Brawl was terrified out of his mind. It wasn't a feeling the tank was used to; after all, he was one of the strongest soldiers in the Decepticon army. He had taken on Autobots far larger than himself and won. He had taken on fellow Decepticons far larger than himself and lived to tell about it. Few things gave him pause, especially since he made a habit of obliterating first, asking questions never. Unfortunately, he was currently on a ship that was crawling with any ground pounders natural enemy: Seekers. To make it worse, all of them were Starscream's most loyal, devoted minions. The Combaticon was in a distinct minority, and everyone on board knew it.

It didn't help him any that the entire crew was on edge for a number of reasons. It was shocking enough that Megatron was dead and Starscream had the Allspark, but the Autobot attack on Mars had damaged their ship. It left them unable to use the Space Bridge pathways, setting back their return to Cybertron by several solar cycles. Starscream saw the situation as entirely unacceptable, but refused or denied the possibility of using the Cube to repair the ship. He had his reasons, and he wasn't sharing them with anyone. Brawl was accustomed to tense, dangerous predicaments, but he was entirely out his element here.

The tank put up an impressive front, stomping and snarling through the halls, trying to start fights just to avoid them. He kept as far away from the command deck as he possibly could, wanting to have nothing to do with Starscream. He knew the F-22 would call for him eventually, to iron out the details and make certain the tank didn't say anything he wasn't supposed to. Starscream had very little to worry about in that regard, as Brawl didn't want to think about what had happened on Earth any more than was necessary.

Not wanting to linger in one spot for too long, Brawl continued making rounds throughout the ship. He could tell he was grating on the nerves of the Seekers, which was exactly what he wanted. They needed to see him as a threat, not some dirt sucking ground pounder that couldn't see past his own gun turrets. He had made a habit of irritating the Communications Officer, loudly demanding when he could get in contact with his own Commander, Onslaught. That particular Seeker, whose name he strove to forget, had learned to hate him quickly, visibly tensing whenever Brawl walked into sight.

Parts of his bellicose demands were for show, but Brawl was truly anxious to speak with Onslaught. Granted, he wouldn't be able to say anything of importance to the military tactician, but it would calm his nerves. Onslaught always knew what to do. His main concern at this point was Starscream's possible interference, and that he might force the Combaticons further apart. They had never bothered hiding their disapproval of the F-22 and everything that he did, which made them quite a few enemies. While they had little love for Megatron, the tyrant was, had been, stronger and more inclined towards their military thinking. Brawl had been more than relieved when the tyrant was back in control, up until –

No, no, he was better off not thinking about it. He was going to have to relive it when Starscream finally decided to call him in, and then once again when he got the chance to report to Onslaught. Twice was enough. After that, he'd just start shooting if anyone asked him about it. Quite sooner than he expected, Brawl came to the communications room. He wasted no time in drawing himself up, trying to make himself look as threatening and belligerent as possible. Maybe he'd get thrown in the brig for riling the Seekers; it would be safer than wandering the halls with no backup. He had made so much of a nuisance of himself, he was surprised one of them hadn't shot him yet.

"Well?" Brawl bellowed, covering his anxiety with brute force. It almost didn't work this time, because the Communications Officer did not tense up or scowl or snap at him. Instead, he turned to face the tank, a sanguine smile on his face that nearly unglued Brawl's tough-guy front entirely.

"I'm afraid there's bad news," the Seeker said, though his expression was nothing short of gleeful. It made Brawl intensely uncomfortable, and he fought down the urge to smash the Seekers' head through the console. "We couldn't get through to the outpost in Garrus-7 because it no longer exists. The reports are just now being finished, but it's been confirmed - Onslaught and his entire regiment are dead."

There was a tense moment of silence, before Brawl declared: "Bullshit."

The Seeker frowned, obviously not understanding the human explicative. He squawked in protest when the tank pushed him out of the way, but made no move to physically resist him. Brawl began skimming over the report himself, a sense of dread pooling in his fuel tanks. The situation on Garrus-7 was a complicated, confused mess that somehow ended with every Decepticon and Autobot dead. It involved the native species, illegal weapons trade and half the planet going up in flames. There were no survivors, meaning that not only was Onslaught dead, but so was Swindle. Something flashed on the command console, and the Seeker edged his way back to his station.

