NOTE: Thanks for all the positive feedback, guys! I'm glad you like Silence! Personally, I adore him.

Just know that for a teensy tiny while, the focus won't be entirely on OP/Parker, because the plot is shifting in a new direction. Also, some huge things happen in this chapter; Parker meets my other Robo-OCs. I adore each and every one of them. And I had to introduce them quickly, because things are starting to pick up and we'll be getting into the third movie soon.

Anyways. About my OC robots. I seriously adore them. They're such a ragtag group! I hope none of their names are taken, so PLEASE tell me if they are part of the actual TF fandom!

ALSO: A note on Legacy's accent. I picture it as really, really, really thick British. Like Russell Brand, but even more dramatic, so that it borders on annoying. I wrote it out that way as best I could. I hope you're able to understand it!

Chapter 44

I'd gotten home safe and sound. Laserbeak had thankfully called into work sick for me, feigning my voice. Now I'd had to call in sick again, because I really am sick. When I'd come home, I'd gone straight to the kitchen and eaten everything and anything I could get my hands on. And then, of course, it had made me sick and I'd thrown up. Then I had showered, then eaten again, more slowly this time.

And now, two days later, I'm sprawled on the couch, trying to breathe through my clogged sinuses. I hate being sick; it's absolutely disgusting. But I have to pull myself together; Optimus is coming over. With a groan, I sit up from the couch, getting a nasty head rush. I have to tell him everything, of course. But first I need to speak with Silence, who is parked in my driveway since Ronnie isn't home.

Dressed in a warm sweatshirt and baggie sweatpants, my hair stuffed in a beanie, I make my way out to Silence. I've been talking to him almost constantly since I'd been returned back home, but he never talks back, which makes actually conversation pretty difficult. But I'd asked him about the others like him, and I'd been surprised to learn that, apparently, there are quite a few out there. It had taken some time for me to pluck up the nerve, but I'd finally made the suggestion:

"I mean an uprising, Silence," I tell him, resting my hand on the grill. So far, he hasn't been listening. "Not a big battle, but a silent revolution. Don't you think it can be done?"

He makes a low sound. He's not like Bumblebee. I don't know how to interpret him, but I'm pretty sure the sound is negative. I groan. "Are you afraid of Megatron? Is that it?" Another low groan, but this one sounds like a confirmation. "Okay, okay. I get that. And I don't want to go against him. But if he's planning a battle, Silence—and I don't know, because you won't tell me—I can't let the Autobots get hurt. If there are Decepticons out there who don't entirely support him… well, it only makes sense!"

He bumps me and I swallow, my throat burning. I hate sore throats. "Silence," I sigh. "Think about it. We just need someone to lead us, you know?"

He transforms, then, getting down on one knee in front of me. I'm not sure how I'd ever missed the kindness in his eyes before, the uncertainty there, the weariness only soldiers know. It makes me sad.

"This can work," I murmur, touching my hand to his outstretched finger. "I really think it can. It doesn't have to be violent. No one has to get hurt. But if Decepticons suddenly stop working for him, then he can't do anything! No one gets hurt anymore!"

He shakes his head at me.

"What about the others," I demand. "What do they think? Surely I'm not the only one thinking this."

He goes still, and I grin. It's all the confirmation I need.

"You know the others, don't you? Personally? Or at least some of them. I want to meet them."

I don't know why I say this. Maybe I'm hoping to convince them to just stop. And, if what Laserbeak says is true, I'm running seriously short on time. I open my mouth to say something else, and then I hear Optimus's engine. Silence's face goes cold, livid.

"He's here," I tell him. "Scram!" He gives me a serious look. "I won't tell him anything, don't worry. But get out of here!"

He folds in on himself, settling back into the Impala before he drives away, leaving me alone with Optimus as he pulls up. He's not technically supposed to, but now that we're somewhat allies, he's giving me some leniency. I rush Optimus when I see him, glad, having missed him since he'd been gone.

"Hi," I say, pressing my body against the grill. His gentle chuckle drifts out to me before I back up and he transforms. "I have so much to tell you."

He gets down on one knee, bracing his hand on the pavement. I lean against it, stroking it fondly, feeling suddenly incredibly energized in spite of my cold. The news of other Decepticons like Silence has me almost frantic with my need to meet them, to do something of worth with them.

"Are you ill?"

"Yeah," I say, shrugging. His eyebrows crease in concern, and I wave him away. "It's not too bad, though. Nothing I can't handle." I step into him and hug his leg. "I missed you. A lot."

"I missed you, too," he says fondly. "What did you need to tell me?"

