Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

B-127 was what many called him, it was his designation, the name before the name. THEY used to call him something different as well, a name only They used.

"Runt." The voice was gentle as a limb playfully pushed at B-127's side. "Runt, I know you are up. Aren't you hungry?" B-127 for you after that, his optics meeting larger, more cat like ones. Creator. Parent. Safe. That was who this was. B-127 never cold remember their name, nor their face. Outside a grey blob with smears of pink, Been can't remember who they were.

They grinded at B-127, lower face opening up to reveal such sharp denta that not even the worst of the Decpticons have. Hook like fangs twitch, and B-127 copied his creator, showing off his much smaller fangs.

"Come along now, get up! Get ready. We need to hunt." Hunting. The two were strange. Not different from cybertronians but not the same. "Remember, They will swarm you, and they will eat you. You must be quick and take out a few." They had told B-127 as the two staked throughout the night, sticking to that shadows. B-127 was wrapped tight against their back, safety secured by tendrils. B-127 of course would squirm, too restless to ever stay still. The charge unit nature of his frame demanded movement. Still, they held tight, never letting B-126 go. He was still just a little too small to go hunting by himself. Still at the age where sparklings are dependent on their creators, sparkeater like them weren't that much different. "Settle. It's easier to hunt with you still." They said sternly as they followed along betten alleyways and ruined buildings, still rotting though the war was supposed to be over. No matter, the ruins made good hunting grounds.

They knew what they were looking for and then they found it. Droplets of dried energon. A meal was close by. They slid B-127 off their back, holding onto the fussy sparkling for a second before they hid the little thing, under some rubbish. "Watch and stay hidden." They had said, their form so blurry as they moved to pull out a half devoured corpse. Scraplets scattered as they quickly killed the little bastards, Slicing through them with ease. There weren't a lot, the scraplet population dying down now that the hoards had to actually hunt their next meal now that there weren't corpses everywhere.

They had smiled, seeing the Cybertronian body, spark chamber intact. It was instinct, it had been so long since they had a meal, they had gotten reckless after so many fruitfull hunts.

They had riped open chest piece, claws going for the spark, already dead but still oh so tasty. They never heard the footsteps, but they heard the click of a blaster before their helm was little more then smoking chunks.

It gets so blurry. There was shouting confused terrified mech's staring at the monster, And at the corpse, the handful of scraplet bodies. They never saw the yellow sparkling who saw it all, who clutched at their spark chamber, confused at the lost, not understanding why They weren't answering. Why they were grey and laying still.

B-127 didn't remember too much after that. He knows he manges to sneak off, back to home. That some mech's in shiny armour so polished B-127 thought they were starts came in. The elite guard. They found a hungry sparkling who was left behind after their creator went mad. And just like that he was handed off. Booted off the some random orphanage. B-127 could barley remember his creator. But he could remember those stars. How well fed they looked, how polished their armour was. No dent nor scratch in sight. B-127 was a hungry little thing. Maybe if he became apart of the elite guard, maybe he wouldn't have to be so hungry
.......
...........
Bumblebee paced In his cell, back and forth, over and over again, to pent up to sit down, too afraid that if he stopped moving for even a second he'd never get back up. Too much energy was normal for charge units, even if his stingers were disabled and removed.

'This is a Waste of energy.' Bee thought, but it didn't matter. He was hungry, and it hurt. He could feel his fangs twitching. He hadn't been able to get much energon. Not enough to fuel a normal mini bot, let alone him.

But it's fine. Bee couldn't hurt anyone. No, he's alone in a cell, in a long line of mostly empty cells. There were others but they were "Picked up" was what the youngling heard from a random guard or two.

Bee continued to pace, desperate for distraction, to ignore the hunger. To ignore the way his pupils look wrong. One loop, two loops, three loops.

He couldn't get too close to the lasers, well aware of how badly they'll hurt. He didn't need to trip or collapse into them.

The Decpticons had won, and now there was Bumblebee, pacing in a cell. This wasn't a prison, no the conditions were too nice. No this was some sort of holding area. Why Bumblebee of all mechs was here, he couldn't tell you.

