Ironhide pressed his back against the inner wall of a trench belonging to that of Cannonball's division. Or belonged, rather. His cannons had been corroded by the rustic oil leaking from his wrists. He was panting, taking in as much air he could to cool his heated vents; his spark had been working double-time, and it was straining him to keep up. He heard the tapping of footsteps growing nearer to the sanctuary of his trench and raised his guard. A quick shot to the knees would surely be enough to stop them in their tracks, he thought. Before he could make a move, a voice called out from the source of the tapping.

'Hold your horses, bucko, it's me!'

Ironhide relaxed, if only somewhat, as Blackarachnia slid down into the trench next to him. She was cut up and bruised, but appeared as though she were in a finer working condition than he was. He guessed she had snuck around much of the action. Good for her. 'What's the situation like out there?' he asked.

'Everyone who isn't a part of Krok's division has either run off or kicked the bucket.'

'How many does he have left?'

'Krok? About twenty or thirty.' She raised her claws defensively, though on closer inspection they appeared to have been trembling. 'Now don't let me get in the way of your carnage infused onslaught against forces twenty times your size, but... You can try what you like. As for me, I think I'm just about done with this whole killing and dying thing.' She paused for half a second. 'I guess this is what Optimus was talking about, huh.'

Ironhide squinted at her. It wasn't nearly as catastrophic as the invasion of Earth, but Ironhide could empathize with Blackarachnia's understanding of it. She was forced to watch the entire slaughter from the Tidal Wave's surveillance monitors. So little for her to do except use one of Bludgeon's greatest weapons on his own troops. She had been forced to watch what she might have once considered her comrades tear each other apart, either fueled by Bludgeon's dogma or by Prime's, when she wasn't causing the carnage herself. It wasn't like Earth, but Ironhide understood. This was Blackarachnia's 'Earth'. Just as Earth was the biggest battle Optimus had ever seen, Theopany was this to Blackarachnia. He chose not to respond to her last point and nodded gruffly. 'Then I suppose now would be a good time to call down the Ark.'

Blackarachnia poked her head over the edge of the trench, scanning the no-man's-land for signs of attack al-the-while humming skeptically over the uncharacteristic silence it brought. 'Oh right, Jazz and the boss say they'll be here any second now. Did you hear? They took down Bludgeon.'

'As a matter of fact I did.' He looked off to the side. 'Not like I had any doubts in the first place.'

Blackarachnia stared at him, then grinned her sardonic grin. 'Of course you didn't, big lug.'

Voices popped in the distance. They sounded muffled at first, but with each passing word clarity washed over them. 'We're almost there! Eyes up, guns ready and mouths shut; we're doing this right or we're not doing this at all.'

'That's Krok,' Blackarachnia whispered. 'Any plans, mister experience?'

He readied his cannon. 'Just a few trick-shots I've been meaning to test out.'

She shot him a wry look. 'Come on now, we could actually die this time. You can at least try showing yourself some self-respect.'

'We'll be fine, Blackarachnia. We have to be.'


Krok marched down the center of the corpse-strewn battlefield. Crankcase and Fulcrum stood at either side of him while the rest followed closely behind. What fliers remained hovered overhead, scouring the ground for survivors.

'Krok!' Spinister called from above. 'I'm detecting three energy signatures emerging from the smoke up ahead.'

'Can you ID them?'

'I… yes. I'll send you the feed via mental-link.'

'Received.' Krok frowned. 'Oh no…'

The image was clear enough. Two of the three signatures were Optimus Prime and Jazz. The third, however, existed cradled in Optimus Prime's arms. Bludgeon had been reduced to his smallest inner components. His pretender shell was gone. His equipment was gone. Bludgeon was nothing more than a rotting exoskeleton no bigger than Optimus himself. His limbs were like bone, and his head was only partly formed. Below where his nose would be was nothing but wire that would curve into his neck. He looked as though he could fall apart at the softest touch.

Soon, Optimus emerged from the smoke, and the state of their former commander was known to each member of Krok's division.

'Attention Decepticons!' Optimus blurted out. 'Your leader is in our custody. Most of your comrades are dead. Fighting to make him anything more than he already is, is futile.'

Krok felt something sickening rise from his fuel-pump.

Blackarachnia and Ironhide crawled out of the trenches and joined their commander as he continued his speech. 'If you wish to attack us now, you may, but I guarantee you, Bludgeon will not survive.'

