Little One

by Naiad_DreamerWay

Summary:

While being held within a Decepticon prison cell, Bulkhead has an interesting visitor...

This time, they aren't after his space bridge know-how. No, Strika is after something more personal.

Chapter 1

Whimpering in pain, Bulkhead strained against the chains hanging him against the wall. How did he keep getting into messes like this? He never asked for things like this to happen to him. He never asked for Soundwave to try and turn Sari against him. He never wanted that Headmaster unit to take over his body and he never, never wanted the Decepticons to find out about his knowledge on space bridges and then threaten him into building them one.

That, he figured, was a low point in his life.

But, even all those things didn't really add up to being stuck on a Decepticon Warship's prison cell. Bulkhead had to wonder why they wanted with him this time. Didn't they get the space bridge they wanted? Did they need help in trying to find Megatron because he was lost through the bridge? He prayed to Primus that they didn't. The last few days of quiet after the battle, he couldn't stand to look the others in the optic. It was his fault, for the loss of Blurr and Omega Supreme and for the fighting between Sari and her father. It would have been better if he were just pulled apart by the bridge itself into small pieces.

Hearing footsteps, he weakly looked up to see a large form outside of his cell. He tried to make out who it was, but it was no one he was familiar with.
Oh joy, Bulkhead had to wonder when the others were going to come and save him or if they weren't going to bother. He was on a patrol when he was botnapped so it might be some time until they noticed. But again, with all that had happened, would they even care?

"You are the one they call Bulkhead," the Con said in a low tone, a femme's voice actually. That surprised the large Autobot as he couldn't imagine a femme with such a heavy body structure like that. Mostly they were always built like that other femmes - Autobot or Decepticon - all sleek and thin. She was almost as large as himself or Lugnut even.

"What do you want with me?" he coughed out, still sore from the beating he had gained. He actually didn't remember much of the attack. All that came to mind were two mechs; one like Prowl and the other some kind of monster. The next thing he knew he found himself in here with half energy readings and energon dripping from his jaw and right side.

"You haven't answered the question!" she shouted at him, banging her fist against the bars as her red optics flashed towards him, "Are you Bulkhead, creation of Hoist and Grapple?!"

That was enough to gain his attention, "H-H-How did you know them?" he gasped out.

"I have my methods," she said, easing up which scared Bulkhead even more. Why did she want to know his name for? When she opened the cell door and entered inside, he tried harder to move out of her way, but it was difficult with the chains around his wrists.

"Do you know that Grapple and Hoist aren't your real creators?" she questioned, coming closer to him.

Nodding his head, Bulkhead knew that Grapple and Hoist weren't the ones to spark him. They told him when he was old enough and still treated him like he was though. They loved him, always made sure that he had energon to eat. They always wrote and send gifts when he was in Boot Camp and when their team was found to still be alive on Earth, they were the first of family and friends to contact their group and Hoist pretty much had to hold Grapple back from coming down as she was sobbing after almost losing her Sparklet.

"I have waited a long time to see you again..." she said, her tone of voice now different. It was what a femme would sound like talking to a sparkling or youngling, caring and gentle. That shouldn't be a voice for a Decepticon.

"I have never seen you my whole life," choked Bulkhead as his systems started to panic, "I don't even know you."

"I am Strika, little one."

Now Bulkhead was in full-on panic mode. Strika! STRIKA! This femme he had seen in Optimus' history holos. She could tear a mech with her bare hands, Megatron's personal General of Destruction! He was going to die, no doubt about it now.

"You don't have to be afraid, I will not harm you nor anyone else on the ship. I am sorry that Oil Slick and Spittor had to be rough with you, but I am sure you wouldn't come willing with them," she said, standing over him. Bulkhead saw into her optics and the concern and love in them and thought them to be out of place on the killer femme. Her whole facade was making him shake in his armour. Why was she being so nice to him? Was this some game?

"I-I-I'm not telling you anything! I'm not going to help you in your plans this time!" he spoke, trying to at least sound braver than he actually felt on the inside.

"I do not want nor care about any information you might have. Though your skills will become useful to us once you get settled in your new home," she replied, more business-like than before.

"I am not going to help you!" Bulkhead shouted.

Strika snarled as she drove her fist through the air and slammed into the area of the wall next to Bulkhead's head. The young Autobot stared in fear at how close it was to hitting his own head. The old femme lean down and their optics met together, her own glared so deep into him that Bulkhead thought for sure she was looking right into his spark.

"I see that your time with the Autobots has made you soft and your true programming has yet to appear. That is something I shall have to fix" she spoke, "You shall be doing what you were sparked to do soon. It is something I should have been able to do since you were created."

