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Chapter: Engage]
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[Location: Trajin prison block - hallway]
The puddles of liquid on the ground told Branx that the others went one way. He decided to go the other way. From this side he could clearly see the doors in the hall, each one of them a prison. For a moment he marveled at how invisible the access had been from inside their cell. He walked past the doors without a thought, in search of the exit. It briefly occurred to him that the rooms might hold other prisoners, but he was too occupied with himself to realize the potential of allies in those rooms. Branx only saw potential hostiles; he continued on. Eventually he found an open room with several sinks to his left. He became aware of his own filth and, after looking up and down the hallway, he quickly ducked inside. Branx cleaned himself at one of the sinks and washed the dirt off of his form. He did so carefully and remained aware of the possible threat of having escaped the cell. The room was unkept and not tidy, but the merchant had a feeling that this was not a very kept place; if this was some kind of prison then he should have expected this much.
He left the room and stood in the hallway. What was he going to do now? Maelstrom and Tesla had gone the other way, and Branx had a feeling they had gone to pursue Mistwind and the strange robot. He realized that he himself did not want to, so the other way remained a better option. He straightened himself, forced his nerves calm and went down the hallway, pretending to not be a prisoner.

As he walked onwards he observed the hallway itself and noticed the green bands that adorned the walls. They seemed vaguely familiar but he could not quite place it. It was at the back of his mind and he was sure that he had seen the color somewhere with some dreadful connotation, but when, where, and what eluded him at the moment. It probably wasn't important anyway. He briefly paused in front of a wall plaque that was adorned with strict lines and more bands of green. "Vigilance keeps us safe." The merchant mech whispered, repeating the words on the plaque, "Be ever watchful for bad behavior. What the-?"
Was this some kind of code? He continued on. A support strut corridor that he passed underneath held another plaque with the same chiseled font. This plaque held one ominous message: OBEY COMMAND.
This looked somewhat grim. The hallway was empty, but it didn't feel empty. Branx couldn't shake the distinct feeling that there was something here, a presence that lay thick on him and made him feel dreary. There was a heavy thrum that cut through the air and walls; a sound he could discern if he focused well enough. It made him feel claustrophobic. He passed another wall plaque: You are the face of the empire: CLEAN your grinders after service!
Branx squeaked in dread, "Grinders?" He had seen grinders…
He saw them on the piranha-mechs that were dropped into the prison chamber.
"By Primus." He whispered and quickened his pace.
He passed another support corridor. BE VIGILANT, were the words set in steel. And he passed many more:
Good units execute their orders. Have you completed all of your orders today?
FUNCTION WELL.
We must be strict to be effective. It is to keep us safe.
OBEY COMMAND.
Is your behavior according to your model type specifications list? If you suspect that it is not, report to the smelters for behavioral correction.
BE VIGILANT.

By now, Branx had trouble keeping himself from running. Running drew attention. If this place called so much on being vigilant then he couldn't afford to make noise and draw attention. He turned a few gears to try and clear out his tension. Then a sound he did not make reached his audio receivers and he froze to the spot. His optics widened in genuine fear.

The sound came from a sidepassage a few meters away. It was a light stepping of feet. It drew nearer.
Branx looked around quickly, but the hall had no place for him to hide. He involuntarily placed a foot back, ready to turn and run.
Where would he run to? The other way where the others had gone off to? The footsteps approached. Not long now. His audios must be playing tricks on him, mixing in the sound of the piranha-mechs splashing in the lime-green glow of bulbous optics. /Focus/.
He straightens himself, reversing his step to a forwards motion just as the footsteps reach the corner. His pulse quickens… A shadow casts onto the floor… And a mech walks into view.
"…!" Branx freezes but not out of fear. He's staring down in blank surprise at the small robot that came walking out of the sidepassage. It carried a small crate, and glanced at him. They were the only mechs in the hallway.