Crankcase leaned in towards Krok. 'I say we attack. There's no way he's getting away with all of this— not without a smoking lump between his shoulders. Besides, Bludgeon was never that kind to us anyway.'

He placed a hand on the Dread Commander's shoulder and squeezed. 'Crankcase, if we weren't doing this for Bludgeon…'

'Krok— dammit, you're hurting me!'

'… Then what in the ever-loving pit have we been fighting for?' Krok released his grip and moved Crankcase to face the blazed city that surrounded them.

Crankcase stared at the pile of cadavers lining the trenches. He stared at the patches of flames, having already spent their lives and slowly flickered towards death. He stared at Bludgeon and nodded. 'Fair point… we're still going to kill them though, right?'

'I don't—'

'We don't need to fight any longer,' Optimus bellowed. 'We only want to leave. There's no reason for us to perpetuate this needless bloodshed, not unless one of you plan on becoming Supreme Commander in Bludgeon's place.'

As Prime's words hung in the air, the remaining Decepticons turned their attention to Krok.

But the military strategist would only stare forward, terrified of the implications. Of any implication that he would be responsible for anything remotely of the scale. It was like when they would joke about "Misfire: Emperor of Destruction", he was not far off. He was Krok. A former sportsman who signed up with the Decepticons on a whim. He was a grunt that got lucky one day and fell into Bludgeon's cadre where through sheer competence he found himself where he was. He was Krok, and he was not ready.

'No,' Krok said. 'No. We won't—You're right. There's no reason for us to—'

The wind roared as a large black shadow overtook the city. Optics blazed upwards and fires extinguished as a massive black mass eclipsed the sun and the roaring purple engines of a warship brightened the sky in its place. The Nemesis had emerged from its hangar and hovered overhead. Flaring its mass and dominance over the small Decepticon squadron below. If a fight were to continue, the Nemesis would eviscerate them all.

Ironhide pumped his cannons. 'Dammit, I thought you said the Nemesis was powerless!'

'It was!' Jazz replied, pausing in between. 'Only way that thing is possibly running is if they sapped what's left of the city's power-conduit.' He paused, realizing he unintentionally answered their questions. 'Which… is actually probably what they did.'

'I guess if Bludgeon wasn't using it…' Optimus trailed off.

Jazz pointed to the glowing engines rotating on its underbelly. 'See that smoke? Even with the power-conduit in place it don't look like they've got a full tank. You ask me, I'd say they're still running on fumes.'

'Then we have a chance?' Blackarachnia asked.

Jazz grinned. 'Pff, you see the size of that thing?'

A panel opened on the Nemesis' hull, and the sleek form of Starscream's jet-mode burst out and soared down before the two parties. He transformed midair, activating his thrusters and hovering over his subjects. 'Optimus!' He called, spreading his arms wide. 'You've made quite the mess, haven't you?'

Optimus frowned, wincing as Bludgeon's joints locked up. 'Gloating, Starscream? How original.'

'Ehh, yeah, yeah. Cliches, character archetypes… whatever. You see, the Nemesis is in a rather poor condition, and I'm afraid I have better uses for it than making you lot scatter around for another five minutes.'

That just left Optimus confused. 'Such as?'

Starscream looked to Krok. 'According to Wingspan's data, several energy spikes have been appearing outside this planets solar-system. At the time, Bludgeon was too pre-occupied with the destruction of Optimus and the capture of Rosanna to do anything about it. After all, what could possibly be the risk of just a few energy spikes?' He chuckled. 'No seriously. It's bad news.'

'What is out there, Starscream?' Optimus demanded.

'I'll leave that for you to figure out. But a word of advisory, now that Bludgeon's railguns are down, I would use the opportunity to your advantage and get the heck out of here as soon as possible. After all, I need you alive if I want to kill you later.'

'Wait!' Krok shouted. 'Wingspan found those reports days ago—how long before whatever's out there reaches us?'

Ironhide was aiming his cannon at the Seeker's forehead, waiting for a reason not to fire. 'And just when the hell will you tell us what you know and quit being such a—'

'Now why in the world would I bother with something as trivial as that?' Starscream drawled, smiling wide. 'They'll be here in about three minutes.'

'What?!' Optimus stammered.

'Toodles!' Starscream disappeared back into the Nemesis before anyone could add another word.