Bulkhead sat there speechless as she removed her fist from the wall, the small pieces of it falling onto his shoulder and leaving a large hole in it. He turned his head back towards her, fear painted clearly across his face. That loving face came back as she moved her over and started to stroke his face like Grapple would do whenever he got upset over destroying one of her projects. It felt nice, but he knew it shouldn't. She was a Decepticon. He wasn't supposed to be comforted by her contact at all...

"Little one, I shall make everything right for you," Strika said, "You shall have the proper family you should have had all those eons ago."

What the slag did she mean by that? Bulkhead didn't know, nor did he want to know. Primus, the team better be on their way now.

He might not be here when they finally did.

Chapter 2

To say that Strika wasn't a femme would be a good guess based on first impressions. She wasn't built like the stereotypical femme body. This caused many soldiers to meet an early demise. She would annihilate them for such insults and comments either in front of or behind her back.

So what if she didn't have the small frame like those Autobot femmes? Her structure allowed her to serve the cause. She could even withstand Lugnut's 'Punch That Destroys Everything' with ease. She was one of the few that would still be standing with only the feeling of an aftershock. That pretty much was the event that caught Lugnut's attention.

While his only thoughts seemed to be of Lord Megatron and the Decepticons, he also had needs that no normal Cybertronian would or could withstand. Strika was perfect for him. After talking, they shared their views and found much in common with each other. Of course, Strika would be the first to say that Lugnut might be a little too 'loyal' to Megatron, not allowing the likes of free thought to enter his head too much. But he was an excellent mech for her: strong, passionate and stable. He was high within the ranks as well, and she was slowly getting up there herself.

When she finally gained the title of General of Destruction from Megatron himself, they agreed to become each other Conjunx Endura and not just 'comrades with benefits'.

They had spent many eons interfacing when their frustration with the Autobots and the idiots that surrounded them became too great to hold back, and she wanted something so much more. She knew that this to be the only genuine soft emotion in her: the urge to create a family unit. When they had finally bonded, they had become one of the most powerful forces in the Decepticon Empire. By themselves, they were a threat, but together they could wipe out Autobot armies with great ease.

Victory would be within their grasp.

Maybe that was why Strika did what she did before the last battle of the Great War. Lugnut refused to give her a sparkling of their own to raise. He wanted to wait until victory was undoubtedly theirs. How much more time did he want? They were winning; the Autobots were falling at their feet.

That was when she had done it. It took a lot of energy, but she drove Lugnut into stasis during their last interfacing together. He never realized she activated the carrying program that would let her carry their little one. Strika would tell him later, but only once they had defeated the Autobots, and Lord Megatron was declared the victor.

That did seem to have happened as only a few vorns after the battle. She found herself leading a small band of loyal Decepticons as they were all run off of the planet. Exiled! They were thrown off of their homeworld. All for fighting for their rights and ideas against the corrupted government. Who knew when they would be able to put their pedes back onto Cybertronian ground again?

She was also scared for the little one that was resting against her spark. She could feel it growing, and soon it would need a protoform body to rest in, special energon to feed on, so much equipment that she could not give him...yes. A little mech; she knew it from the energy reading she was receiving.

Still, this was a problem. Lugnut couldn't help either. He yet even didn't know and was now light-years away with Lord Megatron in some empty part of space. There was no way to contact him due to the fear of Autobots tracking them down. Now she had to make a choice herself. She could absorb the little one's spark back into her own, cancelling the carrying program. That would be the logical choice. But, there was the carrier part of her that did not want to. It was her sparkling, and her carrying program took to overriding her logical thinking.

She was going to keep the sparkling.

Soon enough, the others on the ship found out. It was hard to hide when Strika was becoming more and more easily angered with the passing cycles. Most of them were indifferent about it: Blackout really could care less, and Strika did not know if Spittor understood the situation. The only one that seemed to take an interest in this would be Oil Slick. As the only team member with medical experience, he found it his duty to look after her and the little one. If one would have thought him to complain about it, he did not. He found the whole event to be a learning experience. Taking on the role of 'medic,' he warned Strika of what she was placing her sparkling into.

Was a Decepticon warship the best place to raise her little one? The same points she thought over herself when considering absorbing her sparkling Oil Slick also brought up. Yes, she had to agree with him there, but she did not want to lose her sparkling.

Then he suggested that they send the sparkling to one of the Decepticon's hidden energon sources. It was a trial, but they had planted many Decepticon agents into energon farms. They had to if they wanted the Decepticon Empire to survive. While there were plenty of planets under their banner, few of them produce energon pure enough to consume. The Decepticon farmers would produced the energon and send it out by Decepticon couriers...or some sale mechs. Yes, it would work as Strika thought it over. Her little one would have all that he needed, would learn about his Decepticon heritage and she would have (though limited) contact with him. Once they could supply themselves with a protoform, Oil Slick had arranged a small shuttle to carry the sparkling to one of these farms, one run by a Conjunx Endra pair by the name Bullhorn and Howlback.

