Hey all! Have you ever been attacked by a plot-bunny that never left you alone? Have you ever started a story and it crashed? Welcome to my world. This is how FoUnd (lol) was born. I hope you like, because Mirage has been pestering me about it. Leave me alone Mirage!

Forcefully Undercover

1 – Off Planet – 1

"Come, Mirage!" he heard his leader call from somewhere ahead of him. He was running as fast as his pistons allowed, not resorting to his alt while still in the city. He could hear the Decepticons behind him, who were trying to stop them from getting to the Ark. The blue and white Autobot grunted when he realized that he had to make a decision.

He was a noble—well, a former noble. He had lived the best life and had hunted turbofoxes for fun. His housing-unit had been located on a large estate on the edge of Tyger Pax, and had lived with his sire and his creator. He had been one of the leading elite, always in the know and was frequently featured in the tabloids. Single femmes bought pictures of him and fawned over them, always dreaming that maybe one day, one of them could be sparkbound to him. He was famous, he was well known, and he liked it.

But then the war started. He still held the attention at the beginning, but soon the bots that had been his fans began to forget about him as the war grew steadily and steadily worse. And when the rebel group known as the Decepticons attacked and destroyed Tyger Pax, it was forcefully knocked into him that the war was extremely serious when a red-opticed mech blasted a hole through him next to his spark chamber. He was left to die on the floor of his very own quarters, and he had time to think about how selfish he had been before he had been forced into stasis.

He had been a celebrity. Youngling mechs had looked up to him, wanted to mature into someone just like him one orbit. He had allowed it to swell his ego, and it had nearly cost him his life.

He dodged a shot fired at him from behind before twisting around and bringing out his plasma rapid-fire pistol from his subspace. He pulled the trigger and let bullets of plasma fly, and he managed to take down a couple Decepticons before he was forced to turn around and continue running.

::Mirage!:: Optimus exclaimed over a comm. channel. ::You must get to the Ark now! Do it by any means possible!::

::Sorry, Prime,:: the noble said, his digital voice sounding breathless. The light accent on his voice sounded strained. ::You will have to go on without me. I will take a smaller ship, maybe an escape pod…:: he knew the leader of the Autobots, the faction of the war he had joined, was hinting at using an accessory that had been created by Perceptor. The microscope had told him that it could change his size, shape, species, in order to make him a better spy. ::Because I am not using that Chameleon Patch! I would very much like to stay a Cybertronian, and I am not about to sprout wings and become a seeker!::

::But you must! They will kill you!::

::My electro-disruptor will do just fine, thank you,:: the spy retorted before dashing into a side alley. Quickly, he rendered himself invisible and wedged himself into an empty doorway. And then he waited, watching with anxious orange optics as the Decepticons charged into the alley, but continued on because the alley didn't possess a dead end.

Once they were gone, Mirage allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He ran a servo over his faceplates before stepping out of the doorway. He kept himself invisible and resumed running towards the Ark.

::I have lost the Decepticons, Prime,:: he announced.

::I am afraid I have grave news," Optimus said. ::We're being attacked by Decepticons here at the launch pad. We must take off now!::

::I won't be able to make it then,:: Mirage grimaced. ::Go on without me. I will find a pod and follow you. And if I cannot, I will stay with the Wreckers. You have nothing to fear, Prime. I will join up with you again, soon.::

::Good luck, Mirage,:: Optimus said sadly.

Mirage heard the subsonic boom of the Ark's engines as it started, and stopped running long enough to watch the Ark lift gracefully into the sky. He watched it until it disappeared amongst the stars. Then he looked down and he suddenly felt extremely alone. But that was to be expected, wasn't it? He had dawdled for too long, and he hadn't used the Chameleon Patch like the leader of the Autobots had ordered.

Silently, the noble shrugged off the cloaking effect and became visible, then he used his electro-disruptor to disguise himself as a Decepticon before transforming and roaring away.