He lifts me to his face. I make sure I'm alone (out of habit. I'm trusting Silence not to set me up) and then I spill; I tell him about my kidnapping and my starvation and dehydration and sickness. His fist clenches furiously, but I calm him down, needing to tell him about Silence.

"The Impala," I gasp excitedly. "Optimus, he's not really one of them. I mean, technically, he is, but he's different. He's—well, not a rebel, exactly, but he could be."

"What gives you that idea?" Optimus's voice is cautious.

"He saved me," I whisper. "More than once. And I asked him. He—he doesn't speak. He refuses to. But his name is Silence, which fits him I guess, because he never talks. And he says there are others like them, and—"

"You're babbling," he says, his voice deep and affectionate as he touches a finger to my lips. I grin and bite my lower lip. "Perhaps I should speak with him—"

"No," I say quickly. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one, he told me not to tell you," I say, holding up a finger. "Two, he doesn't like the Autobots. Three, one of your guys like destroyed his face, so I'm pretty sure he's not gonna be too friendly. But there are others like him. I want to meet them. Just think of what it could mean!"

Optimus looks concerned.

"I don't know that… that's the best idea," he says slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't it seem too convenient?" He asks slowly. "Too coincidental?"

I think about this for a moment. "Maybe," I say. "But… I have to try it, right?"

"Unless it's a test," he says pointedly. "In which case, you would fail. Forgive me, but I haven't known Megatron to be the forgiving type."

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "So, what? You think I should pass it up? Not meet the ones who could potentially help us?"

"I don't know that they could help—"

"Of course they could help!" Optimus blinks at me. "Don't you see? Optimus—we don't have to fight—" He closes his eyes at this, rubbing his forehead. "If there are others out there who work for Megatron but don't support him," I go on firmly, "it could help us."

"And what, exactly, do you plan to do?" He asks, his voice almost harsh. "Start an uprising? A revolution?" Well, yeah… "Parker, you should know better than anyone that placing your trust in the Decepticons isn't the best of ideas."

For some reason, this hurts. I sniff and look away from him, tilting my chin up defiantly. "Funny," I snap. "But the Decepticons were there for me when no one else was. Megatron saved my life, if you remember right. So, forgive me if I want to save his, too."

Optimus goes still, and I realize I've said the wrong thing. I close my eyes and hang my head, ashamed.

"What do you mean by that?" He speaks very slowly, and I feel suddenly like I'm tip-toeing through a field of landmines. One wrong move…

"Nothing. I—I mean…" I pause, then bite my lip, determined. I should not have to hide this. I look back up at Optimus, meeting his eyes squarely. "When it comes right down to it, I choose you. Always. You know that." He nods slowly. "But would I prefer it if I didn't have to choose? Yes. Would I do anything to stop the epic showdown that I know is going to happen between you two? Yes. Because—no offense to your fighting skills or anything—I'm afraid of losing you. But I'm afraid of losing him, too."

I take a deep breath. "So, yeah. I'm sorry if I don't want you two to fight it out. Sorry if I just want to stop that day from coming."

For a moment, we are both silent and still. I look away from him, and the silence hangs between us for a while. I cough and my head pounds, and I jump slightly when I feel his massive finger stroking along my spine; up and down, up and down, his eyes focused on me, but dark, lost somewhere.

"I would do anything," he says gently, "not to put you through that. I would give anything to keep you from having to choose."

"Thanks," I whisper, then clear my throat and shrug. "But, whatever, right? This is a war. Shit happens. And I choose you. Always."

His breath whooshes over my body and warms me, and I look up into his face with a timid smile. His face softens.

"As it is," he says, "this war has reached the point where there is no avoiding our… 'epic showdown,' as you put it. That day will come, Parker. Eventually."

"I know." I shift in his hand, rub my hands softly over his thumb. "But what d'you say? I really, really think I should try to meet them."

"It could be a trap."

"He's never tried to trap me before," I point out, both to prove my point, and in a sorry attempt to get Optimus to see goodness in his brother. "He's always taken care of me. I don't see that changing out of the blue."

"And what if this—Silence—has been lying to you all along? What if he isn't really on your side?"

"It's possible," I admit. "But at this point, I have no reason to believe that."

We watch each other for a moment.

"Come on," I urge.

"You'll do it even if I say no, won't you?"

"Normally, yes," I say with a quick smile. "But that would entail lying, and I promised not to do that anymore. So, as much as it would pain me to sit back and do nothing, I would."

His eyes widen fractionally, and he nods to himself. "But, think about it. I could do something useful. I'll tell you everything I find out. We might have more allies here, Optimus. Wouldn't that be great?"

