"I'm going to give that femme a piece of my processor," Stormrunner muttered just loudly enough for Blitzwing to hear her over the commotion. "Primus knows I like the kid, but I'm going to tell her off for suggesting this and then bailing on us."

"Hey, is it her fault she's got other duties on top of being a parent?" Blitzwing demanded. "Not like she chose an officer position or anything."

"And the rest of us don't have other duties?" Stormrunner shot back. "Though I suppose you're right. And frankly, with everything going on right now, it's a wonder she has the processing power to even come up with this idea." She rolled her optics. "I'm still going to have her wings for this, though."

Blitzwing thought to come to Glory's defense at that, but decided against it as the awful crash of a chair impacting over Onslaught's head rang through the room. He had to admit, this wasn't one of his conjux's best ideas.

The day after the self-proclaimed Knights of Cybertron had broadcast their threat, Glory had contacted every Decepticon with a sparkling in their care and requested a meeting. With a resurgence in violence on Cybertron, she argued, it was only a matter of time before more mechs were terminated, and she wanted to avoid another tragedy like Stardust's if at all possible. If everyone could come together and form some kind of plan to provide for and protect the young ones, then perhaps another incident could be averted.

In theory, Blitzwing supposed, it was a nice idea. But in practice… well, not every Decepticon who had adopted a war orphan was a stable mechanism, and it hadn't taken long at all for arguments and fights to break out. There were a few mechs present who had legitimately received new sparks from Vector Sigma after the war, and they mostly hung back, gaping in shock as Motormaster and Onslaught's argument escalated to trading blows.

At least the kids aren't here to witness this, he thought, ducking to the side as a chair leg went flying past. Though I'd argue that lettin' Soundwave's cassettes babysit 'em ain't much better. Hope Swift is okay, some of those other kids are hellions…

"Temper, temper," Onslaught chided, seeming utterly unfazed at the fact that Motormaster had just shattered a chair over his helm. "Did it occur to you that this isn't the best place to let your anger issues show? What if someone decided you were an incompetent parent and took Ricochet from your team?"

"You callin' me incompetent?" Motormaster snarled. "We're a lot better parents than YOU! How much of a drill sergeant are ya with Hornet an' Firebolt anyhow?"

"Firebolt is Swindle's responsibility, not mine," Onslaught retorted. "And Hornet does just fine, thank you very much."

"Don't listen to him," Swindle cut in with a cheeky grin. "Firebolt might be mine, but he spoils both of 'em."

Onslaught shot his teammate a glower. "I maintain discipline. You're the one who does the spoiling, if I recall correctly."

"And they love me for it," Swindle replied, his grin never fading. "Whereas you're the grumpy parent. 'Sokay, though, they still love ya-"

"QUIET."

That single word wasn't shouted, not exactly… but it resonated in the CPU of every mech and femme in the conference room nonetheless. The bickering subsided, and more than one set of optics turned to regard Soundwave with both annoyance and nervousness. The tape deck simply gazed coolly at the gathered Decepticons and nodded at Stormrunner, indicating the black Seeker could continue.

"Thank you, Soundwave," she told him, nodding back. "This has gone on long enough. I didn't bring you here so you could argue over who's the better parent – we're here to discuss what to do about this recent crisis. And the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all get back to what we need and want to do."

"Well said," Hook muttered.

"I don't see why we gotta be here," Motormaster grumbled. "Nothin's gonna off the Stunts. We're too good of fighters for that. Ricky's gonna be just fine."

"We can't guarantee that," Stormrunner countered. "I consider myself a fine flyer and warrior, and my own bondmate is one of our best aquatic warriors-"

"That's not saying much, given the competition," Dragstrip muttered, then yelped and ducked as Motormaster took a swing at his head.

"-but we've taken precautions just in case," she went on, doing her best to ignore the Stunticons' antics. "We've arranged a caretaker for Valiant should something happen to both of us, and I strongly suggest each of you do the same."

Hook snorted. "I don't trust Lancer with any of the idiots on my team, let alone any other Decepticon. And don't even THINK I'm going to let him fall into Autobot hands should something unthinkable happen."

"Frag no," Blitzwing agreed, scowling. "We already fought hard to get 'em out of Autobot clutches once. We ain't gonna let it happen again."

