If anyone had ever suggested that I would find myself here I would have laughed at them and then had them downloaded into a stasis disk.

I can't see what Optimus Prime even finds remotely interesting about this place. To my optics, there is nothing to be gained staying here on this remote and dismal world. There is much more wealth to be gained in other places, yet he lingers here . . . why?

So far, all of my reconnaissance has only made me realize that Magnus has less to worry about than he thought.

The small cobalt blue and black Transformer brushed absentmindedly at a bit of dirt that clung to his forearm, his amber gaze slowly moving over the scene unfolding in the late afternoon light. A faint wisp of smoke curled lazily up against the cold grey of another overcast day, and below him, he could see the humans going about the cleanup from the battle that had raged here a few weeks ago.

Bandit wasn't that impressed with the organic things below him, nor was he at all impressed with the planet itself. Mostly organic, low in tradeable materials, high expenditure for low gain energy resources . . . the Autobots would have done so much better if they'd just sent up a solar collector, he decided, not for the first time.

He sighed and leaned slightly on the tree next to him as he watched the humans strain to lift a large piece of pipe. Bandit wasn't as heavily built as a lot of the other Transformers, and the overhanging brim of his helmet gave him a rakish air like a mechanical brigand. He knew that since the Autobots had come to Earth, heavy equipment was very regulated, and a job that once took these organics less than a minute could stretch into hours with only the abilities their fragile bodies contained within. Leaning on the rough bark, he watched them struggle for a few minutes longer, at least glad to have something that occupied his mind.

At least Magnus paid me well for this, or I would find this completely a waste of my time. I've gathered a lot of the information he wished me to . . . and our . . . professional relationship non-withstanding, I think I've found out everything he needed to know about Optimus Prime's barely contained group of pillagers.

He blew a puff of air out of his intakes with a derisive snort.

The only ones Magnus should concern himself with are Nightwind and Prowl. Make a note to yourself to remind him to deal with those two quickly . . . or maybe they'd be more interesting. . . .

Bandit looked back down at the humans below, and with a twitch of his shoulders, reached out mentally at them a little to see how malleable they were at the same time he scanned the area out of habit. The humans were barely above animals, he quickly decided with a brief flicker of distaste as he drew back from their minds. Oddly enough, he'd found that with his probing that there was a huge fluctuation between the species. Good to know, he decided.

His golden optics suddenly flared a little behind the black mask they were recessed into.

Interesting . . . well, well . . . what's that. . . ?

Bandit gazed down at the parking lot, where a black car parked there gave off a much different reading than anything else he'd encountered for a while. The low slung Trans-Am rested there on all four tires, headlights half open, giving the impression it was watching the humans as well. There almost seemed to be a wistfulness about the vehicle, if such a term could be placed on a thing of steel and rubber. He’d nearly overlooked it even though he’d passed over it twice, the car didn’t stand among the shoddy earth vehicles. Dark black paint was scratched and dull, the only thing that made it seem as a bit different from the other cars there was the silver lightning bolt across the hood running from right to left. He studied it for a moment, dredging up what little he knew about the Transformers stationed on Earth, seeing if he found a match.

What he found actually caused him to shift position and thoughtfully rub his palm across his jaw. A last straggling autumn leaf floated down, blown off by the slight rising breeze. Without even moving his body a fraction, Bandit's hand absentmindedly flashed out and he caught the leaf between his fingertips twice before he let it fall the rest of the ground, unharmed.

A Decepticon car? Well, I probably should have realized it, what with the large purple symbol on the hood. I'll never understand what possesses them to do that. Might as well draw a target on yourself. And what's this? A female Decepticon, at that.

Hmm. Her function, according to the data-roster; courier. Not much information available on her on the system, it looks like she was just recently stationed here on Earth. She can run very fast in her humanoid mode, it says, but - that's very odd. I didn't know the Decepticons had a way to get mechanisms here from Cybertron. She's not one who crashed along with the rest of their crew. I wonder if they found a way to sneak a shuttle off planet. Doubtful. I would have known about it. Even more interesting.

He inclined his head, a faint smile on his mouth as he cast his power out again, completely passive, just attempting to see if he could get anything else on her. Decepticons on the whole were fairly easy to infiltrate with his . . . abilities. Most of them had wonderful defensive capabilities for being blasted, and they seemed terribly hard to kill; but waltzing into most of their heads was an exercise in ease. Most. I know better than to attempt it on Soundwave or Megatron. This one, a femme, and what looks like to be a new recruit. . . . A indulgent chuckle escaped him as his optics gleamed amber from within their black mask. Now, shall we see what you think like, my dear?

Bandit abruptly stood up straight, shocked to find that the courier was shielded, somehow. Not a true, hardened defense like someone trained to resist, but that her thoughts were so animal-like and chaotic that it was nearly impossible for him to understand. It was almost like her mind a was merely a blur of scents and colors and sounds, a pattern of reaction to every sensor amplified by a millionfold. His golden optics flared for a moment, and then he resettled himself against the tree, reached out again to her surface thoughts. He tried to immerse himself in the chaos, become an unnoticed part of it, to try and make sense of the random quickness of her mind. It would be at least interesting to see if it was something he could get through. He was very careful to remain passive, not pressing hard at all on her mind, lightly skipping along her thoughts.

He felt something perk up, as if it was a dog that had sensed a far off whistle.

Bandit instantly disentangled himself, drew back.

Animalistic or not, if I get detected, I have no doubt that she'll call her Decepticon companions to back her up. Hmm. Interesting point - there aren't any other Decepticons here. Just her. Usually they travel in pairs at the very least.

The car just seemed to sit quietly, bumper almost to the sagging chain link.

Bandit looked down, slowly, and then he smiled, just a faint uplift of the corner of his mouth. It was the kind of smile that a cybercat might give a glitchmouse, right before it slurped it down, tiny feet and all.

I'm interested in a challenge and she's not a bad one. He stopped, looked around, pushed himself off of the tree onto his feet and then transformed into his alternate mode, a cobalt blue Saleen Mustang, and headed for the construction site. None of the humans are armed. They're mere grunts and workers . . . hmm. They do have these things called jackhammers and steam shovels and that rather primitive scoop thing.

He drove to the edge of the building, careful not to get upwind from her, careful to just wait until he was in the right position. . . .

Then he reached out to one of the human minds and took over. . .

He felt the little organic's shock, almost a mental gasp.

That's right. Now look over here, at me. I'm one of them. . . .

"Joe! Isn't that one of those Transformers?"

The man in the hard hat looked up, eyes narrowed against the sweat dripping into his eyes.

"It is. . . ."

And you hate us, don't you, for what we've done to your lives and your world.

A burly hand clenched around the wrench it was holding, and an angry mutter came over the assembled men, the pipe forgotten behind them as Bandit edged his hood out slightly.

So I'm alone . . . all by myself . . . you can actually maybe destroy me. . . .

"I've never seen one by itself, Joe. Maybe it's hurt."

"Yeah, and we'll make it hurt, if it’s not, that son of a bitch. Come on, I've busted up a few cars in my day."

The first chunk of concrete slammed into the ground inches from his front end, and Bandit's tires sent gravel spraying up to ping against the side of the building. A second later a coke can bounced off his windshield and clattered across his hood, and he crunched it under his tire as he tried to execute a tight three point turn, his wipers smearing the sticky substance in an arc across the clear metal. Humans rushed towards him, swinging hammers, wrenches, and one of them actually smashed a pipe almost into his rear spoiler as he turned completely and started to rush away.

In the corner of his visuals, the black car raised both headlights in an expression of surprise that actually wrung a chuckle from him. Coming as it was from a car, it was actually quite funny. Bandit picked up speed slowly, encouraged the humans to pursue him. The courier seemed surprised, but didn't make a move except to shift her tires a little to angle herself for a little better view of the mob. He sent a slight touch of encouragement to the human in the backhoe to pursue him, and it did, slowly.

Hmm. As a weapon of destruction, the backhoe seems to only be useful against non moving targets.

Pondering this, he almost didn't catch one of the humans near him heave a chunk of rock at his back tire. He skidded, fish-tailed in the roadway to end up nearly in front of the backhoe. The scoop came down and barely missed him, ripping a raw wound into the asphalt instead. It raised up, dripping hunks of road like saliva from the jaws of a beast, and the human jerked the machine into a higher gear, struck down at the cobalt car again. The metal of the rusted yellow machine creaked and moaned in protest as it took another bite out of the street. Bandit finally managed to get his tires underneath him and skidded off down the road a bit, the humans still in pursuit.

The black car edged closer to the fence, then he saw it pull jerkily from the parking spot and vanish around the corner.

Bandit screeched down the road, gaining speed and then finally swerved off the road into a small undeveloped piece of land that actually held a tangled mess of trees and brush. He passed a few rotten tires, noting that the humans had actually followed him this far. He had to at least admire their persistence as he transformed, hiding himself among the brush and waiting for a few moments before he sent out a careful, quick prod at the mass of angered humans, making them realize that the chase was a futile one. One by one, the humans seemed to lose heart, some shaking their heads and muttering as they loaded back up onto their equipment and headed back the way they'd come. He leaned against a tree for a moment, looked up, a slight smile on his lips.

Bandit staggered out of the trees then, hand to his chest where he was still wiping off the remnants of the sticky soda.

The black car skidded to a stop, both headlights open wide, and then she growled, a deep, canine rumble that seemed utterly out of place with the sleek mechanical machine resting on the road before him.

Bandit's expression changed to one of slight surprise, and just a little fear as he took a step back.

She transformed, finishing up in an odd end position, crouched on all fours like a sprinter in the blocks. Long and lean, her body style screamed out to anyone looking at her that she was fast. Every corner on her was smooth, and across her shoulders, what used to be the spoiler of her car mode twitched with every movement she made. Her black helmet was offset in the back by a sweeping solid silver-grey ponytail, and he found himself thinking that she was actually quite young for some reason - but that didn't make the situation any less volatile.

His optics seemed to widen as dark lips pulled back from gleaming mouth plates and she growled again, the noise a clear furious threat.

"Oh . . . slag. . . ."

She tensed there, watching him. Her optics, he noticed weren't the red he'd been expecting, but a hot, bright azure color that could have graced any Autobot proudly; however, emblazoned across her black chest was the purple Decepticon symbol inside of a silver lightning bolt.

Bandit heard her draw air past her intake sensors with a deep huff, and then she made the noise again. He realized she was sniffing, taking his scent, and what she smelled made her optics flare almost blue-white.

Slowly, his hands came up.

"Look . . . I have no weapons. Wrong place, wrong time. . . ."

The Decepticon inclined her head, slightly slanted optics watching him with a feral wariness. She shifted uneasily from foot to foot, half crouched in the roadway, her weight fully forward on the tips of her toes. It gave him the impression that if he made a wrong move, she would bound forward like a bullet from a projectile gun and aim for his throat.

"Autobot," she finally said, rolling the word out of her throat. Her speech had an odd tone, as if she was growling underneath each vowel; an animal given the rudimentary knowledge of language.

Bandit shook his head, his amber optics bright. "No . . . I'm a neutral," he said quickly, tapping his cobalt chest with a finger. At the motion, she curled her lips back and snarled again.

"See? No insignia."

The courier seemed to hesitate, and then she sniffed again.

A faint smile crossed her face, but it wasn't a nice one. "Reek Autobot," she muttered, but he could see her actually looking at him a with slight interest.

"Yeah, well, I work for them, right now. Just a reconnaissance mission. I'm from Cybertron . . . I gotta make a living somehow, you know." The words tumbled from his vocalizer quickly and defensively, and he shifted slightly, his black fingers opening and closing nervously next to his sides.

"Work for."

He nodded. "Us Neutrals are considered pretty expendable by the ‘bots, you know?"

Her optics gleamed, a hot bright blue, and she let air past her intakes with a soft snort of derision. Bringing up her foot, she pawed at the roadway beneath them, the front of her foot striking sparks from the asphalt.

"I'm not a fighter," he defended.

"Then are," she growled slowly, "Autobot. Work for are." He watched as she brought up her arm, a knife sliding slowly into place from behind her wrist, extending out a forearm's length past her fingertips. He watched her body posture shift, her shoulders dipping slightly, coming up on her toes. The low growl became a warning - a rolling singsong undertone.

"It's not that simple," he told her. "It never is, is it? I've never been here before . . . they took a bunch of us Neutrals, because they said that we're expendable. . . but if we lived, then they'd pay us." His shoulders sagged, and he held out his hands to her again, a look of frustration passing over his face. "It's so hard to live on Cybertron if you're not an Autobot, you know? You have to take what you can get, scraps from the elite's table. . . ."

The courier inclined her head, the growl trailing off.

"Scraps," she repeated suddenly. "Yes."

He nodded. "I really don't want to hurt anyone. I'm just a recon model . . . I'm not a fighter. I have to survive somehow, you know."

A slight nod from her, a stiff little jerk of her head. "Understand. Scraps." She looked at him then, shook her head. "Humans not . . . like. Smarter away."

Bandit agreed instantly. "Believe me, I want to go back. But I can't until the ship goes back to Cybertron. . . ."

