I know its been awhile, for those catching up Season 2 is still on the second page of threads...

But its kick-off time as this G1 reboot continues...

Does anyone need the potted history re-cap?

-- Chapter Fifty One - Indecent Proposal --

It was often said that when soldiers stopped complaining, you had something to worry about. According to that wisdom, this Autobot mixed unit was in perfect health. Ratchet knew practically the opposite was closer to the truth. These were not the friendly shared gripes of troops letting their frustrations bleed out through complaints of rough bearings, wearing ball/socket joints, under-pressure hydraulics, thin energon flows and imperfect coagulant ratios. These complaints were edged in grief, in panic and in desperation. Seasoned operators were exhibiting flawed judgements, and those that did appear confident were not the ones you wanted to be exhibiting leadership.

And the Autobot officer corps had been decimated. Ratchet treated the wounded as best as he was able and as best as help was able to provide. Communications skills notwithstanding, Perceptor was proving to be as good an offsider was Wheeljack. While the workload was large and long, it was not testing technically. Ratchet knew that what ailed the Autobots was not muscle, but spark. With that in mind a sleek white mech had been called into the med-bay. This white mech was far from his usual calm, cheery, confident self. He hesitated at the entrance, still clutching his rifle, still to be returned to the quartermasters for after-action maintenance. Ratchet paused in his ministrations of Cliffjumper and walked over to the dark-helmed officer.

"Jazz, git yer tail in here." Ratchet removed all gentleness from his tone. This was the grumpy medic at his grumpiest, hoping to use the familiarity of Ratchet's reputation to restore some of Jazz's confidence with the air of the familiar.

"Hey Doc, how may I have you serviced?" The words were light, the tone was not. Maybe it was progress, maybe it was not.

"Come with me, someone wants to talk to you." Leading past the occupied gurneys, Jazz seemed to ignore a greeting from Cliffjumper, focusing on his path through the medbay. Ratchet led the Porsche into the RH chambers at the back of the room. Many more were occupied today, a statistic that weighed heavily on Jazz. The failure was his, he believed the consequence was too. One of the RH chambers was open, a familiar, but scarred, white and black mech waited patiently, keeping all trace of discomfort from his studied features.

"Hey Prowl."

"Jazz. I seem to be lacking significant elements of my torso, so you will forgive me if I do not stand." After Ratchat's initial surgery, the medical nanobots were using the relative tranquillity and sterility of the RH Chamber to mend Prowl's internals prior to the replacement of limbs, structural skeleton chassis rails and armour. Ratchet has been observing the Jazz' state of mind and knew he needed someone to talk to. Ironhide was missing. Blaster was too close to Jazz to provide an objective viewpoint. Grimlock did not care. Jetfire had difficulty expressing his own viewpoint at times. With no other choice Ratchet had woken Prowl.

"Yeah, and that's my fault. Jeez man what a charlie-fox I've made of it. First time in charge and it turns into bovine excreta while I watch."

"Yes you made errors." Prowl's voice was flat. Ratchet, slouched in the door frame, his hands and arms covered in blotches of varying forms of lubricants and coolants, stepped forward.

"Now go easy on the kid and..."

"Ratchet stand down and give us some privacy." Prowl's voice did not raise in volume, but his tone acquired steel which always seemed comfortable and uncharacteristic of Prowl at the same time.

"This is my medical..."

"And clean yourself up Paramedic 2," Prowl's voice dropped to that of Ironhide's freezing spray. "Your appearance will undermine morale." Ratchet said nothing further but still paused for a long moment. It took a glance from Prowl before the top heavy looking white figure left the chamber bay. Neither Jazz nor Prowl spoke for a few long moments, the silence was filled with the noises of several chambers beeping, discharging and gurgling as they tended the serious injuries.

"Look at all these guys, I did that to them!" Jazz looked like he was going to break something. There was a tone of desperation that no amount of wisecracks and self-deprecation could paper over.

"Each member of this outfit who got wounded prevented their opponent from turning their attentions elsewhere. If we could all pick and choose which situations we got into and avoided the ones where we get hurt, then the Army will have lost."

"I killed Optimus Prime!" Jazz was pleading. Was he after absolution? If so, then by punishment? Execution? Suicide? Beaten to a leaky dented cube?

"Prime is a lot tougher than even he thinks he is. The Matrix, all being one, did not select him at random. We spent a lot of time long ago whipping him into shape. He still has a few lessons to return to us."