When it came to splitting the little one from Strika's spark, the general hated to admit it, but it was hard to remember the whole thing. The only thing she did recall was the first time she spotted her sparking. It was hard to imagine anything so small was her's. Oil Slick took to commenting that the sparkling was larger than normal but was a good size for being the creation of two of the biggest Decepticons within their ranks.

Strika knew that his sire, while shocked at the news, would come to love him. She did. And there were few things she could honestly claim to love.

Oil Slick placed him in her arms, and she held him tight to her chest. He was, at best, a mixture of herself and Lugnut. He had small tiny kibbles like her shoulder cannons and his small hands reminded her of Lugnut's clamps. There was so much about him that she loved as he took to looking up at her with the bright crimson optics, highlighted by the dark green paint job, and trying to take hold of her finger. He could barely grasp a hold of it, using both of his own hands. What could be seen as a smile cross Strika's face as her little one took to trying to bite down on her finger. Oh, he was a little scrapper. These few moments they had together were priceless, and she tried to drill every one of them and every one of her sparkling's features into her memory bank for all time.

But all good things she found for Decepticons came to an end.

Oil Slick returned, and she felt that it was time. He took her little one from her and started to examine the sparkling, weighting him and measuring his height (Which only proved Oil Slick's comment about her little one's large size). All of this to register the sparkling within the Decepticons' ranks. As Oil Slick took to touching and prodding him, the sparkling took to crying. It hurt Strika's spark to hear him crying, trying to reach out for her. But this had to be done to make sure he was healthy, and besides…she couldn't keep him anyway. It was not fair to him, to the next generation of Decepticon warriors. Lord Megatron would need him in the eons to come. No doubt in her mind that her creation would be an assist to the Decepticon cause.

"What's his designation?" asked Oil Slick as he finished filling out most of the form and handed the sparkling back to her.

Oh, a name. Strika forgot to think of a name. Here, she was more concerned with her little one's safety. What is a name when his spark was in the balance? Looking down at the small green form, Strika took a moment as her creation went to snuggling closer to her. To feel his spark so close to her's, Strika bathed in the feeling.

Names took to floating through her core along with the softness of the moment. What would be the most fitting designation?

"…Scavenger…."

"Hmmm?" asked Oil Slick, looking up.

"Scavenger, I believe it would work," said Strika, her optics focused on her little one, her Scavenger.

Nodding his head, Oil Slick wrote it down before turning back to her, "It's time."

Strika took to objecting for a few moments. Her carrier's programming involving protecting sparklings and younglings, especially her own, kicked in. She couldn't let Scavenger go out into the endless limits of space. Primus knows what would happen to him out there. A meteor could crash into the shuttle! It could blow up! Her little one could end up crashing into Autobot HQ. In the end, she handed over the crying sparkling to Oil Slick. Scavenger was packed up into a shuttle and quickly was sent off back to their homeworld with the location for Bullhorn and Howlback's farm into it. She could still remember the tears in his optics and his crying within her audios.

But it was for the best, and before they would know it, they would be together again. She knew it, just as they all planned it on it.

Again, things didn't work out.

Only the news hit them a few cycles later that Bullhorn and Howlback were discovered and forced to flee before her little one would crash onto their farm. As well, a huge storm appeared, and they lost track of the shuttle. Strika was worried but was angrier at herself … and at Oil Slick, at those two stupid Decepticons farmers, and most of all the Autobots! If they hadn't found out about the energon farm, her sparkling would have be spared, no doubt.

Within those cycles, no one dared cross Strika's path if they valued their sparks. Oil Slick wasn't seen for solar cycles in that period. The others couldn't blame him.

Cycles passed, and Strika always tried to find some news of her little one, her little Scavenger. She had to know if he was alive or dead at least. None of the Decepticons she came across have given her 'pleasing' answers until she was lucky enough to get into contact with their double agent, Shockwave, as he was giving her an update because he could not contact Megatron at the moment. Wondering if she was able to remove his voice box by pure will as Shockwave droned on, her optics took to widened at one of the images he had taken at Boot Camp.

Those kibbles...

The large claw-like hands...

"Shockwave, who is this?" she demanded, standing up in her chair.

He was surprised by the sudden outburst and movement by his fellow officer. Cautiously, he answered the question.

"That large mech? I believe his name is Bulkhead, some accident-prone Autobot recruit from the energon farms. I do no-"

"I want every single piece of information you can get your claws into! I don't care if they are his youngling education grades! I want everything!" Strika shouted out, pounding her fist into the table.

Shockwave's optics filled with shock because of Strika's outburst, and he looked like he was about to say something when he stopped because of the stare she was giving him. It was not a smart idea to cross Strika when she was like this. It was best to go along with her request. Thinking it over for a few more moments, it wasn't such a big favour anyway. What was wrong with giving her information on a small, no-name Autobot?