Branx held his posture firm and slipped into a polite nod, acting as if he belonged here.
The little mech blinked, stared, and nodded back before walking off into the hall as it went on about its business, walking away from Branx. A feeling of relief came over the merchant as the little mech hadn't stopped and stared for too long. He was noticed, and that was it.
He stopped in front of the crossing where the small mech (He had never seen a robot that small before) had come from. There was a sign here, indicating that the hallway led to lower floors.
Lower floors of what?
The hall where Branx himself came from was signed to lead to 'Cell block Trajin'. Where the little mech was going off to pointed several markings, one which read 'upper floor, shoal and exit elevators'.
Exit? Why, yes please! Walking on, the Amolgoth merchant headed out into the hallway, reminding himself to walk with purpose. Which, he did. If he could make it to the elevator and somehow out of this place, whatever and wherever this place is...
"Going up, Sir?"
"Gyah!" Branx startled, noticing that he had made it to an elevator sooner than he had expected. He looked down at where the voice had come from and saw the little mech from before holding the elevator for him. Bright azure optics were staring up at him with patience. Wow, that mech was easily overlooked.
"The elevators are kinda slow, Sir. And I believe that the seclusion cells are still being renovated." The small mech nodded further into the hallway, stepping aside in the elevator doorway, "So I guess you were on your way to the elevator too, Sir."
"Er, why, yes, yes I am. Thank you, little one." Branx nodded, and strided deftly into the elevator. The little mech stepped inside as well and pressed the top-most button. Branx glanced over the options, but found that he could not read their glyphs. "..." he thought about this.
The elevator doors closed and the lift set itself into motion. There was no elevator music to be enjoyed, and the only sound that was heard was the sound with which the cabin was zooming up into the air.
Along with the monotone thrumming that was just on the edge of his sensor range.
He should say something. He belongs here, idle chitchat should be made.
"You seem young." Branx went with that, looking at the small mech who had clasped his hands behind him and was now balancing playfully on a foot. It looked up at him, a bit indignant, "I am three and a half weeks old, sir! That is almost four!"
Branx, whose age had already passed into a couple of million years, tried not to look shocked, "Oh! Er, yes! M-my apologies, that is a very good age!"
At that remark, the little mech brightened with a proud smile.
"A-and you're allowed, er, down there? It doesn't really seem like a... a very /fun/ place to be?" This mech was so young! Branx had seen children... of other species. Most of them liked to play. He had never met a mech this young. It looked like it had an alternate mode; was it a Cybertronian? If yes… how many more Cybertronians would he see? That would make blending in a lot easier!
"It is not a fun place to be, Sir. The people there aren't happy, and their visitors aren't much fun either... er! B-But you seem friendly, Sir. I did not mean to say that you seem bad or something."
"Oh, I'm not offended, little one. Don't worry." Branx smiled, realizing that this litle mech probably indeed saw him as a visitor. He had made a good decision in cleaning the grime off his frame. "Do you have a name, little one?"
At this, the mech suddenly crinched, "You're gonna report me, aren't you, Sir? For talking. I know I'm not supposed to talk to the visitors… I'm really sorry, Sir!"
"What? No! No I'm not going to do such a thing. I was just curious. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. That is ok. I'm not going to report you to anyone." Branx placated.
At this, the fear leapt from the smaller mech's face. "Ok!" It nodded, settling back to seeming content and playful again. A happy humming rose from its vocalizer, and Branx smiled.

Soon, the elevator began to slow down, and much to Branx's relief he saw that they had reached the top floor. He inhaled deeply in glee as the elevator doors slid open.
It was another hallway.
"My number is 23675." The child introduced itself lightly before grabbing its little crate anew and walked out into the hall. Branx followed it, having nowhere else to go. The small mech had a number? It didn't have a name? Only... a number? He attempted to look around without causing suspicion. He did not automatically introduce himself in return out of fear that his name would raise suspicion, but even if he had it probably did not matter: The little mech decidedly walked into the left branch of the hall without giving Branx a second glance.

"D-HEX-23675, what are you doing? Do not leave him behind!" Fernicius growled over the internal communications frequency that only Hextaida Mandar could hear.
"Do not worry, Master Creator Fernicius Sir. Unit Branx Amolgoth the Third has no clue where to go, but this one does!" The prototype answered silently.
"Where are you taking it, then? You can't let it go to the exit! You are forbidden to let it traverse any path that will lead it to the exit!"
"Acknowledged, Master Creator Fernicius Sir."

At sufficient distance, Hextaida turned around to see Branx wavering. "Aren't you coming, Sir?" he called out.
"Eh?" The merchant mech focused on him, but Hextaida showed no sign of thinking his behavior strange.
"The second elevator, Sir! You know that we don't have one elevator going all the way from entrance to the lower prison chambers, right? What if there was an outbreak? That would be a real disaster. In case of alarm, command will shut down the elevator leading to the surface, trapping prisoners down here for easy arrest."
Branx nodded, "Ah, yes, yes, of course! Now I remember. The way just looks a bit different on the way back, you know. And elevators aren't exactly the most captivating things, little one; they're easily forgotten."
Branx realized that he should hurry up before command notices the outbreak and rings the alarm. He feels his pulse quicken again at the thought of being cut off from the exit ready to be picked off. At least the little one had now given him information about his location: He was underground. Somewhere. There was a surface. He wanted to get to that surface, badly.
Hextaida nodded and turned around to lead the way.
D-HEX-23675 couldn't imagine how anyone would forget the amount of elevators it took to get somewhere, let alone a mech who has the advantage of advanced memory-loops. But he will forgive you your lies, Branx.