There were footsteps, loud and heavy, but Bee tried to ignore them, as he paced. He didn't need to see anything, or anyone right now. He just needed to keep moving. Ignore how his teeth twitched with hunger as he heard the footsteps.

The footsteps got louder, closer, as the youngling circled his space. And before he knew it. His blue optics met a single red one.

Chapter Text

Bumblebee is not sure when he woke up, could've been a few minutes ago, could've been hours. That's the thing with hunger, his hunger, it really does make the whole world stop making sense after a few days. Not that it matters, as the yellow much was curled so tightly into a ball, his yankees met his chest plate. Distressed clicks and whimpers escaped his mouth as he clutched tightly at his head, optics water with tears. His frame trembled and shivered, raked with the growing need to bite into something….. S̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶. H̶i̶s̶ l̶o̶w̶e̶r̶ f̶a̶c̶e̶ p̶l̶a̶t̶e̶s̶ t̶w̶i̶t̶c̶h̶e̶d̶, u̶n̶s̶e̶e̶n̶ f̶a̶n̶g̶s̶ j̶e̶r̶k̶i̶n̶g̶, r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ a̶n̶d̶ d̶e̶s̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶e̶ f̶o̶r̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶o̶ e̶a̶t̶ . His helm was pounding, pulsing with pain as he shuddered.

The minibot bit back a sob,pain rolling through his frame as another wave of hunger hit him, intense and raw. His hand pressed firmly against his mouth, with trembling fingers as he cried, trying to muffle the noise. What happened next, Bumble swore up and down was an acadint, that he didn't mean to slice his palm open with his fangs, his energon pooling out from the cut easily.

He yelped in pain, hand jerking away, but that taste of energon on his tongue, he just couldn't help himself, as he pressed his hand against his mouth once more.The taste of life energon was different from fuel, more dull in flavour, less minerals as internal systems filtered the fluid. It was a familiar taste, half baked memoirs of scraplets briefly came into the mini bot’s mind, but were gone just as fast. He closed his optics, a whine in the back of his throat as his helm pulsed with another wave of pain.

He was so hungry, borderline starving really. Sure, lapping at his own energon wasn't even a short term solution, just a little discretion to make the hunger quiet down for just a second. It helped, as he laid there, on a berth that wasn't his, in a room that he didn't know, drinking his own energon…. It just gave him a sense of control. It certainly made the shake slow down a bit. Not stop, no, but it was tolerable. The pain was still there, however, a never ending hunger, that he was born with.

Sparkeaters are monsters. Simple as that, and normal mechs would never show a monster like him any mercy. They were killed off and no one besides Bumblebee knew their true nature. A part of him wondered if Prowl or Bulkhead saw him as he is, would they attack him? Would they get concerned or worried if they saw him lapping at his own wounds? How long until they realized it was his own teeth that cut open his palm that he drank from? How long until their faces twisted with disgust and fear? Would they even figure out what he was, or just assume he’d gone mad with hunger?

His cheeks were wet, his vision blurry, teeth still latched to the bleeding wound, not letting a single drop of energon escape. Everything hurt, his head, his hand, his stomach, his legs, his
face… ̸̧͚̩̼̠̝̔̎̏̔̓̍͆̽͌̌̈̍̈́͝H̷̙̟̟͉̹͒̈̀͂͛̾̑͐̀̍̈̿̚̚͜͠ị̴̫̪͙̿̏͐͛̽͠͠͝͝ͅș̶̪͕̦̰̦͕͂̀̑̋́ ̵̥̳͇͍̱̠̰̠̺̯̪̠̒͒̈́͌̊ͅͅͅţ̶̧̛̛̖͎̬͍̝͈͕̠̰̥͇̅͒͑̓ͅe̴̢̨̧̼͖̥͚̭̿̉̅͘ẻ̷͉̹̯͎̳̠̼̭͑̀̔̍̈́̚̚t̶̹̮̝̯̩̟̺͉̜͚͈̺̞̿̊̀́́h̷̻̘͕̩̖͍̐̅͐͂̅̂. He just knew his pupils were thin slits like a snake or cat. The thin lie of a tamed beast already lost from behind his optics.