What is the harm in a bit of information?

Strika soon had the data in hand about this little Bulkhead mech. Bulkhead. What an Autobot name. That name wasn't fitting for her Scavenger. Yes, it was him for sure. He was raised by a Conjunx Endura couple by the names of Hoist and Grapple on some energon farm. An energon farm in same area where they were sent Scavenger to.

He also had the strength of Lugnut and herself, with a history of destruction following behind him. That idiot Sentinel Minor kept on criticizing her youngling. If she found him again …

Maybe once she was reunited with her little one and shown him the proper ways of being a Decepticon, he would like to 'reward' the Minor for his lessons.

But, then again, she had lost track of Scavenger. Oh, the irony that her little one would cross paths with the Allspark, his sire Lugnut and Lord Megatron. But as soon as Strika's spark filled up at the joy of her life being restored, they disappeared again. Somehow, this large explosion and both ships took to being destroyed; the Autobots and Lord Megatron were lost during it. Once again, her family and life were placed on hold, and this time maybe never to be seen again.

Yes, Lugnut might be as alive as she had seen him again in New Kaon, but his obsession with the story that Lord Megatron was dead had dealt him a great blow. He couldn't stand the truth that their lord might be dead.

She should have told him that not only had they lost their lord in that battle and the chance of beating the Autobots with the Allspark, but that of their own creation. Before Strika even had a chance of trying again, to fill the empty hole inside her chest, Lugnut had run off with Blitzwing back to the planet near where they had lost Megatron.

That bit-brain...

Many cycles later, she had received the news that Lord Megatron was alive! Oh, their Lord was not so easily destroyed. Not only that, but even though he and his elite soldiers were having trouble with the space bridge repair crew of Autobots. In a strange mixture of feelings, Strika felt proud of that fact. Her little one was a true warrior. She broke out into a smile reading the reports from Lugnut about his difficulty and defeat at the hands of the giant green Autobot. Oh, Scavenger was able to defeat his sire! If only Lugnut knew the truth as she had. He would be as proud as she was. It was a sign of a true Decepticon if a creation could defeat their creator in battle.

As though he did gain their strength, it seems their little one also had a core processor on him. What information Shockwave didn't give her, she took to finding out herself. The little one had taken the space bridge technician aptitude test and own the highest-ranking score on it.

Yes, Scavenger gained his core processor from her and not his sire.

She could only thank Primus for that.

Oh yes, this 'Bulkhead' had the makes of a true and pure Decepticon, but she would have to fix that Autobot nature of his.

Perhaps Oil Slick could have a look at him once they arrived at the mudball world.

Chapter 3

Standing there, he had many thoughts flowing through his processor. All of those thoughts were so unnaturally dark to his personality and also took to ending with the mech he was speaking to dying. Then again, this was Sentinel he was speaking to. Nobody would last very long with him and his loud-mouth ways. It was times like these that Optimus was a bit surprised that Jazz was so calm and collective around the Prime.

"Optimus, are you paying attention?" demand Sentinel, his face invading the other Prime's personal space.

"Yes, Sentinel," sighed Optimus as he pushed Sentinel away from him. Sentinel was about to say something about touching him when Optimus took to cutting him off, "Sentinel, we are doing the best we can with the remaining Decepticons. Even with your team's help, we have to face it that these mechs have eons of training under their pedes."

"They are Decepticons; they have no training except on how to use their weapons and their fists," snorted Sentinel.

Optimus found that point to be weak, very, very weak. Sentinel was too blinded by the rules sometimes. He never really could be creative when needed. He has seen how Decepticons could act and it wasn't always with their weapons; that was for sure.

"Sentinel, in case you didn't notice, they jumped one of my mechs when he was by himself with no one near to assistance him," said Optimus before frowning. "Megatron? Shockwave? Starscream, even? Any of those names hitting some circuits in that processor of yours?"

"Okay, a few that would be the exception and those are their high command. All the rest of their troops are thugs down to their programming and that won't change one little bit. They are brutes in their adult frames and I bet they were monsters as sparkling and younglings. No one can change a Decepticon's programming. Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon?"

Seriously, Sentinel was the only one that got under his plating like this. Clenching his fists, Optimus was about to make a point about Elita and where she was now. She was a Decepticon because of them, but she was at first an Autobot. Optimus doubted she was a true Decepticon. He knew the Autobot femme he had been friends with was still inside that shell. She just had to see it didn't matter if she was techno-organic or not. She was still Elita-One in his optics. Biting his glossa, Optimus held back the truth of their friend to spare Sentinel his last memories of her when Ratchet came walking into the room.

"Enough of sparkling bricking! We have more important things to worry about than which one of you can kick the other's aft plate around the room," the medic said, looking towards the two young mechs.

