Survival Rate

"LAWS STOP HERE."

That's what the holographic letters arched over the street read. Obviously they wanted every 'bot who wandered through here to get the chance to make a run for it. Butthat's not what Brawn was here to do; he was here to get in, get out, and get to a safe zone before he regretted stepping into this kind of neighbourhood.

Axiom Nexus had two sides to it. There was the side that all the tourists and travellers saw when they ventured into the city, the side with flashing neon lights polluting the minds of the naïve. Then there were the sub-levels, where he was. The labyrinth of streets were narrow and twisted. The buildings so tall that they blotted out all natural sunlight that managed to break through the poisonous yellow clouds. (Though Brawn wasn't even sure if this system had a sun.) around here, there was barely any room to transform and it was designed to be difficult for law enforcement to navigate. Shops were subversive, to say the least. Bars were places of corrupt and desire. No questions asked. There was a shifty character haunting every corner. This was the kind of place Brawn used to love – to find exhilarating – in his younger years, when he took the night off to forget about the war.

Brawn descended a staircase and stepped out on to what must've once been a brilliant avenue. There were even trees made of twisted metal dividing the traffic lanes. Nowadays, it was overrun with scrap metal, tires, and other random debris. He even stepped over a body part or two. To Brawn's far right, there was a massive gate that abruptly cut the street off, as if it had been place there for the sole purpose of keeping something in or out. He headed in that general direction, trying to remember where it was. But he needn't have worried. Tucked into a tight corner to the left of the gate was a double door with a neon sign above it that flickered, crying out for some sort of attention.

"Widow's Café."

Brawn approached the door. Cautiously. He didn't want to startle anyone lurking in the darkness; he always hated 'bots who launched sneak attacks, like they had to sneak up instead of fighting face-to-face. There was a sign next to the bar that he quickly read over. "No Megatrons, Primes, or MacGuffins." (He'd never really been sure what this meant.) In front, Brawn paused a final time and checked for a bouncer that did not exist. He entered.

Widow's Café didn't care who you were, as long as you planned to pay for your booze on the way out. The moment Brawn entered their ranks, he spotted everyone from Decepticons, to Autobots, to neutrals, to factions he didn't recognize, and all the way to a handful of Nebulans and Quintessons. Characters from every background were willing to risk a trip down to the gutter of Axiom Nexus for a taste of the Café. There were two levels. The bar was located on the upper floor. Then there was an atrium where bar patrons could look down on the ring below, though "ring" was a very loose way to describe it. Really it was just an open space where those who were tough enough were willing to beat the slag out of each other to earn some easy cash.

It was a quiet night. Patrons were leaning over the railing, cheering on one very noisy round going on below; Brawn couldn't see who was duking it out from this angle. Though he had a hunch. He turned his attention to the normally crowded bar.

Here sat the despondent Crystal Widow, a femme with a constant distracted look in her optics that made it clear she didn't care what happened. Brawn aimed for her.

She barely looked up. 'Brawn.'

'Widow,' he nodded. 'I see you're as cheerful as ever.'

'What are you doing here? Though I don't care either way.'

Like that was news to him. 'Springer in the house?'

'See for yourself,' Crystal Widow pointed to the ring.

Brawn did. He marched over, shoved aside a few patrons, and looked down.

He was just in time to see Springer deliver an uppercut to a Decepticon's chin, launching the enemy high into the air.

The Decepticon arched back and hit the floor. Springer took a step back, purple energon dripping off of his fist. He looked quite pleased with himself. Springer. A green, bulky Autobot who was large enough to challenge Ultra Magnus and not feel too hesitant about fighting him, with a sword at the ready and an emotion chip the size of Estham's Nebula. Had an ego to match.

On que, Springer drew out his sword and descended on the enemy with a characteristic battle cry. The 'con screamed and barely managed to roll out of the way, leaving the sword lodged in the floor. The crowd roared with approval. For an encore, Springer lifted the Decepticon over his head and tossed him out of the ring. He circled, gesturing for calls of "Srpinger" and "Wreckers" combined. Brawn? He glowered down, arms folded.

That was when Springer spotted him.

It brought him back down to reality. Springer departed the ring and the betters started collecting or giving up their money.

Minutes later – after the crowd had calmed and new opponents took to the ring – Brawn shadowed Springer as the latter stepped into the open streets. He was shaking the liquid energon off his servo.

'What the slag are you doing here?' Springer asked. 'I thought you were working for Cybertron Services.'

'I am working for Cybertron Services.'

'Oh, well, that's keen!' Springer abruptly turned and leaned against the side of the building. 'Imagine! You, a loyal employee! Primus, I can't imagine what they were thinking!'

'Shut up!' Brawn jabbed a finger at Springer's knee, which was the highest point he could reach. 'It's not funny! I'm here on business!'

'Is that so?'

'You're in big trouble, ya know that?' he persisted. 'Wait, hold that thought. You do know. You just don't think the rules apply to you. As usual!'

'Look who's talkin'!'

'This is serious! I've spent the last few days visitin' every bar from here to Athenia! Blue Deployer! Maccadam's! I've been from the top to the bottom, and I find you in the Widow's Café? ! Is it just me, or is this a running gag with you?'

'You've been lookin' around just for me? This wouldn't happen to be about that assignment, would it?'

'So you did receive the notification.'