"That solves what won't happen," Stormrunner conceded, "but doesn't come up with an actual solution. Please, everyone, we have to take this seriously!"

"Shockwave could always restart his academy," Swindle suggested. "That was our backup during the war."

"Right, because we really WANT to go back to the days of training and upgrading our sparklings into cheap cannon fodder," one of the other parents retorted. Blitzwing recognized the mech as Torque, a navy-blue armored vehicle who had received a spark directly from Vector Sigma rather than adopting one of Shockwave's academy sparklings. "Not to mention that Shockwave doesn't have time for such an establishment now, what with his other duties."

"There's one way Shockwave and the Air Commander could still help us," said Torque's conjux, a green-and-tan jetformer named Switchback. "Ensure that only one of a set of parents is on active duty at any given time. That way if anything happens to them, the other is still alive to maintain guardianship. It's not a perfect system, but it will help."

Stormrunner nodded gratefully at the two. "Thank you. At least someone here has a useful suggestion or two-"

"You're still acting like we're all doomed just because a few lunatics made a public threat!" Hook cut in. "Don't you think this is all a gross overreaction?"

"If you think we're overreacting, then get out," Blitzwing suggested, glaring at the Constructicon. "I'm sure your team'll be just fine, right? It's not like nobody's ever taken down a combiner before – oh wait, hasn't Devastator gotten his aft kicked tons of times by now?"

Hook planted his hands on the table and stood, glowering at the triple-changer. "Do you want to say that to Devastator's face?"

"I thought I was," Blitzwing retorted. "Unless you an' Long Haul switched places in the configuration at some point an' didn't tell anyone? Guess that makes you the aft now."

Hook made to lunge across the table, barely held back by Swindle and Onslaught. Blitzwing smirked as the surgeon cursed him out with enough virulence to make an Insecticon clone shrivel up on the spot. Not even Stormrunner's elbow in his side seam could dampen his triumph at provoking a reaction out of the other mech.

"Stop provoking him!" Stormrunner hissed. "You're NOT helping things!"

"Didn't know I was supposed to be," Blitzwing retorted.

She rolled her optics. "You're useless."

"Hook has a point," Onslaught put in as he forcefully shoved Hook back into his seat. "A single attack by a single band of lunatics – if it's even a band and not simply one deranged individual – hardly warrants a full-scale panic. And while our Air Commander may be young and excitable, she isn't given to panic."

"She's cautious," Stormrunner replied. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Not cautious without due reason," Onslaught retorted. "If she's suggesting that more deaths are on the horizon, then something ominous is coming. Something worse than a single random attack on a Decepticon patrol."

"Oh come on!" Swindle protested, throwing his hands in the air. "The kid's a parent herself! She's got every right to be cautious and to want us to be too!"

"Admirable of you to come to her defense, as always," Onslaught muttered. "But don't deny it. She knows more than she lets on."

"I agree with 'Slaught on this," Motormaster added, and Blitzwing felt his spark sputter in shock at that statement – Motormaster never agreed with anyone, much less the leaders of the other gestalt teams. "Somethin' weird's goin' on if Glory's getting her wires in a snarl over it. Either she knows more about these fake Knights than she lets on, or there's something ELSE goin' on too."

Stormrunner frowned. "She IS Shockwave's Air Commander. She'd be privy to information none of the rest of us have access to. Except for Soundwave…" Her gaze moved toward the blue mech, then quickly flickered away, as if afraid she'd open herself to his scrutiny if she stared at him too long.

"Yeah, well, we all know we ain't getting any info out of Sounders unless our name's Megatron or Shockwave," Swindle quipped. "No offense, sir."

"Offense: not taken," Soundwave replied, then rose to his feet. "Speculation: pointless. Advisement: take advised precautions and await further information and orders."

"You just flat-out admitted something IS going on!" Motormaster roared, pointing an accusing finger at the tape deck. "Spit it out already! What the frag's got Decepticon High Command so worked up anyhow? And what's it got to do with us?"

"No further information forthcoming at this time." And with that, Soundwave turned toward the door.

"Where are YOU goin'?" Motormaster demanded. "Get back here, we ain't done yet!"

"Retrieving Echo and Stardust," Soundwave replied. "Discussion with sparklings: required." And he strode out.