He winced, reflexly biting into his hand just a little more. It wasn't helping, he was still hurting. Bumblebee really was losing himself. The arm wrapped around his torso clutched just a little tighter as pain grew inch by inch.

There were footsteps, quiet and muffled, but getting louder with each step they took. He could feel that weight witch step, rallying the floor already. Someone big, someone heavy, someone with a spark… He tensed up, talons sharp and ready as he stared at the door, mouth watering. His hand still bleeding, removed from his jaw, now grips the bed, ready to help him launch him towards his prey. He licked his lips, cleaning off his energon, so, SO thirsty for more. He shafted a bit, instinct telling him how poor his ambush will be. No, he needs to hide.

But where? The room is empty, safe for a bed. His optics glanced to the door, the footsteps so close. Glazed up, at the ceiling, the corner, just barely out of sight.

He was quick, the pain of hunger and bleeding hand barely slowing him down. He felt his back click open, but he didn't let his tendrils emerge. He didn't know what to do with those, they’d only get in his way of a good hunt. Just as the door opened, sliding open into the walls, Bee was in the corner as best as he could.

He recognized the figure, familiar as betrayal and anguish sluggishly squirmed in his mind. Not that it matters, this lanky figure was prey now. He licked his lips as the figure stood still, the single red optic barley lighting up the room. Bee didn't need light to see. Not like them. Not like anyone else. The head turned to the left, opposite of where Bee was, and he pounced, talons ready to tear open the spark chamber from behind.

He landed on the figures back, claws ready to start tearing in, digging into the armour. The mech grunted, large hands big enough to easily wrap around Bumble, ripped him right off, away from his meal ticket, and the minibot snarled, teeth gnashing as the feral thing tried desperately to claw and swipe. Cheeks wet, as the threat of starving or being killed within his rabid mind.

He can't hear anything, besides the pulsing of his own spark, desperate and weak and hungry. What little energy he had was wanted on a failed hunt. No doubt even if he somehow was able to claw himself away, he’d have no energy left to hunt, he’d starve eventually, unable to even move.

The mech dropped Bumblebee back onto the bed, hand patting his helm, the minibot’s frame slumped against the wall, exhausted and hungry, the trembling returning with a passion. He closed his optics, his helm spinning. When something small and round hit the space beside him. The yellow mech could feel the warmth and energy pulsing from it. He glanced to his side, Optics locked onto the spark. White with pale yellow lines, small, a minibot’s still live spark.

His claws wrapped around the spark, he could feel the tense and wild energy of it, the whole being of a mech compressed down into a spark. Life, cybertronian life in his palms. Bumblebee’s lower jaw clicked, unlocking as his bottom jaw split open, three large teeth on each side revealed, made for cutting and slicing like blades for hunting build in. It was easy, swallowing a spark whole, fluid and simple movements, despite the fact that this was the first spark Bumblebee ever had.

He could feel the energy his frame was stealing from the spark, hunger easily being swallowed up, like empty space being overfilled. He didn't stop trembling, but it wasn't from hunger this time, no, this shaking was lesser, born from energy. Bee felt strange, high almost, like that time he stole some high grade and got plastered at the orphanage. Mind sluggish, he blinked a bit, his hands rubbing at his optics. His lower face plates locked up once more, every bit of his nature happily satiated, content to hide now starvation was not a threat.

The figure- No, Shockwave, Bee barely recognized, had sat beside the minibot, a clawed servo wrapping around him and pulling him close to the warframe’s side. Bee did not resist, too groggy and dazed to really do much outside trying to pull himself together. But even that took a bit more effort then Bee really had at the moment.

Shcokwave’s claws held tightly around Bee, scratching off thin slivers of paint, like teeth of a tiger holding onto the neck of a deer. Possessive in nature, unwilling to let go. Bee was held against the spy’s side, a claw petting the yellow mech's helm, is some form of affection. The Youngling squirmed a bit, too buzzed to stay still, the energy his frame was sipping needed an outlet of some kind, his legs kicked in the air, not to fight but to just move.

