Ratchet pulled up to the CORD facility, having practically sped there after learning about Blitzwing's attack on the building. He transformed into his robot mode, his jaw hinge dropping when he saw the devastation on the building.

"By the Allspark..." he swore.

He entered the facility, his eye immediately falling on the remains of Hoist. His chest plate had been reduced to bits of metal that now floated in the pool of Energon that had gathered beneath him. Preceptor was standing over him, his fists clenched and his optic sensors shut.

"Blitzwing..." the usually stoic scientist scowled.

"Where's Grapple?" Ratchet questioned, dreading the answer.

"In here." Wheeljack called from inside the biodome.

Ratchet entered the biodome, immediately seeing the remains of Grapple. The pools of liquid around his scattered parts made his cause of death too easy to tell and made the med-bot feel sick to his oil reserve. He turned away from the fallen Autobot towards Wheeljack, who was just staring at his fallen brethren.

"Why did they do this?" Ratchet questioned. "I always assumed CORD would be the last target on Megatron's sick mind."

"Apparently not..." Wheeljack muttered. "The cons killed Hoist and Grapple, then they made off with the organic."

Ratchet's optic sensors then drifted to the overturned cave, a lump of fear settling in his chest plate.

"Why would the cons take her?" He questioned.

"I wish we knew..." Preceptor admitted.

As they spoke, Ratchet's comm link began to squawk and chirp, a garbled voice trying to speak through a cloud of static.

"What in the name of Primus...?" Ratchet questioned, tapping his audio receptor. "Hello?"

Through the static, Ratchet heard a fem-bot voice calling out, a voice he recognized all too well.

"Ratchet!" Massacre cried through the comm. "Please, come in!"

Ratchet's optic sensors widened as realization dawned.

"Massacre!" he exclaimed. "How are you still online, and how did you get this frequency?!"

Both Preceptor and Wheeljack jolted at the mention of the Decepticon's name. Without any prompting, they both tapped into Ratchet's comm link so they could hear what the fem-bot had to say.

"Ratchet, listen, I don't know how long I have." Massacre spoke quickly. "Preceptor's Organic theory, the one about organic protoforms? It worked."

"My theory?" Preceptor questioned.

"That's why Blitzwing took the organic." Wheeljack realized.

"Listen, it worked, but there was a side effect." Massacre continued, talking even faster. "Massacre, the real Massacre, she's gone. I'm the little organic. My consciousness is in charge of her body. Please, you have to believe me!"

Ratchet let out a laugh.

"Believe a Decepticon?" He asked, his voice hard and distrustful. "Why in the name of Primus should I-"

"I hid behind your foot when we first met." Massacre interrupted. "My first Cybertronian word was your name. When you took me to the Iacon Council before the war started, I told you that Orion Pax could find the Matrix of Leadership even though you said it had been missing for mega-cycles!"

Ratchet fell silent, unable to believe his own audio-receptors. He exchanged glances with Preceptor and Wheeljack, who were equally floored. The things Massacre was describing were events and information that she had no way of knowing, unless she truly was the organic.

"It is you..." Ratchet let out. "You're online..."

"Not for long." Massacre replied as the sound of jet engines filled the comm link. "Megatron's furious that I escaped and I've got cons trying to find me."

Her voice seemed to catch and the fear coursing through her system became all too obvious.

"I don't know where I am, I don't know how long I can evade the cons, and I know that even if I find my way to Iacon-"

"The Elite Guard would terminate you before you even reached the Great Dome." Wheeljack finished for her.

"Please..." Massacre begged. "I need help..."

"Don't worry, little one." Ratchet assured her. "I'll make sure you get to safety, even if I have to come find you myself."

Massacre went to reply, but instead she let out a yelp, the line suddenly cutting off. With a sliver a fear working through his shell, Ratchet transformed, rolling out with Preceptor and Wheeljack right behind him.

...