Carrying his crate Hextaida Mandar leads the way to, indeed, another elevator and called it. It arrived shortly and both mechs stepped inside again. Hextaida promptly sets down his crate, glancing at Branx, "If you see a Master, please don't tell him I put my cargo down, Sir. This one knows it's a machine, but carrying cargo all the time gets heavy… I'm sure you can understand."
Branx nodded understandingly, "I can imagine that, little one."

"D-HEX-23675, Are you pretending to be lazy? You were /built/ for cargo carrying. I am very interested in evaluating your speech pattern after this." Comes Fernicius semi-interested comment over comlink.
"The neutral does not like this place, Master Creator Fernicius Sir. Would this one not fall in line with it by also not showing fondness for home Khalanxis?"
"Your point has been noted down, unit. I will test your fondness for the facility later."
"Acknowledged, Master Creator Fernicius Sir."

"Do you like it here?"
D-HEX-23675 looked up at the sudden question; "E-excuse me, Sir?"
"You're almost 4 weeks old, right? Do you like it here so far?"
"Oh" Hextaida thought for a moment, thinking on his answer. He frowned in puzzlement. What should he answer?
Khalanxis is his home, of course he likes it! But what if the neutral's opinion was negative, and if he voiced something positive it would make them drift apart? That would be bad. But he didn't want to lie about his home...
"I, er, I think it's a good place, Sir. The Masters are strict, but effective. That is good. And so this one likes it. It has never been anywhere else before, but that doesn't diminish its feelings of like." He declared. Branx glanced at him before clueing in, "Ah, yes, of course. I think you're quite right at that."
Oh dear. The child was probably a slave. He couldn't answer him in any other way, that would probably get him in trouble. Branx felt a twinge of compassion for the little mech; it probably didn't know what kind of situation that it was in!

The elevator slowed down, came to a stop and opened its doors. Hextaida had made sure to dutifully pick its crate back up in case someone would be standing on the other side of the doors and caught him slacking off. He shrugged at Branx, as if lamenting the job, and the merchant looked down at him with a small hint of pity. The little mech stepped outside first, but this time waited for Branx to get out as well.
"I will walk with you to the hall leading to the reception area before going back on my own way, Sir, if you like. To make sure you don't get lost; It's a maze here and you could get stuck wandering for hours."
"Ah, that is very kind of you, little one. Thank you." Branx smiled gratefully and followed the smaller mech as he lead the way.

On this floor the hall held a certain grandness that the lower floor did not have. This made Branx happy to see: It meant that they had indeed left the backwater dingy area of the prisons behind. The green bands here were brighter and well kept, but the entire area still looked very practical. Here too were many of the phrases that he had seen below; the codes of conduct a reminder to whomever read them that they were 'important parts of the Empire' and that they should behave.
23675 scurried out in front of him, not too fast, not to slow. It occurred to Branx that the little mech did not seem upset by the writing on the wall. That wasn't overly strange but considering its age it was very well possible that this mech was activated here. Wherever here was.
Shouldn't this be Cybertron then?

They walked down the hall, again passing doors. They were marked with the letters SC followed by a number. Some of them, Branx noticed with slight concern, had scratch markings and weird pits as if someone hammered them with nails. He closed the distance between him and 23675 a bit more.

"Oh, I see what you are doing, Hextaida Mandar. That is indeed quite clever." Fernicius commented idly as the little mech lead Branx to the end of the hallway and requested access to the door set in the dead end. It slid open obediently, and both mechs walked inside.

The room was rather big, and circular. There were thick supportive beams running up to converge into a central disk of light. It gave the room a mystical appearance, focusing light on the room's center while given the edges a slight cloak of shadow. There was another door on the other side of the room, but Branx's attention was caught by what the light was illuminating: there was a large, black mirror set in the ground, circular like the room itself. He stepped forwards in curiosity, noticing the thin veil of fog that drifted above the floor and swirled around the mirror surface.
"What is this...?" He whispered.
His sensors picked up that the air was wetter here; his metal began to coat itself with just a shimmer of condense. It was colder here. And the air seemed to be just slightly on the acidic side. Even a bit salty too.

Hextaida, small as he is, slipped back while Branx stepped forwards and looked around the room. He noticed how the Neutral had seemingly lost interest in getting out as fast as possible, and was instead genuinely curious to the appearance of this room.
But he had a task to complete. He had his orders, and they did not include investigating this mech's curiosity.
"Master Creator Fernicius Sir, please lock this room now, Sir."
"Am I interpreting that you intend to watch? … What is your intrinsic motivation for that, unit?"
"Certainty of having fulfilled the task you gave this unit, Master Creator Fernicius Sir. Also, this one wishes to stand united with its tower brethren, Sir."
"Acknowledged."
The door slid shut in compliance and a set of large, steel bars slid in front of it to tightly lock the thing. Branx spun around immediately. "W-what is this… d-did you lock the door?! Why!"
Hextaida Mandar replied with a giddy laugh, "I did not, but it doesn't matter whether I did, now does it? We are not done playing yet... and I want to play so very badly. Let's play a game of silence, shall we? Let's be really silent..."

