When the Decepticons evacuated Cybertron, they left one of their own behind. Now the Autobots have a problem lurking beneath Iacon as Ravage tries to find a way back to his faction.

It's the Ravage vs Wheelie fic that the fanbase has been clamouring for! With support from Arcee, Rewind and Steeljaw.

As it's close to an hour's reading time, you may wish to consider the nicely formatted version available here: https://velvetfanfic.wordpress.com/2024/03/17/set-a-thief/

Or just read on. Entire fic is pasted below for your commenting convenience.

Set a Thief

“What’s the procedure for Decepticon seizure?” Wheelie asked as casually as he could.

After another shift of mapping Iacon’s conduits and tunnels, he had come to the command centre to log his safe return—he didn’t know if this requirement was because the Autobots were worried something would befall him or because they were worried he would run away. Regardless, after millennia of isolation, Wheelie was determined to keep his newfound position in society and scrupulously followed the rules he had been given.

Only Perceptor was in the command centre, and by now, he had grown accustomed to Wheelie’s non-sequiturs. “The protocol for Decepticons is greatly dependent on the situation, Wheelie. Did you have a specific location in mind?”

“Iacon, Cybertron.”

Perceptor looked up from his comparison of their daily energy consumption records. “Wheelie, would this be a theoretical question, or have you *seen* a Decepticon?”

Wheelie had realised something else was in the tunnels two days ago, although he had not bothered to inform the other Autobots at the time—he might be *following* rules, but he was not going to ask for more.

They were only a skeleton crew anyway: the Dinobots, Springer, Arcee and Blurr, all left in Perceptor’s charge to hold Cybertron while Rodimus Prime was dealing with affairs on Earth. One week earlier, Wheelie hadn’t known any of them, and it might have been a million years since he had needed to get to know anybody. He wasn’t certain of his own timeframe; by habit, he avoided memories from a time before Quintessa.

Perceptor was useful in that regard as the peaceful and disciplined scientist couldn’t remind Wheelie of anybody from his past. The others sometimes did—Springer and Arcee’s ready banter or Blurr’s nervous energy would have fit right in with a past life if Wheelie had cared to make the comparison. He didn’t, but fortunately long solitude had left him with several eccentricities. Once he discovered that his rhyming speech disrupted conversation attempts, he decided he wasn’t going to break that habit.

However, he did like the novelty of being around people who didn’t want to kill him, of shutting down with the confidence of coming online again and of having a right to his own supply of energy. Wheelie understood that all these things were privileges, and so he noticed something was living beneath Iacon who had none of them.

Accustomed to a lifestyle of stalking and hiding, Wheelie was confident in his own abilities to figure out what sort of creature was there without putting it on alert. It had been stealthy, so until today he had never seen more than flickers of movement, tracing it mostly by scratches on surfaces that he pretended not to notice. There had been even fewer sounds, but for most of Wheelie’s life, survival had depended on sketching an intuitive picture of activity from minor changes in air pressure, in echoes, in electrical fields.

His first suspicion that it might be a Decepticon had come when he had realised *it* was tracking *him*—and that had been the advantage he needed today. Unfortunately, he couldn’t risk going further without checking in with the authorities.

“Hunter found, lurk around, underground.” Exposition was not in Wheelie’s skillset; talking to himself had never required context. “Wheelie trap sneaky cat!”

Perceptor looked back at his records, at the mysterious spikes in energy consumption coming from different devices on different days, and with great composure, he brought up a reference image of a feline Decepticon. “Do you mean to say that you have apprehended Ravage?”

Wheelie brightened in recognition. “Yes!”

“While I recognise that this is quite an achievement, Wheelie, I must insist that in future you alert a senior officer prior to attempting capture.”

Perceptor was more flustered than appreciative, but Wheelie merely nodded, offering neither repentance nor explanation. Back on Quintessa, he had frequently trapped Sharkticons and Allicons for spare parts or simply mental stimulation; like much of his past life, he was not sure how ethical the Autobots would consider such behaviour.

He maintained silence until Perceptor broke it with a sigh. “If you can give me the coordinates for Ravage’s present location, we can arrange for retrieval and… proceed from there.”

In Rodimus Prime’s absence, Springer was currently responsible for Cybertron’s defence and the Dinobots represented their army, but that had been on the assumption that any hostile activity would be coming from above; neither Springer nor the Dinobots were small enough to reach Ravage’s location. Perceptor had Arcee accompany them instead, and both the veteran Autobots came armed.

“Ceasefire expire?” Wheelie asked, curiously. He had thought they were avoiding combat.

“Technically speaking, we haven’t had any Decepticons agree to the ceasefire yet,” Arcee told him. She was more serious than usual, either due to the mission or because she wasn’t around Springer and Blurr.

“In absence of current data, we should infer from previous interactions with Soundwave and his cassettes that it is advisable to proceed with the utmost caution,” Perceptor explained. “However, our objective is indeed to execute our mission without ballistic discharge.”

For his trap, Wheelie had chosen a long duct that had been showing some wear, pretending to reinforce the stressed sections so that his observer would assume this was a simple repair job. It was a squeeze for Perceptor and Arcee to get there, but Wheelie had had the foresight to position the trap at the point where the duct ran through a wider space—whatever machinery had once been housed there had long since been recycled—so the other two Autobots could comfortably stand and assist him in cutting out the relevant section.

“The mass is surely insufficient…” Perceptor muttered as he lifted it down.

Wheelie had already realised it felt wrong. Instinctively, he scanned the area, fearing an ambush, detecting nothing. Arcee had drawn her gun at Perceptor’s words, so he left her on alert while he checked the trap. As suspected, it was empty, the front barrier collapsed without any sign of being forced.

“Pressure plate, hmm?” Perceptor was distracted by his handiwork. “Spring-loaded barriers… triggered by Ravage’s weight—an ingenious use of resources, Wheelie. Let’s see, the ceiling is too low for him to feasibly escape by jumping… ah, he must have braced himself against the walls to push the barrier back to its horizontal position.”

Wheelie had already seen the scuffs Ravage had left on the sides of his prison, and he was furious with himself. It was such an obvious vulnerability, but Sharkticons and Allicons had never been that smart. He found he did not like being outwitted.