Optimus stood in the war room, looking over a large holographic map of Cybertron. Around him were his most trusted Lieutenants; Ironhide, Jazz, and Ultra Magnus. Though the Autobots had been victorious in protecting Iacon, the recent attack on CORD had made it quite clear that there was still a great deal of work to do before the war could come to an end.

Optimus barely heard the doors to the war room open, though he did hear the sound of his friend Ratchet screeching to a halt in his vehicle mode. He looked up as Ratchet entered his robot mode, the look on his faceplate showing a great deal of distress.

"Ratchet, is everything alright?" Optimus questions.

"I'm afraid not, Optimus." The Med-bot replied. "I need to speak to you, in private if possible."

Optimus turned to his lieutenants, who all wordlessly stood up and left the room. Wheeljack and Preceptor entered not long after, sealing the doors behind them.

"Is this about Bumblebee?" Optimus asked.

"No, the young scout will be fine, albeit mute I'm afraid." Ratchet assured him. "This visit is about something else."

"We're here about what happened back at our facility." Wheeljack explained.

"Yes, I heard about Grapple and Hoist." Optimus replied, looking down sadly. "You have my condolences for their loss."

"Optimus, you remember the little organic CORD had on sight?" Ratchet asked.

"How could I forget?" Optimus answered, a rare smile gracing his face plate. "You have told me many fond stories of her."

"Well, it would seem that she managed to survive the attack, though not entirely unscathed." Ratchet continued.

Optimus' metallic eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Preceptor quickly stepped in to explain.

"I'm not sure how, but the Decepticons managed to get ahold of my Organic Energon theory." He declared. "Megatron thought the organic could be used to revive Massacre, and he was both right and wrong."

"Massacre is online?!" Optimus exclaimed.

"Yes, and no." Wheeljack replied. "Apparently, the organic's consciousness has taken hold of the con and is running the show."

Optimus looked at Wheeljack, his confusion and horror giving way to suspicion and trepidation. The bots knew that it wasn't directed at them, but at what they had just suggested.

"Ratchet, are you sure about this?" He asked, "It is no secret that you care for the organic, and I fear that Massacre may be trying to use that sentiment against you."

"Believe me, I was skeptical too." Ratchet told him. "But she knew things, things only the organic could have possibly known. I don't know how it happened, but my friend is alive, and she needs help."

"She said that cons were trying to find her, and we could hear them in the background." Wheeljack added.

"Optimus, if the organic really is inside Massacre, we can't just stand idly by while Megatron does Primus knows what to her."

Optimus mulled this over, looking at the three bots before his optic sensors settled on his old friend.

"I am not saying we shouldn't look into this," Optimus decided, "but we will take all necessary precautions. Ironhide and I will accompany you to Massacre's location."

"Optimus, you're going?" Ratchet questioned.

"I've extinguished her spark before," Optimus explained, "and if this proves to be a trap, I will do so again."

...

Huddled in her hiding spot along the ridge, Massacre waited. Every servo in her body wanted nothing more than to run for the hills, but she knew that if she was to get away online, she had to wait for Ratchet. Her audio receptors picked up a strange sound, almost like the one her cannon made when she powered it up. However, this sound was far louder and deeper, and its source became quite apparent rather quickly.

A large, swirling green portal opened up behind Massacre, bathing her ridge in the vortex of light, she peaked around her ridge to see three bots emerging from the light. One was a large red bot that was twice as big as any bot she'd ever seen. The second was a blue and red bot that she did recognize, and the third was a familiar faceplate that she was so happy to see.

"Autobots, fan out." Optimus addressed the two bots he was with. "And Ironhide, this is a search and rescue mission until I deem it otherwise. That means you do not engage Massacre."

"I hear ya." Ironhide told Optimus. "I may not like this, but ya ain't led me astray so far."

Massacre took a deep breath, then called out.

"I'm over here."

The three bots paused, both Optimus and Ironhide bringing out their weapons. Massacre flinched at the sounds, but forced herself to stay calm.

"Come out with your servos up." Ironhide ordered.

Massacre slowly got to her feet, lifting her hands up in a pacifying gesture as she came into view of the Autobots. She locked gazes with Ratchet, giving him a small smile.

