The Decepticon flyer lazily swirled his energon around in its cube, watching the iridescent colors mix and clash. After watching it for a few moments, he downed the rest of the cube and set the empty receptacle on the table in front of him. The blue and gray Seeker kicked his feet up onto the table and leaned back. Maybe a quick shutdown was in order. . . .

Unfortunately, the door hissed open at that moment and spoiled the indolent Decepticon's plans of a nap. Another Seeker, sharing the same general appearance but decorated in a far different color scheme, strode through the opening and crossed his arms in a display of displeasure.

"Now, Skystorm, do you mind telling me why you're here having a cube of energon when you should be helping Thundercracker check the perimeter alarms?" Starscream asked in mock annoyance.

Skystorm smiled and reached down behind him, producing two more cubes of energon and offering one to Starscream.

"Already finished. 'Cracker and I found a faster way of checking the alarms than going down there and rooting through the internals of each one."

"Oh?" Starscream said with a smile. He accepted the proffered energon cube and sat down across from Skystorm. "How did you manage to do that?"

"Easy. We rigged our guns to fire low-power shots and sorta singed each of them. When it went off, we knew it was fine and beamed a 'false alarm' code to base. When it didn't, we just called someone to go and fix it," the blue and gray Seeker said matter-of-factly.

"Ah, so that explains why Nightwatch was complaining about so many false alarms."

"Exactly. We finished about ten breem early, so I just popped down here for a drink before my next patrol shift."

"Heh. Well, we've got some time left before the next run, so a quick drink wouldn't hurt."

"Seconded." Skystorm raised his cube. "To better times, Screamer."

Starscream smiled and lightly tapped Skystorm's energon cube with his own. "To better times, 'Storm."

Starscream leaned back and studied the map mounted on the wall with a note of worry. We have so much to do, and far fewer warriors available than I would like. Our odds are about twelve to one, against. We barely number in the hundreds. The Autobots have thousands upon thousands . . . how are we ever going to win this war?

"So, Starscream, how does it look to you?" Megatron asked, breaking into Starscream's dour thinking. The Decepticon leader gestured at the map on the wall. Two sets of Decepticon insignias were poised to attack a large number of Autobot symbols surrounding a large building.

"It's a fair plan, mighty Megatron," Starscream said, a grin covering his anxiety. "The captured energon should last us at least a few more vorns."

"Did I fail to warn you about calling me 'mighty Megatron' the last time, Starscream?" Megatron said, returning Starscream's smile. "If you call me that again, I'll have you polishing the entire base. Twice."

"Well, then, mighty Megatron, I just guess you'll have to warn me again."

Megatron chuckled quietly. "I'll have to warn you at another time, Starscream. Gather your wingmates. We have energon to liberate."

Primus, I love this job, Skystorm thought to himself. There were many flyers in the Decepticon ranks, but he was one of the few who loved perimeter patrolling. The ground so far below . . . and I can see everything to the horizon. . . . Skystorm waved his swept-back wings and did a lazy barrel roll for the sheer hell of it. His frame pulled at whatever Cybertron had in the way of air and he soon leveled out.

His design was somewhat . . . unusual. Rather than transforming into a large flying pyramid, as his fellow Seekers did, Skystorm's transformed mode could best be described as a large, squat arrow, rather like a crossbow bolt. The canards on the front of his flattened nosecone and the wide, swept-back wings granted him an unusually high level of agility. He pulled in low and skimmed low over the ground at hundreds of miles per hour. Pushing himself back up into the sky, Skystorm looped around in an Immelman turn, followed it with a split-S, and finished his little aerial display with a 'cobra.' Just as he prepared to do another series of stunts, his communicator beeped loudly, and Starscream's voice sounded over the line.

"Nice little display, Skystorm; unfortunately, I don't think anyone was paying attention."

"Nah, it doesn't matter. I just wanted to see if I could do anything like that." The blue fighter lifted a little and dropped back down, the flying equivalent of a shrug. "I guess I can."

"Well, I really hate to interrupt your fun - and your patrol - but Megatron has requested our presence. I already collected Skywarp and Thundercracker, so no excuses. Return to base."

"Oh, all right," Skystorm said, and set down next to his wing commander. In a moment, Skystorm transformed, his entire frame folding and unfolding to produce arms and legs. Starscream smiled and ushered the other Seeker inside.

"I must admit, your flying is impressive, but next time, finish the patrol first. . . ."

"Decepticons, our latest mission is one of vital importance. Due to a leak in Autobot communications, we have learned of a storage bunker where some of the Autobot's reserve supplies are held. Our plan is to liberate these supplies for our own use."

Megatron looked over the faces of his selected troops. On one side, his Seeker group, comprised of Starscream and his wingmen, stood facing him. Skystorm, the . . . independent Seeker of the group, was checking his arm blasters rather than listening. Though the blue and gray Decepticon's inattentiveness was mildly annoying, Megatron had lost count of the number of times the warrior had pulled through for him. His other group, comprised of the Reflectors and a few other individuals, was at attention, though they looked a little less unified.

