A/N: A logic-driven tactician? Check. A mad scientist? Check. A hyperactive Decepticon? Check. A grumpy police car? Check. A short-spoken communications officer? Check. All systems go.

A note on alt-modes: As the story progresses, it's going to become obvious that I know squat about cars and whatnot, and my brain does not retain such information easily. Hence the reason I gave Prowl and Wheeljack the alt-modes I did. Basically, I chose "upgraded" versions of their old G1 alt-modes. Example: Tracks was a Chevy Corvette C3 in G1 and if he shows up in this story, he would be a Chevy Corvette C5. Or if I couldn't find an "upgraded" version, I stayed with the makers. Wheeljack is still a Lancia, but he's not a Lancia Stratos Turbo. He's something a little less obvious. I mean, Wheeljack, it's great that you were a shiny, completely street-illegal racecar, but that doesn't fit with the whole "robots in disguise" thing. Except in the cases of Prowl and Sunstreaker. With them, I went retro. I like the appearence of both their alt-modes, but that's not the only reason I gave Sunny a Lamborghini Countach alt-mode. The Gallardo and Reventon are as shiny as hell, but you're more likely to see a Countach on the road. And yes, I have seen a Countach on the road. And I'm surrounded on all sides by corn and soybean fields.

I also tried to stay within the confines of the geography and location and what could be found there. Honestly, what are the odds of finding a Reventon in the middle of Nevada? No, you're more likely to find that in the L.A. area. What about a Datsun? That's a Japanese-made car and Prowl hit the Long Island Sound. Or what about a racecar in Cambridge? Wheeljack smashed into Harvard University and grabbed the first thing his trans-scanner approved of. I did my best to make the choices believable according to location and likelihood of being seen in said location.

So that's my reasoning. Just want to make sure you lot understand where I'm coming from before you say anything.

Disclaimer: Transformers is property of HasTak and some other companies whose names elude me.

'Til All Are One

Chapter Six: The Sound of Waves

Every comm. was standing wide open and each Autobot was leaning forward expectantly, just a bit. Sam had felt the slight shift in balance, being perched on Bee's shoulder and all. Beside him, Miles gripped his shoulder and the metal beneath him tighter, not used to being at least 18 feet off the ground with not a lot between him and a long fall. Sam didn't blame his friend. He was still getting used to this himself. On Bee's other shoulder, Sam could hear Mikaela bracing herself and swearing very softly.

They stood waiting for at least ten minutes, in which there was an aching silence. Then, his massive shoulders slumping, Optimus turned, perhaps to tell them to pack it up for the night and head back into the base; they might have to wait for a bit, but his optics suddenly got very wide and just as suddenly turned his back, two fingers pressing into the side of his head; in the same way Sam had seen those people at the supermarket do with their Bluetooth cockroach-lookin' things in their ear. Each Autobot leaned to the side slightly, tilting their heads in a remarkably human gesture; recognizing that their leader was receiving a transmission over his private comm line and were only one step away from mobbing him for information.

But they remained patient. Mostly.

At short length, Optimus turned back around, a relieved smile spreading across his faceplates.

"Wheeljack has arrived as well." he said.

There was silence, but only for a second.

And then Ratchet quite calmly said: "Bee's right. We are going to need a new base."

"And a friendly 'hello' to you too Ratchet." spoke a new, somewhat exasperated voice, seemingly right of Optimus's left arm. "I go saving Prowl's sorry aft and he doesn't thank me and then end up crashing somewhere that's overrun with the locals - one of whom is looking for me right now, actually - and the only 'hello' I get is from the big guy."

"Hi 'Jack." Jazz said loudly and pointedly.

Talk from there descended into a series of clicks and grunts and various other mechanical noises that Sam took to be the Autobots' native language. The newcomer sounded vaguely annoyed; it was difficult to tell over the comm link. Ratchet seemed to be a mixture of annoyed and happy. Ironhide was gruff, like usual. Bee only offered a few words; mindful that he had put his vocal processor under enough strain for the day, and Jazz seemed to be interrogating the newcomer; the questioning tone clearly heard in his speech. Optimus couldn't seem to get a word in edgewise and was momentarily resigned to letting his comrades chatter away.

