The lower parts of the Ark were dark; they always were. This was on purpose. Hardly anyone wandered down here - not even Nightwind, the spy mistress, who could melt with the dark as if it was a lover's embrace. Nor Mirage, who made it his business to know everything, everywhere, for his own gain; except for down here.

And when some foolish Autobot did trek down, into the inky blackness, they'd hardly want to see the sole occupant. The darkness was for their sake, as much as it was for his own.

Gears' quarters lay on the very edge of the darkness, where, each day when he awoke, he could slip into it, unseen. With him he'd bring a few tools and a communicator. Like the Phantom in his opera or Quasimodo in his bell tower, Gears scoured through his home, repairing what he could, reporting what he couldn’t, hidden from seeing eyes.

It was a normal day when he came to. With practised ease, he avoided the spear of rock that jutted up next to his recharge bed and stepped on to the floor. He didn't turn on the light. He stalked to his door, opened it, looked about carefully, then stalked on, into the Ark's forbidden zone. He walked on, memories from Before tumbling over him.

"This is stupid," he announced. "All this battle is ruining my paint job! Whaddawe care about some stupid squishy facility, anyway? We lost it, anyway!"

Gears continued to complain, bitch and moan, noting with glee Arcee's annoyed fear. "Shut up, Gears!" she snarled.

"Why?" he immediately countered. "'Cause I'm right? Yeah, probably. . . .  I doubt Lord Prime would--"

Arcee snarled and hit him on the head. "One more word out of you, idiot, and I'll shoot you myself!"

Gears rubbed his helmet, and smirked. But he didn't speak. Nah, that would wait till they stood before Prime. A nasty grin crept over his face.

"Better be careful with that grin," someone suddenly snickered next to him. He started and stared at Bumblebee, who fidgeted continuously, yet smiled. "It could . . . it could get stuck," the yellow bot continued, possessively hugging his tamed human to him like a big doll.

Gears stared at him for a moment longer.

"Shut up."

Still snickering, Bumblebee skipped away. Gears quickly padded himself down, checking if he was missing anything. Thieving little brat. . . .

A small rodent screeched and bolted for cover as he trampled towards it. He didn't particularly care. Had it not moved, he would have casually crushed it, perhaps on purpose, perhaps not. Gears wasn't even sure himself anymore. A soft hiss caught his attention, and he stalked towards the source. One of the plasma reactors, at the far end of the Ark. Once again, memories slinked out of the darkness.

Arcee moaned, limping her way out Lord Prime's office; after the official briefing, he’d asked - no, scratch that, ordered to see her there.

"Go well?" Springer sneered, putting a seemingly supportive hand on her shoulder.

She pushed it off, with all signs of disgust, before glaring around at her team, waiting for her to dismiss them. "Someone," she snarled, "told Lord Prime a little more than he needed to know."

A couple of the younger mechs shifted, obviously expecting the Commander to barge out of the door any minute to punish them.

Meanwhile, Arcee continued, oblivious. "Who was it?" No answer. "Who?!" Suddenly her icy eyes came to rest on Gears. "You? It was you, wasn't it, Gears?"

The robots beside him nervously moved away, but Gears glared right back. "Yeah. So what? You screwed up - like that's a surprise - so of course I told Prime! You're always getting us in trouble, and I am sick and tired of being bossed around by some empty-headed femme who doesn't know the first thing about--"

"You whine to much, Gears," Arcee suddenly cut him off. He fell silent, looking warily at her. "In fact, I am sick and tired of you always complaining. You know what, Gears?" she asked, voice jovial, but eyes oh-so-frigid. She’d had enough. "I think you need to lighten up." And before he could react, she'd pulled out a gun, and pistol-whipped him into unconsciousness.

A crack had opened on the side of the reactor, and something hissed out in a thin line of steam. What it was, Gears didn't particularly care. He'd no idea how these things worked; he just knew that the hissing annoyed him, and it would therefor have to be sealed up. A gnawing curiosity, however, compelled him to snatch a rodent, faster than it could escape, and throw it into the steam.

It screeched heart-renderingly as its pelt slowly burned off, writhing violently in pain, to occupied with the fire coursing through its nerves to even consider moving. A demented giggle pushed its way past Gears' lips, and he quickly forced it back. He never laughed; it reminded him too much of... that.

Gears nervously staggered into an upright position, and sailed towards the mirror. He reached it. The two bots with mouths behind him smiled coldly, monstrously. He looked into the mirror. Their smiles, he discovered, were nothing.

The crack was easily sealed, and Gears kicked the rodent carcass out of the way. Somewhere in the distance he heard another rodent squeal, followed by the voice of the only other Autobot that ventured down here, softly crooning a sugary Beatles song.

Once again, he giggled. A giggle that turned into a tortured moan as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the generator. A macabrely grimacing monster stared back.

With his face.

A face that never stopped smiling.