There are some fairly significant changes between this chapter and the original version of it, including an extra scene and entirely reworked dialogue. Hopefully I caught all the errors from the original edit... Constructive criticism is loved and helps me improve, so please feel free to leave it! My writing may have gotten a little rusty since my hiatus: anything helps.

I don't own Beast Wars or any of its properties. Slipstream as he appears here is owned by MyBlueOblivion. Enjoy!

How was I considered evil?

It's the closing of the curtain in the play that was my life

Fate is so unkind

Overburdened - Disturbed

i

Pain.

He was accustomed to it, but not like this. This was mean, underhanded pain that came out of nowhere and he had no idea how to deal with it. Living on Cybertron, he was used to being attacked: he was a Predacon. Homeless on the streets, random attacks on Preds like him was a daily occurrence. He at least knew when they were coming, learned to anticipate and deal with it, but this...

This was unknown territory, and he hadn't seen this attack coming.

He landed and stumbled into the entryway of the Darkside, shaking with effort and holding back sobs. The ache in his arm had turned into a brutal burn, and when he realized he was crying, he couldn't stop. He held his damaged limb close to his chest, shaking with cold even when the heat from the lava pits intensified, and—

When he entered the bridge, he heard the familiar squawk of his friend. Seconds later, Terrorsaur was pulling him aside, trying to pry his arm away from his chest so he could look.

"For Pitt's sake, Waspinator!" Terrorsaur's optics blazed in a mix of frustration and fear. "Primus, what happened!?"

"Wazzpinator got bit," the wasp started, choking back sobs. "Wazzpinator got bit... by a dog!"

"Waspinator— oh are you kidding?" That was Blackarachnia. The femme turned from her station, frowning. "You got attacked by some organic?"

"Situation normal, then," Megatron echoed, not even looking up from his throne's console. He was analyzing the Golden Disk data, for the millionth time.

"It was a BIG dog!" Waspinator shuddered with the memory, choking back more wails. His whole body had a headache from being swatted out of the sky, chased under fallen logs, and being barraged by snapping jaws until his arm managed to get caught in a set of crushing teeth. If he hadn't managed to retrieve his gun from where it had fallen, he would have never scared the monster off – and it was a monster. "TRIED TO EAT WAZZPINATOR!"

"Waspy! Waspy! Come on, pull yourself together, let's get you to the CR chamber—"

"Wazzpinator wants to go to ROOM! WAZZPINATOR—!" He broke down crying, burying his face in his good hand. He kept the other pressed against him, hiding his mangled arm, desperate to get out of the limelight. He was embarrassed. He was hurting.

Why did the universe hate him?

"Okay, Waspy: no CR chamber. Let's get you to your room and I'll get the field kit to wrap that up..." Terrorsaur moved between him and the rest of the bridge, effectively shielding Waspinator from view of the other Predacons. An arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him, and Waspinator fleetingly wondered what he had deserved to have such a good friend.

The universe hated him... but not enough to off Terrorsaur and leave him alone again, just like he had been on Cybertron.

As they left the room, Waspinator noticed two things. For one, Scorponok was watching from his console, expression unreadable.

For another, the burning in his battered had turned into a steady pulsation. In the weeks that followed, that pulse turned into hunting drums. In the months soon after, it turned into the steady, thundering footfalls of a wolf racing up the twilight mountainside.

Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.

ii

By morning, Scorponok woke up with the worst headache he'd ever had entire life. His legs were murderously sore, the claw indentations on his chest burned like laser scorching...

His internal alarm buzzed irritatingly inside his head, and it took him a little over thirty seconds to finally bring himself to shut the damn thing off. He awoke, more or less glad to be taken away from another one of his nightmares, and strained to sit up. Everything hurt – at least the nightmares didn't ache like this. Scorponok's optics slowly onlined as obnoxious static flashed across his vision before his sight returned, and he found himself staring at the wall beside his berth. His shadow was cast over the dark colored wall and the floodlight was on behind him at full luminosity: had he not turned it off before going to bed the night before? Scorponok tried to remember when he had turned the light on in his quarters in the first place, and to his disturbance, he realized he hadn't. How had he even gotten back?

As his processor struggled further and further to fully come to, he started to remember everything the night before. The nightmares he had while asleep felt like wonderlands in comparison.

He scooted back and leaned against the back wall with another bout of difficulty. The ache was getting worse as he became more cognizant of it. The mechanic's head throbbed when he tried to move, and his chest seared with a dull, fiery twinge reminiscent to the burning radiation from the lava pits. Looking down through hazy optics (and a slightly muddy visor), he could see the claw marks on his chest cutting through the usually smooth surface of his beast-mode hide. It was hideously noticeable.

"Urgh… computer, give me a time reading."

"Acknowledged. Time reading is five hundred hours. Shift to start in two megacycles."

The sun wouldn't be up yet, so neither would most of the Predacons. At night, usually the only thing online in the command center was the automatic weapon systems to keep the base protected. By the thought of it, Scorponok was sure he could slip in and out of the CR chamber to repair himself before anyone would have a chance to see his injuries. Then he'd take on his monitor duty early for the hell of it – he still owed Blackarachnia that favor.

Scorponok reduced his optical feedback and looked at the industrial lamp beside his berth. Several things immediately bothered him right away when he caught sight of it. For one, he really couldn't remember turning it on when he entered his quarters the night before. Shock could only affect his memory so much – and he was sure he would've recalled the blast of the floodlights in his optics. For another thing, Scorponok could also see that the lamp's head was aimed high towards the ceiling. It made his quarters slightly darker and not as horribly bright as usual, but Scorponok knew the head of the light was supposed to be aimed towards his desk across the small closet.

With a renewed sense of alarm, he realized someone really had been in his room the night before. And there were only three mechs who it could have possibly been.

Scorponok swung his feet off the side of the berth, feeling his legs protest as he kept watching the lamp's light aimed towards the ceiling with uneasiness until he tried to stand. His legs gave out – the pseudo-muscles felt like jelly. Scorponok's knees buckled and he collapsed forward, falling hard on his chest to make the injuries already there flare painfully. He groaned aloud as soon as he found his voice to do so, straining his arms to move. Primus, even his arms felt like they were going to fall off. The night before gave him enough of a workout to last him for another decacycle. Pushing himself up, he found, was far more taxing then the scorpion Predacon would've liked to admit. He rolled over onto his aft, drew his knees up, and fixed an elbow onto his left knee so he could lean his head against his claw.

It took him some time to get to the command center with his unrealistically aching body – nearly twenty cycles – but he managed to limp there without running into anyone. No one was in the bridge when he took to a CR chamber and climbed onto the lift and submerged himself in the healing solution. Despite his body starting to heal, his mind fractured and raced the whole while: continuously reviewing and re-reviewing what had gone down the night before and what it all meant. Slowly, the pieces started to fit together.

Terrorsaur had been bit by some kind of vampire when he was mauled in the woods. Probably something organic that, due to their beast-modes, had an effect on them in spite of their Cybertronian origins. Inferno and Waspinator had killed it when they went to rescue Terrorsaur, then brought him back to base with the aforementioned knowledge of what the monster was... and what Terrorsaur was going to turn into. Inferno wanted to kill him – Waspinator kept the ant-mech at bay to further preserve his friend's life, but Terrorsaur started to die for a whole new reason. Infected and turned, Terrorsaur had starved himself for three days, becoming slowly more and more ravenous, and that was the reason Waspinator had made such an outburst when Megatron suggested Scorponok remain in the base that day they found the first mutilated protoform. Waspinator had known that Terrorsaur would end up killing the mechanic, so the wasp opted to stay instead. But Terrorsaur was already gone, escaped out of the base by some unknown means. Scorponok wondered if it was the vents.

Terrorsaur hunted out of desperation: and he murdered his first protoform.

He processed his fill of the snuffed protoform and was already back at the base when the rest of the Predacons returned. When Scorponok saw sight of Waspinator as they came back, he looked as though he had been yelled at because Inferno had yelled at him, furiously chastising the mech for allowing Terrorsaur to get out of the Darkside to kill. The downward spiral had already started: Waspinator was in the hot seat, but he still refused to put his friend out of his misery.

The situation repeated again with the second protoform. Terrorsaur was out again, this time when Waspinator urged him to stay as far away from the drop zone of the pod as possible, but the red flier couldn't control the urge to pursue defenseless prey. He tried to drag it away to make it look like the protoform just got up and left, but the newborn vampire hadn't gone far enough: Scorponok still stumbled across the body anyways. Waspinator remained steadfast in his determination to keep his wingmate safe, but Inferno finally broke his promise to help Waspinator: the pyromaniac decided to break his silence and suggested to Megatron that the same sort of monster that attacked Terrorsaur was now probably the one responsible for killing the protoforms. It wasn't an outright giveaway that Terrorsaur himself was the monster, but Waspinator was infuriated about it anyways. That was why Waspinator had looked so angry.

When Scorponok saw them in the hallway talking underneath the swinging hall lamp, the mechanic knew now they were talking about Terrorsaur. It explained why Waspinator was so upset when Inferno told him they would have to kill the wasp's wingmate if Terrorsaur attacked any of the other Beast Warriors. Unfortunately for the animals in the field, Terrorsaur's beast-mode half now needed blood to satisfy his vampiric urges. The mech managed to somehow get out of the base again, only this time he hunted the fifty-something animals that they found all slaughtered in the meadow. Plus one gazelle.

Waspinator had been prepared for the worst, but he obviously hadn't expected the carnage to be as bad as it had by a longshot: hence the vomiting. Inferno was absolutely enraged by comparison: despite the fact no other Beast Warrior lost a life, the parting glare he left Waspinator when Megatron told him to secure the perimeter was an absolute indication of this. Terrorsaur was still in the area, of course: completely feral from the high amount of blood he consumed. Terrorsaur, more than likely trying to suck whatever blood remained in the saber-toothed tiger head he had, was probably startled by the pyromaniac and attacked in self-defense. Inferno wasn't prompted to fire in an attempt to defend himself though. No: Inferno was trying to kill the pterodactyl.

Then Terrorsaur screamed. It was a howl for help. Waspinator had been the first to start running because he was trying to protect Terrorsaur.

That was when the puzzle Scorponok finally pieced together started to fall apart: starting with the wolves.

When Scorponok fell over the ledge and broke his ankle, Waspinator had turned into a massive wolf – the black one – and went in pursuit of Terrorsaur as he tried to evade Inferno. He did somehow get away from the fire-ant, but the mist left everyone separated: and with Waspinator hot on his wingmate's tail, Terrorsaur and Scorponok managed to cross paths. Seeing Scorponok trip and fall off another ledge some few feet away triggered the mech's hunting instincts again… and so the hunt began anew with Scorponok on the menu. Terrorsaur herded Scorponok closer to a large tree without him realizing and had jumped into the branches to await a time to attack, but Scorponok looked up to see him covered in blood and dirt before the newborn vampire could strike. Scorponok reeling away was something that triggered Terrorsaur's urge to hunt tenfold. Screaming was the worst thing the mechanic could havepossibly done, and Terrorsaur was immediately delirious with murderous intent. T

Then Waspinator showed and saved Scorponok's life – and that was Waspinator. The Predacon wolf managed to chase Terrorsaur off, then gave himself time to shift back from – whatever – he was. It was why he was covered in in so much dirt, why he lied about not seeing the wolf himself, and why his eyes were exactly the same as the dog's.

The shadowy figure that watched them leave was Terrorsaur, finally coming back to his senses. Scorponok knew it. It had to be.

Then Waspinator lied about Terrorsaur not being bit when Scorponok asked him about it. Obviously.

Then the red flier went out again that night.

The irony that Scorponok was the one to run into Terrorsaur again nearly made the poor mechanic ill. After finding all the bodies, after nearly being eaten himself, it came down to Scorponok trying to play hero and running nearly face first into the mech he suspected the least all along. Despite the fact the vampire seemed to react violently at, his reaction when Inferno and Waspinator showed up was far, far from what the mechanic expected. He thought after seeing the horrid animal and protoform mutilations that Terrorsaur would be a monster, but Terrorsaur wasn't what Scorponok expected at all.

Terrorsaur begged Inferno – another wolf – to let him live.

The last time Scorponok saw him, Terrorsaur looked about ready to cry as he bolted off into the woods. It disturbed Scorponok just as much as seeing his light repositioned in his room. Before the healing solutions of the tub made his mind tumble into unconsciousness, it briefly crossed his processer that maybe Terrorsaur had turned his light on in the middle of the night. So he wouldn't have to be lost in the dark like the red flier had been since he turned into a vampire.

After all, in Waspinator's words, there were scary things that lurked in the dark.

iii

"Ah, Terrorsaur! Good to see your functional! How did you repair your injuries? If I recall, you never checked in to use a CR chamber."

Scorponok froze at his station, nearly snapping one of his best tools clean in half under the weight of his own claw.

The mechanic was almost too horrorstruck to move, until the natural float of his hoverpad caused him to shift in the direction Terrorsaur emerged from. The tyrant sat on his throne, leaning slightly towards the mech he was addressing, and the mech that was the target of his address merely stood with his arms crossed over his torso. Terrorsaur looked the same as ever, scowling and pale faced with his hip locked to one side. He looked annoyed. Waspinator hovered beside him – maybe a little too close – and Inferno nowhere in immediate sight: the fire ant had apparently signed out early that morning, opting to go on patrol alone.

Terrorsaur's voice wasn't in the pained tenor it had been the night before: he sounded normal, or as normal as Terrorsaur could sound. "My systems were stable enough last night that Waspinator was able to dump me into a tank without my processors going into shock. The idiot forgot to turn on the memory log."

That was a lie, Scorponok knew. Holy scrap, what a lie.

The green flier next to Terrorsaur razzed. "Wazzpinator would have remembered to if Terror-bot wasn't so heavy," the wasp in question scoffed. He crossed his arms and pointed his head upward and away from the conversation in mock hurt. As if it were a totally typical exchange, as if this was a normal morning in general, Waspinator went completely ignored.

Megatron nodded thoughtfully, his expression unwavering. "I see, yesss. Did Waspinator bring you up to date on current situations?"

Terrorsaur's stance changed slightly. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, though that was all. Terrorsaur's face didn't indicate a change in emotion whatsoever. "Yeah. The monster that attacked me has us in a temporary truce with the Maximals. Any idea on what it is?"

"No, but I was hoping you could remember something," Megatron mused quietly. "Can you recall anything?"

"Nothing much," Terrorsaur said, scoffing irritably. He uncrossed and dropped his arms back to his sides before he rested a hand on the butt of his weapon holstered in a subspace pocket. His other hand rapped against his upper thigh in what looked to be a totally unconscious gesture. Scorponok could've given him an Emmy for his acting: Earthlings that starred in some famous vampire movies won those regularly, he remembered from his research. "If I could, I'd tell you. If anything, I want to kill that thing personally."

A lie. Scorponok shuddered.

Megatron sat in silent contemplation, his face was hard with a thoughtfulness that seemed somehow… uncharacteristic? Yes, Megatron looked apprehensive. Maybe Scorponok wasn't the only one who noticed Terrorsaur's brighter-than-usual red optics. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard. "Very well. Your duty will be shortened for today due to the injuries you suffered, but I expect you to be at complete capacity tomorrow, yesss. I cannot afford a weak link in my ranks while this monster is still about." He made a wide, sweeping gesture with his arm towards a cluster of consoles across the room. "Take up the monitors over there. Keep your optics on them at all times and report back anything even mildly suspicious. Whatever this thing is, it moves fast."

"Don't need to tell me," Terrorsaur murmured before turning away.

His optics locked with Scorponok's.

As soon as the red flier had turned, he looked up and met Scorponok's eyes instantaneously. It felt like a senseless eternity, like Scorponok had been shoved into ice water, and he desperately resisted the urge to tremble when he was assaulted by memories from the night before. The logical part of him wanted to think that what he had gone through for the past week had been a sick nightmare. Seeing Terrorsaur so normal, the way even Waspinator was acting...

Even after a long CR bath, his chest still burned. No: last night had been very, very real. Out of the corner of his vision, Scorponok saw Waspinator tense and look on nervously. An immediate indication that it was no nightmare. It was stone cold reality.

Terrorsaur suddenly broke the eye contact, forcing his head aside, as he maneuvered his hover pad away to work on the console Blackarachnia had used when they saw the animals get mutilated. Waspinator glanced nervously again at Scorponok, his eyes anxious, before he shifted to beast-mode and exited the base to go on patrol.

With neither Waspinator or Inferno in the base, Scorponok suddenly realized with terror that it left him, Tarantulus, Blackarachnia, and Megatron all alone with Terrorsaur. After everything they had gone through in the past week, the cause of their temporary truce with the Maximals, the slaughtered animals, and the deaths of the protoforms was in the room with them.

But Terrorsaur never attacked anyone.

The red flier watched the monitors in front of him the entire time, keeping his legs crossed in his seat with elbow propped on his knee and the side of his face pressed against his fist. He looked bored, scowling and looking like the typical, selfish, scheming mech he was. He never moved once, not even when Blackarachnia passed – what Scorponok thought to be – dangerously close to the red flier. The only time Terrorsaur spoke was to exclaim he saw something on the monitor, but a quick scan showed it to only be Optimus and Dinobot in the same sector with the slain animals. When Megatron called them up to see what in the Pitt they were doing, they replied they were examining and cremating the animal remains before cutting off the link.

