Chapter Two
Cone of Silence

Another day, another pile of paperwork.

Cliffjumper hated traitors, not just because they completely dishonoured the Autobot cause, but because they created more paperwork. The Cybertron Intelligence office was already a mess. Steel boxes were chalked full of an assortment of objects; profiles, datapads, photographs, diagrams, and anything else imaginable. They lined the walls, they blocked the windows, they framed the desk and neared the ceiling.

This was the mess Cliffjumper had been greeted with just about every morning for the past who-knows-how-many solar cycles. And his set task? To get rid of it. It wasn't as easy as it sounded. Interruption upon interruption came mainly from Cybertron Command, where the council was running things until Sentinel got back to Cybertron. If they just started thinking reasonably, he wouldn't be stuck in the middle of this chaos.

On the desk, a datapad clearly displayed a list of various tasks to complete. Organize reports. Handle all incoming messages to Cybertron Intelligence. Erase all evidence of "Longarm Prime." Throw any file mentioning him into the incinerator...

Cliffjumper hit his head against the roof of his desk as he mentally ran through this list. He glanced towards the incinerator.

His inner Sentinel Prime shouted "get back to work."

He didn't get the chance to abide by this. There was a faint ringing in his ears. At first he thought it was another daydream that had come back to haunt him upon recalling the events that had led up to this moment. Then, as he snapped back to reality, he realized that it was the computer announcing that there was an incoming transmission. To his dismay, the computer also happened to be buried. Datapads flew into the air as Cliffjumper dived for the area where he roughly recalled leaving it. He overturned a few boxes before managing to tap the response button.

However, his arms were still filled with boxes and various datapads.

'What?' he shouted.

'Excuse me?'

Slag. 'Uh, sorry. Cybertron Intelligence, Cliffjumper speaking. Now what'dya want?'

'Alpha Trion, Cliffjumper.'

'SLAG!' Cliffjumper dropped all the boxes and dropped down to grab them. What am I doing? He sprang back up, faced the screen, and saluted the face of Alpha Trion. 'Sir! I'm sorry, sir, I've been –'

'Overwhelmed?' Alpha Trion finished, glaring at him with cold optics.

'Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, sir.'

'Do not even begin to flatter yourself,' drawled Alpha Trion.

Another face appeared on the screen, next to Alpha Trion's. It was Perceptor. 'Judging by your apparent surprise, I assume that you did not remember the conference?'

'Conference?'

'With Sentinel Prime...?'

Cliffjumper blinked, then snapped his fingers. 'I knew I forgot about something...'

'If you would rather sit out, that can certainly be arranged,' said Alpha Trion.

'No, no, I'm fine,' Cliffjumper kicked a few boxes out of the way to find his chair. He scooted up to the monitor. 'Ready.'

While Alpha Trion glared, he didn't seem interested in rebuking Cliffjumper further.

The call was made. Cliffjumper tried not to fidget too much. How the slag could he have forgotten about this? Alpha Trion had just reminded him yesterday!...Yet this could serve as an excuse to take the day off...Nah, if he took the day off, he'd just go back to thinking about Long – Shockwave! His name was Shockwave! (Slagging traitor.)

A few nanoclicks later, the dreaded chin of Sentinel appeared on the monitor, alongside Alpha Trion and Perceptor.

'Greetings, Sentinel Prime,' said Perceptor. 'We are contacting you because the council has decided to break the news of the attack on Ultra Magnus to all of Cybertron.'

'Bad idea, Perceptor, just, uh...keep it quiet until I get back there and take control,' Sentinel said.

'These are decisions that must be made by the entire council,' pointed out Perceptor.

'And your "taking control" is especially premature, since Ultra Magnus is still online,' added Alpha Trion, 'albeit, on spark support.'

'With all due respect, Alpha Trion, the, uh, council should concern itself with more important matters, like beefing up security for the Decepticon prisoners that...' he cleared his throat, 'I captured.

Cliffjumper sneered. Looks like some things never changed. 'I thought that was Prowl.'

'Not to mention Shockwave is still at large and running around with Ultra Magnus's hammer!' continued Sentinel.

Don't remind me, Cliffjumper thought.

'What exactly is the council doing about that?'