"Hey Ratchet." she said softly. "Thanks for coming."

"You think I'd let my friend rust away in that sadistic con's body?" Ratchet questioned.

"Hold Ratchet." Optimus warned. "While I trust your judgement, until we can be certain she is no threat to us, necessary precautions must be taken."

Ironhide reached for his hip, pulling out a pair of cuffs hooked onto it. Before he could even take one step towards Massacre, a voice called out from the skies.

"Optimus Prime!" Starscream called out. "Thank you so much for finding our wayward Decepticon!"

The four bots turned as Starscream landed behind them, a platoon of vehicons behind him. They all aimed their weapons at the bots, Optimus and Ironhide doing the same. Ratchet instinctively moved himself between the cons and Massacre.

"Hand over my virus-ridden comrade, Autobots." Starscream ordered.

"And let you erase the last trace of my organic friend?" Ratchet balked. "Not on your spark."

"You know, I was hoping you'd say that." Starscream grinned.

Starscream and the vehicons unleashed a volley of laser fire on the bots, Optimus and Ironhide returning fire. Ratchet led Massacre behind a building as the blaster fire went wild.

Ironhide spun his cannons before letting loose on the Decepticons. One by one, the Vehicons hit the ground, but continued to pour in to aid Starscream. Seeing no end to the onslaught of enemies, Optimus made a decision.

"Jazz, we need a Groundbridge." he declared into his

"On its way!" Jazz replied.

"Prime, you sure bringing her back to Iacon is a good idea?" Ironhide questioned, glancing back at the building where Ratchet and Massacre were crouched.

"We don't have choice." Optimus replied. "We're outnumbered here."

The swirling green portal returned, appearing behind Ratchet and Massacre.

"Autobots, fall back!" Optimus ordered.

Ratchet grabbed Massacre's arm, pulling her towards the portal urgently. She stumbled after him, looking back at Ironhide and Optimus. She didn't have long before she was pulled into the swirling mass of light. Once they were through, both Optimus and Ironhide followed suit, keeping their backs to the portals and their guns firing at the vehicons and Starscream.

"Don't let them escape!" Starscream howled.

"Too late, Decepticon!" Ironhide shouted back.

Together, he and Optimus disappeared into the portal, the lights closing up seconds before the first Vehicon could touch it. Starscream lowered his gun, a feeling of dread seeping into his spark chamber.

"Scrap." He swore, his voice an octave higher than normal.

...

Ratchet and Massacre appeared on the other end of the Groundbridge, stumbling as they did. Ratchet managed to steady himself easily, used to traveling via Groundbridge to aid fallen bots. Massacre, who'd never traveled through one before, promptly landed on her face. Before she could get up, every bot in the control room had their weapons up, aimed right at her.

"Put it in neutral, Massacre." Jazz ordered.

Massacre looked up nervously, remaining on the ground with her hands planted firmly in front of her. Ratchet stepped in between his fellow bots and Massacre.

"There's no need for that." He assured them. "She doesn't mean us any harm."

"Ratchet, have you blown a fuse?!" Arcee exclaimed, her optic sensors never leaving Massacre's frozen form. "That's Massacre, Megatron's second in command! Do you not remember how many bots she's terminated, the amount of Energon she has on her servos?!"

About that time, Optimus and Ironhide appeared in the Groundbridge, the portal closing behind them.

"Everybody, stand down." Optimus ordered.

"Optimus," Arcee sputtered, "you can't be-"

"I said stand down, Arcee." Optimus interrupted.

Arcee paused, the reluctantly stepped back, though her weapons remained trained on Massacre. She was not the only one who remained wary of the Decepticon, but none of them seemed actively prepared to attack. Optimus knew this would be the closest he would get to getting them to back down and decided to proceed.

"Ironhide, escort Massacre and Ratchet to the medical bay." He requested. "Preceptor, Wheeljack, your expertise may help to solve this mystery sooner rather than later."

