Authors notes:
This part of the story has taken me quite a while to write, due to my work schedule, and the fact that it's complicated enough by number of characters acting in separate locations, that I had to draw myself a map. I am working on the next section now.
Readers who are familiar with a number of TF continuities or frequently read the TF Wiki, probably already realize there are only so many canonical Animated characters, and I have borrowed characters from other TF series. If anyone has trouble identifying whom a character in this fic is based upon, just let me know. Maybe I can create an appendix later.
Though it is not demonstrated in the cartoon, Animated Seekers can transform into Gerwalk mode, like a Valkyrie. Well, at least the toys of a certain class (activator types may not have the articulation for it.)
Watch for Glyph, Ramjet and Vortex to quote Furmanisms, or variations thereof. So, acknowledgments to renown TF comic writer Simon Furman.
The mission was truly underway. The plan called for a quick strike: frontal assault on the administrative wing, Dirge was to locate prisoner's effects to recover weapons, Slipstream was to delete on-site data, and Thundercracker was to hold off Autobots for as long as possible, while Skywarp was to sneak in the back and locate their brothers.
Thundercracker, with Slipstream and Dirge on his wings, flew low to the deck, over the vacant expanse surrounding the prison complex. They took out the guards and sensors at the entrance from their max weapon's range, then swept in and broke formation right in front of the doors. Dirge pulled up and flew a pass over the building, taking out sensors and scanning the building. Slipstream did a partial transformation into walker mode and launched a missile into the doors. Thundercracker transformed to his root mode, drew his swords, and walked through the smoke and rubble Slipstream had just created. As soon as Dirge rejoined her, Slipstream and he transformed to root mode and followed Thundercracker in, watching rear and flank.
While the prison workers were either rushing to the emergency in the administrative wing, or going into lock-down procedures, Skywarp sneaked up to the west wall of the prison. Even with information from Red Alert, he had only an approximate fix on where cell 216 was located in relation to the outer structure. Forcefields kept most of his sensors from scanning the interior, or hearing sound. Skywarp reminded himself that he had others depending on him. If he were in prison, he would want Ramjet or Sunstorm to be brave enough to rescue him. "Please not inside a wall, please not fused to something," Skywarp whispered as he made the estimate-based calculation for the short jump through transwarp space.
Skywarp came out of the jump, limbs held close, posture slouched and optics shuttered. He was not in pain; that was good. He could hear something moving: the servos and hum of an online mech. Skywarp dialed open the irises over his optics. Wrong cell. This mech was a lot larger than a Seeker. "Well, aren't you just a big, beautiful, black bomber?" Skywarp asked, with a nervous laugh.
"Roger."
The corridor through the west side of the administrative wing filled with smoke. Smokescreen ordered the nearest autotroopers to hold off the attack, while he looked for the Warden.
'This foul stuff is impairing my vision!' Thundercracker commed over the channel linking the four. That the comms even worked was surprising, but appreciated. It did mean that their brothers very likely had fully disabled comms and weapons systems, which would require repair.
'It got me too, working on it.' Slipstream pulled her small oscillating fan from subspace and turned the dial with a claw-tip. The fan shifted the smoke, but did not immediately clear her vision.
'Trying to navigate by sensors...it is sticking everywhere. Clogging receptors. Do not use your jets.'
'Magnetic particles,' Dirge commed, he had been at the rear and was not as badly affected. He reached into his recently perfected transwarp pocket dimension and pulled out a few items. A Soundwave toy fell to the ground and began playing music, blinking lights and dancing: raise your arms, shake it to the left, shake it to the right. The drop was accidental, but an excellent distraction for the autotroopers. Their weapons locked onto the toy as a target. The toy played a pathetic mournful tune as its sound system took damage and whined its final note. Dirge appreciated the sound, even as he was angered at the loss of his toy, but the figure's destruction had bought him enough time to concoct a smoke screen remedy out of speaker internals and a polishing cloth. 'Try this! My new invention!'
Slipstream felt the tap on her wing and quickly stowed the fan, then reached a hand back toward Dirge.
'It will attract the particles,' Dirge explained.
'It works. Thundercracker, I'm at your back.'
Thundercracker continued to swing his swords, as he tried to located the opposition with smoke-clogged sensory systems. He felt Slipstream press close to his wings and reach around to wipe his face. 'Better. Now, get off.' Thundercracker made an exaggerated shrug.