After a half hour on his shortened shift though, the vampire approached Scorponok.

The red flier had come up beside him almost as if out of nowhere – the mechanic never even heard Megatron dismiss him – and he was too horrorstruck to move when he realized Terrorsaur was less than a few mere inches away. He wasn't sure what frightened him more: the fact the red flier was so close now, or the fact he had actually let his guard down while in the same room as him. The flier looked straight ahead of him and past Scorponok, not meeting the mechanic's gaze, lazily contemplating the monitor Scorponok was watching. There wasn't anything interesting there, of course.

Terrorsaur spoke softly before he turned his hover pad away and left the control room. "My quarters right after your shift ends. We need to talk."

iv

Not even a megacycle later, Scorponok stood rigid just outside Terrorsaur's quarters.

After Terrorsaur had spoken to him, he left without waiting for a reply. After he left the command center, the mechanic nearly lost all his nerve. Horrible images of what happened to him the night prior danced through Scorponok's head, and all the way from across the command center, Tarantulus snapped him to screw his chattering claws shut or else the mad scientist "would do it for him." The grey mechanic had his ability to focus work ripped away from him, and it only got worse when Megatron reminded him sometime later that his shift was now over. Scorponok tried to ask if he could have an extra hour, but Tarantulus shoved past him to claim his station before he found his voice. There was no convincing Tarantulus to take monitor duty off, either: he was determined to catch the monster for his own purposes. Probably experimentation.

The mechanic had no choice but to head to Terrorsaur's room.

The mech's fuel spark pulsated wildly in his chassis as he stood there in front of Terrorsaur's door like a gazelle looking down on oncoming predator. The light overhead buzzed like flies buzzing around corpses in a field. Scorponok watched the shadow of his claw as he reached up to knock on the door – as he had tried to do for the past ten cycles – but he could never bring himself to close the distance: to pull the trigger. He held his claw suspended in the air before feeling it fall back down to his side.

Dread had his insides pinned: too scared to go forward and too scared to go back.

When he realized he was clicking his claws nervously again, he also noticed something else: the door had cracked open less than a few centimeters, and Scorponok could see a small speck of red shining from inside. Mere moments later, the door hissed open slightly more. Terrorsaur stood there, shrouded in shadows, and the light from above caught his face enough to cut darkness across pale completion. His red eyes glowed but they never met Scorponok's.

He wondered how long Terrorsaur had also been standing at the door, too afraid to move.

The vampire's face was neutral. "Come in."

The red flier backed up into the room slightly as to let Scorponok in… and the mechanic had no choice but to oblige.

The room was eerily dark, and the mechanic felt his spark rate climb as the light from the outside world was cut off behind him: Terrorsaur had closed the door in his wake. The flier suddenly groaned in an aggravated tone. Scorponok froze in place hearing the noise, immediately mistaking it to be a threatening one, but the fear evaporated when the mech spoke again.

"Frag, you can't see in this. Computer: room lights, on. forty percent brightness."

"Acknowledged."

The lights flickered on slightly, casting the flier's quarters into a twilight-esque gloom. Terrorsaur's room was clean, and to Scorponok's instant relief, there were not blood spatters on the black walls or bodies ridden about. It was bare with the exception of a few personal items (there was a small aviator's medal on the desk, the only thing worth really noting since Terrorsaur had been a show pilot back on Cybertron), but what caught Scorponok's attention the most was that the shaft cover on the vent over Terrorsaur's berth was missing. He had been right about the flier using the vents to escape without anyone noticing, apparently. In the low light, Scorponok also saw several deep gorges in the wall: claw marks?

There was a chair by the desk and, without a second thought, Scorponok took it and sat against the far wall beside the desk. He watched Terrorsaur in the low light, his spark feeling as though it were ready to explode in its own casing.

Terrorsaur rubbed his temples, groaned again, and flopped himself onto the berth with his back to Scorponok. "Inferno's not coming. He's still slagged about what went down last night, so it'll just be us and Waspinator," he said in a tired tone, turning to lie on his back before cranking his head to look at Scorponok. His optics held its normal crimson hue instead of the ungodly bright red Scorponok saw in the misty forest.

Scorponok felt his throat constrict. "…How long will that—?"

"Five cycles at most," Terrorsaur answered, his voice sounding hoarse a second later. He turned his head away and Scorponok swore Terrorsaur tried to curl into a ball for a moment. "He could be back any minute. Don't worry. I'm not going to eat you or anything."

Scorponok felt his claws sputter slightly and he forcefully willed them to stop. Being alone with Terrorsaur – taking into consideration the red flier had nearly killed him in the forest days earlier – was a terrifying thought to be left alone with. The crimson flier had killed two protoforms already in the past week, and looking back, the images of their corpses molded into the form of his own mutilated shell. He tried to keep his clicking quiet, but the thought of his dead body being the next to be found made it impossible not to panic.

Terrorsaur grumbled softly from the other side of the room. "Don't breathe so heavily. You keep wafting your scent across the room."

Scorponok felt the last of his nerve – the last sanely calm one – snap. Before he knew it, Scorponok had spoken up.

"What are you?" The mechanic's voice was shallow and shaky, but the tone seemed to go entirely unheeded. Terrorsaur stayed still on his berth, Scorponok was sure the mech had ignored him entirely until he finally responded.

Terrorsaur's own voice, surprisingly, sounded similar to Scorponok's. "I think you already know."

There were three loud bangs on the door.

Terrorsaur spoke up. "You know the keycode, Waspy."

The door opened, and Waspinator stuck his head into the room. The mech's all too familiar baby blue eyes, the one on the black wolf he'd seen the night prior and in the forest with the meadow of mutilated animals, passed over him and then went to Terrorsaur. He stepped through the threshold, buzzing his wings, and his hand brushed over the door control panel to seal all three of them inside. His optics went to Scorponok again, and they held one another's gaze long enough for Waspinator to eventually break the optic contact. "Well, this zzeems awkward…"

"How do you think I feel?" Terrorsaur asked in a groan. It sounded like he was in pain. and Waspinator was instantly next to his partner. Scorponok hadn't even realized the green and yellow wasp had moved until he saw Waspinator bend over the side of the berth and rest the back of his hand against Terrorsaur's face. The red Predacon's pale mouth tightened into a firm line and Waspinator, either ignoring the face his wingmate made or not noticing it, repositioned his hand again. After several tense clicks, he moved it to the pale mech's forehead.

Waspinator's eyes flashed with concern and the expression held. "Terror-bot's vitals are down."

Terrorsaur answered in an almost defensive tone. "I kept having nightmares last night. I didn't get much sleep."

Scorponok remembered his own nightmare the night before – being chased down by vampires and huge wolves – but the mechanic quickly abandoned the memories.

Waspinator didn't look convinced, but he let it slide and he sat down on the edge of the berth beside his friend. The green wasp turned and looked at Scorponok, eyeing him carefully. "Scorpion-bot okay?"

Scorponok hadn't even realized he had been spoken to until Waspinator cleared his throat maybe ten seconds later, repeating his question. The mechanic snapped to attention and opened his mouth to speak, although Waspinator spoke up again.

"Chest looks better." The wasp mentioned, gesturing to his chassis. "Wazzpinator want to apologize about that."

"Yeah…" Scorponok briefly looked down at himself. There was a long, pale scar on his chest that was two shades lighter than the color of his chasis, although they were barely visible unless you were up close. Scorponok himself could only just tell there was one even there. "I took a round in the CR this morning."

"Good," Waspinator said, crossing his ankles and leaning forward slightly. "So, how did Scorpion-bot find out?"

The question went right over Scorponok's head at first – but then it clicked. It was bound to come up after the entire encounter the night before. Scorponok clicked his claws nervously, trying to sort his thoughts.

"I asked Blackarachnia to do some research for me," Scorponok said slowly. "I wanted to know what was going on with the protoforms. I figured if I could find out what was killing them, maybe Megatron and the others would take me seriously."

Waspinator looked immediately concerned. His optics flashed, letting the baby blue turn to a bright robin's egg hue, and the smugness was gone immediately. "Does zzhe suspect anything?"

"No," Scorponok immediately countered back in a strangled, apologetic tone. "I just bribed her to because I wasn't up to doing it myself. I'm taking her monitor duty posts for a whole week as payment. She hates monitor duty."

Waspinator seemed more at ease. He leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his hands nonchalantly. "What did she find? Probably the same filezz..."

"Uh… vampires," he said, clicking his right claw again and pulling his left one against his lap out of reflex.

Terrorsaur groaned. "Told you we should've purged those documents and blamed it on the Maximals. But nooo, you had to cave under Inferno. He doesn't listen to you, Waspy. You're the one who should be in charge of this slag, not your beta."

The term beta caught Scorponok by surprise. He'd have to ask about that later...

Waspinator snorted. "Ant-bot knows he is partially to blame. Ant-bot gets it. Is no helping it now, Terror-bot."

Terrorsaur made a small noise and threw an arm across his face.

Waspinator sighed. "Is that it? Scorpion-bot is the only one who knowzz?"

Scorponok nodded slowly, feeling himself more at east. Waspinator's calming, natural aura was a godsend on his anxiety. "How could I tell anyone else? Who would ever believe me?"

Waspinator nodded. "Zzzt. Good point. Wazzpinator would not have believed you either, Scorpion-bot!"

"That's rude," Terrorsaur said, voice muffled under his arm.

Waspinator blew air out of his mouth in a semi-whistle, giving his wingmate a slight shove against his leg. It was an affectionate gesture.

Scorponok gulped and spoke up quietly. "So… was I right?"

The room went silent.

No one looked at him, Scorponok noted. Waspinator kept his head down, and Terrorsaur kept his arm slung across his optics. The red flier finally made a small noise between a sigh and a whine, just barely loud enough for Scorponok to register it as a weak whimper. He turned on his side, facing the wall away from the conversation.

Waspinator glanced behind him, watching Terrorsaur with concern. He never looked at Scorponok. "Yes. Scorpion-bot was right. Terror-bot is vampire."

Thoughts, all jumbled, lashed at Scorponok's processors like a whip. The fact that the vampire theory was true, verbally confirmed now, made his mind do back flips. The grey mechanic tried his best to keep his composure when he spoke again. "So it was Terrorsaur? He killed the protoforms and animals?"

Waspinator's face hardened slightly. Being defensive – especially when he was blown up and Megatron blamed him for something – was something Waspinator was commonly known for. "He couldn't help it. It wasn't his—"

"Yes it was," Terrorsaur snapped, his voice low. The flier didn't sit up or move from his position, but his tone certainly shifted weight. "It was damn well my fault. I starved myself for three days and then lost control. I should've been able to—"

"Terror-bot should not have been able to do anything," Waspinator retorted with a razz. His hand reached out to rest his servo comfortingly on Terrorsaur's leg, giving him a small shake: trying to drag the poor red mech to reality. The red flier was looking more and more distressed, shuddering at the contact, and Scorponok took the pause in conversation as the opportunity to get his bearings back.

Terrorsaur had his own demons to deal with, just like Scorponok. Except in the flier's case, those demons were far more literal.

"Scorpion-bot looks freaked out," Waspinator pointed out, breaking the impromptu silence once more.

"Do you blame me?" Scorponok wheezed. His voice cracked and he winced from his own tone.

"No. Wazzpinator not blame anyone for what happened. Scorpion-bot and Terror-bot just in wrong place at wrong time. Hazz been bad week... Wazzpinator will apologize now for what happened to Scorpion-bot. For Terror-bot and Ant-bot – even though Ant-bot not here. Ant-bot only meant to protect Wazzpinator when he... last night..."

The apology made the grey mechanic feel half a beat better, but that raised just another question: something that desperately needed to be addressed and no one had accounted for since the incident in the misty forest.

Scorponok looked at Waspinator critically and mumbled. "What about you?"

Waspinator perked up. "Mm? Did Scorpion-bot not hear? Wazzpinator also said Wazzpinator apologizes too—"

"No, no, I know that." Scorponok's claws rattled again, but he finally willed them shut by pressing them down hard on his knees. One of his legs bobbed nervously. It took him a few seconds to remember how to breathe, and there was a knot in his throat when he finally found his voice again. "I mean… what are you? You and Inferno, last night…"

Waspinator still didn't seem to understand right away. At first Scorponok thought he was just going to play stupid, even after bringing him aside to explain Terrorsaur's vampirism, but then the subtext of the mechanic's question seemed to click. The wasp's wings twitched – whether this was done as a nervousness tick or in a casual manner, Scorponok couldn't decide – and he razzed in casual realization. "Oh! Wazzpinator is werewolf."

There was no further explanation: as if Scorponok was just supposed to casually accept. The mechanic blinked. "What?"

Waspinator still didn't seem to get it. He cocked his head, not saying anything and just looking politely confused, until Terrorsaur said something.

"He doesn't know what a lycanthrope is, you goon," the red mech said, exasperated. "Just because he figured out I was a vampire, it doesn't mean he ever suspected you or Megatron's lapdog to be werewolves."

"Wazzpinator resents lapdog comment," the wasp sniffed, looked away, making an inarticulate gesture with his hand and glaring down at Terrorsaur. Then, "Inferno is too big to be good lapdog, too."

"Just start telling him or I will, and I won't be nice about it.

"Terror-bot is mean to Wazzpinator," the green mech whined, pouting. He cleared his throat and turned his his attention back to Scorponok, offering another razz. "Wazzpinator can turn into big, big dog. Like beast-mode, but... hard to explain. More secret. Lycanthropy like vampirism, but different."

"Different?" Scorponok was baffled. His tone of voice easily gave it away, and it teetered on the verge of exasperation. Dealing with a vampire was one thing, but Waspinator and Inferno's condition added a new level of complexity to the story. "How?"

Scorponok knew what wolves were: he often saw packs of them in the distance while on patrol. One time on monitor duty, while he was examining footage through his cyberbees, he examined a small doe grazing with her fawn in Tanna-16. He watched the organic animals mainly out of curiosity, but he nearly jumped twenty feet out of his own casing when a wolf lunged from the forest with at least a dozen others. They tackled the mother and tore her limb from limb while the fawn was swamped over, eaten alive. In Earth culture, humans described their own world's wolves as ancient ancestors of their domesticated dogs. They were powerful creatures that were built for speed and stealth while wielding powerful jaws, but they only grew to be a certain size: and they certainly weren't Beast Warriors in disguise.

Waspinator continued, though it sounded more like he was grumbling more so to himself than directly addressing Scorponok. "...if bit by werewolf, you get ability to turn into one. Like vampirezz. Since Terror-bot was bit vampire, Terror-bot become vampire. Wazzpinator bit by werewolf, so Wazzpinator become werewolf."

Scorponok felt his claws twitch once. Suddenly, he was brought back to months earlier: Waspinator staggering into the Darkside in tears, clutching his arm where some organic animal – a wolf – had torn into him. Terrorsaur was immediately at his side, chastising Megatron for not letting him go with the young flier in the first place, before ushering his still sobbing wingmate into a CR tank. It never clicked for Scoroponok until then what had really happened: Waspinator was attacked by something that had this lycanthropy, and it transferred to the young Beast Warrior by the same way Terrorsaur's vampirism was contracted. "So what does that mean? You can just – shapeshift?"

"Werewolves are supposed to be murderous psychopaths, according to the mythos," Terrorsaur groaned. "Waspinator didn't get that trait because he's too much of a good-natured idiot, so now we're just left with the fleas and wet-dog smell."

"Wazzpinator does not have fleas." The mech paused – then looked down at his arm, checking. When he saw nothing there, he razzed in triumph. "Wazzpinator did get faster and stronger, though! Wazzpinator can smell things from far away, sense weather changes, fight better... Wazzpinator is badass now."

"You're still an idiot," Terrorsaur said, clipped.

"Wazzpinator is badass idiot." The wasp crossed his arms.

It took Scorponok another minute to realize that he felt the calmest he had all week. Maybe it was the banter back and forth between the two fliers. Maybe it was Waspinator natural disposition balancing out the tension in the room. Either way, Scorponok realized he felt okay – so long as he didn't try to remember the night before too much, or what happened in the mist.

"So..." Scorponok gulped. "No cannibalism or blood-sucking or the like? There's nothing more to it than just a... mutation?"

Waspinator paused, looking back at the mechanic thoughtfully. "Well... werewolves alzzo have keen senses. While vampirezz see Energon or blood inside their prey, werewolves se... ecosystem balance?" Waspinator lifted his hands and made a strange wriggling motion with all his fingers. It looked less ominous and far more ridiculous. Scorponok would've laughed at how gauche it looked under normal circumstances. "Wazzpinator can't explain but, if deer population is too high, Wazzpinator only be tempted to hunt deer population and nothing elzze? If something is too low in population, Wazzpinator not want to eat that species at all. If drought or lots of rain about to happen, Wazzpinator knows."

"Sounds like vampires and werewolves would be strict enemies then," Scorponok said slowly, face grimacing at the memory of the animals slaughtered in the felid. "Vampires decimate ecosystems by killing as much as possible to feed themselves, werewolves keep everything else in check."

Terrorsaur shifted slightly on the recharge berth, still not turning to look at him or Waspinator: he was uncomfortably silent again. The wasp Predacon inclined his head to glance at Terrorsaur worriedly, then resumed. "Under normal circumstances, yezz. Vampires and werewolvezz are natural enemies. Human mythozz on Earth say so. Circumstance is not..."

