Nature of the Beast

One-Shot Series: Tcsovan Niv A'anoth

Part 3: Shadows in the Light

*I decided on following a Deviant's possible time scale of 15-20 years after Transformers: Prime instead of my previous one for this particular story. Kinda forgot that my "First Star I See Tonight" story does technically allow for that, since Raf is mentioned. They made me want to involve the kids so bad! Personally I'd put a guesstimate at around 25-30 years, because an entire planet doesn't repopulate and reconstruct itself in short time scales even if you involve cyber matter. Takes time is my point.

Counterforce, by virtue of his busy work life, was an early riser. The very instant sunlight began streaming into his living area his optics flickered open behind his visor. For a brief fraction of an astrosecond he wondered why his hand was dangling over the side of his chair and clasping the slender digits of a pitch black Seeker femme. Then his processor whirred back to life, and he remembered the grisly yet odd events of last night that had led to his current bizarre situation. Much as he didn't want to disturb Sentenza he simply couldn't let her stay in power down for the whole morning, at the same time his limited medical knowledge told him she needed to recover from whatever had happened the previous night.

Last night...

His processor wandered back to that time seemingly of its own accord. As well as he had concealed it, the whole thing – the strange optic switching, the Energon coating her entire frame, and her fear of being left alone and in the dark – had left him both immensely curious and deeply rattled. He wanted answers about that badly, but he understood the presently slumbering Seeker might not be forthcoming with information. Rattled as he may have been at the time, she had seemed even more so. She had devolved from the seductive, intelligent, impatient femme that he had met that morning and afternoon into a sparkling frightened of her own shadow on the walls. And yet...the way she had acted – a certain grim, forced calm deep in her optics – indicated this mayn't have been the first time such an..."episode" had happened. She had known how to cope with it.

His mind continued to pick at little pieces of data as he recalled them. The desperation for a powerful light source had puzzled him at first, though after seeing it effectively fix whatever was going on with her optics he knew there was something important there. That "incentive" she had mentioned just before leaving his office – might that be related to her craving of light sources? Was her incentive getting someplace safe, bathed in light, before the biggest light source of them all – Cybertron's host star – set for the day? But if that was indeed the case here, what exactly had happened out there in the dark?

He shook his helm in bewilderment. Whatever was happening with this femme, solar light was a blatant remedy to it. Interesting in itself.

'Her...she mentioned a her. She said "Can't...can't fight her..." Who's "her?" There was no one else here,' Counterforce wondered to himself.

He mulled over this mystery until the Seeker at his side stirred weakly.

She for one had enjoyed the dreamless oblivion of deep recharge. It had been a welcome relief from the nightmare she had anticipated. But now, with comforting sunlight hitting her frame and her chronometer forcing her processor back into its active state against her will, she knew there was no hiding in that darkness anymore. She had to come out into the light much as she profusely didn't want to. Thus, the Seeker stirred and un-shuttered her Predacon yellow optics. She blinked back a brilliant glare, at first thinking it was Cybertron's host star at a very annoying ascension angle. Only after checking her orientation did she realize it wasn't a star but its light reflecting off a dulled golden and silver target. When her optics calibrated at last her processor locked up in unison with her frame at what – or more accurately who – sat at her side, gazing at her with the most patient expression she had seen of anyone with a visor.

"Detective? Are you alright?" Counterforce inquired softly.

She felt him release her hand. It was all she could do to resist the urge to reach out and snatch it back. As it was, she simply sighed and hung her helm. Her wings, before now held in a semi-relaxed position, drooped. Despite the visor hiding his optics from her, she knew what it was he wanted from her. He was an eyewitness to last night's aftershock, and in the end he probably deserved to know. She didn't quite know why...but she trusted him now. The fear of telling him that had been so strong the other day was like a distant memory.

"Sentenza? What aren't you telling me?" His tone was slightly firmer.

Again she sighed as she massaged her aching temples, "Take it easy will you? Rough night."

