Chapter Three
The Process

Cliffjumper was always the dictator when it came to interrogations, furiously tailing his boss around. He'd been the observer with a front-row seat. Though, at first, his opinion hadn't exactly mattered, Longarm began to trust him. He asked him if he believed that the 'bot was hiding something. The accused – or victim – would gaze hopelessly into space. Bore straight into him, beg for the compassion they did not deserve. Meanwhile, here he was. Arrogantly aloof, not taking their emotions into consideration. It was protocol. Under this roof, there were two parties. The guilty and the innocent. The villains and the heroes.

Never had he dreamed of being the villain.

He paced in the narrow cell. Every few nanoclicks, he'd go up to the electric bars and peer towards the doorway. Then to the clock.

They were late.

Cliffjumper circled the cell for the millionth time. He needed to get out of here, though how he was going to do that was something he hadn't quite figured out. Even if he did get out, it wasn't like he could fight his way to safety. They'd relieved him of his weapons, for obvious reasons. Down to the last cherry bomb. His fists weren't going to work against lasers. Now, if he got a shield or something, or took somebody prisoner...But that was out of the question. He wasn't going to resort to the lengths that most Decepticons took.

On queue, the door swung open.

It's about slagging time, Cliffjumper scurried to the bars and peered out. He growled at the sight of Sentinel's face, though the Prime seemed to be expecting this. Behind him, Jazz. And behind him, Stance.

An audience. How quaint.

'...Well?' Sentinel said.

'Well?!' Cliffjumper shouted. 'Well, what?! What did I do?! I didn't do anything wrong! I should be saying "well!"'

'Well, for the moment, we can't allow you to just walk out of here,' Stance said. 'State your name and function.'

'Why?'

'This conversation is being recorded. It's for future reference. Now, state your name and function.'

He opened his mouth, then closed it. I'm not playing this game.

'Name and function.'

Another lull in the conversation. He kept his voice flat, his features empty, though his fists were tight. 'Cliffjumper. Currently an agent for Cybertron Intelligence.'

'Why were you so evasive in the questioning process?' inquired Stance.

'I didn't want to answer. I have rights.'

'Correct, but you never said so.'

'I shouldn't have to.'

'You're working for Cybertron Intelligence,' said Stance. 'You were being considered for head of Intel, as a Prime. Not only that, but you have been in the employ of Cybertron Command for nearly 2000 stellar cycles. By now, you should know the laws, respect, and obey them.'

'Stop talking to me like I'm a fragging protoform! Why am I here in the first place?! Deciding not to cooperate shouldn't get me arrested!'

'You're right, it shouldn't. But that isn't the reason you were brought in.'

Stance shot his hand through the electric bars, showing a datapad. It displayed Blurr's profile. The same Autobot that haunted Cliffjumper's dreams and nicked at his consciousness.

He was caught off guard, Cliffjumper admitted that. Tenderly, he took the datapad and skimmed down the profile.

'You do remember Agent Blurr. Optimus Prime's crew has reported that they last saw him hurtling through the illegal Space Bridge constructed by Megatron. Some of our outposts have stated that they clearly registered Blurr's energy signature over a specific amount of time following these events. Sources suggest he was heading back to Cybertron...A journey that, in these circumstances, shouldn't take too long. We have reason to believe that either you or Shockwave know what happened to him.'

'I...I...I don't know,' Cliffjumper stammered. 'He would've gone straight to the head of Intel.'

'But you were a trusted agent of Cybertron Intelligence, and Blurr knew you worked right under him.'

'Longarm was still in charge.'

'And you, his secretary.'

'I prefer the term "personal assistant."'

Stance leaned in. Even this earnest Autobot couldn't disguise his frustration. 'Do you know where Blurr is? Any information you can provide could prove to be vital. Were there any specific assignments that would've influenced where he went? Any locations he might proceed to?'

'No, that isn't like him,' Cliffjumper shook his head. 'If he was heading back to Cybertron, he would've gone straight to Longarm. No questions asked.'

