What was once a beautiful dwelling, was nothing more than ashes. Smoldering wood decayed, bricks fell over and crumbled, and the fires began to spread over once happy memories in the form of family pictures. All in rubble, nothing left. You couldn't tell if someone had survived, or even lived through it. No human could.

One of the piles of rubble began to move. Not because it was falling over, but a yellow arm covered in ash began to push it off. Pulling out of the rubble, was Sour Sweet. Her face was visibly scared, hurt, and traumatized. Walking out, one of her legs was limping, painfully. She looked down and only trembled some more, seeing the fracture within. A piece of the plywood stuck in her leg, and she was unwilling to reach down and pull it out. Only would have hurt some more.

"N-Nothing to worry... no, no, no... u-uranium fever has gone and... g-got me down... death and destruction is spreading all around..." Sour's voice shakily sung.

Lifting her left hand up as best as she could, shaking like a leaf, a small remote control was in her palm. Her finger slid over a red button, and pressed on it, praying it would still work. It had to be.

---

At Autobot Headquarters, everything was slowly getting underway. Blastwave had been woken up, and he was give a quick summary of everything that Flareup had explained and what they knew so far. Nothing else really came to mind of what to do, so now he had to adjust to the new base of operations.

Stomping his green heels onto the floor, he approached the twins who first greeted him.

"Hey, look who's finally awake," Sideswipe smirked.

"Thought you would have drifted off with Sleeping Beauty by now," Sunstreaker joked.

The larger Autobot raised a brow, confused. The brothers joking quickly ended.

"Its a long story. Anyways, welcome to the Ark! I'm Sideswipe, this is my brother Sunstreaker," Sideswipe introduced.

"What's up?" Sunstreaker asked.

Blastwave nodded at the twins, and made a few hand gestures to reply. It took them both a little while, but Blastwave managed to get his message to them. Somehow, Sideswipe managed to still remember all of the sign-language that Fluttershy taught him at one point during their visit, helping him communicate with some of the non-speaking students at CHS.

"Not... a... talker... lost... speech--oh dang..." Sideswipe's mouth drooped.

"Sorry to hear that, bro," Sunstreaker sympathized.

Blastwave gave a small smile, understanding the yellow Autobot.

"Well, hey, if you ever need someone to listen, we'll listen to ya. In the meantime, why don't you just get settled in, there's time to meet everybody here. Or, what's left of everyone," Sideswipe remarked as he and his brother walked past him.

"You think we should tell them about our rogue gallery?"

"Nah, let him find out. Let him figure it out on his own, he'll get the idea. In a bit."

After the two brothers left, Blastwave turned his head around to see a familiar face; Flareup.

"Oh. Hello, Blastwave," Flareup scowled.

Blastwave growled back at the smaller Autobot.

"So. I take it you got notified of our current events?"

The bigger bot just nodded.

"Stuck here, on this rock... and with Ironhide gone... who's gonna stop me from wrestling you and taking you apart?"

Blastwave's claws clashed and a pair of twin blasters unfolded on each arm. Flareup just growled and unfolded hers as well.

You have a lot of nerve trying to pick a fight with me again, Blastwave thought.

Both eyes locked onto each other, and both of them had their weapons out. Any moment, the other could strike and attack. Thankfully, someone interrupted just in time.

"Hey, what's the big idea boys?"

The voice that had spoken sounded like it was from a 1930s program, playing off of some radio. The two recruits turned their heads and what they saw made them both drop into dead silence. The talons of a former Decepticon clapsed into the metal floor, keeping him standing straight as he faced the two newbies.

"I think you need a hug," another piece of dialogue played.

Blastwave and Flareup blinked, right before turning the guns upon Dreadbot.

Dreadbot didn't flinch, but instead kept speaking with the radio transmissions.

"I don’t recognize you. You are new."

"Who are you, Decepti-creep!?" Flareup shouted.

Dreadbot's jaw opened and closed as he stretched his mouth, yawning in between another response.

"Dread... bot."

"Why are you--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey!" Tracks shouted.

Tracks and Wheeljack jumped in between, pushing the two trainees away from Dreadbot, and pushing their guns down.

"Why are you pointing your guns at one of your teammates?"

"Because he's..." Flareup began. Her eyes widened when she heard the response. "Teammate? This Decepticon is our teammate!?"

"Former, Decepticon to be more accurate. I know the scary exterior is a bit frightening but I assure you, he is not one of them. He's on our side," Tracks explained, "Along with everyone else."

"Everyone else!?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, we've got quite a few subordinates on our side, some of which were former Decepticons. Don't let the grotesque appearance cloud your judgement, understood?" Tracks drilled.