"Starscream," Megatron said, nodding in the Seeker's direction. "Your wing will fly in over the south, to draw away any of the Autobots that will undoubtedly be defending the bunker. Assign tasks to your forces as you see fit."

With that, he turned to his group and started issuing orders by internal radio. Starscream nodded and proceeded to do the same with his wingmen, talking to each, one by one, over their internal communication systems. They had adopted this tactic long ago, to minimize collateral damage should one of their warriors be captured.

«Skywarp, Thundercracker,» Starscream said silently. The two named looked over at their wing leader. «We fly to the target in V formation. When we get there, we will draw attention away from Megatron so he can grab the supplies. If this we do this correctly, we'll have enough energon to keep us going for a while.»

«What about us?» Dirge radioed, gesturing to his coneheaded brothers.

«Fly as close support. Shoot to destroy, but focus on keeping yourselves intact. Anything else?»

In reply, Dirge thumbed at Skystorm, who had taken one of his guns off his arm and was busily rewiring it.

«Skystorm,» Starscream signaled. The blue Seeker seemed to ignore him, seemingly more focused on reattaching his gun to his arm than paying attention to his commanding officer. «Skystorm,» Starscream signaled again. Again, there was no answer from the preoccupied Seeker.

By now, Skywarp realized that his errant wingmate was not responding to any hails. Again. Reaching over to the blue and gray flyer, he gave Skystorm a fairly forceful smack on the back of the head. That got the Seeker's attention and not a little bit of his ire.

"What was that for?!" he snarled, raising a fist in Skywarp's direction. The sudden outburst of noise in what had been a completely silent briefing room grabbed everyone's attention and brought a dozen heads looking over in his direction. Skystorm was suddenly aware of everyone looking at him.

"What?" he asked. Skywarp jerked a thumb at Starscream, who was wearing a slightly resigned expression. "Oh," Skystorm said, hooking into the internal communications.

«Sorry about that,» Skystorm radioed sheepishly. Starscream sighed.

«Don't worry about it. Your assignment for this mission is simply being the chaos factor. After we drop on the bunker, I want you to create as much confusion as possible.»

«Bunker?»

«We're going on a supply raid. Just follow us and cause a Pitload of disorder when we get there.»

«Disorder. Gotta love it.»

If any Transformers in Decalatron had looked up into the sky at midnight, they would have seen a wide V of pyramid jets soar above them, followed by an arrow-shaped interceptor flying erratically.

The point of the V, Starscream, pulled his triangle nose up, gaining altitude in an attempt to get better line of sight to Cybertron below. A light blue pyramid fighter and its black-and-purple brother flew close to the lead.

"Anything?" Thundercracker asked.

"Not much," Skywarp replied, checking his radar once again. "I'm getting readings from the 'Bot radar towers. We're clear, though."

"Make sure they're not reading us . . . yet," Starscream said.

"Hey, guys, what's the word?" a voice blared, followed by the blue arrow interceptor breaking up the formation. Skywarp and Thundercracker peeled away suddenly, dodging the jetwash from the intruder.

"We were running somewhat silent," Thundercracker said.

"Right up until about six seconds ago," Skywarp quipped.

"Skystorm, could you please return to formation? We're starting to present a larger profile to radar," Starscream said.

"Oh. Okay," the offbeat Decepticon chirped, returning to his place in the formation off to Dirge's left. After a few moments of silence, Skystorm piped up again. "So, who thinks they can buzz the most Autobots?"

Nobody was really paying attention to Skystorm, their attention more focused on their radar. Slowly, a wide, flat building off in the distance started to come into view.

"Okay, everyone remembers their assignments, right?" Starscream asked one more time.

"Yeah."

"Affirmative."

"Right."

"Very well," Starscream said, pulling up even higher. "Get ready. . . ."

"DECEPTICONS, ATTACK!" Megatron yelled over the communication links.

With that, the seven-craft wing of Decepticons dived to strike at their foes below. . . .

"Split up!"

"Watch your left!"

"Dirge, pull to the right, he's locking on!"

The noise of battle swirled around Skystorm like a vortex of sound, threatening to distract him and pull his mind away when he needed to concentrate the most.

Come on, concentrate! This is no time to look around, Skystorm yelled to himself. Now focus. Screamer said to cause a Pitload of chaos. . . . No better way than this. He threw himself at a knot of Autobots and swooped low, right over their heads.

"Hello everyone!" he said, almost painfully cheerful. "Catch me if you can!"

"Hey, what?!" an Autobot yelled. He raised his gun and pointed it in Skystorm's direction. "Get him!"

The instant the Autobot raised his rifle to the sky, he found that the irritating blue aircraft was no longer there. It had passed over his head in a blazing hairpin turn and was quickly disappearing into the distance.