"It would be," he concedes, nodding.

"I need you to treat me as an equal here," I say firmly. "Like an adult. I can handle this. I'm not useless, you know. Let me do something helpful."

"I have never thought of you as anything less," he says gently, bringing my forehead to his mouth and resting it there for a moment. I rub his palm slowly, waiting for the verdict. He groans lowly.

"Alright," he says. "Tactically speaking, it would do us well to know that there are Decepticons that are potential rebels. You… you should try to find them." It sounds like he's trying to choke the words past his lips, but I gasp in joy. I kiss the length of his lower lip, whispering "thank you" in between the kisses, and he chuckles.

"Do not put yourself in danger, please," he groans. "I am doing this because I trust you. Please don't make me regret it."

"You won't," I tell him, kissing his forehead now. "I promise."

He pulls me away and I watch him fondly for a moment, thinking in wonder about how things have changed between us. He's showing me so much trust lately; he's truly treating me as an equal. I will not squash that.

"Oh," I say a while later. "One more thing." I lower my voice. "Megatron's plan… it's going to happen soon. Laserbeak said it wouldn't be much longer."

Something like a low growl ripples though him and I rub my hands over his cheek. "I won't let him take you."

"I know," I say. "But… maybe you should. I've been thinking about it."

His head snaps to me, and all of a sudden he looks at me like he's looking at a stranger.

"I mean—" I stammer quickly, "I don't want you fighting for me! If he wants me, he's going to take me. Just—maybe don't fight it?"

"That is ridiculous," he says stiffly. "I will not allow him to take you."

And I can see, right now, that the conversation is over. Not because he wants it to be, but because I know now isn't the time to discuss it. We still have time. But I have been thinking about it, and the more I think about it, the more I realize I have to go with him, when he comes for me. It just makes sense, but I don't try and voice it again. I'll wait for another day. I've already asked for enough as it is.

Eventually, it comes time to part ways, considering the no-sleepover rule. So I Cybertronian-kiss him goodbye and watch him leave before I head inside. Ronnie comes home about an hour or two later, and I'm asleep on the couch when she does. She pokes me awake and I move to my room, leaving my window open for Laserbeak. His visits have been inconsistent lately, though, so I don't have to worry too much about seeing him tonight.

Which is why I'm extremely annoyed when a tapping at my window wakes me. With a groan I roll over and sit up, glaring at the window. I jump when I realize that it isn't Laserbeak—it's Silence. I get up and pad quietly to the window.

"Silence," I murmur, "what are you doing?"

He gestures for me to come out, then offers me his hand. Trusting him, I climb on and he sets me on the ground. He looks out toward the road, then at me, pointedly, and transforms, the door popping open. I swallow, and he revs his engine.

"Okay, okay," I growl, climbing in nervously. "Where are you taking me?"

Of course, I don't get a reply. There is no sound as he drives me away. I can only hope that I've been right in giving him my trust. After a while, I realize he's taking me to the place where I'd discovered him when I'd followed him. The abandoned, creepy area. Soon enough, we've reached an old, abandoned warehouse. He stops gently and opens the door, signaling for me to climb out. When I do, he transforms again and walks toward the warehouse, glancing at me once with that one red eye. I follow quickly, nervously sticking closely to his side.

We enter the dark warehouse, the only light supplied by his lights. And we wait. I'm not sure what we're waiting for, but we wait. I lean against one of the hard crates, my heart fluttering, telling myself that everything will be okay, that there must be a reason for this.

Finally I hear something. It's the cough of a really, really old engine, and it backfires as it grows closer. I glance up at Silence, but his face betrays nothing. He stands and opens up the huge warehouse door, and I watch as headlights illuminate the darkness for a moment. I catch a glimpse of an old car—a really old car, an electric blue Shelby Cobra with white racing stripes. I stare for a moment before the familiar sound of someone transforming fills the air, and the shape of a red-eyed robot takes the Cobra's place.

The robot is tall with the same electric blue armor the car wears, though there's something different about its body—something distinctly feminine. It blinks at me, its doorwings—like bumblebee, it has doorwings—fluttering and shifting before it gets down on one knee before me, inspecting me, before standing and turning to Silence.

"Silence," it says in a decidedly feminine voice. It's not the loveliest of voices, but it isn't horrible. It's just… plain. Blank. Curt, that's the word I'm looking for. She's got a curt, no-bullshit voice, something like what I would expect my grandmother to have, if I knew her. Silence inclines his head to her, and then she goes about ignoring me. She's about Silence's height, with a slightly more slender build.