"If you don't mind," the Communications Officer grumbled, tensing when Brawl hesitated before getting out of the way. "I would advise speaking with Starscream, as he's been notified of the, ah, situation."

"Sure," Brawl said blandly. The tank turned and left, knowing that staying any longer would result in a dead Seeker. Brawl felt unexpectedly numb at the news, but it quickly turned to white-hot rage. He did not head for the command deck, because he did not trust himself with his temper at the moment. It was always just under boiling to begin with, and his nerves were rubbed all wrong being stuck on a ship full of Seekers. He was outnumbered and directionless, the impulse to lash out growing exponentially with each passing moment.

Brawl repressed the urge to scream. Usually, if he couldn't open fire on anything, screaming himself hoarse helped. Here, it would attract unwanted attention. Worse, the Seekers would take it as grieving, which would give them no end of entertainment. Brawl did not want to give them the satisfaction. He was certainly upset by Onslaught's death, but not just because he had been a close friend for thousands of years. The military tactician had been his superior, the one mech that he trusted more than anyone else in the universe. He was the only Combaticon left now, and without Onslaught, he doubted he could even call himself that anymore.

Without a commander or a crew, Brawl was left out in the wide open for reassignment. Any Seeker on this ship that held rank over him could be his new superior officer, and that thought infuriated him all the more. He would most likely have to report directly to Starscream, since the F-22 had specifically requested him for the mission to Earth. With Onslaught gone, Starscream would assume he was next in the chain of command for Brawl. It was small consolation to him, then, that the Raptor couldn't have been more wrong.

Brawl wasn't going to let him know that there had been plenty of alliances, trades, and promises exchanged behind his back. Despite his skill and intelligence, Onslaught had known there was the possibility of his own death, and of leaving his subordinates leaderless. All of the commanders and team leaders had taken the necessary precautions to ensure survival if left to the whims of Starscream. It took Brawl a long while to notice, but all of those plans and trades and secrets ultimately led straight to one mech: Blackout.

Over the long, long years of the war, Blackout's original crew had been killed off one by one. Starscream made it no secret how much he hated Blackout, using and abusing his power to make the helicopter suffer where he should have shined. Before Tyger Pax, Blackout's sole function had been Special Ops, and his men were spies and saboteurs. They were sneaks, thieves, and liars, and did their best work in the dark and behind closed doors. What they were not designed for was duty on the front lines, ill equipped for full scale assaults. In all his madness and greed, Starscream had wasted their best intelligence officers, tossing them out in an attempt to get Blackout killed in the line of duty.

He ordered the Pave Low to fight in skirmishes that were logistically beyond all of them. It was a testament to Blackout's skills that they weren't all killed in one sitting. He kept his casualties low, despite all of them being thrown in over their heads. He was determined to win, learning new military tactics and strategies if only to spite Starscream. Reasoning with the F-22 was flagrant insubordination, as was outright challenging him, so Blackout had had to change gears. He replaced his dead comrades with the best of what little the Decepticon ranks had left to offer. Many of them lacked the skills of the previous saboteurs, but they had proven effective on the battle field. Blackout had tried for a combination, but Starscream was hell bent on seeing him fail.

Blackout stopped recruiting after he lost over half of them in Tyger Pax, a battle that had claimed two of Brawl's own team mates. Vortex had gotten shot down, and Blast Off had been on loan to the Pave Low at the time. After that massacre had ended, Blackout dismissed the remainder of his skeletal crew to the command of other officers. Their numbers dwindled to nothing, and Blackout limited himself to solo missions, claiming that his symbiote was the only backup he required.

Brawl remembered Onslaught's interest in what Blackout did in the time after Tyger Pax. The tank thought that the military tactician was considering replacing Blast Off with Blackout, but the Pave Low still held rank over Onslaught. Starscream ensured that anyone who was vocally loyal to Blackout either perished unexpectedly, or was kept as far from the Pave Low as possible. In retaliation, Blackout recruited in silence, and Starscream was content to think the helicopter had exhausted his supply of friends and allies. That was how Brawl had discovered Blackout's more underhanded techniques when it came to rebuilding a decent crew.

