CHAPTER: INTERRUPTION - "Raiders of the Lost Prison"
CONTINUITY: Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye | IDW Comics
RATING: PG for big dumb robots.
SUMMARY: Three Raiders look for Barracks.
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement and the fact that the Scavengers don't receive nearly enough attention as they ought to.


"Cripes, I hate this place."

Coming here was definitely not his idea, but when the orders are, apparently, coming down from top? One does not simply argue, even if Ransack's idea of a good time isn't hanging around some punk kid and someone who's been online so long that he probably went to university with Alpha Trion, much less so in the ruined remains of Styx.

Ransack kicks aside some scrap metal as they walk through the hall.

"I'm waiting for you to report in," Ransack hears Spoilsport's voice pipe up from one of his teammate's communicators.

The way-too-old guy raises his wrist. "Sweep, reporting in with Ransack and Brushfire. There isn't much to say yet, sir. We didn't see any sign of Barracks' shuttle. We're investigating right now."

"Keep me up to date. Burnout is getting on my case about it. You know how he gets when he's promised."

"Of course. Sweep, out." Just as the dull looking four-wheeler shuts off his communicator, Brushfire gives a big sigh.

"Ugh, I can't stand that guy," Brushfire gripes as he folds his arms. "And this place is boring. What the hell did this even used to be?"

Ransack snorts. "What, you don't know? Sweep, tell him. You're full of boring stories."

"He wouldn't know," Sweep muses, completely ignoring any suggestions of insults. "But this was Decepticon prison. The entire planet. A prison for their own men, transformed into a camp to reformat their prisoners into living weapons. They would die for Megatron, if that's what he wanted. It was ages ago, but I remember it well."

"Like it was yesterday, right?" Brushfire teases. "Anyway, why did Barracks go all the way here? What was he looking for?"

"Don't worry about that," Sweep tells him, shaking his head. "Just keep your head down and look for any signs of what he may have left behind."

Right. That was at least smart of him. It was better to not get too inquisitive, at least not out loud. Joining the Raiders years ago after leaving his home was supposed to be a big adventure, and it was for awhile. In the end, though, it just became a giant joke. Pillaging stations and taking goods? That was fine enough, but there were other things that bothered Ransack.

Things that he'd rather not think too hard about right now, but he can attribute them directly to their leader.

The more they explore what's been left over, the more that there are clear signs of a struggle. Spilled energon, explosions, broken doors and walls. All of that is clear, but none of that quite clearly explains what happened to Barracks yet.

Not until they come upon the burnt remains of one of the cells in the prison block. Someone planted a bomb, and so little remained, but it's hard to ignore the various bits and parts of what used to be a person.

"Let me have a look," Sweep says calmly.

Gladly, Ransack backs off and pulls Brushfire back by the arm. Kneeling down, Sweep starts to rearrange the parts like a puzzle. Pieces of a tread here and there, an arm to part of a shoulder, pieces of a chest, an eye...

Eventually enough to assemble together enough of a person.

"Hell," Ransack mutters.

"Jeez, you're good at that!" Brushfire says much more enthusiastically.

Sweep dusts off his hands. "Barracks. Not much left of him. Hardly a head at all, but I remember the rest of his body."

"So someone killed him, right?" Brushfire looks from Sweep to Ransack. "Right?"

"Nah, I'm sure he died naturally," Ransack says flatly. "Just a bad case of explosionitis. Spoilsport's gonna hate this."

"Burnout will hate it more," Sweep warns. "But that's not our problem if we do what we're told."

Ransack coughs. "Right. Well. I'll leave the reporting to you. I mean, if I do it, he's just gonna glitch at me until his jaw falls off."

"Mm." Sweep rolls his eyes. "Go look around and see if you can find anything that might appease Spoilsport. I'll take the time to talk to him. Run along."

Right, well, Ransack is all too glad to do that. As long as it doesn't mean getting chewed out by Spoilsport.

Or worse.