"It's not normal," Scorponok finished. "You and Terrorsaur were friends on Cybertron before Megatron even wanted to steal the Golden Disk."

"Wazzpinator and Ant-bot don't know why but we…" Waspinator nodded and made a face for emphasis, contorting it slightly. It was a look of mock-disgust, maybe even real disdain. "We'zz can't stand vampires. They mess up environment and just… smell bad."

"You don't exactly smell peachy yourself," Terrorsaur said, finally chiming in again. "Wet dog. All day, every day."

Scorponok remembered approaching Terrorsaur's room that day, wanting to confront Waspinator about the red flier possibly being bit by the original rogue vampire that infected him. The wasp's face was clenched like he had smelled something bad. "You're helping Terrorsaur, though."

Terrorsaur tightened further into himself. Waspinator failed to notice. His voice was firm and unwavering, meaning that he wasn't keen on changing his view on his situation. "Terror-bot is different. Is Wazzpinator's fault he was turned into vampire. Terror-bot is Wazzpinator's friend."

"I should've heard it coming up behind me," Terrorsaur hissed meekly in response.

"Wazzpinator should have heard werewolf." The wasp's voice was disgusted, aimed at himself. "Vampires sneaky. Feral werewolves loud and stupid. Wazzpinator did not have excuse not to hear it."

Scorponok nodded. He remembered seeing Waspinator stumble into the Darkside that night, but the unspoken question lingered. "How did it happen?"

The young mech understood immediately. He glanced down at his arm: the place he had been bit by their mystery "wolf" several months back. "Wazzpinator touched down just outside forest in eastern grid when Wazzpinator was attacked by giant wolf. Wazzpinator tried to defend himself, but... Wazzpinator was bit. Wazzpinator had very bad night. Then everyone made fun of Wazzpinator for being mauled by organic: made Wazzpinator look like even bigger idiot than everyone already thinks he is."

The irony of the statement was enough to make the mechanic shudder. Considering that Scorponok only recently found himself in the position of "resident Predacon moron" that Waspinator faced on a much more-permanent basis, this could have happened to anyone. Waspinator asked him if he was alright and Scorponok told him he was fine. Waspinator continued.

"Wazzpinator got better but still felt… off." The way the younger mech's jaw hardened and his optics focused on nothing in particular was a dead giveaway: it wasn't a pleasant memory. He continued. "Wazzpinator was fine for a week, but Wazzpinator got irritated more easily. Was moody. Wazzpinator never moody… Spider-bot called Wazzpinator idiot after Spider-lady tripped Wazzpinator one day, and Wazzpinator got mad. Went outside to cool off, but Wazzpinator just couldn't. Then bang – Wazzpinator on all fours and destroying everything! Then Wazzpinator ran as faaar as he could in a straight line – ran for a looong time... When Wazzpinator calm down, Wazzpinator back to normal!"

Scorponok blinked. "But you figured out what you were."

"Yezz. After panicking and running in circles when Wazzpinator saw own tail. Pfft." The wasp rolled his optics. "Wazzpinator calmed down and went back to base after being normal again. Had headache, but Wazzpinator felt better. So Wazzpinator dug into computer files and did research."

Again with the irony. Scorponok felt his fuel tank twist in his stomach. Their situations were a little too similar to be comfortable for him.

"Wazzpinator looked up databanks and found file on werewolves. Human author named Oblivion-bot was good writer. Did lots of novelzz and wrote book based on werewolf guide. Files came in handy."

"I heard," Scorponok mused quietly, "something from a book of his was quoted in Optimus Prime's biography on the Slipstream incident." Scorponok didn't dare mention that was the book which also taught him how to kill vampires. Scorponok wondered whatever happened to his stakes.

Waspinator nodded absently. "Wazzpinator found out everything he needed to! Very smart research, Wazzpinator did! Werewolf shifting triggered by strong emotions and moon phases. Werewolves even have infectious bite with looots of germs that carry lycanthropy-viruzz, too! If organic bitten, they get it. Werewolves most common, but other versions talk about werebears, werecrocs—"

"I'm going to stop you at werecrocs," Terrorsaur muttered, horrified. He glanced up, glowering. "I don't want to think about Megatron or Dinobot getting this thing of yours. Inferno is bad enough as it is.

It suddenly dawned on Scorponok. "How is Inferno a werewolf?"

A pained expression crossed Waspinator's face.

Scorponok realized right away. "You bit him."

"Wazzpinator did. Was also very bad day for poor Wazzpinator..." The wasp looked down and rested his arms on his upper thighs. His voice was low with a mix of humiliation and embarrassment when he spoke. "Wazzpinator was werewolf for three months and Inferno was on patrol with Wazzpinator because Terror-bot got in trouble for something."

Terrorsaur chimed in with a muffled voice. "Fell asleep on monitor duty. Guilty as charged."

Waspinator kept going. "Ant-bot was scolding Wazzpinator for something and Wazzpinator just… Wazzpinator kept getting madder and madder." The wasp whined at the memory, clenching his fist. "Wazzpinator tried to keep it under control but… Wazzpinator lost it. Wazzpinator turned and just – attacked."

Just the thought of the massive black wolf Scorponok had seen in the mist shrouded attacking someone –another Transformer like himself – made Scorponok shudder again. Waspinator asked him if he was alright and Scorponok said he wasn't sure. The wasp watched him for some time before resuming.

"Wazzpinator bit him," he said slowly, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "Wazzpinator did not mean it. Wazzpinaor snapped out of it right away and turned back – explained everything. Ant-bot and Wazzpinator went back to base, Ant-bot took a round in the CR chamber, and then Ant-bot went to quarters to look up werewolf file. Went out with Ant-bot three days later, and Ant-bot turned into werewolf without losing temper. Ant-bot practiced in his quarters. Ant-bot had more control of it then Wazzpinator ever did."

"And the fire-bug became the alpha in the pack Waspinator unwittingly made," Terrorsaur said from where he was laying. "Despite the fact Waspinator turned him. Inferno should be the beta and Waspinator the alpha, but Waspy let Inferno walk all over him."

Waspinator looked sideways away from Terrorsaur's general direction, visibly ashamed. "Ant-bot is way better wolf then Wazzpinator. Only right he leads pack."

"You and Inferno have a pack?" Scorponok clicked his claws and his voice turned into a tight whisper. "There's not more of you, is there?"

Waspinator snapped his head up. His optics were bright and he brought his hands up. "No! Wazzpinator would never want another bot to go through what Wazzpinator had to! Turning hurtzz, Scorpion-bot! Controlling wolf-half hard!"

There was a long silence between all three of them. Terrorsaur didn't add any snippy comments (at least not right away), Waspinator said nothing else, and Scorponok wasn't sure what to say. There was a sudden understand that Scorponok had, though: that like Terrorsaur, Waspinator had his own problems. The same went for Inferno, and now here he was – a mechanic that just wanted to stupidly prove himself – caught in the middle like that deer he had seen on monitor duty: the one torn apart by the wolves. With his luck, he was also going to end up like the gazelle he found in the tree.

"Neither would I," Terrorsaur suddenly said. His voice was clear for the first time as he sat up, removing his arm from hanging over his face. It took Scorponok a minute to realize what he was talking about – and Scorponok pitied him. He pitied both fliers.

Waspinator cleared his voice. He sounded like his old self again. "Scorpion-bot get everything now? No more questionzz or sneaking around? Wazzpinator just... Wazzpinator just glad Scorpion-bot not get hurt. Wazzpinator should have said something before – lazzt night happened..."

"I think so," Scorponok said. As the wasp's words sunk it, it occurred to the mechanic that Waspinator had done nothing but try to protect him this whole time. He protected him when he was originally told to stay behind with a newly-turned Terrorsaur in the same base: had he stayed, Terrorsaur absolutely would have eaten him. Waspinator protected him again in the misty forest when he fought off Terrorsaur from killing him, and helped protect him a third time from Inferno the night before. They weren't friends – not like the way Terrorsaur and Waspinator were, and maintaining friendships in general was not a strong-suit of the Predacons – but it was a gesture that Scorponok nevertheless appreciated deeply. "Thank you, Waspinator."

The green mech revved his ending, standing up suddenly and stretching his legs. At first he seemed back to his old self, but his eyes were suddenly hard like baby blue diamonds. The expression grim. "As long as Scorpion-bot can keep secret, Scorpion-bot will be okay. Ant-bot mad as Pitt about Terrorsaur already. Ant-bot mad at you now for butting in... Ant-bot really did want to kill Scorpion-bot last night."

The hard, cold reality that he could have died the night before struck again, and it made Scorponok shudder once more. Waspinator asked him if he was alright and Scorponok honestly answered back with a no. The wasp looked at him sympathetically before getting up, striding across the room, and kneeling down in front of the mechanic while putting a hand on the mech's shoulder.

Waspinator's eyes were softer now. "Wazzpinator so sorry for what Scorpion-bot had to go through. Wazzpinator wanted to keep Terror-bot safe, but Wazzpinator never thought it would be this hard to do. Wazzpinaor know he already apologize to Scorpion-bot but... forgive Wazzpinator? Pleazze?"

"I should apologize," Scorponok mumbled. "I was the one who got myself tangled into this mess."

"Son of a glitch – this is bull," Terrorsaur abruptly snapped from across the room. Waspinator jumped up in surprise and Scorponok's claws unintentionally clattered as the flier stood up from his berth and glared in their direction. Scorponok wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a flash of the flier's optics stinging with moisture. His shoulders trembled when he spoke. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. I nearly killed Scorponok in the woods when I murdered all those organics! Sure, we're not friends, but I never wanted to hurt anyone other than the Maximals! We all came from the same shitty situation on Cybertron and this stupid ragtag team is all we got until we figure out how to get off this dirtball. The only reason he lived was because you ignored Inferno getting hit by rotted tree I pushed on top of him!"

Waspinator, again, was defensive. "Inferno would have gone after Terror-bot again if Wazzpinator let him go! Would have killed Terror-bot!"

Terrorsaur's jaw tensed tightly. The mech's breath suddenly hitched and, to Scorponok's disbelief, Terrorsaur looked about ready to cry just as he had the night before. The flier's shoulders wracked and his chest heaved. "Maybe it would be better if he killed me! I'm a freak! I could barely even work in the base this morning without going after Blackarachnia when she passed by me during monitor duty! I can't live like this! I want out!"

Waspinator moved before Scorponok fully registered he had, but the flier was up and hugging Terrorsaur moments later. It made Scorponok wonder what they had gone through together on Cybertron – they had a relationship closer than any of the Predacons or the Maximals, and it allowed both of them to survive the worst storms together. They survived the Golden Disk heist, the crash landing on Earth, the small beginnings of the Beast Wars... and now, just as they had before, they were trying to survive this now. Terrorsaur's face contorted hard before he buried his face in Waspinator's shoulder. Waspinator was buzzing in a low tone and started to say something, but Terrorsaur interrupted.

"I need to go out now."

Waspinator pulled his hand back and squeezed Terrorsaur's upper shoulder slightly. The mech at the receiving end for the gesture shuddered as Waspinator spoke. "Go as far away from where Ant-bot is patrolling and Maximal base as possible."

"Don't have to tell me twice – I've had my fill of seeing dead mech bodies for the week..."

Waspinator suddenly pulled back, and Terrorsaur looked past him towards Scorponok. Again, in an instant, their optics met and the grey mechanic felt like he was drowning in a sea of crimson. The red was only a few shades brighter than Terrorsaur's natural optic color, and that was when the mechanic realized his vision was tunneling. He was so focused on those optics that he almost didn't realize it when Terrorsaur looked away.

"I'm so sorry." Terrorsaur's voice was above barely above a whisper.

The flier stepped back and leapt, his hands catching on the entrance to the ventilation shaft. His feet hooked upward as he swung himself up into the shaft and out of sight. There was a light clamor from in the vent before the sounds ceased and Terrorsaur was gone from the Darkside once more.

Across the room, Waspinator turned his head up to look at Scorponok with a nervous expression. Something was bothering him. "Scorpion-bot okay?"

"Fine," the mech breathed. He felt slightly off and shook his head, trying to clear his clouded processor. He didn't have a headache, but his mind seemed to swim in circles mindlessly. It was slightly unnerving and disorienting, but he was fine all the same.

Waspinator stood and walked back over. He stopped and watched Scorponok for a moment before speaking up again. The tone was low and worried sounding but even Scorponok bluntly recognized the warning undertone in it. "Don't look directly into Terror-bot's optics."

Scorponok looked up and the sudden movement made his mind swim dizzily again. He clicked his claws twice. "Why?"

"Just don't. Trust Wazzpinator and don't forget it," the wasp intoned. He knelt down beside the mechanic and was quiet. "Terror-bot used ventilation shafts to get out of base so no one would realize he was gone. Scorpion-bot read Slipstream file?"

"Yeah."

"Using ventilation shafts was how Slipstream got around Ark," Waspinator said. "After Terror-bot turned into vampire, he did research like Wazzpinator. Probably more than Waspinator. Terror-bot even looked for potential cures, but couldn't find anything other than killing himself. Made Terror-bot heartbroken." The wasp looked at Scorponok hard. "Last night, Terror-bot thought Scorpion-bot was going to kill him."

Scorponok snapped to attention at that. He looked directly into Waspinator's face with heightened curiosity. "Really?"

"He saw cross," the wasp said. "Supposed to fend off vampirezz, but Terror-bot made one himself and was fine with it. Doesn't work. Cross bit only superstition. Same as stake and garlic. Wazzpinator not too sure about holy water one, but Wazzpinator thinks that not work either."

Another reality, this one regarding that Scorponok had gone out the night before with weapons that would have no effect on vampires, made him stutter his claws wildly. Waspinator didn't bother asking if he was alright: he already knew the answer. Scorponok was glad he didn't pry.

"Terror-bot feels like a monster, but Terror-bot is not. Terror-bot still good friend to Wazzpinator. Wazzpinator knows Terror-bot not beyond help. Does Scorpion-bot see that? Scorpion-bot understands?"

Scorponok found he did. "Yes."

"Anyways, Terror-bot only chased you at first because he knew Ant-bot would try to kill you. Terror-bot was terrified that someone else would get killed at his expense, so it scared him seeing Scorpion-bot out there. Terror-bot was so worried..."

Without a second thought, Scorponok realized that it was Terrorsaur that turned his light on in the middle of the night. While they walked back down to the control room together – an hour had passed, meaning Scorponok had to take up his monitor duty time again, and Waspinator had his own respective shift to start – Scorponok asked the werewolf about the original vampire that bit Terrorsaur.

"Terror-bot may be unsafe to be around, Wazzpinator will say that much," he said casually before darkening his tone, "but thing that turned Terror-bot into vampire was not the only one."

v

His throat burned.

He'd dealt with the issue of thirst before. Living on the streets, after being kicked out a roaming Cybertronian circus as a stunt flier, energon was hard to come by. Maximals passing on the street late at night often taunted him and other homeless Predacons about it, but the thirst he felt now was more powerful than anything he had ever imagined. He wouldn't have killed for energon necessarily then, but he absolutely would have now: not counting the animals, he had already killed twice. Having Scorponok in his quarters just made it worse, as much as their meeting needed to be addressed. The mech's scent was overpowering even with Waspinator's stench covering it, and feeding as much as he could the previous night did nothing to help with it. As much as he managed to keep himself in check today, he was still craving.

He needed blood. That would keep him off energon at least for a while – at least until he could figure out what his own ultimatum was going to be. At this rate, killing himself seemed more and more favorable: he just hoped he didn't completely break Waspinator's spark in the process.

Terrorsaur leapt into another towering pine, scrambled up the side thirty feet, and looked down to mark his progress. A deer's scent was wafting downwind further north, into the deep, nearly ten-kilometer forest of Yulma-31. The forest itself was far enough away from both Maximal and Predacon territories, lost in its own wilderness. An instinct that he couldn't accurately describe, hardwired into his brain when the virus took over, forced him to hunt on foot as he tracked the deer. His heightened abilities as a vampire made it very much obsolete to fly anyways – he was faster on the ground than he ever was in the air. As much as it disturbed the ex-Seeker, a mech who once prided himself on flight, it couldn't be helped now.

A flier who stopped preferring to fly? Yeah – killing himself looked great right about now. He was an embarrassment to Seekers everywhere.

As the direction of the wind changed, Terrorsaur was nearly able to pin the deer's location exactly: by process of elimination, he could follow the scent with frightening accuracy, even as it moved through the woods. He followed it. The red mech moved quickly, faster than he could admittedly keep track as a newborn vampire, and the trail got warmer, warmer... He jumped from the top branch of a massive pine and landed on the ground gracefully, sprinting off and dodging around smaller conifers as he did. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, but his onboard odometer told him he was moving far – far – too fast. He had cleared more than a hundred yards in under a minute when he finally found his prey: a small brown doe that was entirely too small but would have to do. His throat burned hot and hotter. He edged closer, hunched low, ready to pounce.

The small deer was clueless, never once realizing that the universe's most dangerous predator was watching her: Terrorsaur wondered if the vampire that attacked him saw him the same way.

"Listen to me, Terror-bot," Waspinator's voice resonated from the back corner of Terrorsaur's brain, where he was still grounded in the now: the rest of him was far too engaged in the hunt. "Deer population is down a little. Ant-bot said he could feel it. Wazzpinator not as good wolf as Ant-bot, but Wazzpinator can feel it too. Anyways, deer population is down and the does are starting to have babiezz. Don't kill does, go for the deer with antlerzz. More bucks can be born when mommy-deer have babiezz, so don't go after the does. Try not to go after them."