“Hush now, do not fret.” Shockwave spoke with authority, but not like a leader. Not like Sentinel Prime, or Optimus prime. Not with kindness, or arrogance. His grip tightened just a bit around the minibot, halting the movement with ease, his claws leaving bigger scratches.

“Curious… Is this reaction natural for you? Or was it because you were starving? Unfortunately, there isn't much information on Sparkeaters. Most are just little pamphlets of legends and nursery rhymes.” Shockwave mused, as he titled Bee’s face to make it easier to study. He traced a claw along where he thought the seam was to the mech’s splitting jaws. “Amazing. You can’t even feel a difference, no noticeable seam.” the warframe’s single red optic stared at the minibot’s teeth, how normal they looked now that he wasn't starving.

Bee squirmed just a bit, the too tight grip was uncomfortable. His frame with too much energy but still just a bit too weak, limply tried to push himself away, little strings of anger and betrayal slowly waking up.

Shockwave didn't budge, keeping his grip steady and he studied the youngling. “You are far too small for someone your age. Even for standard charge units, you’re underdeveloped. Nothing more proper diet will eventually fix this. Though I expect to see differences, your biology will no doubt be interesting.”

Shockwave grabbed one of Bee’s servos, flipping it so the palm faced him. He noticed the sluggish bleeding wound. “Ah. It appears I was a little late feeding you. I came here as soon as I was alerted of your string. No matter, nothing I can't fix.” The spy said with a clinical note.

One of the Decepticon's claws pushed at Bee’s palm like a vet would a cat’s paw. “I believe I saw talons, no? You were clawing at my back” He watched as talons shot out from Bumblebee’s fingertips, smooth and seamless, a few droplets of energon paint the very edge. Bee made a small noise when his talons were forced out. It didn't hurt but was surprising. Weird and unusual, a new sensation. The yellow mech blinked blearily at his hand, face slightly grim, distressing. A small sneer on his lips. He hated the way the energon droplets looked. He hated those claws.

Bee flexed his hand, hiding away his talons. He weakly tried to pull his hand out, feeling just a little more aware, the buzz slowly dying down. The energy stayed the same.

Shockwave didn't let go of the limb, his optic locked onto the still bleeding wound. Self repair was trying to fix it, the stolen energy from the spark aiding the repairs. Shockwave just hummed, as he poked and prided at the small wound, the crisp edges where sharp fangs poked through.

Bee blinked, the weird high slowly leaving him, but he had a feeling it’d last what’s left of the night. He could feel his own spark, buzzing softly, as something inside his chest piles and withers away at a snail’s pace. He weakly tugged at his servo once more, like a sparkling waking up from a nap. When his limb was still held hostage, he jumped. Oh, right. He wasn't alone, was he? “GET AWAY!” he shouted, harshly shoving the familiar force away with a well placed kick to the side.

The minibot scrambled off the bed, his hands almost getting tangled in the sheet before he managed to shove himself in a corner. The figure grunted, and it took Bumblebee to recognize, actually see the mech. Lanky, purple, two antlers, and one optic.
‘Frag! What in the pit does he want?’ What was going on? Wasn't he starving a few moments ago? He could feel the burning sting of his hand, energon slowly dripping. Why was he feeling better? Better than normal even?

He took a shuddering vent trying to calm his panicking thoughts, as he watched Shockwave sit up, his side, while not dented, had been scratched up by Bumblebee's ped. Thin silvery lines where purple and black had once been. Shockwave's optic landed on Bee, and the smaller mech flinched. ‘Oh no, oh no, no no no…. Shoot, I really had to go and piss him off, didn't I?’ Bee hissed to himself frantically looking around for somewhere to escape.

His talons scraped against the wall, carving out lines as the minibot grew more frantic. He licked at his teeth, tasting the rotting precedents of energy on his tongue. It almost reminded him of scarplets, their fiery but short lived energy was similar to this. But this one was more. More complex, as Bee tasted the hints of fear and dread of a dying mech's last thoughts…
Oh…..
Oh no…

Bee suddenly felt sick, as he could taste the almost tangy flavour of despair, a few words plea’s that went his dying in the back of his throat. A spark… A spark was responsible for that oh so strange energy in his chest. A spark, was responsible for the sudden horror of being dissected that was not his.