Blackout had not come to recruit Onslaught; he had been after the tank. Brawl could only guess at what their conversation might have been, since he arrived just as Blackout was leaving. Onslaught had explained his new orders carefully, outlining a new chain of command that wouldn't be written or spoken anywhere. Brawl did not know who else was involved, but that was what kept it a secret. Starscream was not stupid enough to think there were no plots behind his back, but the Pave Low's methods were remarkably untraceable.

Brawl knew he had to get off of the ship and as far away from Starscream as soon as he possibly could. He had no doubt that the Pave Low still lived, and more than likely had Barricade to assist him. Starscream had left the Mustang behind because he knew Barricade would betray him for Blackout. What Brawl didn't understand was why the F-22 had attacked Bonecrusher, but not him. The Combaticons were far more obvious about their dislike of the Seeker than the Constructicons, so what was Starscream playing at? He wondered if it was because he was a witness to – well, he'd rather not think of it.

This was why Brawl was not a ranking commander. He hated sitting around thinking about plots and plans and strategies, he just wanted to put them into motion so he could blow things up. The tank stopped in the middle of the corridor, realizing he had done so much thinking that he'd wound up near the engines. That meant he was at a dead end unless he was interested in the engines, so he turned around, deciding that facing Starscream would be his next task. Unfortunately, he found three Seekers blocking his path, lead by Thundercracker.

"You're wanted on the command deck," Thundercracker rumbled, his vocalizer still off pitch from his battle on Mars. Brawl felt his hands clench, stuffing down the desire to start bellowing. It was not good that Thundercracker himself had come to fetch the tank. "I don't think Starscream would be too pleased to find out you're hiding back here, ignoring him."

"I wasn't ignoring him," Brawl snapped, ire rising quickly. One of the Seekers shifted, and the tank's fighting instincts flared even hotter. He was beginning to feel boxed in, and every tiny motion the Seekers made looked threatening to Brawl.

"Then I suppose you were lost?" a second Seeker sneered. "Spent too long with your head in the mud?"

"No," Brawl snarled. "I wasn't –"

"Thinking?" the third Seeker interrupted, and Brawl fought mightily to control himself. It was the Communications Officer, still wearing that hideous grin. "We already knew that. I told you to report to Starscream, didn't I? And here you are, bawling in the corner over your lost Commander –"

"Don't you even -!" Brawl started to defend Onslaught, knowing if they outright insulted him, he would lose it completely. His threat was cut off when the ship suddenly lurched, the frame shuddering and groaning. Both Thundercracker and Brawl hit the wall, while the other Seekers toppled to the floor, squawking in surprise. The lights flickered, and then everything went red, sirens blaring in alarm.

"Dammit!" Thundercracker swore, stepping over the other stunned Seekers. "Get up and get to the command deck! Now!"

The Seekers scrambled over one another until they were both running, but Thundercracker rounded on Brawl.

"You too, dirtsucker!" he snapped, shouting to be heard over the alarms. The ship shuddered again, and then the dark blue Seeker was gone, hot on the heels of the others.

Brawl was in far less of a hurry, but he didn't lag too far behind. He'd rather know what was happening, hoping there was a fight in the near future. The ship pitched three more times before the tank made it up to the command deck, which was swarming with most of the flight crew by now. He would have gotten more pleasure in watching Seekers get thrown around had he not struck his head against the bulkheads twice already. Starscream was nearly blowing out his vocalizer he was screeching so loudly.

"Get them off of us!" Starscream shrieked, his tone full of impatient fury. Brawl stumbled his way to one of the weapons consoles, identifying the problem rather quickly. It seemed some form of Autobot convoy had ambushed them, and the ship had taken quite a pounding before managing to retaliate. "How far is our docking point?"

"Not far, they know we're coming –" Thundercracker started, before Starscream interrupted him with another shriek.

"Then why aren't they assisting us!?" the F-22 howled, most of the crew on deck cringing.

"They're inbound!" a Seeker that Brawl did not know said, his voice full of panic. "The Autobots are attacking the compound there as well, it's all they can spare!"