Stormrunner sighed and pressed her fingertips to the sides of her helm. "I suppose we're through here anyhow. Meeting adjourned. Go collect your little ones and get them home… and spend some quality time with them. If some sort of war or skirmish is on the horizon, then we'd better enjoy the calm while it lasts."

The gathered mechs exchanged troubled looks before rising to leave. Blitzwing, for his part, remained sitting for a long while, chewing over everything that had been discussed and liking very little of it. It had never really bothered him before that Glory didn't discuss the goings-on of the High Command with him – though to be honest it was less about respecting the confidentiality of such information and more about ignorance being bliss in his mind. Now, however, he wondered just what she'd been discussing in those meetings… and if it spelled trouble for the Decepticons, or Cybertron as a whole. Or worse, his own little family.

Primus, you're goin' soft, he thought. You never worried about a little fighting like this before. But then, during the Great War he'd never had anyone to worry about besides himself. Now he had something to lose, and that made it all the worse.

Glory couldn't help feeling some measure of relief that she didn't have to question the Quintesson captive directly, only watch a recording of the interrogation. The tentacled aliens were hideous enough in a picture or on video, but seen in the flesh (or metal, or whatever they were made of) they were even worse. She had never been unfortunate enough to see one up close, only from a distance during skirmishes on the colony worlds, and at the moment she preferred to keep it that way.

At least this particular specimen of Quint-kind wasn't of the five-faced variety. It still wasn't pretty to look at – a bulbous head with a pale blue, almost animalistic face atop a squat orange-and-silver body that floated atop a jet of gas, with vivid green tentacles spilling from what would be the "shoulders" on a bipedal form. Several of these tentacles ended in charred stumps, panels of armor gaped open to expose circuitry, and one optic looked to have been gouged or shot out at some point. Despite its injuries, the creature gazed imperiously at its captors, as if it were the rightful ruler here.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," Vortex told the captive, stepping into view. "Just tell us what we want to know and this'll be over before you know it."

"I don't share sensitive information with drones," the Quintesson spat, baring its fangs.

"We ain't drones!" Brawl insisted. "When're you gonna get it through your thick heads that we're auto… anno… what's the word again?"

"Autonomous," Blast Off replied in a long-suffering tone. "But that's beside the point, Brawl. Shut up if you can't contribute anything useful."

"Both of you shut up," Vortex retorted. "I'm the interrogator here – you two are just supposed to make sure the octopus don't make a break for it."

"It's a Quintesson, not an octopus," Blast Off countered.

"Though it kinda does look like the octopus the Air Commander smuggled onto the Nemesis when she was a kid," Brawl noted. "Whole lot uglier, though…"

Shockwave, who stood beside Glory as they reviewed the video, turned and gave her a long and pointed look. Glory just smiled. The octopus fiasco had been funny at the time, but she hadn't realized it had been so memorable.

"You two shut up!" Vortex ordered. "You're gettin' us off topic here."

The Quintesson smirked at the bickering Combaticons… then hissed as Vortex prodded one of its burned tentacles with an electro-staff. It backed away as far as its energy bonds would allow and gave the interrogator a venomous glower.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" he asked, not sounding apologetic in the least. "You know exactly how to stop it. Tell us why your kind're attacking our outposts. We ain't done anything to you – why the hostilities?"

"I don't owe slaves any explanations," the Quintesson growled. "You have no right to do this to me – you are property. You rightfully belong to the Quintesson Empire. And you will be punished for this mistreatment of your superior."

Vortex bristled, rotors fanning out behind him in a display of deepening rage. "We. Are. Not. Property." And he lunged forward, staff raised and aimed for the creature's other optic.

Shockwave switched the recording off, though not before a hideous screech escaped the Quintesson captive. "That was the most we got from the prisoner before Vortex lost his temper. Though I doubt we would have learned much more even if he had left the Quintesson intact. They do not respond to traditional interrogation methods well."

Glory tried to suppress a shiver, though she couldn't keep her wingtips from trembling. She had no fondness whatsoever for Quintessons, but all the same, she didn't fully approve of the Combaticons' treatment of this one. The Decepticons had spent years trying to prove to the Autobots that they weren't needlessly violent, yet here they not only accepted but encouraged brutal treatment of a prisoner in order to gain information. And seeing how much Vortex seemed to enjoy what he did… it was unsettling.