As the Nemesis prepared to warp, Krok rallied his forces. 'Decepticons, retreat! Take to the desert!'

Spinister reported. 'The desert, sir?'

'I don't trust this city anymore. Honestly I doubt it can protect us from anything. If we scatter across the desert then we can at least ensure the survival of a majority.'

'And Bludgeon?'

Krok activated his megaphone before turning to run towards the gate. 'If you want to save Bludgeon, do so. If not, we'll leave him in the Autobots hands for now. For his safety.'

They moved as one with Krok, making their way out through the city's gate in seconds and rolling onto the outer Theopian desert. But none of them came for Bludgeon.

'Aww hell,' Blackarachnia sighed. 'We're going to die, aren't we? I betcha Unicron's coming—or the Fallen, or some resurrected version of Megatron calling himself Ga—'

Optimus hushed her with the palm of his hand. 'No, no. I think I know what's coming. And by Primus it's worse.'

'—himself Gavin. No?'

'What if Starscream was just messing with us? What then?' Ironhide asked.

Optimus rested Bludgeon onto the ground, posturing him as if he were on his deathbed. 'Better safe than sorry. Besides, I believe him. We need to get out of here fast, and luckily…'

The Ark swooped down from above, hovering just high enough above the ground for the four Autobots to board. As soon as they touched the metal of the Ark's floor, the Autobot freighter took flight; elevating towards the planet's atmosphere.

'… I have an awesome space ship that can warp as it pleases.'

'You waited until we got into the Ark and took off to finish that sentence?' Blackarachnia asked, kneeling on the floor.

Optimus turned to her and shrugged.

Jazz smirked. 'Seems to me the chief may have some memory problems. The kind that come with age, y'know? Like he forgot he was talking in the first-place and—'

Optimus chuckled. 'Jazz, did you know this ship has over seventy airlocks? They're there in case someone needs to leave the ship while still in mid-flight. I'll show them to you—you'd love them, I promise.'

'Guys.' Rosanna's voice boomed over the comm. 'Yeah, I know you told me to just leave the Ark on autopilot and all, but, uh, it's giving me all these readings telling me something positively MASSIVE is about to warp straight above us.'

'Uh oh.' Optimus, Jazz, and Ironhide transformed into their vehicular modes and raced to the bridge, and, as Blackarachnia had no vehicle mode to call her own, the spider merely walked.

Arriving first, Jazz took Rosanna's side over the front-view monitor and examined the readings she spoke of. 'What's the brief?'

Rosanna flinched. 'Whoa. You're pretty close—I mean, well, see for yourself.'

Optimus and Ironhide arrived next. The former of which made a bee-line for his command chair and entered in a set of randomized co-ordinates for warp. 'If it's what I think it is then we should be getting an Autobot reading.'

Jazz stepped back upon examining the code. 'Huh, well whaddyou know? It is an Autobot signature. Multiple of them.'

'Well that's good, right?' Rosanna asked, looking to the others for support. 'Uh, that means they're friends, right?'

Optimus frowned over his lap. He closed his eyes. 'Ironhide, Jazz… get us out of here.'

'Wait, what?'

But the Ark's power-core had already been set aglow, and its thrusters had activated their warp-functions. Tapping into the nearest space-bridge conduit, the Ark shot into a burst of light and disappeared altogether.

In its place warped hundreds of warships. Silver and sleek, and studded with blasters fresh off Wheeljack's supply line. Still warm and scented with that newly manufactured musk that gun-lovers like Roadbuster and Atomizer loved. The helm ship took the lead, entering the atmosphere with its guns warmed to fire. A voice boomed from the head speaker. 'This is Military General Prowl of the Autobot Army with the third legion of the Autobot Aerospace legion under my command. In the name of the Tyrest accord, the Autobot Code, and the acting Magnus Ultra— you are under arrest.'

There was a silence on the bridge as the fleet awaited a response. When there wasn't, Prowl spoke once more. 'Prime?'

Silence.

'Prime, you are under arrest.'

Silence.

'Please answer me.'

Silence.

Prowl cursed under his breath so that the others wouldn't hear him break his composure. 'He's not here.'

The bridge sighed collectively. They had spent hours organizing themselves over nothing.