"Come on!" Skystorm crowed. "I've seen Empties that move faster than that!"

The insult elicited an enraged snarl from the Autobot. A virtual wall of flak rose up to try and claim the flyer's life, but a hasty and halfway insane rolling dive just managed to save the arrow-fighter. Skystorm pulled up in a hard climb and circled away.

"I said catch me, not shoot me," the Decepticon said cockily. The cobalt fightercraft folded in half at the middle, its wings rotated on an axis, and limbs emerged from its frame. Now, the Seeker had an arrogant grin to match the tone in his voice. "I guess you don't get the concept of a 'no guns' game, am I right?"

By now, the Autobots on the ground were quite angry and also extremely determined to blast this overconfident blue idiot into metal confetti. Their fire rate increased, and more lasers, bullets, and rockets ripped the sky apart, trying to find their target.

Again, irritatingly, the Decepticon rebel had vanished. Skystorm hovered behind a building where he had taken cover, avoiding most of the fire. One laser beam had burned a long gash along the inside of his leg, but it was shallow, only carving away at armor. He regarded it for a moment and called out to his pursuers.

"You know, I've got to admit, you guys are lousy shots. Except for one of you. I don't know whom I should thank, but my leg is gonna sting like the Pit for the next day or so."

Skystorm hovered in place and quickly rewired a few components in his arm blasters in preparation for the completely insane act he was about to commit. He hovered a foot off the ground and inched his way to the edge of the building. Popping out from the side, he leveled both arm cannons at his foes. "So let me return the favor."

Most of the Autobot squad had been expecting the Decepticon to appear over the top of the building, so they did not expect to take hits from ground level. Skystorm's arm cannons, thanks to his hasty field modification job, sprayed a shotgun-like blast of laser energy rather than the coherent beam most lasers shot. The wide spray of lasers peppered the Autobot squad, leaving no untouched Transformer in their wake. Unfortunately, it also spread out the damage to such a degree that each individual shot did only enough damage to blacken armor. This still left the odds in the Autobots' favor.

Enough chaos, time to get moving, Skystorm thought. He lit his leg jets and moved for more cover. Autobot gunfire chased him the entire time. And this was in my function description where? I am going to have to ask for a jet upgrade next time I see Megatron if they expect me to keep this up.

Skystorm zipped behind a building in time to avoid most of another barrage, escaping with only a blast burn on his forearm. He regarded the injury without a second thought and focused on avoiding the Autobots that would be charging around the corner at some point in the very near future.

"Dirge, Ramjet, Thrust, your presence would be very much appreciated right about yesterday."

"Skystorm, Dirge. We're a little tied up at the moment." The sound of blaster fire crackled over the comm. "Can you hold on half a breem?"

A laser beam ripped by Skystorm's head, giving him all the more reason to keep flying and dodging. "I don't think I have half a breem, Dirge. Nobody else open?"

"Sorry."

Skystorm sighed and barely avoided the rocket aimed for the back of his head. The pack of Autobots were not going to run out of ammo anytime soon. . . .

"A little help couldn't hurt. . . ."

"I can't even offer that."

"Scrag."

"Dirge, Skystorm, this is Thrust. I've got a moment. Where do you need me, 'Storm?"

Skystorm opened his mouth to supply the coordinates when a raspy voice called over the wide-band frequency.

"Megatron to Decepticons, we have what we came for! Fall back!"

"Disregard," Skystorm said, taking off into the sky. The squad of Autobots had not given up yet, and they still fired salvo after salvo of lasers and missiles at the annoying Seeker. Clawing his way into the air, Skystorm intercepted Starscream just as the latter was about to leave.

"Nothing like a full blown battle to clear the head, eh, Screamer?"

"Nothing like a full blown battle to lose the head, Skystorm. Let's leave!"

Starscream ignited his leg jets and took off in the direction of the Decepticon forward base. Skystorm did likewise, and was soon in hot pursuit of his wing commander. The flak was murderous, and it was all Skystorm could do to keep up with Starscream.

Radar locks everywhere. Missile lock warning. Radar lock warning. Infrared lock warning. Radar jammer out, heat signature dampers out. Great, this day just keeps getting better and better. . . .

Skystorm's internal alarms blared as an Autobot locked on to him and fired a pair of surface to air missiles. Skystorm pulled up abruptly and cut back his leg jets. The missiles, which were apparently radar guided, could not stand such abrupt turnarounds and bobbed crazily in search of another target. The first darted off in directions unknown, while the second overshot Skystorm by a large margin.

Yeah, I don't even want to know where they went. Radar lock again? And why is it sweeping me? And who's got the radar? Keen optics swept the chaotic ground below, and Skystorm found his answer on the roof of a building. Him. At the SAM emplacement. But his angle's too wide. A lick of flame on the roof announced the missile's launch. That missile's not meant for me. Then . . . who. . . .

