the new blood. Then you will know our plight." The three flying forms attacked the black titan, spewing their own streams of energy even as the giant's beam scattered them like flies. Then Miko heard a rumbling from behind her, like the roar of a typhoon.

"Seek the unfamiliar in the familiar," the voice hissed, fiery eyes mocking and disdainful, "And mind the young. For they are the most trustworthy, and most treacherous." She turned around just in time to see her reflection in the sheer wall of black water, green optics and black, pink streaked helm staring back at her before the wave hit her like a truck, and she woke up in a cold sweat.

Skylynx jolted to his pedes, crouched low with wings spread and wide terrified yellow optics. His neck and chest plates glowed with panicked fire, and it was several minutes before he could control himself enough to cool the flames. But just as he did, a knock on the hangar door startled him.

"Skylynx?" The predacon jumped and turned like lightning toward the door before he recognized Ratchet's voice. Judging by the light streaming from the windows above the hangar door Skylynx guessed it was about noon, probably earlier, a long recharge by cybertronian standards. He quickly transformed and stomped toward the doors, letting his annoyance cover up the lingering effects of his latest nightmare.

"What?" he asked inching the sliding doors open, just enough that the early mid-day sun blinded his optics for a split second. The Medic looked like he had been up for hours, and his face-plates had a look of mounting irritation that already outclassed anything Skylynx could have mustered.

"You were supposed to report for monitor duty two mega-cycles ago," the medic scolded. "Need I remind you that with Bulkhead and Wheeljack off base it's your responsibility to be ready to ground-bridge out in case the decepticons attack?"

"And need I remind you," The predacon snarled, "That I'm here to track and hunt them, not play save the citizen like one of your auto-bugs." If Ratchet was intimidated, he failed to show it.

"That does not change the fact you are late!" But all the medic's tone earned was a tired groan.

"Don't you have humans to watch or something?" Skylynx asked running a clawed hand down his face-plates.

"That's not the point," Ratchet suddenly snapped defensively, catching the predacon off guard. "They are more than old enough to fend for themselves," he finished with a hint of self reprehension in his voice, making Skylynx think something had happened to the humans in question.

"Then where are they now?"

"Having a talk with Director Fowler. And if all goes well, soon all four of them will be on their way to Cybertron for training. And for their own protection." Predacon audio sensors were more sensitive than other cybertronian's, but Skylynx still needed a nano second to realize something had changed.

"Four?" The medic didn't bother with a response, but the way his shoulders sagged while the rest of him stiffened told infinitely more.

:Earlier that morning, approximately five hours prior:

Jack had woken up to his alarm clock in a daze. His vision refused to focus and the right side of his torso was almost completely numb. He couldn't even see or really walk straight until he stumbled into the shower and pinned the nob on cold. Six minutes later he was tying a towel round his waist when he finally got a good look at himself.

The dark green web beneath his skin had spread, now running the length of his right arm and not fading until it reached his shoulder. There was even some lines starting to appear on his chest near the joint, but not nearly as noticeable as the lines on his arm. Jack leaned forward onto the sink, trying to steady his panicking nerves, only to feel something break. The rock counter top had cracked like egg shells where his right hand had gripped the edge, pieces falling to the floor as he hesitantly pulled away.

He looked at his arm, feeling it to make sure he wasn't dreaming. It was like smooth stone, the muscles much denser than those in his other arm, and much stronger if the counter was any indication. He flexed his hand and elbow, then struck a pose as he flexed his biceps, his right arms bulging noticeably more than the left.

"Great," he groaned, "I'm turning into Perter Parker." Somehow he managed to make it back to his room without his teammates seeing him, but he had barely slipped both arms into his jacket sleeves and grabbing a pair of black SAP gloves when the kitchen phone rang with a call from Fowler. Ten minutes later the three teammates were pulling up outside one of the countless clone houses covering the base's residential block.

"And we're here why?" Sierra asked, slamming the car door as she followed Jack and Vince to the door of the last person anyone wanted to visit.

"Director's orders," Jack groaned. "Apparently the security up-link to Henry's house went on the fritz last night and he wants us to check it out."

"Probably hacked the feed or something," Vince remarked, pressing the door bell again but still without a response. "Come on," he growled, ringing the bell again and tapping his foot. "He can't still be asleep, it's seven o'clock for Christ's sake!" Jack could only laugh at the irony.

"This coming from the guy who was never less than half an hour late for first period." He caught Sierra smiling from the corner of his eye, but it vanished the moment she saw him looking.