He looked at her. She felt as if the visor was piercing through her, examining her on a level far deeper than she thought possible for a mortal mech. Judged – that's what it felt like to her. The Seeker felt as if her very soul was being put on trial and examined. And yet she was not afraid. Counterforce's hidden gaze served to put her at ease.

"I'm not going to demand an answer. You can tell me on your own time. If you don't want to discuss it right now...I understand."

A third sigh, soft like a warm breeze and accepting, escaped her vocalizer. She debated how best to start this dark tale off and thus began, "What do you know of the Tcsovan niv a'anoth?"

She could almost see his hidden optics widen by a fraction behind the visor. Glyphs for surprise, confusion, and intrigue danced around in his field before fading. Clearly her tactic of bluntness had succeeded in getting his attention.

"The mysterious vigilante of Kaon who hunts Decepticon criminals? I – well, not very much. No one does. Frankly if it weren't for the corpses that kept showing up in Kaon and the testimony of the rare survivor, I would've labeled the Nightdemon an urban legend and left it at that. There is literally no physical evidence on file for her despite the killer being active for nearly a quarter of a vorn by this point. All information on the Demon is by word of mouth, and even that is incredibly limited and not exactly reliable," He paused. "Why?"

Sentenza's helm hung even further, her wings reaching their lowest possible point. Then her helm rose up and her yellow optics locked with his visor. Her voice when she spoke was soft and yet hoarse, temporarily rendering it unrecognizable to the Praxian at her side.

"Because I'm her. I'm the Nightdemon of Kaon."

For upwards of a breem he sat there digesting the fantastic claim. It seemed utterly incredible. He couldn't believe – didn't want to believe it, but the logical part of his processor admitted that certain things did add up when taken together with her proclamation. Sensational as it sounded, a few points of conflict and confusion were now clear.

First and foremost was the total lack of evidence at the sites of Demon killings and attacks. Normally criminals left something at the scene, something that was often so small that they never even thought about it. At a Demon crime scene, there was only ever a body and spilled Energon. While Kaonians were inclined to believe her a supernatural force – a vengeful spirit for instance – he understood now that it was due to her extensive forensics training. The Demon wasn't a spirit, rather an intelligent, fully physical femme whose knowledge of crime investigation rendered her more than capable of covering her own tracks. The second point of confusion was the plain fact that no one had ever seen the vigilante, not even the rare half-dozen survivors. That in itself was what had led to the widespread belief the Demon was a supernatural entity. But in reality it was nothing quite so dramatic. Sentenza's cloaking talent was the real reason no one, living or dead, had seen her. That also directly explained some of the odd splatter patterns at kill sites – a good number of reports had said that spurting Energon had been blocked by an obstacle, though that obstacle had never been found. And the energy trail normally left on such a target? That had been tampered with so it was both contaminated and too faint to follow – yet more evidence pointing to the Demon's knowledge of forensics.

But even with those questions answered, it still left one to which there seemed to be none.

"Why?" Counterforce wondered. "You're an officer of the law. You should know not to take the law into your own hands."

He watched the Seeker's helm drop again. The shame and self-loathing in her optics was too clear to miss.

"Because I-I have no real choice. She – the Nightdemon – is me without the restraints. I can't always fight the impulse off on my own. That's why I needed you to use your light talent to weaken it. The other me's weakened by exposure to solar photons. She was just too strong for me to fight last night. I would've used my ion lamp that I brought with me, but at that point into the takeover I think you know I was in no state to be using it. If you hadn't done that, used your power...I think there was a real risk the other me would've tried to kill you. She doesn't like eyewitnesses."

At that Counterforce blinked. It wasn't her knowing of his never-before-documented ability. Anyone who had heard of him knew of it. Instead, his internal surprise stemmed from the unusual fact that this...whatever it was had a rather strange weakness and a seeming sentience of its own. That amounted to only one type of malware – a dissosciative personality one. While rare, such corrupted personality coding did happen (though why was a subject of intense debate in the psychological community) and resulted in a splitting of one's psyche. In the grand scheme the other personality wasn't typically harmful and posed no outward risk, but Sentenza's was downright dangerous going by the number of kills it had made and the attitude it possessed.