Flareup and Blastwave groaned and nodded.

"Good. Now please, try to get along. Like it or not, there's a chance you two are trapped here, and if you're going to survive you must learn to properly communicate!" Tracks finished before leaving the two. Watching the two of them bicker at each other was starting to give him flashbacks when he and Strongarm first arrived on Earth.

And speak of the devil, Strongarm was there, surprisingly. She was leaning against the frame of a doorway, watching the ensuing fight.

"They don't get along, do they?"

Tracks shook his head as he leaned against the other doorway, next to the former police cadet. Watching the two of them made Strongarm giggle.

"I remember when we were like that," Strongarm commented.

"Ah, yes, indeed. I remember almost hating every tiny integrated circuit within you. But looking back... I'm not sure I even know why I did," Tracks replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah... almost makes--"

A small beeping noise was going off on the main computer, interrupting her sentence. She paced over to the computer and tapped the button, checking for the signal.

"Spitfire. It seems there's someone requesting a Groundbridge."

"Any idea who?" Spitfire asked, speaking from another part of the base.

"No ma'am. But it doesn't seem like there's any Cybertronian life signatures."

"Open up the bridge. I'll call over some bots to stand by, just in case it's a trap."

"Roger that, ma'am."

Spitfire walked towards the glowing Groundbridge, looking carefully. Who could be walking through to the other side? She expected a Transformer, as she looked above. Maybe they had some cloaking device or technology that masked their energy signature. But she was very surprised to see that it wasn’t who had walked on through. Coming through the bridge was a limping girl, covered in bruises and scratches. Her hair was disheveled and dusty, and one of her eyes was twitching.

“Ma’am, who are you, and what are you doing here?” Spitfire asked with a loud voice.

“Don’t mind me, just let me get my rolling chair and I’ll be fine,” Sour said, very cheerfully as she passed Spitfire. She was left dumbfounded as she just walked on past her.

“Ma’am, what are you doing here, how did you even—“

“Don’t bother me!”

Spitfire was dumbfounded. Who was this woman who just wandered into the base like it was her own home?

"Ma'am, get back here! Where are you going?"

"I just need a wheelchair, and I'll be good," Sour yelped, falling onto the floor and groaning.

The Groundbridge closed and Spitfire immediately rushed over to lift up the injured girl.

"Who are you?" Spitfire asked. "And for that matter, how did you get a Groundbridge signal?"

Sour just shook and jittered even more.

"Sour Sweet, that's who I was..." Sour muttered, audibly.

"Sour Sweet... wait a minute. I think I remember your name," Spitfire commented. "You served alongside Sunset Shimmer against the Decepticons several years ago, didn't you?"

"Yep. And I got laid several times!" Sour cackled.

Spitfire blanked. "Um... Let's just get you into a wheelchair."

Carefully, she helped pick up Sour and carried her over into a medical booth. The door automatically opened up, allowing her to walk inside. As soon as she did, she found an open wheelchair available for use, and then carefully set Sour down into the chair.

"Okay. So start at the beginning. Why are you here, and what happened to you?"

"What hasn't happened?" Sour said, with a straight face. "I've been married, got laid some more... tried to conceive but that wasn't working... adopted a child with my partner and... just lost them today..."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Spitfire asked.

Sour turned her head and looked the captain in the eyes.

"Half an hour ago, I was enjoying a cup of coffee with my wife. Then five minutes later... they're gone. Several years of dating, planning, chatting, happy talks and times... just all gone." Sour said. "Same goes for my child. Just adopted him a few years ago, and now he's gone too. Everyone's gone, I'm all alone, no family ties, that's all..."

Spitfire's face went from deranged to shocked in the seconds that Sour had spoken. Now she was starting to see a problem. Even worse, she was saying everything completely straight like it was an every day thing! No way she was in any way okay right now.

"Sour. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course I am! I've just lost my family and now I want to go plan some much needed revenge," Sour replied, moving her hand on the joystick of the automatic chair.

"Look, Sour, I understand you're not well, but I think you and I should talk." Spitfire said, reaching for some medical supplies. "People aren't well if they keep these things bottled up, we seriously need to... Sour? Sour?"

“Excuse me, I need to go do something,” Sour said, as she moved the joystick on the chair. And she drove herself away from Spitfire who slapped her hands by her sides.

“Wait, get back here!”

Sour ignored Spitfire's pleas and just kept driving the wheelchair forward.

“You all sure do have a lot of empty orange halls. Especially all of the orange, can’t you afford any other color than this? Why not spruce it up with some dark grays and stuff? Make it a real edgelord home!”