Slipstream scowled behind Thundercracker's back. No one in the universe was good enough for Giga-ego, except his favorite coy little so-and-so. She actually liked Skywarp quite a bit, just not being on the receiving end of Thundercracker's complex over soiled by the unworthy. It wasn't like she enjoyed leaning all over their leader and wiping his face for him.
'Skywarp, you manage to get in?' Slipstream commed privately. And then, to the group, "I'm making a break for my target."
Skywarp ignore Slipstream's comm. The big guy was standing menacingly close. "So, um, if you promise not to hurt me, I'll get you out of here."
"Roger."
"That some kind of outdated military affirmative?"
"Roger."
"Is that all you say?"
"Roger."
Just great, Skywarp thought to himself. "Give me a klik, I'm factoring in your approximate mass to see if it makes any significant difference for a short jump. So, nice brand. You from one of those outer rim Decepticon sub-factions?"
"Roger."
"I see, 'something like that'." Skywarp put his hand on the big mech's leg and jumped them both into the corridor between cells. He took half a klik to reorient himself. The cells were marked in numbers he could read, and he could tell he was not even in the correct cell block. Skywarp pulled up the vector drawing Slipstream had hastily made, based on information taken from Red Alert. The complex had a roughly rectangular shape. He was probably at the west side of the south wing. He needed to get to the adjacent block, through a door somewhere north. He saw the door.
Prisoners were calling, offering various rewards or acts of violence, wanting Skywarp to get them out. He knew he simply did not have the power. A few jumps at most, and he had not even found his brothers or gotten out of the building yet. He wanted to have some energy left afterward, in case they had to move on to a new hide-out.
Skywarp tried the code Slipstream had given him. The door remained locked. He was starting to really miss Thundercracker. What would Starscream do? Well, probably overreact, as he felt about to, and fail. So, Skywarp need to think of something else. The null rays at max power might blast the door, but this was a prison after all, and the door looked very solidly constructed, like – well, exactly like some kind of blast door. He had a few missiles; he could use those, if he was in jet mode.
"Walker mode!" Skywarp said happily. It looked like there might be just enough room where the east-west and north-south corridors intersected.
Skywarp backtracked to the junction and turned to face the door, estimating the direction and distance. He made the transformation, drawing his arms in, unfurling his cockpit and the nosecone that had been hidden beneath, tucking his head, and lifting his wings horizontal. In this mode, he could stand braced while using his jet-mode weapons systems from the ground. If he had need, he could use the thrusters on his heels and jump to another position.
Skywarp fired a missile at the door. His sensors said the hit had been direct. He transformed, back to his root mode, and looked through the smoke. The door itself was still in one piece, but it was mangled and completely knocked from its hinges and frame. As Skywarp approached the opened passage, he heard another explosion, this one seeming to come from somewhere above, or east; there was some conflict in his various sensor systems, so he interpreted that it was not a single explosion, but simultaneous explosions in slightly different directions.
The walls shook in the administrative wing. Dirge noted the explosions and continued grabbing whatever stored belongings looked interesting, which was most of them.
In the med bay, a chunk of ceiling, ductwork and roof fell into the middle of the ward. Slipstream stopped her work, momentarily, and looked from the resulting hole then to the nurse-bots she held as hostages. Slag it, she thought. They were all likely going to need nurse-bots whenever this whatever-it-was was over. "Get out!" she shouted at them. She made exaggerated gestures toward the doors. If nothing else, their fleeing would be a distraction. Besides, Slipstream had a feeling she needed to hurry, and had no time to waste watching hostages.
"What was that?" Smokescreen yelled over the sound of fighting in the nearby corridor.
Clamp Down was standing near to his desk, still watching the communications terminal. "If it's a second wave of the attack, we may not have enough reinforcements on the way."
"How many?"
"They said they would see if one of the Minor's could get to us with a security team."
"What is it about 'Decepticons attacking a prison full of Decepticons, guarded by an old cop, two doctors and a company of basic programs' that they do not understand!?"
"Red never signed in for her shift! I was about to call when they broke through the front doors."
Red Alert woke finally with the noise of multiple explosions. The last had rattled the windows in the apartment where she had been abandoned. It did not seem there was anyone on guard. Then, she sensed movement and saw Professor Scalpel was with her. "I fix," he said, waving a claw to her left shoulder, where the damaged tire had been.
"How?" Red Alert asked, still not 100% operational. Probably null rays again.
"Spare."
