So close, and yet so far. 

    Optimus had found nothing in Kickback’s quarters, no records,  no evidence of communication, nothing. He had torn the room apart looking for something, anything. It seemed that the only hope was Megatron, and his cruel interrogation techniques. Thus far, they had yielded nothing. 

    Four days had passed, and Kickback had nothing but damaging insults to offer. Megatron had worked him for hours upon hours, with no success. Now, they were ten days away from the final deadline. Bumblebee hadn’t returned from his mission to locate the Predacons, and even if he had, Optimus didn’t think he could go through with the extermination. He was above starting this era with a genocide, however small it may be. 

    However, the urge to just go through with it was there. All he wanted was his mate, home safe, in his arms. Perhaps Kickback was right. Perhaps he was selfish and foolish. 

    How much was too far, where was the line? Had he already crossed it? 

    There wasn’t much time to ponder. Right now, he had to juggle locating the Predacons, interrogating Kickback, and rebuilding the city. 

    “Do you think we’re close?”

    Bumblebee was panting, his leg muscles cramping in pulsing aches. “I don’t know.” He admitted, glancing over his shoulder. Those following him paused, groaning. “We’re on their trail, but I don’t know how long it’s been.” He vented. “If we just go a little further-”

    “Bumblebee, the lot of us are exhausted. We won’t be much good for hunting Predacons if we can’t walk.” A red mech just behind him cut in, offering kindly but matter-of-factly. 

    “Perceptor is right. If we don’t rest, who knows what can happen.” Another mech looked around worriedly. “Filthy scavengers, rogues, Insecticons. . . Something bad will find us, and we’ll be helpless to defend ourselves.” He chewed on the tips of his digits nervously.
   
    “It may have been a mistake to bring him along.” Ultra Magnus murmured to Bumblebee.

    “I chose everyone here for a reason.” The scout replied confidently. The tall blue mech hummed thoughtfully. Magnus had been reluctant to enter a mission where he’d answer to Bumblebee, but Optimus had personally encouraged it. “Red Alert, nobody is going to attack us. Especially in Predacon turf. Everyone dangerous has already been chased out.”

    “Personally, I’d take an Insecticon over a Predacon.” Perceptor said unhelpfully. 

    “I don’t want either!” Red Alert whined. 

    “We’ll get to the top of this ravine, and then we’ll rest for a bit.” Bumblebee turned to face forward again, carrying on the steep trek upward. The others followed, grumbling. 

    Aching, exhausted, grasping consciousness, Bee made it to the top, and helped pull his comrades onto level ground. They all crumbled, groaning, passing compact energon cubes to one another. Bumblebee walked a large circle around the area, looking for signs of passing. Excitement flashed in his optics as he came across a monstrous clawed footprint. “Perceptor! Come look!” He called. The red mech approached him tiredly. “I want you to examine this, and tell me if it’s new.” 

    Perceptor transformed, rotating his scope to hover above the footprint. “I’d say within the past few hours.” He concluded after a moment.

    “That’s good news, we’re close.” Bumblebee smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Perceptor.” 

    “Is it good news?” Red Alert shuddered, subconsciously shifting closer to Ultra Magnus. “I don’t want to be any closer to those beasts. Why I was chosen for such a mission is beyond me.” 

    “Agreed.” Magnus muttered. Red Alert sent him an offended look.

    “All we have to do is locate them, we don’t have to fight.” Bumblebee reassured as he walked back over. “And then, all we have to do is call Optimus.” 

    “And trek back, since Ultra Magnus doesn’t have his ship.” Perceptor sighed.

    “And why doesn’t he?” Red Alert gestured in frustration. “It’d be a lot more helpful!”

    “Optimus needs both the Jackhammer and Magnus’ ship for searching for Rumble, and once we find him, they’ll need both to get a sizable team there, transport Ratchet safely, and bring back the ‘cons as prisoners.” Sitting down with a heavy sigh, Bee replied. “But don’t worry, once we know where Predaking is, we’ll be bridging home.” 

    They spent some time in silence, resting their optics and taking a moment to just relax. Their surroundings were beautiful. It was a rural section of Cybertron, a thick forest with hedges of crystals and deep ravines leading to rivers. For days, they had been following a path of destroyed trees and clawed footprints, evidence of Predacons coming crashing through. The journey was exhausting. 