"Ship? Wait, shuttle?"

A quick nod from him and a little smile. "Yeah. A shuttle."

Her scruffy black shoulders lifted in a little shrug, and he realized then that she was actually taller than him, most of her height in her long, gangly legs. Her frame was lighter than he might have thought for a Decepticon . . . they used a lot of armor in an effort to keep themselves from dying from Autobot accuracy. He looked up at her and smiled, hesitantly.

"I . . . just was taking a drive. Needed to get out of that place for a while. The Autobots . . . aren't right."

"Off world." she said slowly, her feral, guarded expression becoming thoughtful. "Go off soon. All of you."

"Believe me," he said, meaning every word. "I want nothing more."

"Good," the girl growled, and turned to go past him.

"I want it all back the way it was. No Autobots. No Decepticons. No war . . . but I know that's stupid."

Her head canted, grey ponytail almost brushing her neck guard.

"No. No war, get off planet. Not want here. Humans, mean."

"Yeah, I noticed that. I think . . ." he smiled a little at her, a faint, hesitant smile, "that they have every right to be angry with us. The Autobots did a number on their home. All I can do is survive, though. I can live on scraps okay back home and I don't have to join the Autobot plans of conquest and galaxy domination." His optics dimmed a little, and a shudder ran through his frame.

She stopped in mid stride, looked at him with curiosity.

"Yes. Humans, rights. Angry are . . . Autobots hurt."

"Yeah. I guess I just don't see the point of it. I don't understand or know why they need humans. Just stupid, destructive pride."

He realized he had her full attention then, as she inclined her head and looked at him. Slowly, she lifted her leg and pawed at the road beneath her again, shifting her weight back and forth.

"They ruined our planet. Probably ruin this one too," he mumbled, shaking his head a little sadly.

"No," she told him.

"Well, I hope not," he agreed. "Don't get me wrong, I realize how hypocritical this sounds, considering I'm working for them. . . ."

She shrugged again. "Not work, then. Go home. Yes?"

He nodded, smiled just a little. "Yes. And I won't go for any more drives to just look at the inhabitants."

The courier actually flashed him a slight smile. "Smart."

Bandit laughed. "I'm small. I have to have something going for me."

"Small? Oh . . . yes. Short."

"I'm not built for fighting. Not like you guys. Most Neuts aren't."

"No. Not," she decided, turning away from him and then dropping back into her car mode. She folded up strangely, the missing bits of the car in her robot mode appearing as if out of tucked in places. When the Trans-Am sat on the roadway, its side mirrors flicked back and forth a few times before it settled.

"Can . . . can I go?" he asked.

A faint chuckle reverberated under the hood. "Not stopping you."

He smiled, relief passing across his face. "Thank you."

The car hesitated, obviously unsure.

"Welcome," she said softly. "Is okay. Understand, live on scraps."

Bandit inclined his head a little. "No offense . . . but I hope we don't meet again," he told her as he transformed and turned to go the opposite way.

I'll make sure, though, that we do. . . .

Sigh . . . I've got to get out of here for a while. I've been at this blasted Ark for two days straight and all I've found out is that Optimus Prime is more of a loose wire than I even had suspected. Tales abound in this place of medical bays of horrors, of infighting that makes Magnus's troops look as polished as a precision military strike force . . . and every time I attempt to sit quietly in the main room and listen, that damned tracker of Prime's growls and snarls at me. At least the courier, for all of her growling and snarling could form a sentence. Well, at least a few coherent words.

Hmm. I wonder. . . .

Today would be a good day to go for a drive, I think. Easy enough to suggest it to someone so I can leave without anyone being curious to where I've gone. Besides, if Hound shows up sniffing after me one more time today, I think I would feel obligated to take over his mind and have him throw himself off a cliff, and that's just bad business practice.

He got to his feet and stretched and then headed for the front entrance, humming a little to himself.

Arcee was waiting at the main doors, when he came walking up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Bandit smiled, an easy grin that was both teasing and yet somehow made him seem harmless. His amber eyes shone warmly in the black mask-panel, very striking against the lower white two thirds of his face.

"Well, I had figured that today was a good day to get a little more information about this place. Prime himself requested my . . . expertise here, and it seems a shame to waste his hard spent credits."

"I don't believe you for a moment," the pink and white femme said, frowning. She crossed her arms and glanced over at him, and Bandit took a brief moment to wonder what cosmic joke had decided to grace this femme with a pink and white color scheme. No wonder she was rather . . . touchy.

"I've heard about you," she snapped, her fingers hovering over the holster of her pistol.

"About me? I'm flattered. . . ."

"You shouldn't be. None of it was good."

The amber optics took on a golden cast as he inclined his head slightly. "Really? Well, perhaps they were talking about someone else then."

"I don't think so, Thief."

His shoulders shifted slightly, and he brought his hand up to rub his chin thoughtfully, a faint expression of concern crossing his face before he chuckled.

"I believe you have me at a disadvantage. For as you see, you seem to know so much about me, while I only know a little bit about you."

Arcee's bright pink lips pulled back in an ugly sneer. "A little bit? Well, you are rather short . . . I can see why it would only be a little bit. . . ."

Bandit smiled, tipping his head and putting his hand up to his cobalt chest in a gesture of pained restraint. Then his optics flashed amber as he grinned again, still friendly. "Now, of course, I personally didn't try to throw my chassis at Ultra Magnus in an attempt to think I could interface my way to the top . . . but then again, I'm male, what do I know about that sort of thing?"

Arcee stiffened. "Why, you. . . ."

"I'm wrong?" he inquired innocently.

"You son of-"

Bandit chuckled. "A little, I'll admit. Now won't you be polite and let me go on my way?"

"You need orders."

"I'm not working for you, I work for Prime, remember?" Bandit told her gently, still smiling. "I don't think we need to take this concern to him, do you?"

Arcee hesitated, her optics burning bright azure, and then she clenched her fist.

Bandit kept smiling, and then he inclined his head as his mind reached out to hers, intertwining through her thoughts, carefully, insidious as a still snake in a tangle of brush.

You know, if you bring it before Lord Prime . . . there will be consequences to pay. Let me go out, and let it be my problem to deal with his wrath if he decides that I wasn't supposed to be away from the Ark. . . .  Besides, all the better for you if I run into the Decepticons with no one to back me up. I'm just a stupid Neutral, just a lowly thief, aren't I? Hmm. You could even point out where not to go . . . where the Decepticons have been . . . set me up since you know you're so much smarter than I am. . . .

"Well, you are under Lord Prime's employ. No need to bother him, just like you said. So go ahead and go out," she said, with an attempt at a smile that was supposed to be sweet, but only succeeded in making her look like she'd drank some bad energon. "Oh, by the way, I'd stay away from that one town north of here. There's been some Decepticon troops in that area off and on. Wouldn't want you to get . . . hurt."

"Well, thank you. I appreciate that very much. I'll be sure to head to the south to do my observation."

She smiled. "Oh, I think that's a good idea."

"Well, if you think it's a good idea, I will surely take note," he chuckled as he nodded slightly to her, and walked out of the Ark. Hmm. No wonder Magnus decided not to take her as his consort . . . I think she would have ended up a pink and white desk sculpture to hold down data.

Bandit drove to the south, taking the stretches of highway still kept in good repair. The car form he had taken before arriving here felt odd to him, but he had known he would need it to blend in to this world better, and he had liked the little hooded cobra symbol that the Mustang bore on its side panel. My one point to vanity, he admitted. Although, it would have made more sense for him to be a plane, perhaps. The humans didn't run in terror from those, but the flight technology was both delicate and sensitive, and he doubted all of the dust and dirt on Earth did the Decepticons any good. Flying would have been interesting, but not very practical.

He caught the slight tang of cordite and smoke on the wind as he drove slowly south, feeling the roadway reaching up to grip his tires, weaving easily back and forth between the faded yellow stripes, just enjoying the drive more than anything else. There wasn't a single car around except for him, and he swept back and forth, tires almost touching one white line, and then the other, his low center of gravity keeping him beautifully on the road.

It was on one the passes that he realized he was being tailed.

Well, what a coincidence . . . just who I wanted to see.

The black car swept behind him, keeping a steady pace as it tried to stay out of his sight, using the bends in the road to stay out of visual contact. Bandit gave a soft chuckle and kept driving, heading out of the town into the hills, heading towards a more unpopulated area. The car followed, carefully, and then seemed to realize where he was headed. His sensors caught her backing off, then she turned, a rather wide reversal in the middle of the road and turned back the way they'd came.

Hmm. . . .

Wait a moment.

Bandit had a sudden suspicion that she was herding him, like a dog driving a fox away from it's flock of chickens. He frowned to himself, allowing his front tires to dig into the roadside as he turned himself and peeled back a long strip of withered grass off the side of the asphalt. Slowly, he started to head back himself, not letting on that he'd ever realized she was behind him.

I'm good at bluffing, courier. . . .

One moment, he was following the road, the next she was in front of him, transformed. It was even a surprise to him, and he threw on his brakes and skidded to a stop, leaving the smell of burnt tires lingering in the early winter air.

She growled, low in her chest.

He backed up, his tires churning on the roadway as she took a step forward, her head lowered, her angular optics gleaming a hot sky blue.

"What? What did I do?" he asked, transforming into his humanoid mode. His head turned partially to the side as he glanced nervously away from her.

"Orders," she muttered finally. "Run you out."

"So I can be picked off alone?"

An undertone of fear crept into his slight British-like accent, and again, Bandit moved his head from side to side as if seeking escape. She growled again at his movement, and he forced himself to stand still. His fingers still trembled faintly, though, and it was enough to draw her attention again.

"No. No Autobots . . . where fighting hurts humans. Go home."

"I can't. Not until the shuttle goes back," he explained, his amber optics turning a soft shade of warm gold.

The courier snarled, tensing so much it rattled her framework with sharp mechanical pings.

"No. Go Ark. Go away."

Bandit watched her use a foot to paw at the roadway, and he suddenly realized that she was as frustrated with her lack of speech as she was by his lack of understanding.

"I told you," he said, "I honestly try to spend as little time there as possible. What if I went somewhere else . . . away from the fight?"

"Go?" she asked, her head cocking and giving him the impression that she was looking him as if he'd suddenly told her he was really a small flightless Earth bird.

"Yeah. I just assumed that there's going to be a fight, and I just want to get out of the way. If I go back to the Ark, they might send me out to fight as fodder. Tell you what, I'll just go somewhere . . . away. Would that be all right with you?"

Carefully, she seemed to ponder it for a moment, and then she jerked her head in agreement.

"Yes. Fine."

Bandit sighed in seeming relief. "Until it quiets down and I can finally go home." Then he looked up at her and managed a sudden surprised smile of understanding. "You . . . you came to warn me?"

A look of shock crossed the courier's face. It was the least feral look he'd seen from her yet, and it made her finally appear as terribly young as he'd thought she was. "No . . ." she corrected, "no, no, help you leave. . . ."

"Well, I mean, you saw me and came to warn me . . ." he began, and then he shrugged. "Whatever the case, thank you again."

Now she was completely confused, and she turned her head this way and that, quizzically. Then she whined, a soft, quiet canine thread of sound that bubbled up from her chest and escaped her vocalizer.

"You warned me, and you're letting me go. Thank you," he pressed on, bringing his finger up to lightly touch the brim of his helmet like a human might doff a cap. "That's all."

If she could have blinked, she would have, perhaps, and her optics went to that deep shade of cobalt for a moment. "You . . . called?" she asked, quietly.

"Called?" he asked.

She struggled to find the words. "Name. Name is?"

"Oh that. I'm sorry, I'm still a little jumpy. Bandit . . . my name is Bandit. I mean, they call me Bandit. Back home, that is. . . ."

She smiled a little. "Bandit. Dart."

"Dart? Is that your name?"

The courier nodded, ponytail flashing a little in the light.

"Well, it suits you. You're fast."

Dart grinned. Then she danced a tiny step in the middle of the road, a strange, stilted prance. "Yes. Fast. Courier."

"Oh," he smiled back, "so you're not a fighter, either?"

"Me? No. Courier. Starscream -" she seemed to catch herself then, and a tiny rumble escaped her before she continued, looking at him. "Just courier."

"Sorry. I don't know much about Decepticons," he offered. "Most of it's probably just rumor, anyway."

"Rumor?"

"Yeah," Bandit nodded. "We know they . . . you, fight the Autobots, but a lot of mechanisms don't know why. The Autobots don't let a lot of information out."

"No," Dart replied, dancing a nervous sidestep. "Fight to save Earth. Humans."

"Oh. Well, that's good, right? I mean, this isn't their war, the Autobots brought it to them."

"Yes!" she agreed, actually smiling.

He smiled back, letting the hesitancy creep off of his face and replacing it with tentative trust. "Well, where should I go until it's over?"

"Over? War? Um . . . not know."

"Heh. Well, let me rephrase that. What's a good direction to hide out at?"

"This one," she told him, gesturing with a sweep of her fingers at the landscape.

"Well, okay. I'm good at hiding for hours."

"Are?" she wondered.