Ironhide pulled the cuffs off his hip once more, quickly cuffing Massacre's hands in front of her and hauling her to her feet. The bots in the room parted ranks as he led her away, Ratchet and the two scientists right on his tailpipe.

"Optimus, are you certain about this." Jazz asked. "I know you trust Ratchet, but this is Massacre we're talking about.

"Starscream called Massacre virus-ridden." Optimus remembered. "It's likely he was speaking of Ratchet's organic friend, and if that is true, then I owe it to Ratchet to give him a chance to aid her."

"If you say so Prime." Jazz relented.

"Besides, if Ratchet's organic friend is now in control, then Massacre may no longer be one of our most feared enemies. In fact, I believe she may become one of our greatest assets."

...

Ironhide waited outside of Ratchet's medical lab, allowing the four bots some privacy. Massacre looked around, a small smile on her faceplate.

"It's definitely different from CORD." she commented as she was placed against an operating table.

"CORD was a scientific laboratory." Ratchet reminded her, activating a set of emergency restraints on the table to seal her to it. "This is a medical lab. Two different functions, two different layouts."

"Right, makes sense." she allowed, testing her restraints a bit.

"Sorry about these." Ratchet apologized as he removed the cuffs on her wrists, moving them into the proper position on the table.

"Ratchet, I've seen the vids of what Massacre has done to the Autobots." She replied. "You'd be stupid not to take precautions."

Preceptor approached the table, loosening a panel on the side of Massacre's head while Wheeljack grabbed some wires from a machine.

"We'll need to take a peek in your processor to see exactly what's happened to you." he told her as he inserted the wires. "It won't hurt, promise."

"Like that time you promised me it wouldn't hurt when you tried to fix my leg when I fell off the top of my cave?" Massacre questioned, raising a metallic eyebrow.

Wheeljack paused as Preceptor chuckled, visibly relaxing at the mention of the incident. It was one only the organic could have known about, and it helped to confirm that the bot in front of them was truly housing their organic friend.

"I'm sure this time will be much different." Preceptor assured her.

"He's right." Ratchet agreed, attaching two large tubes to Massacre's chest plate. "For this to work, I need to induce stasis."

"You'll power down for a few kliks while we see what's going on in your processor." Preceptor informed her.

Massacre looked over at Ratchet, who was standing over the controls to the stasis machine. He looked over at her, giving her a patient smile.

"Alright, do it." Massacre declared.

Ratchet flipped on the machine, watching as Massacre's optic sensors closed as she entered stasis mode. He moved back to the first machine, bringing up several life signals on a holographic screen. He tapped on one, bringing up what appeared to be an image of Massacre's processor. Ratchet examined it closely, Preceptor and Wheeljack coming up behind him.

"What're we looking at, Ratch?" Wheeljack questioned.

"You see this mass of coding here?" Ratchet asked, pointing to a seemingly random splotch of green code practically covering the processor. "I believe that this is the organic's consciousness, reduced to Cybertronian coding after the infusion process."

"So, can we get her out?" Preceptor wondered.

"I'm afraid that's going to be impossible." Ratchet lamented. "For all intents and purposes, she is a virus infecting Massacre's system. Removing her without completely erasing her... and even if by some miracle we did manage to remove her, it's not like we can just put her back in her old body."

"The process would have completely disintegrated her body, turning it into Energon to fuel the process." Preceptor rationalized.

"So, we can't do scrap to help her?" Wheeljack snapped. "She's stuck inside that- that-"

"Easy Wheeljack." Ratchet told him. "We have to see the positive side to all this."

"What positive side?" Wheeljack demanded.

"I think he means that with the organic in control of Massacre's body, the con we all know and loathe is gone."

...

Inside Massacre's processor, the organic dreamed of her biodome back at CORD. She ran about the dome, jumping around from tree to tree and laughing. She was completely aware that she was dreaming, but that knowledge didn't deter her from enjoying herself. She landed in her triumphant pose, her laugher dying off slightly as she sighed.