“Do not be discouraged, Wheelie,” Perceptor told him with absent kindness. “Ravage is no fool, and you did well to detain him in the first instance—”

Wheelie wished he would be quiet. Ravage had watched him the past two days; he was certain he was watching them now. He took a step away from Perceptor, trying to sense anything from the shadows.

Arcee laid a hand on his shoulder. “Wheelie, don’t try this again on your own. He’s going to be on his guard now, and he’s more dangerous than he looks.”

“Absolutely, you must refrain from any further attempt!” Perceptor agreed fervently. “We shall alert Rodimus Prime to the situation and await his orders.”

Saving Perceptor the bother of worrying about it, Wheelie thought, angry with everybody now.

Arcee looked keenly at him and then back at Perceptor. “I’ve seen that expression before… on Hot Rod.”

Wheelie might not understand her meaning, but Perceptor plainly did. “Ah. Well, while I cannot sanction further attempts to engage with Ravage, Wheelie, you may assist in researching a solution by installing a surveillance system down here. With Arcee’s assistance.”

Wheelie looked dubiously up at Arcee. She was slim in build but nearly twice his height and would have to crawl through most of the ducts and conduits. “Must be covert so as not to alert,” he pointed out.

“Stealth operations are part of standard training for all Autobots,” Perceptor assured him.

Arcee was less confident. “We might have covered stealth in training, but I can’t say I’ve had a lot of practice.” She gave Wheelie an apologetic grimace. “I’ll try.”

‘Try’ rhymed with ‘die’. Grimly, Wheelie reminded himself that cooperation was the price of society, and he left the couplet unsaid.

Wheelie was not the only one angry with himself. It took every bit of willpower Ravage possessed to keep his optics dimmed as he glared down at the Autobots from his hiding place in a broken pipe. The unfamiliar one was plainly a new recruit which made falling into his trap all the more humiliating.

For now, he had no choice but to stay where he was and wait for them to leave. It had been four days since he had lost his connection to Soundwave; never in his life had he been so alone.

Both Soundwave and Ravage had known danger was coming from the moment of Galvatron’s arrival. Megatron’s spirit could still be sensed within Galvatron, but Unicron’s interference ran through him like static, and on some level, they had known then that the Decepticon cause was lost.

At the time of Unicron’s attack, Ravage had been in the lowest level of Shockwave’s towers, covertly browsing through four million years of database backups for information that might help Soundwave and his fellow cassettes survive the collapse of Megatron’s empire. When Shockwave had called the Decepticons to defend the planet, Soundwave had transmitted a private order for Ravage to shelter in place. The planet’s radio frequencies had fallen silent shortly afterwards, but the groans and shudders of the assault on Cybertron had continued for hours.

When the final stillness came, the Decepticon city of Polyhex lay in ruins. Every Decepticon who had tried to defend from the ground was dead. Ravage came to the surface only to try and re-establish his connection to Soundwave. He failed, but he saw a couple of Autobots picking through the ruined city. Unseen, he retreated, slipping through the crevices of the destruction to the lower levels.

He found a monitor station still operating on its emergency power cell and transformed to slot inside and recharge. He had faith that as long as Soundwave was alive, he would try to come back for him, but he could not know whether Soundwave was alive or dead, let alone when he might have the ability to return.

It was the maddening blindness of ignorance that drove Ravage to Iacon a day later. He guessed correctly that the Autobots would be operating out of their historic capital; they had power running to the old system, and finding underground ports to recharge from was not difficult.

Information was harder. The Autobots were concentrated in Iacon’s Dome on the surface, and the risk of discovery was too great for Ravage to venture there. Instead, he tracked the unknown minibot roaming the lower levels, hoping he would repair, install or leave something useful—all that had netted him was a lesson in humility.

He eavesdropped intently on Perceptor and Arcee until they left, but their conversation yielded little. The name Rodimus Prime told him nothing about their new leader, and he had already gleaned that they were working with minimal resources… which made him more concerned about what had happened to the Decepticons. Surely now was the time to contest the occupation of Cybertron?

The only useful information was that Arcee would be back with their presumptuous little scout, Wheelie. He intended to be ready for them.

When the Autobots returned to the tunnels, they maintained silence—at least conversationally. It was largely pointless: they had given their mission away when they discussed it out loud the previous day, and Arcee’s doubts about her stealth capabilities proved well-founded, though Ravage noted that Wheelie moved with a soundlessness that spoke of long practice. Keeping pace with the Autobots, Ravage speculated that the only reason Wheelie insisted on silence was so that he could listen for *him*.

So much the better. He tracked them for a good hour, noting the locations of the cameras and microphones they installed, before he picked his spot: a small vent, missing the screen that would once have covered it. He settled in the shadows just beyond the opening, and when Wheelie glanced automatically down it in passing, Ravage let his optics gleam.

Immediately, the minibot plunged into the duct, Ravage already turning and running. Arcee’s shouts to stop went unheeded, and she could not get through a passage this tight. Wheelie himself only went a few steps before transforming, making better pace in his streamlined vehicle mode.

Ravage didn’t want that, but they were not going far. Ahead, the duct ended in another chamber, housing the broken remnants of an air filtration system. Ravage leapt the last stretch, spinning in mid-air to face Wheelie as he landed, prompting the Autobot to transform. To Ravage’s amusement, he pulled out a slingshot, but importantly, he kept running forward, to the mouth of the duct, to the electrified plate Ravage had hooked up.

Wheelie screamed as the shock ran through him; then he collapsed.

The duct echoed with Arcee’s frustrated cries, but she sounded no closer than before. Satisfied, Ravage used his teeth to pull a cable from the wall, cutting the power to his trap, before he sauntered around Wheelie, examining him. There was an unsteady flicker of blue in the fallen Autobot’s optics, suggesting he was semi-conscious. Ravage gave them an exploratory swipe with one paw and was rewarded with another shriek of pain.

Wheelie flailed now, instinctively trying to return to full awareness, but Ravage hooked his front paws over the Autobot’s shoulders and rolled them both onto their sides. In this position, his hind legs were free to kick; their claws raked the length of Wheelie’s torso, and the Autobot started screaming again.

There was a distant explosion within the duct. Its force did little more than rattle the walls, but the accompanying photon flash was reflected from every angle, searing Ravage’s sensitive optics. Shrieking himself, he released Wheelie, rolling away, instinctively seeking the shadows as they fell again.