Bandit grinned. "Yeah, on Cybertron, I have to a lot. When I'm out looking for energon or supplies."

Dart lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. "Just run. Always like to run. Avoid first."

He laughed, a soft, measured chuckle. "Avoidance is good."

She smiled at him, a tiny glint of humor warming the cobalt color of her optics in her lean silver face. "Yes. So stay here. Avoid it."

"Right here?"

"Not call in, so stay too. Yes. Here."

"Well . . . I guess I wouldn't mind the company," he told her.

She chuckled, low in her throat, and then a grin quirked the corner of her mouth. "Keep nose on you. Know where you are. Job done."

"Heh. Well, I'm flattered, I guess. Mostly I hear from the femmes that I'm short."

Her head inclined and she looked at him quizzically. He didn't think she got the joke. "Not that short.”

"Compared to most of the warriors here I am," he said, smiling, as he shook his head. "That's okay, I'm comfortable with it."

"Still tall to humans," she offered.

"Yeah, I suppose that's true."

A laugh actually escaped her then, bubbling up from her vocalizer like a mix of a dog's bark and the yip of a coyote; he found himself chuckling with her. She looked over, a slight hint of mischief in her optics. "Not short then," she explained.

"Hey, I'm not short to small organic beings from other planets. That somehow makes my entire existence complete," he teased her.

She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a shrill, sharp noise from her communicator.

"Dart!" it crackled. "Where are you?"

She startled, shied a few meters to the left, and whined, ducking her head.

"Did as asked. Followed . . . Autobot . . . out of town."

"Well, you can stop following him and come back here. I can get long range com-link, but short range is being jammed, and I need to get some backup down here."

Even Bandit caught the exasperated tone of whomever was speaking to her. She fidgeted, whined again, and then hung her head lower, looking at the roadway.

"Come now. Am sorry."

"It's okay," the mechanism said, toning the frustration is his voice down as if he realized the courier's abject apology in just those few words. "We just need you back."

Another voice broke in under the echoing patter of laser fire in the background of the transmission. "Dart! Now! Here! Come!"

The girl reared back, shied, and then spun away from Bandit and took one step, a second, and then there was the sudden rush of sound that cracked back at him at the same time it felt like he'd been hit with a blast of air. He stumbled back, throwing up an arm to shield his optics from the gravel that spattered up against his paint a moment later. Slowly, he took his arm down and then realized she was long gone, but what lingered with him was the look he'd seen in her optics just before she'd responded to the summons. It was one of frustration, but almost, he found himself thinking, bordering on . . . humiliation and anger.

The afternoon shadows grew long, and Bandit drove quietly back towards the city, watching the way the thin sunlight stretched across the road and turned the dead grass on the sides of the road the color of rust. He'd waited patiently for most of the day, and then he had finally decided that it was a distinct possibility that in the battle she might have told to leave the area if they couldn't secure it.

Slowly, he drove into the city limits, his tires crunching over old concrete and broken glass. His scanner was working overtime, as he kept to the more shadowed areas, searching for any remnants of the Decepticons or Autobots. All he picked up were traces of weapons fire, the lingering smell of spilled fuel and the acrid stink of burned plastics . . . and some more . . . organic odors.

Looks like they all left.

Wait one moment. . . .

His scanners picked up the low voices of conversation, and he came to a gently rolling stop, shutting down everything but his life functions and his audio enhancement, listened intently.

"Starscream . . . listen to me, okay? I know you have a soft spot for those less fortunate, and you're one of the kindest mechs I've ever met. But for once, you need to put yourself over someone else, and not try to solve everyone else's problems."

"It was an accident, Skywarp."

"Accident?" Skywarp echoed. "Starscream, she nearly tried to gut Dead End. You barely called her off, this time. She's getting worse, and we all know it. Look, I know you did your best, but from what I understand, that download on that stasis cube you found degraded after being exposed that long to the elements. You did the right thing, gave her a chance. She - I know it's not her fault. . . ."

"It's not her fault," Starscream agreed with a sigh that rattled his drooping wings. "She reacts. And what she reacted to was a car coming at me."

"I know. But, Star, she's not getting better. I mean, you've had her working for six earth months, and you finally got her to say a complete, non-broken sentence the other day. She howls at the moon and snaps at anyone stupid enough to startle her. I'm telling you, she's going to make a terrible mistake someday, and I... you know, I just don't want you getting caught up in it." Skywarp sighed, put his hand on Starscream's red shoulder, and shook his head. "It's not that I don't feel sorry for her. I do. I'm sure she's as frustrated as we are with her lack of understanding, and I can tell a lot of things scare her. Couriers are flighty by nature, remember?"

"I can't seem to forget," Starscream said quietly. "Everyone keeps reminding me that I made a mistake."

"Oh, Star. You didn't make a mistake. You did what any of us would have done, tried to save a life."

Starscream stared at the ground. "I made a mistake, Skywarp." His whole posture seemed to slump, and then he sighed, his wings lifting a little and clicking against his back. "Thank you, though. I just needed to be told gently that I wasn't admitting it. Come on, we should get back to base and make sure everything's all right. The Autobots did some damage, and I'll go and see if they need my help in Medical."

"Yeah. Come on. I'll shadow you back."

The two Decepticons leapt delicately into the air, the thin light glistening off of them as they transformed and took to the skies, the soft rumble of their engines rolling back over the deserted town.

Bandit sat there, waiting until they were long gone before snapping back on his scanners, and bringing his power levels back up. A familiar pattern came into view a second later, and he realized something.

She didn't leave, nor is she far. She's sitting behind that building over there. And her audios probably picked up that entire conversation. I get the feeling that she heard this conversation before. Experimentally, he reached out again to her, mentally and passively, just seeing if her thoughts were still scrambled like before. They were even more so, and he pulled back immediately, sensing that she was terribly upset.

Slowly, the cobalt Mustang rolled forward a bit, eased around two corners and then he saw her . . . sitting with her back to the building, her arms around her knees as she huddled there, rocking slightly. It was a picture of abject dejection that he rolled forward a little bit, realizing that she hadn't even heard him approach. He edged closer, and her head snapped up suddenly, a deep, rolling growl reverberating through her metal.

"Dart?" he asked softly.

Her optics went from cobalt to that bright, terrible blue as she roared, a deep, canine sound of challenge and lunged to her feet. Bandit skidded back just as she flicked a knife out and leapt for him, the silver blade flashing down to slam into the pavement inches from his bumper. Smoke boiled up from his rear tires as he ended up burning rubber until they finally caught. Dart snarled again, sniffed, and then she shook her head, looking lost as her optics dimmed back to the deep cobalt.

"Oh you," she said, her words barely coherent. "Sorry. Thought someone else."

Bandit transformed. "Yeah, look. It's okay. I'm sorry I startled you."

"Is okay, fault. . . ."

"No," he corrected her gently. "No, it's not. I keep forgetting I look like all of the other Autobots like this. You're reacting to a possible threat, and that's not your fault at all. It might just keep you alive."

"Oh, well. . ."

She sighed, looked down at her hand and winced a little, shaking it.

"You all right?" Concern crept in to his voice, and she inclined her head, nodded.

"Yes, forgot."

"Yeah, that looks like that hurt," he murmured, looking at her hand. She pulled it back, shoved it under her armpit, and he pretended to look around the battlefield. She followed his gaze after a moment.

"Mess."

"Yeah, and what was it really all about?"

"Autobots wanted something. Decepticons said no. Killed a lot of . . . people. Accident." She sighed softly. "Always an accident . . . but not seem to care."

"It's the same way with Neutrals back home. A lot of times, we're the one's that get stepped on in this war." He frowned, scuffed his foot against the pavement, stirring up a faint puff of dust.

"Is? Neutral then good. Understood." She rubbed at her hand for a moment, looked at him. "But home now . . . get yelled at."

"Why?"

"Mistake," she finally choked out.

He nodded. "Was anyone hurt by your mistake?"

She whined and fidgeted and shifted nervously from foot to foot. When she spoke it was even more strained and growling than usual.

"Dead End . . . accident. Swear. Just react. . . ."

"I believe you. Was he really hurt? Will he live?"

"Yes. Live fine. Scared him more than hurt. Wanted to hurt, can really hurt. Not fighter, but fast."

Bandit looked around. "Then it seems to me that yours wasn't the biggest mistake." His head inclined, indicating the wreckage around them, the pulverized concrete and the twisted metal. A few spots of rust lingered here and there, human fluid drying slowly in the cold air.

Her optics took in the area, and then slow understanding seemed to dawn.

"Thank. . . you."

He nodded. "I just don't think it's fair. If they are going to reprimand you . . . it seems rather hypocritical, that's all."

Dart shifted from foot to foot, looking down at the ground. "Decepticons have lots of guilt. Lots. Everything is fault."

A sympathetic look crossed his face, his golden optics soft.

"I know. But that doesn't give them a right to put it on you, simply because you made a mistake in the heat of combat."

Her optics flashed azure. "Starscream most guilt," she mumbled, and then she glanced around the wreckage again, then seemed to contemplate Bandit as she processed his previous sentence. "Does not?"

"No, it doesn't. Not to me."

Dart smiled, and this incredibly grateful look passed over her face, her body language shifting from closed and wary to friendly; a dog lowering the hackles on her back.

Bandit grinned, chuckled, opening his hands in a gesture of confusion. "Show me a fighter that hasn't made a mistake in combat and I'll show you a liar, honestly."

Dart laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Mostly liars, yes?"

"Yup, Dart. Liars. The world's full of them."

She nodded, smiling in understanding, and then she shifted from foot to foot again nervously. "Should go. Decepticons worry gone too long."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. I like it here though, even all smashed up as it is. Better than back at the Ark. I don't want to be the scapegoat today. I'll probably just hang out here as much as possible until I can finally go home." He brushed dust off of his framework, looking like he just was finding something to do with himself for a moment before he glanced back up at her. "You know? Right here, in this area. . . ."

"Stay here? You?"

"Is . . . is that okay?"

She hesitated, shifted again, and then a slight glint of hope crept into her optics. "Yes. Okay?"

He shrugged. "As much as possible, unless they call me back . . . and until it's time to go back to Cybertron."

She shrugged, trying to look indifferent, and failing miserably. "Just check to make sure you still here every once while. Okay?"

He smiled. "Sure."

Dart titled her head, responding to his smile with one of her own before she trotted off and disappeared into the city.

A few weeks had passed, and the last of the straggling trees had shed their leaves.

Bandit stood silently in the main hall of the Ark, watching Autobots going about their duties. He leaned there silently, golden optics looking at nothing. Arcee passed him lingering there, and hesitated, then shot him a low, dark glare. He smiled a little, waved at the pink and white femme with just the tips of his black fingers. She threw him a look of pure disgust, and turned her back on him, stalking down the hall.

She's so pleasant, Arcee. Even Dart has better manners.

An image of the courier flickered in his mind. Hmm. She's come around, slowly, but she's coming around to accepting me. I've learned, all I needed to do was talk to her, not like a beast, not with seeming pity and tolerance for her vocalizations. The more I treat her like I would treat any other intelligent Transformer, the more she trusts me and accepts me . . . and honestly, I prefer her company to this place a thousandfold. Bandit sighed, and looked up as Jazz sauntered down the corridor, music coming from his speakers and wrapping him in rhythm. Jazz did a slight pause, the music toning down as he walked over to lean on the wall next to Bandit.

Jazz, Bandit had found, was one of the few Transformers here that was genuinely pleasant, even if he was part of that . . . Team Omega. Bandit found the other two too enamored with the willingness to beat one another up . . . although, they were at least a coherent strike group, unlike a lot of the other teams Prime had attempted to assemble. Putting Arcee and Springer together was one of his less intelligent moves, but the fact that the two of them soon came to blows wasn't good. It was amusing, true. But it was a waste of time and resources to patch them up.

"Heya, Bandit," Jazz said, the music from his speakers fading into the background and changing to something classical. It took Bandit a moment to realize Jazz was playing the "Imperial March" from that space opera human movie. Bandit had watched the whole series and he still didn't understand the concept that midi-chlorians had anything to do with the Force power they were speaking of. The human writer must have been running on fumes that day, he decided.

"Well, look who's lingering in the hall looking at the pretty femmes," Jazz grinned, causing Bandit to look up and break off his internal debate over which of the six movies were the best. "His Lordship was asking me where you'd gotten to the other day."

A shrug lifted Bandit's shoulders. "Around."

Jazz chuckled, and the march drifted faintly into the background. "Relieving the boredom?"

"Trying, at any rate," Bandit replied.

"Like that's going to happen here . . . this place is the station of Boredom. Nothing to do but to sit here, blow things up, and watch his Lordship pit mechanisms against each other all day. What fun, eh?"

"Couldn't help but notice. Another reason I've not really been around much."

Jazz laughed, his visor shimmering warm blue. "Okay, now you're just coming off as smarter than the rest of us."

Bandit grinned slightly. "I can't imagine why that is."