"Thanks." She would have to get a new spare; she could see the damaged tire beside her, obviously shot-out and too damaged to simply patch. Red Alert tried standing and walked slowly to the windows. The prison was under attack; smoke was rising from several areas of the complex. Red Alert recognized some of the Decepticons attacking from the air. "Team Chaar. No." Her team, led by Rodimus, had encountered them before. That team, led by General Strika, was mainly the reason for their recall and why some team members had been in recovery.
"Strika!" Scalpel said and spit lubricant onto the floor.
Clamp Down was in the prison. Ramjet. "You do not like Strika?"
"I fix." Red Alert understood. There was a particular stress on 'fix', which she interpreted as meaning Team Chaar had probably tried to persuade Scalpel to craft a weapon, or possibly deliberately and permanently harm a Cybertronian in order to accomplish some plan. Even a Decepticon would resist taking action that went against their primary function and programming. Scalpel fixed.
"I understand. Ethical dilemma."
"To make expendable."
"Drones, or some type of suicide attack?"
Scalpel did not speak, but spat again. Red Alert was not fooled by any means, thinking the stance might be noble. She knew very well that Scalpel was thoroughly Decepticon. Even before the war, when she had been young, and he one of her professors, she remembered his holographic lectures and rumors about campus. Professor Scalpel believed in Decepticon ideals: that there should be more equality and freedoms, and that the means to this was revolution and if necessary a kind of forced equality under tyrants, in which the tyrannical government decided how the populace could best be equal. Red Alert was very against their means, though she could sympathize with the longing for equality or personal freedoms. It was sad, in a way, that so many young and underprivileged had been swayed by the Decepticons and joined their side. They were essentially trying to replace one controlling form of government with another controlling form of government.
Maybe it was time for a change. Red Alert had even heard Autobots saying it. But the Decepticon way was not the best means. There had to be other options.
Red Alert looked down from the window. There had been a time when she could have easily survived the jump. To fall, transform, and then fire rockets, spread wings and skim the ground instead of crashing, land gracefully and drive away. It was an exhilarating and impressive stunt, and she only knew one other Autobot who could do it. Now, he was the only one.
"I've got to get over there." Had the Seeker clones known the other Decepticons were coming? Was Ramjet a prisoner still?
"Oh, we're totally safe in here," Ramjet observed bitterly. What type of procedures did Autobots have regarding treatment of prisoners while the prison was being blown all to the pit, not that Kranix 's doom saying was rubbing off on him.
The door at one end of their block had blown right out of its frame, and soon after it felt and sounded like something struck the roof. The crazies were getting crazier.
"Now is the time, Friend," Swindle called from across the corridor. "What say we get out of here?"
Sunstorm seemed to look in Swindle's direction, but he looked past him, or at nothing. He needed to get out, now, before the walls caved in on him!
"Oh, I have a really good feeling about this. Don't do anything too brilliant, Sun-" Ramjet's warning was cut off by the hiss and crackle of Sunstorm launching himself into the force bars.
Sunstorm absorbed as much of the energy as he could, but there was enough generated that it hurt, and he felt his systems flickering as his surge protectors struggled to divert what was not absorbed.
This was bad. It was not working, Ramjet thought. The force bars looked different where Sunstorm made contact, but Sunstorm did not look good. His optics were over bright and there was smoke and a scent like ozone coming through the uppermost gaps and seams in his armor. Ramjet did the only thing he could think of: he launched himself into Sunstorm as hard and fast as he could.
The two Seeker clones both passed through the bars where they were weakened. Ramjet felt a strong shock, but it was not enough to deactivate any systems, fortunately. They tumbled to the floor. Sunstorm pushed Ramjet off him and climbed to a standing position. He was storing too much, he had to release the energy.
"Fire in the hole!" Vortex shouted and pulled Swindle back against the farthest wall of their cell.
Skywarp was just entering the block from the south when he got a clear view of Sunstorm. Millicycles later the corridor was filled with light. There was following a sound like a terrible wind. The accompanying shock wave threw Ramjet into the north end of the corridor, obliterated the force bar projectors on the nearest six cells, and caused varying degrees of damage to prisoners and cells, depending on their proximity.
Having released the energy, Sunstorm himself seemed immune to its effects, or else had the ability to direct the blast away from himself. He had released enough energy to stabilize his systems, but he was still not entirely in his right mind, his emotional subroutines being still affected. He though only of escaping the prison. He ran south, shoving Skywarp out of his way without a word or glance of recognition, and then rushing past the big mech following.
Skywarp steadied himself and observed the chaos. Lugnut was in the cell just to his left, with bars intact. "You!" he said.