Apparently feeling left out, LG stood perched on Miles's right shoulder, shrieking away and deafening Miles in one ear until the blonde teen grabbed the mini-mech off his shoulder and forcibly shoved it back into Sam's pants pocket. LG squawked indignantly and lashed out at Miles's hand. Sam made a mental note to try and keep LG and Miles separated for the next few weeks. Like it was with Mojo, it was clear that the two probably weren't going to get along very well for a while.

At length, the conversation died away and Optimus turned to the humans, looking perplexed.

"Do any of you recognize the location 'Currier House'?" he asked.

While the others shook their heads, Sam frowned. He had heard that before. He knew he had, but just where-

"Wait, 'Currier House' as in the Harvard Campus? The Quad?" he asked, frowning deeper still.

There was a pause before the reply came.

"I think so."

"And the person looking around for you," Sam started. "Wouldn't happen to be a girl with shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes, would it? Possibly named 'Jenna'?"

"...Yes."

Sam let out a sigh while Miles made a noise of understanding.

"You're in Cambridge, Massachusetts." Sam told the newcomer in a deadpan. "And you're being stalked by my older sister."

"You have a sister?" Mikaela asked, leaning around Bee's head to get a better look at her boyfriend.

"Yeah, and she's this total overachiever." Sam said, looking annoyed and disgruntled at the same time; a remarkable feat, seeing as the only person who had so far displayed such expressive skills was Ratchet. "Valedictorian. Class president. Even got skipped right over 3rd grade."

Clearly Sam had spent much of his life feeling overshadowed by his freakishly overachieving older sister.

"...Optimus? Is that one of the natives who was just talking?" The newcomer's voice sounded entirely too eager for its own good. Letting go of a gust of air that was supposed to be the Autobot version of a sigh, Optimus transferred two fingers back to the side of his head, indicating that he had switched back to the private line and suddenly, Ironhide and Bumblebee seemed very eager to hustle their human friends back to the base for the night.

"...Tranquility, Nevada. 41 degrees north, 118 degrees west, roughly. There are plenty of well-traveled roads and the GPS satellites haven't failed us yet. You shouldn't get lost."

"Thanks, Prime. I'll pick up Prowl along the way, if I can find him. He doesn't seem to be answering his comm."

"You both came down in the same general vicinity. But he was being pursued by the Decepticon triple-changers. He may be maintaining radio silence as a precaution."

"Maybe, but unlikely. If my bomb didn't outright fry their circuits, then they're not going anywhere fast. Either way, it's three less 'Cons that we have to worry about for a while."

"Indeed. And while I'm thinking about it, you wouldn't happen to have heard from Sideswipe at all, have you?"

"Hmm... Nope, I haven't heard anything from either of the Twins. Why, is there a problem?"

"Yes. We have Sunstreaker with us, but not Sideswipe."

"That is a problem. Well, when I run into Prowl, I'll ask him if he's seen Sideswipe."

"Thank you. Sunstreaker is becoming insufferable with his questions whenever he's awake. I think this may be the longest time the Twins have ever been separated and it is really starting to show."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Prime. By the way, this is a great planet."

"Indeed. I have thoroughly enjoyed the time we've spent here."

"Are we gonna be staying?"

"I imagine that we are going to be calling this planet 'home' before the year is out."

"Good. I can't wait to get a little in-depth studying done on organic life."

"Only you Wheeljack."

"What's that supposed to mean? Never mind. ETA: a week or thereabouts. Good to hear from you."

"Good to hear from you too, old friend. Prime out."

-Thurs. June 21st-

It was a calm summer night in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

Bridgeport was usually fairly calm most days anyways. When you ignored the fact that meteor had crashed into the Long Island Sound just last night and a few reports had gone up about some giant robot roaming the city streets at 3:00 a.m. The police had passed these reports off as hallucinations of a drunken idiot, given the late hours and whatnot.

But the funny thing was, nothing had turned up at the crash site when the authorities had dove in to investigate. Even then, it didn't take very long at all for the police to pass it off as some kind of elaborate hoax and life continued as normal.