He felt the conversation go full circle.

"And last night? What happened?" he pressed gently.

Reluctantly, her voice shaky, Sentenza explained. She first told of her stop by Macadam's and her conversation with the bar tender Half-Pint. She held nothing back, repeating every word.

"Yeah. The missing officers of the fifth. Figures Thunderhoof was involved with that. We had suspicions, but no leads. Go on."

Sentenza continued on. She recounted her arrival at a nearby warehouse where the officers had reportedly vanished. Her investigation had revealed that one or possibly multiple targets had been killed within the building, but she had been unable to locate any bodies. The faint energy trail had stopped just outside a loading bay where she assumed the bodies had been loaded and transported off site for disposal. Dissatisfied, she had refused to quit even as the Cybertron's star sank lower and lower in the skies. And so she had taken up a vigil in the warehouse to see if any more information might be gleaned.

"Go on," It was all he could do not to shiver. Knowing what he knew of the Nightdemon, her motives, and actions, he didn't like where this was going.

"I...I found out why the cops were snooping. After it got real dark, a couple of Thallium dealers showed up. They used the warehouse, which is owned by one of Thunderhoof's goons, as an easy way to transport their goods around. I never got my hands on the owner, but the dealers," she shuddered. "You saw what I looked like the other night. I take it you've read a few case files, so you know what the Nightdemon does to criminals. Take a guess as to what happened."

"...You killed them."

"Yes," Just the monosyllable, but there was a wealth of self-loathing and hatred in it.

The Seeker femme was unable to meet his expressionless visor. Her optics and wings dropped away from him in tandem, her hands wringing. He had every right to pull out a pair of cuffs and arrest her right here, right now. She was a vigilante who killed, and had killed four mechs just the other night and dozens of others in the past. So she was surprised when she felt a hand laid on her cold arm – a hand that felt like warm sunbeams, just like she had felt last night. Sentenza thus looked up, coolant tears preparing to fall, and was surprised at what she saw gazing back at her.

Counterforce's optics. The visor was gone now, revealing a hypnotically beautiful case of heterochromia. One optic was burning gold like the sun at its zenith while the other shimmered pale silver like soft moonlight. Contrasting though they were, each held not condemnation but sympathy and understanding. She didn't struggle as he pulled her closer, and she didn't try to stop her tears from flowing. He simply held her in his warm embrace, wiping some of the tears away silently as she let her shame and hatred of herself out.

She managed to stammer out: "Y-You're not arresting me? You're not upset? Angry?"

"No, no," he shushed her. "You need help, not jail time. As far I'm concerned, you and the Nightdemon are two entirely separate entities. Sentenza wasn't the one to end those dealers last night. That was the Demon's doing, not yours. I have no cause to arrest you. You're not the Demon. You were trying to help a friend by solving a local case. You solved it, but Fate is a fickle mistress and obviously decided to give you a bad hand. That's not your fault."

She managed a short, harsh laugh. Fate had been giving her bad hands ever since the malware code had surfaced. Fate so he called it had ruined her entire life. She would never be able to enjoy a night on the town or an evening get together with friends. Frankly, friends were an indulgence she would never have. But the most damning of bad hands was that she had lost the privilege of being able to trust herself thanks to Her. She was alone – forced into isolation to protect herself and those around her from the darkness that lived within her.

She was a murderer. She deserved no friends. She deserved to be alone.

"Wrong. You have a friend."

She looked at him for a klik before snorting derisively, "If only..." She then pulled herself away, but Counterforce gently grabbed her arm thus forcing her to look at him.

"You have a friend," repeated the Praxian more firmly, "and you're looking at him right now."

They arrived at the fifteenth precinct within a quarter of a joor. On heading to the commissioner's officer, they found Aegis patiently skimming through data pads apparently waiting for them. The mech was mumbling softly to himself as he read aloud the information, though the words were barely comprehensible. One sentence, however, was clear as a gunshot on a still night:

"T-This doesn't make any sense..."