"I stuffed it all up, mistake after mistake, and so many wounded," Jazz voice was losing volume, tiring as the emotions caught up sagged at his energies.

"You made errors. Errors happen. Miscalculations happen. You would rather they disobeyed you and not gotten wounded? Without discipline the Army breaks down. Without obedience the army breaks down. Mavericks can be tolerated because they bring the unexpected without the consequence of them being treated too seriously. You are now a leader of mechs. If you have the authority to lead you can not be the Maverick anymore."

"Roadbuster could."

"Roadbuster was a walking arsenal, but he very well understood where his own limits were. You do not have that sort of toughness nor that sort of self-understanding... yet." Prowl paused for a long moment before continuing. "Jazz, I am going to have to ask you to suppress yourself even further. You are going to have to take a major leadership role of the army while so many of the officer corps are wounded."

"And dead."

"Prime and the others are Missing in Action not dead. You will need to step up."

"Jetfire outranks me."

"Jetfire can not lead. It is not within his ability. It is within yours. Jetfire will support you. So will Ratchet, Blaster and Perceptor."

"I think it's too late man," Jazz was small voiced, resigned. "Someone else stepped up first." There was a sudden commotion coming from the medbay. Jazz turned to look, his interested piqued despite his bout of self-absorption. Prowl felt he was about to find out but asked the question anyway.

"Who?"




"Enough skulking. Autobots fight now. Find all Cons, we fight them NOW. White-bot, you make Me Grimlock's platoon mobile first."

"I have many wounded requiring attention, Red Alert and Silverbolt are crit..." Ratchet stared down Grimlock

"Do I SAY! Fix Slag, Snarl, Swoop and Sludge first."

"I do not care who you think you are! This is my medbay, my rules. When you have learnt to tell the difference between a major and a minor wound and a simple incapacity then you can decide my priorities." Grimlock's energo sword was suddenly in his great black gauntlet, fire raced along its almost imaginary length. Ratchet could feel its tip pressing against his neck, lightly scuffing and crackling against his livery. Grimlock said nothing further but took a step forwards, forcing Ratchet to step backwards. Jazz looked on horrified but was pinned to the spot. Blaster stepped through from the direction of theatre where Perceptor was in surgery, took in the tableau in a moment and the enormous black rifle he carried was in his hands pointing at Grimlock's head.

"Stand down Grimlock."

"Talkbot not tell me Grimlock what to do. Make Dinobots better."

"Dinowhats?" Jazz was entering the conversation, but not the confrontation.

"His four sleeping pals." Blaster face below his visored optics was set in a determined fix. A firefight in medical would be nothing short of a debacle. In the background a weak voice called to Jazz.

"I can not make them instantly better. I do not know how you re-activated because you will not let me study you," Ratchet's voice was building momentum with each word, not intimidated in the slightest by the hulking figure pressing him into the wall. "How can I help them without knowing what happened to you!"

"Ratchet, Blaster, stand down." The quiet voice held an edge to it the grabbed everyone's attention. Jazz had reappeared in the entrance to chamber bay, leaning heavily on his left flank was Prowl.

"Grimlock, I would ask that you join with me in private conference here with my adjutant while we discuss operational issues of the entire crew." Prowl left the implied threat hanging in the air, hoping some of Grimlock's former intelligence might still be intact beneath the corrupted syntax. After a long moment, the grey mech stood away from Ratchet. Once retreated from his confrontation he stomped immediately towards the white and black pair and Jazz almost dropped Prowl as he pulled his commander back from Grimlock's path.

"Sorry man." Jazz re-gathered his grip around Prowl's waist. Prowl looked at Jazz sternly, promising to himself to apologise to Jazz later but he needed to be as firm as he could to impress upon Grimlock that he was worthy of respect.

The big silver mech stood with somehow a posture both formal and frustrated. His arms fidgeted for a moment before aping the human notion of crossing them to keep them from doing something else.

"Grimlock, I have little doubt you could tear me apart if you wanted to take command of the Autobots here by force if you so chose, especially in my present condition."

"So?" Grimlock's voice left little doubt that he was seriously considering the notion.

"Leadership is more than just personal courage and strength. Would these Autobots obey your commands like they just now obeyed me?"

"If they want keep limbs." Grimlock's voice was not as firm as it had been previously.

"I know there has been a history of insubordination under your leadership, and so do you. Have you also noticed that none of your personal guard..."