The sudden realization struck, and Skystorm pushed his leg jets to their limits.

"Screamer, watch it! Missile on your six!"

The other Seeker didn't respond, but started dodging, pushing his speeds past Mach 2 in order to shake the terribly persistent killer.

"Skystorm, give me a hand! Get this thing off me!" Starscream yelled.

Options raced at lightning speed through Skystorm's mind, and the only one that had the slimmest possibility of working. . . .

"Screamer, this is crazy, but fly really straight for a second!" Skystorm yelled, ripping his guns from his arms and busily rearranging the internals.

"What?! That's crazy!"

"That's what I thought, but I think this might work!"

Skystorm tuned out everything, the alarms, the warnings, the roars of engines and the trill of lasers. Primus, grant me the stability to make this count . . . Skystorm thought to himself. He pointed both lasers at the flare of light ahead of him and prayed.

The missile exploded in a brilliant nova of orange and yellow, lighting up the Cybertronian night for a moment. Skystorm blazed through the cloud of fire and emerged only mildly scorched on the other side.

Where's Screamer? Don't tell me I hit him instead. . . .

Skystorm scanned the area around him, looking for his commander. A sooty, slightly blackened triangle fighter swooped down to meet him.

"Thanks, 'Storm. I owe you one," Starscream said, relief and thankfulness washing his voice.

"Don't mention it. Now, what do you say we g-AAAAGH!" Skystorm yelped. The tailings of the laser that punched through his leg dissipated into the darkness. The fuel line leading to his leg jet simply ceased to exist, and Skystorm found himself with a gaping hole in his thigh and his flight power cut in half.

"SKYSTORM!" Starscream shouted, transforming back into robot mode and making a futile grab for his friend. Skystorm was already falling into a flat spiral, and if the movement on the ground was any indication, the Autobots sensed wounded prey, and were drawing to Skystorm like sharks to blood.

"Screamer . . . help. . . ." Skystorm rasped. The energon leak was getting severe, and he had realized a while back that he was no longer moving upwards. There was no more sound, and now, his mind tuned out everything . . . even itself.

Starscream dove to try and pull his doomed comrade back up, but the wall of flak kept him at bay. As Skystorm slowly started drifting to the ground, the SAM battery cranked up to meet him, to Starscream's horror.

"NO!" Starscream screamed. The missile battery unleashed a quartet of missiles, all aimed for the falling Skystorm. Starscream could only watch as the four anti-air missiles reached his fallen wingmate.

In what seemed like an eternal display of light and sound, the entirety of the Cybertronian night lit up, and sound of the blast echoed from the cold metallic surface of the night. A roiling death blossom of fire silhouetted Skystorm's form and overwhelmed the distant winged figure.

"No," Starscream whispered quietly. As the first tendrils of flame started to fade away, all he could see were a few drifting shards of charred metal. For a moment, it briefly crossed Starscream's mind to go look for any remains, but common sense and increased warning tones drove him away. No, Starscream thought sadly, not even Skystorm could have survived such carnage . . . losing someone hurts, but the part I absolutely hate most. . . .

"Starscream to Megatron. . . ."

The first thing Skystorm realized when he came to was that his leg and back hurt. Badly.

Ow . . . my leg's killing me . . . and my back is an accomplice in murder, Skystorm thought offhandedly. Levering himself onto an arm, he found that his locale, such as it was, was most definitely not the streets of Decalacron where he had crashed. And a Pit of a crash that was. . . .

Looking around, Skystorm realized where he was. Detention center somewhere. Great. He painfully pulled himself to a sitting position and looked at the imposing steel door, and the symbol etched therein. An Autobot detention center. Terrific, just terrific.

All the stories about Autobot prisoners. Torture. Cruelty. Barbaric conditions. Primus knows what else. And in the end, everyone dies. Just great. Skystorm winced as he shifted his weight and called up diagnostics. Oh, scrag, how in the name of Primus did I survive all that? I have more empty space than transforming actuators on my back, and my leg can barely support my weight right now. Maybe a couple of cycles of auto-repair could give me enough stability to run for a while, but aside from that. . . .

He shrugged, and noticed that there was less weight pulling down on his arms. That was when he realized that his lasers were gone, either torn off in the explosion or taken off by his captors.

And unarmed, too. Oh, joy. How could this get any worse . . . wait, I don't even want to know. . . .

"And why are we keeping this half-destroyed Decepticon?" Prowl asked disinterestedly.

Smokescreen smiled at him from across the desk. "I believe that he may prove . . . useful . . . for informational purposes. In the past, Seekers have proven to be valuable sources of information."

"And what makes you so sure that this one knows anything of value to us?" Prowl said, standing up and crossing his arms.

"Are you willing to sacrifice a chance for an advantage?" Smokescreen returned with an enigmatic smile.