Sentenza found herself intrigued. A quick glance at their backs and a sneaky wireless hack showed they revolved around a case of four Thallium dealers found dead earlier that morning. No evidence at the scene other than Energon splatter that matched some Nightdemon killings in Kaon. No eyewitnesses either. But the owner of the warehouse where they were found was now under intense scrutiny. It looked like the fifteenth precinct was the one that would be investigating her murder. She didn't know whether to feel sorry or glad about that.

The mech looked up on hearing their entrance and nodded to Counterforce. His optics widened a little on noting the detective, one brow ridge rising curiously. She looked haggard, exhausted – like she had flown a marathon.

"You alright, Sentenza?"

"Yeah," she said as she massaged her temples. "I just...I had a rough night. You got any diluted Red around here?"

"Break room's down the hall and to the left. Grab something and come back. The techs over in Crystal City should have their groundbridge network up and running by now. So we're ready to go whenever you are."

She nodded and left the two mechs, returning in a short while with a small cube of fuel that glowed pale red. Red Energon, while normally a means of temporarily replicating a speed-gifted's blessing, could be diluted and certain chemicals added to make it a powerful stimulant – perfect for waking up a tired processor or frame. Or in this particular case an emotionally and physically exhausted detective in desperate need of a systems-wide wake-up call.

The two mechs she found to to be waiting for her outside the office, and on spotting her they motioned for her to follow. They led her down a few corridors until all three arrived in a medium-sized hexagonal chamber where a lone operator stood at the ready. On spotting the arrivals, he saluted to Aegis with a crisp "Sir!" and then turned to the groundbridge hub before him. He typed in the coordinates in a flash before yanking down on a lever to his right.

"You'd better get going. I got a call from their groundbridge tech just before you got here, sir. Something's happened. Didn't say what though."

Aegis frowned grimly as he quickly vanished inside the waiting wormhole. Sentenza and Counterforce shared a worried glance. Then they followed him through.

The three investigators were accosted the moment they stepped out of the groundbridge. A young mech rather resembling a jittery needle with jet wings rushed over to them in a flash as the portal behind them closed. The way his armor was held tight along with the slight trembling of his hands showed him to be in a state of nervous excitement. Judging by the message he had given the Praxus tech, that couldn't mean anything good. He introduced himself shakily as Fuse, the groundbridge technician for Crystal City's precinct, and would they please come with him? Chief Carbine wanted a word with them. The precinct was in a state of turmoil at the moment as they tried to keep the issue at hand on the down low.

"What for?" Aegis demanded, an inkling of horrible suspicion growing in his spark. "What's with all the secrecy, kid?"

Fuse refused to make optic contact then. He only answered that that was for Carbine to tell them, not him. He just manned the precinct's groundbridge...though that hadn't stopped him from overhearing the officers whisper amongst themselves this morning. He knew what was going on, he knew what Carbine wanted to talk to them about – and it wasn't good news from all he'd gathered. But again, it wasn't his place to tell. He was just to bring them to him.

Aegis's grim frown made a vengeful return. He had a pretty good idea now of what Carbine had to tell them.

The young technician left them when they reached the office in question. Inside, Carbine waited for them, pacing to and fro with a deep frown on his face and mumbling some rather colorful curses. He paused in his tracks and looked up sharply on noting their arrival.

"It's about slagging time, Aegis!" growled Carbine.

Counterforce took note of the aggression and made the astute guess, "Another killing, sir?"

Carbine's anger simmered down at the sight of golden and silver Praxian. He'd heard good things about him, and Aegis had readily vouched for his remarkable skills the previous solar cycle. And he had heard of his many successes with serial cases. The Seeker at his side though? He got a bad sense from her despite her formal bearing. Some deeply coded instinct was telling him to watch himself around her. Setting aside that feeling with an effort, he grunted confirmation and clarified:

"Found just before dawn by some reckless young punk and his friends racin' around for kicks. Too much high grade I'd wager. No clues so far, and the body's yet to be identified. Early as yet though. Scene's still being combed if you want a look at it. Medical examiner's there. I have to stay here and be ready for the storm of reporters that I just know'll show up at any klik. Just please, I'm beggin' you – stop these murders before any more innocent 'bots die."