Terrorsaur was vaguely aware that his prey was a doe. The deer was also visibly pregnant. Perhaps with twins, but the conscious thought was lost on the vampire. He had hoped not to run into a doe, yes, but it couldn't be helped that he had. Changing course and actively making the effort to find new prey was Terrorsaur didn't have the freewill to do. He hoped Waspinator would forgive him – he probably would. Then again, maybe a part of Terrorsaur was hoping he wouldn't. Maybe he could kill himself later with less of a guilty conscious if the wasp didn't.

He lunged.

It was no different from flying as a jet on Cybertron, except he was still in robot-mode and was purposely trying to collide with something: crashing planes wasn't exactly something you tried to do. Crashing into prey to slaughter it, however, was a completely separate scenario. The doe had no time to react as the red mech slammed into her hard and crushed her side at over sixty miles an hour. The unborn twin fawns were immediately expelled from the mother's broken body as her gut ripped over from the impact. They landed, dear, in a bloodied mess as Terrorsaur rolled and came up on his knees with his prey in his arms. The doe's back was broken in three places and her neck was a smashed mess of splintered vertebrae and tangled spinal cord. She wheezed blood from her nose and mouth – her jaw hung open, probably being broken as well – and the smell drove Terrorsaur over the edge. He arched his back, screeched, and then turned back downward to bury his face in the front of the doe's throat. His fangs pierced her jugular instantly, sending a hot whooshing spray of blood all over his chest and chin, and the doe screeched like she'd been stabbed with a hot smoldering iron.

He inhaled. The taste of copper flooded his throat, and Terrorsaur accidentally crushed the doe's skull in relief.

He had been propping her head up with his right hand, his other grasping one of her broken legs tightly, and the loss of control forced him to close his fist. The bone made a horrible crushing sound in his hand, but the urge to vomit was overridden. Energy whipped through his systems and he moaned in pleasure. It was like injecting hard-synthetic energon in the back alleys of the streets he wandered on Cybertron, but so much better: at least physically. As the high ripped through his circuits and rapid-charged his systems, his mental state was in turmoil. He was disgusting, he thought. This was disgusting.

The corpse was drained. Terrorsaur tossed it aside, and the poor doe landed with a pathetic thud on the ground. He debated going to the fawns, but they had already been dead too long: cold blood was useless to him, and their bodies were so small that they were likely already starting to congeal. Reality returned once more as his thirst was quenched, and he stared gradually rising horror at what he'd done – again. Guilt, cold and heavy, weighed down on him for how low he had stooped. The once mother-to-be was smashed beyond recognition, and of course Waspinator would know he had killed an animal he was told not to: the young mech was going to be devastated. Terrorsaur's hands were shaking when he brought them to his face, holding himself in the middle of the woods covered in blood.

Something shuffled in the brush behind him.

In Terrorsaur's world as a vampire, there were only two things that could ever sneak up behind him. Werewolves was one of them: and the only werewolf that did that well was Inferno, but Inferno was on the other side of the valley probably headed back for the Darkside to dote on his Queen. Werewolf or not, the fire-ant was still unwaveringly loyal to Megatron: if the tyrant wanted the pyromaniac to report back at the end of his shift, he absolutely would, regardless as to whether or not he smelled Terrorsaur out and about again. And if Inferno had tracked him out this far, he wouldn't have waited to sneak around. No, he absolutely would have lunged out of the trees and snapped Terrorsaur's neck on the spot, doing what Waspinator refused and finally putting the vampire out of his misery. Inferno had already tried to kill him once in the misty forest the day he slaughtered all the animals in the meadow. Waspinator could only protect him from the red wolf for so long.

Then there was the second, far less favorable option: another vampire.

Slag.

Nothing came. The rustling had ceased, but Terrorsaur knew that something was still there. He suddenly wished he hadn't been as messy with his meal as he had: he couldn't smell anything over the odor of copper clinging to his olfactory sensors. Terrorsaur braced his legs, ready to bolt at a moment's notice, and shot nervous glances all around him. Desperately, he hoped it was one of the werewolves: maybe Inferno had strayed from the Darkside to pursue him after all, or maybe Waspinator followed him to make sure the pyromaniac didn't try anything in his presumed absence. Either way, he'd rather deal with the dogs than another one of those parasites. "Inferno? Waspinator?"

There was nothing.

He tried again. It was absurd to try calling out in the first place, but it was certainly better than letting his anxiety cripple him silent. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again. "Scorponok?"

Once more, the forest around him was completely serene. Terrorsaur relaxed slightly. He had probably been so into feeding that he had simply imagined the sound. That, or a small bird had taken off and his senses just weren't recovered enough to instantly hone in on it. Feeling slightly better, he turned to look in the direction of the doe and her fawns. After what happened in the meadow, he knew he had to do a better job hiding the bodies—

The doe was there where he left it – the dead mother's corpse looked sickly and almost fake in the silver light from the overcast sun – but the fawns were gone.

Terrorsaur stared at where they had last been. He blinked as a slow crescendo of disbelief and horror rose up in him, and Primus, the sensation alone was even worse than the thirst. They were gone, nowhere in sight and seemingly having dissipated into thin air. Terrorsaur's mind reeled desperately for an answer. It dawned on him that, perhaps in his feeding delirium, he had devoured them and just tossed the corpses aside into the underbrush. This made less sense considering he had seen them just moments before, though. Something was seriously wrong: he wasn't alone.

There was a low, menacing growl behind him. Terrorsaur was almost entirely too afraid to turn around.

A large white wolf stood on the incline opposite of him, one of the baby fawns hanging from its neck in the monster's jaws. The wolf's muzzle pulled back in a dangerous snarl as it suddenly it snapped its mouth closed. The force of the bite was so powerful that it severed the baby's head from its body, and both halves fell to the ground and rolled down the hill before coming to a stop against a bush Terrorsaur was too afraid to even think – or want to know – what happened to its missing twin. The wolf's snarling grew louder and the guard hairs on its snow white coat glistened like a second sun.

There was a breeze. As adrenaline started to surge through his beast-mode half, Terrorsaur came to a horrifying realization when his sense of smell returned. While the wolf was much larger than the standard wildlife, it still wasn't a werewolf, either. It lacked the scent, yes, but that was hardly the defining moment for Terrorsaur: the wolf's eyes glowed a bright red. Staring into them, he found himself able to look away or move. In a sick twist of fate, he had become a doe and the wolf had become the predatory vampire in it for the hunt.

Vampire.

The wolf suddenly lunged. The eye contact between them broke, and Terrorsaur barely regained his wits in time to realize the vampire was bearing down on him and honing in fast. Terrorsaur tried to jump up to escape, fumbling to activate his antigravs and use flight to evade his newfound pursuer, but he was a fraction of a second too slow: the wolf leapt up, digging its subtle paws into his flanks, and forced him back down with the strength of three werewolves combined. The claws of the white beast dug into his armor painfully and its white fur was stained red with the blood transfer from Terrorsaur's own hide. The Predacon vampire landed on the ground hard, letting out a shriek and desperately trying to wrestle off the monster on top of him. The wolf snapped at his face and braced its paws on Terrorsaur's shoulders, pinning him, before reaching down with its dazzlingly toothed maw and biting Terrorsaur in the shoulder with enough force to crush metal. There was the sting of a vampire's distinct bite, and even though Terrorsaur was already turned himself, he screamed: it hurt, and unlike last time, no one was going to save him.

The vampire-wolf suddenly jerked its head to the side and flung Terrorsaur against the mossy ground. The flier tried to struggle to his feet, but a firm paw pressed to his back painfully, pinning him down once more. Primus, he was being toyed with: at least the first vampire had the common decency to at least try to murder him flat out. The red mech was forced to lie on his back when the dog's front leg pushed him over, and a large paw came down on his throat to keep him immobile. Terrorsaur looked up with pain glazed optics, wondering half-heartedly if this was how the doe felt. He was forced to look up into the face of his now would-be-killer, but the world stopped short.

The white wolf only continued to glare, and Terrorsaur drowned in the brilliant crimson of Slipstream's eyes.

vi

Scorponok had only been on monitor duty for half an hour when Inferno came back.

The secret-werewolf stalked into the command center with an air of predatory presence that only Scorponok could appreciate: everyone else was none the wiser to the ant's secret-lycanthropy. He saluted Megatron in the fashion typical of him, as if nothing was inherently different, and then he turned his head just enough to catch sight of Scorponok watching him. His optics were dead set hard looking at the mechanic: Scorponok could practically feel the hate radiating from them. The mechanic had to force himself to look away, but if looks could kill, he knew he was repeatedly being stabbed in the back as the glare dragged on. Waspinator was on another monitor working Blackarachnia's break time when the fire ant flew over to him. Scorponok tried to strain his hearing to pick up on the hushed conversation, but he was too far away to hear. He spared glances in their direction every so often until they went their separate ways. Inferno took up another monitor away from Waspinator, but they both looked distinctly upset with one another. Waspinator not so much, Inferno overly so. Waspinator must have told him he let Terrorsaur out again.

That was around the time Scorponok picked up two incoming signals on the monitor.

The radar showed two silverish blips heading towards the base in a far too casual of a manner. Scorponok found himself immediately bothered for several reasons: for one thing, the only person who he knew was outside the base was Terrorsaur (and no one else but him was supposed to know about that, anyways – as far as Megatron knew, Terrorsaur was still in his room). Maximals wouldn't dare try entering the Darkside perimeters without calling via radio first, either.

On a whole new subject matter, if Terrorsaur was one of the blips, who the frag was with him?

"Computer, bring up outside monitor feed. Camera 23-A only."

"Acknowledged."

When the standard radar gave way for exterior video input, Scorponok felt his spark nearly extinguish in his chest. His insides knotted in panic.

Terrorsaur was flying low in beast-mode towards the main entrance of the Darkside. Following a short body-length away was a medium sized white wolf: too large to be wildlife, too small to be one of the werewolves. With a start, Scorponok realized it had to be another Beast Warrior. The thought that Terrorsaur possibly discovered a stasis pod undetected by their scanners was quickly abandoned: if it had been a protoform Terrorsaur discovered, it – they – would've been dead by now.

Scorponok looked in Waspinator's direction. "Hey, uh, Waspinator?"

The wasp, despite being halfway across the room and completely out of normal earshot, turned to look at him. Scorponok presumed it was the werewolf's supersensitive hearing at work The wasp was at his side moments later, flying over and landing lightly with a buzz. Out of the corner of his vision, Scorponok could see Inferno looking over, too. Both mechs had good reason to worry: they knew that Scorponok was in on the reality of their "monster" situation, so if he were actively trying to point something new to them, it was absolutely in their best interest to pay attention. "What did Scorpion-bot see?"

"Take a look at this." Scorponok moved out of the way slightly so the wasp could more easily look at the monitor. As the green flier moved in, Scorponok found himself looking past the wasp's shoulder to where Inferno was. The red werewolf was tense, glaring literal holes into his packmate's back, but the intensity in that stare was overpowered by the rigidness in his stance: he was worried.

He shifted his gaze and met optics with Scorponok again. Scorponok had to scramble to pretend he had been looking at something else, but he wasn't going to fool anyone. He could feel the heat of Inferno's glower on him again: if looks could kill, was it possible to be murdered twice in one day? He looked back to Waspinator.

The wasp was shaking.

"What is it?" Scorponok couldn't help but click his claws apprehensively. "What's wrong? Do you know that mech with him?"

Waspinator didn't seem to be listening. His voice was a strangled whisper. "Oooh no…"

Scorponok's claws immediately began chattering in terror – for what, he wasn't sure yet, but if Waspinator was afraid? Scorponok wondered if it was too late to turn on the base's long range defenses, but then he remembered Terrorsaur: if they opened fire, the red flier would be destroyed as well.

Before he could ask anything further from Waspinator, the green mech immediately turned tail and flew over to Inferno. He landed messily on the ant's hover pad, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him to hurriedly whisper. Even across the room, Scorponok could hear the murmur of panic in his tone: the others noticed too, apparently. Tarantulus glanced over his shoulder towards the insects, Blackarachnia strode to a halt as she reentered the command center from her break, and Megatron sat up in his seat from looking at a long range scanner to watch his loyal pyromaniac with curiosity. Inferno, meanwhile, arched his claws on his keypad as Waspinator kept whispering to him. His thorax and antenna stood straight up on end and he started to snarl. He whispered something back and Waspinator seemed to hesitate.

Suddenly, Inferno whipped about and grabbed Waspinator's upper arm hard, causing the metal to audibly cave. Waspinator squealed in a mix of pain and panic as the ant shouted at him. "We cannot hold off TWO OF THEM!"

Two of them.

Two of them.

"INFERNO!" Megatron's roar was deafening. Scorponok flinched hard and nearly careened his hover pad into his own console. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING ON ABOUT!?"

Inferno turned away from Waspinator, shoving the wasp back and speaking up hurriedly. "Royalty! Terrorsaur and another are coming towards the base! We should open fire immediately to ensure the safety of the colony!"

"NO!" Waspinator's voice broke mid-shriek as he scrambled to get in front of Inferno, to draw the attentions of their leader away from the pyromaniac. "Let Wazzpinator and Ant-bot go out and see what they want! Wazzpinator—"

"The treacherous flier has led a stranger to us!" Inferno barked, voice shaking. The larger werewolf was desperate. "In this time of heightened security around the nest, we need to destroy them immediately! The colony and its inhabitants could be in mortal danger!"

"Terror-bot not do that! Terror-bot not lead danger into base! Wazzpinator knows we should meet them outside—get story from Terror-bot!"

Megatron maneuvered his throne to face his favorite bodyguard and now admittedly panicked looking green flier. "Terrorsaur? He should be in his quarters, yesss… who is with him?"

"An ENEMY! We must destroy them!"

"I will be the judge of that," Megatron said, tone threatening: he didn't like being shouted at, especially by one of his most loyal underlings. He asked which camera showed the mechs approaching the base and Inferno told him. As the tyrant brought the images up on his personal console, his face hardened and his voice followed suit. "A new mammalian Beast Warrior? A Maximal, no doubt..."

"It's not a Maximal we've seen before, my Queen! This stranger is undoubtedly a threat to the colony, more so with our own leading them straight to us." Inferno sneered aggressively. "If you do not allow us to destroy them now, they will surely come inside and attack us from the inside!"

Except "attack" was the least accurate way to describe what would happen, Scorponok thought. Inferno had referred to the strange-mech and Terrorsaur as being "two of them." They were lumped together in the same group, with all the same classifications that went with it. No, if they were allowed inside with the concerns Waspinator and Inferno both shared, there was going to be an absolute massacre: because the newest arrival to the Beast Wars was a vampire too.

Two of them.

Scorponok wondered if he left now, he could at least barricade himself in his room and send off a warning to the Maximals. He doubted he was that fast: and even if he did warn the Maximals, realistically, they wouldn't stand a chance either.

Megatron sneered, glaring at the fire-ant. "For the millionth time, stop calling me that! I highly doubt Terrorsaur of all mechs would try to stage a coup during this trying time. If this is an attack, they've done a poor job doing it in full view of our exterior cameras. Terrorsaur is also more than aware of the firepower the ship possesses..."

Inferno was getting frantic. "But royalty—!"

"We will allow them in," the tyrannosaurs declared loudly, switching his own monitor back to the radar view, watching intently as the blips drew closer – then entered the base. There was a loud clattering in the room and Scorponok thought it might have been something in the vents before Blackarachnia turned and told him to shut his claws up. He tried his best, but he nearly lost his nerve a second time when he saw Waspinator and Inferno look at each other.

It would be a massacre, and it was too late to run. Maybe Inferno killing him the night before wouldn't have been so bad.

But there was no massacre. After several tense moments, there was the echo of bodies moving beyond the command center. The light footfalls were slow, casual, and barely faster than normal walking pace: hardly something to be expected from apex predators moving in for the kill. Terrorsaur entered the command center first, visibly tense and with noticeable scarring on his shoulder and chasis, as the second mech followed close behind still in beast-mode. The wolf's fur was snow white with its legs stained grey from the ash that fell around their base, and Scorponok swore the darker patches of ash was actually dried blood – it probably was. The wolf itself stood much higher than the normal species in the area, meaning it was probably somewhere from further south. The word direwolf echoed in his processor: the largest of the wolf species they had found on the planet, excluding the werewolves.

Both werewolves in question were clearly on edge. That was when Scorponok realized that the wolf's eyes were bright red.

"If I remember correctly, you were supposed to be in your quarters resting, Terrorsaur. I extend a hand of sympathy, and you have the gall to bite the hand that feeds you. You're not particularly good at following directions, nooo..." Megatron grimaced, glowering at the newcomer rather than the flier he was addressing, clearly sizing the new Beast Warrior up. "Then I find you sneak out and you bring a complete stranger into the base? What is the meaning of this?"

Scorponok flinched at the term "bite." No, if any of that started happening, the Predacons would all be done for.

Terrorsaur shuffled his feet and looked up at the Predacon leader. He looked dazed, possibly even afraid—

The white wolf interjected quickly. His voice was a low tenor, almost musical in quality, with a noticeable accent. Scorponok couldn't recognize its origin. "Please, none of this was his fault, Lord Megatron. Had your soldier not responded to my private distress beacon... I was attacked, and he rescued me from certain deactivation. I am indebted to Terrorsaur unconditionally."