"Hardy Har," Vince laughed dryly, "You're hilarious Darby." He took a few steps back from the door, looking intent on ramming it down before a voice finally answered.

"Hold on a sec!" Jack heard Henry Masterson's voice shouted from the garage to their left, followed by a string of muffled expletives follow, along with the sound of toppling machinery and clanging metal. In fact the sounds of crashing metal continued, joined by the whine of power tools and Henry's muffled cursing. The three teammates exchanged confused looks, equally weirded out by the sounds before Jack slowly approached the garage door.

"Henry?" He called hesitantly, "you okay in there?"

"I'm fine," he shouted back, before yelping like a startled dog. "Gimme a sec, I'm uhh ... Not decent!" Jack had a hard time believing that was true, remembering how Henry had walked into his lab one day in a bath robe and not much else. "Be there in a flash!" he yelled quickly, before something that sounded big and heavy fell. "OW! DANGIT!"

"Screw this," Vince huffed, walking over then stooping down in front of the garage door and working his fingers under the bottom. He heaved up, but the panels barely moved. "Well?!" he barked back at his teammates, "You gonna stand and stare or help me?!" Jack and Sierra bent down to help, but it was soon clear the door wasn't going to cooperate willingly. Sierra growled in her throat and ground her teeth as she struggled.

"Either its locked, or this sucker weighs a freaking ton!" Jack pulled with all his might, only just hearing his teammates grunts and Henry's continued yelps from inside. Then he got the idea to stop using his legs, and put his arms into it as well. With a grunt that sounded more like a gorilla's roar he heaved up, arm muscles bulging like iron. The trio of padlocks holding the door down snapped and the door came rocketing it up into the garage ceiling. But before Vince or Sierra could ask about Jack's sudden boost, all three had their brains blanked by what was behind the garage door.

Inside the tiny two car garage was an inactive vehicon splayed out on its back in robot mode with one side of its chest open, its legs pointed toward them. And lying atop the vehicon's pelvis, on his back, legs in the air with his head towards them was Henry, clad in a deep magenta and gun-metal grey suit of smooth shell like armor clearly built in imitation of cybertronian tech. He kept pulling and cursing as he forced a socket wrench between the plating at his left knee joint, before he suddenly realized he had company. He slowly tilted his head back, looking at the three agents upside down where he sat atop the vehicon's crotch plates. For an awkward four seconds no one said anything.

"Lets be honest," Henry deadpanned, "this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing." Jack's brain could barely register that the statement was unfortunately true as Sierra finally found her voice.

"... What the heck are you wearing?"

"Really?" Vince asked, turning to the pilot and waving at the garage. "That? That's your first question? Out of everything going on here, you're concerned about his fashion statement?"

"You got a better idea where to start?"

"How about, oh I don't know, The giant comatose purple robot IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM?!" The outburst was all the incentive Jack needed.

"Will you both shut up!?" He yelled loud enough to get both recruits attention. With the bickering teammates silenced, Jack turned to proverbial elephants in the room, one of whom was still cursing and pulling at his suit. "Henry," Jack asked tediously, "what what exactly is going on here?"

"I'm stuck, that's what's going on," he snapped, pushing as hard as he could on the knee joint of his suit. "Mother-fragg'n, camp'n kill-steal'n, COME OFF ALREADY! WHOA!" His tossing and turning finally sent him tumbling off his perch with a clang and into a heap on the floor. "I'm okay," he groaned, righting himself and stumbling to his feet. It was surreal how much more imposing the suit made him, adding at least a foot to his height and bulking him out considerably, enough that he towered over Vince, Jack, and Sierra, who rolled her eyes at the inventors eccentric demeanor.

"And here I though you were supposed to be smart," She sighed. "What kind of inventor builds a suit that he can't take off?" Jack however wasn't fooled by the problem on hand.

"Actually I was referring to why he has a Vehicon shell, which is Unit:E property by the way, in his garage. Come to think of it," he said, narrowing his eyes and folding his arms, "I don't recall the Director ever asking you to build a suit for yourself." Vince's annoyed glare turned hard and sharp as his right hand moved to his combat knife, hidden under his shirt in a holster at the small of his back. But Henry only scowled down his nose and waved them off.

"Duh, its a prototype," He said so quickly and callously no one knew if it was true or not. "I needed something I could test and experiment on. I still need to figure out the final kinks of the interface between the suits and cybertronian circuitry, and frankly between you three's body types alone there are enough design variables to blue-screen a super computer! Not to mention the weapons systems, which I haven't even been able to build yet! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get weapons grade Pluntonium into this country, or to find enough vibranium for decent exo-dermal plating for that ma,"

"Henry!" Jack barked, snapping the inventor out of his characteristic ranting.