Bee glanced at Shockwave, the con standing tall and imposing, leaving no room to escape. ‘He knows…’ His traitorous mind hissed, as the yellow mech tensed up, trying to debate the odds of being able to fight back. The answer was not very high in Bee’s book.

A Decepticon knows what Bee is. Pit! He even fed Bumblebee, someone’s spark. The spy has known for a while now, longer than Bee could stomach to guess. It was confusing. Why would a backstabbing, lying, spy, feed a monster? Let alone one so personal? Bee glanced at the red optic, and he couldn't stop himself from seeing Longarm in it….

What was this prick’s goal? Beegrips at his arms, confused and afraid, nothing was making sense. It didn't help just how screwed he was! From a Decepticon knowing what he was, to being fed a spark, to being held captive by a pit forsaken spy! Bee didn’t understand what was happening, and it terrified him, to his very core.

This is bad…

Oh Primus, Everything is falling apart.

He couldn't comprehend the warning that flashes in his HUD, as his grip tightened , unable to control his breathing as the sheer hopelessness and terror drowned him out. There were a thousand things wrong, and Bee was just by himself, and no one could save him, and he didn't know if his friends were okay and if Sari was safe … And if there was anyone still alive! AND HE WAS A MONSTER! AND HE WAS TRAPPED WITH HIM!

Bumblebee almost bit down into the Spy’s servo, as claws grabbed at his hands pulling him away from his torn up arms. He didn't hesitate to kick instead, hissing and creaming up a strom, like a sparkling throwing a tantrum almost. Shockwave just sighed, as he grabbed a small needle, easily, carefully sticking it inside the youngling’s neck. Bee of course jerked, and hissed, and cussed up a storm, trying to force the warframe to let go of him to no avail.

Instead his limbs got heavier, slower, and Bee put two and two together. “FRAG! What did you do to me?” Bumblebee demanded, still struggling with his waning energy. “Dont worry, this is just until I can get the proper tools to manage you.” came Shockwave’s vague and awful answer.

Bee felt tired, optics heavy, but still he tried to muster the strength to struggle, but he couldn't. “Ill be here when you’ll awaken.” was all Bumble managed to hear before the sedation finally kicked in.

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Sari was panting, her legs shaky with exertion as she carefully climbed over rubble and debris. Old buildings shattered into fragments, making it so much more difficult for her to get to base. Her jetpack is broken, not that it matters, with seekers flying up above. She’d be shot down if she were caught in the air. “Would make this trip go a lot faster.” She grumbled. Primus scouting sucked, how Bumblebee did it so often was something she needed to find out. When she found her brother, because he was still alive she knows he is, she’ll get him to teach her some scouting tips.

Until then, Sari had a job to do. At least she didn't have to carry around supplies, a small mercy as she shoved some chunks of a decimated wall, still smoking, to the side. “Come on, just a little further.” She whispered to herself. She was hoping to have made it back to camp, but with how exhausted she was, she might have to take a small break in a bit.

She gleaned around her, seeing the ruins of buildings that were standing tall with life a few months ago, it left a sour taste in her mouth. If she squinted, she could almost imagine what shops and little corner stores were here. She wasn't too good at reading Cyberation dialects yet, but she could almost read the broken, shattered, signs.

There was life here, she could see in the graffiti left on a few of the still standing walls, in the furniture left out to rot that was once brightly colored. And now it's just her, surrounded by rusting metal. She picked up the pace a little, climbing over uneven shapes of rubble, and shattered glass. Trying to push herself to get a little further.

But after a while of climbing around in the dark she just couldn't continue, With shaky limbs she climbed into a half standing building with somewhat of a roof, and just hid in a corner, needing a moment to catch her thoughts and breathe.

There was nothing of note inside, not really, as glass sculptures laid broken and scattered all over the floor, Sari was glad that glass really couldn't hurt her anymore as she got as comfortable as she could.

She sighed, letting her head gently thump against the wall as she looked up, feeling oh so mentally worn out. She could see a few stairs from the cracks in the roof, more than she had on earth, but not a whole lot. She tilted her head a bit, trying to see if she could recognize even one constellation. It didn't surprise her that she didn't, but still it was a fact that she was far, Far from home.