No, Scorponok thought immediately, reading the situation as he was already aware of. Terrorsaur went out, was attacked by this mech, and had been forced to bring him back. This Beast Warrior had been infected the same way Terrorsaur had – by a rogue animal that also carried the vampire-bound virus – and they crossed paths during respective hunts: except this Transformer was a more experienced vampire by far. The now-obvious wolf bite in the flier's shoulder was an indication of this, and the werewolves seemed to take full note. Waspinator had a mix of aghast terror on his face, and Inferno looked absolutely infuriated that the unknown vampire had allowed inside, on his watch, in the first place.

Megatron, entirely oblivious, was none the wiser: he was immediately interested in what the lupine shape had to say, likely taken by the mech's educated tone. If there was anything Lord Megatron was an absolute sucker for, it was intelligent conversation: especially since he was surrounded by idiots for the majority of the day, stranded on an alien planet with no hope of returning to civilized living anytime soon. He leaned back in his throne and looked past Terrorsaur to the new arrival, bypassing the red mech entirely. His voice was cool sounding in the hot chambers of the bridge. "You were attacked? Are you a new protoform? I don't recall the computers scanning a new pod entering the atmosphere – nothing gets by me, nooo."

Except vampires, Scorponok thought. Werewolves too. The tyrant could have been murdered on the spot and not even known it before his body hit the floor. The mechanic was quickly learning that his own adored leader was actually a clueless mess.

"Debris in this planet's atmosphere seemed to damage my recovery beacon. And yes – I was attacked. Please hear me out..." the mech stalked closer, trotting with an elegance that made Scorponok wonder how old this vampire was. He certainly wasn't newborn – how long had he been in the foreground of the Beast Wars and not come forward? Especially since Terrorsaur required energon in his diet, the maulings only started when Terrorsaur was turned. What had this mech been eating?

Something was wrong. The werewolves knew it, Terrorsaur knew it, and Scorponok was now more than aware of it, too. And there was absolutely nothing he could do without setting off a potential killing spree right on their home turf.

"I was activated in the mountains southeast of here: neutral territory, if what Terrorsaur said to me is correct. I lived there for several months and only started to venture north when a forest fire razed my makeshift home. I was eventually greeted by a Maximal in the forest."

"A Maximal?" Megatron asked, visibly intrigued. "Ah, are you also not a Maximal yourself? Without Predacon intervention, all stasis pods emerge as such. Your stasis pod contained the protoform of the crewmember from a Maximal vessel."

"I am sorry if my Maximal heritage offends you," the wolf said, apologetic. "After today, that should not be a issue of concern."

"The Maximal attacked you," Megatron said, thoughtful. "And what was the nature of your attack?"

Scorponok realized where this was going immediately: and he was horrified. This vampire was going to pin Terrorsaur's attacks on one of the Maximals, drawing attention away from himself and likely ending their temporary truce. Something was being plotted here, and even if Scorponok couldn't immediately pin what, it was absolutely not good news. Inferno and Waspinator looked at each other across the room, and from what the mechanic could see in their faces, they agreed.

"We should be careful of what this mech says, Lord Megatron," Scorponok suddenly found himself interjecting, even to his own shock. He never spoke out of turn like that, actually cutting off the newcomer. His mouth was running before he could stop himself. "It could be a Maximal trick! Surely you know we can't trust him."

Waspinator looked mortified. Maybe he thought pointing out the obvious would incite the vampire to attack right there and then. Considering Inferno and Terrorsaur shot him the same look, that seemed to be the case. But the vampire didn't attack.

"I implore you," the vampire said, turning to look at Scorponok. Unwittingly, Scorponok found himself looking dead center into his optics, and the world turned dark and spiraled into a tunnel. Scorponok felt like he was falling upwards and downwards at the same time. When he came back to, he was leaning against the console heavily, the vampire continuing mid-conversation with Megatron. "...am no threat to you or the rest of your crew. The Maximal that attacked was shrouded in mist, but they said they knew the way to the Maximal base. They seemed to assumed my data tracks were damaged and I was lost, so I kindly explained that I did not need help and tried to carry on my own way. I'm a field scientist, I'm not supposed to live in the actual base while we stay on a planet, but I did ask him for the codes to properly contact the Maximals myself…" He paused.

Megatron leaned forward and spoke with a solemn expression. "And yet you escaped unscathed."

"The entity lunged forward and attacked. They – attempted to tear me to pieces with their own teeth, outside of their chosen beast-mode. We scuffled for quite some time before the distress beacon I sent out was received by the closest mech: your soldier, Terrorsaur. He joined the fray and aided me in fighting my assailant off. Not a second too soon, too: I was getting tired."

"Terrorsaur would have already had to have been outside the base to reach you in time," Megatron pointed out, looking at the red mech in question. "Care to explain yourself?"

"I was – claustrophobic," Terrorsaur reasoned, voice audibly weak with strain. He sounded stressed, and rightfully so under the circumstances as Scorponok saw it. "I had to get out for some air. It was just a short flight, honest..."

"Your flier was damaged in the process. I offered to escort him on the way back to the Darkside to ensure neither one of us was jumped a second time. He filled me in on details regarding your 'monster' on the way here. Clearly, the beast is among the Maximals you and your crew and so reverently trying to fend off in these Beast Wars as you call them."

Megatron shot an almost accusing glare in Terrorsaur's direction. It faltered after a moment, much to Scorponok's own surprise, and the Predacon leader spoke again. "Is this true Terrorsaur? You divulged all our secrets to a Maximal?"

Terrorsaur did nothing at first. When he spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I had no choice."

Had no choice. Scorponok sputtered his claws hard, then pressed them hard on the edge of his hover pad to keep himself quiet.

"And you still managed to leave without alarming the rest of the base," Megatron countered. He sneered slightly. "How did you get out?"

Terrorsaur scoffed. "Blame who was on monitor duty?"

Almost immediately, Megatron's optics went to Scorponok. The mechanic found himself the center of attention suddenly as all optics were suddenly on him: and Terrorsaur looked abruptly very guilty. The mechanic chattered his claws loudly again, and this time he couldn't stop.

The wolf's ear twitched when he turned to look at the mechanic. "Ah. Well, in that case, I am also in debt to this soldier as well. Thank you, Scorponok."

Scorponok did not like being thanked. For the first time in his life, he wished the sudden influx of 'praise' was being redirected somewhere else: or that Megatron would just yell at him to leave already. He wanted out of that room right now.

Terrorsaur spoke up again. To Scorponok's surprise, it was an attempt to alter the tyrant pinning the blame on him. "I left after Scorponok was off duty. I heard him grumbling to himself as he passed by my room. I was gone a few cycles later. Tarantulus was on."

The tarantula-mech sputtered indignantly across the expanse of the bridge, throwing his claws up. "You insolent—! I was watching the monitor he whole time! It didn't detect anything, the damn thing had to have been broken!"

From her post, somewhere behind Tarantulus, Blackarachnia looked about ready to speak. Before the mechanic could realize he had opened his mouth, he cut in before she could make a statement about him not fixing it. "Maybe you broke it Tarantulus."

"Spider-bot should not blame technology," Waspinator added, almost calm sounding. It was probably an act, or maybe the werewolf finally wanted to draw attention to himself. The new vampire hadn't once looked in his or Inferno's direction, so it was likely the smell of sulfur masked their scents. It was clear now the wolf Maximal wasn't going to attack unprovoked, so alerting him to their presence would be a clear-cut message: why are you here, what do you want, and get the slag out. "Wazzpinator just think Spider-bot idiot."

Under normal circumstances, someone would be able to say something back at Scorponok that would make him wish he kept his mouth silent. These were not normal circumstances though, and Scorponok was shocked when Tarantulus looked like he couldn't come up with an adequate response. His mandibles flexed like he wanted to say something, but Megatron cut him. "I expected more from you Tarantulus."

Again, the scientist looked lost for something to say. He backed down. Scorponok looked at Terrorsaur and vice versa, and the Predacon offered a weak, thin-lined smile. Scorponok made a note to return the favor somehow.

"I don't recall you mentioning your name," Megatron suddenly said, looking back at the wolf. "Care to properly introduce yourself?"

"Oh, of course. Forgive me for being so rude. My social skills have fallen out of practice over the past few months..." The wolf cleared his throat and the air in the room seemed to become slightly more casual. For the briefest of seconds, Scorponok wondered if he really was a vampire. His eyes held a reddish tint, yes, but Terrorsaur (even before his vampirism) and Inferno had red optics. Rhinox had red optics, and the peaceful mech was a vegetarian to the point of it nearly killing the Predacons once (on that note, Scorponok never wanted to see bean plants ever again for as long as he lived). He spoke in a smooth voice that had an almost warmth to it, and Scorponok almost felt safe.

Until the vampire spoke.

"Slipstream, maximize!"

Every tube in Scorponok's body surged with artificial-adrenaline, but the mechanic was just too horrified to move. A part of him hoped it was a sick joke, perhaps his own imagination, but the wolf transformed regardless. The vampire pushed off the ground with his front legs to stand: a similar transformation to the rest of the mammalian Maximals aboard the active Axalon crew. The paws on his lower legs unfolded to reveal functional pedes while his beast-mode's front legs flipped around to fold into his shoulders. His beast-mode head folded into his chest and split evenly down the middle – there was a gold colored sphere in the middle of his chest that was surrounded by sparkling silver – before his bipedal form's head came out from under the transforming mass. His helmet was adorned with a small, gold tinted chevron that swept up his forehead over a silver face with high plates, and when he finally snapped his optics online, they were the unnatural crimson Scorponok came to associate with vampirism.

Scorponok's body rattled with the revelation. Slipstream – a vampire he had only read about as being ancient history – was standing in the room.

Slipstream smiled coolly. It held a renewed sense of dangerous intent to it, and even the non-involved parties of the vampire-werewolf conflict noticed. The spiders took a step back at their respective stations. Megatron reeled back slightly, his hand tapping – a nervous tick – on the armrest of his throne. Both Inferno and Waspinator, when Scorponok glanced over in their direction to gage their separate reactions, looked terrified. Waspinator's mandibles had fallen open in a gap and his optics were the size of dinner plates. Inferno's features were twisted in a half snarl, half horrified expression.

Terrorsaur remained emotionless. If anything, he had to have known who Slipstream was. His forcibly calm features bothered Scorponok even more.

Slipstream gave a curt bow. "My name is Slipstream. I was from the city of Iacon before it was built over and the mass-scale down of all Transformers was put into effect. I had been assigned to the Maximals' crew on the Axalon to be their field researcher, but it appears so much more has happened since I was put into stasis. Even though you are Predacons, and therefore enemies to my allies on the Axalon, your rogue monster appears to be one of them: a robot-in-disguise, if you will. I can't return to them after what happened today, least I risk being destroyed by your monster all over again. Until this conflict is resolved, and the beast responsible for these terrible killings has been brought to justice, I am more than pledge my loyalty to you and the Predacons."

Megatron seemed to take this information over, not reacting in any way to Slipstream's name. Neither did Tarantulus, but Blackarachnia blinked and appeared to be slightly uneasy. Maybe she remembered Slipstream's names from the files he had her look up: she didn't look at Scorponok at all, so maybe not. Scorponok doubted that she bothered to remember most of the information she gave to him the day before, anyways. Waspinator and Inferno spared twin looks that Scorponok couldn't quite read.

Tarantulus scoffed. "You must be very old to have been around before the size-conversion Cybertron went through, never mind being from Iacon. You must be ancient!"

"Twelve million years old, actually. I've been around since the Great War. I fought in it."

Scorponok shook. This, without a doubt, really was Slipstream. The most dangerous vampire in all of Cybertronian history was in the room with them, and they were entirely at his mercy: a robot-in-disguise indeed. Now the Maximals were going to be blamed for the monster attacks and attention from Slipstream would be drawn away, whatever his true motives were. Scorponok wasn't sure he wanted to know. It wouldn't – couldn't – be good.

Megatron nodded, making a gesture with his hand and moving it forward to the console in front of his throne. He tapped the screen and seemed to be bringing some sort of data screen, possibly the radar again. His optics found Slipstream's form and he seemed to study the lupine Maximal. "I see. So Optimus Primal was lying when he said he had no idea about the identity of our monster, yesss... he must be protecting it if it really is one of his men carrying out the mutilations. The fool is too soft on his men: we'll have to abandon this truce effective immediately, if what you say is true."

"It is," Terrorsaur said, lying. However Slipstream had threatened him, it had to have been extreme.

Megatron nodded. "And how would you suggest we kill this monster?"

Slipstream looked around the room. The moment his optics passed over Scorponok, the mechanic was sure he was either going to scream, lose consciousness, or just plain chatter his claws loud enough to alert the Maximals in their base over the kilometer distance between both bases. He kept his cool just barely – only by the skin of his teeth – and the vampire's acute eyes passed over Inferno and Waspinator. The werewolves immediately tensed. Waspinator's wings went rigid while Inferno slowly, almost idly placed his hand on the holster of his flamethrower.

Slipstream spoke again. "The monster that has caused you so much grief seems to have established new hunting grounds in the northern territories split between the Maximals and Predacons. It should stay there for as long as there's prey to hunt, but given the frequency of the mutilations, it goes through entire ecosystems very quickly. After these killings, it returns to its allies and hides among them. The Maximals may be entirely unaware they are harboring this beast."

"The animals," Blackarachnia concluded. "It kills all the animals it can, then moves on. Except when it does, it has to cross over into our territory. If it finds a stasis pod, or any other Transformer with its guard down, it attacks out of instinct."

"No doubt our beast-modes are having an effect on this behavior," Tarantulus spoke up after his counterpart, thoughtful in his own deductions. "When we took on animal forms in place of vehicles, we inherited traits from those organic creatures as well. Instincts, scents, mannerisms... our resident butcher Maximal, if what Slipstream says is to be believed, is mauling and murdering victims as a result of their own faulty beast-programming. They won't be easily stopped."

"That eliminates Rhinox, Rattrap, and Optimus Primal," Megatron said. "Their beast-modes are hardly predatory in nature. The others, however..."

"Tigertron is a likely candidate then. He's already so elusive among the Maximals, it's a good fit. Airazor, too. Dinobot is a likely well..." Blackarachnia offered. She gave Slipstream another sideways glance. Maybe she was onto him, too. Then again, maybe not. Scorponok couldn't read her.

"They will likely run out of suitable fauna to hunt soon," Slipstream cautioned in a low tone. "When that happens, another Beast Warrior or stasis pod will be attacked. As a field scientist, I would like to try and track this monstrosity and try to stop it before it can do this. If I may Megatron, I would like to organize a party to go up the mountains where to attempt observing the beast. Knowing more about our enemy will allow us to deal with it more efficiently, and it simply cannot fight off multiple mechs. It'd need two fliers to keep a sufficient lookout, perhaps some muscle… and a mechanic. I presume you have one."

Scorponok blinked. It took him a moment to realize who Slipstream was asking for and, instantly, he was horrified. Across the room, Inferno grabbed the hilt of his flamethrower in a threatening gesture and Waspinator's head snapped between Inferno to Terrorsaur… and then he looked to Scorponok with petrified optics.

Slipstream was distinctly calling out Terrorsaur, Waspinator, Inferno and him.

Inferno barked a laugh. The term 'bark' seemed accurate enough, but the ant's tone was mocking in a sense. His tone was also disbelieving. "Mechanic? You wish the use of the drone Scorponok?"

Tarantulus cackled in an aggravated tone, clearly unawares to the reality of the situation. "I believe I would be far more useful—"

"I don't need another scientist," Slipstream said coolly. He turned to the scientist and glowered slightly, making the tarantula straighten his pose on his hover pad. His optics seemed to brighten from the light illuminating from the crimson lava pits below. "From what Terrorsaur politely explained on the way here, you are the resident science-officer, and none too bright, in fact. My expertise specifically falls under analyzing wildlife and natural habitats: I don't need some folly physicist dissecting our monster on a molecular level."

"Folly?" Tarantulus sounded personally offended. "Folly! How dare you—!"

"A mechanic – a real mechanic – can assist in rigging traps and analyzing the physical attributes of how the world works around them. I need someone like that," Slipstream continued, as if the purple mech hadn't said anything at all. "You have a mechanic on this crew, yes? This Scorponok, your berserker mentioned?"

"Present," Scorponok ground out, barely finding his voice in time. He purposely didn't agree to anything: not yet.

"Wazzpinator will volunteer as flier," the aforementioned wasp said immediately. His wings had dropped behind him a move relaxed gesture, but Scorponok could easily tell it was a pseudo-calmness. Waspinator, just ever so slightly, was trembling: he was scared positively shitless.

Beside him, Inferno saluted Megatron. "I will also volunteer, my Queen!"

"Don't call me that," Megatron griped. He turned to Scorponok and made a gesture with his hand towards Slipstream. A smirk tugged at the corners of his poised lips. "Well, as you're our only mechanic, I will personally assign you to Slipstream's little exploration party."

Slag. Scorponok's bit down on his tongue to keep from shuddering and chattering his claws.

Slipstream smiled and gave another curt bow. It wasn't as deep as the one he had given the tyrant prior, but it was a bow all the same. "Thank you, sir. We'll be leaving immediately."