"What?" the auburn haired geek asked, oblivious to anything worth snapping about, earning another tired groan from Jack.

"Huuuh, forget it. But if it's really just a prototype," Jack said still suspicious, "Then why are you working on it here and not in your lab back in the hangar?"

"With The Hatchet?" Henry scoffed, prying at the paneling on his right gauntlet. "I'd rather pour mercury in my ears. Dang it," he grumbled looking at the table sitting across the room. "Could one of you hand me that flat head screw driver?" When neither of his teammates moved, Vince retrieved the tool, finding it partially hidden by an odd round mass of jumbled parts on a table near the Vehicon's head.

"Wouldn't it be easier to get a blow torch at this point?" He asked handing Henry the tool.

"I did design this thing to come off you know," he said matter of factly as he started trying to pry the plating apart. "Only problem is I can't get to any of the release mechanisms. Not since I went and installed that," he stopped, freezing in place and eyes going wide before he abruptly smacked himself upside the head. "I am such a nooooob."

"A what?" Sierra asked Jack as the inventor tossed the screwdriver away.

"Don't ask," Jack sighed while Henry started reaching behind his back, trying to grasp something but the armor around his shoulders wouldn't let him reach that far. After a few moments of letting the inventor make a fool of himself, Jack gave into his better judgement.

"Hold on," He sighed walking over to help the inventor where he stood near the work bench leaning on the vehicon's shoulder plating. "What do you need?"

"There's a round panel, near the shoulder blades," Henry explained.

"Got it."

"Twist it counter-clockwise until you feel a click." Jack did as he was told, turning the panel until he felt something give and the panel came loose, revealing a strange round , baseball sized assembly beneath.

"Now what?" He asked putting the panel on the table.

"See the weird ball look'n thing?" Henry said hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"Pull it out. Slowly." Jack reached in a gripped the top. "And be careful not to let it touch the siIIIIIIIIIDDEES!" No sooner had he said that though than the orb touched the bottom on its hole, making a electric buzzing sound and shocking Henry.

"Sorry!" Jack said, quickly removing the orb from its slot as the shock dissipated. Henry went right back to trying to get out of his suit, leaving Jack to examine the orb. It only took him a short moment and a glance at the larger but nearly identical mechanism within the vehicon's exposed chest to realize what it was.

"It's a T-cog," he gasped as Sierra and Vince joined him.

"A T-what?" Vince asked.

"A transformation cog," Jack explained, turning the assembly over in his hand. "The most important part of a cybertronian's body. This is what lets them change form, scan alt-modes, use their weapons, everything."

"So basically" Sierra said taking it right out of Jack's hand for a better look, "its what makes a Transformer a Transformer."

"Yeah," Jack nodded, before turning a critical but no less amazed eye on Henry. "You made this?" All he got was a prideful smirk.

"Surprised?" He asked, beaming, only for Sierra to burst his bubble.

"Does it work?"

"... Not exactly," he admitted, ego deflating like an old party balloon. "I remembered Ratchet talking about Transformers repairing themselves by scanning a new alt-mode, and seeing as Fowler wants me to make more suits a-s-a-p."

"You took a short cut," Vince surmised.

"I tried," The inventor corrected, looking over his still very much stuck suit. "All it really did was make this one look presentable. And cover up the release mechanisms," he added with a bang on metal covering his body. As Jack and Vince started rambling off ways to get Henry out of the suit without injuring him, though neither considered it out of the question, Sierra noticed something about the miniature T-cog. That being a tiny difference in the lights flickering on and off at each of it's poles.

"What if it's like a battery?" She asked, earning confused looks from the males in the room. "Like it only works if you put it the right way in, plus to plus minus to minus? Maybe if we put it back in the other way, it'll reverse itself." Henry of course laughed at the idea.

"OH for the love of! That has to be the most lame-brained excuse for a theory I've ever."

"Try it," Jack cut him off, pinning the pompous inventor with a glare. "And if you've got a better idea for getting yourself out of that thing, by all means, share." Henry grumbled something about brain-dead red heads as he grudgingly turned around and let Sierra reinsert the T-cog into his suit.

"There," She said twisting the cover panel back on and stepping back. "Anything?"

"No," he spat in an I-told-you-so tone, before suddenly. "Wait," He said, shifting from one foot to the other and wiggling his shoulders, then shook as if the temperature had just plummeted. "Okay that feels weird." The other three all stepped back, Vince a little farther than his teammates.