    “Did you hear that?” Red Alert startled suddenly.

    “What, you interrupting my power down?” Perceptor mumbled tiredly. 

    Red Alert had leapt to his pedes, facing the woods, armor rattling fearfully. “Perhaps you were dreaming?” Bumblebee offered.     

    “War is known to damage one’s mental state.” Ultra Magnus said quietly.

    “I’m not crazy!” Red Alert complained. “Listen, I swear I heard-”

    There was the crack of a tree splitting, and the thundering of heavy pedes. The Autobots leapt to their pedes, jumping back just in time to dodge the upper half of a tree flying in their direction. “It would seem that we found them.” Perceptor announced.

“Or that they found us.” Bumblebee fought the urge to arm himself. 

“I told you I wasn’t crazy!” Red Alert gasped as a scaly beast pushed through the tree trunks, baring shining teeth. The creature tucked his wings close to his body and pulled his horned helm up high, roaring. 
   
    “Is that Predaking?” Preceptor's back hit a tree as he jumped at the startling sound.

    Bumblebee’s optics cycled wide. “No!” He realized aloud. This Predacon was clad with lighter colors, bearing some of the same features as the King of Beasts, but still noticeably different. He was smaller, sleeker. “Is it Darksteel or Skylynx?” The scout sputtered to Magnus.

    “I don’t believe so.” The large mech shook his helm.

    “I thought there were only three!” Red Alert looked ready to blow a fuse. “Who is this?!”

    The Predacon shrieked a mighty cry, before lunging forward. Bee regretted not arming himself as powerful jaws locked around Preceptor's shoulder, ripping his pauldrons as he was violently shaken and tossed aside. He transformed a servo, firing, shouting at Red Alert to help Perceptor as he and Ultra Magnus drew the beast’s attention. 

    This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

   
    Kickback’s screams echoed through the holding cell. Megatron held the prod’s tip tight against his delicate neck cables, counting the seconds, turning his helm away so as to not be blinded by the flashing light. He let his servo fall away, leaving the Insecticon gasping. “Did your superiors in the mines use prods on you when you misbehaved?” He spat.

    “It doesn’t have to be this difficult.” Megatron gritted his denta. “You could put a stop to this.”

    “Who says I want to?” Purring, Kickback smiled up at him. “I think I’m getting to you more than you’re getting to me. That’s not right, is it?”

    “I have been generous. I haven’t caused permanent damage.” The warlord ignored him, engines rumbling deeply as he growled. “Do you know why?”

    “Because Daddy said not to?”

    “Because I am willing to let you walk away from this.” Megatron said firmly. “This is your last chance to leave here freely, with no lasting damages. This is your last chance at mercy. Tell me where Rumble has the medic.” 

    “I noticed you stopped calling him all those fun slurs. Is it because it upset your Master? Did Master want you to treat Ratchet with respect?” The Insecticon seemed to ignore his offer, happily questioning him right back.

    “I’m going to rip you open, Bug.” Megatron hissed, stabbing the prod into the back of Kickback’s servo, making it all the way through to the arm of the chair. A screech of pain followed. “Knock Out, any luck with the patch?” He called over the pained wails. 

    In the corner of the room Knock Out was fussing over the broken patch. “The fragger really tore it apart, I can’t fix it. If Ratchet was here. . .” He huffed. “I say, start cutting off his damn limbs.”

    “Are you going to take orders from that diva now too?” 

    Megatron buried his frustration deep in his chest. Never before had he met someone so. . . Bulletproof. This mech seemed to be happy to take the torture, so long as he got to verbally abuse them. He pondered what horrible thing he’d do next.

    Knock Out suddenly stood up, his chair shrieking against the metal floor. “I’m coming.” He hissed into his com, sprinting for the door.

    “The Predacons are repopulating.” 

    A chill went down Optimus’ backstrut. He watched Magnus and Bulkhead carry Preceptor’s battered frame into the medbay, leaving a trail of energon. “Did you find Predaking?” He asked.

    Bumblebee shook his helm. “Only his offspring.” 

    “Is anyone else injured?”

    “Not as badly as Preceptor, but we’ll need attention.” The scout was beaten and bloody. He clutched his arm. “I’m so sorry, Optimus.”

    “You don’t need to be.” Optimus patted his shoulder gently. “I am sorry to have put you all in such a position.” He watched the team he had sent shuffle into the medbay, tired, battered and drained. 