He came to a stop on the other side of Iacon. He transformed and swapped his disguise for another one before entering an abandoned building. The Autobot base was no longer safe, since Iacon no longer was protected by Autobots. It would be obvious if he stayed in the base, and he would surely be captured or offlined by the opposing faction. He made his way deep into the building and took shelter in a tucked-away storage room. Staying in an abandoned building was much less risky.

The mech sat down and crossed his legs. He opened his chestplates and took the device known as the Chameleon Patch out.

Mirage looked at it critically, taking in its dull grey appearance. It didn't look like much, but it was cutting-edge technology. It was something Perceptor had been working on since he had joined the war. The Chameleon Patch was the first and only successful device in the Chameleon Project, a project that was meant to enhance the performance of the Special Ops agents. Mirage got it because it suited him and his ability to blend in, and it helped him to blend in more. But he didn't like it. He didn't like how it felt when the device manipulated his parts.

Perceptor never got to make one for Jazz or the other Special Ops agents. They had to evacuate the planet.

The Chameleon Patch was…interesting to say the least, though. Made from technology taken from the body of a dead Shifter, it kind of made the bot it was installed in the same as the endangered species of Cybertronian, though it enabled the wearer to expand or shrink in size. Mirage didn't like it also because of how Shifters gave him the creeps, for a lack of better word.

The blue and white spy settled down and closed his optics. Quickly, his recharge protocols took over and he fell into a light recharge, not trusting that his disguise would keep him safe.

The next solar-cycle, he was up and moving quickly towards the Well of AllSparks under Protihex. Several ships had been hidden there just in case somebot got left behind. It took him several joors, but he managed to reach the sacred place undetected. He picked out a pod and ditched his Decepticon disguise before entering it.

He fell into the small cockpit and landed on the seat. He strapped himself in and felt the engines ignite before he was sent into stasis. He was not in a very comfortable position, though.

There was a loud crash, and suddenly his world was spinning. Everything was dark, and he was bouncing around. Why was he bouncing around? He had just entered the pod, and now he was getting thrown around like he was in a precious stone tumbler. He didn't like it, he could feel dents forming, and a dense processorache was forming. If this continued, he would be knocked back into stasis.

Slowly, the spinning slowed until he came sliding to a stop in the bottom of the containment he had suddenly found himself in. His processor continued to swirl for a few more minutes before he was able to sit up and try to find the door. He found it eventually, when it dropped off of its hinges, allowing light to flow it.

Why the slag was the door so big? He could clearly remember that it had been small and that he had been barely able to squeeze in through. But now it was big.

By reflex, he looked down at himself, and balked in surprise. No metal greeted him, only…organic…fleshiness. Scrap, the Chameleon Patch! "It must have activated during my time in stasis," the Autobot figured out loud. And if I am in this form, those dents were not dents…but something probably more life-threatening… "I must go see a medic," he surmised.

He slowly crawled out of the pod, and as he went to slide out of the opening, a corner of the organic armor that had replaced the metal armor he had worn so proudly got caught on a piece of broken metal that jutted out from the side. It ripped, and sent him spiralling to the ground. He cried out as he hit the ground on his back. Pain raced up and down his organic backstruts and he winced, wondering how much damage the fall had caused. This form was much more delicate than his original one.

Another reason why he didn't like the Chameleon Patch. In order to blend in, it made him more vulnerable. The native, most dominant, life on this planet probably was teeny compared to the Cybertronian race, and he didn't like being small.

Slowly, he peeled himself up off of the ground, grunting and wincing as he got to his pedes. He stumbled around until he leaned up against the outside of the pod. Pain wracked his body, and he trembled. Scrap, he thought, in this condition, I will not be able to revert back to my Cybertronian form. That meant he would have to walk, and he did not know where he was.