'And you decided to ignore it.'

'Bingo.'

'Look, Springer, I'm not in the mood to hear your excuses,' Brawn continued. 'They sent me here to drag you back to Athenia. The assignment is mandatory. It's the same deal I got. You do what the guys back at Cybertron say, they magically forget about all the trouble you've been causin' around the Galactic Rim. You're a crook!'

'I'm not a criminal!'

'If you're not a criminal, what are you doing out here?'

'What I do with my spare time is none of your business!'

'Slaggit, Springer, the Wreckers are dead!' shouted Brawn.

'Springer winced. 'Don't bring that up!'

'I'll bring 'em up all I want!"

'You know what?' Springer clenched his fists. 'I can beat you up all I want down here and nobody's gonna stop me.'

'I will.'

'Why you little – '

'I dare you to try it, Springer.'

Springer's optic twitched.'

'The Wreckers have been dead since the war,' Brawn said. 'They've been dead since the government said they were dead, even when the few lucky survivors went rouge. And where are they? ! They're all withering away in places like this, because you keep lying to them that the Wreckers still have a purpose. There's no point pretending that they still exist and that you're still one of them. It's time you accept that that part of your life is in the past!'

'I'm in charge of the Wreckers; I can't just turn my back on them!' exclaimed Springer.

'What Wreckers? ! The government says that the Wreckers officially disbanded! They don't exist anymore!'

'Spoken like a true government employee. And what does the Brawn that I know think?'

'The Wreckers are done! Capish! Finite! If you think that beatin' up Decepticons every now and then with a ragtag group of wanna-be tough guys make you a Wrecker – well, then, you're more deluded than I thought. You need to come back with me to Athenia so we can get started on the assignment that they gave us. I hate 'em too, but they are tryin' to stop you from ruining your life and the lives of the so-called "Wreckers!"

'The Wreckers are NOT out of business!' Springer protested. 'We're out fighting Decepticons behind enemy lines – '

'Fer cryin' out – the war's OVER!'

'The war may be over, but the 'cons still exist! As long as the 'cons exist, the Wreckers are gonna be there to beat the slag out of them until they're begging for mercy that we aren't gonna give them!'

'You and your friends poking at the 'cons isn't gonna make a difference! This is your chance to restart your life! I was smart enough to take the deal; I suggest you do the same!'

'I like the way my life is right now!'

'A group of disbanded "commandos" isn't gonna make any difference to anyone, Springer!'

'The Wreckers have not disbanded!' argued Springer.

'You have to call off this stupid vigilante thing you have going on! You know the Autotroopers raided your place a few days ago?'

Springer blinked. For the first time, he looked worried, and he turned away. '…No…I didn't hear about that…'

'Because you haven't been around to check up on it! They were looking for evidence to convict you with! Unless you take the job at Athenia, you're gonna wind up in a hole you can't dig yourself out of. They don't like Autobots crossing the line!'

'Crossing the line? !' laughed Springer. 'They sit in their offices, drinking vintage oil, partying, doing absolutely nothing about the Decepticons! They can say the Decepticons are dead, they can say they weren't a threat anymore, but I know better! I was fighting with them just last week! I was fighting with one in there! The way I see it, the Wreckers won't be over until everyone one of those stupid 'cons are dead in the Pit, or better yet being melted into scrap metal! At least I'm doing something about the 'cons! You have some nerve accusing me of crossing the line, Brawn! I haven't seen you do anything to help the Autobots!'

Brawn grabbed Springer's wrist and flipped him.

'You wanna run that by me again?' Brawn leaned down, coming face-to-face with Springer. 'Sheesh. What's your problem? You think you can pick fights with anyone who comes around? You seem to have this notion that you're not being useful unless you're fighting! I thought Yoketron taught you better than that!'

'Hey!' Springer rolled over. 'Ixnay on Yoketron!'

'Listen here, Springer, I'm not gonna sit around an' let you rot in the Widow's Café. You're gonna come back to Athenia. Now are you gonna come back willingly or am I gonna have to drag you there?'

'I'm not goin' anywhere,' Springer said. 'And you're not making me!'

Sadly, this was true. Brawn was strong. Most 'bots took one look at him and would do whatever he said. But if anyone could resist his methods of persuasion, it was Springer. They glowered at each other.

'Sorry, Brawn, but I got better things to do then to protecting a stupid Space Bridge,' said Springer. 'I'm going back to the bar. Any more objections?'
Brawn had lost. He knew this. He'd lost the battle, but he hadn't lost the war. He pursued Springer back to the door of the Café.

'Alright, you can hide all ya want!' Brawn called. 'But I'm gonna come back with the new commander an' a whole lot of muscle!'

'Good luck with that!' Springer waved at him vaguely.

The door swung open. Then it closed. Springer was gone.

Brawn lingered. When he realized that Springer had no intention of coming back out, he turned and marched off, steaming. He'd come all this way only for Springer to refuse to return to Athenia like a stubborn protoform, too wrapped up in his fantasy world of heroics. A life that had ended stellar cycles ago, whether he cared to admit it or not. But Brawn wasn't about to give up. If he was going to save Springer from his own immaturity - as usual – he'd have to get backup. It was situations like this where Brawn specialized in what he liked to call "tough love."

He just sure as hell hoped this commander knew how to knock some heads together. It was the only way Springer would listen.