You always knew he was an interrogator, she told herself. He just never had cause to show it when you were a sparkling. That was at least a bit of a relief, especially since Vortex was now in frequent contact with both Swindle and Onslaught's adopted sparklings. Both Firebolt and Hornet seemed to adore him as an uncle of sorts, and that meant that despite his questionable duties and skills, he had something of a soft side.

"We at least have a motive behind their attacks," Glory pointed out, pushing those thoughts out of her CPU for the moment. "They see us as their property and want us back. They can't accept that we're sentient, or they just don't care."

"A motive does us little good," Shockwave replied. "Whatever their reasons for waging war on Cybertron, the end result is largely the same. It simply means conquest and subjugation rather than extermination… and to some, the former is worse than the latter."

"Still, if we can reason with them-"

"Quintessons cannot be reasoned with," Shockwave countered. "They are utterly convinced of their own superiority. We must either destroy them before they can destroy us, or repel them to such a degree that they decide Cybertron's conquest isn't worth the trouble."

She sighed deeply. He was right, fraggit – that didn't mean she had to like it, though. "Was anything else brought back from Kalliope? Allicon or Sharkticon drones? Any equipment we may have captured? There's got to be something they left behind that could lead us to their base."

"All drones were destroyed in the fighting," Shockwave replied. "We will continue our search for the Quintessons' base of operations. In the meantime… we have other matters to deal with."

"The Knights of Cybertron," Glory noted. "But I thought they were a myth." That was what she hoped, at least. The thought of such ancient, allegedly immortal beings bent on wiping out Decepticon-kind was terrifying enough that her CPU instinctively recoiled from it.

"No evidence that the Knights of Cybertron exist has been found to date." Shockwave's words were matter-of-fact, not meant to reassure, but they eased her spark all the same. "Our broadcast-hijacker most likely belongs to a terrorist cell that has chosen to take on the name in order to make a statement of some kind. That makes these self-styled Knights no less dangerous, however… especially if they find sympathetic followers."

"They couldn't have picked a worse time for this," Glory groaned. "How are we going to handle an invasion AND a home-grown terrorist movement? There are so few Decepticons left, and we can't be everywhere at once."

"We will not handle this alone." Shockwave moved away from the screen and stood at the window, gazing out at the Polyhex skyline. "I've requested another meeting with the Autobot Council to appraise them of the situation. If they have any sense, they will aid us in finding and crushing these Knights."

"And if they don't?"

"They will. The Autobots want peace, and they will bend over backwards to ensure it. It is an annoyance in regards to the Quintesson issue, but it will benefit us in regards to the Knights of Cybertron."

Shockwave sounded utterly confident in his statement, but Glory wasn't so sure. The Autobots might not want violence, and many of them might pay vocalizer service to the idea of peaceful relations with the Decepticons. But not all of them were accepting of their former enemies… and some hadn't been shy in speaking out in favor of kicking them off the planet, truce or no truce. It wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine that some Autobots, even some very high-ranking ones, would be happy to look the other way while the Knights of Cybertron continued to murder Decepticon-kind in the name of ensuring "peace."

Optimus Prime would never stand for that, some part of her countered. He has always stood up for the Decepticons, and for their right to live on Cybertron unmolested. Even when it meant standing up against the rest of the Council…

But it was hard to think of Optimus Prime as an ally when he had shot down the last of her family. Even years later, even in spite of his repeated apologies for killing her uncle, that wound in her spark still lay open and burning. And while she could be civil to him when they crossed paths in their respective duties, she had a very hard time thinking of him as an ally to their people.

"You're dismissed," Shockwave said at last. "I will contact you when we meet with the council."

Glory saluted and turned to go. She knew she should go straight home – Stormrunner's meeting with the other parents would have ended by now, and she wanted to spend as much time with Blitzwing and Swift as possible during her precious spare moments. But at the moment she was too keyed up to be suitable company for anyone, much less her family. They deserved to see her somewhat relaxed and, if not happy, at least less stressed and worried about two different factions threatening Cybertron at once.

She made her way to the nearest balcony and leaped off, transforming in midair and soaring deeper into the heart of the Decepticon capitol. There was one place she could go, at least. And while she might not be able to talk about what was happening with this particular mechanism, a good dose of wit and sarcasm might help take some of the edge off. Not to mention a stiff drink.