'Tread carefully, Sentinel Prime!' Alpha Trion advised. 'The Autobots will not take kindly to your mussling in on the council.'

With that, the transmission ended. Cliffjumper breathed a sigh of relief.

'And as for you, Cliffjumper,' said Alpha Trion. 'If you wish to be elected to head of Cybertron Intelligence, I suggest you choose your words more wisely.'

'Yes, sir! Understood, sir!'

'And...cut down on the formalities. It's very annoying.'

The screen went blank. Cliffjumper heaved a huge sigh of relief and collapsed into his chair, not realizing that he'd jumped to his feet again after Alpha Trion had addressed him.

He stared at the ceiling. It was good to stare at something that was totally vacant of any personality or monstrous chins. He'd suffered through traitors, paperwork, and now Sentinel Prime. When he became head of Intel and got his own secretary, then he could get some rest and relaxation. Wait, that was worse! Then he'd start thinking about the traitor. (Curse Shockwave.) On the other servo, he'd have an excuse to yell at 'bots...Well, that was one upside.

Once more, his inner Sentinel Prime took the podium and whacked him on the head. "Get back to work."

'I'm getting on it, jerk aft,' muttered Cliffjumper.

'That sort of language is not office appropriate.'

He paused and hoped that that voice existed only in his imagination.

Cliffjumper roughly pushed aside the various debris blocking his view. He came face-to-face with a mech, two times his height, brown armour, and a black visor muffling his prominent yellow optics. The stranger glared down at him with a cold expression. Cliffjumper drew himself up to his full height, checking the faction symbol displayed proudly on his chest. Autobot.

Whoever this guy was, he hated him already.

'Who the slag are you?'

'My name is Stance; I work with Cybertron Command,' said the Autobot. 'I presume you're Agent Cliffjumper?'

'Yeah, now SLAG OFF!' Cliffjumper barked. 'In case you didn't get the memo, I'm a little busy at the moment. I don't need another report!...What are you writing down?'

'Oh, this, that, you know. Have you gotten to the profiles, yet?'

Cliffjumper gestured to the stack of datapads balancing on his desk.

'I see,' Stance wrote down something else. 'Are you awa – '

'Do you need something?' Cliffjumper demanded. He pulled out one of the drawers, overflowing with unorganized paperwork, and slammed it down. Stance didn't even look nervous. His pen was merely a blur, now; no doubt he was complaining about his attitude problem. Yes, 'bots sent directly by Cybertron Command were that predictable.

'I know this isn't exactly convenient, but I require your full cooperation. I'm doing a private investigation into how Shockwave managed to side-step the background check. Did you notice any unusual mannerisms before his identity was uncovered? No? Yes? Agent Cliffjumper, I'm aware of your dedication when it comes to your work, but this is extremely important if we wish to avoid similar incidents in the future.'

'I'm busy,' snapped Cliffjumper. 'Come back later.'

More notes. 'Did you notice any unusual mannerisms from Shockwave before his cover was exposed?'

Cliffjumper's optic twitched. 'Just tense. He was just tense.'

'Did he ever work over-hours?'

'Yeah, but that was normal!'

'Did he ever ask you to do tasks that were suspicious in nature?'

'If you call "nothing" suspicious, then, yes.'

'Very interesting,' Stance skimmed down his notes. 'Describe him.'

'A good leader, intelligent, and a traitorous slagger,' Cliffjumper didn't waver at the question. He began to shuffle around the boxes, appearing to be trying to make more room. In reality, he was trying to give his hands something to do, so he didn't spontaneously strangle this newcomer.

'When did you first meet him?'

'A long time ago.'

'Did he offer you this job?'

'Look, he needed a personal assistant, the femmes were being complete glitches about it, and I was at hand. Simple as that.'

'Did he ever discuss his personal affairs with you? Were you two social in any way?'

'Are you implying something?' Cliffjumper asked.

'No. Answer the question.'

He grumbled. 'Yeah, we'd go out for oil once in a while, but we weren't really friends. It was just a boss-employee thing. Are you done asking questions?'

'Hardly,' said Stance. 'Do you know if he had any personal relationships?'

'No,' replied Cliffjumper. 'He kept to himself.'