"This is so surreal." she mused, looking around the landscape. "I guess while in stasis, you can dream but you know you're dreaming."

She went to fall into the grass, but rather than land on the soft foliage, she instead found herself landing hard on something metal. She winced and sat up, rubbing the back of her head.

"What the-"

She looked down and gasped hard, scrambling backward. Emerging from the ground was a metallic hand with long, sharp fingers. Said fingers clawed at the dirt, scrambling for some kind of purchase in order to pull themselves free. The organic kept backing away, eventually hitting the wall of her dome as she watched a fem-bot begin to push her way through the grass. She sat up, her red optic sensors scanning her surroundings.

"What in the name of Unicron is this place?" she demanded.

The organic stared at the fem-bot, recognizing who she was.

"Massacre..." she whimpered.

Massacre turned towards the organic, her optic sensors narrowing at the sight of her. She snarled and grabbed the organic, pulling her closer. As she did this, the biodome seemed to slowly fade out of existence, crumbling away to reveal a much darker, Cybertronian landscape. Both Massacre and the organic noticed this, the former coming to a startling realization.

"This isn't real, is it?" the fem-bot questioned. "This is all in my mind."

She looked down at the organic in her grasp, then at the slowly dying plants around her.

"And you... what are you?" she snapped.

Massacre squeezed the organic, eliciting a yelp from her and causing the plants to die ever faster.

...

On the screen displaying Massacre's processor, the green mass of coding began to shrink. As this began, the sensors began to beep frantically, alerting the three bots to what was going on. Ratchet's optic sensors widened at the sight as panic began to set in.

"No... This can't be!" he exclaimed.

"What's going on, Ratchet?" Preceptor questioned.

"I spoke too soon." Ratchet muttered, looking back at Massacre. "The con's online in there, and her system is trying to purge the organic!"

Massacre's body began to spasm, pulling against the restraints holding her. The two tubes keeping her in stasis flew off as her optic sensors snapped open. She yanked at her restraints, trying desperately to escape. At the sound of her struggles, Ironhide came in, his guns out seconds before the bonds snapped.

"Get down!" Ironhide ordered.

Ratchet knew Ironhide well enough to know he planned to use lethal means of taking down Massacre. He also knew that if he didn't act fast, his organic friend truly would be gone. Acting fast, he slammed his hand on an emergency button, an energy shield coming down around Massacre's table. Massacre's fists slammed against it as Ironhide's blast were absorbed by the shield.

"Ratchet, what are you doing?!" Ironhide demanded.

"The organic is still in there!" Ratchet argued, pointing to the screen. "She's in there, and she's fighting!"

Massacre cackled.

"The organic?" she mused, grinning cruelly. "So, that's what the little insect infecting my processor is. Maybe I'll keep her around so she can watch me extinguish your spark."

As she said this, the green code on the display ceased being pushed back. Instead, it seemed to be at a standstill. Massacre froze, her metallic eyebrows furrowing and her hands shaking. Ironhide watched the con confused, though the other three bots seemed to understand what was going on.

"I think she heard you, Massacre." Wheeljack commented with a smirk.

"And I think she's got a different idea." Preceptor added.

Massacre stumbled backward, hitting the table and clutching her processor.

"No..." she muttered, wrenching the wires from her processor in the process, "this- isn't- You're just an organic-"

Her head snapped back and she blinked several times. She looked over at Ratchet, her optic sensors filled with fear and strain rather than the malice and hatred from before.

"Ratchet..." she said through gritted teeth. "She's... too strong... I can't... hold her..."

Ratchet pulled down a lever, filling the shielded area with a stasis-inducing gas. Massacre slid to her knees, a grateful smile on her face before she returned to stasis. The four bots stared for a minute as the gas dissipated, Ratchet releasing the field. Ironhide moved quickly, cuffing Massacre's arms again and even adding a clamp to her wings as an added measure.

"Ratchet, I'm sorry, but I have to lock her up properly." Ironhide informed her. "Massacre is online, and if we give her even a small degree of freedom-"

"I know." Ratchet interjected. "Do what you must, but please... don't hurt her."