Backing off, Optimus nodded his head towards Ratchet. He was correct in that as they had more important things to worry about and fighting with Sentinel. Fighting would actually weaken them if one or both Primes were out of commission due to a fistfight. It was bound to happen sooner to later.

"What are we going to do about Bulkhead?!" cried out Bumblebee. The young Autobot was taking it much harder than the rest of them. He felt that this was his fault again. Like before, he had left Bulkhead alone and now his friend was kidnapped again! All Bee wanted to do was check up on Sari and Bulkhead said he didn't mind patrolling by himself. Sitting on the yellow Autobot's shoulder, Sari patted him in an attempt to comfort him some.

"Don't blame yourself Bee," she said, "They were after him and you know Decepticons would do anything to get what they want."

"I could have done something!" he explained.

"What could you do? Bulkhead barely lasted ten minutes, no doubt they would have gave you the same treatment, maybe even offlined you," said Sari, fighting back the tears at the thought. He almost died once already. Silence grip the group after her statement before anyone dared to speak again.

"What we are going to do is find out why the Decepticons want him again," pointed out Prowl with a frown of his own.

"Isn't like what you said, that the Big Green is an expert on Spacebridges. Maybe the Cons think he can help them bring back Megatron," commented Jazz, speaking the thought that they were all thinking.

No one there understood the whole theory behind space bridges. Ratchet knew more than the rest of them but even he didn't have the skills that Bulkhead did. Was it possible to track someone through the bridge? Bring them back through one? Who knew?

"That is the only reason I can think of that makes sense," sighed Optimus as he walked over to the computer and took to bring up some news crew's footage of the battle, "Right now, I want to know who we are dealing with. Anyone?"

There on the screen was a clear shoot of Bulkhead being attacked by two mechs. Bulkhead was clearly outmatched in skill as he took to being on the defence as the smaller mech with some type of jar on his head took to whipping at Bulkhead some kind of chain and moved with a fluidity that they had only seen Prowl or Jazz achieved. The other mech had to be the 'muscle' of the two. Whenever Bulkhead was able to throw his wrecking-ball, this mech could grabbed it and turn it around on the Autobot with a greater force. It was ugly to see the green mech stand up to the Con's physical force and sent flying backwards into the ground by his own fist.

"Well, I known that ugly mech," grumbled Ratchet as he took to freezing the footage on the smaller Decepticon.

"Same here, mechs," said Jazz, with the same tone of dislike as Ratchet. "That's Oil Slick. Master Yoketron use to trained him, but he fell out to the Decepticons and was expelled. Though he didn't finish his training -officially- no doubt he could be the most skilled cyberninja out there."

"Not to mention a sparkless, insane mech," said Ratchet as he glanced to the group. "I trust you all heard about Comic Rust?"

"Yeah, of course," replied Optimus. "The first contact with the virus it took to wiping out Autobot and Decepticon forces within moments of contact and is extremely contagious. No known survivors were recorded."

"Like slag," growled Ratchet in a huff. "There were two, myself and that bit-brain. Records of the event were blacked-out for some fragging reason. Either way, he created it and felt no mercy in having killed his own allies during his test run."

"That makes him even more of a threat," said Optimus with a sigh.

"We have to do something! Bulkhead is in trouble!' demand Bumblebee, "Lets use that guard ship and shoot them down!"

"We are not using an official Elite Guard ship just to save some repair bot," said Sentinel with a sneer.

"He's not some repair bot!" screamed Bumblebee, ready to attack Sentinel, if Jazz didn't take to holding the minibot. "He is our friend, you pompous slagger!"

As the shouting match between the two Autobots grew louder and the chances of it becoming violent grew, Optimus shook his head in displeasure. This was growing out of hand and he wondered how they were going to save Bulkhead at this rate.

Or if their rescue mission would be nothing more than a chance to get the body.

 

---

 

"Someone might tell me why the slag we ain't ditchin' the Autobot's body?"

Blackout was lying in a seat in the middle of what he had label as the 'Wreck' room of their ship. It was the main area where the crew could come and take their breaks. There was a energon despensiver on the side of the wall and monitors for their own personal business on the other wall. Right now he and Oil Slick were having their energon rations. Spittor was in there as well but was recharging in his own filth in the corner. There was no point in counting him anyway. In fact, really no one counted him until the time for fighting came up.

Oil Slick arched an optic towards the large Con, "You do not recognize him?" he asked.

"Should I?"

"Surprising since you already met him once."

"Huh?"

The Decepticon chemist sighed. It seemed he would have to explain this to his much slower ally, "The Autobot you are wishing to destroy is actually Strika's sparkling."

It only took a few astro-seconds for it to dawn on Blackout. He sprayed out his energon from his mouth and all over the table and Oil Slick. The chemist was not pleased as he took out one of his polish cloths to wipe his helmet clean, "Really, did you have to do that?"