He was coiled with eyes shielded when the second explosion hit; this one was close enough he could feel the shockwave, heard the duct tearing apart, the thudding as Wheelie was rolled across the floor.

“Wheelie!” Arcee hissed, and Ravage heard her finally entering the chamber. “Wheelie… are you OK?”

His vision was still sparking, but Ravage forced himself to look up, squinting at the blast hole where the duct used to be. Wheelie remained down, and Arcee was crouched next to him, one hand on his shoulder while the other held her gun ready. She was scanning the chamber, and although Ravage was fully exposed, it took her several seconds to discern him from the shadows. When her gaze finally settled on him, he pulled himself into a crouch and snarled at her.

Arcee narrowed her optics, levelling her gun at him before flicking a glance to Wheelie, alternating between checking his injuries and keeping an eye on Ravage. Eventually, she decided the scout’s wounds weren’t critical, and she focused on the Decepticon, lowering her gun. “Ravage, we don’t want to fight. As far as the Autobots are concerned, the War is over.”

It took two sides to end a war. Would she tell him what the Decepticon view on this was? Ravage stayed where he was, but he tilted his head enough to indicate he was listening.

“If you come with us quietly, we’ll help you contact Soundwave. Or any other Decepticon out there. We know some survived.”

How very like the Autobots: they would benevolently grant him asylum in the hopes he would lure other Decepticons to the humility of their peace talks. Ravage smothered the snarl that rose in reply, and he edged closer.

Her face softened in response. “You have our word, Ravage, we’ll let you leave Cybertron unharmed.”

He believed she was sincere when he saw her shoulders relax. However, he had no desire to be a pawn in Autobot political games. He pounced.

Caught off guard, she was knocked down by his impact, her gun clattering to the floor. His front claws slashed at her face—if she raised her arms to shield it, his hindlegs could lacerate her torso.

She was not falling for it. Ignoring the claws, she gripped his forelegs just below the shoulders and hurled him across the room. He twisted into the spin, landing on his feet before she got to hers, but she had snatched up her gun first.

“I might not have had much practice with stealth and diplomacy, but I’m *really* well drilled in combat!” she snapped. Nothing soft about her now; she was aiming directly at his optics. “Don’t try me again!”

Ravage was sorely tempted, but he was unlikely to get away without serious injury if he tackled her while her guard was up. He regarded Arcee with deliberate coolness before he turned and leaped into the ruined machinery behind him.

He spied on her for all the good it did him. She managed to rouse Wheelie, and to his disappointment the smaller Autobot was able to stagger out by himself. Ravage stretched out his forelegs, remembering Wheelie’s cries. He felt confident he would get another chance at him.

Springer looked Arcee and Wheelie up and down. “So… you found Ravage.”

Wheelie bore deep gashes from head to toe, and Arcee supposed her head and right shoulder did not look much better. “While we’re stating the obvious, he’s not accepting our truce,” she replied in a tone flat enough to indicate further sarcasm would not be appreciated.

Despite being half-blind and too woozy to transform, Wheelie had insisted on getting back to Iacon headquarters on his own feet. He was fuming as much at himself as at the escaped Decepticon, and in Arcee’s experience, the worse an Autobot’s temper was, the less dangerous their injuries. After today, she suspected that their odd little refugee had more traits in common with the average Autobot soldier than they had first thought.

Arcee herself was newly graduated from the training barracks and used to being the smallest party member on a field mission. She could have ferried the injured minibot in her vehicle mode, but her sympathy allowed Wheelie his pride, and she had patiently supported him on their long walk back to Iacon’s Great Dome. The ancient shuttle launch was still functioning as an open-plan centre for Autobot operations until decisions for the city’s future could be finalised.

When Springer made as if to scoop Wheelie up, Arcee waved him away, shepherding the minibot the last few steps into the area designated as a makeshift repair lab. She had radioed ahead to warn Perceptor that Wheelie would need repairs, but the scientist was still shocked by their condition.

“While I anticipated the lacerations, may I request a more detailed damage report?”

“Zap trap,” Wheelie muttered, glaring into the middle distance.

“Ravage had an electric shock set up—enough to stun Wheelie so he could work him over,” Arcee explained. “The photon bombs worked to drive Ravage off… may have put a few extra dings in Wheelie as well. I wasn’t in the best position to aim.”

“Lost my cool; played for fool.”

Always fussy about electrical damage, Perceptor hustled Wheelie onto a workbench. “You require a complete reset to ensure your systems are properly calibrated and synchronised,” he told him, ignoring the minibot’s vague protests as he manually sent him offline. “Did you run a diagnostic on yourself, Arcee?”

“All my wounds are superficial. Focus on Wheelie.”

He looked her over briskly, before transforming to microscope mode to examine Wheelie. “It is fortuitous that he missed your optics, Arcee, but wait here for a full examination. Ravage’s claws are long and frequently penetrate further than the victim realises.”

This less than reassuring remark left Arcee freshly aware of how painful each and every one of her scratches was. Unconsciously, she started picking at her torn shoulder, and Springer nudged her hand away.

“In my unprofessional opinion, you’ve survived worse,” he told her cheerfully. “All you need to worry about is whether you want Perceptor to fix those scars or leave them so people ask you for the story.”

She side-eyed him, resisting the urge to find a reflective surface. “Shouldn’t you be worrying about how we’re going to handle our Decepticon invader?”

Springer sighed, leaning back against a counter. “Would it be the craziest idea to leave him for now? It’s not like he’s got opposable thumbs… What do we expect him to do?”

“He poses a security hazard,” Perceptor murmured vaguely as he changed back to robot mode and started working on Wheelie’s optic.

Watching him was making Arcee’s face hurt more, and she sought a distraction. “We did get most of the cameras set up… Want me to switch them on?”

“Please. I will incorporate all the available data in my next report to Rodimus, and we can await his instruction.”

Arcee set her face as she ran up the steps of the raised platform that held the control centre and Teletraan Two. Obviously, their commanding officer needed to know the details of any Decepticon presence; another, equally valid perspective was that a full account of her mixed performance against a Decepticon less than half her size would be sent for review to the guy she had been flirting with for the past three years. Dissociation was a work in progress.