Ironhide gave a small nod, Preceptor and Wheeljack helping him drag the unconscious con out of the lab. Ratchet watched them, then looked back at the screen. It was flashing error messages all across, the wires laying sparking on the ground. In a fit of rage unbecoming of the med-bot, Ratchet's fists clenched and he slammed them on the table, shouting in anger as he did.

...

News of the incident reached Optimus rather quickly, as well as how poorly his friend was taking it. Feeling the need to ensure Ratchet was doing alright, Optimus made his way towards Ratchet's medical lab. The door hissed open, revealing the med-bot standing in front of his large computer terminal. He had several files up on screen, scanning through them at a record pace. Optimus gave his friend a quick glance over, unable to hold in the sigh of relief when he realized that he was unharmed.

"Need anything Optimus?" Ratchet questioned, his optic sensors never leaving the screen.

"I just came to see if you were alright." Optimus answered, coming up beside Ratchet.

"Alright?" Ratchet scoffed. "Optimus, I can repair any limb damage you give me. I can reattach a neural network while in power-down mode. Most physical damage done to a bot, I can repair, but I can't even help my organic friend."

Optimus placed a hand on Ratchet's shoulder plate in an attempt to calm the med-bot. As he did, he caught a glance of one of the many tabs open on the terminal. Almost every file was on organic viruses, mental maladies, and even some theories on consciousness transfers.

"Ratchet, you're doing everything you can-"

"And it's not enough!" Ratchet exclaimed, batting Optimus' hand off his shoulder. "Everything I've found is absolutely useless! Meanwhile, my friend is forced into a mental battle she never asked for against a Decepticon that should have remained offline!"

Optimus clutched his friend's arms, forcing the med-bot to look at him.

"Ratchet..." Optimus began, speaking calmly and softly. "None of this is your fault, and blaming yourself for something out of your servos will not help the organic."

Ratchet was silent for a moment, letting Optimus' words sink in. He took a deep breath, then his frame visibly relaxed. Optimus released his arms, though kept his optic sensors on the med-bot.

"I'm sorry..." Ratchet said softly. "I just... I wish I could help her, but all of my research comes to the same conclusion: Removing the organic's consciousness from Massacre is impossible, and attempting to remove Massacre could delete the organic."

There was a hiss as the doors to the med-bay opened, allowing in a small, two wheeler. Said two wheeler transformed into a sleek black and golden Autobot with a long visor for eyes.

"Optimus," the bot greeted. "I apologized for interrupting, but I couldn't help but overhear."

"It's alright Prowl." Optimus replied. "What do you need?"

"I heard about what happened with Massacre, and how Ratchet's organic friend appears to be actively trying to maintain control. Though I may not be a medical bot like Ratchet, I think I may have a technique that could aid the organic in her fight."

"Help her?" Ratchet questioned. "I want to remove her."

"And I have no doubt that you will find a way, old friend." Optimus assured him. "However, until you do, perhaps allowing Prowl to aid her in maintaining control would be a wise course of action."

Ratchet looked at Prowl, then over at Optimus.

"Alright." Ratchet decided. "You can help. Primus knows I'm completely out of my element here."

Prowl smiled, giving Ratchet a nod.

"Your friend will succeed." Prowl assured him. "I have faith in her."

Prowl transformed back into his two-wheeler mode, rolling out. Ratchet watched him go before resuming his research.

"As do I." he murmured

...

Down in the Autobot Stockades, Massacre sat in the center of a barren cell. Her weapons had been disabled, her wrists were still cuffed, and the clamp remained locked on her wings. However, these precautions were useless in the battle waging inside Massacre's processor. After Massacre's threat of terminating Ratchet, the organic had started fighting back against the cruel con.

In her desperate attempt to protect her friend, the organic had learned that she could manipulate the mental background, much like how Massacre had when she appeared. She had summoned several different plants she had interacted with back in the dome, using them to restrain Massacre and maintain a tentative hold on control.