"Strika's sparkin'! As in Lugnut and her..." he said before grabbing his head and banging it on the table. "I do not need that image in my processor."

Chuckling a bit, Oil Slick put his cloth away, "They are only mechs and femmes with needs like everyone else."

"I still don't like it,' growled Blackout, "But how was I suppose to know? Last time I saw the little tyke you were sending him off to Cybertron...and he wasn't such a goodie."

"Well, I anticipate that the Autobots are to blame for that as they raided the place we sent him too and some other energon farmers found him. They must have raised him as their own without telling anyone. You know how some Autobots are with anyone with red optics, reported them straight to the Elite Guard," said Oil Slick.

"I can't believe Strika just risked our hides like that for an Autobot," mumbled Blackout. "I thought we were here to get Lugnut."

"I believe that will come later once she believes their creation will side with us. Lugnut would be shocked and demand his head if this does not happen," sighed Oil Slick as he spotted the welcoming sight of Cyclonus entering the Wreck room, making his way to gather a cube, "Ah Cyclonus, pray tell us, what do you think of our beloved commander's actions as of late."

The silence mech glanced over to the other Decepticons with that stock-still look on his face as he gathered his own cube. That was his nature. He kept to himself without much of a comment, much to Oil Slick's carnage as he would offend try to get some reaction out of the much younger mech in many different ways without success. Maybe the idea of an Autobot aboard their ship would finally be something to break the ice and he could get closer to the Sweep.

"It is a wise move," said Cyclonus as he finally spoke.

"Really? Ya think her risking our aft for a Bot is a good idea?" asked Blackout, glaring toward Cyclonus than Oil Slick. "You're nuts, your both nuts."

"And what about me, Blackout? You think I am nuts?"

The three mechs turned around and looked at the fearsome form of their commander, Strika, stepping into the room. The three of them stood to attention as Spittor continue to recharge away in his filth. Narrowing down her optics, Strika gazed around the more attentive mechs as she came in. Her stare came to a focus on Blackout as he stood there, trying to make optic contact with her face.

"In case you don't realize Blackout, without protoforms and the Allspark, our numbers are lacking," she spoke, jabbing her finger into his chest. "Cyclonus is, in fact, one of our youngest Decepticons. We are dying and the needed to stretch our few numbers to the far reaches of space to battle the Autobot forces is not doing us any good. We need Scavenger by our side."

"Ah thought his name was Bulkh-" stirred up Spittor. He picked some time to speak up as rage appeared in Strika's face. Blackout and Oil Slick backed up and Cyclonus stood there as she reached for the table they were using and chuck it at the toad 'former. Spittor crash against the wall, stuck between it and the table that was digging into his body.

"That isn't his name, we shall not call him as such," she hissed out before turning to the others. "Oil Slick, go to the medical bay and prepare for Scavenger. I want to know what to do to fix him. Cyclonus, you shall bring him there."

The two mechs gave her a salute as she left the room.

Chapter 4

Sitting there in the middle of his cold, dank cell, Bulkhead found that even shutting off his optics and trying to picture the base at home, the park or even his old room back with Grapple and Hoist on the farm was not cheering him up. Thinking of the places he loved always did when he was at Autobot Boot Camp, but then he was getting letters and assorted of Energon goodies from his caretakers. It was easy to do when he had letters to imagine what was going back on the farm.

There were no letters and goodies here.

It did not help at all that Bulkhead was still shaken up from the meeting with Strika. One tick, she punches the wall near his head and then releasing the chains from around his wrists. Rubbing his arms, Bulkhead couldn't look up into the damaged wall. He could still feel that...femme against his metal, whispering kind words of endearment into his audios and holding him. It was similar to what Grapple would do when he was coming down with a virus or if the other younglings were mean to him cause he broke some toy of theirs'. Why was she like that with him? It was being repeated over and over again in his processor.

It scared him.

It scared him how comfortable her touch was.

What she even implied scared him.

She said that she would 'fix him, that Autobots made him soft, and something about his programming that wasn't right. He didn't remember much as he was more focused on the hole in the wall then. She had been so angry but then acted like a carrier taking care of their sparking. Her actions and words made Bulkhead's head spin in confusion.

"Primus...why me?" he whined out, grabbing hold of his head and shaking it. He hadn't done anything wrong with his life...except for the space bridge.

That specific memory caused his spark to stop inside his chest at his one genuine regret. How could it not? His very actions were things he swore as an Autobot never to do. He helped the Decepticons in their plot to take over Cybertron. If the others weren't so fast, they would have been successful. Oh Primus, his pride had gotten the better of him and look at where he was now.

Trapped on a Decepticon warship as he awaits his fate.