Sari closed her eyes, as she tried to relax but found herself unable to. She glared up at the walls, slightly concerned about their ability to hold up the roof. She huffed, pressing her face into her hands, frustrated.
“How did this even happen…” And just like that, she was a small little girl again, helpless and alone. She took a shuddering breath, her cheek wet with tears. “...I miss my dad.” She admitted, voice small and meek. “I want to go home.” WIth each word she cried a little more, a little harder.
Sari rubbed at her eyes, as sobbed, emotions she’s been keeping wrapped up for weeks suddenly trying to burst out of her. “This wasn't supposed to happen.” She wailed to herself, crying all by herself in a dead, desolate, lifeless, destroyed building.

And it was true, almost. The autobots weren't supposed to lose. Megatron wasn't supposed to win, and destroy everything, and Bumblebee wasn't supposed to be M.I.A. Optimus, Prowl, Bulkhead, and Ratchet were supposed to be missing. And she wasn't supposed to be all by herself on a plant that she doesn't know, surrounded by pricks who sneered at her but needed her to work for them!

Megatron wasn't supposed to get his hands on the Allspark, No, correction, a random grunt wasn't supposed to grab the Allspark. It was ironic really, Everyone was so focused on the big names and faces, they forgot there were a few slippery foes running around, and the con was quick and quiet. Sari didn't know their name, and she doubted anyone did, But they had stolen the Allspark, and just like that the Autobots lost.

Sari rubbed at her eyes, trying to dry them off, and she stood up, legs shaking. She really needed to get a move on, get someplace safe. And unfortunately, she needed to be strong. ‘I can do this… Bee, you better be okay.’ And just like that Sari crawled out of the crumbling buildings, and back to climbing over rubble.

There was a tunnel, Half buried, nothing special about it, and she crawled inside. “Take a left, then a right, straight, straight, Left , left.” She repeated the basic instructions to herself, as her knees got scraped up, from crawling. “This really blows.” Sari huffed, her only saving grave was that thankfully the tunnel was a little spacy. It was meant for Cybertorians, not hybrids like her. Really this was an entrance meant for minibots. Though she had a feeling that for the larger mechs, they hadn't left once.

She finally got to a rusty vent gate, and with a press of her hands, it swung open with a horrible screech that all rusty hinges make. She dropped down from the vents, landing with a grunt before closing the vent back up, and tacking a few more sporadic turns(It was almost like there was a city underneath Cybertron's surface) and eventually she came into the open airways.

The underneath,or undercity as she’s been calling it, was massive, hundreds and hundreds of miles of open space from top to bottom, with thousands and thousands of miles worth of space wide. Spirals, Each one it’s own city almost, where like pillars, watch floor a swirl, a disk with space. Sari paused, gripping the handrail that was meant for someone like Bumblebee or Prowl, Someone at least a good couple feet taller than her. It was a breathtaking sight, seeing the orange and purple coloring of the undercities. There was so much space, uncouched for generations it looked. It was forgotten about, that much she knew, only a handful of mechs really knew about this. Why it was forgotten about, Sari couldn't say. Not just because she was an outsider, but also because it seems the few who do know aren't willing to share the information. No matter, she’ll figure it out. She was clever, and tricky, and has made Decepticons and autobots look like fools plenty of times. She’ll find out this secret eventually.

It took her an hour to get to the base. The maze-like city was stupidly easy to get lost in, and she wasn't allowed to leave even cryptic hints on where to go. But Sari found what was probably a library or archive, minus the data pads/books. SHe knocked on the metal door, twice, then twice again, before she pushed the metal doors open, and slipped inside.

She could hear arguing, deeper in the base, slightly muffled by walls. ‘Great. This again.’ She rolled her eyes, as she walked to the main room, and untruly that's where the arguing was cooking from.