However, some of the smart/paranoid people noticed that a second meteor had apparently destroyed south wall of the Harvard Quad auditorium and that there was giant robot involved in that one as well.

However, no one believed drunken college students celebrating the end of their exams.

But anyways, it was late enough at night that most sane people should have been in bed by this time, but a group of six teenagers- six drunken teenagers, were wending a weaving path back home. They were still reasonably coherent, though they couldn't walk a straight line anymore and would fail any tests if the cops caught them.

"Couldn't kick us out!" one of them hiccupped, shaking a fist in the general direction of the bar they had just been thrown out of. "Weren't doin' nothing bad. Stupid motherf-"

"No swearing!" another one interrupted, leaning over to punch his fellow in the arm and missed by a few inches. The others laughed as he stumbled right onto the hood of a car parked on the curb. "Sorry dude."

Then the colors of the car registered in his swilled brain.

"Copper! It's a copper!" he shouted in fear, staggering back from the black and white car.

The engine revved menacingly; the car surging forwards at the boys. Currently lacking common sense, the boys screamed and ran in all directions, scattering to various parts of town. The police car revved out of its parking spot and sped after the boy who had initially landed on its hood.

"Sorry! Sorry man! I'll pay for that!" the poor teen shouted, on the verge of wetting his pants.

In a desperate bid for escape, he tore down an alley barred halfway by a chain-link fence. Despite the number of drinks he had ingested, he scaled the fence and hit the ground on the other side running. The police car's engine revved one more time, as if to shout: "You'd better run!"

If the teenager had been sober, he might have noticed that the police car was from Las Vegas, Nevada and not Bridgeport, Connecticut. He also might have noticed that the words on the side of the car did not say 'To protect and serve', but rather 'To punish and enslave'.

He might have at least noticed that there hadn't been anyone driving the police car, but some things were just too much to hope for.

Barricade wasn't supposed to be tormenting the stupid little fleshies right now, but he'd gotten bored and the annoying human had landed on his hood. There was going to be a grease mark left; he just knew it. Besides, it was fun.

Megatron was gone and Starscream had fled, presumably to round up reinforcements and Primus only knew when he would be coming back; if he would be coming back. There was every chance he had just turned tail and ran without looking over his shoulder. As it stood now, Barricade was the only really functional Decepticon left on this mushy planet. He had not participated in the final battle, not after seeing Bonecrusher get completely shanked by Optimus Prime. There was no way in the Pit was he going to subject himself to that.

So Barricade had doubled back and headed to the Hoover Dam; the last known location of Frenzy. He simply had to retrieve the crazy little cassetticon or else Soundwave would be very, very angry with him.

Soundwave did not loan out his precious cassettes to anyone - barring Megatron, that is - and he certainly did not do it lightly. He did not trust that his fellow Decepticons would take proper care of any of them and usually threatened some painful disembowelment/dismemberment. Knowing this - he'd gotten the long and, in his opinion, completely unnecessary speech - Barricade had picked up Frenzy from the Dam, repaired the cassetticon to the best of his abilities, and had then sent a message off to Soundwave, knowing that his fellow Decepticon would pick it up easily and probably come running. True to Barricade's thoughts, Soundwave had responded almost immediately, demanding a rendezvous point and had spent the next three weeks radioing in to report his status and location every three or four hours.

Barricade was still not pleased with Frenzy's current condition - he was more incoherent than before and Barricade hoped that Soundwave could do something about that; the Saleen wouldn't admit it, but he'd grown somewhat attached to the skittering little hacker - but he supposed that it could have been a lot worse. After all, Frenzy could have been dead.

Barricade made his way to the rendezvous point, Frenzy babbling up an incoherent storm and bouncing all over the back seat like he had ingested far too much coffee.

"Frenzy! Stop that!" Barricade snapped, swerving wildly across the road, somewhat disappointed that he was only car on this stretch of pavement. The cassetticon smacked into the rear window, his landing spot off by a just few inches.