"Just get us planetside, we'll take care of these foul Autobots there!" Starscream ordered, gripping the command console as the ship shuddered again. Brawl braced himself against the wall, watching the numerous feeds tell them how badly they were doing.

"Hull breach on level two!" Thundercracker announced, swearing as the security systems went haywire. "They're coming in!"

Brawl was gone in an instant, cannons charging. Thundercracker ordered a pair of Seekers to assist him, but the tank did not hear it. This was a situation that Brawl could work with; pounding Autobots into scrap always did wonders for his temper. Rounding the corner, the tank nearly had his head taken off by a rifle shot. The Seekers recoiled at once, intending to take cover and deal with the Autobots from there. Brawl had a more straight forward tactic to deal with them.

With an animalistic bellow, the tank dove into the Autobot strike force, using his momentum to take out two of them with his arms. The Autobots went down hard, and Brawl swept past them, already opening fire on the other four members of the team. Half of them dropped back for cover, while the others attempted to deflect the advancing 'Con. Brawl had had a lot worse than bullets thrown at him during the course of the war, and they did little more than irritate him. The Autobots realized they should be running once the tank was already on top of them.

The Combaticon's claws sank into the armor of the nearest Autobot, slicing through his neck cords and stopping in his chassis. When Brawl pulled back, the claws stuck, bringing his assailant with him. Before his companion could take advantage of that error, Brawl merely used the Autobot as a blunt object, slamming them both into the wall. That loosened up his claws, and the tank pulled them free, turning just in time to have his left shoulder mount blown off by another rifle shot. Snarling more in anger than pain, Brawl hefted the still conscious Autobot, using him as a shield.

The remaining two units from the strike force immediately ceased fire, and Brawl started forward, keeping his temporary shield high in the air. The Autobot struggled against his grip, stalling when Brawl's claws extended frighteningly close to his head. Once he was within twenty feet of the corridor the others were lurking behind, the three of them tried for a joint attack. The Autobot he was holding released his shoulder mounted cannons, but Brawl was already hauling him the side, smashing his head against the wall. The other Autobots had unwisely chosen their regular guns, which did absolutely nothing to deter Brawl.

Before dropping the Autobot, the tank twisted his head between both hands, relishing in the sound his snapping neck cords made. Bullets tinged off his thicker armor and the surrounding wall, nothing more than biting insects as far as he was concerned. Brawl roared again, charging forward to deal with the remaining Autobots. They attempted to split up; one to fight off Brawl, the other dashing off to complete whatever mission he might have. Brawl had no intention of the giving them the chance, lunging forward and ripping the arm off of the one that had stayed behind.

The mech wailed in pain, but did not go down, instead surging forward and grabbing onto the tank to waylay him. He felt pain shoot up his side, as the mech no doubt had some sort of blade attached to his good arm. Brawl ripped him off of his side, hauling back and hurtling the mech down the corridor after his fleeing comrade. His aim could have been better, but he managed to clip the Autobot's legs, both of them tumbling across the floor. The tank was already on top of them before they came to a stop, shoving his claws through the head of one of them.

The remaining Autobot scrambled backwards, trying desperately to escape the murderous tank. Brawl grabbed him by the foot, pulling him back. The Autobot lifted his arm, a small plasma cannon whirring to life as he took aim and opened fire. The shot hit Brawl dead on, but the charge was too low to cause him to recoil. Ignoring the burn on his chest, Brawl brought his foot down on the Autobot's neck, grinding for good measure.

There was movement behind him, and Brawl whirled around, cannons charging to life. He barely relaxed his triggers when he saw two Seekers, who had followed in his wake to ensure the Autobots were either dead or incapacitated. The pair froze when he targeted them, which pleased the tank to no end. They were actually afraid of him, worried that he might mistake them for Autobots and fire on them. The Autobot beneath him twitched, but his personal comm link flared to life, and Thundercracker's baritone vocalizer came through.

"Brawl, there's a second team coming through on level 7. Cut them off!"