He looked back at the pod. He hadn't brought anything of value with him that was still in the pod, but would there be any repercussions if the native people found this? He sighed. It wasn't like he'd be able to hide it or move it. He was too injured and too small to do anything. So the fleshy mech turned and walked away from the pod, going in a straight line in order to prevent himself from wasting his time going around circles. The area he had landed in was densely packed by towering organic structures.

He assumed the ruling native life looked like what the Chameleon Patch had chosen. It was one of the functions of the cursed device. Using the pod, it would have scanned for sentient life, and once it found it, it would have changed him. Hence the reason he was so small, and was quickly getting annoyed about the current organic foliage that blocked out the light from the moon overhead.

A warm liquid dripped down from his forehelm and past his right optic. He stopped and touched it, and when he pulled his servo away, he saw that it was covered in red. He cautiously stuck his glossa out and tasted it, and recoiled at the tangy metallic taste. He was leaking a substance that played a similar roll to Energon, yet it tasted nothing like it. I'm leaking. If I lose too much of this substance, I might be forced into stasis. I must find a town or something or I will be in trouble. With that in mind, he resumed his trek through the organic-ness until he came out of the forest and found himself at the edge of a large expanse of ground-up granules—a desert. It somewhat reminded him of the Sea of Rust.

But the powder-like ground underneath him was not rust. He couldn't tell what it was, since he lost the ability to use his scanners when he was forced into this disguise. But he didn't stop. He walked quickly into the desert, spotting the lights of a town on the far side.

It was deep into the lunar-cycle, he could tell, and the single moon that hung in the sky illuminated the landscape enough that he was able to dodge the rocks, and anything else that would cause him further harm.

He quickly began to feel weak as the soft boots on his pedes struggled to keep him from losing his balance on the sand. The liquid continued to leak from the cut on his forehelm, and he wondered if that was the reason he was feeling the loss of energy.

He began to worry about that, but he pushed on, ignoring how the energy was steadily seeping away. The lights grew steadily closer, and he eventually came across a hard surface that was grey in colour, and that was covered in white and yellow lines. A road, he guessed. He looked off in the direction of the lights and saw that the road seemed to lead towards them. So he stepped onto the side of it, and began to quickly walk towards the light. He smiled slightly in relief, finding that the hard surface was easier to walk on. He began to walk faster, hoping that it was bring him to the lights in time to be looked at by a medic.

The lights grew closer and closer and closer, but he felt the exhaustion quickly took over. His steps slowed and he began to stumble and wobble. Panic slowly began to set in, and he wondered if he would offline out there, alone.

But lights flooded the road from behind him and he froze. Slowly, he turned and squinted through the light as a small machine—which looked oddly like a alt-form—pulled off to the side of the road. The headlights dimmed just enough for him to see through the light and see a feminine-shaped silhouette step out of the vehicle. On the other side, a male silhouette stepped out of the vehicle, and both figures stepped towards him slowly, as if he was some sort of predator.

"He-hello?" he called weakly, his voice hoarse. Hoarse? His voice box must be on the fritz.

The feminine figure rushed over to him and gripped his shoulders. "Oh my goodness! Are you alright?" she asked.

Mirage began to shiver, and his denta began to rattle against each other. He was confused, and all he could do was look at the woman as his processor desperately tried to figure out what was going on. He was obviously suffering from something akin to Energon loss, but he couldn't understand why he was shivering. He had stood out in temperatures such as these before, and had not even felt cold.

The femme looked over at her mech companion. "Jack, we need to get him to the hospital, he's going into shock," she said. "You drive, I'll keep an eye on him."

"Okay, Mom," the mech said before disappearing back into the vehicle.

The femme slowly lead him over to the car, and he didn't have the energy to object. He was forced to lay down in the back seat of the vehicle, with his legs resting on the floor. The femme kneeled on the seat next to him, and quickly began to check him over.

Slowly, everything became hazy, and before he knew it, he had dropped off into stasis.

Legasp! Mirage has come into contact with Mrs. Darby and Jack! How will this turn out, hmmm? See ya next chapter!