For the longest time, Prowl tried to read the intentions in the other Autobot's optics. What does he want? He is a master in warfare of the mind . . . he must want to hone his skills at his mind games on the Decepticon. Well, reports from the battle indicate that this Seeker is a little . . . unhinged. Prowl smiled. Let us see how Smokescreen can handle a challenge. . . .

"Very well, Smokescreen, you have my permission to interrogate this Decepticon. Learn what you can from him."

"Thank you, commander." An evil grin lit up Smokescreen's features, and he chuckled quietly to the world in general. "I hope you will appreciate the results. . . ."

Skystorm's mind was off wandering when the door swung open and Smokescreen walked into the room. The red and blue Autobot regarded the battered Seeker with marked interest. The Decepticon, on the other hand, was completely lost in thought and hadn't realized that Smokescreen was in the cell.

"Decepticon," Smokescreen said calmly. Skystorm sat still, optics distant. Smokescreen looked slightly confused, and tried again. "Decepticon." Again, there was no answer from the Seeker. By now, Smokescreen had seen enough to make the most basic assumptions.

Prowl has just pulled a fast one on me. He knew there was something wrong with this one and didn't warn me. Forget interrogation. It's time to have a little fun messing up this dipswitch's mind a little bit more.

Smokescreen cleared his throat and put on an impressive scowl. "DECEPTICON!"

The Seeker slowly, mechanically turned his head and looked up in the Autobot's direction.

"You don't have to yell. I'm right here," the Decepticon said with a lopsided grin.

"Judging by your first reactions to me, most other mechs would doubt that."

"My first reaction to you was a smile."

"Shut up."

"Shutting up."

"Now, tell me what I want to know, and your miserable life will be spared."

Silence.

"Where is Decepticon HQ?"

Silence.

"Tell me: where are the headquarters of the Decepticon rebels?"

Silence.

"So, holding out, eh?"

"No, it's just that you told me to shut up, so-"

"Rrrgh. Forget it. Now, do you tell me what I want to know, or do I send you to Execution for recycling?"

"Better a quick death than betraying my comrades."

"Hmm? So that's how it is. Well, I have to inform the commander, then. Until then, consider this. You are intact. Why haven't your comrades come for you?"

"Easy. I'm in a detention center in the middle of one of your most heavily fortified cities that is quite possibly in the middle of a very large base that is obviously well-defended. They'd have to be crazy."

"But what about their vow to never leave a fallen comrade in battle?"

"Fallen. Not doomed."

"And you admit it yourself."

Skystorm gave the Autobot a grin. "Ignorance is bliss. Just not for me."

"The stupid die young."

"The good die young."

This time, Smokescreen smiled. "Then may you live long, Decepticon."

"So, Smokescreen, how was the first interrogation session?"

"Most interesting, commander. He is . . . unique among the subjects I have seen."

"What makes you say that?"

"He attempted to engage me in a battle of wits."

"A one-sided contest at best, I would assume."

"Often times, yes. This one, however, has already given up on himself, and is, oddly enough, happy."

Happy? An unusual word to hear in these days. Especially from a Decepticon."

"Still, I intend to glean as much information as I can from this one. After that . . ." Smokescreen shrugged.

"We'll find something to do with the wreckage," Prowl said calmly.

Skystorm sat on the small cot, unmoving and silent. His mind swirled with thoughts and considerations.

I am alone. One injured Decepticon in the middle of an Autobot base, who will, quitelikely, die a very painful death at the end of this. And for what? Well, the others scored some energon and maybe some other supplies. A vorn's worth of energon for one life. Nice trade.

Well, Screamer, you still owe me one. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. I have no idea how to collect, though. Shame. I hate having people owe me.

The next day, Smokescreen tromped in and found Skystorm spaced out, again.

"Meditating?" Smokescreen asked nastily.

"Nah. Bored. I just let my mind wander."

"Don't. It's too small to be out on its own."

Skystorm smiled. "You'd make a great comedian."

"But that's not why I'm here."

"Nah, you're not here to entertain. I am."

"No, you're here because we think that your miserable existence should be validated in some way. Since you're not cooperating on releasing Decepticon base sites, I'll ask about things that you shouldn't feel too bad about giving up."

"Oh? Like?"

"Your name, first of all. I actually prefer to say people's names than 'Hey, you,' or 'Decepticon.'"

"Well, it can't hurt I guess." Skystorm glanced out of the corner of his optics and gave a ghost of a grin. "Skystorm. You?"

"Smokescreen."

"Well then, I guess I could say nice to meet you. You're more interesting than a lot of the guys back at base."

"Spare me," Smokescreen sneered, rolling his optics. "I don't want to know just how uninteresting Decepticons can be. I've talked to enough that I've tuned out the rebel propaganda and hatred of Autobots."

"Nah, I'm not like that. I'm a 'Con because it was a 'Bot bombing raid that blew up my city and my apartment. I liked that apartment. It was nice, big, and most of all, affordable on a security guard's salary."