"D-Don'ttt t-tell-lm-me-ee-e wh-wha-aat-tt to-odo-o-o-dodo-odooo-o- zkk!" Frenzy snapped back, making a rude face at the Saleen's steering wheel and sticking up both his middle fingers. "Fffrraag ooffff! Yyy-ou'rrre nnnot my crrreee-aatoorrr!"

The Decepticon sighed internally. Every time he had told Frenzy to stop doing something, the cassette always replied with that. The hacker was starting to feel the separation anxiety that came from being apart from his siblings and creator for too long.

And speaking of storms, there was one rolling in right now. Barricade could almost smell the electricity gathering in the atmosphere. He really hoped Soundwave had arrived with no trouble. Frenzy would get depressed if his creator didn't arrive at the appointed time with the rest of the cassettes and a depressed Frenzy usually led to a bored Frenzy which inevitably led to Frenzy wanting to cause all sorts of trouble which included causing Barricade to have a massive headache.

Nonetheless, Barricade swung into the empty parking lot and waited, his engine idling for a moment or two before he decided to turn it off. There was no point in wasting unnecessary energy. He would probably be back to fighting the Autobots at random moments sometime in the near future and it wouldn't do to be dead tired.

"Rurumble." Frenzy piped up suddenly and pressed his face against the window. His hands fiddled with the door handle, trying to wrench it open. After watching Frenzy struggle with it for a moment, Barricade took some pity on the cassetticon and released the door catch. Frenzy bolted out and across the black tarmac of the parking lot, heedless of the gathering storm.

Meanwhile, Barricade transformed to standard-mode, deeming it safe to do so, as his scanners detected no conscious organic life within a five-mile radius. Just because Frenzy could somehow go completely unnoticed on an air-strip overrun with authority fleshies worried about their pathetic nation leader did not mean that Barricade could.

The air overhead did a sudden whoosh!, blowing a scattering of discarded burger wrappers and brown crunchy leaves; leftovers from the previous fall that managed to avoid becoming compost. Something flickered on the edge of his sensors and Barricade looked up. There was something blue and gray silhouetted against the black clouds and judging from the way Frenzy was acting, that was Soundwave overhead.

Right on time.

The blue-gray shape in the air shifted and resolved itself into the recognizable form of the 3rd in command of the Decepticon army. Well, technically now 2nd in command in the wake of Megatron's destruction. Barricade felt a shot of disappointment that he didn't get to see Soundwave's alt-mode.

The blue mech landed with an earth-jarring thud in front of Barricade, the pavement cracking and splitting. Frenzy was on the Communications Officer in seconds, crawling all over him and spasming out enthusiastic greetings. Ignoring Barricade, Soundwave opened the compartment right beneath his chassis and released the rest of his cassettes, all of whom happily steam-rolled Frenzy in their rush to welcome him back to the fold. He wasn't having that sort of reunion anywhere near his spark.

"Frenzy's status: injured." Soundwave intoned in his usual monotone. His optics narrowed on the transformed Saleen. "Repairs: shoddy."

Barricade glanced across the parking lot where Frenzy was twittering madly to his ecstatic twin Rumble; practically jumping around, no doubt relating his adventures on this sorry mudball of an excuse for a planet. Ravage looked supremely unconcerned, as only a feline-type mech could; Ratbat was hanging on to the hacker's every word and coming dangerously close to getting hit upside the head every time Frenzy merely moved; Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were wisely edging back to avoid being whacked by one of Frenzy's flying fists.

Truth be told, it was difficult to tell the Frenzy had even gotten his entire head lopped off by his own weapons. There was only a faint seam running down the middle of his head and one wouldn't notice it unless they were looking very closely. But this was Soundwave and he knew his cassettes inside and out. So of course he would be able to tell.

"I did the best I could under the circumstances." Barricade said defensively. "At least he is still functioning."

"True." Soundwave conceded, his expression unreadable under the mask and visor. "Megatron's defeat?"

"True as well." Barricade said, crossing his arms. "Obviously Starscream's jumped on the position of command again."

"Megatron is not dead." Soundwave said assuredly. "He will return."

Not if I have anything to say about it. Thought someone parked on the edge of the lot. That someone was an Autobot, Prowl.