Springer, who had fewer complications in his relationship with the new Prime, persisted with the discussion. “Y’know, we can interpret that available data for ourselves, come up with some recommendations for our esteemed leader…”

Images suddenly started popping up on Teletraan’s monitors, and Arcee grimaced. “Speaking of available data, here’s what we got shredded for: Video feeds of empty tunnels.”

Springer joined her in the control centre, only slightly less dubious as he studied the feeds over her shoulder. “If nothing else, at least we can monitor for any changes.” He turned and leaned over the rail, trying to get Perceptor’s attention again now that the scientist had moved on to less delicate repairs. “Ravage has been here three days, by Wheelie’s estimate, and he only attacked when we provoked him. Rodimus is planning to get back here in another couple of days—”

Wheelie had barely finished rebooting, but he tried to push Perceptor’s hands aside to get back into the conversation. “Why wait ’til then? I’ll try again!”

“You wanna put that sense of righteous vengeance on ice, kid?” Springer casually hurdled the rail and dropped to the floor. “Let’s figure out a plan first, get our latest Prime to sign off on it, then go Ravage-hunting.”

Arcee took the more conventional route down the stairs. “Don’t worry, Wheelie, we’ll get—”

She broke off when Perceptor held up his hand. The scientist was frowning up at Teletraan Two which was emitting a mild pinging notification and scrolling a wall of text. Then a look of horror crossed his face, and he dove for the failsafe switch on the wall.

The next instant, they were plunged into darkness. Perceptor had severed all power to the Dome.

“I have been inexcusably obtuse,” he told them, audibly upset. “Those surveillance systems you installed in Ravage’s domain have a direct connection to Teletraan Two.”

Realising what he meant, Arcee groaned. “And Ravage plugged into the surveillance system. Great Matrix, we all should have caught that… but there’s nothing too sensitive on Teletraan anyway, is there?”

“Serendipitously not at this preliminary stage of our re-establishment. We will have to change the security codes, but that is a relatively simple procedure.” The scientist flicked on some emergency lights and bustled off.

“Once everything’s back up and running, remind me to tell Rod he’s gonna need someone with a much broader skillset to handle Cybertron’s defence,” Springer muttered.

“Best defence is offence!” Wheelie’s optics gleamed as he sat up on the bench. Arcee supposed she should be more worried by his newly-revealed penchant for violence, but right now, she was scarred, stinging and firmly in sympathy with Wheelie’s sentiments.

“While you’re at it, Springer, tell Rodimus to bring Steeljaw and one or two of the other cassettes back with him.” She gave the minibot a conspiratorial grin. “If you can let your revenge go cold, Wheelie, we know a few guys who can help you serve it up. Stealth-experts and everything!”

“Because nothing says ‘ceasefire’ like making things personal.” Springer folded his arms and gave them his best sardonic glare.

Wheelie paid him no heed, sincere enough to forego a rhyme as he nodded to Arcee: “Thanks.”

Even though he was in cassette mode, Ravage growled into the dataport when the connection to Teletraan Two disappeared. He should be grateful for such an easy ticket into the Autobots’ database—even getting those seconds of access had been a phenomenal stroke of luck—but with no time to look through it properly, he had been downloading blind. Now he could only hope that the files he’d taken were enough.

They weren’t.

He had searched by date, ripping the files that had been uploaded to the system in the first days after Unicron’s fall. These held a wealth of information on how the Autobots had defeated Unicron and retaken Cybertron, who had survived and the status of their military power. They would make for a highly useful report to Soundwave. What they did not have was information on any Decepticon’s whereabouts. Save for a confirmed sighting of Blitzwing the day after Polyhex’ abandonment, the Autobots appeared to have no knowledge of any Decepticon activity since Ravage had lost contact with them.

He should have searched by the file’s origin, Ravage realised, snarling again. He now knew that the Autobot leaders had gone back to Earth with the intention of maintaining the Autobot headquarters there. Where Iacon fit into their new regime, he couldn’t be sure, but it was clear that the Autobots here were only rebuilding. If any Autobots were tracking Decepticon activity, it would be the ones on Earth. If he had thought to take the most recent report from Earth…

Or perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. He reviewed his recording of Arcee’s words again: ::We’ll help you contact Soundwave. Or any other Decepticon out there.::

Did the Autobots know as little as he did? Did they hope to use him to gain information on his faction?

He was reading the same files over and over again, he realised, staying in cassette mode long past the point of recharge. It was all too easy for a transformer to lose themselves to that form of catatonia, stuck in a loop of familiar datatracks, especially in a mode with no movement and few sensors. Still, what purpose was there in action? He was a soldier with no command, a spy with no information.

The confrontation with Arcee and Wheelie had brought up a more serious lack: he had no recourse to medical aid. He had sustained very minor damage, but even so there were dents and stresses to his exo-structure that his self-repair systems could not remedy. Ravage was no coward, but he knew that had it been a Dinobot flinging him across the room instead of Arcee, the resultant impact could have crippled him. If he were too damaged to complete his transformation sequence, his options for recharging would be virtually eliminated.

It would be far safer to stay in cassette mode in this powered dataport and await a change in circumstances.

With a mental wrench, Ravage ejected and transformed. Soundwave would expect him to survive; survival meant existing, however inconsequentially. He slunk into his well-worn shadows, avoiding the camera’s lens.

While Arcee was fully on board with getting revenge on Ravage, she did not have Wheelie’s back when it came to returning to the tunnels. To Wheelie’s dismay, all the ranking Autobots were in agreement that he should stay on the surface until the shuttle returned with reinforcements from Earth. That meant working alongside the others for the next forty-one hours.

He’d rather take his chances with Ravage.

To be fair to the Autobots, they made the effort to include him. Arcee and Blurr gave him basic firearms training, while Springer offered to take him into orbit on a satellite maintenance run.

When Wheelie refused the trip, Springer assumed that the shuttle triggered memories of his crash on Quintessa; Wheelie was more concerned it would trigger memories from *before* the crash.

Instead, Wheelie worked as much as possible on salvage detail alongside the Dinobots who were clearing debris; the Dinobots appreciated anti-social behaviour and disliked complex conversations.