"Well, most of us but me. That's implied." Jazz chuckled, looking up at the sound of feet in the corridor. It was heavy, as if someone was deliberately making noise in an attempt to be heard, and Bandit's gold optics flared just as Hound rounded the corner. The boxy green mech stopped, and looked at both of them, his icy blue optics coming into focus on Bandit, and then he growled softly.

What is it with me and things growling at me? Bandit found himself thinking.

Jazz looked over. "Hey, Dogbot. Go find something else to growl at. We're having an intelligent conversation here."

Hound snorted, and then focused in on Bandit again, his optics seeming to narrow as he stalked towards him. Bandit leaned casually on the wall, a look of boredom crossing his face as Hound snarled at him again.

"What's your problem?" Jazz said with a grin. "Did his Lordship give you stale kibble this morning?"

Hound ignored him, looking down at Bandit and smiling, a cold, calculated smile. Then he snorted and aimed his holo-projector on the wall. Bandit glanced over, still affecting that air of boredom as Hound flashed up the picture.

He saw himself framed beautifully against the drab grey of the crumbled buildings, his cobalt shimmering in the thin light. Beside him, the Decepticon courier listened raptly to what he had to say, her black and grey making her look sleeker and taller than ever.

Hound let out a growl that sounded suspiciously like laughter as Jazz looked over.

"What's that all about?" he asked Bandit, a little sharper than normal.

Bandit's optics flashed amber, and his fingers tightened slightly. "Nothing to worry about, I assure you. I'm getting paid enough that it would take more than the Decepticons have to offer to get me to stab you in the back."

Hound snorted, and then he turned off his holo and glared at Bandit again. Bandit had this overwhelming urge to reach in and make the scarred green tracker dance a waltz across the floor, but he didn't. No matter how good it would feel, I don't need to be that . . . unsubtle.

Jazz spoke up suddenly. "Take a hike, Hound. Go leak on a tree or something."

The tracker growled, but stalked down the passageway, his shoulders stiff. His footfalls made no noise as he rounded he corner and disappeared. Jazz whistled slowly, looking back at the cobalt Neutral next to him.

"Probably just jealous or something," Bandit commented, settling back against the wall.

"Jealous? Whatever for?"

"Peh. I don't know. Maybe because he can't talk half as well as she can?"

Jazz laughed, then shook his head, his visor somehow becoming thoughtful. "You know that's gonna end up on his Gunhappyship's desk by nightfall."

"Don't worry, Jazz. I didn't get where I am by stabbing anyone in the back in the middle of a deal. I'm not an Autobot. I was hired. By Prime himself, I'll remind him. That should deflect some of his rage."

"I'm not worried," the white Transformer replied with a faint lift of his shoulders. "You should worry about yourself. Prime may not like you consorting with the enemy. If you're that . . . desperate for female company you should just have asked Prowl for one of his harem."

Bandit's optics flared gold for a moment. "Nah. I'm just killing time until I can get off this mudball."

"Well, that's a fun way to do it at least. Which one of theirs is that, anyway? Oh wait . . . that's that courier. Hmm. I've never seen her standing still. Skinny thing, isn't she . . . but she's got nice legs, I'll give you that concession."

Bandit shrugged, shaking his head. "It's nothing like that. At all. I just think she's . . . interesting."

"Interesting? To you?" Jazz laughed softly, inclining his head to look over at Bandit. "Sucks to be her then, huh?"

The Neutral grinned, a little. "Well, that's not always the case."

"Not always?"

Bandit shook his head again. "Nah. Many of them go on to work for me for a very long time."

"Hmm," Jazz made a slight thoughtful noise and looked over at him. The golden optics had turned the pale brittle color of the winter sunlight. "You're trying to snag her from the ‘cons aren't you?"

"Possibly. There's a lot of resentment there. She doesn't like being treated like a slightly slow processor, and she's not one. I can use that. And, it gives me something to do while I'm stuck here. I'm sure everyone would rather have me amuse myself somewhere away from here."

Jazz nodded. "I'll vote that way, yes. Like I said earlier, I'm not stupid."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

"I'm honored," Jazz said.

"You should work for me. We have a better benefits package."

"What, and miss all the backstabbing and soap operas? I mean, it's like Evil Days of Our Lives in here. She likes him, he's interfacing with her, she's cheating on him. . . ."

Bandit laughed. "I suppose so, if you have patience for that sort of thing."

Jazz laughed, and then he looked up. "Five, four, three. . . ."

The communication came to Bandit an instant later. "Bandit. Report to Lord Prime. Immediately."

Slowly, Jazz shook his head, a little sympathy lurking in his visored visage. "Told you. He got there faster than I thought. Sorry."

"They should have given that blasted Hound a brain wipe when they pulled out his voice box," Bandit grumbled, his optics flashing a cold amber from behind his black mask. "I better go get this over with. And hope Prime doesn't attempt to kill me. It wouldn't be pleasant."

"No kidding. Good luck. Hope to see you around. If I don't, can I have your stuff?"

Bandit pushed off the wall, and looked back to see Jazz's grin. "Heh. Sorry, no. No you can't."

Slowly, he walked through the huge, thick door into Prime's office.

Optimus Prime looked down at him from his "throne" on the dias, his massive fingers slowly interlacing as he looked down at the smaller mechanism. Slightly off to the side, Hound stood in the shadows, sharpening one of his ever present knives against the metal of his forearm. It made a rasping noise, and the boxy green mechanism drew it slowly back and forth, the noise like the sound of a hyena's jaws scraping meat from a bone.

Bandit ignored Hound and nodded towards Prime respectfully, tipping his head and bringing up his fingers to touch the brim of his helmet.

Optimus leaned forward, and his voice rumbled up from his chest, deep and deliberate.

"We seem to have a little confusion over who's funding you, do we not?"

Bandit calmly shook his head. "Is there? Currently, it's the Autobots, I thought."

"Then why are you spending an inordinate amount of time with a Decepticon? Humor me. I'm curious."

"Amusing myself. Unless you preferred I . . . amuse myself with some of your people."

Prime leaned forward a little more, massive red shoulders gleaming like freshly spilled blood. Then he chuckled.

Hound's head whipped around and he glared at Bandit, murderously, knife halfway drawn back over his arm.

"It's just for my own amusement, I assure you, Lord Prime. I never betray a contract. Where would that get me?"

"Dead," Prime intoned flatly.

"Exactly. And definitely not rich."

Prime nodded, and looked down at him. "What did you have in mind for her? I'm . . . interested."

"I'm not sure. There's a lot of resentment towards her comrades. I'm seeing how far it goes, how much I can use it."

"When you're done, give her to Perceptor. I hate to waste good metal."

"No, don't worry. I'm not wasteful like that," Bandit replied with a low laugh. "Although, speaking of waste, I thought your time was valuable. I must say, I'm surprised it took this long to get back to you. I've been meeting her for at least an Earth month now." He glanced over at Hound, briefly, then back at Prime. "I should think that your recon people were a bit more efficient than that."

Hound's optics almost looked like they widened, and then he snarled, taking a step forward, his shoulders coming up menacingly. The look on his scarred face was one of pure, sheer loathing.

Prime glanced over at Hound, then back at the patiently waiting Bandit. "You bring up a good point. Dismissed, Bandit."

Bandit bowed, respectfully, and headed for the door. Hound took a step to follow him.

"Wait. I would speak to you in private, Hound."

The tracker looked up, realization slowly dawning.

Bandit shut the door behind him, but not before he heard the sound of something massive striking metal.

Bandit drove up to their appointed meeting spot a few days later.

Dart looked over, and actually smiled, almost looking relieved. "Gone long while, thought go home."

"No. Not so lucky," he mumbled.

"No? Am sorry."

"Yeah, me too. I miss home so bad. . . .  Hey, you know Hound? The Autobot Tracker?"

She crossed her arms and let out a low snort. "Yes. Stupid."

"Very," he agreed, "and he doesn't like me."

"No?"

"I have no idea why," he told her, shaking his head.

"Simple. Nasty. You . . . okay?"

He nodded, smiled. "Yeah, he may be a good tracker, but I can still keep ahead of him."

Dart growled softly. "Not that good," she dismissed. "Better. Sniff yes. But smart too."

He laughed. "How about you? How are things?"

"Okay. Guess . . ." she trailed off and shifted her weight uneasily from foot to foot. "Stupid Decepticons too. Trying to stay away. Not want."

"Oh. . . ."

He looked at her and shook his head quietly, his golden eyes sympathetic from inside the black mask. She whined, softly.

"Insane, say. Not stupid. Can't talk yes . . . but hear fine."

Bandit looked at her and grimaced. "That's not right. They have no right to treat you that way."

"No. Not after . . ." she looked at him, whined again. "I do what asked. I do. I run. . . ."

"Exactly. Dart, they can't ask any more of you. You fight for them, you spill your fuel for them, suffer for them, and they treat you like something less than they are . . . don't they?"

She glanced up, and then she nodded. Quickly and sharply, as if she was afraid to be caught making the gesture.

"Well, that's just not right," he said quietly.

Dart immediately whined, looking back down at the ground.

"Is life. Stay. Good dog." Her head lifted suddenly, her optics turning a bright, icy blue. “Not need pity. Not. Not need . . . his, either." Her voice stumbled into a ragged snarl. He knew, somehow, who she was talking about. Starscream revived her . . . he's the one that holds her loyalty, the one she follows. I get the feeling she could care less about any of the rest of the Decepticons. A one mech turbohound, to use that old phrase.

"No. No you don't. You're stronger than that. But that doesn't mean . . . you don't deserve more."

"More?"

She backed off, then, a little unsure.

"No no . . . deserve this . . . should go."

Bandit shook his head, his optics crestfallen, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm . . . sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"No, no. Is okay. Is all right. Just . . . am . . . save humans." The worlds tumbled from her now, rising and falling like a dog's frightened growl. "All of you. Go home. Go home. Faster war over, faster heals. Forests come back. People safe. Animals safe." She stood there, starting to tremble, her spoiler rattling against her back, then she pawed the ground with a foot. "Should go, think. Am sorry, Bandit. Careful Hound. Kill you in sleep."

"I will be. You too."

"Okay."

Dart turned and broke into that graceful easy lope that carried her out of sight quickly. Bandit stood there, feeling a stray pebble bounce off of his shin, and then he felt . . . something. An eerie feeling . . . a sense of. . . .

I'm being watched. All right, where are you, you psychotic green beast. Quickly, he cast his powers out, searching for . . . there you are. Ah, Hound. You're about as subtle as a proton bomb. Bandit snorted softly, lightly skimming across Hound's mind. Hate. A thirst for revenge. The cobalt transformer dug farther into the memories, searching for something else. Ah, yes . . . that's it. . . .  The feeling of Prime's fist, striking Hound's mid-section, the hot blossom of fuel in his mouth . . . humiliation. Bandit replayed the humiliation for a moment, turning it over and over, amplifying it to savor as he continued through Hound's processor. That urge to kill, ripping Bandit from limb to limb . . . right now. . . .  That deep need to cut and rend and strike over and over at his prey . . . Bandit let go, shook himself to get rid of that unnatural feeling, and then his optics burned an angry, pale gold.

Bandit's mind reached out, like a cobra coiling to strike. Everything in him urged to let go, to lash out with such power and force that Hound would be screaming like a Decepticon in an Autobot arena . . . but then the Neutral stopped, and through sheer force of will, drew back as he realized something.

Right now, at this point, the only thing keeping Hound from attempting to attack me full out is that fear of being thumped again by his Lord Prime. Hmm. I'm not interested in attempting to contact Magnus to get me off world . . . it would cost me too dearly, and I hate to be indebted. Much as I'd like to, this is not the moment to make Hound gibber and lay in a puddle of his own coolant. I'll just do this. . . .

The cobalt Transformer reached out his mind, poked the scarred green tracker with a sharp reminder of Prime's fist smashing into Hound's body. He heard Hound's screeching howl ring out over the rubble and instantly, he transformed and sped off, leaving the tracker to deal with the memories he'd forced.

Two sides of the coin, then. Dart's at least a noble beast . . . this one just enjoys killing for the sake of doing so. Peh. I know which one I'd rather have at my side. A dog is only as good as his master, and Hound's master is nothing more than a petty dictator with delusions of ruling the universe. No imagination on that one, honestly. There are too many other petty dictators out to stop you. I'm content with what I am, thank you, and it's much more profitable.

Bandit lifted his head in the darkness from his recharge berth, and sat up, looking around.

He'd gone back to his quarters earlier that evening, still trying to calm down from his earlier encounter with Hound. Silently, he'd sat at the small table in his quarters, drinking from a cup, the energon sliding into his system with a warmth that he really didn't feel. A quick flick of his wrist and he tossed the contents into the air, catching it absentmindedly with the cup. Not one glowing drop struck the table, and he did it again and again, an exercise in agility and timing that relaxed him and cleared his mind of all of the thoughts from the day. A last flash of the glowing liquid and he caught it, tossed the last of the energon into his mouth, and twirled the empty cup on his finger.

Slowly, he'd gotten up, crossed to the door, and looked at the locking mechanism. Then he flicked up his wrist, a small compartment opening as two tools fell easily into his palm. Bandit had tapped the lock lightly with a finger tip, and then set to carefully taking it apart, crossing wires carefully and jamming it in a way so that only he could open the door from the inside. Then he'd walked back to the recharge berth and settled in with a sigh.