'So there is nothing you can tell us?'

'About time you figured that out.'

Stance slightly inclined his head towards Sentinel. He backed up a bit, and they exchanged a few words in low whispers. Cliffjumper attempted an expression of complete innocence as he looked towards Jazz. Jazz shook his head.

He let out a low sigh and waited with as much patience as he could muster. It took Sentinel a while before he could ever admit he was wrong, so this was to be expected. But he then began to sense something. An emotion, an idea – notorious inspiration – coming from Stance. He optics widened in his alarm. The possibility of freedom was slipping away, just as quickly as it had built up.

Stance stepped forwards, again.

'Where were we?' he asked.

'Let's see, you were about to let me go,' said Cliffjumper.

'Far from it,' Stance took up his signature position. 'You know where Blurr is.'

'No, I don't.'

'You're lying.'

'I'm...not...LYING!'

Cliffjumper slammed his fist against the wall. The noise set everyone around him on edge, Sentinel's hand actually lowering down to grab his sword. Only Stance remained unmoved. Amazingly, his expression almost smug.

'How about this,' Stance went on. 'According to your history, you were initially manufactured for peacekeeping. 3rd grade stingers, used for defense or construction only. And there are no records in existence that legally acknowledge a medical procedure to remove those stingers. Two days ago, at 1902 hours, you were seen firing an energy cannon. Further sources inform me that energy cannons are not traditionally in Autobot use.'

'I got mine far out of Autobot territory.'

'In Decepticon territory, perhaps?'

Cliffjumper glowered at Stance, instinctively ready to grab a weapon. Only to realize – with a pang – he no longer had any.

'I'm not answering anything else,' said Cliffjumper.

'Never mind. You'll have to, for the trial.'

'Woah, woah, back up! Trial?!'

'Yes, the weapons are evidence enough to bring you to court.'

'WHAT ARE THE CHARGES?!'

Cliffjumper leapt forwards. Jarring electricity swarmed over him as he hit the bars. He twitched violently, fell backwards, and that was the last thing he knew.

He was going to kill Sentinel.

That was his first thought upon reawakening. Next realization was that he couldn't move, and that whatever was holding him down was biting cold. Light shone through the blackness protecting his optics; soft, white, and, in his discomfort, a source of commiseration. The pain momentarily died down. Then Cliffjumper remembered the events that had led up to this point, and it resumed with a burning passion.

...He was really going to kill Sentinel.

Right as he was pondering this, he sensed someone leaning towards his face. He pried his optics wide open.

Mirage screamed and jumped back into the wall. Cliffjumper, despite feeling like scrap metal, managed a sneering excuse for a smile.

'PRIMUS! You scared the slag out of me!' gasped Mirage. 'Thought you were dead, for a minute there.'

'Hmph.'

Mirage laughed nervously. But it faded away, and his expression became serious. 'So, Cliffjumper the criminal. I was mortified when I found out why they'd arrested you. I even attempted to post bail, but they wouldn't let me do that, either. To think I kept company with you all these years...'

Cliffjumper blinked and scrutinized the backdrop for this conversation. Yes, it was the same fragging cell block all right. His sensors re-arranging themselves, he began to feel the anguish of this place. The energy barrier restricting his (and Mirage's) movements was activated. (Not that he could've move at all, because now he visually confirmed the restraints securing him to an upright berth.)

'Cybertron to Cliffjumper!' Mirage snapped his fingers.

'Sorry,' muttered Cliffjumper. He rattled the restraints, testing their strength. 'Are these necessary?'

'Everyone seems to think so.'

He rattled them again, then tried to slip out. '...How'd you get in here, anyways?'

'I had to get special permission from Sentinel Prime. Looked at me funny, but with my witty charm, he decided to let me in. I had to bribe him actually, but don't tell anyone I said that...That's why I took so long.'