At least Bulkhead could count on his team. The others had to know he was missing by now. He bet Optimus was working out some rescue plan with Ratchet. Bumblebee had to be worried along with Sari, both gun hold with Prowl trying to reign them in. Hell, he knew the Elite Guards were here, so maybe…

"I hope the others are on their way…" sighed Bulkhead, leaning against the wall as he online his optics once more.

"Unless they have the use of a ship to escape the planet's atmosphere, I doubt it."

His head twisted to the area outside of his cell. There stood a new mech Bulkhead hadn't seen before. Slag, couldn't even make him out from the shadows, given how dark their paint job was. The most important thing was the glowing red optics and easily seen Decepticon brand on their chest plate. Well, things had gotten worst now.

"WW-W-What are you are talking about?" asked Bulkhead. He didn't know why he even asked that. Bulkhead already knew the answer before the Con even replied.

"We are within this organic planet's thermosphere, so there is no way to escape if you decide to flee," the Decepticon replied. He moved over to the side of the Bulkhead's cell. "That being said, I'm here to escort you to the medbay."

Medbay?

Bulkhead felt the energy drain from his body. This is what Strika had mentioned. That he was going to be fixed. The reality of the situation finally hit Bulkhead as he put together what that could mean.

They were going to try and reprogram him. Like some Pre-war mnemosurgery stuff. He barely remembered what that was all about from his primary programming days. Just that it messes with a Cybertronian's processor, that had to be what Strika meant. They were going to twist his head around until he was all 'Hail Lord Megatron' and stuff.

That's why she said Bulkhead would happily use his know-how on space bridges to help. Cause he wouldn't know better after they mess with him, that's why!

He had to get out of here.

He couldn't let them do it.

Before the Con had a chance to get to slap the stasis cuffs onto Bulkhead, he wounded up his fist and let his wrecking ball fly. It caught the purple mech by surprise and sent him crashing into the wall outside of the cell. Bulkhead didn't waste a moment and hobble his way out of the cell.

His frame barely had a chance to self-repair his systems from his previous fight. How could it with such low energy levels? But Bulkhead had to try to make some attempt to escape.

Too bad he didn't even make it too far before someone kicked him from behind. Bulkhead was toppled to the ground and felt a heavyweight on his back. As he lifted his head, a pair of swords dug enter on the edge of his vision and ready to slice his head off if needed.

He lost his head once, didn't need to live that experience again.

"That was very foolish of you," said no doubt the Decepticon he had tried to escape. Bulkhead felt the mech shift his weight and lower his head to the Autobot's audio sensor. "You are fortunate that Strika wishes you alive."

Without another word, the Decepticon lifted him onto his peds and slapped the stasis cuffs onto Bulkhead.

Maybe he should have tried to resist better?

But even Bulkhead knew better than to push his luck again. Even if Strika wanted him alive, he didn't know how far her generosity would cover. Though, what was the point in staying alive if his processor was going to be rewired and reprogram? He wouldn't be himself anymore.

No, he couldn't give up hope. The rest of his team had to be on their way. They had the Elite Guard ship, so they had that on their side. They had to be making some daring plan to save him.

Right?

The two walked through the ship corridors, and Bulkhead tried his best to absorb his surroundings. The Deception ship was so much darker and grimy compared to any Autobot ship he has seen. There barely seem to be any light anywhere. It made looking out the window even more frightening. To see the Earth below, mixtures of white, blues and greens, along with the endless space above, made Bulkhead feel even smaller.

"Ah, about time, Cyclonus. I was about to track you down to see what was taking so long."

Ok, this was a medbay straight out of his nightmares. As Bulkhead step in behind his Con escort, his nerves hadn't settled one bit. It might have been brighter, but not by much. The shadows made all the standards medical equipment look more menacing, lethal and more on the torture chamber than a place of healing.

Not to mention the Decepticon that waited for them was one of the Cons that attacked him earlier. Strika mentioned that it was an Oil Slick and Spittor were the one that attacked him. Which one was he?

"I do not see you having other matters to deal with, Oil Slick."

Ok, that one.

"Details, details, my dear sweeper," said Oil Slick with a wave of the claw hand before he gesture to one of the berths in the room. "Come on, Strika would like this done this solar cycle."

The purple Con, the one he had called Cyclonus, reached behind and took hold of Bulkhead's stasis cuff to pull the giant Autobot forward. Bulkhead stumbled and fell straight onto the nearest berths. Being close to two Decepticons had his anxiety rise to what felt like double or triple the amount he felt before. Frozen in his fear, he didn't put much of a fuss as Oil Slick force him to lay down.

"Now, let's see what's inside this head of yours," said the twisted Con.

Bulkhead felt his protoform crawl as the Con's talons touch his helm.

"Whatever you're planning, it isn't going to work," said Bulkhead. "Bet my team are on their way here right now to bust your heads."

"I'm sure they are, but not sure if they arrive in time, my dear Scavenger."

What?!

What did he call him?