Yet he left his com-link on the Iacon band for a change, listened to the back and forth and even joined in, if only to clarify Grimlock’s updates on what their team were doing—though he wasn’t sure how useful his additional couplets were. At least, Perceptor and Arcee were used to his rhyming by now, and although Wheelie suspected his mode of speech annoyed Springer, the big triple-changer made no comment. Blurr complained each and every time Wheelie spoke, but Blurr complained about everything, and baiting the hyperactive Autobot seemed to be the leading form of recreation on this largely empty planet.

Wheelie noticed that Blurr craved attention too much to care.

That Arcee became wittier in conversation with Springer.

That Springer effortlessly understood all Perceptor’s fancy words.

That social interaction relaxed Perceptor more than anything else.

That by getting to know these Autobots properly, he was no longer reminded of transformers long dead.

What really surprised Wheelie was that he wasn’t the only one who was reluctant for the arrival of more Autobots and supplies from Earth. As unaccustomed as the others might be to scavenging for their existence, they were enjoying the relative lack of discipline and had mixed feelings about (as Springer put it) “when Roddy comes back with the grown-ups.”

Nevertheless, almost everybody was there to greet the shuttle when it landed—aside from Arcee whose idea of keeping a low profile around Rodimus Prime was to be conspicuously absent. Wheelie chose to blend in with the crowd instead. He wasn’t afraid of the leadership group since he had helped to save Rodimus’ life less than twenty-four hours before he became Prime—by any social convention, that was a good start for his clean slate.

But it was curiosity that really drove him today: Wheelie had never met a transformer smaller than himself, so he was eager for his first glimpse of the two cassettes who had made the trip to Cybertron. As Perceptor greeted the new arrivals, the group fanned out gradually, and the smallest figures moved to its edge, looking around with interest.

Steeljaw was similar in configuration to Ravage, but despite the clearly displayed weapons on either flank, there was no hint of aggression in him as he casually sniffed the air. Beside him, Rewind looked more excited, his mouth plate moving rapidly, though whatever he was saying was too hushed for Wheelie to hear. He had been told Rewind’s secondary field of expertise was historical research, which was why he had come to Cybertron with Steeljaw. Steeljaw, of course, was the Autobot best suited to hunt down Ravage in his own territory, and solving the Ravage problem was their immediate priority.

When Rewind’s roving optics found Wheelie in his spot amidst the Dinobots’ legs, he nudged Steeljaw and both cassettes studied the minibot. They had been briefed on him, then. Wheelie calmly met their gaze, nodding a tacit greeting.

As soon as they looked back to Perceptor, he stepped away from his original position, letting himself be obscured by Swoop’s wing and Sludge’s tail. Rodimus and Ultra Magnus were beginning to assign jobs, and Wheelie slipped away before he could be tasked with taking the cassettes to munitions. It was a petty rebellion, but he wasn’t feeling up to fielding their questions on his own.

Instead, he got there ahead of them, meeting Arcee where she was logging the weapons for their mission—her excuse for not being at the landing.

“You can take this blaster, if you want,” she offered. “Basic firearms training covers you for that as a defence weapon.”

Wheelie didn’t feel he was any better trained in firearms than Arcee was in stealth. “Hit or miss,” he remarked, before pulling out one of his self-made slingshots from Quintessa. “Won’t miss with this.”

Arcee laughed and returned the blaster to their stores. “Carry what you feel comfortable with, then. Rewind’s a crack shot anyway, so this is just a precaution.”

Wheelie nodded without sincerity. He was playing at collaboration today, but he would rather rely on his own protection. Even if he had never had the chance to use his slingshot in his last encounter with Ravage… Being rescued still felt more like a fluke than something to take for granted.

Rewind and Steeljaw arrived then, escorted by Blurr who gave Wheelie a thorough dressing down in four seconds for shirking his responsibilities with the cassettes before making it very clear that he had better things to do than play guide and flouncing off. Wheelie made a mental note that Blurr might lack self-awareness, but he *was* perceptive about others.

The others were delighted to reunite after a violent parting, and Arcee dropped down to one knee to greet the cassettes. “It’s so good to see you both in one piece again!”

“Glad to confirm that *he* can see *you*,” Rewind told her, nudging Steeljaw who rumbled amiably. Rewind waggled his fingers at Arcee. “And look, two working hands at your disposal!”

“Good, because downtime is in short supply on the rosters for the next few days.” She glanced round to where Wheelie was watching. He was perfectly happy staying out of the social interaction, but she included him anyway. “Here’s Wheelie. You guys have all been briefed on each other, but have you been properly introduced yet?”

“No, not yet.” Rewind was every bit as eager for redundant niceties as Arcee. “I’m Rewind, and this is Steeljaw.” He left a pause for Steeljaw to add his own greeting, but the lion simply nodded. “Ah, yeah… he can talk for the record, he just doesn’t do it much.”

Wheelie was relieved only one of them would require effort, as he experienced the unfamiliar sensation of looking down at another robot. Rewind was a head shorter than him, and Steeljaw barely reached his chest. He had been told that their transformations made use of mass-shifting technology—their alternate modes would fit in his hand. Now, however, Rewind was extending his own hand in greeting, and Wheelie cautiously shook it, murmuring, “Meet and greet.”

Rewind was not put off by his reticence. “So, I heard you were stranded—”

“No inquisitions, Rewind,” Arcee interrupted firmly. “Wheelie doesn’t like talking about his past, so don’t make him duck your questions. We’ve got a Decepticon to catch.”

That surprised Wheelie as much as it did Rewind. He had known on one level that the Autobots were allowing him to keep his secrets, at least for the time being, but it had never been explicitly stated, let alone defended.

“Right, Cassettes,” Arcee bustled on. “Remember Wheelie has combat experience but not military experience. He mapped out the levels below Iacon so he’s more familiar with the terrain than anyone—listen to what he says. Wheelie, these guys have the field experience, so *follow their lead at all times*.” Her optics locked sternly on his as he nodded again. He would play by their rules today. “I’m coming with you. I probably won’t be able to help actually *catch* Ravage, but I’ve never been the muscle of the team before, so I may as well enjoy it while it lasts!”

Rewind grinned up at her, hefting a scaled down rifle. “Sounds good to me. Shall we roll out?”

Arcee slung a pack of ammunition over her shoulder and nodded to a stairwell. “No rides, Rewind. This hunt’s on foot.”