'I'm detecting some signals.' Hubcap reported from his comms chair. 'You, uh, think it might be worth taking a look-see?' He turned in his chair to face Prowl. He had to look up, as the captain's chair was leveled higher than the rest. 'I mean, even if the guy we're looking for isn't really here, we can still investigate the other Cybertronian life-signs in the area.'

Prowl nodded, though it was clear to everyone that he was upset by the turnout.


Prowl stood among the core-search team of the fleet. A battle had occurred only moments ago. That was clear even without the piles of bodies littering the area. For all he knew any one of those charred bodies could have belonged to Optimus. No. He realized. We would know if he had perished. He strode to Sonar, who had been in some discussion with Hubcap and Punch. Sonar, Hubcap, Searchlight, Rollout, and Punch made up his command staff. They were high members of Mirage's intelligence committee, and thus knew about as much as he did on the kinds of operations he had taken place. He also trusted them to a degree, unlike most others under his command. 'Any signs of life?' Prowl asked.

Sonar replied, 'Yes, albeit very few. Electro has reported a heavily damaged survivor found lying on the ground. We don't have any ID yet, but we do know they are a Decepticon.'

'They're all Decepticons.' Hubcap exclaimed. 'This was some nasty civil war slag that went down. I didn't know they were even allowed to do that!'

Prowl cocked his head to the side in consideration. 'If what Arcee says is true, then it is entirely possible that Prime's presence garnered this kind of slaughter.'

'Yeah, no kidding,' Punch added. 'It's not unlike the Decepticons to sport some infighting. Especially when it comes to leadership. This though?' He whistled at the piles of dead. 'If this is Optimus Prime's doing then he sounds just as bad as you say, Prowl.'

Prowl didn't like the sound of that. It didn't sound like Optimus whatsoever. Thankfully the most likely possibility was that Prime had passed through, and the conflict was entirely out of his hands. He was far from a sadist, after all. Really, he was undeserving of his status as the most wanted Cybertronian alive, so Prowl believed.

'Yo! We got one!' It was Rollout. The large Autobot bounded towards the group with Searchlight and a few others under his command. Under his arm he carried a tall Decepticon who looked relatively less tall when situated under a large, babbling Autobot's armpit. 'I found this guy sneaking around!' He bragged. 'Thought I'd tussle him up a notch, but whaddyou know—'

'Yeah, yeah, I came willingly,' The Decepticon said. 'Gosh. Y'know, if you really wanted to duke it out I'd kick your a—Oh, hey Prowl. I thought I smelt your aft around here.'

Prowl frowned. 'Banzaitron.'

'Been a while, hasn't it, partner?'

Prowl turned to Sonar. 'Get me a gun.'

Banzaitron squirmed out of Rollout's grip and began dusting himself off. 'Whoa now, Prowl. No need for that—'

'You're a Decepticon, Banzaitron. A famous one at that.'

'Yes, and you're an Autobot. Hasn't stopped us from working together in the past though.' He grinned beneath his slender face-plate. 'Has it, Prowl?'

Prowl called off the order with the wave of his hand before placing his full attention on the Decepticon. 'So what? You think we'll just let you go?'

'If you want to continue receiving the information from me that you oh, so desire, yes.'

Rollout guffawed. 'HAH! Yeah right. Like you're gonna "buy" your freedom from Prowl. It's over, con!'

'How many are with you?' Prowl asked.

'Two. Axer and Treadshot, are their names. They're with me now. The rest were killed off by Bludgeon.'

'Bludgeon?' Hubcap nearly choked. 'He's still around here?'

'Alive, too. Not in very good shape, but alive. I wouldn't be surprised if you found the bastard already.'

'Uh huh.' He signaled the helm ship prepare for departure. 'You can ride with us. You'll tell us everything you know about what occurred here, and in exchange we'll drop you off somewhere you won't be recognized.'

Banzaitron grinned. 'That sounds just positively lovely.'

Rollout stared at Prowl, puzzled. 'Wait, you're serious?'

Prowl sighed. 'A deals a deal. We benefit him, he benefits us. That's how mercenaries work.' He scratched the back of his head as he led Banzaitron to the ship. 'The real problem at hand is how I am going to explain all of this to Magnus when we return.'


Cannonball awoke with a start. A dream? A dream. Yes, there was no way his prized ship the Tidal Wave could have possibly—

'Oy, the Captain's awake,' Finback cawed to the rest of the group.