"What, no avenging deaths or moral causes?"

"Nope. You 'Bots blew up my place. And my stuff. And a lot of innocent mechs. But everyone I knew made it out fine, if a little beat up, and I understand how you could want to keep tabs on the whole planet and universe. Just that I don't think anyone could do it."

"Watch your mouth. Talking too much can get you scrapped."

A shrug.

"I'm in the middle of an Autobot base, surrounded by guards who would just as soon shoot me as look at me. I get to spend most of the day in a recharging berth or thinking, and only a couple most interesting breem a day talking to you. If I don't go crazy, you'll get bored one day and off me. Plain and simple."

"For a Decepticon, you are extremely sensible."

"For an Autobot, you're extremely honest."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be."

"That was sarcasm."

"Ditto."

"You are extremely brave for one in your situation."

"No, I'm just extremely crazy."

"One could see that."

"I'm a lone, damaged Decepticon mouthing off to an Autobot interrogator who's wearing guns on the sides of his head. I'm certifiable."

"I can see why the Decepticons just abandoned you. You're insane."

"No, just crazy."

"Still."

"No, insane would be trying to attack you even though I'm busted. Crazy is running my vocalizer off in your presence."

"I see."

"No, you don't. This place is the ultimate in neutrality."

"Oh? How so?"

"Alive, back at base, I'm a Decepticon warrior. I can go, do warrior stuff. Dead, well, I'd like to think I make a nice martyr, but at least you guys would be happy not to have a crazy Decepticon in your base. Alive and here, I can't do anything for anyone, and that just leaves me nothing for nobody."

"Okay. Look, I have other duties to attend to, so I'm calling it a day. Just let me ask you this. The Decepticons can't do anything for you now. Why didn't they do anything for you in the first place?"

Smokescreen left, and Skystorm found himself alone with his thoughts. Well, Skystorm, you did it. Conspiring with the enemy. Big whoop. You're dead to the 'Cons and you know it. But in the end, you were . . . expendable, I guess. A lot of 'Cons are. Really, they'd need Megs, Screamer, and Soundwave to keep command. You're just a warrior. Just a warrior. Yeah, just like Crosscut, Overcharge, and all the others that went before you. Who remembers then now? You. Maybe a couple of the others. Joy. Three mechs who remember them. Who'll remember you?

Smokescreen had made it a point to see what his subject was up to each day, and most of the time their conversations were rather . . . interesting, in a sense. Today, though, the Seeker seemed a little more on edge, a little more hostile.

"You know," Skystorm started, "these conversations would be a little more fun if you didn't keep reminding me that I'm left for dead."

"You keep mentioning it."

"Yeah, tough. It's what's been on my mind for the last couple of days."

"Figured. They abandon you, then you turn vicious."

"I can give you vicious."

"Don't even try it."

"I'm not stupid."

"Then what are you?"

"A little mad, a little sad, and a whole heaping lot of crazy."

"Mad? That's a first from you."

"I've got every right to be mad. I should be dead or back at base and I'm here. I'm bored out of my mind, and lately, you've just been doing every wrong in the book of 'How Not to Anger Decepticons.'"

"It apparently doesn't take a lot to anger you."

"It varies. Today, I'm just not feeling too friendly to anything in particular."

"Like whom?"

"You, the rest of the Autobots, Megatron, and Starscream."

"An interesting list."

"You have been doing one Pit of a job of keeping up with me, but you're starting to get annoying. Autobots are Autobots. Megatron's plan got me into this, and Starscream jetted after I got shot."

"Left behind."

"Don't I know it. Stopping to talk in the middle of a retreat."

"Not bright at all. From what I hear, Starscream kept you back."

"No, I just saved his hide from getting vaped by a missile. He wouldn't have made it if I hadn't taken it out."

"You saved his life, so now, he owes you."

"Big."

"So, you were shot down. Why didn't he try and save you?"

"I don't know. Impossible odds?"

"According to our SAM site, the odds of you destroying our missile were next to none. You chose to fight impossible odds to save your friend. Why didn't he do the same for you?"

I don't know. I don't care."

"Do you really care, or not?"

"Right now, I'm not even being rational. For your safety, I recommend you leave before I want to vent. I don't need 'assaulting an interrogator' added to my list of 'Crazy Stuff That's Gotten Me in Trouble.'"

Smokescreen smiled a twisted, cold smile and said nothing as he left.

Prowl raised an optic ridge.

"Repeat that again, Smokescreen. Maybe my audios are malfunctioning slightly. You want to do what with this Decepticon?"

"I want to enlist Code Red's aid in turning this Decepticon over to our side."

"Why do we want this half-crazed mechanoid fighting for us?"

"He may be a useful combat resource, and, his knowledge of our foes may prove useful."

"Why not extract this information and be done with him?"