It had been two days since Ravage had seen the Autobots. Two days of thinking over the information he had learned from Teletraan and pondering his options. Two days of a growing temptation to risk a visit to the surface in hopes of more information.

So, he was initially relieved that the Autobots were coming into *his* territory, but that relief vanished at the first glimpse of Steeljaw. The leonine Autobot would be able to pursue him into any hiding place, and with his keen scent detection, it was unlikely that Ravage could eavesdrop without being noticed.

Nevertheless, Ravage continued tracking the small party, bitterly noting that all four of them had been freshly repaired since he had last seen them. He remembered taking out Steeljaw’s optics in Autobot City; he remembered being shot by Rewind and Frenzy crushing the Autobot’s hand in retaliation. Now they were back at full strength—any Autobot who escaped today would come again, fresh and whole.

He filed that at the back of his mind and focused on Steeljaw. The lion-cassette had not been on Cybertron two days ago; he had surely come to hunt Ravage. As Ravage had nowhere else to flee to, he needed to deal with his Autobot counterpart sooner rather than later.

“According to the accounts I’ve received from Ultra Magnus, this particular sector hasn’t been used since the Ark left for Earth!” In his heritage-fueled euphoria, Rewind appeared to have forgotten he was here for his espionage skills. “We’re walking through an area of Iacon that is essentially unchanged from the time Optimus Prime governed it.”

“Not sure ‘unchanged’ is accurate, Rewind. Everything that could be removed has been,” Arcee pointed out.

“But the layout alone is so fascinating… especially since Cybertron’s urban structure appears to be unique in the galaxy—at least, from our modern perspective. Perhaps Wheelie finds this all perfectly normal.” Despite the warnings, Rewind kept circling back to the topic of Wheelie’s past.

Wheelie gave Rewind a direct look, struck again that he had to lower his optics to do so. “That other time, I’ll lose in rhyme,” he told him. It was the most explicit that he had been so far on the subject, and he was aware that Arcee was watching him though she kept quiet.

“Oh, I just meant…” Rewind made a brief attempt at demurral, but Steeljaw casually shouldered against him, causing his fellow cassette to stumble. The two exchanged a look, and Rewind’s face turned rueful. “Sorry, Wheelie… I have a habit of getting carried away by my own enthusiasm. I’ll try to be more sensitive.”

Steeljaw looked back at Wheelie, and although it was harder to read the lion’s expressions, he seemed… amused? Resigned? Wry? Wheelie suspected Steeljaw would not blame him if he refused to accept Rewind’s apology, despite the familial affection between the two cassettes.

He shrugged. “No harm, drop alarm.”

With the conflict defused, Arcee relaxed, and Rewind cheerfully started explaining how their fellow cassette, Ramhorn, was usually the one to shut him up and how he and Steeljaw would have to adapt to it being just the two of them while they were on Cybertron.

That was the difference between the cassettes and himself, Wheelie realised: there was nothing defensive about them. They did not need to prove themselves, nor did they feel any vulnerability over their size. They had total confidence in their place. It was the sort of complacence that would get you killed in the wilds of Quintessa, but it did make them more attractive as friends.

For all Rewind’s prattle, he stayed aware of their mission; the moment Steeljaw tensed, the historian fell silent.

“Ravage,” Steeljaw hissed. He was casting his head back and forth, trying to isolate the scent.

Silently, Wheelie ran forward to where a screen covered a vent. Ravage liked to lurk in air ducts. Pulling away the filter, he felt out the darkness: the faintest of whines came vibrating down the tunnel’s walls, a draft in the air; he envisioned Ravage turning and fleeing.

“Runaway, no delay!” he called. Steeljaw was already alongside him, and at his words, he bounded into the tunnel. Wheelie fought the impulse to plunge after him. He had agreed to work as a team.

He turned, and Arcee shoved a bundle of photon flares into his hands. “Take Rewind and go! I’ll track your position—if you need help, I’ll blast a way to you!”

Rewind let out a horrified gasp. “Arcee, these hallways have been standing for millions of years! You can’t blow them up on our account!”

While Rewind vacillated over which was the bigger threat, Wheelie climbed into the tunnel and transformed, retracting his windscreen. “Come on Rewind, or be left behind!”

With one last remonstrative look at Arcee, Rewind jumped towards the duct, transforming into his smaller cassette mode and landing in Wheelie’s interior.

Wheelie sped off, swiftly catching up with Steeljaw who barely checked their position behind him before joining Rewind. Now carrying both cassettes, Wheelie started chasing down Ravage.

Ravage could outpace Steeljaw if he had to, but he had no hope of beating Wheelie’s vehicle mode in a straight race. Fortunately, the course was his to set and he knew this particular labyrinth by heart.

He took a couple of random turns to buy some extra time then he plunged into a specific tunnel that had been buckled and twisted at some point in the past. Ravage leaped over the upheaval then wriggled through a crumpled section. It barely slowed him, and once he reached the other side, he raced on, knowing Wheelie would waste a few minutes in robot mode while getting through.

A clatter of feet sounded behind him, and fear drove his own faster. Steeljaw was chasing him again, closer than before.

Silently, Ravage cursed the Autobots’ strategy. Steeljaw would track him through all obstacles, while Wheelie would eat away at his lead whenever they were on level ground. He was not going to be able to get enough distance from his pursuers to lose them.

Well, he had known it would come to a fight today. Rapidly, he scanned his nav-banks, choosing a new route. He could not fight them all at once, and he must take out Steeljaw first—once the lion was gone, retreat would be an option again. It was a point in his favour that Steeljaw was the easiest of the group to isolate.

He heard Wheelie’s engines again, and his mouth formed a silent snarl. He could not afford to let the hunters get any closer.

There was a break in the wall, an ancient blast zone, and Ravage dove through it. He had explored this area yesterday: ruins of tortured metal but just about navigable for somebody his size. It was agonisingly slow going when he could hear Steeljaw so clearly—the lion must be only a few yards behind him—but he fought the instinct to find a faster route, reminding himself that the other two were being left behind.

Finally, he reached the fissure he had been looking for, and he bounded upwards. He found the girder that still spanned the breach, laid himself flat along it, watched for Steeljaw to emerge below… When the lion appeared, he had time to hesitate but not look up. Ravage fell on him.