I'm never over cautious, and that's how I've stayed functional, he thought, listening to the faint rasp of metal on metal outside of his door. He heard something press the keys, in the proper sequence to open the lock, and the lock made a whirring noise, clamping the doors together harder.

Bandit sat there, his amber optics shining in the darkness, as he half-smiled to himself.

Then he reached out mentally, knowing somehow what he'd find before he even touched it.

That animalistic urge to kill, feeling cobalt paint peel back under the silver scrape of the razor edge of a fuel encrusted knife . . . how good it would feel to pin Bandit and slowly remove his life limb by limb.

Bandit laughed, softly.

I've seen this plot before. It's one that seems to be offered around here with boring regularity. Go away, Lord Prime's pet, before . . . hmm. Wait a moment. I seem to have missed a point here . . . maybe I'm looking at this all wrong.

Bandit skimmed Hound's thoughts, past the red haze, past the images that flickered constantly in the tracker's memory. A knife here, the scream of a Decepticon jet dying off with a choked, desperate gurgle, the howl of the now-renegade sniper Bluestreak as he attempted to fall back from the tracker and defend himself. Bandit's lip curled back at the unnecessary violence. Again, about as subtle as a jetliner crash and with as much sense of getting the point across. All he does is make his victims angry and then forgets to dispose of them. It will cost you, Hound . . . hmm. Where there's this dog . . . there's his master. Let's see, shall we?

Ah. As I suspected.

The permission hung there in that fog of bloodlust and need, Lord Prime's silent commands for Hound to kill him, allowing the green tracker his fun and at the same time removing something he saw to be a threat . . . as long as it didn't lead the energon trail back to Prime's clean hands. He doesn't trust me or Magnus . . . and he sees me as a plant . . . so he'll see if he can kill me to warn Magnus off. Ah Prime. I never betray a contract . . . you paid for your information, you asked for my help, and since I had to be here anyway, I thought the least I could offer was to inform Magnus of exactly the situation here at your base. Both of you could do what you wanted with the information given . . . but now. Like I said, I never betray a contract . . . unless they betray me first.

The thief chuckled softly to himself, listening to Hound scratch and snarl his rage at the door. A moment later, a hissing sound rose, the sound of acid being dripped on the keypad.

Hmm. Not nice.

He clamped down on Hound's thoughts, wrenching through that rage and feral hate, diving past the hurt and the humiliation, slithering down to where the barest shreds of reason lingered.

Kill him. Make Thief pay, rip his . . . the thoughts trailed off into a string of crude curses, running into each other like water. Bandit inclined his head calmly, and then struck at Hound's pain receptors, full force.

Hound howled, clattering away from the panel like a kicked cur. Bandit enjoyed it, and toyed with him for a moment, letting the tracker twist and claw at himself as every wound Hound had ever received seemed to reopen and tear into his body at once. For a moment, Bandit almost thought the tracker was unconscious, but Hound staggered back onto his hands and knees, casting around, knives clutched in his fingers as he struggled up, snarling furiously. Bandit realized that pain meant nothing to this mechanism. Like a fighting dog, the pain only increased the desire to kill.

Bandit sighed, reached over for his communications panel and pressed the button for security.

"Security," came back Springer's rough voice.

"I've got a problem here." Bandit offered.

"Yeah well, don't we all," Springer laughed crudely. Bandit wondered if he was overcharged again. It wouldn't have surprised him in the slightest.

"Springer, I need someone to come down here and tell whatever it is to stop trying to open my door."

"What's the matter? You're the big shot Neutral. You figure it out. Or are you scared?"

"Hardly," Bandit snapped. "At the moment, I'm getting rather annoyed. With you. I mean it. Get someone down here because I really don't want to have to shoot whoever's on the other side of my door. No one ever comes to clean up any mess down here, and I'm not interested in stepping over a rusting corpse for the rest of my delightful stay at Hotel Psyche Ward."

Springer snorted. "Just for that, I'm not calling anyone. Deal with it yourself, you little weasel."

Bandit sighed, his optics gleaming amber and then hot gold. "I'll remember your oh so helpful suggestions, thank you." He poked the call button sharply and hung up on Springer, debated, and then poked the button again.

"Springer here."

"Get me Prowl."

His voice modulator had shifted in between sentences. For where Bandit's slight, almost British accent had been was now Perceptor's dry, smooth tones.

No one talked back to Perceptor, not even over energized green idiots.

"Y-yes sir. Patching you through now," Springer stammered.

Bandit chuckled to himself as the line was picked up.

"Prowl . . . and this better be good."

Bandit sighed. "I can't say it is, Prowl."

"Bandit?" Prowl actually snapped off his annoyance like a light. "What is it?"

"I hate to be a bother. But it seems someone is trying to get into my room. While I'm here." Out of the entire crew, they and Jazz are the only one's I care to think of as in charge. Ah well, one can always hope they'll build another ship and crash into some other planet and we can all get another four million years of being allowed to go about our own business, ‘eh Magnus?

"Well, is it someone you want?" came a low, feminine chuckle that Bandit recognized as Nightwind's voice.

"Considering the snarling and whatnot, I don't think so."

Nightwind actually laughed again, and even Prowl managed to let out a little snort of mirth. "Understood. I'll ask Jazz to grab Scopeshot and check it out."

"Very much appreciated. And you both have a lovely evening," Bandit said politely, ending the call. He waited a few minutes, and then he sensed two other minds padding down the passage, weapons drawn. Hound's red blur of rage turned and looked, snarled . . . and then left his door in a hurry, taking off down the darkened passage. Bandit felt Hound have a moment of utter despondency - he'd failed again - and then the shame turned to something livid . . . hate and now a determination to finish the thief off that was like crystal in it's clarity.

Well, if the only way to get him to stop hating me is to let him kill me . . . I suppose he'll just have to keep hating me. Idiot.

The river was churning, brown silt thrown up to crash against the embankments, the white froth swirling and whirling around the rocks as Bandit and Dart sat quietly on the edge of the bank, looking down.

"Shh," she said, putting her finger to her lips. "Almost here."

He nodded, and was silent as from a mangled thicket of trees stepped a lithe brown shadow, followed by two more. The deer were wary, taking slight mincing steps on legs that looked too fragile to support them as they edged towards the water. One stopped to nibble off the tops of a few dried withered stalks of grass, the cupped ears flicking back and forth, alert to every sound as the two others went to sip up a few mouthfuls of the muddy river.

Dart smiled, cobalt optics dark in her grey face. "See. Deer."

"I see them. I didn't know there were any left around here."

"Here, yes. Not everything destroyed."

He smiled and watched the deer, then turned his gaze back to where she sat, her elbows leaning on her knees, the look on her face one of raw wonder at the animals going about their business below.

I can feel her confidence in the Decepticons wane with each time we meet. She's angry, and bitter, and resentful of what they consider her. She does deserve better than what they offer her, and I could give her so much more. She's useful, smart . . . takes orders without question. And we think both sides of this war are full of fools, so we're really not that different in outlook. Hmm. I could find a position for her in my organization. I've always needed a loyal bodyguard, and with her senses, she could prove herself easily useful in that respect. But how to get her to come with me . . . how could I get her back to Cybertron? Something keeps her here, I know, and her loyalties run very deep. Something . . . or someone keeps her with the Decepticons, and I can't break that leash, no matter how hard I try. It's something she'll just have to unchain herself.

"You know, it's nice to see animals here. Back home, there aren't many left."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The war kind of did them in. And encroachment of habitat. The normal every universe growing civilization things."

She looked over at him, her ponytail brushing her neck guard. "Oh. Where live?"

"On Cybertron? You don't remember much about it, do you?"

A hesitant shake. "No. Not much. Woke up here. Earth."

"Yeah, the download, right. I remember that. Personality downloaded for travel, but they didn't find you in time before . . . well, hey, neither here nor there. Back to Cybertron. Beautiful planet. Or was before the war hit. I lived in the lower districts."

"Did? What do?"

"What did I do? For a living, you mean?"

A nod.

"Um . . . I still do. I kind of . . . run an association of neutrals. We manage okay, despite the war."

She inclined her head and looked at him, a spark of interest in her optics, the deer forgotten as they nibbled on the foliage below. "Do?"

"Yeah. I do. That's why I took the job here, to see what had gone on with the Autobots since they landed."

"Not much. Still evil."

He laughed, and shook his head, tipping the brim of his helmet down. "Yeah, they are. You'll never guess what happened a few weeks ago this time."

"Hound?"

She growled as she spat out the tracker's name, her optics glimmering azure.

"No. Even better, Optimus Prime, their fearless leader. We went rounds. A verbal fencing match, so to speak. I told him Hound was getting intolerable, and what's he do?" Bandit's optics flared molten gold, and his shoulders quivered briefly, metal rattling against metal. "He tells me he'd always heard I was capable of taking care of myself."

Dart snorted. "What do?"

"I just told him that, ‘fine, just remember I came to you first.' And he dismissed me, the arrogant piece of rust."

"Oh. Lucky all did," she replied quietly. She sat up, popped open a panel on her hip, and drew out a palm sized, glowing cube. Bandit knew what it was . . . a poor quality energon cube, more unstable than the Autobots own containers. She offered it to him, silently, holding it out on her fingers like a gift, her optics concerned. It wasn't much, perhaps just a little taste, but Bandit knew it was probably what was left of whatever she'd had to recharge on, and she held it out like it was something special.

He didn't reach for it, and she started to fidget, then looked up at him and started to withdraw her hand. "Not want. . . ?"

Instantly, he shook his head, and reached forward, taking the cube gently from her fingers. "Oh, thank you. Sorry, I was just thinking to myself, and I didn't mean to be impolite."

She smiled, shyly. "Can share. Not much, but. . . ."

"Thank you," he smiled, as he brought the cube to his mouth and sipped. The energon had a sharp, under processed taste that nearly made him spit it out. The last time I energized on something that crude I can't remember. No wonder the Decepticons look tired all the time. He smiled, though and drank part of it before he handed it back to her.

"Welcome," she told him. "You okay? Seem upset."

"Yeah. I . . . I guess I'm just so damn sick of them all."

"Same."

"I'll bet. You know, there's a lot of mechanisms on Cybertron who agree with us."

She looked down at the river, her shoulders slumping a little.

"Hey, did I say something wrong?" he asked, glancing over at her, a worried note creeping into his voice.

"Go home? Soon?"

"Oh. No, I don't know. They're not going to send a special shuttle just for me. I'll have to wait until the next supply run."

"When is?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, they don't tell us Neutrals stuff like that. Meanwhile, Hound has taken to constantly stalking me." He put his head in his hands, pressed his fingers to his temples. "It's a good thing I know how to jam locks, otherwise I think I'd be dead by now."

Her whole body stiffened, the servos in her shoulders making little popping noises under the tension. "Dead? You? Why for?"

"I don't know why. They're crazy and stupid. Like you said, Hound would kill me in my sleep."

She growled, the sound rolling up through her chest to reverberate through the air, incredibly menacing. The deer below looked up, ears flicking frantically, and then bounded off into the brush with high, startled leaps, their long black tails showing the white underside in warning.

Bandit jerked a little, seemingly surprised.

Dart caught herself, winced, and threw him an apologetic glance, shaking her head. "No. No. . . . Stupid Hound." She hesitated, and then looked at the cobalt blue Transformer next to her. "Neutral, yes?"

"Yeah, I am, but what's that. . . ."

She held up her hand, stopping him. "Come back with? Decepticons not fair, admit. But not kill you."

"Come with you? To the Decepticons?" A flash of hope, excitement flickered over his face, and then slowly, it vanished, leaving him looking incredibly crestfallen.

"Oh. No . . . won't work. They can't get me back home."

"Oh," she whined. "Yes. Home."

He looked at her. "Oh, it was a good idea, Dart. I would, because I trust you, you know, but they don't have shuttles. I'd be stuck here, and then the Autobots would kill me. They don't deal lightly with deserters, even ones that aren't with their army."

She set her mouth plates into her lip and nodded slowly. "Understand. Thought offer. Would help, honest. . .." she trailed off, looking back at the churning river. The glass of her optics reflected the grey silt.

Gently, Bandit shook his head. "Thank you."

She managed to smile faintly. "Wish do more. Not want see you dead."

Bandit laughed a fraction. "Believe me. That's something we have in common."

"Yes?" she cocked her head, gave him a quizzical look.

Sheepishly, he laughed again. "Yeah, not seeing me dead."

"Know. Understand."

Dart got slowly to her feet. "Should go back," she told him, hesitating longer than she ever had before. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't want you to get into trouble because of me."

The courier shook her head, ponytail flashing. "No. Am in already. Is okay."

Bandit stood up also, concern on his face, but she shook her head again. "Not you. Me. Just me. Not do anything right. Try . . . but not like them."

"Not by them, you mean," he gently told her.

"Yes," she mumbled, looking at the ground. She pawed at it with a foot, sending dirt in an arc behind her.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out a hand as if to touch her shoulder, then withdrawing it nervously as she backed up away from the gesture like a dog who'd been hit one too many times.