"Weird good or weird bad?" He asked hesitantly, seeing Henry was just as scared if not more so than them.

"Not sure, I think," But before he could finish the armor at his neck began to move and shift, followed by the familiar transforming noise as the metal moved up over his mouth, neck, until his entire head was covered in a sleek cowl like helmet and face mask. He had barely started to scream when a beam shot from his helmet's visor, forcing Jack Sierra and Vince to shield their eyes. It scanned the Vehicon lying next to them, which began a transformation of its own, the head folding down and away until all that was left was a hollow stump of a neck. Then as quickly as it began, it stopped, leaving the humans dazed.

"Henry?" Jack called, trying to blink his vision back to normal. His teammates were like wise afflicted.

"Dude," Vince groaned, "Warn somebody before you turn on the light show!"

"Seriously," Sierra agreed before she looked at the inventor. "Whoa." The other three had similar reactions, least of all Henry when he saw what had happened to his suit.

The previously smooth plating had shifted into new blockier shapes, but still retained the element of sleekness that accompanied a cybertronian in robot mode. The shins had and fore arms now had large panel like magenta plating covering them, but the thigh plating was gleaming silver. The upper arms by contrast were gun-metal grey, and they connected to a set of square, stance widening silver shoulder pads set over more magenta plating at the joints. But the the defining feature of the suits upgrade were the helmet and chest. The inventor's face was now hidden behind and outward angled visor and mouth-guard set in a square helmet between two horn like anteanna on either side. The chest however was not so original in look, its plating clearly creating the shape of a Vehicon's brow and face-plates.

"DAMMIT!" The computer tech screamed as his screen flashed between red and blue, "They've cracked the security program!" Fowler ran to the terminal.

"Can you still keep them out?!"

"They broke through the firewalls! I'm sorry sir, but they're already in."

"HeheHA! Connection reestablished!" Tar cackled as the program loaded onto his terminal. "Sorry Henry," he smiled sickly as the thumbed the correct key, "But the General's orders are final. Nothing personal! HehehehahaHAHA!"

"Hey horn-head," Vince called just loud enough to snap Henry out of his self admiring stupor. "Just so we're clear, are you planning on making us new suits, or does one of us get that one as a hand me down?" Jack smiled when he saw Sierra cringe at the idea of wearing the gaudy light purple armor.

"You mean you or Jack," She said quickly. "I wouldn't be caught dead in that." Jack laughed a little at the thought of Sierra in purple, but not as much as Henry.

"I'll make you guys a hundred suits each!" He shouted ecstatically throwing his arms in the air. "Heck I'll even thrown in a body. But this one," he said proudly as the computer in his bedroom flickered. "This one is all miIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" The three teammates jumped when Henry suddenly screamed and grabbed his head.

"Henry!" Jack shouted, moving to help the inventor only to backpedal when his suit began sparking like a tesla coil. They were helpless to do anything but watch as Henry fell to his knee's, still screaming as the force of the shocks started to illuminate the wiring and mechanics beneath his suits armor. Then, with one last horrific scream, Henry threw his head back as sparks flew from every crevice and crack of his suit at once, only to be replaced by smoke and silence. He fell forward, limp and smoldering onto the garage floor.

Tar's smile was as sick as it was proud when he saw the new massage on his screen, and it only grew when he turned to his nearest assistant.

"Contact General Zarak. Tell him, the threat has been terminated."

:Later that day:

Fowler watched the three teammates with a heavy heart where they stood in the infirmary waiting room, Vince and Sierra leaning on opposite corners of the small room while Jack methodically paced around. They'd gone there straight from de-brief, and though it was clear they all felt guilty, Jack was the only one blaming himself for what had happened, though he didn't know what it was.

"Sir?" one of the bases doctor's called anxiously as he nudged open the door. The director

"What's the verdict?" The Director asked grimly, not taking his eyes from the security monitor.

"We've removed as much of the suit as we can, along with the electronic implant from his shoulder. But ..."

"Bottom line it Doc," Fowler snapped.

"The trauma to his nervous system was massive. He's alive, somehow, but the combination of the suit and the electric shock has."

"I said," Fowler growled, "Bottom. Line. It."

"...He's paralyzed from the neck down." Fowler felt like he'd been punched in the gut, and slowly collapsed into the chair meant for the monitors at his back. He heard the door open again, and the familiar voice order the doctor out before the door shut again.

"It wasn't your fault," Ace said firmly, but Fowler couldn't tell if it was his friend or the Regent talking to him. "You did everything you could."