The rumble of chatter and laughter that filled the Rustbucket – a surprisingly clean and upscale bar despite the awful name – might have softened or even died down completely had Glory walked in wearing her usual colors. But Glory had long grown tired of being stared at or having complete strangers salute her in public, and was in no mood to have that treatment tonight. Luckily, her color-shifting abilities weren't public knowledge, and while her violet-and-silver coloring would have drawn unwanted attention, no one looked twice at a black-and-dull-gray Seeker walking into the bar and scanning the tables for a familiar face.

And as an added bonus, the very Decepticon she wanted to see knew about her dual-phase color scheme… and was savvy enough to know not to make a scene.

"Over here, kid!" Steelwing called out from a corner table, raising a hand. "Come park it, you look like you've had a long day. Order whatever, it's on me."

Glory nodded in thanks and sat down across from the Decepticon infiltrator. Despite wearing the violet insignia, Steelwing was a carformer wearing the Praxian body type – a chassis favored by Autobots and made particularly famous by some of their war heroes, such as Prowl and Bluestreak. During the days of the war it had enabled her to slip undetected through the Autobot ranks and wreak havoc from within, and while the war was long over, Glory was sure she'd managed to make it work in her favor.

"Long time no see," Glory greeted, waving a serving drone over to place her order. "You've changed your paint. It looks good on you."

Steelwing glanced down at her new colors – no longer the black with gold highlights that Glory was familiar with, but white trimmed with gold and scarlet. "Thanks. I hate 'em. But my new superior informed me that it wasn't a good idea for a medic to be running around in black. Gives patients the wrong idea, I suppose."

"I have to admit, black on a medic looks a little ominous." Glory shrugged. "Then again, I grew up with a medic who favored lime green and purple, so who am I to judge?"

Steelwing smirked and sipped from a cube of electric-blue energex. "So you finally took my invitation for an after-work drink. Here I thought you were just avoiding me."

"Just busy." Glory accepted her own cube from the serving drone, a shimmering red blend that wasn't terribly strong but would hopefully relax her a little before she went home. "Shockwave keeps me occupied much of the time, and I try to spend as much of my free time as possible with Blitzwing and Swift. Family's important to me."

Steelwing nodded. "Still shocked that Blitz turned into a stay-at-home parent myself. Here I thought he'd never be the type to settle down."

"I don't think he thought HE was the type either," Glory confessed. "But he's taken well to it. And Swift adores him. I think he likes the attention. Or at least the excuse to stay home and play video games all day."

Steelwing chuckled. "Sounds like I've got something to tease him about next time I see him."

A rustle passed through the crowded bar as optics turned toward the door. Glory swiveled around to see what all the fuss was about – and spotted two Decepticons walking in. One was a sleek ruby-red carformer with some of the most stylized armor she'd ever seen on a mech, gleaming with a high polish and carrying himself with the air of a being who knew they looked good and were determined to make sure everyone knew it. The other… was that Updraft? It had to be, she hadn't seen any other red Seekers lately…

"Oh for Pit's sake," Steelwing groaned. "Let's get out of here."

"Why?" Glory frowned. "It's just Updraft. I know her – she's a new recruit from Velocitron."

"Not the femme." Steelwing drained the rest of her cube and made to stand up. "Knock Out. The shiny one strutting around like he's the finest thing on four wheels. They just hired him at the clinic, and I can't stand him."

"He can't be THAT bad," Glory insisted, and raised a hand. "Updraft! Come sit with us!"

"No, kid, don't… ugh." Steelwing sank back into her seat and signaled the serving drone for another drink. "Make it stronger this time, I'm gonna need it."

Updraft's gaze met Glory's, and her faceplate was a mask of puzzlement as she tried to figure out who she was. Knock Out evidently had no such reservations, and he took the Seeker's hand and led her over to the table, snatching a spare chair from an empty table along the way.

"Steelwing, fancy meeting you here," the mech practically purred. "I've been wondering where your favorite after-hours watering hole might be."

"Hello, Knock Out," Steelwing replied in a voice dull as lead. "Don't make this a regular thing, all right? I came here to get away from you."

"Darling, you wound me," Knock Out chuckled. "Can't a mech make a few suggestions for some modifications to improve your appearance? The war is over, dear, you can shed that factory model for something a little more optic-catching."

"Some of us are just fine with factory models," Steelwing retorted.