Steeljaw roared, but the Decepticon had the advantage. With his front claws sunk deep into the Autobot’s shoulders to secure his grip, he lay between his side-mounted weapons and well out of reach of claws and teeth. Finally, Ravage could give voice to his snarls, letting the full power of his hind legs slash at Steeljaw’s torso, while he bit hard into his neck, seeking to sever cables and fuel lines.

The lion tried to rear, then rolled over backwards, struggling to dislodge his attacker. Ravage clung to him, using the impact to drive his teeth and claws deeper. His life depended on this.

Despair struck when he heard Rewind and Wheelie scrambling towards them. He *needed* to finish Steeljaw off. Bracing his legs against his opponent, he started tearing at his neck, snapping for something that might cripple him. It must be *now*.

A flurry of movement in his peripheral vision, a stinging impact on his nose and then his optics were burning with light. Now was too late.

It was not the flash of an explosion for the light stayed constant, blinding him, and he could hear the hiss of a flare. No, multiple flares… more hissing starting up in all directions. He was still entangled with Steeljaw, half-shielded by the Autobot, but the other Autobots need not use their guns. They would subdue him by hand once they got close enough.

His optics were screaming at him, but he strained his remaining senses, focused on a mental image of the area… Get out of the open; an enclosed space will shield.

Wrenching himself away from Steeljaw, he leaped blindly for a remembered crevice, slashed out in case somebody was in his way, in case Steeljaw was able to follow…

He recognised the sound of Rewind’s blaster. That was the shot that dropped him, unconscious.

While Rewind checked Steeljaw, Wheelie cautiously approached Ravage, sling-shotting a scrap of metal at him before nudging him with his foot. The Decepticon remained limp and unresponsive, so he knelt and lifted the head: no signs of activity, though he could feel the faint buzz of vital processes continuing.

He looked over to the others. Steeljaw was on his feet, making grumbling noises. The lion looked a mess, but Rewind was relaxed, chuckling sympathetically at his friend’s winces. He met Wheelie’s optics. “Ravage out for the count?”

“Sweet defeat,” Wheelie confirmed, and he ran a gaze over Steeljaw’s wounds, assessing them for himself.

“Ravage is always a nasty fight—the worst one of Soundwave’s bunch,” Rewind told him. “But he didn’t have time to do critical damage today. Good idea using a flare with the slingshot—you blinded him immediately.”

“The weapon’s compact, but not the impact.” Wheelie raised his slingshot and tapped it lightly against Rewind’s own diminutive blaster.

Rewind grinned appreciatively and activated the com-link. ::Arcee, Ravage is down, and the situation is under control. No further intervention will be needed.::

::Understood, Rewind. I’ll cancel my rampage of senseless destruction,:: came the dry response. ::Wheelie, can you give me a rendezvous point?::

Wheelie re-synched his nav-tracks and climbed up a bundle of cables to his right. The wreckage was loose here, and there was a mapped corridor just a few feet away. ::Destination: my location.::

::On it.::

Rewind clamped a restraining lock on Ravage, ensuring the Decepticon stayed unconscious while they cleared their path to the corridor. Arcee pulled up in car mode as they carried Ravage through.

“Team muscle, reporting for haul-out duty,” she quipped. “Looks like you took the hit for the team today, Steeljaw. Need a ride back?”

The lion grumbled again, but Rewind rapped him on the shoulder. “You know Blaster would be carrying you by now if he were here. Transform, and stop stressing those wounds.”

Like many Autobots who had been stationed on Earth, Arcee had had a tape deck installed in her vehicle mode, and Steeljaw dutifully slotted into it to Wheelie’s renewed fascination. Wondering if *he* had ever been that trusting, he caught himself touching on raw memories and pulled back to the present, helping Rewind sling Ravage into Arcee’s seats.

“Work, team; teamwork; team works.” He absently ran through the semantics until he realised Rewind was looking oddly at him. Wheelie merely tossed him on a careless grin, deciding that anybody who wanted him on their team was going to have to learn to deal with his loose screws. “One job done; next job begun.”

Rewind looked down at Ravage’s limp form. “That’s going to depend on him.”

Ravage came to, remembering his defeat. He lay in that memory for a moment, neither moving nor listening because he no longer needed to. That was over. He was uninjured—in fact he had been repaired, which seemed about typical of the Autobots: restore your health but take your freedom. Reluctantly, he reactivated his senses, one by one, saving his optics for last.

At least they had given him a prison cell with low light. He rolled onto his belly and raised his head: a standard recharge bunk on one wall was to be expected; the console on the other was not. He scowled suspiciously at it, and the screen activated, displaying Perceptor’s face.

“Greetings, Ravage. I apologise for the limitations of your, ah, accommodation, but our infrastructure is yet primitive—of which you should be cognisant. Please notify us if you have particular requirements that are not met, but considering your recent interactions, understand that you will remain in confinement for the duration of your stay.”

He paused, giving Ravage a chance to make some response. Ravage rose and stalked under the bunk—the only shadow his cell provided—turning his back on the console before curling into a ball.

“Your opinion is acknowledged,” the Autobot sighed. “Nevertheless, we have provided you with a transmitter capable of broadcasting to nearby systems. Please note you do not have access to the receiver; however, if there is a response to any communication you send, we will notify you.”

Did the Autobots not credit him with emotion or was this deliberate abuse? Ravage had been isolated from everyone he knew for days; to be told he could contact them but not hear their reply was so painful he could almost feel it physically.

“In recognition of the recent catastrophic events, Rodimus Prime has offered a ceasefire in the Cybertronian War,” Perceptor continued with brutal dispassion. “We will gladly secure your restoration to any allies that might survive, and we request that you raise the matter of arrangements for deceased Decepticons. Subsequent to the conflict with Unicron, it is an unfortunate reality that many remains have been found. We would grant them the respect of being interred by their own peers.”

Another pause. Ravage refused to react.

“Well, I believe that suffices for the present. I will leave you to deliberate these matters at your leisure. If you have any concerns, you will inevitably find a method of alerting us.” There was a click as the screen went black.

Ravage remained in his shadow. There would still be a camera on him, and if he used the transmitter, his message would be monitored by the Autobots before it was sent anywhere. Inaction was the only privacy he had.

Yet it had been seven days of isolation, and now he had a communications device. He would be transmitting to a void, certain only that the Autobots would be listening… but it would be with the *possibility* that his message would reach Soundwave. There was a comfort in the idea that his survival would be known to somebody who cared.