 

---

 

"Strika, care to explain yourself."

She glared at Shockwave's face on the viewscreen, "Is this why you called me? To lecture me?"

The former double agent's optic narrowed down at her, "You were supposed to guard your space bridge location and await your next orders. I don't recall giving you any such command to head to Earth."

"You didn't, and you do not have the authority to order me around, Shockwave. We're of the same rank, and until Megatron says otherwise, I will handle things as I see fit."

This whole meeting was pointless from the very start. Strika didn't need Shockwave venting down her back down when they had more important things to handle. They had Lord Megatron warping around Primus knows with the Autobot's Omega Sentinel and no clear way to predict where it would appear. They needed someone that happened to be an expert in space bridge tech.

And the fact she had a personal interest made it more pressing.

"This isn't part of the plan."

"My orders were to guard my assigned location, yes," snapped Strika as she resisted the urge to crush her armrest. "But they closed the space bridges to Cybertron! What's the point of guarding something when we can't even use it. Something which you failed to prevent, might I add."

"To do so without a good reason would have been a risk to my cover here," said Shockwave.

"And how well did that work out for you now?"

For having such a blank face, Shockwave could express his simmering anger at this conversation. She had to admit that they shouldn't be snapping at each other like this, but the tension between those lefts of the Decepticon High Command was tight and high. Without Megatron, what of their cause? What of them? It was horrible to have lost him once; they couldn't have him disappear again.

Strika leaned back in her command chair, let out a hiss of air from the stress. "Shockwave, we need Lord Megatron back to command us once more. I believe that I found the solution to the problem."

"Oh do you?"

"Yes, we have managed to capture the one that built the space bridge on Earth. With his aid, we should be able to track the Omega Sentinel Lord Megatron is trapped on."

There's the look of disbelief she expected to receive with the news. A mech of control seemed to pause at the news and struggle with some response. Strika had to admit if someone said something similar, she would have a hard time trusting such information.

"Strika, what's this obsession with this Autobot?"

Huh?

Her optics widened at the question. This wasn't a question she had expected to answer from the Intelligence officer. Maybe question her plans and how to get Scavenger to help, but not this.

"Obsession? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm the one that got you the initial information of him back in those boot camp days. I never question it then. Nor the third or fifth time...but I should have questioned it then. Why him? Why Bulkhead?"

"I can explain it," growled Strika at the sound of Scavenger's Autobot name.

"Oh, you better Strika," said Shockwave. Even if his face couldn't express it, Strika knew that his processor was putting the pieces together, and it would only be a matter of time. "I should have mentioned it to Lord Megatron when I looked up the space bridge technician aptitude test, that I wasn't the first Decepticon to look up the results. How the Autobots didn't discover your hacking from cycles ago, Primus knows."

Now her armrest crunch under her grip. Strika knew Shockwave wasn't a stupid mech. He would have no trouble in putting it all together. Why would Strika be interested only in one Autobot? Why didn't she share any of the information she gathered herself with anyone?

But what was the issue? Why not come clean and explain that the Autobot known as Bulkhead was one of them. That he was her's. Strika didn't have anything to hide. The only one that deserved any sort of answer or to be upset with her is Lugnut.

But maybe because her sparkling was weak, that her little one was a soft, passive Autobot.

"What are you hid-"

Before he could finish whatever he was to say, Kalis' Lament's alarm started to go off. Strika turned away from her screen and focused her attention on the radar. It turned out there was an incoming Autobot ship. It wouldn't have been an issue if it was coming from the planet. No, it was coming towards them from the far reaches of space.

And the fact she recognized the incoming ship.

With a sneer, Strika turned back to Shockwave, "I'm afraid I must cut this conversation short. Something else has come to my attention."

Didn't even give the former double agent a chance to respond as Strika cut him off.

After all, she needed to provide Team Athena all over her attention right now.

 

---

 

The fact that Strika hung up on him made Shockwave even more upset.

The femme never did anything without reason. Strika plotted every move with precision and three steps ahead of anyone. That's what made her one of the top tacticians in the Decepticon Empire. The number of victories that be credited to her were numerous. That what her current actions all the more frustrating.

Shockwave turned away from the blank screen and turned back to another computer system. His talons flew across the keys as he knew something was suspicious. What was her obsession with this Autobot?

He knew it wasn't anything of a romantic nature. She wasn't the type at all. He still didn't even understand her relationship with Lugnut of all Cons.

But no one could understand Lugnut.

No, any information Strika had requested or found herself were nothing. He gave her Bulkhead's data from his youngling days, medical records, any highlights that were worth mentioning at the time. All the data he supplied her was worthless to the cause as a whole. There was nothing at the time that would have given them any type of advantage. It was information that any creator would ask about their creation...

When that thought came across his processor, Shockwave paused.

Was it that simple? Was it that?