'Are you sure?'

'No.'

'You mentioned before that Shockwave often worked over-hours. Do you know what he worked on?'

'Paperwork, private communications, c'mon! This is Cybertron Intelligence! This place is built on secrets!'

'Private communications? Do you know who he spoke to?'

'He used secure frequencies. I always thought he was talking to one of the agents.

'That sounds very suspicious, and I do not doubt that my superiors would agree.' Stance paused. 'Did you ever ask him who he was communicating with?'

'I just told you, I never knew who he was talking with,' said Cliffjumper. '"Longarm" did a lot of his own work. I received the paperwork or communications, and I patched them through. I never eavesdropped, because there was no reason to be suspicious. Everything about that kind of behaviour is normal in Cybertron Intelligence. Perhaps you and the rest of those guys high up need to get out more.'

Cliffjumper turned to find himself right in Stance's shadow. He let out a frustrated growl, sidestepped him, and proceeded to organize a drawer of a filing cabinet. Stance's supremely impassive optics were on him the entire time.

'Quit staring at me! Are we done yet?'

Stance didn't say anything for what seemed like endless cycles. 'When was the last time you saw Agent Blurr?'

Cliffjumper froze. Very slowly, he turned to face his interrogator. Stance waited expectedly for a reply, pen poised, ready to drop the dagger. It was probable that he was going to end Cliffjumper's career if he worded this incorrectly. This is what the conversation had been building up to.

Cliffjumper raised a pen to scratch the side of his head. 'Agent Blurr? Uh, no, not for a while.'

'Explain.'

'Field agents don't hang around here, and when they come by, it's usually not for long,' elaborated Cliffjumper. 'Blurr – being the best – he's usually gone for stellar cycles. He choses the hard jobs, and gets straight on it. Doesn't seem to like Cybertron much. He checks in every three or four solar cycles.'

'I see. And when was the last time he checked in?'

Cliffjumper picked up the file he'd set aside. The one with Blurr's profile staring blankly at the ceiling. He scrolled down so he wouldn't have to look at his identification picture, aiming instead for the dates Stance had requested.

'Last time...four solar cycles before Longarm...quit.'

'So he's severely overdue. Why didn't you note his absence?'

Cliffjumper waved a datapad in Stance's faceplate. 'Hello? Government turmoil? I was a little distracted by the fact that my boss was actually a slagging Decepticon!'

'Interesting. According to your records, you attended the Autobot Academy with Agent Blurr. Can you describe the extent of your relationship?'

'Professional.'

'What was his last known location?'

'If my records are so detailed that they note who my classmates were,' Cliffjumper glared, 'then I'm sure Blurr's are just as informative. Check them, because I don't have a slagging clue. Shockwave had him on some...secret mission. Ultra Magnus asked for him, personally. I only handled communications.'

'How long have you been working for Shockwave?'

His piled the profiles to move them to a safer location, away from Stance. 'Word that more carefully.'

'How long were you unwittingly working for Shockwave?'

'I wasn't working for Shockwave! I was working for Longarm Prime, who was supposed to be an Autobot! Are you suggesting I'm a traitor?'

'Nothing of the sort.'

'I'm gonna have to get you to leave.'

'Come again?'

'I have work to do, and you're in my way. OUT.'

Despite the fact that Stance could easily slag him, Cliffjumper decided he didn't care. He roughly pushed the agent through the door, though it took a kick and two punches before he left. Standing at the top of the conveyor belt, perhaps determined to remain respectful, Stance resumed scribbling on his datapad.

'I'll be waiting for you, Agent Cliffjumper,' he promised. 'Mark my words, this will be in my report!'

Infuriated, Cliffjumper grabbed the nearest datapad and swung it at Stance. It hit the 'bot in the forehead.

'That too!'

Cliffjumper stormed back into the shelter of his office. He let out a roar and kicked over the nearest pile of boxes. Which initiated the domino effect. Which freed the debris, creating a new mess to be picked up. He let out an appropriate groan.

Every day brought more complete injustice on Cybertron Command's behalf. When Ultra Magnus was back in charge, he was going to find an inbox stuffed full of complaints with Cliffjumper's name on them!