She didn't bother knocking this time, just waltzing in as Sentinel shouted insults to a red mech Sari barely knew. The few mechs that saw her, shuffled away, one or two giving her a disgusted glance, others just ignoring her.
“We need to leave! Ditch Cybertron, if the Cons could survive then so can we!” Sentil hissed, face flushed with anger, And Sari already felt herself getting furious. ‘Oh this topic again.’ She glared at the room of mechs, and the red mech, Hotrod she thinks is his name, rolled his optics. “ WIth what vessel? We’re lucky the Decepticons don't know about this place, concerning they’ve already claimed the surface. They are already either destroyed or now are using whatever ship we could’ve used for escape.” Hotrod argued, voice steady but tense with frustration.
“You keep saying that!” Sentinel huffed, crossing his arms.

“That's because it's true.” Hotrod pinched the space between his optics, gritting his teeth.”Besides, we still are missing quite a few important faces. Let it be known, we have no idea what the status of Perceptor is, or about at least 10 different primes. There's only 30 mechs in this base, Even if we were to escape, we’ll probably be offline by the time we get off the planet. Face it, we don't even have the numbers to escape. We're lacking a medic, at the very least, We have no one who could do basic repairs.” Hotrod vaguely gestured to UltraMagus, Still mangled, and missing a few limbs, both arms and legs left an awful mess.

“You’re the most likely to be offline. SIR." Hotrod hissed the last part out, crossing his arms as well, mirroring Sentil. The room got awfully quiet now,and Sari found herself uncomfortable. She turned around, as the silence was broken but sentinel, and the argument continued.

She clenched her fist, as she tried to ignore the untillable yelling, needing some space. Her little area, what was probably a broom closet, now her room, was little up head. No one will bother her, especially not in there. She practically slammed the door closed, with a flustered yell, feeling furious. “They’re just wasting time arguing!” She snapped, throwing her hands into the air. “My friends are missing, My friend who fought the Decepticons, fought Megatron, Multiple times are missing!” She snarled pacing, “And not one of these guys care!” Maybe she was being shellfish for wanting at least a small group to look for her friends, But like she said, they fought Megatron, just by themselves. She stomped as she paced, her fury looping back around in a circle, as her thoughts curled just as well.

Sari would tell someone what little she found during her tip later, right now she wanted to punch someone.

There was a knock on the door and Sari paused. ‘What now?’ she snapped, gritting her teeth as she hardly opened the door. “Yes?” She blinked seeing a mech she didn't recognize,Dented and scared, missing major parts of their frame. A table leg was awkwardly attached to the figure’s thigh, taking the spot of a missing leg. The blue, however faint, was familiar if only a little bit.

“A-A-aplogies, for the intru-tnerup-uption.” They spoke, voice glitching and repeating like a scratched CD disc in a radio. Sair blinked. “Um… Hi.” Sari said, giving them a small wave. They chuckled, or at least she thought they did. “Y-you’ve gr-grown.” They said and Sari felt awkward, slightly confused as to who this mech is. The blue figure caught up, and with what little was left of their face just smiled. “I-I figu-ured you-you wouldn't Rec-recognize me. It’s B-B-Blurr.”

Sari blocked once again before she gasped, “Wait, you’re the Guy who tried to arrest Bee back on Earth!” She blurted, and Blurr rubbed the back of his helm. “Ye-yes.” They said, a light grin to his face.

He had a sad look in his reminding optic, “Li-listen. You-you need to-to be careful-ful.” He said seriously. “Be-be prepared to-to to flee s-s-soon. I d-dont trust-trust the others not to-to do something-something drastic-tic.” Blurr said, voice crackling, and she winced, as he spoke.

“What do you mean?” She asked. Blurr just sighed… or tried to. “A-atubot cant-n’t be trust-trusted with their own. Le-let alone a- a Hal-half Organic-ic-ic.” the blue mech spoke slowly, carefully. “I-i Dont-dont think you’re s-safe her-here.” Blurr said, and Sari paused.

“Im guessing that's what happened to you?” She asked bluntly, and he nodded. “They-they will-will never look-look for your friends. You-ou, need to-to look for-foor them your-our self.” Blurr responded. “I-i think we nee-ed to discuss th-this more. May-May i come in-in?” Sari hastened but eventually she set aside, allowing the other to enter. “What do you have to say?”