Prowl was currently sitting in the disguise of a 1969 Chevrolet Impala, police car version, newly restored thanks to his trans-scanner, acquired not long after crawling out of the Long Island Sound.

Optimus had failed to mention just how organic this planet was, even if there was a fair amount of technology lurking around. Prowl had been dripping water for half a day and much to his disgust, a few dead fish had dropped out of his undercarriage. A rotten fishy smell was still lingering, much to the displeasure of his olfactory sensors.

He was also having trouble accessing the satellites to determine both his position and where that was in relation to the rest of the Autobots. He suspected his dip in the cold water had shorted out a few circuits here and there; just enough to cause him a real headache. He wasn't exactly sure what had all been damaged, but he was absolutely certain that he was not going to like it when he found out.

He being an eavesdropper on this meeting between the two Decepticons had been entirely unexpected and unplanned. All he had been doing was taking a nap with the intention of getting right back up to continue searching for Wheeljack. But then, here came Barricade - And it's "To protect and serve" you slagger. - with Frenzy in tow, waking him out of the short recharge. He'd stiffened when Soundwave had followed shortly thereafter in a flying alt-mode, unusual for a communications officer. Prowl promptly squished any excitement that he might have felt - convinced that he had spent far too long on his own - settled in to listen to what the Decepticons were talking about. It would not due to get caught by the six cassettes that were practically frolicking on the tarmac about halfway between the Decepticons and himself, until he gleaned some useful and possibly crucial information that might have to be relayed to Prime at the first opportunity.

"Transmissions from Starscream?" Soundwave was asking now.

"As far as I'm aware, he's been off the planet for a while now." Barricade replied, sounding sour. "Why? Is he coming back?"

There was a noticeable note of contempt in the Decepticon's voice. Prowl knew that Starscream wasn't greatly liked by his comrades. Something about frequent bids for power if his memory circuits weren't faulty.

"Transmission from Starscream: received and ignored." Soundwave stated. "Your transmission: priority number one."

"I feel honored." Barricade said dryly. "You just wanted Frenzy back."

"Trust for you: limited." Soundwave informed him.

"You don't trust anyone with your precious cassettes." Barricade said snidely. Soundwave made a 'humph'ing noise, but otherwise said nothing. Prowl strained not to lean closer for a better listen. He'd never heard of Soundwave voluntarily loaning out his cassettes to anyone other than Megatron. He was simply too protective of them. He had created them after all.

"Ooooh... Wha-at'ss thi-this?" Rumble asked, sounding very close by. He was virtually indistinguishable from his twin, save for his red optics and considerably less stuttering speech patterns.

Prowl realized in horror that the cassetticon was poking his back fender; like a youngling fascinated by a shiny object.

"F-fun-nny-yener-nergy re-re-rea-rreadi-ingssss. Faam-mili-iar... " Frenzy hissed, skittering up beside his twin with the rest of the cassettes lingering in the background. Something in the cassette's processor buzzed and he said the one thing Prowl had been praying he wouldn't say.

"Autobo-ott-zkk! H-Here-re! S-sspyiing!- Jaa!- Auto-too-tobot!-"

Barricade and Soundwave looked around at Frenzy's shout. More or less caught, Prowl transformed to standard-mode before the two nutso cassettes could sharpen their claws on his armor. Barricade snarled as the Autobot revealed himself and charged up his main guns.

"Attack!" Soundwave barked out, rarely-heard anger seeping into his monotone voice.

"Bring it." Prowl dared, making a 'come on' motion with one hand.

So the Decepticons brought it.

Right then, Prowl realized that he was rather- er, outnumbered.

Eight Decepticons against one Autobot.

The odds of winning were quickly computed and he realized that said odds were definitely not in his favor.

And he was still sporting the damages from his run-in with the triple-changers.

"Uh... No way."

And he ran.

Of course, the Decepticons weren't about to give up on a good fight, so they gave chase.

Prowl ran through the city streets. Since a fight was inevitable, he didn't exactly want to be responsible for crushing recharging humans. He felt it best to get away from the town completely.

Not that Barricade let him.