Sour kept moving the chair away from Spitfire who tried to catch up with her. And Sour didn’t even pay attention to her following her. She bumped it right past Soarin who fell to the ground and shattered his lunch tray into pieces.

“That tray was already damaged after they fell there!”

“Sour!”

“Just tell me where Sunset is, Maverick! What else can I even do here, just sit here in this spiny chair and cry and whine about how those I loved are completely gone!?”

“Sour!” Spitfire shouted, trying to get her to stop.

“And even if I was going to, how could I do that because... where the hell is everyone?” Sour ranted. At this point she was now spinning the mobile chair around in circles, not even caring. “Literally all I see are you, the expendable Guardians, and the Suicide Squad wannabes! Can’t hire the real Suicide Squad, so now you have to settle for a poor attempt to be them!?”

Spitfire shook her head, watching Sour continue to spin around in her chair.

"Sour, we need to talk, you're not well."

"I'm perfectly fine, Spitfire. Now give me a mech, I've got some explosions to create!"

Spitfire moved just in time and clutched her shoulders, making her stop moving around.

"Oh so you're moving onto me now?"

"Sour, listen to me!" Spitfire shouted. "You are not well, and this is not how you should be reacting right now. I know what its like Sour, I know how it feels to lose the people you feel close to you! I've lost friends, people I've called family out in the field of battle, people I've loved, people I grew to love have by my side! But holding all of this in, trying to push it back is not healthy! You can't just keep it away!"

Sour's hands gripped Spitfire's hands and her teeth were slowly beginning to snarl.

"Don't you dare touch me... I'm perfectly fine, I'm well enough to take down a frickin' robot!"

"Are you? Punch my face. If you can throw a perfect punch against my face, then we will see!"

"Oh I will!"

Sour's fist raised up, clenched as tight as it could. She raised it back, about to swing. She was gonna do it, this was gonna be the knock out! But as she was about to do it... she stopped. Why did she stop, she wanted to prove herself strong enough, she was going to! She had all the strength, she had it all! But yet, there was a part of her inside that just stopped. A single memory went into her head, remembering the explosion and the impact.

Smallfoot. Betamax. They were just... gone. They weren't there any more. Gone. Off the earth. They were no more. They had gone to meet their makers. Smallfoot, lord knows would probably be off and joining the rest of her departed friends and family. And Betamax? Oh, sweet Betamax... no, that little boy...

Her fist and entire arm began to shake and tremble. Sour's face slowly began to fade from her seething face. What started as an angry war face, began to turn more into the face of a sad little girl. Her eyes slowly began to water, making her immediatley clench her eyes shut. Her head slowly went down, and Spitfire's stern expression dwindled.

"Sour?"

Sour didn't speak. But she could hear a soft whimper emitted from her lips.

"Oh, Sour..."

Spitfire moved closer and pulled her into a hug. Sour's arms wrapped around Spitfire's back, and Spitfire could hear her sobbing her eyes out. Sour held her tight as she could, not wanting to let go.

"They're dead.. they're dead and I couldn't protect them!" Sour balled out.

"Its not your fault," Spitfire rubbed her back.

"I should have called sooner... I thought we could have moved in time, but we didn't! They're gone, and I need them back!" Sour cried. "Oh Smallfoot... she was the only girl who ever loved me. She was the only one who understood me, and now she's just gone..."

Spitfire frowned, hearing her cries. But she did not dare speak, only when Sour had let it all out would she talk.

"Oh and Betamax!" Sour wailed. "I wanted to teach him so much! There was so much I hadn't taught him! I wanted to show him how to get a girl, how to ride a bike! But I can't now..."

"Shhh..." Spitfire stroked her hair as she held her.

Sour cried for a solid few minutes before her sounds turned from crying to whimpering and heavy sighs, trying to breathe. Spitfire pulled out of the hug and helped her back into the wheelchair, looking her dead in the eye.

"You let it out as much as you need to. I'll listen. And as for who attacked you and your home, we're going to help. Whoever those Decepticons were, we're going to find them and bring them down."

Sour sniffled and wiped her eyes. "T-T-Thank you..."

Spitfire gave her a warm smile and patted her shoulder. "Now how about we patch you up? Clean your wounds?"

"O-Okay..." Sour moaned, feeling the pain in her leg.

As she sat back down, Spitfire moved behind and pushed on the wheelchair, pushing her to the medical bay. And as she pushed the poor woman into the bay, only one thought was emitted into her head.

Sunset, I hope you're having a better day than we are...

Next Chapter: Chapter 10: Betamax Track Estimated time remaining: 4 Hours, 5 Minutes