"Make better now." The belligerence returned to his voice as it returned to his favourite theme.

"We'll get to medical priorities, we must settle leadership first. If we do not have a single direction, the Decepticons will divide us and conquer our factions as they please." Grimlock made no comment this time so he continued.

"Is it co-incidence Grimlock that your personal guard is made up of mechs who always agree with you?"

"They smart."

"When was the last time any of them disagreed with you or offered a contribution to a battle plan?"

"They loyal."

"They are stupid." Jazz tightened his grip on Prowl and freed one arm to hover it near his blaster butt. Surely Grimlock would react? Prowl did not flinch however in this game of power politics. After finger the hilt of his energo sword, Grimlock refolded his arms.

"Yes. Am true."

"Commanding the loyalty of Optimus Prime and Roadbuster's troops will require more than the force of your personality."

"True."

"You also have no patience for the minutiae of command. Procedures, training, administration."

"Prowl knows me Grimlock. Make point now." Prowl paused. If Ironhide was here he would cleave Prowl's head from his shoulders for contemplating such heresy as he was about to. Jazz may yet do it on his behalf, or at the very least drop him in startled astonishment, underlining the weakness of his position. Then there was Blaster's reaction to consider, he looked ready to assault Grimlock in medbay. Still this was the best compromise. Settling on a strategy every bit as important as mapping out the next battlefield, Prowl fixed Grimlock with a determined glare.

"Grimlock, I have a proposal..."

Definately well done! You really got the personalities of the crew in this, and it was awesome, to say the least!

--Chapter Fifty Two - Guerrilla Prophecy --

Arcee was no stranger to covert operations. Her entire life had been spent as a guerrilla fighter on Cybertron under the Command of Elita One. Tall and slender like a large number of Femmes, the sleek but deceptively armoured pink ground racer was well suited for escort duties and infantry fighting. However it was covert missions that were her stock in trade. Elita One was an aggressive Commander so the missions had a tendency to end in a combat mission at some point. This one had been different.

For over a month now Arcee and several others had rotated shifts just watching the newly refurbished Decepticon building. Elita One had established the stakeout out of curiosity to begin with. It looked like a warehouse. They found out quickly that it was only supposed to look like a warehouse. It had been built in an abandoned quarter of Cybertropolis which dated back to the time of Galvatron's ascension. Sunstorm had supervised its recent renovation, the yellow deputy air commander working on the project, along with others behind Cyclonus' back it seemed. Neither Cyclonus nor Galvatron appeared to be aware of anything within the structure that held sufficient significance to warrant the attention of the planets second highest ranked Seeker.

But it was the electrical activity that had attracted Elita's interest. Whenever electrical storms swept across this portion of Cybertron a great electrical discharge shot from the building and out into space. Delicate spark sensors placed at great personal danger to the espionage specialist who laid them, indicated after each discharge the number of sparks within the warehouse either increased or decreased. Speculation was rife that the Decepticons had created something capable of masking, or at least confusing spark detectors, although the connection with electrical storms was confusing. After six weeks of this subterfuge circumstances changed. Under clear skies an enormous antennae climbed into the air and a great energy disturbance was created around the antennae. What could and had been confused for an electrical discharge slammed into the antennae and flew down into the warehouse without the cover of an electrical storm.

What was this device? Plainly the Decepticons that had constructed it were using storms to cover its operation. This time there was no storm. Circumstances were obviously different.

"Did you see that Chromia?"

"Yes," said the firm voice of Arcee's companion. She had been watching the spark sensors and noticed numbers had suddenly increased. Other sensors then started to register energy discharges.

"Things will be getting very hot here shortly, pack the sensors and prepare the hatch for evacuation." As Chromia powered down her console and stowed it, it was becoming clear a fire fight was underway inside. It could spill into the street at any moment.

The Femme pair quickly evacuated their post and were retreating stealthily towards a ramp that led to the undercity when an explosion ripped the door from a freight entrance. A stubby red aircraft emerged from the smoking hole in the building and started circling low near the entrance. Arcee paused, entranced by the near unheard of internecine Decepticon conflict, for no Autobot would dare fight in the open on the surface of Galvatron's Cybertron. Three more red Decepticons emerged from the smoke pursued by Sunstorm. The red aircraft immediately fired a heavy cannon at Sunstorm and the Seeker staggered backwards unable to bring his weapons to bear.