Waspinator looked in Scorponok's direction, eyes bright in fear. Scorponok turned away to avoid his gaze. If he looked at Waspinator's fearful expression for too long, he was sure he'd lose his nerve completely. Unfortunately, turning away proved to be even worse on the account that Terrorsaur had turned in his direction. He caught sight of Terrorsaur's face, suddenly equally fearful, and his eyes flashed with an unresolved worry towards the grey mechanic. All at once, Scorponok knew right off that Terrorsaur knew it was the Slipstream from the Transformers' vampire legend. All of them had every right to be afraid.

Slipstream inclined his head to look in Scorponok's direction. No one else seemed to notice beside Scorponok and Terrorsaur – Inferno and Waspinator had turned to one another to whisper in hushed voices, the spiders had returned to work, and Megatron was doing something on the console at his throne – and Slipstream smirked at the mechanic. Terrorsaur gasped. Scorponok felt his circuits flush cold.

He saw fangs poking out of the corners of the ancient vampire's mouth.

I know you know.

vii

Waspinator kept his shoulders squared as they walked across the lava fields on the cool rock. Although the Darkside's final resting place was an active volcano, there were enough spots across the exterior where small groups could safely travel. While Terrorsaur and Inferno took to the air, Slipstream and Scorponok were left on the ground alone... that was, until Waspinator decided to serve as a much needed chaperone. Scorponok deeply appreciated the gesture, given the gravity of their situation.

The wasp's voice was quiet when he leaned in close to Scorponok's audio receptor. "Whatever Scorpion-bot does, don't look into vampires' eyezz. Is bad..."

They were nearly across field now, almost out of range of the base's peripheral scanners. They headed towards the forest that Scorponok had gone into the night before, but at a different mouth: far more northbound than south, towards the mountains. Scorponok looked over at Waspinator whispered back as they neared the threshold. "You said that earlier. Why?"

"Vampires have special powerzz," Waspinator replied, watching Slipstream. Scorponok could tell by the angle of his cocked head. The vampire in question was still trotting ahead of the group in beast-mode, which he seemed to favor at the moment. He paid the wasp no heed, even though he was clearly in hearing range. "Vampires can use hypnosis. Some can even learn mind control – verrry bad, Wazzpinator thinks..."

Scorponok briefly remembered looking into Terrorsaur's optics when they had their meeting in the vampire's room. Their eyes had met and Scorponok abruptly recalled he had not felt well after meeting his gaze. It made sense suddenly, but it greatly unnerved him at the same time. "It's a hunting tactic?"

Waspinator nodded, grim. "Yep. Wazzpinator thinks that Slips-bot used it on poor Terror-bot. Got Terror-bot subdued and able to lead Slips-bot back to Darkside. Made Terror-bot tell everything, even about werewolves and Scorpion-bot... even though Terror-bot is physically stronger then Slips-bot, Slips-bot is a more experienced vampire."

Scorponok raised his optic ridges. "Terrorsaur is stronger? How?"

"Physically," Waspinator murmured, sparing Slipstream another. "Newborn vampires stronger than normal physically for first few years, but even though older vampires not as strong, skill givezz them edge."

And Slipstream was a very experienced vampire, if history was to be believed. Scorponok looked past Inferno to watch Terrorsaur following behind Slipstream. He looked almost meek the way he was flying, having a nearly submissive air lingering around him. Scorponok looked back to Waspinator. "Is Terrorsaur going to be okay?"

Waspinator didn't answer.

Inferno spoke up to interrupt, touching down when they reached the top of the crater and passed over the crest of the hill: out of sight from the base's cameras and scanners. The dying forest edge lay several meters ahead, foliage grey from encroaching exposure to the lava field. Beyond that, the deep forest remained unaffected by the sulfur, dark and secret. "We are clear."

Slipstream turned to look at the group, his expression now notably dangerous. The gentleman-esque air that held his aura before was long since gone, replaced by something far more ominous. He initiated his transformation sequence back to robot-mode, optics narrowed to slits.

"Keep up," Slipstream intoned, voice low.

The ancient vampire was gone in a flash of motion seconds later, passing into the treeline like a shot out of a gun: Vampire super-speed? The mechanic shuddered at the thought. Ever hoping to outrun a vampire was out of the question, emphasized further when Terrorsaur shifted to robot-mode and went in pursuit of Slipstream. Scorponok's onboard odometer clocked the speed at nearly eighty miles per hour. Inferno lurched forward after them next, his entire body contorting. It was mesmerizing to watch: unlike their standard shifts between beast and robot-mode, the werewolf transformation was far more extreme. The pyromaniac's entire body twisted in a painful looking manner, elongating limbs and erupting fur from between joints. Inferno was already more wolf than mech when he landed on his front paws, and by the time he hit the treeline and bounded after the vampires, he was already unrecognizable as an ant or mech.

Next to him, Waspinator was gone, too. In his place was a large black wolf with its body still shuddering, transformation completing. Unlike Inferno, Waspinator still somehow managed to look like Waspinator as a dog. The slightly more gangly appearance, the blue eyes, the way he anxiously shifted when he turned to look at Scorponok, slowly lowering on his haunches—

Scorponok understood the gesture immediately, and equally as fast, he wanted nothing to do with it. "Oh no. No way. Absolutely NOT—"

Waspinator whined and wagged his tail. The werewolf waited, persistant... then barked loud when Scorponok still make the indication to move towards him. It was loud enough that it made the mechanic's audio's ring painfully, and he found himself hastily climbing onto Waspinator's back seconds later. He wasn't in the position to negotiate, anyways. He swung his legs over the large wolf's shoulders, already resisting the urge to chatter his claws in terror. Riding a gunhorse was one thing...

"Okay, okay! I'm getting on, don't blow a gasket," he stammered hurriedly. Waspinator merely grunted in satisfaction, then stood up to his full height once Scorponok was settled. The werewolf was tall enough on all fours for Scorponok's pedes to completely leave the ground. Waspinator jerked his head up slightly to look at the scorpion over a broad furred shoulder, and Scorponok nearly lost his balance and fell off. He lurched forward in his seat and tightly wrapped his arms around Waspinator's huge neck, keeping himself from slipping.

The Predacon werewolf's eyes flashed with permission. Scorponok nodded apprehensively. All he could do was hang on for dear life when Waspinator started to run.

When the Darkside encountered the Axalon in deep space and attempted to escape, it entered hyperspace using transwarp drivers. The interior of the ship was g-controlled, allowing the Predacon crew to only minimally feel the effects of the jump without giving them as much as whiplash (as well as prevent them from being pasted into oblivion on the opposite wall). No such safety net existed riding bareback on a giant wolf, going from zero to seventy in less than five seconds, up the side of a mountain. The werewolf bolted into the woods like a laser blast, wind whipping violently against Scorponok's face as scenery whizzed by at breakneck speed. The black wolf weaved between trees and bounded over divots in the foliage, coming so close that the mechanic swore that they were going to hit something. His head swam from motion sickness, and Scorponok had to bury his face in the wasp werewolf's dark hide to keep from getting sick. The aroma that radiated off him was pine.

His onboard tracker indicated they were gaining momentum.

Whereas Inferno was the "brawn" within their pack, Waspinator was pure, undiluted speed. The wasp's velocity began to increase – slowly at first, then with increasing notability, even as the mechanic kept his head down – and when Scorponok did look up, he saw Inferno running alongside them and beginning to fall behind: the red wolf had at least a minute's head start previously. The scenery went by so quickly, Scorponok didn't dare check his odometer: if he so much as choked, falling off at this speed would absolutely cripple him. They broke the forest edge and entered at a full gallop into an open field. The mountains shifted across Scorponok's vision lazily in the distance, mist rolling in from the high altitude as they entered a similar mountain range themselves. Sunlight caught off the molecules in the air, shrouding them in shimmering, silver light. The scorpion was so caught up in the serene display that he nearly let go of Waspinator when a tree zipped past his face again. They had reentered another stretch of woods, far beyond any patrol route standard for the Predacon forces. This was unknown territory.

Waspinator suddenly pulled up past a flash of red – Terrorsaur – and abruptly became airborne. There was a deep ravine that led to a severely depressed patch of forest, overshadowed by massive pines and conifers. Scorponok's scream caught in his throat, the air literally sucked from his lungs. The wasp landed in the dark clearing, skidding to a graceful stop in the dirt, and Scorponok promptly fell off and landed like a sack of gaskets. As he rolled to a stop, Waspinator pivoted on his gangly legs and whined at the mechanic.

Scorponok sat up, sore. "Thanks for the warning."

The werewolf flashed his teeth in a gruesome parody of a smile, and it was both stupid and horrifying. Body shuddering, shrinking, and fur neatly retracting, Waspinator managed to regain his original shape. The grin split into twin mandibles, wings fluttering excitedly between his newly reformed shoulders.

"Wazzpinator loves to do that," the wasp said, reaching out his hand. Scorponok took it as the young mech helped haul him to his feet. At the same time, Terrorsaur came leaping over the incline, landing several yards away on his hands and knees. He stood up but didn't approach them right away.

"Maybe we ought to invest in a saddle," Scorponok said jokingly.

"Wazzpinator has tried. First few models were not good. Terror-bot tested two. Refused to test third."

At least the other Predacon was still able to conjure his sense of humor, despite their otherwise grim circumstances. Briefly, Scorponok realized that he really liked Waspinator. Making friends within the Predacon ranks was odd territory (Waspinator and Terrorsaur were sort of the only "true" friends in the Darkside crew), and Scorponok never considered the possibility of making his own. They worked together as mercenaries under Megatron's command: not allies, like the Maximals. Waspinator was young and foolish, but he was kind and radiated positivity almost to a fault. He wondered if they could be friends.

If they survived what happened next, he thought. Maybe.

Slipstream was already in the dark clearing, lazily circling the perimeter of their meeting spot before starting to close in. His optics were bright red with mirth, hands folded carefully behind his back. Waspinator was immediately in front of Scorponok the second the wasp deemed him too close, and Inferno followed moments later as he finally came bounding over the small cliff behind them. The huge red wolf landed with a crash, snarling and baring his teeth. He didn't immediately turn back to his mech self, hairs standing on end, haunches poised and dropped with the threat to pounce.

The kind and civilized expression Slipstream had worn back at the Darkside was gone, replaced by something far more sinister. He grinned: fangs on full display. "My, this certainly is a unique group. Where do we even begin?"

"You're supposed to be dead," Inferno hissed, already halfway through his transformation. As he stood back up on two legs, he drew his flamethrower: aiming it at the ready, finger on the trigger and the safety switched off. "You are ancient history, parasite."

"The irony is palpable, believe me, dog" Slipstream laughed, grin never leaving his face. He seemed pleased with himself. "The culprit to our meeting is a maelstrom of bad decisions, featuring some very stupid Maximal scientists on Colony Omicron."

"We will ask questions! Wazzpinator does not like Slips-bot acting so mighty!" Waspinator shook his fist at the other mech, positively defiant, but Scorponok could see the slight tremor in his wings. He was still afraid: rightfully so. Suddenly, he went rigid. "Wait. Did Slips-bot say Omnicon?"

"What is that?" Inferno glanced at the wasp, still sneering. "A place?"

"It was," Waspinator replied, still locked in on Slipstream. "Was a place in deeeeep space. Maximal settlement, away from Cybertron. Was destroyed. Attacked by terrorist group. Killed everyone there... attack was blamed on Predacons. Predacons treated even more like slag on Cybertron after."

Scorponok remembered. Colony Omicron was a small settlement built into the moon of a planet named Aegis Five, home to a large scientific community. The whole colony was declared completely destroyed in some kind of brutal terrorist attack: one that was still kept under wraps years after it happened. There were no survivors. The colony was never rebuilt, and blame for the settlement's destruction was placed on Predacon extremists wanting to revive Decepticon ideology. Already strained Maximal-Predacon relations was pushed to the brink. It was the catalyst that prompted Megatron to concoct plans for stealing the Golden Disk.

"The scientists of Omicron were not as benevolent as they were made out to be. Frankly, neither were the Autobots." Slipstream made a face at the word – Autobots – and turned his nose upward in disgust. "As it turns out, some sparks gain the sheer willpower to become immortal when far too close to death, and mine was one of them. After my 'death' at the hands of Optimus Prime on Earth, my disembodied spark floated in an abyss for many years. Fate had me return to Cybertron, and an idiot mech – Perceptor – allowed me to reign havoc on its surface personally."

"There are no records of this," Inferno spat, indigent. "How do we know you're not lying, leech?"

"Because I am living proof, mongrel," Slipstream snarled. "The records were likely scrubbed when Cybertron's energy crisis and pitiful sizing down happened. My spark endured death and returned to Cybertron, and I was able to possess and inhibit a new body: some idiot named Fullbarrel. My spark seized control of him easily."

Waspinator shuddered: no doubt remembering Starscream. There was merit to Slipstream's spark being immortal, after all. If the ancient Decepticon Seeker could persist after death, why couldn't Slipstream?

"I discovered that my original body had been returned to the planet too, preserved for the sake of armor-regeneration experiments. The project was spearheaded by a mech named Perceptor, who stupidly ignored Optimus Prime's orders to have my body smelted. He was the one who ultimately gave me an opportunity: to remind the Autobots that they would not get away with forgetting me. Honing in on my powers, I was able to infect others like the Earth-bound vampires of old. When my army's numbers were large enough and the Autobots were foolish enough to draw too close, I unleashed them. It was a farce that I was defeated by Rodimus Prime and Ultra Magnus—"

"But defeated you were," Inferno said.

"And mutant spark survived again," Waspinator added, darkly.

Scorponok felt his circuits run cold again. Terrorsaur, still distant from the group, went rigid in the mechanic's peripheral vision.

"My hive mind presence was able to infect the cyber hawks of Iacon," Slipstream continued. "I was too weak from my defeat to properly assimilate my spark into a whole shape, so it survived as scattered fragments on the wind. Perceptor must have noticed. He was just so keen on returning his friend Kup to his normal state after I infected him like so many others, desperation drove him to repeat his past mistakes. The hawks were captured on his orders and moved between research institutes to try and find a cure. Perceptor's distractions drove him to suicide before he saw his doomed friend brought back from vampirism, but the experiments on the hawks continued long after his passing. Centuries went by. When it was determined that my spark had properly reformed, and the scientists realized I once again transcended death, I was moved to Omicron. There was a department there that existed for the sole purpose of researching mutant immortal sparks. The main focus of their experiments was researching descendants of Starscream, many of whom bore the same rogue mutation. Protoform X, a Predacon sparkling, was their star child. When my essence was finally moved from the hawks into its own protoform, I was dubbed Protoform Y. There was a third among us, but Protoform Z remains a mystery to me."

Inferno glowered, and his optics flashed. "You and Protoform X destroyed Omicron?"

"No. I wouldn't have been so stupid as to be captured again, given the opportunity." Slipstream made a face as if he smelled something foul. "Protoform X cannibalized the entire colony simply to vent his own frustrations, and I was forced to watch in-between periods of translucency. The next thing I knew, both Protoform X and I were being loaded as cargo aboard a Maximal vessel, the Axalon. We were slated to be thrown into the nearest sun – the fools on Omicron had kept our condition as immortals secret! They were unwittingly going to restart our cycle of immortality anew, in the feigned hope of eliminating all evidence of Omicron's true sins. It had been so long, no one remembered who I even was: I was just another unknown time bomb, as Protoform X had already proven himself to be. The audacity..."

"And we all know what happened to the Axalon." Inferno frowned. "Your stasis pod was ejected into orbit with the others. Protoform X, as well."

"It still may be some time before you meet him," Slipstream said vaguely. He was smirking. "Unfortunately, you have a much larger threat to deal with – or an ally."

Inferno looked personally offended by the notion. "With the sudden jump of organic vampires in this ecosystem, I doubt we could ever be allies."

Scorponok looked at Waspinator critically. His head turned so fast, he heard a gear pop in his neck. "High population?"

Waspinator didn't answer. There were even more vampires, not just Slipstream and Terrorsaur.

Slipstream's grin widened slightly, allowing one of his fangs to peek over his lips. "Ah, well, allow me to apologize. When I revived outside the range of Maximal and Predacon scanners, I presumed I had been the only one left alive after the crash. It was awfully lonely. A hive mind like myself can hardly function without a colony, and with the help of my transorganic beast-mode, many of the native lifeforms on this planet proved excellent for turning."

A colony of vampires. Scorponok felt a knot in his throat.

"You created a colony before for less than peaceful intentions," Inferno began, voice threatening and low. "What makes you think that we will believe you were simply lonely creating a new one?"

"I'm sorry, if you could maybe direct me to the nearest metropolis, I would be more than happy to live up to your expectations of world domination." Slipstream laughed at his own joke, which echoed in the high arching forest as a haunting bark. "There's nothing on this desolate dirt ball, mutt. I learned my lesson the first time: planetary domination is a fool's errand without sentient life to control, and the vampires I've turned are still little more than the animals I originally found them as. I'm done trying to avenge myself. The Autobots are already long gone. Dealing with the werewolves who continually threaten my colony is my new mission."

"Vampires threaten environment!" Waspinator said, furious. "Do bad things! Kill too many of lots of species!"