"We will. We have a secret weapon, remember?" Aegis reassured, motioning with his helm towards Sentenza.

Sentenza's Predacon yellow optics flashed. "This scraplet won't take another life. You have my word."

The crime scene was clear across town just inside an abandoned tunnel entrance. Officers had cordoned it off to keep evidence from being tampered with, and probably to keep nosy passerby or reporters from getting too close. A single Draconian Predacon snuffed around the tunnel, snout to the ground as it tried to pick up a scent. But judging from the whining hisses, it wasn't having much luck. Sentenza, Counterforce, and Aegis were let inside wordlessly by a patrolmech – looking quite relieved to see them – who jerked his helm towards the tunnel.

"In there."

They slipped past the frustrated Draconian and into the semi-darkened tunnel. Deeper within, officers canvased the area for evidence of any kind. But closer at hand, a trio of investigators were gathered around the body of a small, stocky femme who looked rather the worse for wear and was missing an optic. Another 'bot, a towering silver and white mech with red triage markings on his arms hovered around the terminated frame, inspecting it and taking notes on a data pad.

"I take it you're the ME?" Aegis guessed.

The silver mech looked up sharply, "Ah! Yes, I'm the ME. Name's Mourncall. You're Commander Aegis and Counterforce of Praxus's fifteenth precinct and detective Sentenza of Kaon, correct?"

"That we are," Counterforce replied, "Got anything for us about this poor spark? Other than the fact she was obviously involved in manual labor of some sort?"

Mourncall shook his helm. Other than that, the missing optic and a few other parts, and the clear evidence of her being killed in the generally quick but messy manner of the Mad Doctor – a main line slashing – they had yet to find anything. There wasn't even an energy trail to follow. And they still hadn't a clue who the poor femme was. To find anything more about her he'd have to take her back to his lab and do a detailed analysis. He did suspect however that she had been drugged like the others before her. The killer was very persistent about his methods, rarely varying in that aspect.

"Any eyewitnesses?" Sentenza demanded.

"None. We tried asking the buzzed racer and his friends at the precinct but they said they swore they saw nothing out of the ordinary. One of 'em saw the body and had another call the precinct. Carbine doesn't know whether or not to believe them on the first part. He thinks one or more of them did see something seeing how they're so adamant that they didn't see anything. Hopefully you will have better luck at getting them to talk."

"I suppose we're free to look around?"

Mourncall assured them they could, though he advised them to be careful. The scene was still being canvased.

Aegis saw the two younger 'bots share looks and then split up. Counterforce stayed near the body, his unusual optics darting around rapidly in search of trace evidence. Sentenza went deeper into the tunnel until her dark frame melded with the shadows. Only her red accents, which now shone faintly, let him know she hadn't gone into the tunnel proper. As strategic as the splitting was he got the oddest inkling that there was something going on between them, especially when the femme would look over in the other mech's direction every so often.

He came to a decision, "You two help out here. I'll head back to the precinct and see if I can get our finders to tell anything more."

"Oh! They're not at the precinct," Mourncall corrected. "We sent 'em on home. Couldn't hold them all morning, you know. We do have their contact details though. Ask Carbine for them."

The Commander nodded acknowledgment to the ME and strode swiftly back into the mid-morning sunlight. He had the sense Sentenza would work better anyways if she felt she wasn't being supervised.

Counterforce had to admit to himself that he wasn't hopeful of finding who did this. His methodical searching of the area around the body revealed almost nothing of use. The most substantial thing he had discovered was something that was already marked by the Crystal City officers: a few tiny drops of Energon in an easily recognizable single-drop pattern. Since there was no other source of Energon at the scene, that indicated the body might have been dropped. But why then the lack of other stains? If it had been carried the stains would not have been circular but more elongated and oval-like in shape, revealing the body's motion. Yet it seemed like the dead worker had blinked into existence as though by magic.