"Well I should have done more!" The army ranger vet snapped, finally loosing his composure. "I knew the chip was there!"

"You also knew He was feeding Mech information under the table," Ace shot back, hoping an argument would stabilize the Director.

"False information! All they got out of that feed were some still's and looped video!" He jumped out of his chair and began pacing the room, just like the young team leader in the security footage. He was blaming himself for the inventor's suffering, and Ace knew the news he carried was only going to make it worse. But he was putting that off until the last moment.

"You had no choice but to cut the link," The retired Ranger assured. "If Mech had seen what Masterson was trying to build."

"Built," Fowler corrected, stopping his friend cold.

"... You mean he actually."

"And installed it in his own suit," The director said in bitter guilt. "The same suit that's now the only thing keeping him from being bed ridden the rest of his life." He hung his head and sighed, past arguments and shouting matches replaying in his mind one after another. "Prime always said we weren't ready yet. He was right, and we're still not ready for their technology."

"Billy," Ace said as gently as he could, "I know what the big red Boss-Bot meant to you, but the genies out of the bottle. If a college dropout like Henry Masterson can take one long night, a bucket of spare parts, too much caffeine, and turn it into a T-cog, how long do you think it'll be until Mech's egg-heads start popping out their own full size Vehicons?"

"They won't" Fowler said firmly, looking back at the monitors. "Not without him." He saw the video from Henry's hospital room, a myriad of machines and tubes hooked up to the young man to keep him stable until he awoke. "Masterson's mind is unique. If he didn't have an ego the size of Mount Rushmore he'd already have won the Noble peace prize on effort alone. The kid's a genius, and the only reason I've kept him around so long is that no other human can do what Henry Masterson does." That was when Ace realized had no choice but to drop the bombshell.

"Tartarus is gone Billy," he said numbly as he saw his friend freeze in place. "Weather satellite picked up the smoke last night. We sent a team from the Greenland Base but."

"Let me guess," Fowler deadpanned bitterly, "His cell was empty." Ace nodded yes, and the Director's mood took on a new meaning of dark as his friend explained the full situation.

"We know Mech stepped up their operations five years ago, after Silas was discharged for the Damocles debacle. We also know the Colonel wasn't their first choice for a leader, and intel from the other Regents suggest he may have taken over Mech not long before they came out of the shadows. That's roughly the same time you know who was put away." He waited for his friend's reaction, but he could already see the old wounds rising to the surface.

"We can't be sure of anything when it comes to Mech," Ace continued anxiously, "But you and I both know the kind of man He is. He's not like Silas, he's not a scientist. He's a commander. Everything's a war for him, and in war you need allies to win." Fowler looked at his fellow vet, looking for some other meaning to his words hidden in his face, but there was none.

"You're right," he sighed heavily, turning to the monitors. "If he is in command of Mech, the first thing he'll do is strike a deal with the Decepticons." And then the genie really would be out of the bottle, for good. "But," Fowler said steadfastly, "even with Con help it'll take them a while to crack the code. Time we can use. Still," he sighed, "we can't let them get their hands on Masterson. If they find out what he knows, we loose every advantage we have."

"They've got eyes and ears on every continent, where are you gonna hide Masterson that they won't find him?" Ace again waited for a response, only to recognize the look of mischievous dread on Fowler's face. "...Billy," he said hesitantly, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, that Agent Darby's team just signed up it's fourth member."

"Well," The ranger vet groaned, "That's just Prime."

And there you have it! Sorry if I wasted your time and eyes, but I needed to get this little origin-spot out there so I could tidy things up story line wise. I realized a while ago I'd let the characters and plot line get away from me, so how does an amateur writer fix too many characters going at once? I took a page from one of George RR Martin's books, and decided to split it into TWO STORIES with even MORE CHARACTERS!

From now on Sword of Honor will focus on the trials and tribulations taking place on Earth, centering on Miko and her family, while a still Unnamed spin-off will take readers all the way to Cybertron. There you will watch as the four human headmasters train midst titans and soldiers, Decepticons and Autobots, as veterans from both factions vie for influence in the shaky peace, all the while dealing with the proverbial white predacon in the room. Along the way they will encounter old mysteries and growing threats, one of which will leave both Jack and Sierra scarred beyond measure, and perhaps rekindle a lost spark.

And yes for those of you that were wondering I ship JackxSierra. I ship it hard. And to the JackxArcee fans out there, I share your love (just look at my favorite stories list) but there are enough of those fics out there, Besides, I saw an opportunity for development in Sierra's character.

Welp, that's all for now, till next time! (hopefully soon)