"Your convictions as environmentalist hooligans is the true threat. Before turning into dogs, you never would have cared otherwise: instinct drives your actions now." Slipstream glanced between the two present werewolves, sizing them up, and not looking particularly impressed. "I'm still surprised there are only two of you. Why not turn the rest of the Predacons? It would give you an edge in your ridiculous Beast Wars, that's for sure. If you at least had the common sense to turn your friend Terrorsaur, well, we may even be having this conversation."

Waspinator seemed to lose his patience all at once. He took a step forward and crouched down, shaking and straining. It was as threatening of a pose as it was protective, and Scorponok realized it was taking every ounce of his willpower to turn right there and then. "What does Slips-bot want!? First he makes lots of vampires that hurt Wazzpinator's friend, then he comes to Darkside being all creepy and dark, and – now what!?"

Slipstream laughed. It was a high, mighty sound that resonated around him like a veil.

"I wanted to make an offer," Slipstream said, finding his voice again. "As you know, I was never always able to turn bitten mechs into members of my extended family. It was a skill that came with age and honing in on my powers, and Terrorsaur has proven to me just how far those powers have come. My first turned mechs were loyal, obedient members of the hive mind I presented to them. Terrorsaur is the first sentient mech turned since those days on Cybertron, and he's special. He has free will, composure, and has kept his core personality without bending or even experiencing the call to the hive mind. I didn't even know he existed until I stumbled across him in the woods this afternoon. He could be of importance, so with your blessing, I wanted to extend an invitation."

"Invitation to what?" Terrorsaur, for the first time since arriving with Slipstream on the Darkside, seemed to find his voice. He sounded equal parts terrified and angry. "You attack me first, and now you want to be friends?"

"Allies," Slipstream clarified, or at least tried to. He continued in an explanation when no one responded to his correction. "You are the first equal I have faced with the same affliction as me. Let me teach you how to control your powers, and in turn, I can also learn more about our condition through you. We can aid one another in self-discovery. Your werewolf friends can aid by helping protect my colony, and us, from other wolves. We could even grow to be a small family, if the conditions are right."

"Bah! Family!" Inferno sounded incredulous. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You think we are stupid enough to believe this trick? Werewolves and vampires could never be allies, never mind family! I won't allow it!"

"A pity... but my offer to Terrorsaur still stands," Slipstream said. "He is special. Of all the species on this planet I have managed to turn, only one has come up as being on par with my original Cybertronian vampires... and even they are barely shadows at best. Terrorsaur is the light – the real thing."

Waspinator twitched. "A certain speciezz?"

"Primates," Slipstream simplified.

Something moved in the underbrush across the clearing, at the top of the opposite incline. Terrorsaur squawked and trembled violently. Inferno's eyes blazed and he snarled, raising his flamethrower to follow a new target. Waspinator growled, his mandibles opening slightly to let his hiss carry. Scorponok felt like he was going to be sick. He clacked his claws loudly, and he couldn't stop.

A pale, spindly thing was slowly making its way down to the clearing from the outcropping it had been previously perched. Downwind, the werewolves would have never detected it in the shadows. The thing was clearly supposed to be bipedal, not properly shaped to be on all fours, but it kept low to the ground and edged towards Slipstream. It was a hairless native ape, outlines of bone poking out through its emaciated white skin. As its bright red eyes warily passed over the group, it hissed and bared its teeth. Scorponok could see fangs in its black mouth.

The vampire that ultimately infected Terrorsaur hadn't been alone. If there was a colony as Slipstream said, there would be hundreds more. Horror passed over Scorponok at the realization.

That sense of horror was tripled when the primitive vampire reached a clawed hand towards him.

Waspinator reacted immediately, lurching forward in a feigned attack and barking. Inferno let out a screech, going to pseudo-lunge as well. The proto-vampire screeched in surprise and reeled backwards, falling onto its back and flailing. It twisted around like a writhing snake before skittering behind its hive mind. Terrorsaur jumped as well. Scorponok nearly leapt clear out of his own casing, stumbling back himself.

The white mech laughed. "Don't be alarmed, dogs. It will only attack if I give it permission to. It merely finds your pet... appealing."

Inferno's body shuddered with barely restrained anger. "That thing is a monstrosity."

Scorponok looked at Terrorsaur. The red mech looked like he was going to be sick.

Slipstream chuckled and reached a hand down towards his creation. The vampire looked up and obediently maneuvered its head under its master's palm. Slipstream stroked it almost lovingly. "Only because it follows its instinct, just as you werewolves do. Wouldn't that make you a monstrosity as well? Aren't we all monsters, here?"

Inferno was enraged, trying – and failing – to rein in his self-control. He looked ready to turn and attack at a moment's notice. "Never compare our kind to yours, parasite."

"I suppose it's a losing battle, trying to wrestle sympathies from you. What a shame." Slipstream crossed his arms over his chest. His proto-vampire stayed at his heel, poised with loyally radiating from its marble hide. "As you can see, this vampire is nothing at all like Terrorsaur. I knew, if I were to make this point to you, you would need to see the evidence for yourselves. Terrorsaur doesn't belong surrounded by dogs. He belongs with his own kind."

Inferno's jaw clenched and his optics narrowed. He stood straight and said nothing.

Waspinator was very upset with this statement. "Terror-bot is our friend! Does not need to go with Slips-bot ever!"

Slipstream ignored him, directing his attention to the red flier in question. Terrorsaur shuddered under his gaze and looked down, and Scorponok felt sorry for him. Slipstream continued. "You're unwelcome among these mongrels, friend. How would you like to come with me? You should speak for yourself, rather than letting these dogs dictate your existence. I can help you – if you would only let me."

Waspinator's mandibles made a gasping noise, drawing air sharply through his mouth in surprise. Inferno continued to stay silent, uncharismatic even for him. Scorponok watched, and he continued to pity Terrorsaur.

Terrorsaur snapped to attention. He looked up into Slipstream's optics and he was caught in them immediately. He looked as though he wanted to say something, his mouth opened as if he was going to, but his no sound came out. Scorponok, briefly, was eerily reminded of himself.

Looking at Terrorsaur, he saw his own reflection.

And that scared him.

Terrorsaur made a small noise. "What?"

Slipstream smiled tentatively, almost sweetly. There was a sour undertone Scorponok could practically taste. "I was even younger then you when I turned. I was scared, hurting, but I had no one to teach me how to control my abilities. I couldn't control myself. Even with these dogs watching your every move, it won't stop you from slipping up... and when you are as powerful as a vampire, you only need to slip once. You'll lose yourself just as I did. When that happens, these wolves will be forced to kill you. I've seen the Children of the Moon slaughter my vampires. I once saw three rogue werewolves pull one of my daughters apart, limb from limb. They let her writhe in agony in a pool of her own blood before they finally devoured her – alive. It's only a matter of time before you suffer the same fate."

Terrorsaur's expression changed from quiet to obvious horror. Inferno continued to say nothing. Waspinator screamed.

"That's not TRUE! Ant-bot and Wazzpinator would NEVER DO THAT!" His anger was like a storm swept upwards and down again, crashing into the earth like a lightning strike. The wasp continued, waving his hand in an offhand gesture too angered to mean anything: he was pure, undulated rage. "Werewolvezz protect the balance of life! Ant-bot and Wazzpinator not destroy it!"

"Then," Slipstream began evenly, "why is it that your kind is so adamant about hunting vampires?"

"Because they…" Waspinator trailed off, and his optics bulged in his head. He turned to look at Terrorsaur, but the damage was already done. Terrorsaur watched Waspinator with hurt optics, and both friends stared at each other for a long time. Scorponok pitied both of them.

"Because we destroy," Terrorsaur said.

Waspinator was backpedaling, but it was too late. "Terror-bot, Wazzpinator not mean you—"

Slipstream smirked, confident. "Cat got your glossa?"

Waspinator said nothing: at least not right away. Scorponok thought he looked ready to cry. When he finally spoke up, his voice was watery. He turned to Inferno. "Tell him, Ant-bot! Wazzpinator and Ant-bot never hurt Terror-bot! We—"

"Remember your promise Waspinator," Inferno said slowly. The red ant looked to Waspinator, taking his stare off Slipstream.

Terrorsaur seemed confused. "What promise?"

Scorponok remembered the conversation Inferno and Waspinator had in the hallway under the swinging lamp. "Just remember what you said, Waspinator. As soon as he tries to attack one of us or the others, you have to keep that promise."

Waspinator looked torn. His hands trembled.

Terrorsaur screeched. "What promise!?"

Waspinator flinched. It was obvious he wasn't going to say anything so, in his place, Inferno spoke up.

"If you attacked anyone," the pyromaniac said slowly, looking Terrorsaur in the face, "we planned on killing you ourselves – to ensure the safety of the Predacons."

Terrorsaur's face constricted in anguish. He looked at Waspinator, jaw tight and a cable in his throat twitching with poorly restrained grief. Waspinator reached out to him, expression mortified, but Terrorsaur turned away and look down at Slipstream's feet. The way his red eyes turned cloudy was strikingly similar to the night before, when the red flier saw the cross lying on the ground.

That was when Scorponok realized something very, very important. Despite the fact the red flier hated being a vampire, and wanted to die in a sense if he couldn't find a cure for himself, Terrorsaur was still afraid of actually dying... and the one person who he thought was truly on his side had betrayed him.

Waspinator was nearly in tears. "Please, Terror-bot—"

The red flier wasn't having it. Terrorsaur grabbed his head, clasping his shaking hands over his helm, and he started to back up. He gnashed his teeth, baring fangs, and offlined his optics. "No… no…"

"You could prove me wrong, Terrorsaur," Inferno said slowly, voice even and emotion lacking in his usually gruff tone. Scorponok didn't like the way he spoke for reasons he couldn't immediately place, but Inferno continued before the mechanic could contemplate further. "You don't have to go with Slipstream, as Waspinator says. You could stay and prove me wrong. Maybe I've been quick to judge. Maybe you really won't attack anyone... then again, maybe you will prove me right. Maybe you don't have the willpower to keep from killing everyone. I made a promise to Waspinator not to kill you the second you showed symptoms of vampirism, and he in turn promised to kill you himself if you so much as lunged. I will not go back on that promise. The decision on what to do now is yours. Choose incorrectly, and you may burn."

Almost right away, Terrorsaur looked in Scorponok's direction. There was a fearful look in the red flier's optics. The mechanic knew right off what Terrorsaur was thinking. He really didn't want to hurt anyone, and Scorponok had already nearly been a victim.

There was something else to Inferno's words, too. Scorponok realized it moments later: he was trying to convince Terrorsaur to leave. Inferno hated the vampire because of what he was… and he wanted a reason to kill him for it.

Defecting from the Predacons was a good start. It was a trap, and Terrorsaur doomed no matter what he chose.

Waspinator spoke up. "Terror-bot, please listen to Wazzpinator—"

"I don't have the willpower," Terrorsaur nearly moaned, his ebony fingers turning into ugly hooked claws on his head. He never took his gaze away from Scorponok, and Scorponok couldn't help but stare back. "I just… I don't…"

"Make your choice quickly," Inferno said. "Either you live with us at the Darkside, putting everyone at risk with the chance of you being killed by us when you do eventually lose control, or…" He gestured to Slipstream.

"It's your decision. You can be with your own kind and learn how to control your newfound powers..." Slipstream's voice was a coo as he reached a hand out towards the red pterosaur. "The proto-vampires are unintelligent, completely loyal to me because of my hive mind status. I could teach you how to rule your own colony. We could be valuable allies in this world. Come with me."

Terrorsaur turned to look up at Slipstream for the first time, red optics hesitant. "I…"

Then, in that instant, Scorponok realized something else very important. Horror leapt up inside of him, forced out of his own vocalizer before he could stop it. "NO!"

All optics, as well as the proto-vampire's organic eyes, snapped towards Scorponok. The primitive vampire hissed through its gaping black mouth and Slipstream glowered. Terrorsaur jumped, Inferno looked annoyed, and Waspinator seemed stunned, slack jawed and maybe even a little horrified. Above them, several crows were disturbed and took up in a flurry of feathers and jeering. When the forest hushed, the tension in the air was thick with malice.

"Excuse me?" Slipstream asked, the silky politeness in his voice replaced by something more aggressive.

Scorponok found himself blabbing before he could shut himself up. Doing all the research he had, perhaps, was just as bad of an idea as it was good. Information that he had memorized the night before rushed through his head in flashes of jumbled memory. "Don't listen to him, Terrorsaur! It's a trick! Vampires don't propose partnerships just out of the blue. When vampires live in colonies, there's never a partnership. There's always one master vampire at the center, the rest are all pawns! It's a hive mind, and one hive mind would never ever suggest another hive mind be forged alongside it. He's going to use you!"

Slipstream narrowed his scarlet optics till they were mere slits. "This doesn't concern—"

Scorponok didn't listen. To his own credit (and surprise), he was enraged. Scorponok never got angry – ever. His temper had always been relatively docile – despite his scorpion alt-mode naturally being an aggressive animal, it had barely an effect on his overall demeanor like some of the other Predacons – but he couldn't help but yell. "He only wants you because you're smarter than all the other vampires he's made! He wants you is so you don't become a threat to him later, because you will!"

Inferno started. "Scorponok—"

Terrorsaur opened his mouth to say something.

Scorponok shouted over both of them. "Don't listen to him! You can't! If you do go, the first thing he'll do is make you just as brainless as those proto—"

"Enough," Slipstream snapped, unquestionably angry now. "Your stupidity tests my patience, maggot. Perhaps you should shut your mouth before you regret—"

He flashed his hand at Scorponok in a violent gesture. The proto-vampire misread the gesture as a command, and suddenly lunged across the clearing.

Scorponok's coolant ran cold.

The thing ran forward on all fours, its spindly spine curved as it raced forward in a blinding flash of white. Even at that speed, Scorponok could still see a flash of red optics and pointed fangs. There was a breeze as it took to the air, pushing off the ground to close the remaining gap between them—

Inferno and Waspinator had no time to react. Terrorsaur did.

Just a foot away from taking Scorponok's life, the lunging proto-vampire was tackled to the mechanic's left by Terrorsaur. The red mech had reacted almost immediately to the monster's charge, slamming into the horrible thing at almost sixty miles per hour. Both parasites went down hard, sending a spray of dirt and pine needles in their wake. Terrorsaur landed roughly on the creature's body, smashing his whole upper arm against the vampire's chest, and it squealed in agony when bone audibly snapped from the weight. It reached its clawed hands forward and grabbed Terrorsaur by his shoulders, throwing him to the side. Terrorsaur retaliated by seizing it around its neck with a free hand, sending them both rolling in a frenzy of white and red.

Scorponok watched in revulsion.

The vampire barred its fangs and sunk them deep into Terrorsaur's exposed shoulder. The mech screamed and he took his other hand, clawed it, and brutally clamped it down on the back of the proto-vampire's skull. He tried to tear it away and the proto-vampire wriggled like a serpent against him, yanking back on the pterosaur's throat with another hand with the intention of tearing it open. Terrorsaur kicked his legs furiously as he bore his own fangs, screeching like a vicious animal the whole while.

The flier's hand on the back of the vampire's head clenched, and the vampire's skull cracked under the pressure.

The proto-vampire, effectively inflicted with a mortal wound, screamed. It let go of the flier's shoulder, choosing at the last possible second to reposition its head and sink its fangs into Terrorsaur's throat. The fangs hit home and sent a brief spray of energon into its face, but the proto-vampire rapidly waning strength left it no match against a fully functional Transformer. Terrorsaur let out a furious battle cry and twisted its head violently to the left, sending a nauseating blast of copper odor across the clearing. The rest of the birds that hadn't already fled above them took off crowing, feathers falling.

Scorponok expected Terrorsaur to simply rip the monster's head clear from its spindly shoulders. Terrorsaur, instead, opted to tear the proto-vampire away from his damaged throat, bare his own teeth, and bite the proto-vampire's face clean off.

It was like watching a macabre holotape in slow motion. Terrorsaur sank his teeth into the monster's pale skin, his fangs entering the left eye socket and the lower left cheek, and the bone crushed easily under the sheer force of the bite. The vampire thrashed, throwing its arms about wildly and squealing. Terrorsaur snarled and drew his head back sharply, separating the entire front portion of the monster's skull from the rest of its head. Still alive, the frightened squeals upgraded to agonized banshee shrieks. Blood spattered across the pterosaur's pale face like spilt paint. He grabbed its flailing right arm, snapped it easily, and he smashed his fists into its marble smooth chest. Scorponok was too horrified to turn away as Terrorsaur proceeded to dig his hands inside the shattered torso, pulling free entire ribs and entrails. The ptoro-vampire wailed death throes even when Terrorsaur resumed biting, sinking his fangs into its neck and shaking.

The vampire's head was finally ripped away from its body.

The corpse continued to flail, spurting blood from its mangled stumps as Terrorsaur continued to tear it apart. The body became more and more unrecognizable, piece by piece. A leg came lose. An arm. By the time Terrorsaur was finally finished, he was pulling the late proto-vampire's curved spine free from freshly mutilated flesh, tossing the remains of his kill into the center of the clearing. It landed with a wet thud by Slipstream's feet, sending a misted spray of blood onto the white mech's synth-fur. Terrorsaur stood there, panting and standing crouched over, and for a split second Scorponok thought Terrorsaur was going to turn around and attack something else. The pterosaur stood motionless and breathing heavy. In that second of distraction, Scorponok saw the proto-vampire again: curved back, black mouth ajar, fangs bared, blazing eyes...