"Am for you too," she replied, looking at him sadly. She turned, and started to trot away.

"Wait!" he called, the word breaking out of his processor with more force than he'd been expecting. She instantly halted, dirt upthrust around the curve of her foot as if she was a rodeo pony sliding into a stop, peered back.

"I . . ." he sighed, hesitated, and then the words spilled out of him in a rush. "You wouldn't come with me, would you? To Cybertron?"

"Come with you? When? How?" she spun on her foot, quivering a little, shifting nervously. "Yes. Oh no. No. Go . . . no one . . . here to protect humans."

"I don't know. I might be able to sneak you onto the shuttle . . ." he trailed off. "Yeah, you're right."

"Am? Oh. But . . . not human. If go, figure out way to make stop. All war. Go back all Cybertron, yes?"

"I'd like to try," he offered. "But I don't know if we have it in our power to do that."

She glanced up. "Anyone do, you. Good thinker."

Bandit looked at her, threw his shoulders back, squared himself determinedly. "There's no need for another world to get ruined by this stupid war."

Her optics sparkled, a bright, shining blue at his words, and she fidgeted and sighed. There was a last moment where she turned and looked back to some unseen point on the horizon, and then he almost thought he heard the sound of a chain unsnapping . . . so obvious was her final decision. "Yes. Can take . . . me with? Will go . . . if can help. Yes?"

The cobalt Transformer looked at her, and then nodded quickly, the emotions of her excitement catching him up and making him smile. "I'm sure we can do something. I can sneak you on the shuttle, once I know when it's leaving."

Dart grinned and danced from foot to foot. "Go with you."

"Will you?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes," she said firmly, decisively. "Not wanted here. Not listen to me anyway. Am not less than they are. Not stupid or vicious. Not worthless, no?"

Bandit sensed a sudden flare of anger. He inclined his head, confused briefly until he realized it wasn't hers, as white hot and sharp as a knife . . . this was a bludgeon of red washing every thought. Hound. And he's close. Dammit, not now. Not now. His head turned quickly, the golden optics concerned in their black mask. Hmm. This is a different tactic. He's gotten smarter . . . he can't kill me directly, so he's going to try and shoot me from a distance. He felt himself tensing, his head turning slightly from left to right, trying to pinpoint where the tracker was.

Dart's head inclined, and instantly, she picked up on Bandit's body language. She dropped into a crouch, a low growl bubbling up from her vocalizer. One knife blade slid out from behind her wrist, and her eyes burned a sharp, hot azure as she turned her head, nose in the wind, sniffing. The low growl rose a little as she scanned the area, and then her optics seemed to narrow.

"Nearby . . ." she muttered, the words reverberating with her canine warning.

"Yeah . . ." he replied. "He wants to kill me. He must have followed me." Bandit shifted nervously, wondering where the first shot would come from, trying to turn and twist a little so that his head was protected by his shoulder. "You might want to get out of here, okay? I don't want him to hurt you."

Dart snarled. "Not hurt me. Faster."

He felt her anger then, overreaching Hound's bloodlust. It was as always, a lance of silver against the red wounds of Hound's mind. Bandit found himself idly casting out, his mind reacting automatically to see if it was a chink in the mental armor she had. Pure, feral rage there, just waiting for the release command, easy to follow back in to her mind through her chaotic thoughts. She sees Hound as a threat. . . .  I think there's dislike because they are so similar, and disgust for that reason too. . . .  What's this? Hmm. She's so terribly fragmented . . . this is difficult. Wait. His hand tightened, fingers flexing a little, and then his optics flared that bright, rich gold, his frame tightening a little. She doesn't want me to get hurt? She doesn't want me to get hurt. That's it. . . .

He closed in on that, carefully, and she paid no attention, her full focus riveted on Hound.

It's because I'm not disgusted with her . . . I don't pity her.

Bandit's concentration wove in carefully, forgetting Hound, forgetting the risk of not keeping his attention on that red ooze of hate.

That's a girl . . . easy now. . . .

Like a fox in a burrow, he slipped down deep into her chaos, twisting it a little, attempting to leave himself a path he could follow back if necessary. Never know when it might come in handy to have . . . careful now, don't want to startle her, or tip her senses off to my presence . . . but she's so focused on Hound I don't think she'd notice if someone threw a proton bomb under her right now. He gave the pathway one last careful tweak and then snapped back to attention just as she looked up at him.

"Go now!" she barked. "Now."

Bandit shook his head. "No . . . I don't want to leave you."

She laughed, a little bit of pride creeping into her voice. "Can outrun that one. Standing still. Go. Hurry."

He looked at her. "Okay . . . but . . . be careful," he begged her. "For me?"

Dart tossed her head like a playful horse, blew out a snort of air. "Careful, yes." A grin flashed across her face, a smile of excitement and pride as she leapt forward, moving at her top speed within five strides. Bandit transformed an instant later, revved his engine and shot down the road, his mind casting out to feel that red sullen rage that was Hound suddenly lose focus as the courier attacked, never getting close enough to close with him. One of her knives barely brushed his green, boxy shoulder, scratching away the paint there. Hound roared, his mind a sudden lash of confusion that Bandit found himself laughing at.

Dart was exulting in her speed, dancing away, drawing off the lumbering Hound; a sn snapping, nimble wolf against a bear. A slash here, a sliding strike there, most of them missing but confusing the tracker, making him try to defend himself; he turned his rage off of Bandit and onto this other, more pressing threat. The courier made one final pass, slapping Hound with the flat of one blade, a dismissive gesture of utter disdain before she bounded off, leaving the tracker snarling in fury and rage.

Bandit continued to drive as fast as possible away, and wasn't surprised when the black and greyTrans-Am came off a side road and slipped into place a little behind him.

"Done," she snickered. "Was fun. Was okay?"

"Yes," he told her. "Was great. Thank you. You might have saved my life. . . ."

"No no." she brushed off his comment politely. "Too stupid to kill you."

"Heh."

The black car winked one headlight. Then she stalled a little, backed off a few feet. "Have to go back. . . .  Calling me in."

"Okay . . . I'll let you know when I know the shuttle's going back?"

A faint twitch from the tires made her hood bob up and down. "Okay. Be careful."

"You too."

Dart pulled off at the next side street, the black car's red tail lights swallowed by the shadows of the buildings.

Bandit headed back towards the Ark.

Well . . . hmmm. I managed to get into that jumble of hers . . . purely by accident, I think. I can't do much . . . but perhaps it might be possible to manipulate the raw emotions there. Enough to do something in a pinch. But I can't see any reason to ever have to do it. She . . . genuinely likes me. And that's always more reliable then any control I could ever hope to impose with force. Oddly enough, he found himself thinking of that slight tilt of the courier's head, that faint grin of mischief and animalistic innocence, and he smiled a little to himself. She'll make me a very nice bodyguard, I think. It will be different to have a femme in that position and I shall so enjoy the conversation with Magnus when he comes to speak to me next time and sees what I brought back with me from this assignment. Her body style is a type not seen often around Cybertron. The closest thing I've ever seen was Blurr, and Dart is much more pleasing to the optic, I suppose.

Bandit sat at his table in his quarters and sighed to himself.

Well, that could have gone so much better. Not bad, but so much better.

He'd gone to check out the secondary shuttle bay, a sort of repair faculty for the smaller ships. It had fairly minimal security there, since of course, who would be stupid enough to steal a shuttle from Lord Prime? The only ones on duty had been Blaster and Scopeshot of Team Omega, relegated to a bit of boring guard duty after one of their myriad attacks on each other had turned into a free for all in the main bay and someone had put an elbow through Teletran-One. He'd heard them once referred to as Team Megajerk . . . he couldn't remember where, but he was sure that whomever had told him that probably hadn't said it in their presence, since they were still alive. Bandit had slipped past them while they were busy smacking each other again.

Sigh. Prime's team is too busy fighting with each other, the Decepticons are too weak willed . . . this war is going to go on forever.

He at least had figured out where a small ship was, one that he actually knew how to operate, and it was actually fueled and ready, having just been repaired. It was a little more cramped than he would have liked, but it would be good enough to get him and Dart off planet. The trick of course, was not taking it . . . it was getting it off planet without being shot down.

His black fingers tapped against the table as he sorted out his thoughts.

I need a distraction. Something that keeps the Autobots watching it and not me . . . but what. . . .

The rain was accompanied by a driving wind that made it patter sideways against his cobalt metal as he leaned against the shell of an old building. He looked out across the shattered street, water dripping from the point in the front of his helmet. He didn't care that it was late, that the evening had brought the black clouds and cold rain. Instead, he just stood, arms crossed, frowning a little.

Headlights shone, the rain passing in front of them like silver stars. Slowly, the darkness transformed behind them and became the courier. Dart fidgeted, whined, shaking herself like a dog, water spraying through water as she trotted up in front of him and stood, looking down at him with concern.

"Is late," she told him softly.

"Yeah, I know."

"Okay?"

"I - I don't know. I'm just on edge."

"On edge? Yes. Always know."

Bandit passed a hand over his mask, wiping off the rain from his optics. "I think they don't plan on sending me back."

"No? Why?" she wondered, her voice breaking a little to growl.

"Honestly. Too much trouble, since I'm just a Neutral, I'm expendable. I think they'll just end up giving me to their ‘repair bay' to play with."

Dart growled now, deep and angry. "Not nice. Not fair at all."

A faint chuckle escaped him. "No, probably not, but I stopped keeping track of what's supposed to be fair ages ago. It's not a fair universe."

Rain dripped off of her and she shook herself again. "No." she said, flatly. "Am sorry."

He looked at her. "Me too."

She fidgeted a little, and then she sighed as if it cost her much to say what she did after. "Not important I go. You. You go home."

He looked at her and smiled slightly. "I'm not sure how."

"Not know. Wish did."

Bandit looked down at the rain slicked concrete, watched the puddles ebb away under his feet. "Hmm. I know that the Autobots have a secondary shuttle bay. I don't think it's as guarded as the main bay."

"Do?" she asked.

"Yeah, I read it on one of their manifests," he told her.

"Could go there?"

Slowly, he nodded, hope turning his optics deep gold, the color of light through a jar of honey. "Yes. And you could still go with me."

"Could? Know how to . . . fly?" Dart asked, shifting uncomfortably. "Don't."

"Yeah, I know how to well enough. I could get us from Earth to Cybertron. It might be cramped, but . . . we'd make it."

When?"

"Hmm. Probably at the end of a security shift . . . that's when guards are always laziest. I'll meet you back here tomorrow. Tonight, I'll try and figure out how the security shifts are laid out."

"Tomorrow," she repeated. "Time?"

"Dusk."

"Okay. Be here. Wait for you. Good, yes?"

Bandit nodded. "It's fantastic. Thank you."

"Welcome," she said, smiling even through the rain and the darkness.

Bandit limped into his quarters, shutting the door behind him and flicking the keypad to lock before he sat down heavily on his recharger. His fingers came up to explore the hole in his shoulder and he winced. I should have gone with my first instinct and avoided the hit, but I had to make it look like I was as surprised as the rest of them when Hound led us right into that Decepticon ambush. Heh. They put so much stock into his skills that it was easy to throw him off, mislead him a little into thinking he had nothing to be concerned about, and have the rest of the Autobots ignore all the other warning signs. Prowl caught it right before it would have become deadly . . . and I don't know what bothered Prime more, the fact that his best tracker missed all the signs, or the fact that it was Prowl's warning that saved most of the Autobots from spending a lot of time in repair bay.

Ah well, it worked beautifully, that's what matters. Hound is on Prime's list, and I'm blameless.

Although, I do think Nightwind and Prowl know exactly what happened. He chuckled a little to himself, and winced again as he pulled a bit of shrapnel out of his shoulder. Good for them. I'm sure it worked out to their advantage, somehow, and that will help keep any . . . questions from getting very far. Besides, Prime isn't exactly . . . pleased. Everyone knows to keep out of his way when he's like this, and no one will bring up a single thing . . . except me. . . .

He picked the last shreds of shrapnel from his shoulder and got to his feet, squared his shoulders and unlocked the door, heading down into the depths of the ship where the great doors stood. Slowly, he reached out and knocked, the sound ringing hollowly off of his knuckles. The door opened, and Prime's optics burned from his seat on the dias as he sat there, the black mental fury roiling around him like a hurricane.

Bandit stepped slowly in, bowed stiffly and respectfully.

"Lord Prime, forgive the intrusion."

Prime's head raised slightly, and Bandit saw his massive fingers tighten on the arm of his throne. The metal underneath that grip groaned and cracked in protest. Then the masked visage turned and looked directly at the Neutral before him.

"I'm not in a patient mood."

"I know. It's been rather . . . a trying day."

"You could say that," Prime rumbled, his fist clenching and unclenching.

Bandit sighed, shifted from foot to foot quietly. "Hound has been . . . rather sloppy lately, don't you think."

Prime's optics seemed to narrow, and then he snorted. "You are correct. Sloppy. I need to teach him a lesson, I think."