"Mourncall? Any idea when she was killed?"

"Judging by the temperature of the Energon inside her, I'd guess she met her end sometime in the pre-dawn hours. Can't give particulars until I get her to the lab. Will say this is the most recent we've gotten to a scene. Lucky for us the eyewitnesses were racers, huh?"

The mech rose from his crouch, brow ridges furrowed. Something wasn't adding up here. A body just couldn't pop into existence from nowhere, and something told him the corpse at his pedes wasn't a natural teleporter. Grounders were rarely teleporters. There was a solid, logical reason for this oddity. He was drawing a blank as to what though. This didn't quite match the evidence at other crime scenes. Oh, it was the same person alright – he knew that. But the method of deposition had changed slightly. The one here...it seemed rushed.

"Sentenza?" he called. "Anything on your end?"

"Don't know whether you or the other guys checked this or not in your area, but I'm getting very faint traces of energy over here – not from Energon, either. It's a lot more concentrated despite it dispersing."

One of the Crystal City officer's helms snapped up: "Rather like the residual vortex energy of a groundbridge, perhaps?"

Sentenza emerged from the shadows smiling. Wain though the smile was, Counterforce's spark skipped a pulse. And it seemed the other officers weren't immune to her grim beauty either.

"That's what I was about to say."

"Hm. That's interesting," Counterforce hemmed darkly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but every other time a body's been found, it's been found in a manner like this, right? Next to no evidence (other than traces of spilled Energon that led nowhere) and always found in or very near a tunnel to the underground?"

All present nodded.

"This here – the droplets you found?" He pointed. "They're single-drop. The other patterns at the other scenes were not single-drop but motion-drop. I think we can all agree that the killer's been using a groundbridge to transport his victims away from the kill site or maybe even some kind of teleporting device. That explains the lack of spilled fluid and why Predacon trackers have had no luck. There's nothing for them to trace because the trail ends."

The officers murmured agreement.

"Makes sense," Mourncall said. "Groundbridges are always two-way. Predacons track by following the unique mineral and chemical imprint in a target's Energon; also means it's a little harder for them to track blind because their olfactory sensors have no sample on record. At least, that's how it goes when tracking 'Bots. Tracking targets like odd smell they can do fine without a sample on record. When the vortex shut off, the scent trail was interrupted."

"But the residual energy from the vortex? You've never detected that at a scene before?" Sentenza demanded, one slender brow ridge rising curiously.

Mourncall shook his helm. "No. Like I said, this is the earliest we've gotten to a scene. I may be just the ME, but I am from Crystal City. Groundbridges were practically invented here in the Golden Age, and anyone here with a background in the sciences is required to understand the basics about them. I know that the energy from a groundbridge doesn't linger for very long – I think it takes about joor or so to dissipate entirely. Fuse could give you the exact number."

"We never picked up this energy because we got to the scenes after that time limit had gone by," an officer close by added. "All the bodies before now were located in very hard to find places with very low chances of being spotted – a lot of them were in abandoned or closed off sections of tunnels that date back to the War. This one isn't, which is why we got here so fast and why the energy's still there."

Counterforce and Sentenza nodded. The killer had either made a mistake when directing the groundbridge portal, or perhaps this was a sort of grotesque present for Crystal City's precinct – a grim taunt over their lack of success. Whatever the reason, they probably weren't going to get anything else from the scene. A glance at Mourncall revealed he thought the same: that the rest of the information lay with the body.

It was time to return to the precinct's lab.

Sentenza and Counterforce waited off the side while Mourncall worked. If it weren't for his constantly saying what he was doing and finding, the silence would have been unbearable. Even then, neither of the two observers really paid much mind as to what he was doing or saying. The Seeker herself rather expected the mech to avert his gaze as the ME carefully opened the body up to examine its inner workings, but she was marginally surprised to note a steeliness in his strange optics. Going by his career of homicide investigation, she figured this was something he was used to seeing by this point – an unpleasant necessity of the job. He didn't like it, but homicide always entailed death and bodies.