Familiar words from an old friend echoed in his head. Calm down, Cliffjumper. Shooting everything won't help.

'It'd sure make me feel better,' Cliffjumper muttered.

He didn't care what said old friend thought. He wanted to destroy something. And he knew exactly what.

Cliffjumper began to pull apart the datapad pile on his desk, each containing a detailed profile on an Autobot somehow involved in the Intel department.

He found the file he sought near the middle. Longarm Prime.

Cliffjumper threw it to the floor and stomped on the face with the enormous red eye on the forehead. He took pleasure in seeing the broken glass covering the traitor's profile, over that evil eye. It had been the only visible connection to his Decepticon roots. He and every Autobot had been too absorbed in their own business to notice. (So obvious!) Cliffjumper glared down at it with as much malice as possible, and one-by-one dropped the pieces down the incinerator shoot.

Some of the bubbling rage left his system, though not entirely. Cliffjumper went to the window and leaned against the frame. He could see every 'bot in the courtyard, but he only had optics for Stance. The Autobot was waking away from the Metroplex. Perhaps he'd decided that he would attempt to ambush Cliffjumper back at his quarters. He might be able to shoot the guy from this distance...

That's probably not a good idea.

Cliffjumper slouched into his chair, glumly examining the disorder. They wanted him to be done by the end of the day? Not possible. It was the best answer they were gonna get. He just needed to get back home, away from this place that reminded him of his own foolishness. Than again, once he was alone, what would he do? Think about Longarm. Everywhere he went he was reminded of that traitor!

His thoughts were shattered with a high-pitched whine. Someone wanted something from him and Cybertron Intelligence. Knowing the nature of most calls of this day, it was probably a waste of his time.

But he needed a distraction.

'Cybertron Intelligence. Cliffjumper speaking.'


Cliffjumper couldn't see Rosanna over the pile of boxes he was holding, and he was very grateful for that.

'Thanks, Cliffjumper!' Rosanna chimed. 'We've been looking for these everywhere! Don't tell me they were in Cybertron Intellgence all this time!'

'Unfortunately, yes,' said Cliffjumper. 'They were causing a big mess, so when records go missing, look for them.'

'Aw, shucks, I kept forgetting,' Rosanna giggled. 'Oh, hey, I just wrote a new song! Wanna hear it?'

'Primus, no.'

'Well...do you want help carrying those?'

'No!'

'Don't get angry! I just want to help.'

'Don't need it. Good night.'

Cliffjumper readjusted the boxes and headed back towards the door. Unfortunately, that also involved navigating through the Hall of Records. Past shelves rising straight up through an atrium, past upper floors filled with more records. (Some records on the main bookcase were so high you needed a lift to reach them.) Then there were the tables, conveniently preventing him from making a straight beeline for the door.

Somehow this made an incredibly accurate metaphor for his life.

He sighed and weaved his way over to the exit.

Truth was, he was just frustrated because he didn't have any other legitimate excuse to keep working. It was time to get home. Cliffjumper ran through his list one more time, while squeezing between a femme who appeared to be arguing with her bodyguard...Never mind, he didn't want to know. Somehow, he found the automatic door and stepped out into the street just beyond, suddenly hit with the general noise of commute.

Cliffjumper took two steps before he ran into someone.

'Watch it!' he yelled.

'Sorry about – oh.'

The voice was immediately recognizable. Cliffjumper peered around the boxes and came face-to-face with the last 'bot he wanted to see. No, not Stance. This was worse. His scanners hadn't even registered Rodimus Prime. Flanking him was part of his crew; the stout, but burly, Brawn and a fervently energetic 'bot whose name escaped him. Apparently, they'd been enjoying themselves until they caught sight of Cliffjumper. They'd been blissfully ignoring the war with the Decepticons and, most unfortunately, there was no sign that Rodimus ever being infected with Cosmic Rust.

There was a painful – or, rather, a very awkward – silence.

'Cliffjumper,' Rodimus greeted him in monotone.

'Rodimus,' he did likewise. 'What are you doing here?'

'I just got out of recovery,' explained Rodimus. 'Iacon isn't exactly open for business, so we're stuck on Cybertron for a while. The Space Bridges aren't going anywhere.'

