The Invisible Man
Prologue

"I'm the invisible man
I'm the invisible man
Incredible how you can see right through me."
—Queen, The Invisible Man

I admit, I was more than skeptical, and a little perturbed, when Solarflare suggested that we try and start a “family”. For the longest time, I had built the perfect life for us in my core consciousness; night after night, I pictured us among the Elite, regaling them with our heroism and Flare’s alien beauty at spectacular parties held at our new Tower manse. No where in those lavish and elaborate fantasies did I see squalling brats, Transformer or otherwise. It had always been the two of us, striking out along the new – free – Cybertron.

I know something had been stirring in her triple spark as the years of peace spread out before us, and more humans came to call Autobot City home. While I holed myself up for hours on end with Grapple and Hoist, working on the blueprints for our new Tower, Solarflare wandered the grounds and was her usual sociable self. At first, I thought she was just making conversation with the way she spoke of the humans and their offspring, but I knew her too well. I began to catch a low longing in her vocalizer, a far-off gaze in her optics when she spoke, the way she turned her head and flicked her crest. I sat there for the most part, chiming in with my own opinions, but in the back of my cortex, old memories began to stir. Painful thoughts I believed I had long suppressed through careful meditation and more than one shot of high-grade.

But my wild avian femme knew my spark as well. One day, she came into the study where I was sitting alone, chin in hand, scrolling over yet another refined set of blueprints. “If the family talk is making you uncomfortable,” she began quietly, “I’ll drop it.”

Instantly, I felt contrite, because Solarflare had not been meant to be caged, least of all by me. Over the years, we’ve had our arguments, and more than our share of differences, but we’ve always compromised in the end. I loved her more than anything in the Universe, even usurping my desire to be on my beloved Cybertron.

I forget how long I sat staring at those blueprints, with only the twin whir of our ventilators and the occasional creak of metal on metal riding upon the air. She believed that she knew everything there was to know about my past – my high-society excursions, elite companions, etc. – but there had been something I kept from her that was too close to my spark. Did I have what it took to roll down that road? Was I strong enough to revisit those memories?

Her soft whispering touch on my shoulder caused me to turn and catch her leaving. “Flare,” I called out, surprised at the hitch in my vocalizer, the rush of static that betrayed my insecurities. Slowly, she turned, cocking her head to the side in that manner which bespoke her avian instincts. I bowed my head and stood; she was my rock, I could trust her. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

I took her by the hand and moved to a low couch – more for my benefit than for hers. Her golden optics were narrowed with concern, her taloned hands running low and gentle over my slim black ones. Gathering my courage, I began: “Once … I had a family …”

I am Mirage of the Towers, called the Ligier by some.

But I am more. I am a spy, an Autobot, a marksmech, and a bondmate.

I am the Invisible Man.