"There is his skill. I read the reports. His maneuverability, agility, and natural ability to use weapons are great assets. There was also the case of his arm laser we recovered. Battered as it was, we had it analyzed. The reports said that the insides had been rewired so often, there was no indicator of what was the original configuration. This 'half-crazed mechanoid' may be a natural weapons expert."

"You still have not convinced me."

"Then consider this. We can kill him. This would, indeed, cost us very little. But, if we take a little extra effort and rebuild him. . . ."

"Rebuild?"

"He is not seriously damaged in any way, and all of the basics are there. Just . . . change the exterior."

"It would still cost some resources to alter him enough to not raise suspicion."

"What are the odds we might find a recruit as skilled as this one?"

Prowl regarded the Autobot for a short moment, weighing the options.

I do not know if I should take him up on this offer. It has many risks. And many benefits, as well. Should I accept? If this fails, I do not want it coming back to haunt me. There are no loose ends. Smokescreen can keep quiet. Code Red . . . well, that's a stupid question. He rarely talks, so silence is not a question. And I'm sure Overhaul and Retrofit can be convinced to . . . stay silent. And there seeing as are no other loose ends. . . .

"You may do this, Smokescreen. Just make sure that any backlash is quickly quelled. I will not have this project associated with me."

"Very good, then. I shall inform Code Red at once," Smokescreen said with a smile. "And this Decepticon will rue the day he wore his sigil."

"Am I understood, Code Red?"

"Yes."

"Affirmative. Now, to your duty."

Code Red said nothing and systematically searched the memory of the powered-down Decepticon. Finding the information that he needed, he quickly, expertly shuffled, rearranged, and soon, his masterpiece nestled itself in Skystorm's head.

Slumber. A time for rest, recharge, and re-energizing. A time to sleep, to die to the world, and to focus on what was and may be. A time for dreams.

Or nightmares.

Skystorm clawed his way into the sky, narrowly avoiding the next salvo of laser fire. With a howl of engines, he blasted into the Cybertronian sky, intercepting Starscream just as the latter was about to leave.

"Nothing like a full blown battle to clear the head, eh, Screamer?"

"Nothing like a full blown battle to lose the head, Skystorm, Let's leave!"

"Screamer, watch it! Missile on your six!"

"Skystorm, give me a hand! Get this thing off me!"

"Screamer, this is crazy, but fly really straight for a second!"

"What?! That's crazy!"

"That's what I thought, but I think this might work!"

"Thanks, 'Storm. I owe you one,"

"Don't mention it. Now, what do you say we g-AAAAGH!"

Starscream spiraled away, leg jets on full.

"Help me! Please!"

A shrill, gleeful cackle came from the other Seeker. "Goodbye, Skystorm!"

"No! Don't!"

The world exploded, and the last thing Skystorm could hear was a sharp, screechy chuckle.

"NO!" Skystorm yelled, optics suddenly relighting. His mind raced, and asked if it were true. Abandoned?

The pain of a leg wound. . . .

A laugh of true amusement. . . .

And that grin.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!"

A black fist arced through the air and smashed a section of the wall to scree that poured to the floor in a landslide.

"RRAGH!" Another punch, and there was another hole in the wall.

Smokescreen walked in somewhere about the 200th punch.

"Problem?"

Skystorm was silent. Then, suddenly, in a deadly whisper, he spoke.

"He betrayed me. They betrayed me. And to think I listened to them this many vorns." He spun around and cast the crumpled remains of a Decepticon insignia on the ground.

"No more. If the Decepticons want me gone so badly, they've got it." Skystorm stepped optic to optic with Smokescreen, and the dead seriousness on his face surprised Smokescreen. "I want to join the Autobots."

Smokescreen remained calm, but on the inside, he was wondering in many different planes of thought.

I think it worked. He believes . . . but such vehemence. Could we have done too well? Can he still be trusted?

"Calm down. Anger isn't going to convince my commander to let you join."

Skystorm, surprisingly, calmed down rather quickly. "What's it going to take?"

"A good reason, mostly."

"Believe me," Skystorm said, voice deadly. "I have one."

Prowl anticipated the knock on his door about a breem in advance. It's time. Not just to play along, but to make sure that this one has the fire to be one of us. . . .

"Enter."

A blue and red Autobot, followed by a battered blue and gray Seeker, walked in. Prowl scowled at the two of them, just as his part demanded.

"Smokescreen, do you have a reason to bring this Decepticon in here?"

"Yes, I do. He wants to join the Autobots."

Prowl stood and crossed his arms. "We are not some small-time club that you join to have fun. Give me a good reason to allow you to join."

Skystorm's optics blazed crimson with fury. "I was one of their warriors. In my most recent mission, I was shot down and left behind. My fellow Decepticons refused to aid me, and completely betrayed the trust I put in them. If they won't have me . . . maybe you will."

Prowl coolly regarded the Seeker for a moment.

"You realize that if you join, you must make some sacrifices?"

"What do I have to lose?"