Nor would it be without purpose, he considered. He did not like the idea of being used as bait—even if the Autobots were sincere about letting him go, it would be humiliating to ask his fellow Decepticons to make themselves so vulnerable for his sake. However, he had information. With as little data as the Autobots seemed to have on Decepticons, it was very likely the Decepticons were as unaware about the status quo on Cybertron.

He spent a few more minutes on the age-old spy dilemma of how much of what he knew he wanted others to know he knew… Then he rose, padded to the console and folded himself into the cassette slot. Sacrificing the secrecy of one of Soundwave’s bands, he issued his transmission. When it was finished, he repeated it. Then he repeated it again.

He settled into the rhythm as if it were a heartbeat, eternally repeating his message, so he could linger in the dream of it being received.

-------

Author’s note:

When I started writing post-movie vignettes, I rather carelessly declared that there were no Decepticons left alive on Cybertron. It only took a few weeks before I started wondering: what if one survived and was now left behind, stranded on his own home-world?

Ravage was the only candidate I ever considered for this role, but it took a while for me to figure out a story… and then that one got very much away from me and ballooned into something else entirely. This story may have originally been conceived as Wheelie vs Ravage, but when I came to write the first draft, it was as the prologue of a larger story. And then I realised that both this prologue and the main story were going to be longer and more complicated than I first thought, so I reverted this to a story in its own right—it does end on a mild cliff-hanger, but nearly all my TF stories have an open ending. After all, they’re building towards canonical main events.

Wheelie was as obvious a choice as Ravage for a featured character. He’s just escaped the stranded in hostile territory situation and is now trying to adjust to ‘normal’ life when in many ways he’d be more comfortable in Ravage’s position. In my timeline, he’s spent all but a fraction of his life on Quintessa, and that’s going to have long term effects. So, while he’s trying to reintegrate into society and work with other people again, he’s not going to be rehabilitated after a week. He’s still got his anti-social streak, and he’s not convinced about rules—luckily, this is all backed up by the canon. Wheelie’s the one who goes joy-riding on garbage scows after all.

I don’t go into Wheelie’s past here; I don’t think the story needs it, but I’ve previously written a full backstory for Wheelie, and I’ve recently re-edited that and uploaded it to the website. So, if anybody does feel they want the context for Wheelie’s life before and during Quintessa, they can read Survivor—be warned, it’s a much longer story.

Unlike Wheelie, I’ve never previously written Ravage, and that was surprisingly fun. I’ve owned cats for most of my adult life, and I got a kick out of incorporating feline behaviour in a sapient character. I also liked the challenge of writing somebody who is mute, though I suppose I’m cheating by writing all of Ravage’s interactions with the Autobots from his POV. We only get Wheelie’s when Ravage is absent or unconscious.

Still, this is more Ravage’s story than Wheelie’s, and I need to figure out the Decepticon cassette dynamic before I graduate to writing Soundwave. I attempted Soundwave years ago when doing the origin story of Blaster’s cassettes, and it did not go well. The Decepticon cassettes are a family, though I don’t think they are a particularly demonstrative one, and it would have to have an impact on Ravage to be suddenly isolated. Trying to figure out what he was missing was the hardest part of his scenes.

The overall moral of the story is that people need people. Ravage is unhappy and ineffective when operating alone. Wheelie craves society even though he doesn’t know how to function within it. And while both are focused on their most basic needs for protection and sustenance, they’re also drawn to others.

In that vein, they can’t resolve their personal conflict alone—in fact, they don’t really get closure on each other at all. Ravage is rightly more concerned about Steeljaw by the end, and it’s Rewind who finally brings him down. Again, this story was originally written as a prologue and at that time, I planned a showdown between Wheelie and Ravage in the third act (this may or may not still happen in the next story—both will appear, but their roles are much smaller).

It may strike readers as an unsatisfactory ending—particularly as Rewind and Steeljaw only show up right before the final battle. Still, Wheelie’s character arc here is to realise the value of being a team, and that’s done. Meanwhile Ravage can’t get proper closure until he’s reunited with Soundwave, anyway.

Like Wheelie and Ravage, Arcee, Steeljaw and Rewind will all be in the follow-up story with this one originally serving as their introduction. It seemed like a good opportunity to write Arcee, especially since I could play around with some role reversal, have her be one of the physically strongest characters for a change. Her real purpose here is that of the relatable character, providing reference for the ‘norm’ against the emotional duress that Wheelie and Ravage are facing. Arcee’s got her own insecurities which give her sympathy with Wheelie here, but she’s got her friends and support network around her.

Incidentally, there’s no canon reference to say that Arcee’s bad at stealth, there just isn’t anything to say she’s good at it—the cartoon usually had her providing cover-fire for Autobots making a direct assault. So, as I wanted to give Wheelie a strength over her, Velvetverse Arcee is now rubbish at espionage. (And when it becomes plot-convenient for her to improve, I’ll say Wheelie gave her tips.)

Similarly, I don’t think there’s any canon for Rewind to be a crackshot, but we do see him making successful hits in Forever is a Long Time Coming, so why not? He is seen shooting Ravage in the Movie too, though as Frenzy is wrestling Eject at the time, the bit about him crushing Rewind’s hand in revenge is a callback to an earlier fic: in Earth Calling I said that Steeljaw had been blinded and Rewind had lost a hand.

I had thought I would write a fic about Rodimus visiting Earth, and figuring out which Autobots were going to do what and go where, touch base with the Witwicky family and finding some Decepticons… but nothing ever really triggered my brain into activity, and now I’ve bypassed that whole point in the chronology. I think there’s a decent chance I’ll go back and fill in the Earth events of the week at some point, but there are no plans.

One thing I did put in place was that Blaster would be offered the position of Autobot City Commander, which is why Steeljaw and Rewind come to Cybertron without him. They’re loosely here to model a successful socio-emotional relationship, and as a contrast to Wheelie and Ravage, but I’m generally intrigued by how cassettes operate when separated from their host, so this gives me an alternative route for that as we go into the next story.

However, the next story is shaping up to be far more centred on Soundwave and the Constructicons, so probably best not to hold out hope for any of these plot threads to be carried through. We’ll see how it plays out.