Last time in Strifes Revenge...

"Now we intervene!"

"Heh... you wish" The brown mech grabbed hold of the medic and the saboteur before all three of them vanished into thin air. Bullet ran to grab Strife, but ended up skidding to a halt as he left. Airstrike looked around, the twins helping Firestorm stand back up as he coughed to catch his breath.

"Guys..." Airstrike blinked "...Where's Skartplug and Syndrome?"


To Be Continued...

...Now.


"Syndrome... Syndrome wake up..."

Syndrome groaned, his optics onlining slowly. His first instinct was to draw his blaster, but that was delayed by the fact that he hadn't picked up any weapons before he'd left his quarters earlier. He didn't believe in carrying a weapon for no reason, it seemed stupid. Cannonball always wandered around headquarters with his cannons out, something that's never ceased to annoy him, as well as scare Flash out of his processors.

"Get up your lazy glitch..."

Syndrome shot up, feeling around his neck. The wound had been sealed, a large solder mark still lingering. It would disappear once his self repair systems had finished the job. That problem now out of his mind, the grey saboteur looked around. He was in some type of holding cell. Thick black bars confined him to the area, a single strip light on the outside illuminating the room and casting thick black shadows in the corners. On the other side of the bars stood a brown mech, his two golden optics watching on. His face was half lit, making him look even more venomous.

"It's about time you got up... Now do yourself a favour and help your sad excuse of a friend over there. You're meant to be a programme expert so get on with it. I'll be back in a little while to make sure you're still alive."

Syndrome looked round at one corner of the room as Strife left. Curled up on its side was another grey mech, his intakes taking in air noisily. He sounded like he was in pain... Syndrome gasped, gritting his teeth before crawling over to him.

"Skarts? You ok?"

Skartplug took in a deep breath before he moved, turning over so he could see the saboteur. A puddle of fluid lay on the ground beside him, a trickle of it running down from his mouth.

"I-I'm alright Syndrome..."

Syndrome slid a little closer, examining the medic for damage. Besides a few bumps and scrapes he seemed fine, but an internal scan told him a different tale. Skartplug was riddled with viruses. He was also dangerously low on Energon, but that would be because he had purged not too long ago.

Swallowing hard, the dark medic wiped the energon from his face, coughing as he felt another load trying to escape his tanks. His chestplates felt tight. It was making it difficult to breathe. Covering his mouth, Skartplug fought the urge to purge again, but he was fighting a loosing battle as he turned and eventually allowed it to join the puddle in the corner. Syndrome cringed as he watched. He felt completely helpless...

He knew there wasn't much he could do. He was meant to be able to rid mechs and femmes of all viruses, but small ones which Skartplug had seemed to of picked up weren't particularly harmful, so he'd never bothered creating an anti-virus to tackle them. Sighing, Syndrome rubbed the medics back as he lost the last of his life fluid.

"Just let it out Skarts... I'm ere for you"

"Uh... you're pathetic"

Syndrome looked round hearing a third voice. Two blood red optics sat narrowed in the corner of the room, one of them slightly dimmer than the other. A white slash could be seen barely in the light, slicing through the dimmer optic. There was a noise, then two larger sky blue optics joined them, dimly at first, but growing in brightness as their owner woke up from its recharge. Syndrome blinked. He'd recognise that voice anywhere...

"Napalm? What in Primus name are you doin here?!"

Napalm stood, walking out of the shadows. The two blue optics remained, glazed over in fear. Napalm looked back at them, holding out a hand. A grey hand reached out and took it, the second figure revealing itself.

Clutching Napalms side tightly, Flash looked from Syndrome to Skartplug, his small red doorwings fluttering and twitching in fright. He whimpered, cowering and moving behind his guardian. Napalm cleared his throat before speaking again.

"That glitch suddenly appeared in our quarters and tried to make off with Flash! I grabbed him and we wound up here!"

The medic coughed, leaning back against the wall and wiping his mouth again. It hurt to move, or breathe at that matter. Syndrome laid Skartplug down, opening a panel in his arm to check some vital circuits.

"Could one of you come over here and gimme a hand?"

Both Flash and Napalm looked at each other then back at the programmer "Actually... we can't"

"What?"

Flash took a few steps forwards before he stopped, his right leg being pulled back slightly by something. Syndrome watched as the dark medic's optics shuttered off as he fell into recharge, then he wobbly walked over. Flash moved back a little, hiding behind Napalm again. Napalm just sighed.

"Strife's flippin got us stuck in here..." He moved his leg, showing the thick black shackle around his ankle. Syndrome bent down to inspect it. The bind was linked to a chain, connecting both Flash and Napalm to the wall behind them. Napalms leg was covered in energon, an obvious trait of where he'd tried to either remove the cuff or moved too far away from the wall, resulting in the chain pulling tightly and snapping him back. Flash sat down on the ground, trying to pull the metal off. Syndrome could see it was too tight around the smallers ankle, causing him allot of discomfort. Flash whimpered, his leg shaking as he tried to loosen the bind. It was cutting the energon circulation to his foot off, making the child want to squirm out of its grip. Napalm knelt beside him, calming the younger down before he hurt himself.