'But the Decepticons are,' Cliffjumper reminded him.

'It's been stellar cycles since any of us have visited Cybertron.'

'Based on your record, it's been stellar cycles since you've done anything of use.'

'Knock it off!' Brawn cut in. 'You disconnect your voicebox! We're doin' more "useful" stuff than you'll ever do! Slagging secretary, ya can't respect anyone, can ya? I've seen Hot Shot have more than that! All you do is sit in yer cozy little office and pretend nothing's wrong!'

Cliffjumper's optic twitched.

'I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that you still haven't gotten over that little argument,' the young 'bot said.

'Who are you?' asked Cliffjumper.

'...Hot Shot.'

Ah, yes. The one who wouldn't shut up.

'Are we enemies?' squeaked Hot Shot, ducking behind Rodimus.

'What do you think of Decepticons?'

'Hate 'em.'

'We're friends,' he turned back to the others. 'I can hardly say the same thing for you two. As I recall, Cybertron Command ordered all Space Bridge crews to be on high alert and prepared to go out into the field. By not being at your posts, you're breaching protocol. There could be a court martial.'

'You would know,' Rodimus scowled. 'So, are the rumours true? Are you being considered for head of Cybertron Intelligence? Primus help us all, if you are.'

'It's none of your business,' said Cliffjumper. Course they are! And when it's official, I'm gonna kick your sorry exhaust port!

'I hope someone's spreading false information,' Rodimus continued. 'There'll be court martials left and right.'

'And yours will be the first.'

'Hey! Back off!' Hot Shot shouted. Cliffjumper glanced towards the flamethrowers visibly mounted on each forearm. Must be designed to be a pyrotechician. But those could easily be put to other uses.

'I don't need protection, Hot Shot,' Rodimus assured him.

'This guy's walkin' all over you!' exclaimed Hot Shot. 'You said yourself he spends all his time in an office! What's he done that's useful, when our team has fought Decepticons?'

Cliffjumper dropped his supplies and shoved Hot Shot to the ground without thinking. When the 'bot looked up again, he was staring down the barrel of an enormous cannon that Cliffjumper, himself, was surprised he could hold with one hand. The crowd suddenly dispersed, some letting out cries of surprise at the abrupt activity. Otherwise they remained unconcerned. He even caught wind of comments like "he's at it again" and "let's watch."

'You wanna say that again?' Cliffjumper demanded.

'Don't panic, Hot Shot,' said Rodimus.

'Yeah, just don't make any sudden movements,' scoffed Brawn. 'Okay, seriously, quit that!'

Brawn knocked the cannon upwards. It fired. A ball of blue energy went some five hundred meters at a forty-five degree angle. Some Autobots ducked in its wake. It exploded with a muffled bang. Cliffjumper felt the unnaturally heavy sound waves ripple through the air.

Just when he wanted all the attention in the world...

'Why'd you do that?' Cliffjumper shouted.

'Gee, I wonder,' Brawn casually strolled off. 'C'mon, Rodimus, Hot Shot! Let's get before security shows up!'

Cliffjumper growled and shoved his cannon back in its customary place. He bent over to retrieve up his discarded supplies. Control yourself.

Apparently, Hot Shot didn't get the hint, hence was oblivious to his unwanted presence. He helped him gather up the scattered datapads. But soon Cliffjumper had his mind on other things. Since Shockwave (that traitor) had revealed himself, security had been tightened. Where were the guards? They should be here by now, questioning, and taking him into custody...Like the day Shockwave showed his true colours, there was something not right with this picture.

'So...where can I get one of those cannons?' Hot Shot asked.

'What? Oh you can't,' said Cliffjumper, quickly scanning the clearing. 'Hard to come by.'

He vacated the area the moment Hot Shot handed him the last datapad. Hot Shot and Rodimus exchanged a confused look.

Cliffjumper was too worried to notice. Something definitely wasn't right, and Team Rodimus was the least of his worries.