The tank grunted, starting forward to make it to the appropriate level on time. No doubt Starscream had watched his entire battle from the command deck, content to sit back and observe. On the way, he assessed his damage, finding it minimal. Oddly enough, the bullets had done the most damage, if only because it would take him ages to shake them all out. The plasma wound on his chest still smoldered, but it was a dull ache compared to the battle lust that raged through his fuel lines. If he could just keep on fighting, he wouldn't have to think about anything else. He wouldn't have to worry about Bonecrusher, or Blackout, or Megatron –

Brawl did not reach level 7 before being assaulted by the next group of Autobots, which meant they were far more efficient that the previous group. It stood to reason that the first group would be a distraction, but it had been a wasteful one. This team consisted of only four Autobots, all of them smaller, faster, and much more nimble. They were not heavily armed, nor was their armor rated to defend them against Brawl's cannons. One of them went down with one shot, howling as his left leg was blown off at the knee joint. The rest scattered, and Brawl suddenly found himself swamped by the small Autobots.

The tank made a grab for the nearest one, snarling in pain as the Autobot shoved their fist up into his wounded side. The Autobot yelped as Brawl made a wide swipe with his hand, the sound giving her away as a femme. One of her companions quickly pulled her out of the Brawl's reach, as the third one made off with their crippled teammate. Undeterred, the tank started after them, knowing he could follow the trail of leaking Energon if he lost sight of them.

Something grinded between the gears in his side, and his systems suddenly detected the presence of a foreign object. Brawl scrambled to remove it at the same time he heard the faint beep of a grenade set to detonate. The tank threw himself against the wall to try to contain it, before all he felt was liquid fire ripping through his frame, and then nothing at all.

Everything was burning. The entire city seemed to have been built and raised out of flames, a ceaseless, raging inferno that threatened to swallow them whole. The ground beneath his feet was hot, covered in ash and soot and burning embers. He could no longer see the sky, so thick was the smoke and the fire. It felt as though his armor would boil off of him, air filters clogged in seconds. Tyger Pax was being reduced to cinders and the battle had barely begun.

"Keep moving!" Onslaught barked, cutting the path for them. Brawl was right at his heels, turning every so often to check that the others were still there. It was impossible to see all of them through the smoke, but he had to have faith that they were still there. Vortex was the closet, running alongside the tank as they swept through the streets, rifles ready for an Autobot ambush.

The attack had been a complete surprise, taking all of them off guard. The way the Autobots fought had given Onslaught the impression that they hadn't been expecting it either. Perhaps it was the ferocity of the assault that shocked them all; how many were still burning from the initial strike? How many more would burn with the city before the inferno ran out of fuel?

Finally, Onslaught led them out of the raging fire and into a relatively clear spot. The fire would overtake them before long, but for the moment, they rested, clearing their vents and cooling their armor. Brawl looked back, seeing that the seven other Decepticons they had been with were all accounted for. He only knew three of them by name, each of them from a different strike team or group. They had all gotten separated during the first attack, and had immediately attached to Onslaught's unit when they were found.

Behind them, the fire began to catch up, black smoke pouring out of the building they were sheltered near. Onslaught had his head bowed, one hand clamped over his audial receptor, and Brawl knew he was trying to pick up a signal. The tactician nodded to himself a few times, before straightening up and looking over at his makeshift team.

"We're regrouping up at the Summit," he said, louder than necessarily. He had become accustomed to shouting in order to being heard, especially on the battlefield. "We don't know what the Autobots are up to, but we're not going down without a fight."

There was a collective outcry of agreement, all of the assembled mechs either nodding or hefting their weapons. Vortex ribbed Brawl, flipping up his visor and releasing his battle mask to grin at his comrade.

"Ten cubes of high grade say my body count's higher than yours," the flier bribed, and Brawl considered.

"You're on," Brawl laughed. "Besides, you're already behind! I nailed the sniper on the way out of the warehouse, remember?"

"That just motivates me all the more!" Vortex laughed along with the tank, but their conversation was cut short when Onslaught stood to move them out. The flier's visor and mask snapped back into place, and he trotted after his Commander, Brawl in tow. The other 'Cons grouped behind them, keeping in a tight-knit formation that ensures they were all covered. Onslaught slowed their pace when a firefight could be heard up ahead, and they all crouched low. They didn't want to wind up on the wrong side of the battlefield, after all.