"Dad, behave yourself," Updraft snapped, her optics flashing as she glared at the red mech.

"I am behaving, sweetspark," Knock Out assured her. "But forgive me, I've been very rude not introducing myself to your friend!" He extended a hand to Glory. "Knock Out of Velocitron. A distinct pleasure to meet you, dear – any friend of Updraft's is a friend of mine."

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Updraft protested, eyeing Glory with a baffled expression. "Thank you for inviting us over, but… do I know you?"

In response Glory just smiled and let her coloring shift back to normal for a moment. "Sorry for the confusion. I wanted to avoid making a scene when I came in, and sometimes this ability comes in handy for that. Glory of Polyhex." She shifted her plating back to black, hoping no one else had witnessed the change.

Updraft's optics went bright with shock, and she made to stand. "Ma'am!"

"Please, stay sitting," Glory urged. "I don't want my troops saluting me every time they see me. It makes me feel like I'm being put on display or something."

Knock Out's optics flashed as well. "Glory… Air Commander Glory? Cyclonus' successor?"

She nodded. "But just Glory for now. I'm off-duty."

A slow grin crossed Knock Out's lip plates. "Stories about you have reached even Velocitron, Glory. We've all heard how instrumental you were in overthrowing Galvatron."

Heat flooded her faceplate, and she busied herself with her drink. This kind of attention was just what she'd been hoping to avoid.

"Don't be fooled by how regal they make her look in the broadcasts," Steelwing advised. "She's pretty modest about it all. Pretty much the polar opposite of Starscream – if it'd been him, he'd be crowing about it until the heat death of the universe."

Knock Out chuckled at that, but Updraft's wings twitched. Glory wondered at that – did she harbor some loyalty to Starscream and resent hearing Steelwing speak ill of him? Or did she just think it inappropriate to make light of any officer, even one who'd been dead for cycles?

"You never mentioned that you'd managed to befriend the Air Commander, Updraft," Knock Out noted. "I'd hoped you'd make friends here, but not in such high places."

"We're not really friends," Updraft insisted. "We've only spoken once since I got here."

"I'd still like to get to know you a bit better," Glory told her. "I try to learn all I can about all my fliers, and you're no exception." She extended a hand. "Stay awhile and talk? I promise I don't bite."

Updraft hesitated, but finally reached out and clasped her hand, a slight smile on her faceplate. "I'll hold you to that. But I warn you, I bite back."

Glory laughed. "Good to know. So this is your creator? I thought he was in mods, not medical."

"Oh, the clinic covers modifications as well as medical issues," Knock Out replied. "I've had some medical training, so I'm able to fill in as needed. And it's a temporary placement until my own shop opens."

"Thank Primus," Steelwing muttered.

"Oh come now, I'm not THAT bad of company." Knock Out grinned and winked at Steelwing. "And my offer of a discount still stands should you choose to upgrade at my shop, dear."

"For the last time, I'm happy with this form…"

Updraft looked to Glory and made a show of rolling her optics. "I think he just enjoys egging her on. He likes getting a reaction, good OR bad."

"Reminds me of a few mechs I know." Or used to know, she thought, a bit wistfully. Skywarp had certainly enjoyed provoking a reaction wherever he went, though he hadn't been nearly as obsessed with his appearance as some mechs…

Stop it. You're here to relax and enjoy yourself, not mope about the past.

"So what do you do when you're not leading the troops or lurking in bars?" asked Updraft wryly, taking a drink from the serving drone.

"I don't lurk in bars THAT much," Glory countered with a laugh. "When Shockwave's not running me ragged I'm usually at home with my conjux and sparkling."

"Oh, you're a parent?" Updraft brightened at that. "Just to one?"

She nodded. "Swift was an orphan at Shockwave's academy. When we liberated the last of the academy sparklings from the Autobots I ended up taking her in. She's a little shy, but I think she'd love to meet you at some point."

Updraft had just opened her mouth to respond when Glory's comm pinged. She murmured a quick apology to the others and turned away, touching the side of her helm as she took the message.

Air Commander, this is Beatbox. They're requesting Decepticon troops at the correctional facility in Kalis.

Glory bit back a frustrated curse and responded. Another attack? The question was if it was Quintessons or the Knights of Cybertron…

No… it's a jailbreak. Galvatron's loose.