The image faded instantly when he heard Terrorsaur start to cry.

The red flier's optics looked distant as he trembled in horror. He stood slowly stood to his full height, facing Slipstream. The white mech's face was neutral, but his optics were hard. That hardness only intensified as Terrorsaur's voice quavered.

"I revoke your invitation," the red flier said, determined. "I'll take my chances with the wolves. I'm going to fight this. I'm not going to give up like you did. You threatened Cybertron once before, and since I'm one of the idiots who lives there, I'm not about to side with the mech who almost destroyed it."

The red flier's eyes brimmed with moisture and some of it escaped rapidly down his face. He was terrified, and Scorponok realized it wasn't just at Slipstream: the terror was directed at himself.

Terrorsaur gestured roughly to the dead vampire's body. "I'm not going to let myself turn into that. I'm not going with you. Now leave."

Slipstream smirked.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and Scorponok knew he wasn't the only one who noticed. Out of the corner of his optic, the mechanic could see Waspinator and Inferno frozen in place, still stunned from the events of the slaughter that had taken place in front of them. Both werewolves looked at one another the second that soft grin tugged at the corner of the ancient vampire's mouth, worrying expressions mirrored on both of them. Had Slipstream accounted for this? What was he so pleased with?

"You have no idea how much this amuses me," Slipstream chuckled, shifting to his beast-mode with a smooth transition. He stood tall on his haunches, muzzle pulled back in a borderline fiendish grin. He looked like the cat who ate the canary – or the wolf who just finished eating an entire baby. "Your kill was somewhat sloppy, yes, that can be easily fixed with practice. I could tell you enjoyed it. We'll be in touch, Terror-bot."

Terrorsaur howled. "LEAVE!"

Slipstream didn't flinch, and he said nothing more. Point made, the white wolf turned sharply and bounded up the over the top of the slope. As he darted into the slowly gathering mist, silence crept over the clearing: he was gone, like a ghost. The only evidence that he had ever been there with them was bloodied mass of the proto-vampire still sprawled out on the ground, already beginning to gather flies and fill the air with the stench of rot.

The moment he was out of sight, Terrorsaur sidestepped, clasped his arms around his stomach, and purged everything that was in his tanks. He spat a glob of blood out of his mouth and he sobbed again.

No one moved.

Waspinator took a weary step forward, arm outstretched for his friend. Terrorsaur completely lost it.

The red flier jumped up away from the wasp and landed with his knees bent, looking ready to bolt at a moment's notice. "Don't TOUCH me! NOBODY TOUCH ME!"

Optics wide and frame poised to run, Terrorsaur suddenly leapt backwards. He landed on the opposite ravine slope and slipped slightly in his haste, chest heaving with effort. He was having a panic attack. He didn't dare turn his back to the werewolves (and by extension, Scorponok himself), as he half crawled, half scrambled up the hill in a slight crabwalk. His back bumped into a tree, and with nowhere to go, his optics darted once more to the barely recognizable carcass of the proto-vampire. Then he looked directly at Scorponok.

Scorponok was suddenly reminded that Terrorsaur had just saved his life.

"I'm sorry," Terrorsaur breathed, voice rasped. He tucked his knees to his chest, put his face in his hands, and cried.

A hand was suddenly on Scorponok's shoulder. "Is... is Scorpion-bot okay?"

The grey mechanic found he couldn't answer right away. Waspinator shook his shoulder again, and the scorpion returned to reality before craning his neck to look at the green mech. His claws sputtered and he nodded, uneasy. "Y-yeah…"

Waspinator's face was unreadable. However, right as he turned to Inferno, it twisted into something akin to muted rage. "Ant-bot…"

Inferno's face twisted with frustration and he glared at the smaller werewolf. "Don't start, Waspinator."

The wasp's shoulders tensed, and his wings stood up on end. He walked forward to Inferno as his voice dropped to a furious whisper. "Wazzpinator will start on whatever Wazzpinator wants. Ant-bot and Wazzpinator need to talk."

Scorponok legs felt weak under his own weight as the two began to quietly argue. The smell from the proto-vampire was beginning to infect the air, already heavy with whatever it was – something inherently bad – that had transpired just then. Slipstream was back. He wouldn't simply back down after making the effort to call them out. Whatever his true motives were, they were going to find out soon: and Slipstream already knew the layout of game. Scorponok – and by extension, the werewolves and Terrorsaur – barely understood the rules or where to even start placing pieces.

It wasn't until the mechanic found himself looking up the incline where Terrorsaur was perched that he realized he was moving. Terrorsaur was curled in on himself defensively, still shaking, and Scorponok found himself edging closer. His footfalls made low crunching in the leaf litter as he knelt down as close as he could. The angle was odd, his footing was uneven, but he felt like he had to say – do – something.

Scorponok's voice was hoarse when he finally found his voice. "Are you alright, Terrorsaur?"

Terrorsaur snapped his head up, optics blazed in a mixture of surprise and terror. The red mech's faraway gaze darted to Scorponok, and as the terror faded, the surprise intensified. Scorponok was the last person he was expecting to approach him.

The grey mechanic tried to keep his claws from stuttering, but there wasn't much he could do for the waning confidence in his voice. "Are you going to be okay?"

Terrorsaur still looked confused, but there was a thoughtful glint in his stare. He gulped, not quite meeting the mechanic's eyes: focusing on the space between them. The flier's voice was barely above a whisper. "I think so."

"Are you sure?" Scorponok wasn't sure why he was being so persistent with associating himself with Terrorsaur. The urge was just there: gratingly important and unwavering, no matter how hard he tried to fight the involuntary grip. It didn't bug Scorponok as much as the mechanic would have preferred, not anymore.

He and Terrorsaur were a lot alike. Maybe, he thought, he just wanted to connect with someone who understood the same fear he did.

Maybe they could get over it – together. Maybe.

Terrorsaur seemed to pick up on this. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his right optic and made managed a pathetic sigh. "Y-yeah. I just need to… think. What about you?"

Scorponok blinked. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Terrorsaur's voice seemed to shudder with the rest of his frame, and Scorponok swore he heard something rattle inside the other Predacon's casing. Maybe the proto-vampire had done more damage than he was letting on: either way, his rapid self-healing would take care of it, but it didn't stop Scorponok from worrying all the same. "When you were attacked…"

"I'm fine." Scorponok said quickly. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, and as the steady claw made contact with his armor, he suddenly realized he hadn't sputtered them once while talking with Terrorsaur. He was – calm. He hadn't felt like that in a long time. "Thanks for saving me."

Terrorsaur, despite himself, offered a dry laugh. It was fleeting and held no humor, but it showed a glimmer of the old, pompous Terrorsaur all the same. Yeah, he was going to be fine. "No problem."

"SCORPONOK!"

Scorponok turned his head fast enough to make the gears in his neck painfully creak. Inferno, his optics wide and furious, bore hard into him from across the clearing. There seemed to be a hint of fleeting fear too, and it suddenly dawned on Scorponok why when he heard Terrorsaur gasp low. Waspinator's hands flew over his mouth.

Scorponok had snuck off to see the flier when the wolves weren't watching. Then he had turned his back on and exposed his neck to Terrorsaur.

Waspinator took a tentative step forward, reaching out. His expression was gripped with mute horror. "Terror-bot…?"

Terrorsaur, out of the corner of Scorponok's vision, spoke with a voice that trembled ever so slightly. "I'm fine."

Inferno's eyes didn't leave Scorponok, though. The words passed between them silently. and Scorponok did not need to be told twice about getting away from Terrorsaur. Inferno never stopped glaring. The buzzing of flies droned on, and somewhere in the deep wood, a wolf howled.

viii

The rest of the day was uneventful, thank Primus. Once the four Predacons returned to the Darkside, Scorponok immediately retreated to his quarters. In the background as he left, he could hear Inferno reporting to Megatron they had successfully set up a camp for Slipstream. The tyrant attempted to pry for more information, but Inferno played his role as loyal "idiot servant" so well, his lies convinced Megatron easily. For all the Predacon leader knew, they saw nothing interesting in the mountains and simply let Slipstream to begin his observations.

Scorponok never saw where Terrorsaur and Waspinator went off to.

The mechanic had the rest of the evening off, so he tried to get some sleep. Recharge never came to him, though. His head was still racing with the events of the afternoon, and the light in his room was far too bright for the migraine starting to work its way into his processor. Then the three loud knocks on the door were far too loud for him, too. He slowly stood up, still sore from the ride back, and half expected to see Blackarachnia complaining that he never took her shift that day. The other half of anticipation belonged to seeing Waspinator.

Terrorsaur looked lost in the doorframe when Scorponok opened it, and the flier froze like a deer in headlights. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah," Scorponok squeaked, caught off guard. He fumbled awkwardly, then stood aside. It didn't make sense to talk to the flier in the hallway: especially when pesky spiders or even Megatron could be in audial-shot. That, and if Terrorsaur made the initiative to approach him on his own, it was likely he didn't want the werewolves involved either.

"Waspinator passed out in my room," Terrorsaur explained, answering the unspoken question. He hesitated – then shuffled in. His optics were back to their normal shade of red, and the blood had been cleaned from his body long before returning to the Darkside. "Running with passengers takes it out of him. He was exhausted. I didn't want to wake him... and I wanted to talk to you alone, anyways. Thanks."

Scorponok the door shut behind him. "For what?"

Terrorsaur's jaw set tighter. The grey mechanic could see the flier's optics were glued to the industrial light, watching how the shadows cut lines across the small room. "For shouting at me not to take Slipstream's offer. I was so torn about the whole being-a-monster thing that never even occurred to me that it would be a trick. If this Autobot is the real deal like the records say, all the good intentions in his spark died in the spacebridge accident that turned him."

Scorponok inwardly shuddered and his claws clattered. "No problem. It just... it seemed too good to be true, you know? Sort of like when Megatron offered us this job back on Cybertron."

Terrorsaur laughed. It wasn't a particularly pleasant sound – he squawked and his voice cracked – but it was genuine. "Good point. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice..."

"Let's not try to think about twice," Scorponok offered, sitting down at his desk. Terrorsaur had already moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Slipstream will be back. Whatever he wanted with you, he wanted it under the guise of permission. That way the Inferno and Waspinator wouldn't be immediately suspicious if you did decide to disappear. That's why he wanted a meeting."

"He made me tell him everything," Terrorsaur continued, echoing Scorponok's train of thought. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Vampire hypnosis is slagging powerful. He made me tell him about the wolves, about you—"

"It doesn't matter if I'm not a vampire or werewolf. I got mixed up, so now I'm involved. I don't have a choice anymore."

"You got that right." The red flier sighed, looking up and watching Scorponok carefully. "Do you really think Slipstream is afraid of me?"

"Maybe not of you, but what you are," Scorponok tried to reason. He paused, hesitating, before recollecting his thoughts. "You heard what we said. When Slipstream was originally defeated on Earth, his mutant spark simply moved on to Cybertron. He infected hundreds of mechs. All of them were loyal to him, slaves to an entire hive mind—"

"And now that he's been revived again," Terrorsaur began, "I... I'm different. I'm different because I'm so much like him."

"No. You're not like him at all." Scorponok paused, then gestured with his claws to – all of – Terrorsaur. "You're still you. That's what must be bothering Slipstream enough to offer that bogus peace invitation. When Slipstream turned as an Autobot, he turned into a literal monster. The records even say that Slipstream's personality split, and the half that was a vampire trumped the original cadet. You're still Terrorsaur."

Silence descended on the room. The red flier seemed to mull the information over... and then he laughed again. It was quiet – subdued, even. "You have more faith in me than even Waspinator."

"Waspinator means the best. He's stuck between a hard place and – Inferno." Scorponok found himself leaning forward. "He loves you, Terrorsaur. Both of you are best friends. He would do anything to protect you."

Terrorsaur didn't answer: not for a long time. The two of them sat in silence for several minutes, but the air never thinned with tension. It was relaxed – easygoing. For the first time since the whole vampire-werewolf debacle, Scorponok felt calm in his own wretchedly small space. The industrial light was a comfort. Terrorsaur made him feel – at peace? With himself?

"So… about shifts tomorrow..." Terrorsaur trailed off, sitting up straight and stretching lazily. "Waspinator and I are going to be taking sky routes again, but Blackarachnia and I usually share the double computers for monitor duty. I know you said you'd take her shifts for her because she helped you. You don't have to if you're... uncomfortable... but, I mean..."

Scorponok understood where this was going, and he was genuinely... what? Shocked? Touched? "You want to spend monitor duty with me?"

Terrorsaur rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You did the research and figured out what I was when none of the others could, and I can't really talk to Waspinator about… what's happened to me. He doesn't get it. I figure we could at least... trade notes? Maybe you caught some things I missed. I just – I could use someone to talk to. That's all."

The grey mech clicked his claws only once. The urge to sputter wildly them, oddly, was nonexistent. "Sure. I... I'm not sure how much help I'll be, but – absolutely."

Terrorsaur smiled. It was gone seconds later as the pterosaur Predacon stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Scorponok."

Before the red flier left through the door, Scorponok found himself raising one last question. "Why did you save me?"

Terrorsaur stopped in the doorframe, frame tense. He said nothing for a long time. When he did, his tone was quiet – passive. "I wish someone had been there to save me."

Scorponok – unnerved by the red mech's parting words – watched as Terrorsaur left and shut the door behind him. He stayed seated at his desk for several more minutes before crossing the small space to his berth. Just as he was about to lie down, there was another series of knocks. He was convinced it was going to be Terrorsaur again – and part of him hoped it would be, for some reason – but Inferno stood towering in the frame. His optics were ablaze.

The werewolf's face slowly twisted into a frown. "Terrorsaur was here," he growled gruffly. "I can smell him."

"A few cycles ago," Scorponok replied meekly. It was ironic, he realized, just how comfortable he felt with Terrorsaur previously. The fire ant held a malicious air that seemed even more outwardly dangerous than Slipstream.

Inferno pushed himself into the room and made a face. "I'll be spending the night with you from now on in regards to your safety. Waspinator will be staying with Terrorsaur. Exactly what was he doing down here?"

Scorponok felt his grit his teeth in aggravation. As if the room wasn't small enough: Inferno took up nearly two-thirds without him. "He came to talk."

"About what?"

"Is it really your business?" Scorponok didn't mean to sound rude, but he was seriously beginning to get annoyed. "He just wanted someone to talk to tomorrow during monitor duty, so I offered to sit with him. I also thanked him for saving me."

The werewolf's optics flared like the flames that usually spewed through his flamethrower. The thought of Inferno whipping the torch out in his own room made the mechanic remember just who he was talking to. Maybe, Scorponok thought, it would be best to watch what he said around the pyromaniac.

Inferno flexed his digits and shook his head before sitting down with his back against the side of the recharge berth. "He's treacherous."

"He saved my life," Scorponok tried to reason again. "He can't be as bad as you say he is."

"He is a vampire." Inferno didn't turn his head to address him, but the ant's optics still found Scorponok's when the mechanic walked over to his berth. The scorpion wasn't too keen on having a babysitter, but there wasn't much more of a choice he had in the matter. "Their kind kills for the thrill of it. They destroy all life they touch. It's a werewolf's job to keep his kind from ruining the balance this planet barely maintains unaided."

"It's your instinct to say that," Scorponok countered. His voice was meeker than he wanted it too, but it served its purpose with getting Inferno's attention. The ant inclined his head towards where Scorponok laid down on the berth and, realizing he had the other Predacon's attention, he continued. "You don't know what goes through a vampire's head, so you don't have the right to say you know how they work. The fact is, you don't know. No one knows but Terrorsaur. If you could just try to understand, we could all work together."

"But I know enough," Inferno huffed and turned away. He wasn't the kind to listen to reason. "Waspinator is firmly against it, but I believe you'll be safer as a member of the pack."

Scorponok recoiled. He had been settling down on his back when Inferno's words sank in. He was rolling onto his side before he even realized it, staring at the back of Inferno's head. "What?"

"Slipstream knows you are the weak link," Inferno began, starting to lie down. "This will not be the last time we hear from him, if he does have a whole colony of those proto-vampires. Of all of us, you're an obvious target for anything he could be planning. The safest route for you would be for Waspinator or I to turn you. It could be a life or death situation – think about it wisely."

In an instant, the bipedal ant-mech was gone. In his place was a large russet wolf, folded neatly on the floor with its huge body taking up the entire closet's floor space. Inferno turned his huge head to look at him, ears perked and a low growl resonating deep in the beast's throat. His muzzle pulled back, baring teeth as a silent warning for Scorponok to stay put. Finally, after several terse seconds, the massive wolf laid back down. Scorponok watched Inferno for quite some time before settling back onto his berth himself, watching the ceiling with a sense of growing dread. Even without the garneted hell of recharge, he could still see images of the day's events against the steel. Terrorsaur's face, Slipstream's voice, the proto-vampire's animalistic eyes and shrieks when it was brutally… then, finally, Inferno's proposition being one he knew the ant would not give him much of a choice to refuse.

When the realization of his choices – lycanthropy or death – finally hit him, he forced himself to go into recharge in an attempt to not think about it. He woke up in the dead middle of the night clicking wildly from the subconscious images feed to him of a large, thundering grey wolf racing up a twilight mountainside.

Inferno did not wake up, and Scorponok stayed awake for the rest of the night. When dawn broke, it was the first day of autumn.