Onslaught brought them to a halt, all of them dropping flat on the ground with one signal from his hand. The tactician motioned to one of the mechs that Brawl did not know, and he got up and scurried off, scouting ahead. This was the part that Brawl hated the most: sitting and waiting when there was a battle not 100 yards away. After an agonizing few minutes, the mech trotted back into sight, stooping to avoid being a target. He dropped down next to Onslaught, relaying what he'd seen.

"We're behind the Autobots," the tactician said, twisting to face the rest of the team. "Rampage, take your teammates up the nearest street, it will take you to the others so you can assist them. I want everyone else with me. There are three known snipers up above, the rest are either gunners or shock troops. Vortex, the snipers are yours. Ground troops are fair game. Brawl, try to save some for the rest of us."

Onslaught did not wait for acknowledgement, already getting to his feet. Rampage took off with two of the others, vanishing into the smoke.

"Ten cubes," Vortex reminded his comrade, breaking off from the rest of the group so he could transform. Brawl nodded, turning his attention back to his Commander as Vortex rose into the air and out of sight. Their wager was hollow, and done only out of tradition and morale boosting. There was no longer any high grade to be bartered or exchange, as it was a luxury lost to them along with so many of their teammates.

Onslaught stopped them again, and they all took cover wherever they could, the Autobots within range. Brawl felt his mech fluid pumping in his lines, the promise of a bloody battle making him twitchy. His Commander held them in position long enough for all of them to count their enemies' numbers and memorize their positions before striking. The exact moment Onslaught raised his hand to order the attack, fire erupted behind them, and half of them were thrown forward from the force of the explosion.

The Autobots they had been stalking had apparently already called for backup, as an entire regiment of new Autobots were suddenly rushing at them. Caught in the middle and disoriented from the blast, Onslaught struggled to bring his troops to bear. Brawl was the first one to retaliate, opening fire on the new units while Onslaught started on their original targets. The other four 'Cons split between the two Combaticons, following their lead even as they were swarmed by Autobots.

From there, everything Brawl remembered blended together in pain, rage, fire, bullets, plasma cannons and a mental tally of fallen Autobots. At some point, they lost total control of the situation, and Onslaught was driven back to Brawl's position. Their lucky break came when the 'Cons on the other side suddenly burst through, scattering Autobots in every direction.

Above them, fire bloomed through the smoke, and Brawl could not stop himself from looking up. Vortex came crashing down on the battlefield in an impressive fireball, smashing to pieces upon impact on the ground. For some reason, Brawl felt his processors lock up at the sight, and everything else seemed to stagger to a standstill.

"This is a bad memory," Onslaught said, startling the tank. His tone was not right, and Brawl had no recollection of his commander saying that during the battle. Time felt disjointed, as everything else started moving forward while he and Onslaught remained fixed in place. "You know what I've told you about those."

"I should forget them," Brawl said, nodding at his superior officer's oft given advice. "I should move forward."

"Well," Onslaught said dryly. "In this instance, just wake up."

Brawl jerked out of his recharge cycle violently, sitting upright and scattering medical tools everywhere. He heard two shouts of surprise, followed by two pairs of hands pushing him flat on his back.

"I thought I told you to sedate him!" a familiar voice snapped.

"I did!" a second, also familiar voice responded, just as waspish. "I think you're forgetting who we're dealing with here!"

The tank laid still, four hands resting on his shoulders. They were not applying any pressure, but were merely reminding him that he shouldn't be sitting up anytime soon. There was a dull, stabbing pain coming from his side, and he struggled to figure out what could have caused that. He had been in a battle, but Tyger Pax had happened a long time ago. After a moment, his systems finally caught up with the sensory input, and Brawl looked up at Scrapper and Hook.

"That hurt," Brawl said simply, referring to the grenade that had gone off under his armor. It must not have been fully charged or armed; otherwise he assumed he would be dead. The two Constructicons exchanged looks, before Hook snorted.

"I'm sure it did," Hook sneered, dropping his hands and moving out of Brawl's line of sight.

"What's impressive is that you weren't torn in half," Scrapper said, also removing hands, but shifting to inspect Brawl's injured side. The Constructicon studied him intently, finger tapping against his armor as he considered the wound. "If that grenade had gone in any further, your spark would have been extinguished. Lucky for you, it only blew off the armor from your alt mode. Really, the biggest problem was putting you out."