Branx blinked in shock at the turnaround that the little mech is showing him. He stammers, looking for words, and bristles, "No. No! Let's not play a game, you little idiot! You unlock that door right now, you hear me?!"
"Oh... be careful, neutral... you have to be silent..." Hextaida ignored the outcry, smiling widely.
"NOW!"
SPLASH!
Branx spins around at the sudden splash coming from the center of the room. His optics focus on the black mirror as its surface ripples and waves. /Liquid./
It's not a mirror. It's a pool!
A feeling of dread stirs in Branx as the surface begins to ripple more, splashing violently over the rim and spreading across the floor. The water…. He gets a sickening memory of the room with the rusty water and the circular indentations in the wall.
"You weren't silent..." is the rather sing-songy comment that comes from 23675, who accurately speaks Branx's fearful thoughts.
"Little one...?" He starts, staring at the center of the room with severe distrust.

All too suddenly, and with a nauseating squeak from Branx, a waterdrop-shaped form breaks from the water, dragging with it a tail with a spiked ball attached to the tip. Sharp dorsal spikes rise up from having previously laid flat against the backside. The beast lands effortlessly on the floor, bulbous, lime-green optics blinking in curiosity at the newcomers. Its clueless, dumb stare would be funny if only if the half opened maw didn't show rows of sharp fangs, turning slightly in a grinder rotation.
Branx literally feels his pulse slow and his ventilation system speed up, "Oh no..."
Much to his added shock, 23675 adresses the beast with extreme excitement, and no fear at all.
"Brother Sharkticon! The Masters let me bring you a snack!" Hextaida purred in delight, "It's a high-class merchant, I bet it's very tasty!"
"Tasty?! I am not!" Branx rejected furiously. Is the child proposing him as food? What is wrong with it?!
The Sharkticon blinked, optics shifting to and fro. It took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the two not-Sharkticons. Its maw widened in an exhilarated grin, "Tasty!" It repeated, tail setting into a doggish wag,
"No! No! Not Tasty!" Branx yelled, turning and fumbling with the door controls. He glanced back over his shoulder, sheer panic overtaking him. Hextaida giggled as the Sharkticon wavered forward, confused about the prospect of having something tasty that was apparently trying its very best to leave. This was confusing. Was this play? Was he supposed to let the food escape for a bit before eating it?
Behind him, several more splashes heralded the surfacing of more Sharkticon units, drawn by the commotion and presence of strangers in their nest. They heaved deep breaths as well, nudging the sides of the first Sharkticon in communication; what was going on here? What was the situation they were witnessing here? Why did the tower-brother bring a stranger into their shoal chamber?
By now, more and more of the beasts were surfacing. They were very physical, flocking their bodies together and letting their growls and chirps reverberate through the forming mass of aquatic mechanisms. Their combined optical light was slowly illuminating the room in a lime-green ambience.

"Little mech!" Branx glanced at Hextaida in frantic panic, "Please open this door! We've played enough!"
Hextaida Mandar grinned, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, arms crossed. He gave Branx a rakish grin, "Sorry, Neutral Cybertronian, but this unit cannot comply. My orders were to intercept… and execute."
"E-Execute?" Branx stammered.
Ah! That was a word the Sharkticons understood all too well! All of them perked up at once, all sense of confusion gone in an instant. Their maws clicked open simultaneously, revealing too many grinders for any mech's sense of sanity. Except, of course, for that of Hextaida who grinned even bigger at the sight of such voracious hunger. "Affirmative! /Execute/." He whispered towards the piranhaformers.

"N-No, damn you! Don't execute!" Branx cried out, face set into rage at the betrayal. But the Sharkticons weren't about to listen. With a furious snarl, Branx let his right arm twist at the elbow. His lower arm split in half to let a distinctive barrel slide into function. Hextaida raised one eyebrow in puzzlement as the merchant suddenly pointed the pipe towards him, a bright light forming at the muzzle. "If I die then so will you, you slaggin' backstabber!" The merchant growled.
There came an alarming cry from one of the Sharkticons who promptly transformed to his robot mode and dashed towards the little prototype. It's optics were wide with concern. But Hextaida had never seen a gun before so when the Sharkticon yelled at him to "Run!" he just frowned in utter confusion.

Suddenly, part of his chest exploded and he was deafened by a loud bang. Then, searing hot pain reached his sensors, overloading his weak tolerance for the feeling. He barely even witnessed the large hands that protectively closed around him and prevented him from crashing to the ground. His world went dark.

"D-HEX-23675?"
"D-HEX-23675?! Answer me! That's an order!"

"Master Creator Fernicius Sir!"
"...Macetail! What happened?"

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End of Chapter: Engage]
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