I'm distracted from watching her, though, as another rumbling engine steals my attention. I glance up just in time to watch a camouflage-painted Yamaha Grizzly speed around the corner, transforming and landing on all fours in front of me, crouching with a snarl.

I flinch back. It's one of the tiger-things! It growls in my face before Silence nudges it gently. Its tail twitches and it glances up at him, and I swear it chuckles before it paces away, coming to rest beside the transformed Cobra.

And then we wait some more. No one speaks much. The Cobra says a few words to the ATV, but that's it. Silence makes an impatient sound, and then I'm startled as I hear a soft purr, a steady buzz of a high-horsepower engine. My jaw drops as a sexy, sleek, SSC Ultimate Aero speeds around the corner (my obsession with cars is something I'm finally not ashamed of), fishtailing and swerving, coming to a dead stop about three inches in front of me. I shriek and press against the wall and the Cobra chuckles. Slowly, the white Aero unfolds, red eyes bright, mouth smirking.

I've never, ever seen a robot more obviously female. And, even in her robot form, she somehow manages to maintain some of her vehicle sexiness. She's all sleek curves and angles, all confidence and cocky demeanor.

"Hey, Silence," she says, giving him a nod as she backs up and away from me, still smirking. Even her voice is sexy. "We all here?"

"No," says the Cobra. "We're still waiting on—"

Tires screech, and another set of bright lights blinds me for a moment. It takes me a second to realize that it's a motorcycle—a black Ducati 999, to be more specific. It screeches to a stop at the Aero's feet, splashing her with dirt and dust.

"Ick," she says furiously, shaking her foot at the Ducati, who transforms quickly into a shockingly small robot, maybe six and a half feet tall, tops. I'm even more stunned when the small, black, red-eyed robot turns to face me and the strangest thing happens. Skin seems to cover him, a lot like the holograms, except that it goes over his metal, complete with clothing; he's dressed like a biker, of course, but a sexy biker, clad in black jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket. He has a crooked smirk and stunning white teeth, pale skin and jet black hair, his eyes large and dark. He quirks me a dimpled smirk.

"Hallo!"

I just blink at him. The Aero snorts and rolls her eyes in disgust. I can only stare at the Ducati-slash-robot-slash-man. It takes me a moment to realize that he's like Alice had been. What had she called herself? A pretender? Something like that.

And then I have to stare some more, because of his accent. I would have never imagined something like that coming out of someone like him.

"About time you showed up," the Aero drawls.

"Ay," he says, giving her a dirty look. "Why don' you jus' shut yah trap, hm?"

She growls lowly, and Silence steps between them. The Ducati grins at me again and offers me his hand. I shake it timidly.

"Me name's Legacy, luv," he says brightly. "So nice to meet ya. You must be Parker, yes?" The way he says my name is so strange, but I sort of like it. He doesn't fully pronounce the r's, so it sounds like Pah-kuh.

"Yes," I say softly. "Um—"

"Oh, right, right," he says quickly. "You 'ave no idea why yer 'ere, do ya?"

"Not a clue."

He grins. "We're the ones you've been waitin' for, darlin'."

I'd sort of suspected as much, but actually standing here with them is enthralling. But there are only five of them, including Silence. "This… this is it?"

"Ah—no," he says, "no, definitely not. We're still missin' Cutfroat."

"Cutthroat?"

"Yep," Legacy chirps. "Nasty little bugger, 'e is, but damn useful all the same, ain't that right?" He looks to the others for support, and they all nod. Except for the Aero. She just glares. "Jus' one fing," he says, and, again, I'm thrown by his accent again. The th sound becomes an f sound. I smile, only because the accent is more than a little amusing. Cutthroat sounds much less intimidating when it's pronounced Cutfroat. "Just—don't judge a book by its cover, a'right?"

"Sure," I say slowly.

"Ah," Legacy says, glancing skyward just as a loud, high buzzing fills the air. "'e's 'ere."

I follow Legacy's eyes and am completely stunned, once again, when a small, remote-controlled helicopter comes zooming in, propeller whirling. It's maybe three feet long, total, and it transforms in midair, dropping down until the Aero catches it.

It's still tiny, no taller than three feet, standing. That's Cutthroat?

He glares at me, the blades on his back still whirring. I swallow and take a step back, and Legacy laughs.

"Is this everyone?"

"This is everyone who's comin'," he says, nodding. "There's more o' us, but not everyone wan'ed ta risk bein' caught, y'know?"

"Right."

"Let's start, shall we? Ah'll do the introductions," he sings brightly. "You a'ready know Silence, and you know Ah'm Legacy. Let's start wif Cutfroat."