"Putting me out?" Brawl asked, shifting enough so he could look down at what Scrapper was doing. The hole wasn't as big as he thought it would be, but he had no idea how long he'd been down for the count.

"You were on fire," Hook drawled from wherever he was in the room. "So was half the corridor."

"Oh," Brawl said. That would explain why he was jet black now. He was glad that explosion had knocked him out, because he didn't like being on fire. Using the arm of his good side, Brawl tried to brush off some of the soot, but it only caused it to smear.

"You'll be fully healed by the end of this solar cycle, or sooner," Scrapper announced, picking up a data pad that hadn't been knocked off when Brawl had woken up. His tone was not matter-of-fact, and Brawl had the distinct feeling that the Constructicon was accusing him of something.

"What happened?" Brawl asked, hoping to prevent the engineer from doing any actual accusing.

"Starscream flew headlong into an Autobot convoy," Scrapper sighed, shaking his head. The Constructicon lowered his voice somewhat, and glanced over his shoulder in an entirely paranoid manner. "The Autobots that blew you up also took out your engines. They did considerable damage before they were flushed out, and your ship went down. The pilot barely managed to land it within our territory, but the Autobots have backed off for now. The others are working on getting the ship running again, and you'll be ready to move out in a few solar cycles."

Brawl assumed that the 'others' consisted of the remaining Constructicons, Scavenger, Mixmaster, Long Haul, and –

The memory of Bonecrusher's unknown fate hit the tank like a brick wall. Under normal circumstances, Brawl would have spilled everything to them right then and there. Unfortunately, he knew they could not speak freely, considering the way Scrapper kept throwing looks over his shoulder. He wanted to tell them, even if he couldn't tell them with certainty that Bonecrusher had survived. The mine sweeper had been hanging on by a thread when Brawl had gotten to him, and activating his distress beacon might have done nothing at all.

He wondered why the other Constructicons were still functioning, seeing as Starscream had not hesitated when he targeted the mine sweeper. The only reason he could fathom was that the F-22 must have realized that he needed them. For the time being, they were required to ensure the repairs of his ship and his crew. What would happen to them after that, Brawl did not know.

"Have you come in contact with the Allspark?" Scrapper asked flatly, looking back over Brawl's wound with false interest.

"No," Brawl said, then realized he was lying. It was never a good idea to lie to a Constructicon, especially when convalescing in their medical bay. "Yes. I – it was just for a few seconds. It repaired me after Mission City."

"The injuries you sustained during the fight are healing over at an accelerated rate," Scrapper said, his tone strictly professional. "This is consistent with the lasting effects of contact with the Cube."

"Uh, okay –" Brawl started when Scrapper suddenly leaned down, optic band flashing.

"Where is Bonecrusher?" he hissed, though he was looking past the tank. Brawl thought he was looking at Hook, since that was the direction the surgeon had wandered off. "Starscream will tell us nothing, and you were stationed on Earth with Bonecrusher. Tell us."

"Scrapper," Hook's tone was warning, and the engineer pulled back, angrily punching buttons on his data pad. Brawl turned his head as best he could, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He saw Hook had taken a seat at one of the work benches, but his attention was focused on the opposite wall. The tank could not see what he was looking at without being completely obvious, but he was certain now that they were being monitored. At least, the Constructicons were being monitored, which only broadcasted Starscream's distrust for them.

"If Starscream won't tell you, why should I?" Brawl growled, deciding he didn't care who heard him. Scrapper recoiled slightly, surprised at the Combaticon's tone. The tank was not happy about posing as their enemy, but he really had no other choice. He would play the part long enough to get him, and hopefully the rest of the Constructicons, back to Blackout.

"When you're fully repaired, you're to report to Lord Starscream," Scrapper said tightly, before walking away from the Combaticon briskly. Brawl knew he couldn't avoid the F-22 forever, and for once, he did not look forward to his repair programs being completed. The room was fraught with tension, especially after Scrapper's emphasis on the word Lord. Obviously, he did not like the sound of it. And to be perfectly honest, neither did Brawl.

A/N: Lots of Autobots were harmed in the making of this story. Thanks for the reviews!