Skywarp shied from the cell. The big mech following him approached and seemed to intentionally put himself between Lugnut and Skywarp. Skywarp knew had had to deal with that one, but right now, he saw that Sunstorm had run south, while Ramjet was on his feet again and crashing through the door to the north. How he managed that, Skywarp did not know.
'Aster-1, you read me?' Skywarp commed.
'Yes. Busy. Did you find them?'
'Sunstorm sorta blew up and then ran away, and Ramjet just crashed through a door.'
'Repeat.'
'There was a flash and then FWOOOM and Sunstorm ran outta here like an over-energized turbofox. Then, Ramjet got up, crashed through a blast door and just kept on going. I am going to go after Sun. RJ is heading in your direction.'
'2. Team Chaar is here. Cyclonus is with them. We need to regroup soon, even if you do not have Sunstorm.'
'Acknowledged. Aster-2 out.'
Red Alert ran from the converted warehouse, as she exited in the front, the prison was blocked from her view. She opened a comm channel to Ironhide, a team member she hoped might be close enough to help.
"Hey, Red," Ironhide greeted her jovially.
"'Hide, there's trouble. Has there been any word? Are you in the southwest quadrant?"
"The prison? I just heard Team Chromia was sent out there. Something about an attempted break-out."
Red Alert was at the corner of the building, almost back in view of the prison. She knew some of the members of Chromia's team. They were an excellent security team, but as with many others, members of the team were selected with thought to making a well-rounded team, rather than one that specialized in a particular function. Another medi-bot would be welcome, and techs had their uses, but what they really needed was more front line fighters.
"Ironhide, it's bad. If you know anyone, any frontliners, and you don't have orders otherwise..."
"I understand. Don't you worry. Brawn and I are heading to you now; we'll comm others on the way."
"Be advised, Decepticons got through the air defenses and are trying to break-out those in the prison. Looks like all of Team Chaar, three others I do not recognize...and at least four Seekers. There are Autobots still inside, plus some north of the complex."
Ironhide acknowledged and dropped the connection to call others.
Red Alert was fully in view of the Prison again, and she saw nurse-bots running from the rubble-strewn entrance on the north face of the admin wing. The three Decepticons she did not know descended to harry the nurses. Red Alert could hear sirens that might indicate Chromia's team was close, but the nurse-bots did not have time to wait. Red Alert transformed and raced toward the Decepticons, sirens wooping and lights flashing.
"Where's Red?" Ramjet demanded.
Slipstream looked up from the terminal, angry with herself for being surprised. It was probably not the best time to inform Ramjet that his fellow clones had abducted his intended in order to plot his rescue. "I don't know that."
"Did you do all this? Where's Starscream?!"
"He's dead!" Slipstream felt bad, as if speaking another word would cause her vocalizer to break, as if her circuits were somehow undone, as if she'd ingested some low-grade fuel that caused her engine to seize; yet none of those things actually described the feeling at all. "Sorry you didn't get the memo."
Ramjet could not even process Starscream being dead. There was just too much else going on. Why wasn't Slipstream as mocking as usual? There was no sharpness to her tone, even though she made the attempt. She seemed down in the shard, like Sunstorm. "Are you all right?"
"Why aren't you just lying?"
"I don't lie all the time," Ramjet said. This confused Slipstream of course, because it sounded like something one who did lie all the time might say.
There was no more questioning, as the hole in the ceiling allowed two Decepticons to drop into the ward. One was obviously Cyclonus, not only because they had access to Starscream's memory of so many faction rosters and files, but because the pale purple Decepticon still bore marks of losing a battle to Thundercracker. He had no helmet, which exposed the two tall antennae either side of his head, and his torso showed rough weld lines, where his repair systems had not yet been able to fully restore the armor. The other, darker, with transparent domed helmet was Oil Slick.
"Med-bay, excellent, should be some interesting items here."
"We are here to free our Decepticon comrades from Autobot imprisonment," Cyclonus said. He looked to Slipstream.
"Lost something?" she asked, tapping a claw-tip at her own helm.
At that same moment, Ramjet threw himself at Oil Slick and knocked him to the floor. Slipstream took a shot at Cyclonus, but he proved fast enough to evade, and escaped into the corridor. "Could ya have given me any less warning?" Ramjet asked in biting tone. Even with comm systems disabled, he had been able to visually interpret most of Slipstream's quick flash, warning that they were enemies. "Guess I missed the memo about us being Autobots now."