The Decepticon launched himself at the Autobot, shoving him into a shopping center; glass and metal shattered with a squealing sort of crash. Prowl struggled to stand, but Barricade punched him across the faceplates. Prowl retaliated and pinned Barricade to ground.

"Give me one good reason to disconnect your head from your body." Prowl said.

Barricade smacked him across the faceplates again, throwing him onto yet another shopping center.

"Good enough for me." Prowl muttered and tackled the Decepticon. He possessed the upper hand for a five mere seconds until Laserbeak, Buzzsaw and Ratbat saw fit to dive-bomb him and Barricade took advantage of his momentary distraction and kicked him onto a third shopping center.

A tactical withdrawal was seriously in order here. Even without the mostly non-combative Soundwave, the Autobot was still grossly outnumbered. And the cassetticons were small annoying- things that could get just about anywhere.

Prowl switched back to alt-mode to seek out a better fighting arena. Barricade did the same, Rumble and Frenzy clinging to his hood and laughing insanely. They swerved through the roads at speeds that definitely weren't street-legal for this setting and anyone looking out their windows couldn't figure out what had happened to the giant robots from earlier; why a large robot cat was rushing down the street, looking disgruntled; or why an out-of-state cop car with strange little metal gremlins on the hood was chasing another cop car that was local.

Tires screaming in protest, Prowl swerved around another car, a 2003 dark gray Lancia Thesis that had lurched suddenly out of an alley.

"Watch it slag-heap!" the Autobot couldn't help throwing out. He had no desire to end up as a crunchy metal pancake when there was a Decepticon slagger on his aft.

"Watch who you're calling a slag-heap Prowl!" the Lancia sniped back, causing Prowl to nearly T-bone himself on a lamp post. The Lancia kept pace beside him while he straightened himself out and rummaged around frantically in his memory banks, searching for the owner of the voice, as it was one he'd heard only briefly before the mass exodus from Cybertron and switched over to the private comm.

"Whe- Wheeljack?" he stuttered in surprise. He had not factored an ally into the equation.

"The one and only!" Wheeljack replied brightly, full of glee to find a friendly face. "I would have contacted you when I got here, but there were some technical difficulties and a small problem with the locals. So, who's that chasing us?"

"Barricade."

"With Rumble and Frenzy on top?"

"Yes."

"I presume Soundwave and the rest aren't too far behind?"

"You presume correctly."

"Slag..." Prowl got the impression that Wheeljack would have been shaking his head had he not been in alt-mode. "One day here and we've already gotten into a fight with Decepticons."

"No, I got into a fight with Decepticons." Prowl corrected. "You just stuck your nose in."

Wheeljack didn't get the opportunity to respond because Prowl had decided that they had reached an appropriate fighting arena that was far enough away from the humans; the beach. The Impala hit the brakes, sending his front end around to where his back end should have been and transformed. Wheeljack followed suit. Prowl like the odds a little better now. Barricade transformed on the fly and went after Wheeljack first, grappling with the newcomer. Taking advantage of the fact that it was now two-on-one, Prowl seized Barricade from behind and proceeded to pry him off.

Jibbering unintelligibly, Rumble and Frenzy unleashed a small volley of their own weapons - shuriken-like CDs - at the two Autobots in an attempt to assist the overwhelmed Barricade. Unfortunately, the backside of any mech did not contain anything truly vital, and the weapons only dinged harmlessly off the metal plates.

It was times like these where Barricade wished the Cassetticons were more effective in combat and/or that Soundwave - who was now standing behind the motionless Ravage - actually got off the sidelines and fought. He wouldn't be so outnumbered if that was so.

"Soundwave!" Barricade hollered, attempting to throw off Wheeljack so he could properly deal with Prowl. "Soundwave, get off your aft and help me!"

But Soundwave remained the silent, looming figure behind Ravage.

Barricade cursed rather loudly and violently.

"You need a lesson in manners!" Prowl decided, heaving the Decepticon away from his partner and dragging him towards the Long Island Sound.

"Get your hands off me, filthy Pit-scum!" Barricade spat, struggling mightily to get away from the water. He did not want to end up in there.

"Wheeljack, give me a hand over here." Prowl requested, having a hard time holding the Decepticon still.