"Okay," I say softly.

"Oy! Cutfroat! Pay attention!"

Cutthroat, who seems to be in a perpetual state of motion, moving as fast as his helicopter blades, snaps his attention to us.

"This is Parker," Legacy says. "Come down 'ere an' meet 'er."

Cutthroat leaps down from the Aero's hand and scales Legacy's body. He walks on two skinny legs, which end in something like claws. Two scrawny arms keep him balanced, and his tiny red eyes are set in a small, jittery-looking face.

"Hello," he says in a small, froglike voice. It's so absurd that I almost want to laugh.

"Hi," I say softly.

"Cutfroat's a flyboy," Legacy says proudly. "Special ops an' whatnot. 'e gets inta small places where none o' us can really get to. Bloody useful."

Cutthroat puffs up proudly before Legacy shakes him off. He motions the tiger-bot forward. "This 'ere's Whiplash." Whiplash growls lowly at me, flexing his claws. I swallow. Legacy motions at the bright blue female, who had been the Cobra. "This's Allure."

"Hello," she says, stepping forward and crouching down on one knee in front of me. "I've heard a lot about you."

"From who?"

"Word gets around," she says. There's something about her—she just doesn't seem the Decepticon type. The Aero, on the other hand—

"An' she," Legacy says in a dreamlike voice, motioning at said Aero, "she is Fishtail."

Fishtail steps forward as Allure falls back. She stoops down to my level, glancing me up and down, then gives a snort.

"This is Megatron's little pet?" She spits. She looks repulsed, and I glare at her.

"Enough, Fishtail," Allure growls. I take back what I said about her not seeming like a Decepticon. Her voice is suddenly terrifying. Fishtail gives me a disdainful sniff before backing off to stand with the others. I take them all in—an old Impala, an old Cobra, an RC helicopter, a sexy British Ducati, an ATV, and a stunning, bitchy Aero.

"A'right," Legacy says, clapping his human hands together and making me jump. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Yes," says Fishtail. "Let's. You wanted to meet us, fleshling, and here we are. What, pray tell, do you plan to do with the information you have regarding us?"

"I don't know." Fishtail snorts, throwing her hands up as if to say, See? I told you so. I glare at her. "I have a few questions, actually," I say stiffly.

"Shoot," says Cutthroat. I swallow nervously.

"Okay," I say, steeling myself. I glance up at Silence, suddenly nervous, and he gives me a small nod. "You—you're all Decepticons?"

"Wow," Fishtail drawls, "and here I thought I was dealing with a stupid, hairless ape. Wonderful observation. Tell me, did the decals give us away? Or was it the red eyes?"

Okay. She's seriously starting to piss me off. Legacy snickers, and Fishtail shoots him a dark look.

"What I mean," I drawl angrily, "is are you all entirely loyal to the Decepticons?" No sense in beating around the bush. I notice that they all shift awkwardly—all except for Fishtail, who is staring me down, challenge in her eyes. "Or are you like Silence said you were?"

Allure shrugs. "We're caught in the middle, I suppose," she says gently.

"Then why are you on the Decepticons' side?"

Allure sighs softly, sitting down. "What you need to understand," she says slowly, "is that we are not all made to be soldiers."

"What do you mean?"

"She means," Legacy pipes up, "that we didn' exactly jump at the chance to enlist for the Decepticons."

"I don't understand."

"You may want to take a seat," Cutthroat croaks. "This is a long story."

"Wait," Fishtail says. "I don't know about this. We don't even know her! She is Megatron's pet. Who is to say she isn't a spy?"

Silence speaks up in Cybertronian. "Exactly," Allure says, nodding. "She is defiant of Laserbeak, Fishtail. Who do you think she'll tell? She is one of us."

Fishtail snorts delicately. "I don't trust her."

"They why are you here?" Allure demands, flexing her fingers. "No one forced you to be here, Fishtail. You can leave."

"I have to be here," she mutters lowly. "You know that."

"Then be silent," Allure snarls before turning to me. "Can we trust you, Parker Rook?"

"Can I trust you, Allure?"

Her eyes are calculating as she scans me up and down. Silence nods his approval, and Allure smirks slightly. "We shall see."

NOTE: Just for your reference, in case you want to look up the cars/get confused on who's who:

Legacy – Black Ducati 999
Fishtail - SSC Ultimate Aero (white)
Allure – Shelby Cobra (elevtric blue, white racing stripes)
Whiplash – Yamaha Grizzly (Camouflage)
Silence - Black 1967 Chevy Impala