Around him, Autobots whizzed by in their altmodes, paying him no attention, and not caring who he was. Yet. If word got out that he was wanted for questioning by Cybertron Command, panic would take over. And considering what they were about to learn – about the traitor and Ultra Magnus's condition – they were probably going to be willing to believe that anyone was a Decepticon. Their neighbours. Their friends. Their...bosses. But there was an upside to his situation. Cybertron Command would want to keep this quiet, so it was reasonable to assume that they'd handle this without drawing too much attention. This offered Cliffjumper little comfort. He'd already decided that being interrogated was the last thing he wanted or needed.

Satisfied that all was well (for the time being), Cliffjumper stepped onto the hovering platform, along with several of the building's residents. All of them were chatting, their long-winded conversations centered mainly on the events on Earth. He recognized them by their faces, but had never bothered to interact or learn their names. Usually he didn't try. But he did turn upon sensing someone passing near him and a weak, sneering smile crept up his face.

'Quit sneaking around, Mirage,' Cliffjumper said.

'I'm not sneaking around,' the blue and white Autobot suddenly appeared at his side. The wings of the Elite Guard heroically glinted in the frail lighting. But his face, unlike the others, was disconsolate. 'Why would I sneak around? Then again, why would I want to be seen in this sort of company? Okay, so I was sneaking around. Stop looking at me like I did something wrong.'

'I thought you were still on the front lines.'

'I was, until two solar cycles ago. I had to give my report to Sentinel Prime via video conference.'

'How'd that go?'

'Let's just say that I can't wait until Ultra Magnus is out of stasis,' Mirage murmured. He turned away from the others on the platform. 'Everyone's are going crazy, despite appearances. Lots of Autobots are just packing up and leaving central. They think it's the target of a major 'Con attack sometime in the near future...I wonder why they'd leave central? Sure, the real estate is a little expensive, but perhaps if they worked a little harder to get some money...lazy Autobots. At least Decepticons have a little sense.'

'Watch your voice box, or else I'll tear it right out!'

'I thought Autobots were supposed to encourage peace. It's times like this when I think Decepticons would be better company.'

He growled and tried to push aside his annoyance. 'Is it true about central being the center of an attack, then?'

'In light of the uprisings, I'm pretty sure that they're willing to believe anything,' said Mirage. 'Besides, I figured you would be the 'bot to know. You are being considered for head of Intel, aren't you?'

'The council's working to make it official.'

'I'm shocked and appalled!'

'What? Why?'

'That you are being considered for head of Intel.'

'...Are you jealous?'

'I most certainly am not. I...just wish my luck was just as good...I've been helping to secure all of the Space Bridges. Most boring assignment in the galaxy. You won't believe some of the nutcases I have to put up with. Really uncivilized, too. They seem bent on blowing up Decepticons without thinking about the consequences. Luckily with Shockwave –'

Cliffjumper snarled.

'Oh, grow up. Luckily with Shockwave out of the picture I think that the Space Bridges aren't going to be a problem. No one will be able to use them to get in or out.'

Cliffjumper didn't answer.

'Dear Primus, is it still possible?'

'I'm...not allowed to say.'

The platform came to a jerky halt. Cliffjumper would've fallen overboard, if Mirage hadn't materialized to pull him back. As he regained his balance, everyone else on board stepped off.

'Listen, Cliffjumper, I think they're doing some sort of background check on you,' said Mirage the moment the platform moved again.

His circuitry clenched. 'That's expected, if I'm gonna be head of Intel.'

'Not what I meant. You know that neighbour of yours? Oh...what's her name...? Flareup, I think; she has a vile temper, but she's nice enough. Well, anyways, I met Flareup right outside Cybertron Command about a megacycle ago, and she said that a whole bunch of Elite Guard 'bots were poking 'round your place. A bunch of Autotroopers, allegedly.'

Primus, they couldn't leave a 'bot alone. 'When was this?'

'Right after you left for work this morning, from the sounds of it,' Mirage shrugged. 'Is there a new policy or something?'

'Not that I know of,' Cliffjumper muttered. 'So...want to check it out with me?'

'Uh, sure, I have time,' Mirage blinked. 'But don't expect me to go inside. You know how I feel about the state of your quarters.'

Cliffjumper and Mirage jumped off the platform accordingly, the former leading the way at a brisk pace. He just hoped that Flareup had been over-exaggerating about Autotroopers rummaging through his quarters...