Behind Arcee, Chromia had reached the building that contained the ramp and was calling to Arcee frantically on a sub-frequency. She held the ramp open and Arcee transformed, racing inside the dank tunnel beyond. The pair raced on down the tunnel in silence each trying to digest what they had seen.

"Arcee, we have to go back."

"What???"

"Someone is accessing the ramp doorway. We have to kill anyone who comes down this tunnel." The panicked urgency in her voice was palpable. The two cars spun and raced back to the first hard corner and set up an ambush for those following.

"The door closed far too quickly for a group of any size. Five at the most I think." Arcee nodded at the assessment, while attaching a suppressor to her carbine. In these close quarters the accuracy compromise a suppressor placed on a weapon would make little difference. The approaching vehicles slowed and transformed. They seemed to be aware that that the need to rush was no longer evident. The two Femmes readied themselves, each picking targets. They could see four of them. The two smaller ones led with Arcee planning to shoot the slender tall one at the back before dropping her carbine to deal with the smallest one with an energon knife. They began to pick up voices.

"Aah really don't like this Prahme. We've been gone a long time. I seriously doubt this access way would still be secure."

"Until we know better this is all we have to work with. Until we can make contact with Ultra Magnus. If we can."

"Change of plan," Chromia whispered. "Take them alive, grab the small one and stick the field-blade to his neck. I want to know why they need to see Magnus."

The first two stepped into the killzone and the Femmes pounced, Arcee racing across to grab the short winged figure and thumbed her blade into operation, taking the Decepticon by surprise. Chromia and the other one grappled briefly to a stalemate until the big one, carrying a huge rifle, ordered everyone to back off.

"I... I... Ironhide?" The scuffle to her left had quickly lost momentum. The two appeared to recognise each other, and despite the apparent danger immediately embraced and locked lips. The kiss was as short as it was dramatic in its impact. Both Arcee and her charge looked on in shock, while the slender tall one could not decide which bot to look at and raced his gaze back and forth amongst everyone.

"Babe you're the sorest sight for the sorest eyes on Cybertron," The one Chromia called Ironhide had a look on his face that Arcee had not ever seen on any Decepticon she was familiar with.

"Chromia?" This was the big one speaking. If Chromia's reaction to the blocky one surprised Arcee, she was downright astonished by her reaction now. Chromia plainly recognised this one too and fell to one knee, head bowed in a position of fealty.

"My life for the Prime." It was only now Arcee realised the four red 'Decepticons' had Autobrands splashed on shoulders, forearms and torsos.

"Chromia this is not necessary. We have known each other for vorns."

"Prime, you have been gone for so long. The Matrix had all but passed beyond memory," Chromia lifted her head to look at the big one directly. "Or hope. There are some that still remember the prophecies, that there would come a day, when the bearer would open the matrix and light our darkest hour, and scarcely has it ever been darker."

"Look this location is not as secure as we would like it to be." Arcee interjected into the semi-stunned reverie. Ironhide had his hands on Chromias shoulders and was helping her to her feet when she came out of her shocked state and remembered where she was.

"Arcee's right, we should get back to our cell. There will be a few messages to send. Oh and Arcee, for you this is Ironhide," she held up her right hand, now clasped by Ironhide's left hand. "And, umm I'm not sure about..." Chromia's hesitation was interrupted when the tall one took a step forward.

"Inferno ma'am." The smaller one, only now prised himself free from Arcee's relaxing grip.

"Ah'm Powerglide, terror of the skies," he said somewhat grandly and chuckled.

"And this," Chromia picked up again as the big one stepped forward once more, "is Optimus Prime." There was a clattering noise behind Arcee that she did not react to as she stood gape mouthed, staring at the mythical colossus.

"Excuse me, but I think you dropped your blade," said Powerglide with a chuckle, holding out Arcee's deactivated weapon.

NICE! Gotta love surprises like that!

*snrrk* Terror of the skies just got owned by a girl. And Ironhide and Chromia - awwwwww! There'd be a bit of Princess Bride about that kiss, if Ironhide was 99% dead... although I suppose a lot of the Earth crew does think he's 100% dead.

Meanwhile, one chapter earlier, poor Jazzy. I want to let him in on the secret we know from chapter 52. And I LOVE PROWL. As 99% dead as he is, he's still perfect for this moment for the Earth-bound guys. Although... if he's about to say to Grimlock what I think he might be about to say to Grimlock, that could be a rather large tactical error...