"Maybe I can help you out there . . ." Bandit began, brushing a little bit of dirt off of his chest plate, his golden optics clouded amber behind his mask. "I've . . . gotten a little . . . bored with my own diversions here."

"That Decepticon femme?" Prime chuckled, tilting his head slightly, his anger sliding off a little as his curiosity was aroused. "Their femmes are rather . . . boring. No fight in them."

Bandit shrugged, trying to hide his disgust with the wave of near-lust that rose from the Autobot leader. "My interest in her was never really like that," he countered. "I just found her strange . . . but the novelty has worn off. I do think she could slice Hound up a bit."

"Hmm." The Autobot leader pressed his fingertips together in a steeple. "Interesting. This could prove a short diversion from the boredom lately, and kill one of the Decepticon femmes at the same time. They are so . . . overprotective of them, too. Hound could use the exercise, as well."

"And like you said, the troops could use a little diversion."

Prime snorted again. "I think your little femme would drop dead in the first ten seconds. Hardly worth my time or trouble to bother with."

Bandit shrugged. "She's fast. That should make it a bit challenging. Plus, I get the feeling she . . . can be a savage little thing when pressed."

"Where exactly do you propose to do this? Here?"

"Hmm. Probably not . . . somewhere away from here. If she gets loose, for some reason, you don't want her free in your base."

Prime laughed darkly, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "We could destroy her easily."

Bandit nodded, resting his finger thoughtfully on his chin. "You could, but do you really trust your people that much? All it would take is one of them to slip up and she could cause significant damage in a confined space like this."

"Hardly," Prime scoffed. "But . . . you are correct in one account. Erring on the side of caution is good. Plus, she could draw the Decepticons here to save her, and they tend to fight with everything they have when their own are in danger."

Bandit looked up, feigning incredulity. "I . . . hadn't thought of that. But then again, I never claimed to be a military tactician."

Prime chuckled. "Of course you aren't. So . . . when?"

"Tomorrow. Just after dusk."

"Hmm. I do so want to see this. Maybe I should accompany you when you get her."

"Respectfully, no. She won't come with me if you're there."

"Then perhaps you don't have as good a grip on her as you thought."

Bandit's optics flashed amber again, and then he shrugged. "Not so much that. Your presence would terrify her from the start, overriding anything I've managed to build up."

Prime chuckled again, and Bandit sighed to himself. What is it with these universe-dominating types? A slight bow to their egos and they lose all sense of reality.

Bandit continued, "I thought, perhaps, that if I could bring her to a prearranged place, where you and those you wanted to watch, along with Hound, of course, could be waiting . . . she's like an animal in many ways. Give her a battle with another she hates and who hates her . . . and the natural reaction will be. . . ."

Prime leaned forward a little. "Ah, yes. Well, do you have a place in mind?"

Oh this will . . . be . . . easy. Too easy. Sigh . . . Magnus, you did have many good points about this Prime. He brought out a little data pad, a slice of a holographic map floating in the air before the Autobot leader.

"I had in mind a place. . . ." Not far from the base, but closer to the secondary shuttles that we should be able to get out of there easily. I get the thing started up, and she can run there, leap on and we'll be gone before they can react. This is all coming together nicely. "And . . . perhaps, if you have no objections . . . I might start . . . taking wagers."

Prime looked down at him, and then low laughter rolled up from that shadow on the throne.

"Ah that's what it all comes down to . . . how much a life is worth, eh?"

"That's the universe we live in, isn't it, Lord Prime?"

The Autobot leader laughed again, and reached down. Bandit tensed, seeing those massive fingers going towards the barrel of his gun. This isn't good. I can't even think of controlling this one . . . he's far too willful to even make an attempt . . . hopefully I can dodge fast.

Prime's hand swept over the arm of his throne, and something landed at Bandit's feet.

A cred chip, glowing pale white.

"Put me down for a thousand on Hound. I don't think your little courier stands a chance."

Bandit nodded and scooped up the coin, letting it flip through his fingers before he tucked it away. "All right."

Prime chuckled one last time. "Dismissed."

Bandit bowed and left.

Walking back to his quarters, Hound suddenly burst out in front of him optics a cold, bitter blue.

He quivered, his scarred face twisting into a snarl that wasn't even remotely humanoid as he stared down at Bandit. Bandit looked up, calmly.

"I see Prime's given you the word that you're supposed to obey me for a bit."

The tracker growled, something green oozing out of his mouth. It hissed when it struck the floor between his feet.

Bandit shrugged. "Just don't kill me and be there at the appointed time. That's all I need from you."

Hound snorted, his hands going to his knives as he looked pointedly at Bandit's throat. He took a step forward, menacingly, his shoulders dipping as he rose up on the tips of his feet, a light gesture for something so blocky and large.

"Ah ah. I said don't kill me. Don't is a contraction of do not. You need to study more."

Hound snarled, raised a knife. Bandit's optics shone gold, and he tensed.

"Hey!" Jazz called out, as cheerful as ever as he waved to them. Hound hissed and spun, striding off as fast as he could down another passage.

Nice timing, Jazz. I owe you one.

"Sorry about that, Bandito. I just saw you and figured I'd ask who to bet on. I figured I'd get the scoop from the Bookie directly."

Bandit smiled. "Well, news travels fast in this hell hole. I think the odds are going to end up around four to one in Hound's favor."

Jazz laughed. "Well, I like to buck the odds. So I'll put a little on her. You think she's at all capable of scoring a hit?"

"Honestly? She's fast enough to cut him a few times, slow him down enough to sever a fuel line . . . I've just been going to put the odds on Hound because he'll be the favorite."

Jazz grinned, the blue visor shining. "Well, put my money on her for the first fuel drawn, then," he told Bandit.

"Gotcha. Will do."

Bandit looked at the pile of credits on the table in front of him, flipping them lightly with a finger as he sorted them out by denomination. He reached over and picked up the thousand credit token from Prime, turned it over through his knuckles, faster and faster until it was a blur. Then he casually flipped it into the air, caught it and sorted it neatly into the stacks.

He stood up and placed the credits into a little compartment on the side of his arm, his optics gleaming a soft gold as he left his quarters, walking down until he was outside of the main monitoring station. He peeked around the corner and saw both the massive bulk of Springer's green metal, and Arcee's slender pink and white frame, both of them with their backs turned to him. He chuckled and rapped lightly on the metal frame of the door, making them both jump and spin to face him. Arcee's face twisted into a snarl, Springer's instantly doing the same. Well, that's the first time I've seen those two agree on anything.

"Hey there," he said casually, letting a light, cheerful grin spread across his face.

"Get out of here, Thief," Arcee spat.

"Yeah, get out of here before I break your head, weasel," Springer echoed, slamming his fist into his palm.

Bandit chuckled, and stepped into the room, his golden optics flashing from behind the black mask. "Break my head? Well, that's rather counterproductive. Then I wouldn't be able to ask you for a simple little favor, would I?"

"Favor?" Springer wondered.

Arcee stiffened, and then reached for her pistol. "We don't need any favors from you, you little cobalt creep."

Bandit sighed. "Oh well, so much for asking nicely."

His mind lashed out, plunged into both of their heads as easily as a scalpel cutting through tissue paper. Arcee gave a little gurgle, and Springer just went completely rigid, his hands stiffening to his sides. Bandit held them there, twisted, snapping through their defenses like a rhino galloping through a matchstick house, and casually leaned back against the doorframe.

"Okay . . . well, this isn't so bad, is it? Now here's the deal," he explained, opening the compartment on his arm and pulling out the credits. "Tell you what . . . see these?"

Arcee and Springer both nodded as he pulled lightly on the strings of greed. Both sets of blue optics lit up with it, and Springer's head bobbed again, like a metal and glass drinking bird.

"Here's my problem . . . I need to get a shuttle, and see, I need you guys to help me. You can help, can't you?"

Again they nodded.

"Oh good. I was so worried that I wouldn't find any helpful Autobots here. Well, it's so nice to be wrong." Bandit said, handing them each both exactly half of the money he'd taken in. "So here's my deal. You just shut off the main security cameras leading from the secondary repair bay for the shuttles when every one else goes to see Hound get his tail kicked by a femme."

Arcee laughed, snidely. "That oughta take him down a peg."

"Oh I think so too. I mean, it's widely known that a good femme can out think any mech, and out fight them too." Bandit chuckled.

"Hound's good, though. He'll clean the floor with that Decepticon twit." Springer replied.

"Oh of course he will. I mean, why send a femme in to do a mech's job?" Bandit agreed politely.

The two of them looked at each other, glared, Arcee making a hissing noise as Springer's optics slid over her chest plate.

"Now now . . . play nice. So, can you do me that little favor? Either of you? And then I'll be gone and you'll never have to deal with me again. It's a win win situation. You get money and you get me gone. What more could you ask for?"

Another little mental poke and the two of them looked at him, optics seeming to narrow as they considered his words. Then they both got a slow grin, and nodded.

"Yeah, and you'll be gone."

"And we'll get the credits. Easily done."

Bandit nodded, and then held up the thousand credit chip that Prime had given him. Both of their optics lit up with intense greed, and he shook his head. "Sorry guys. This isn't part of the bargain. All I need is this to be delivered to Jazz after I'm out of here. This should just about cover what I owe him. Tell him I appreciated his sense of humor and his classic timing." He handed the chip to the pink and white femme. "I'm going to give it to Arcee, but Springer, you know she's got it, and if Jazz doesn't get it, you have my permission to . . . talk to her about it. But I'm sure he'll get it without a problem, right, Arcee? I know you're good at your assignments."

She took the credit and hid it in her hip panel, giving Springer a cold glare. "It will get to him without a problem, Bandit."

Bandit nodded, smiled at them both, his mind smoothing over the turmoil he'd created. "Thanks. A pleasure doing business with mechanisms as charming as yourselves," he told them, turning and walking out the door. He let go of their minds, and the two of them found each other nose to nose. Arcee brought up her pistol and hit Springer in the mouth as he stumbled back, swearing at her.

Ah. Well, that's quickly back to normal.

It was late afternoon when Bandit drove to where they had met, looking at the buildings as if for the first time. The humans had long finished the construction, the chain link fence sat, sagging with the weight of some concrete that had been blasted from a nearby sidewalk. He scanned around, transformed just as she appeared from around the side of another building. She saw him, smiled and came bounding forward to meet him, her blue optics shining with excitement.

"Is okay?"

"Yeah. We've got it."

She danced from foot to foot, her grin wide and open as she tossed her head, ponytail flashing. He could feel her emotions as he lightly brushed over her thoughts, a soft, mental caress. It was completely passive, not drawing attention to himself or trying to dominate her, just a gentle touch that let him feel that rush of emotion that the courier was feeling under her layer of constant chaos, that barely pent up excitement, the loyalty and genuine appreciation of him that made him smile.

He smiled, his expression a little wary and worried at the whole undertaking . . . but then he grinned, his amber optics shining at her infectious excitement.

"All right. We're heading out. Now, you have to follow my lead exactly, no matter what happens, okay?"

She nodded, firmly. "Absolutely. Can do. Won't fail you."

Bandit agreed. "No, I know you won't. Come on . . . it's a ways away and we have to get there before dusk."

Dart nodded as he transformed and sped off down the road, shifting into her own car mode, the black Trans-Am following the cobalt Mustang through the ruined city.

Bandit slowly stepped out onto the flat ground, looking around at the snow patching the ground and the pine trees looming overhead, the snow tipped branches shining pale purple and red with the sun's dip below the horizon. Dart let out a soft whine, and he heard her sniff slightly, warily.

"It's okay . . . almost there," he soothed. The courier jittered in place, pawing up a swath of frozen ground.

"Where are?"

"Where are we? We're about five miles from the secondary repair bay. They didn't want it at the Ark, since that made it so they wouldn't have been able to get anything off the ground if something happened to the main ship. They scattered these little secondary bases a lot of places. This one was the closest, and it has a ship that's repaired and refueled . . . and one that I can pilot."

She nodded, looking around, her optics flickering warily.

"Autobots?" she asked softly, nervously.

"Nope, this area isn't that well patrolled. I mean, who's going to be dumb enough to steal a ship? Most of the grunts on both sides aren't pilots. They'd never get it off the ground. I just . . . well, never hurts to have a few extra skills to get you out of any situation you might find yourself in."

Dart was growling a little under her vocalizer as they stepped out of the shadow of the trees and into the clearing. Bandit hung back behind her as she sniffed again, and then looked around.

"Is it clear?" he asked.

"Not smell anything . . ." she offered.

The howl sent them both leaping backwards, the sound ricocheting down from all around them, bouncing off the snow and stone and trees, the mechanized scream of a rabies-crazed dog. Dart recoiled, and Bandit's hand went to his pistol, the grip sliding comfortably into his palm.

"What the-" he muttered.

The moonlight spilled across the rocks, and then they both saw it, the blocky form black against the silvered snow as it stood on one huge boulder, optics burning almost blue-white, the color of liquid flame as it howled again. Slowly, the boxy head turned from side to side, the intake of air past scent sensors rasping in the silence. Even Bandit recognized the note of challenge there, the sound thick and lingering in the suddenly still air.