    This was hopeless. 

   
    Optimus buried his face into his pillow that night, sobbing. His entire world had been ripped apart and tossed before him. There was no way he could hunt the Predacons, especially now that they had a growing population. The only hope was Kickback breaking, and he had shown no signs. The cruel Insecticon seemed to take joy in his sessions with Megatron. 

    He knew what this meant, and it broke him.

    They wouldn’t be able to save Ratchet. He and the unborn sparkling would be killed, punishment for Optimus’ failure to follow through. 

    Everything Optimus had built was crashing down, and he was suffocating in the rubble. His spark ache for his mate. His spark ached for the family he had hoped to raise. 

    This was really it. 

    He cried so hard his frame trembled, armor rattling loudly. He just wanted his mate. Seeing him in the pictures and videos Rumble sent to him only made him feel worse. 

    What was Optimus going to do? How was he supposed to move on? He was certain that it was impossible. Would he hurt this way forever? 

    His weeping pushed him to an exhaustion, and he fell into a troubled recharge. 

    The sound of cabinets opening woke Optimus, and he jolted. Quickly, he leapt from the berth, transforming a servo into a blaster and blinking himself awake. Who was in his home? 

    Carefully, he softly trod down the hall towards the living area and kitchen. He groaned when he glimpsed his worst enemy, opening his cabinets and sipping high grade energon. “Megatron, why?” He stepped into the kitchen, crossing his arms. “And how do you keep getting in here?”

    “Was hoping that they may have left something behind when they took him.” The warlord mumbled.

    “In the cabinets?”

    “I didn’t come here for your snark, Prime.” Megatron shot him a look, taking a long swig from the pink cube. 

    “Drinking in the morning?”

    “Kickback kept me up all night. I don’t think I can do it.” Red optics stared intensely into the contents of the magenta cube; Megatron glared into it bitterly. “He won’t tell me.”

    Optimus felt tears well up, but they didn’t leave his optics. “Keep trying.” He quietly pleaded.

    “Optimus, we failed.” The warlord whirled around to hiss at him. “Kickback was our last hope! That pathetic insect beat us.”

    The Prime opened his mouth to argue, but a muffled beeping in his subspace cut him off. He pulled out the datapad Rumble had left for him. An incoming transmission. He sighed. “Rumble is calling, or he wants to send me something.” He glanced at Megatron. “Stay out of the frame.” Setting the datapad on the counter, he answered the call, and was answered with a two way feed.

    “Hey there, Lover-bot.” Rumble crooned. “Thought you’d want an update.” 

    Ratchet was in a chair this time, tied down. Skywarp’s clawed servo was resting on his large stomach. Optimus vented. “What do you want to tell me, Rumble?”

    “Your sparkling is kicking! A lot, too. It’s a feisty little one.” Ratchet squirmed as his middle was pet, whining in complaint.

“Rumble, about your final demand,” Optimus began, ignoring the bittersweet news.

    Across from the table, Megatron had dropped his cube. It clattered to the floor, spilling the rich fluid everywhere. His optics were wide. Optimus stared at him.

    “Yes?” 

    “. . . I am nearly done.” The Prime lied, drawing his attention back. Megatron’s energy had doubled, and he was gesturing wildly. “If you’ll excuse me, I will be tending to that shortly.” Optimus’ spark was pounding. 

    “Don’t care for the news, then? Oh, well, don’t let us keep you.” Rumble quirked an optic ridge. “Are you already fragging someone else? Is that what you’re ‘tending to’?”

    Optimus balked. “Ratchet, I have not given up. I will get you back. Please, hold on just a little bit longer.” He said firmly. “I have to go.” 

    “We’ll try again tomorrow. Perhaps then you’ll be more motivated to speak with us.” Rumble glanced over his shoulder, snapping. On que, Thundercracker pressed a sharp talon to Ratchet’s cheek, just below his optic, digging it inward and dragging it downwards roughly. Ratchet yelped as fresh energon ran down his face, turning his helm away from the seeker and wincing. 

    The feed ended. 

 “It had better be good news.” Sighing, Optimus set the datapad aside, turning his attention to the excited warlord.

    Megatron leant against the counter, uttering in a confident, strong tone, “They are in the Pits of Kaon.”