"Are you willing to be rebuilt to hide your true identity?"

"Yes."

"Assume a new face? A new voice? A new life?"

"Yes."

"Are you willing to fight and, if need be, die for the glory of the Autobot cause?"

"Yes."

"Then we have a deal. An old life for a new life."

Overhaul and Retrofit had their work cut out for them, but five days of stopgap work had succeeded in creating a body from the ex-Decepticon's parts. The intricacy of the head module, however, eluded them. This required skill. Expert skill.

"Could you help us?"

"Help you accomplish what task, Overhaul?"

"Umm . . . this."

"It is considered rather rude to bring decapitated Seeker heads into other Autobot's work places."

"No, he's still functioning, but we can't get the helmet to come off."

A brief pause.

"An interesting challenge. You wish to remove most of the head casing?"

"Yes."

Another pause.

"I suppose it would grant me the chance to study their internal workings further. . . . I accept."

"Thanks for the help."

"Come back to see me in a day. You will have your results by then."

"How did it go?"

"I was only partially successful. His primary head casing is removed, but I was unable to remove the faceplate."

"Leave it."

"Should I ask what you intend to do with this?"

"No. I don't think you should."

"Then I won't."

"Okay. Thanks for the help, Perceptor."

"You are most welcome."

Skystorm's optics relit after a most lengthy period of inactivity. His first thought went something along the lines of, Scrag it, can't they choose whether or not to keep me dead? One could only play ding-dong-ditch with Death so many times before he booby-trapped the doorbell. Skystorm levered himself off the table and sat up.

"By the primordial program! It lives!" a voice said in a mocking tone. Skystorm turned to look at the garish orange mech speaking to him.

"Some days, you never know," Skystorm returned with a smile.

"So . . . did it work?" another Autobot, this one shades of brown, inquired.

"He's functioning," the first replied.

"I could have told you that," Skystorm quipped.

"And how goes the operation?" Prowl asked the orange Autobot, barging in with Smokescreen close behind.

A smashing success, if I say so myself," Overhaul crowed.

Prowl actually smiled.

"So . . . how do you feel?" he asked the new Autobot.

"I just want to know how different I should feel."

"Take a look," the black and white Autobot said, gesturing at the highly reflective surface that served for the door. Skystorm stepped down off the table and walked over to the mirror-like door. He took one look and stared.

He was nothing like his previous self. His design had been so drastically altered that he couldn't even comprehend the thought that the mech reflected back at him was truly himself. He focused on a single vantage point and slowly adjusted things from there.

When you stare into another mech's optics, you might just find who they truly are. Unblinking red optics met, and he realized that his face was still very much his own. His helmet had gone from the familiar black helmet to a slimmer, twin-crested design in blue and gold. His arms retained some of their previous bulkiness, but he found it strange not to have weapons hardpoints on his upper arms. His torso design was a simpler design, without the air intakes on the sides of his head. His legs had been remolded for more ground stability, but the most noticeable difference. . . .

"Where are my wings?" Skystorm asked, disbelieving and confused.

"What?" Overhaul responded.

"My wings. Where are my wings?" Skystorm repeated, voice deadly soft.

"I authorized your rebuilding for practicality," Prowl said, "not your approval."

"So . . . you let them take my wings?" Skystorm asked. Prowl gave a single curt nod.

Skystorm uncoiled from his slightly hunched position into a full lunge with a snarl. He was well on his way into taking down the Autobot lieutenant commander when a white fist arced out and caught him squarely across the face, sending him spinning into a heap across the floor. The sound of a gun chambering ammunition filled his audios.

"Let this be a lesson. Don't ever try that again. Otherwise, I will kill you." Prowl turned to Retrofit and gave him a nod.

"The last modification." The brown robot handed Prowl a strange piece of armor. Prowl turned and tossed the angular plate into Skystorm's hands.

"This," the black and white Autobot snapped, "is your final piece of armor."

Skystorm turned it over in his hands. A facemask. He looked up at Prowl, optics filled with confusion and hate.

"What. . . ."

"When you agreed to be rebuilt, you agreed to assume your new identity. That mask is now your face. Realize this. I am now your superior, and you are no longer a Decepticon. You are an Autobot. You are not Skystorm. So who are you? What is your name, Autobot?"

Skystorm sat for an endless moment, looking up into Prowl's face, red optics brimming with hatred.

You seek to change me, make me forget what I was. You robbed me of my wings and my freedom. I am a grounded sky-warrior. You will pay for your manipulation. All of you will pay, for your treachery, for your betrayal, and may you all fear the day that the acid rain clouds roll over your heads, and the sky storms again. . . .

Skystorm slipped the mask into place, feeling the locking clamps secure it to his helmet. He got to his feet and stared his commander in the optic.

"The name." the ex-Decepticon said, mask vents blinking. He ignored how . . . cold his new voice sounded. "The name . . .

. . . is Scopeshot."