"We're not slagging Autobots!" Slipstream said, her own biting tone returned. "Watch him."
"Really? I had no idea. It's not like I have the exact same files!"
Slipstream reached behind her back, thinking to retrieve her stasis cuffs, but decided she did not want to part with that pair. She took one from a drawer in the med-bay's administrative area, instead. She came from behind the island of workstations and fit the cuffs on Oil Slick.
"I don't suppose you know how to reactivate my systems?"
"I got enough data from the terminal here," Slipstream lied. She knew, because she had taken the information from Ramjet's intended.
Red Alert stood outside, with two Autobots from Team Chromia. First Aid was a medi-bot she knew well from their time training and interning together under Ratchet. Glyph was a small blue femme, one of the mini-bot models, and the team's specialist in communications and information technologies. The other three, Chromia, Override and Flareup were facing off against the three Decepticons of unknown designation.
Override, a magenta and white racing-model, was expert in servo-to-servo combat and stunt driving. She was battling the red and black Seeker.
Flareup, who fought with flamethrowers, much as Hot Shot, was a red cycle-model. She was holding-off a silver and purple Decepticon with slender wings.
Chromia, their leader, armored in pale blue, was also a cycle-model, though she favored a partial transform mode in which she could stand upright on one tire. She danced one-wheeled between the legs of the large gray and purple Decepticon and tripped him with the length of chain she wielded.
"Any Autobots still inside the prison, please respond!" Glyph said aloud, even as she commed.
"Try Primax 1085.28 Alpha," Red Alert suggested. She tuned to the same frequency and encryption scheme.
"Clamp Down, or any Autobots inside prison, this is Glyph of Team Chromia, do you read me?"
'Smokescreen here,' Smokescreen replied, 'Clampdown and I are in the Max Security section. We are locked in, with prisoners still in confinement, but Strika and company are nearly through the first door.'
"Maximum is in the northeast part of the complex, there is no other entrance, except through the Admin wing. That must be where Strika is trying to gain access."
'We are sending help, hold tight, we're with you.'
"There's no one else to send," Red Alert whispered. Maybe, just maybe Team Chromia could handle the strange Seeker and two apparent triple-changing Decepticons, but that left all five members of Team Chaar inside the prison, plus any prisoners outside maximum that may have escaped. And, Red Alert had no idea what the Seeker clones were doing, whose side they were on, or if she could trust them any more than the other Decepticons. Their leader had mentioned having battled Decepticons as well as Autobots, but the enemy of one's enemy was not necessarily a friend. They might just be a meddling third party out for themselves.
"I'll go," Red Alert said.
"Then, I'll go as well." Glyph saw Red Alert's surprise. "If you are willing, can I do less?" It was one of those ritual sayings known to Cybertronian soldiers, like declaring willingness to fight and die rather than flee, promising to make a stand, or claiming one did not wish to live forever.
"On your honor be it," Red Alert responded.
The two walked toward the blown-open entrance.
Ramjet ran through the corridor between the med-bay and the common rooms, where prisoners were taken to wash, exercise or labor. Unknowingly, he passed Thundercracker, who was searching the labor area for allies or foes. Ramjet continued on, finding the door to the administrative wing already open. He had not been in this part of the complex since he was first brought in, but he did remember this was where they had taken his weapons, where he had met the Warden, and also where an exit should be.
"Ramjet!"
"Red!" Ramjet saw Red Alert, a small turquoise Autobot, and some Decepticons at the distant end of the corridor. He raised the one gun he had on his left arm, and aimed toward Glyph.
Red Alert recognized Slipstream's colors on the arm-mounted null ray. If Ramjet was loose, and Slipstream in the building without him, she probably wasn't doing anything to help the Autobot cause. 'Glyph,' Red Alert commed, 'Warden's office, just to the west, check the prison data and security systems for interference!'
'But you -'
"Leave this one to me."
Ramjet saw Glyph dash to one side, and did not fire. "I do not want to fight you, Red, but I don't want to be a prisoner."
"I know."
"But it's your job to keep me here."
That was not specifically true, as she was medical staff, but there would be questions if it was obvious she did nothing to prevent an escape. "I know."
"You should leave. It is not safe." Ramjet hesitated before continuing, saw Red looked troubled. "We could go somewhere."
"No," Red Alert said firmly. She looked up and met his gaze. "I can't do that now, Ramjet."