"Pathetic organic virus." Massacre taunted, snapping several tree roots trying to hold her back. "You think you can keep me from reclaiming my body?"

The organic gritted her teeth and thrusted her arms out, causing more roots to replace the ones that had snapped. Massacre was wrenched back, her metallic teeth gnashing in anger.

"I will reclaim control," Massacre promised, "and when I do, I'm going to tear every single Autobot apart. Starting with that med-bot you seem to care about."

The organic's fists clenched and the grip of the roots grew tighter.

"Keep talking, you sadistic glitch." she growled. "You're making this fight so much easier."

While this mental fight raged inside Massacre's processor, her body remained completely still, save for slight twitching of her metallic eyebrows. This was how Prowl found her as he approached the electric field that prevented her from leaving the cell.

Unsure of how to address the bot before him, Prowl opted to lightly knock on the side of the door frame. The sound of metal on metal snapped the bot back to reality. Her gaze fell on the two wheeler, and Prowl was relieved to see a softness in her optic sensors, revealing the organic as the current dominant persona.

"Greetings." Prowl said curtly, giving a small nod.

"Hi." Massacre replied, remaining where she was. "Who're you?"

"My name is Prowl." the two-wheeler explained. "I'm a cyber-ninja, and a member of Optimus Prime's stealth team."

"A ninja?" Massacre repeated. "Why are you here? You're obviously not hear to terminate me, or else you wouldn't be talking to me."

Prowl gave a small nod.

"I'm not here to hurt you." he assured her. "Quite the opposite actually. I'm here to help you."

"How?" Massacre asked, "Do you have a way to remove Massacre?"

"I'm sorry, but no." Prowl replied, "However, I may have a way to aid you in your mental battle."

Massacre looked up a bit, watching as Prowl sat down on the opposite side of the field.

"Back when I was training under Master Yoketron, he taught me an advanced technique known as Processor over Matter. It will allow you to strengthen your hold over Massacre's body, as well as her spark. With time and patience, you may even become strong enough to erase her for good."

Massacre's optic sensors became a bit brighter at the prospect.

"What do I need to do?" she asked.

Prowl smiled slightly, then got into a meditative position. Massacre followed suit as best she could with her cuffs and wing clamp.

"Now close your eyes." Prowl instructed.

Massacre did as she was told.

"Now focus." he continued. "Focus on my voice. Let the rest of the world face away."

She took a deep breath, the faint humming of the electrical barrier slowly fading from her audio receptors.

"Now repeat after me." Prowl called out. "I control Massacre, Massacre doesn't control me."

"I control Massacre," she began. "Massacre doesn't control me."

"Keep going." Prowl urged her. "As long as you keep this in mind, the Decepticon will never see the light of day again."

Massacre continued repeating the mantra over and over again. As she was in the middle of her third repetition, her entire frame tensed. Her metallic teeth gritted, then her head snapped up. Her gaze fell on Prowl, her eyes brimming with seething hatred.

"Do you really think some organic virus can keep me down with some silly words?" she hissed, "This is my body, and I am going to reclaim it!"

"This is a battle you have already lost." Prowl informed the evil Massacre. "The organic will prevail. I have faith in her."

As if spurred by Prowl's words, Massacre's head snapped back once more, her optic sensors remaining closed.

"I control Massacre." she hissed, her hands clenched tightly. "Massacre doesn't control me."

"That's it." Prowl encouraged. "Don't let her get to you. Keep fighting, no matter what."

Inside Massacre's processor, Massacre struggled against the mental vines keeping her from regaining control. The organic had assumed a position similar to the one the bot's body was in, repeating the mantra and strengthening the grip of the vines.

"This will never work!" Massacre screamed, trying to break the organic's concentration and free herself. "Even if you spend Mega-cycles repeating that blasted mantra, I will never be silenced! I will free myself!"

The organic looked at the bot with a determined expression on her face.

"No matter how long it takes, or how many times I have to force you down, I will never stop fighting you." The organic promised. "You will never hurt any of my friends again. Never."