'Huh? How long have I been –'

'About four solar cycles,' shrugged Mirage. 'Primus, they really were eager to sedate you after you electrocuted yourself. I mean, what were you thinking?! You know those bars were designed to keep nutcases like you in here! Especially with all those weapons...'

He suddenly remembered handing those over. Cliffjumper glared at Mirage.

'What?'

'You SLAGGING, FRAGGING, KNOCK-OFF PISTON HEAD! You handed be over! WAIT UNTIL I GET OUT OF –' he struggled hopelessly. Mirage backed up, hands raised in defense.

'Calm down, Cliffjumper,' Mirage put his servos on his hips. 'You know why I helped captured you, and we both know that it was for your own good! You would've just made things worse by running away!'

'I WANT MY WEAPONS BACK, TOO!'

'Those were just weapons,' said Mirage. 'Don't look at me like that! You know there was nothing I could've done, despite my social status. Those are central pieces of evidence for the trial. What were you thinking when you got those?!'

'They blew up stuff. Good enough for me.'

He crossed his arms, looking irritated. 'That's not going to work for the judge...Unless I bribe him, which I will not.'

'Primus, I'm really going into court?!...No one's told me anything, not one slagging thing! I can't go to the stockades! If you only read the reports about what happened to Wasp! He lost his mind, all because he was framed for something he didn't do!' He sighed. '...Wait until I get my hands on Sentinel! HE'S DEAD!'

'Not a good idea, considering what you're being charged with.'

'THEN TELL ME WHAT! Stop keeping secrets from me, already!'

Mirage hesitated. It confirmed his suspicions before he said anything.

'It's...bad,' he concluded.

'Frag it all, Mirage! Either you tell me, or leave right now!'

'They put together a pretty big list,' Mirage answered. 'First-degree murder, attempted assassination, high treason, possession of illegal weapons, assault, and resisting arrest. But right now, their main gig is that they think you killed that fast-talking fellow who worked for Intel.'

'I didn't kill Blurr, slaggit!' snapped Cliffjumper. Directly. 'If anyone killed the guy, it was Shockwave. Do I look like a Decepticon to you? Don't believe ANYTHING they say!'

'Quit shouting! Primus! You are and were acting so guilty. I don't blame them for arresting you!'

'Who's side are you on?'

'I'm trying to figure that out.'

He gaped at Mirage, who quickly lowered his gaze.

'You're kidding me,' said Cliffjumper.

'These are serious charges,' continued Mirage. 'I'm...I'm not sure what to think, to be honest. I'm a high-ranking Autobot in the Elite Guard, I'm very rich, and I don't want to get on the wrong side of the law. Not with all that I've worked to achieve. Cliffjumper, you have to understand, I really do want to help you out but...if – if you're guilty and lying –'

'You'll have been friends with a traitor and might be suspected of being involved. You'd loose all of your precious Elite Guard glory. But the thing is...'

Thinking thin, Cliffjumper lifted his left arm out of the restraints. He grabbed Mirage by the throat, easily lifting him a good two feet off the ground. The soldier kicked wildly; his eyes wide and pleading.

'YOU'RE THE FRAGGING TRAITOR!' Cliffjumper shouted.

A gurgle escaped from Mirage, one that vaguely resembled the word "help." But then he slipped through his fingers. Cliffjumper instinctively attempted to re-adjust his grip.

Yet Mirage was already re-materializing on the other side of the barrier, where Jetstorm was skidding to a halt behind him. (Jetfire ran him down half a second later and they ended up in a squabbling heap.) Gasping for air, Mirage lowered himself to a ground, nothing but shock and hurt on his face.

'Want to try that when I'm out of these restraints?!' Cliffjumper dared. 'Come back in here and face me!'

He might as well have been shouting to the wall. The Jettwins - giving each other dirty looks - escorted Mirage away, leaving Cliffjumper to struggle with the rest of the restraints.

He'd been betrayed. Not only by all of the Autobots, but by the one guy he thought would stick by him.