He hadn't really thought she would, but he had hoped. Yet, Red has said 'now', so there was a chance she would be willing to go somewhere with him, at another time. "I -" Ramjet broke off just as Red Alert gasped, trying to suck air through her intake too quickly. Their motion and proximity sensors both detected the same danger. Ramjet pushed Red Alert against the north wall and shielded her with his body.
The slimy projectile missed them both, but just barely. Ramjet's engine roared, he trained his sensors and targeting systems on the big, squat Decepticon armored walker. He still did not understand what was going on. First he's following Starscream, then Megatron, then he's arrested, and now Starscream is supposedly dead, and his fellow clones are fighting Autobots and Decepticons alike. It was just impossible to process. He did not have enough data to satisfy his logic circuits. But, one thing he knew with absolute certainty was that some mech had just deliberately endangered his intended.
Ramjet committed to permanent memory the feel of Red's round digits clinging to the barest part of his arms, even as he tore himself away from her. "No frog is going to slobber on my princess!" he warned Spittor, and then flew at him, thrusters increasing his speed and thus the coming impact velocity. Ramjet kicked his legs around just as he reached Spittor and kneed the Decepticon in the side of his alt-mode's trap-like mouth. He continued, quickly kicking his feet toward Spittor's to singe his wide mouth and prehensile tongues with thruster burn, which simultaneously gave him purchase to launch himself into a backflip.
Facing Spittor again, Ramjet fired max-setting null ray blasts down his slime-producing gullet. Spittor seized and toppled awkwardly forward, tongue cables and slime spilling onto the floor. "I'm sure that's not the worst case of indigestion you've ever had," Ramjet said mock sincerity.
Red Alert's alarm sounded: woo woo woo. Embarrassed, she shut off the siren. She saw Ramjet looking at her so curiously.
"Oh, now's a great time to be drawing attention!"
Red Alert couldn't help it. Sometimes she just got so excited, so hyper and high-strung, as when she was a youngling; everything had set off her alarm. She was aware her dating subroutines were logging Ramjet's assets and flaws. In the worthiness calculation table there were two flaws listed: Decepticon, and doesn't like blue optics. Right now the subroutine was adding to his assets: very suitable protector, and avenged me upon Spittor.
"Ramjet, I'm sure the other Seeker clones came for you and Sunstorm. If you go, you can find them. I won't notice."
"As I was trying to say," Ramjet said as he approached, "I am not leaving you here unless I know you will be safe."
Red Alert shook her head. "Someone I want to protect, an Autobot, is trapped inside the maximum security block, trying desperately to keep Strika and Blackout from reaching Megatron and Shockwave."
"You said Smokescreen was nothing."
"No, I don't mean in that sense. The Warden -'
"The Warden?!"
"He's just...he's one of the Autobots who created me. I know it is not the custom of all Cybertronians to have sentiment for the ones who created them, but I feel a kind of love for him. We have always remained in contact. For a very long time we lived in the same household." Red Alert looked up defiantly, "Even if I had no duty to the prison, I would do all that was in my power to help him!"
"Then, I guess today I fight Decepticons."
"But you don't have to! You could be free, now!"
Ramjet shook his head, then straightened and looked along the corridor to where the two large Decepticons were battering the door. "If Clamp Down is kin to you, how can you find me worthy of your attention, if I do not give aid when he is in dire need?" Ramjet asked seriously, "He gave you life, contributed codes that make you what you are; he would not wish you harmed any more than I. I will do what I can to protect you both, for now."
"I truly appreciate this, Ramjet," Red Alert said. "I will not forget it."
As Red Alert and Ramjet moved along the corridor, Swindle spied from around the corner. Vortex was watching his back. They had gotten past what few 'troopers still functioned, while they were occupied with other escaped prisoners. "The kid's distracted the nurse for us," he whispered.
"Time we weren't here," Vortex said.
"Don't say that, Partner. You do want your rotor blades back? One more stop."
Vortex was sure Swindle's greed would get the better of him, again, in the future, but it was true he wanted his blades. He felt non-functional without them. And, he wouldn't mind recovering his glue gun.
Dirge was in the storage room still, when Swindle and Vortex entered. He knew them only from information in his pre-installed memory. Swindle was barely a Decepticon, despite his brand, and more of an arms dealer of questionable allegiance. Vortex was a Decepticon, but not particularly loyal to any one leader; he usually hired out his services to whichever group had need of an interrogator or some enemy prisoners.
"Looks like this kid beat us to it," Vortex said.
Swindle hated when anyone beat him to a score. "Hand over the weapons, kid," he said menacingly.