"Basterd scared Flash out of his wits before he returned him in here with me. I dunno what he did but the kid hasn't ushered a word"

"What? Not a word?"

"Not one..." Napalm looked back at the young red mech. Flash looked back, his lips tightly shut and his optics glazed over. Syndrome bent down in front of him, his optics narrowing in concern when the youngling backed away slightly.

"Flash?"

Flash just looked up him, not even opening his mouth.

"Flash speak to me..."

The younger shook his head and looked away, shuttering his optics.

"Flash tell me what's wrong... What's Strife done to you?"

Flash looked back, still not saying a word. His lips trembled, a tear escaping his glazed optics. Syndrome watched on as he lifted his arm, his two largest fingers tapping the side of his neck twice. Napalm watched on.

"He did that when I asked the same question but I dunno what he means. He hasn't removed his voicebox... he can still whimper and make other noises... plus there's no marks"

Syndrome had a think. He clicked his fingers, running over to the recharging medic and bending down, before returning with a sharp shard of broken wall. He passed it to the youngling who stared at it blankly. Syndrome smiled a little, tapping the empty space on the floor.

"Write on the ground what you mean... In as little words as possible if you can he'll be back soon..."

Flash nodded, leaning forward and beginning to write. Napalm watched on, trying to read what he was writing. Syndrome stayed patient, waiting for the youngling to finish.

After a few minutes of nothing but silence except from the audio splitting scraping of the chunk of metal reacting against the stone cold floor, Flash finally moved back, allowing Syndrome to whirl round and read what he had written. The scratches were written in bold capital letters, making it easier for the saboteur to read seeing as he didn't have very good handwriting. He hadn't written in sentences, just simple words in blocks of four.

'HE'S INSERTED A CHIP'

'IN TO MY NECK'

'HE SAID DON'T SPEAK'

'OTHERWISE CHIP WILL DETONATE'

'SAID HE COMMANDS ME'

'DO WHAT HE SAYS'

'IF I DON'T CO-OPERATE'

'HE WILL KILL ME'

'HE SAID TO ME'

'DON'T TELL THE OTHERS'

'OR I'LL KILL THEM'

'AND MAKE YOU WATCH'

'BEFORE I KILL YOU'

'VERY SLOWLY AND PAINFULLY'

'I'M SCARED YOU GUYS...'

'I DON'T WANNA DIE...'

"Why that twisted, evil muva fu-" Syndrome covered Napalms mouth before he finished his sentence. Flash looked at them both, fear obvious in his optics. Syndrome bit his lip. There wasn't anything he could do. If the chip was rigged to explode, the slightest movement of it could trigger the detonation sequence, killing Flash instantly. On the other hand, Strife could've been bluffing about it exploding to keep the youngling's mouth shut, but he couldn't take that risk. He knew Strife a lot better than they did, and he knew for a fact that he didn't bluff.

"Well this is precious..."

Flash gasped, scrambling forward to cover the writing. Strife opened the cell and wandered in, taking one look at the sleeping medic on the other side of the room in disgust before towering over the three. Napalm held out his hand for Flash, who took it and gripped tightly.

"And what are you three doing? Well?"

Syndrome stayed silent. He wanted to make a crude comment, but his vocaliser had seemed to stop working. Napalm scowled, but with a shake of the head from the saboteur he stopped before he spoke. Strife looked at each of them before stopping on the youngling, watching as he cowered under his gaze. He stepped closer to Flash, his optics narrowing as he stopped in front of him.

"You. You're coming with me"

Napalm reacted "No he ain't."

"If he knows what's best for him, he'll do as he's told without question..."

Flash whimpered, then nodded as he stood. Syndrome took his place, pretending to fall backwards over the top of the now smudged scribbles. Luckily, Strife didn't see the writing as he bent down and removed the shackle from the child's ankle. Flash gasped, shaking his foot to get some feeling back into it.

"Move you brat..."

The saboteur had to grab Napalm's arm before he tried to stop the brown mech as he shoved the youngling out the door, causing him to trip and land on his hands and knees. The X-executioner had to look away as Strife kicked him, sending the younger sprawling across the floor with a high pitched squeal. Syndrome patted him on the back as he calmed down.

"When I get out of here... I'M GONNA RIP THAT GLITCH LIMB FROM LIMB!" Napalm stood, running towards the bars. He made it a few steps before the chain pulled tight, yanking his foot and causing him to hit the floor face first. Irritated, Napalm pulled against the chain, his leg straining from the tug of war.

"Napalm calm down! You ain't the only one who wants revenge on the bloke you know..."

"I'LL KILL HIM!"

"You won't be able to with one leg!"

The two stopped and looked round as Skartplug shuddered, his optics onlining dimly as he looked around. His tanks groaned as his emergency reserves followed his original flow of energon, causing him to turn around and cough out his load. Both Syndrome and Napalm cringed, looking at one another.

"Guess we're on our own..."

"Yep"

"Got an escape plan?"

"Nope. You?"

"Nope."

Syndrome shrugged "Guess we're screwed then..."

To Be Continued...