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Ironhide sighed a little, looking over his platoon. They'd been at it since dawn, marching, presenting arms, trying to perfect their "presentation". Prowl demanded perfection. He'd always demanded perfection. He had come into power a millennium or two ago, so most of these soldiers, in Ironhide's platoon specifically, didn't remember a time when things were any different.

Half of the city council had been assassinated, and elections could not be held fast enough to replace the staff. He'd been the Head of Police, and the only one able to keep calm long enough to stomp out the riots and lead the city though the time of crisis at the outbreak of the war.

He'd remained in power to get the city back in order... then decided he liked it too much to leave it. He'd reclaimed Praxus from the Decepticons, but instead of freeing the civillians from one dictator, he'd forced them into the regime of another. Possibly even a worse one.

It was Pit-on-Cybertron. Corruption everywhere, especially in the power-holding class.

It was said that His Highness (although that wasn't his official title, that was just what Ironhide called him) had a couple of young females on the side. Courtesans. Ironhide had only ever seen one female leaving or entering the compound, and that had been four different times. He doubted that: he'd known of Prowl before all of this had occurred, and he knew him as a very anti-social mech. But, then, femmes like that were often attracted to mechs in power.

The streets were patrolled by a secret military police force that not only enforced laws, but a curfew. Propoganda posters were plastered wherever convienient, and video loops played from every screen in the city of the Mighty Leader. This was like something out of a bad dystopia novel, except real.

Dystopia novel. Didn't those novels always have a resistence of some kind?

Ironhide clicked his digits and smirked a bit. He knew exactly what could be done about Prowl. But, he needed to find a strong supporting team that he could trust. But who to begin with?

A fellow Trainer, Jazz, strolled by. "'Ey, Ironhide," he greeted. "Great weather, huh?"

"Gorgeous." Perfect. It was as if the universe wanted him to go through with this. "Lis'n up. Ye off t'night?"

"Yeah? Why?"

"We goin' ou'. The Vix'n all righ'?"

"... Sure. Should I bring a friend?"

"Nah. 'M fixin' t' brin' a few oth'rs wi' us. Jus' meet by th' ga'e 'roun' twen'y-one-'undr'd megacy'les."

***
While many places of gathering had been closed down by law, a select few had been selected to remain open, Maccadams' Old Oil House, on the North Side of the Capital, and exactly twenty-one "clubs" (mainly brothels) in the Red Light Quarter being a select few. The Vixen was the worst kind of cabaret, not the kind where the performance is bad, but the kind where nearly every dancer is a prostitute.

Ironhide, Jazz, Ironhide's mate Chromia met up at the gate, looking around. "Is anyone else coming?" Chromia inquired.

"Think so, I tol' a couple oth'rs, but..."

Cliffjumper and Bumblebee: soldiers, Tracks and Hound: trainer apprentices, Dion, Ultra Magnus and Orion Pax: three maintanence workers, and twin females Arcee: a maid and Ariel: a nurse, sauntered over, looking around.

"Hey!" Jazz greeted, waving. "This evr'ybody?"

"Yep. Le's ge' a move on."

The guards at the gates stopped them, looking over the large group. "Hold up. Where d'you think you're all going?"

"We've all got the night off, so we decided to go out together," Dion explained.

"Names and positions?" one guard, a mech called Huffer, droned, taking out a tablet and hitting "record" to get all of the names as they were said.

"Ir'nhide, Train'r."

"Jazz. Trainer."

"Dion, Firing Range Maintanence."

"Orion Pax, Barrack Maintanence."

"Ultra Magnus, Courtyard Maintanence."

"Hound, Trainer's Apprentice."

"Tracks, Trainer's Apprentice."

"Bumblebee, Senior Cadet."

"Cliffjumper, Junior Cadet."

"Chromia, Nurse."

"Ariel, Nurse."

"Arcee, Maid."

Huffer and his companions, Gears and Sentinel, looked over their tablets, checking the group over, and finally nodded. "All right, go on. You will be subject to search for banned material upon return, do you understand?"

"Yea, yea, we go' it," Ironhide snapped, leading the group out.

Huffer waited until the last of them was out of sight before hitting "call" on his tablet.

:You know I'm not to be disturbed at this time.:

"I know, Sir, but I thought you needed to be aware... a large group has just gone out to spend their night off, and I found it a little suspicious."

:I'm well aware of what has just happened at the South Entrance, Huffer. I do not suspect them of anything.:

"Yes, Sir."