The duo turned the corner and stopped.

Cliffjumper knew the location of his quarters well. His were on the corner of the 31st floor. It took him ten minutes to get from the entrance to his front door. His neighbours were noisy. So, it wasn't hard to notice said neighbours standing around on the walkway parallel to the platform's rail. They were staring at his front door, where two Autotroopers were hovering.

They spotted him.

'Here!' Cliffjumper shoved the boxes into Mirage's arms.

'HALT!' shouted the Autotroopers.

He didn't halt. He ran for it.

Cliffjumper burst through the nearby stairwell door, barely missing a trio of innocent Autobots on the other side. The troopers followed. He scurried down the stairs as fast as possible, feeling his armour strain under the pressure of swinging around each tight turn.

He softly counted how many levels he was going down, until he reached number one.

Cliffjumper careened through the final door. Ignoring the ruckus behind and in front of him, Cliffjumper hurtled past the various Autobots journeying through the building's lobby. He dived behind one of the pillars.

The door he'd entered by nearly tore off its hinges as the Autotroopers stormed through. Panting, he pressed his body against the pillar, carefully rounding it to keep his back to them the whole time.

Of course, it wouldn't stay like that. An Autotrooper pointed in his direction. He bolted to the main entrance, managing to push past a few Autobots to get through it. On the street, he transformed and took off.

He knew it was pointless. Government property. There were Autotroopers and Elite Guard 'bots swarming this place, and they weren't about to let him get away. But he could try. He heard their sirens cutting over the chatter of the crowd. As he went on, they faded. Perhaps they'd taken a wrong turn and were now uselessly attempting to locate him. (Which was impossible, seeing as he knew the grounds a little too well.)

Cliffjumper returned to robot mode and took shelter in an alley. Nanoclicks later, a pair of Autroopers whisked by in a blaze of noise and flashing lights.

He exhaled.

An Autotrooper walked into view, swiveling his head and setting his emotionless optics on Cliffjumper.

The chase resumed. Cliffjumper hurtled down the alley as fast as his servos would let him. At the other end – the humanity – Rodimus Prime, Hot Shot, and Brawn were standing just outside. (Waiting for something?)

Cliffjumper shoved through them, knocking over Hot Shot. 'OUTTA MY WAY!'

The Autotrooper followed closely, just missing Cliffjumper's ankle. He pushed through consistent packs of Autobots in his bid for freedom.

'Halt!' the Autotrooper cried.

Cliffjumper sprinted past the next shop. Something caught his ankles. He went down.

Flat on the pavement, he wheeled around, prepared to beat the slag out of the Autotrooper. Except that it wasn't the Autotrooper who had tackled him.

'You're not very bright, you know that, right?' panted Mirage.

Growling, Cliffjumper kicked Mirage in the head and got to his feet. He was barely up when he was slammed to the ground yet again. A sharp, stinging sensation shot up his arm and cuffs were snapped onto his wrists. He was forced to his feet.

'You are under arrest,' announced the Autotrooper.

Cliffjumper clicked. 'What? What for?' He desperately glanced at Mirage, who shrugged.

'Suspect in custody,' the Autotrooper said over his com link. 'Returning to the Metroplex. All units return to your stations.'

The Autotrooper roughly shoved him down the street, back from whence they came. They passed Rodimus and his team. Cliffjumper kept his eyes on Rodimus and, to his surprise, Rodimus actually looked sympathetic. Of course, his sympathy was merged with an expression of shock and disgust.

'What're you looking at?' Cliffjumper snipped as Rodimus continued to stare.

The Autotrooper shoved him and Mirage tailed behind at a safe distance. Cliffjumper saw his own confusion reflected in the eyes of his fellow Autobots at the scene. Still dazed, he lacked all of his usual energy to fight against the guard. He didn't know why he was being arrested. He had the right to refuse to answer questions, though Cybertron Command had their usual, non-violent ways of persuasion. Or was this even about rights? Was this the council's dark idea of a joke? Maybe there were cameras all around, and he was going to be released at any moment.

Cliffjumper quickly dissuaded himself from this idea. He didn't know what to think. All that he was certain of was that he wasn't going back to work tomorrow.