'Hmph. If he doesn't like death, why's he so intent on helping me – protecting me? I've got about as many bodies to my name as he's got solved cases.'

She happened to glance at him out of the corner of her optic and saw he was doing the same. The mech shook his falcon-styled helm at her imperceptibly, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. His field broadened to briefly mingle with hers. ~argument~ She was different; a special case. ~contradiction~ This poor femme had been killed pre-meditatively, whereas the Demon slew anyone She happened across guilty of illegal activity.

Sentenza emitted a barely audible hiss as she forced her glance away. That was where he was wrong. She'd killed pre-meditatively before now. He need only look up the case files concerning some of Thunderhoof's higher ups. It was unfortunate, but both sides of her agreed it was the only way to get the crime boss's attention. A ping on her private frequency nearly made her jump. As it was, she managed a sideways glance at him.

*Detective, you don't have to let the Nightdemon define who you are – or rule every aspect of your life. She has no power during the day. As of right now, you're free of her. And if she gives you trouble while we're working here in Crystal City, I'll help in any way I can. If that means doing what I did last night, fine. So long as something works, use it.*

Some of the internal loathing died down. She managed a slight nod, thanking him again for his actions the other night. The two then refocused on Mourncall, who seemed to be wrapping up his analysis. His expression was grim though not in the least horrified or surprised. He noticed the looks they were giving and spoke up:

"No question now. Definitely killed by our Mad Doctor. Main line's been slashed with a very sharp, very thin blade – my guess a surgical instrument. Some of her bio-mechanisms are missing, too. I won't go into specifics over which ones were taken. They seem to be taken at random each time. What I find interesting is the evolution of style in the removal process itself. It started out quite amateurish, yet now its professional quality. If we weren't dealing with a killer, I'd actually go to this mech or femme for a surgical procedure. And my suspicion was correct: just like the others, this unfortunate femme was drugged with powerful anesthetic chemicals."

"That's what I don't really understand," said Sentenza. "Your Mad Doctor, whoever he or she may be, is ruthless enough to kill but merciful enough to put his victims under before he deals the killing blow."

Counterforce nodded, frowning. Those two pieces of evidence heavily contradicted themselves. He voiced his own opinion after a klik of silence, "If you ask me, I think we should be trying to figure out what's being done with the missing parts. They're clearly being taken on purpose for some reason. I know it's a bit of a taboo subject...but illegal cyber-grafting and the bio-mech black market are two unfortunate but very real problems. Might be a long shot, but maybe our killer is one of the suppliers for the market? Rather odd that he kills in that case; most suppliers just remove the part and let the donor, willing or unwilling, go. My question is: why kill? The mechs and femmes taken aren't exactly talkative when it comes to the police anyway. Almost all of them are lower class workers like our poor victim on the table."

"Sadism?" Sentenza hazarded.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I think we need to head to the Academy and have a word with our suspect. Mourncall, give us a holler over our comm's once you found out who she is, will you?"

The ME assured Counterforce that he would do so. "Just be careful," he added. "Don't let him know he's a suspect. If he does, he might run – or worse, hurt someone."

Sentenza's Predacon yellow optics flicked in his direction, flashing. The Crystal City mech was alarmed at the aggressive anger in them, and faintly disturbed to see them darken to an orange color.

"If Vertebreak's our killer, Mourncall, he's already hurt and killed a lot of innocent 'bots."

She stalked out of the room, her Praxian partner close at her heel struts.

Author's Note: Bit of a shorter chapter than last time, but I think it's best to end it here.

*Note 1: I know in the canon series Vertebreak's just a 'Con surgeon who's obviously on the insane side and broken the law more than once. But I don't think being put on the Alchemor just for stealing parts is quite...feasible. The Alchemor is supposed to hold "some of the most dangerous Decepticon criminal on record." In that regard, how is Vertebreak dangerous other than being insane and smart? Sure, his actions were illegal, but he's nowhere near the level of bad of Steeljaw, Thunderhoof, or Underbite.

I decided to fill in the blanks with my personal head-canon.