Dart's optics flared azure and she lifted her head, a snarl escaping her.

"Son of a . . . that's Hound," Bandit said, his optics seemingly widening. "Wonderful . . . he must have tracked us somehow...and decided to cut us off. Great . . . I am so dead." He stood there, holding the pistol, his expression changing to one of utter defeat. "That's it then." His shoulders slumped, and then he shook himself, and his optics flared gold. "Well, he's not getting both of us. Dart . . . get out of here. I can't promise I can stop him, but I can at least make him hurt when he kills me. You get out of here, save yourself."

Dart stiffened.

"No," she growled. "Can . . . do what did before. Attack, confuse him. Stupid Hound. You . . . get to shuttle. Fast am."

He looked at her, shook his head. "No way. I got you into this mess. You aren't taking the fall for me."

"Won't!" she insisted. "Can still do . . . you . . . get shuttle."

"I'm not leaving without you," he told her. "Wait . . . can you track me? Follow my scent?"

She nodded, still watching that bulky shadow, her shoulders dipping as she growled softly, the sound slowly grinding out of her in waves, rising and falling in pitch, a singsong warning. "Can, yes."

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. You . . . you really think you can keep him busy?"

A quick nod from her affirmed his words.

"All right. You do it. Give me five minutes. I know that's a long time, but that's enough for me to slip by security and get that ship running. Five minutes, and then you haul tail and follow me. I can get the ship out of the bay and you just run . . . we can still pull this off. We're good enough at what we do, aren't we?"

Dart's shoulders twitched , rattling the spoiler there as she pawed at the ground again. "Yes. Be . . . be careful."

"You too," he told her. "You ready?"

She gave him a little, quirky grin. "Ready."

Bandit felt her anger flare, that silver concentration of rage as she leapt forward, skidding out from under the trees into the clearing and coming to a stop in the middle, dirt furrowing up from under her feet just as Hound roared out his challenge again.

Her head tipped back, her own howl bursting from the courier, a high pitched, clear sound that started low and ended high, a mechanical beast's own territorial challenge, the notes sliding past each other like water as she sang. Hound's own cry stopped in mid shriek as Dart's vocalization echoed like crystal across the rocks and snow. The two faced off for a moment as she dropped into silence; one power and bulk, the other lithe and swift, one Autobot, one Decepticon, male and female . . . and Bandit suddenly realized, dog and wolf.

Silence stretched between the two, the only motion between them a turn of the head, a glare into each other's optics at first, and then Hound's chest thrust out a little, a low rumble echoing from him. Dart echoed the growl, her shoulders dipping, weight coming forward on the tips of her toes as the Autobot leapt down from his vantage point, his massive feet slamming into the earth with a resounding thud. The Decepticon shifted position as Hound pulled both knives from where they were strapped to his wrists.

Hound pulled first one blade through his mouth, then the other, let out a rolling snarl.

Dart flicked out her left wrist knife, then the right, her body taunt as she snarled back, never once breaking optic contact with the tracker. Across her shoulders, her spoiler raised and rattled out its own warning. Hound took a step closer, threatening, stepping heavily on the snow so that the sound of the crunching ice rolled up around him like he was walking on a carpet of human bones. She shifted lightly, stepping forward also, gliding smoothly over the ground without a sound, her long legs settling her weight easily on the rough terrain. The two machines circled, watching each other, the only sound a slowly rising and falling growl.

Bandit's mind flashed over them, the cloud of red rage that was Hound boiling, seething as he watched the courier.

Kill . . . blade to throat, blade here, taste of spilled fuel . . . warm in mouth, feel plating crush, rip. . . .

The cobalt blue transformer shuddered involuntarily and sought that silver essence, the chaos roiling around her so much now that only that one little path he'd found was the only non protected area.

Her emotions were one of determination, that she'd hold as long as she could, defend the only friend she felt she had. . . .

Hound twisted his head, snapped at her, his mouth plates clicking together. Dart snarled back, her shoulders dipping slightly as she pawed at the ground, and then she made a little snort of derision, a faint wolfish grin crossing her face, an obvious insult.

Hound roared, lunged at her, both knives slamming out hard just as Bandit transformed and flung himself towards the ship.

Dart leapt out of the strike's range just as the two knives came down and embedded themselves in the earth to the hilt, Hound snarling his rage, his scarred face twisted as he jerked back, spraying dirt and snow in a wide arc as he lunged at her again. She danced past, the knife nearly brushing her sleek black flank as she spun and dashed by him again, her own knife coming in low. The mech barely backpedaled enough so that the thin edge of her knife missed him and then she was gone, the ground spattering along his olive green metal, pebbles pinging off like faint machine gun fire. Snarling in frustration, he lumbered forward to try and slam the knife into her as she came at him from the other side; she bounded away again and circled back, this time coming in full speed, her knife extended. He whirled, tried to bring up the blade to block it and she shifted her weight and dodged the other way, the edge of the blade opening a deep wound in his left shoulder, a neat, clean, surgical slice. Hound howled, whirling in a circle, his optics blazing with hate as the cut across his shoulder suddenly began to leak, a bluish shimmer welling up and spilling slowly down his arm.

The courier came to a sliding stop on the torn up ground, the dirt scattered across the pristine white snow like pools of old blood. Her head tilted slightly as she watched him, the only sound now the deep pull of her olfactory sensors drawing in the scent of him, the hot tang of the spilled energon, the cold, thick metallic smell of the tracker . . . the cordite reek of the Ark and its occupants clinging to him like a shroud. . . .

She snorted a little to clear the smell, and refocused on the tracker.

A slow smile spread across his scarred face, and he took a step towards her.

Dart snorted again, took another sniff. . . .

Her head suddenly jerked to the side, in time to see the line of shadows step out of the trees, massive, dark, the optics flaring blue as they came to rest on her. She whirled, realizing that she was suddenly surrounded, the tracker's low snarling rising triumphantly as Dart started to back up, growling at all of them, her optics wild now with fear, body posture tight and guarded.

Bandit felt her sudden rise of animal terror from where he frantically worked to override the ship's codes.

Dammit . . . they're early. . . . he cursed to himself, his fingers flying over the panel, his array of tools scattered next to him, his gold optics intent in the black mask. Just a few minutes more, girl. . . .

She turned, the icy chill running down her frame as Optimus Prime loomed, his massive gun in one hand as he looked down at her. She whined, ducking her head a little, optics cobalt as she backed up, forgetting for an instant -

The knife slammed hard into her back, just below her shoulder. Dart shrieked, whirling and tearing the knife out of her body by the sheer force of her wrenching motion. The knife ripped through her light plating with a sound like a punctured soda can, and she staggered, spinning to face Hound's second knife. This one she barely blocked with her own, the two weapons drawing sparks as his weight forced hers back. She kicked out, hard, her foot flashing up to hit his mid section and send him spinning away from her.

Pain tore across every receptor as she made a little choking noise, that silver lance of her rage now buried under the chaos again. She looked around, seeing the ring of Autobots, watching, the air from their vents forming clouds of steam in the pale winter night, the silver moon having risen and casting its own shadows across them. Prime's low chuckle echoed like a reflection of Hound's rolling growl.

"She did tag you first," he admonished the tracker. "You are getting slow."

The tracker snarled, shook his head and sprang. Dart dodged, Hound rolling, slashing a blade to miss her by a fraction as she fled, skittering to the other side of the circle. Heavy laughter, the glint of a gun sent her scattering back, to barely dodge another attack.

Bandit felt her anger turn to a more typical courier response, of a way to escape as quick as possible, knowing the odds were futile.

He flicked the panel again, heard the beep as he was thwarted by security, and then he punched in the sequence again, the tiny tool between his fingertips sliding down to poke its way through delicate wires and force the ship engines to start . . . he just needed a few more minutes. . . .

The courier turned, saw it, that slight opening between Prime and one of his Autobots, and immediately, she turned, tensing, ignoring the grinding pain in her left side as she lowered her head and took one step, two, throwing herself into a frantic, full speed run, the backlash of sound booming across the clearing as she hurtled towards the only chance at escape.

Bandit stiffened, his optics gleaming gold.

No. You can't. You've got to hold him just a few more minutes.

He felt the chaos, reached out to where that path still blazed, the only path open to him in the animal turmoil, hesitated.

Dammit.

No. It's not possible to get this done fast enough . . . and she'll lead them right to me. I'll never get this ship off world, and even I can't use my powers on Prime enough to keep him from turning me to slag once he figures out what happened, and if I can't get this ship off the ground, I'm dead.

Bandit sighed, leaned heavily against the console for a moment, his hands still working as if on their own accord as he shook his head.

Sorry, Dart. I really am.

He slammed his power down into that chaos, found that one silver lance of pure, feral rage, and tore it open. A sudden reaction, that dog turning its head and realizing the source of the far off whistle; he felt the surge rise, surprise and terror at exactly as she understood what was happening to her, a cry of shock that made his fingers tighten on the console as his optics flared bright, deep amber. He gritted his mouth plates, rending through the chaos with full force, turning her and having her snarl her hate at the tracker, her rage bearing her to that place where it was kill or be killed, flight stilled and turned to the pure fight of survival of the fittest.

Dart’s optics flared red; she threw back her head, and howled, the sound a wordless shriek of absolute destruction. With a shattered snarl, she leapt forward to crash into Hound, her own metal denting with the force of the blow as she sent him sprawling. His knives came up and tore into her mid section, ripping outward with such force his chest plate was spattered with fuel. It gleamed, a multicolored shimmer that oozed into his headlights and fractured the beam so that it bounced off the snow in tiny, hazy rainbows around the two snarling combatants.

Bandit felt her thoughts give one last whine of protest . . . almost a plea to him, and his mouth tightened. His mind grasped that lance and twisted it to the snapping point; last shreds of her coherent thoughts were swallowed into that swirling mass of animal instinct. He drew back then, and as he did, he felt that instinct suddenly mark him forever as betrayer, something that had lost all of the trust and friendship he’d so carefully cultivated. Clarity burned in his mind, that this animal would kill him on sight if they crossed paths once more.

Hound ripped a knife across her chest, another across her shoulder as she slammed her blade into his left headlight and punctured it, sending slivers of clear glass scattering into the churned up mud underneath them. The tracker's head suddenly snapped forward, his mouth plates latching onto the scuffed curve of her shoulder. Dart’s mouthplates clicked as she bit at the air between them; right, left, her nose dripping with blue-tinged foam as she struggled to break his grip. Finally, she ducked, twisted frantically, using speed and not skill to break the hold. Hound’s mouth clenched harder, but she managed to kick free, leaving a long, peeled strip of her plating in his mouth.

He chewed on it for a second, then spat it out and advanced on her again. Fuel haze slithered across the clearing, weighed low in the cold. She lunged at his throat, and he swung his hand out, blocked her easily, and tore a huge gout of metal from her flank. The courier was never made for this sort of combat, this physical powerhouse attack, and her light alloy peeled back like paper. In the background, the laughter echoed, the Autobots placing wagers again with each other, waiting, rubbing hands as the two combatants snapped and snarled and fuel spattered across the ground in multicolored pools.

The tracker suddenly grabbed the black spoiler across the back of her shoulders, yanked, tearing off the stabilizer with one hand. Dart yelped as it ripped off in a shower of sparks. Hound lifted it over his head, knives forgotten as he brought it down to beat her with it. Her arm came up to ward off the blow from her face, but the chunk of metal struck the tip of her blade, and the force shot it back through her arm to have it pop out her elbow joint. She screamed, snapping wildly as foam and coolant dripped from the corners of her mouth. Abruptly her optics faded into that deep cobalt as she staggered and grabbed at the arm with her other hand as the pain nearly threatened to overload her systems. He used her spoiler to knock her back from him, and she staggered as the piece of metal cracked against her hip, nearly pitching her to her knees. Her breath tore in and out of her intakes, she was wheezing and gasping, steam wreathing her in waves as her overheated, damaged systems struggled to cope.

"Kill her!" someone howled.

Hound swept his knife off of the ground, and shifted his grip, suddenly driving forward, straight for the center of her Decepticon symbol. The courier stood, head down, rocking from foot to foot, exhausted and thoroughly beaten. She staggered as the knife drove home; fuel and something green spattered out of her lips as she barked out an explosive cough of pain. Long legs folded up to go out from under her; an animal twitching under the drive of the bolt-gun. The girl fell, Hound twisting the knife in her chest, holding the lean body up with the blade. Smacking his lips, he watched her jerk for a moment before he dropped her to the ground. Dart kicked out twice, convulsed, and then went still in the mud and fuel and melted snow, the hilt of Hound's knife sticking out of her purple symbol in victory.

Bandit felt the ship shudder, coming on line, the banks of lights suddenly awash with power as it rocked slightly. He set a course smoothly for out of the repair bay, the engines flaring a deep blue white as they lifted the little craft into the darkness and sent it shooting towards Cybertron.

Hound stood, looking over at the crumpled body of the courier, turning his knife over and over in his hands as he nudged her hard with his foot. She didn't respond, instead she lay completely limp and barely funct