"Sure thing."

Wheeljack grabbed Barricade's flailing arm - the one with the cannon on it - that Prowl hadn't been able to contain, and they prepared to toss the Decepticon into the nice cold water of the Sound.

"For Primus's sake Soundwave! Are you going to help me or not?" Barricade roared, craning his neck over his shoulder. Rumble and Frenzy had fallen back, red and blue optics, respectively, fixated on the scene before them as though this was some amusing show. Laserbeak, Buzzsaw and Ratbat were circling overhead but otherwise doing nothing, and Ravage was still silent at Soundwave's feet.

No, he wasn't going to be getting any help from them.

Pit-fragging, Primus-forsaken slaggers.

Prowl and Wheeljack tossed Barricade deep into Long Island Sound. He hit with a mighty splash and with much thrashing, sank quickly, because not very many mechs were buoyant. They turned to the rest of the Decepticons, as if to say: 'You want a piece of us?'

Soundwave raised a hand and five of the cassettes withdrew, disappearing into the darkness. Ravage stayed to glare at them a moment longer, before turning and following his comrades.

Prowl and Wheeljack exchanged a high-five, ignoring Barricade who was blubbering out there somewhere in the Sound, fighting to stay on the surface and not having much success with the endeavor. With one final defeated "glub" sound, Barricade sank, sulking, beneath the water's surface.

Pleased with their victory, the Autobots grinned at each other. Or rather, Wheeljack grinned and Prowl merely smirked, though it was an extraordinarily smug and self-satisfied smirk.

"Primus, Prowl what happened to your arm?" Wheeljack asked suddenly, seizing the left arm of the SIC. Prowl looked down and noticed for the first time, its blackened and scorched state. His public comm line was probably shot. Now that he had noticed it, the pain kicked in with a vengeance and Prowl hissed softly when the inventor touched the blackened part, gritting his dental plates.

"The triple-changers, I imagine." Prowl replied while Wheeljack surveyed the damage. He was no medic by any means - that was Ratchet's territory - but after many, many years of accidentally blowing himself up in the name of science, basic first-aid had been something he'd learned very quickly.

"And thank you, by the way." Prowl added. "For the bomb."

"Anytime." Wheeljack said amiably, turning Prowl's arm left and right to get a full look. "Surface damage mostly, and a shot comm line, among other things." He peered at the SIC curiously. "You've also got fried circuits all over the place."

"I hit the water upon landing." Prowl said blandly, jerking a thumb at the Sound with his free hand.

"That'll do it." Wheeljack muttered distractedly, apparently still engrossed with Prowl's arm. He finally relinquished it after another moment and said: "I know where to find Prime and the others."

"Good. I believe that one of my fried circuits is my communications link." Prowl said, taking a brief examination of his arm himself. "Where are they?"

Wheeljack was about to reply when something large, dark, and incredibly fast swooped in low over their heads. They ducked reflexively as an aircraft shot out over the Sound, more or less, hovering over where Barricade had sunk.

The aircraft had a wedged, wing-shape. It looked like it had been built for speed and stealth. It was sleek and matte black and, most likely, very deadly.

A missile bay opened up on the underside and with a strong suction-force, sucked an alarmed Barricade out of the water, shedding the liquid in every direction. Both Wheeljack and Prowl could see Rumble and Frenzy in the cockpit, laughing manically, shaking their fists, and making unrecognizable but undoubtedly very rude hand gestures at the two Autobots.

The aircraft lifted away from the water, swooping high into the air and streaking off to the west.

"They're that-away." Wheeljack said in a small voice, still somewhat spooked. He pointed in a westerly direction. "'Bout a weeks' travel. Maybe less."

"What are we waiting for?" Prowl asked rhetorically.

Wheeljack jumped back to alt-mode and tried to rev off, but discovered that his tires weren't designed to move over sand.

"On the pavement, Wheeljack." Prowl muttered. He walked off the beach before going back to alt-mode and waited patiently for Wheeljack to get himself off the sand. The Lancia finally managed to join him minutes later and with a purposeful roar of their engines, they set off to the west and to Tranquility, Nevada.