'Oh.' Cannonball was lying still on a stretcher pulled by Crowbar and Finback. They had lost after all. He couldn't tell what his crew had numbered to, but he was sure it was salvageable. 'Get me Brimstone!' He announced groggily. Things would be back on track in no time.

'Brimstone's dead.' Crowbar told him.

'Oh.' That sucked. He tried to think of who was next in charge, but dared not ask in case they were dead too. 'Erm, who have we lost, Finback?'

'A few…' Finback muttered. 'Krok took the majority off with him. We kind of just followed suit with what was left.'

'Names, Finback. I want names!'

'Aye, sir. Lessee… Thundertron wasn't dead when we found him, but with his age catching up it was only a matter of time before... We ended up having to leave him there in favour of you…' He shook his head. 'Old boy was gonna die at any second. I told him that all the time. Still, he had a few good years left in him. A damn shame they'll have to go to waste.'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever. Who else?'

'We never found Ferak's body. Wingspan, Pounce, and Axer abandoned us for Banzaitron and the rest, and, well, you know what? That's all you need to know. Anyone who's not here is already dead.'

'I see. Wait.' Cannonball sat up with a jolt, and looked around him. Where was his crew? Where were his loyal subjects? 'You're kidding me.'

'We're all that's left.' Crowbar explained. 'Just you, me, Finback, and—'

'And me.' Tornado answered. Limping alongside the stretcher.

'Only three left…' Cannonball lowered himself back onto the stretcher and went limp. 'Only three…' His mind went blank.


'How many times have I repaired you this week?' Optimus asked, placing his laser scalpels back into their dish and washing his servos. 'Because it feels like I've had to fix you periodically.'

Blackarachnia shrugged, sitting up on the slab as she did. 'Whatever, man, I'm a delicate flower worthy of universal affection. 'S why I got fixed before Ironhide did.'

Ironhide grunted from across the room. He had been leaning against the farthest wall within the med-center of the Ark; watching as Optimus acted his part as medic/leader of Team Prime.

'Nothing to say, Ironhide?' She chuckled. 'Jealous because I'm the new favourite?'

He grunted again. 'We forgot Bludgeon.'

Optimus nearly dropped one of his newly polished scalpel. 'Crap.'

Blackarachnia frowned up at him. 'You didn't leave him on purpose?'

He smirked, waving his scalpel at the former Decepticon. 'Nah, I'm just kidding around. Yeah, I did.'

'Huh,' Blackarachnia stared forward. 'I guess we left him to die after all.'

'Not exactly,' Optimus replied. 'His safety is guaranteed as soon as Prowl arrives—which he must have by now. He'll be in the Hub's prison hold or a Garrus complex in no time.'

Ironhide moved away from the wall. 'Those Autobot signals…'

Optimus nodded. 'An Autobot armada, yeah. Prowl must have led it in search of me.'

'How would he find us?'

'I…' Optimus lowered his head. 'I have a few theories, but I can't say I want them to be true.'

'Maybe it's a traitor,' Blackarachnia said casually. She stretched her head back so she could face the door. 'I wonder where Jazz went.'

Optimus stared at her. 'What?'

She stared back. 'What?'

'Why did you say that?'

'Say what?'

'You wondered if there was a traitor, and then asked where Jazz was.'

'So?'

'So I'm inclined to believe you're insinuating something. And for both our sakes, I hope you're not.'

She grinned. 'Maybe I am. Is it going to sway your judgement? No? Didn't think so.'

Optimus slammed his fist against the edge of her slab, causing her to jolt upward and onto her feet. 'You still don't trust him? After he saved our lives? Your life?!'

'I take it no matter what I say you'll still disagree.'

'He stopped the Dreads! He literally took a bullet for the team!'

'So he's officially on our team, now?'

'Yes. No… I don't know yet.' Optimus brought his palms to his face. 'Why?'

'Why don't I trust him?'

He shot her a glance from the cracks between his fingers that read "what else could I mean?"

'Decepticon intuition. A survival instinct, you could call it. You keep yourself around an untrustworthy bunch for long enough and you begin to pick up on what makes them untrustworthy.'

Optimus threw his hands in the air. 'I should have expected as much.'

'Then you tell me, why do you trust Jazz?'

Optimus glared at her through icy optics. He could barely believe he was being asked such a question. 'Because… well… it's Jazz!'

'Uh huh.'

'He taught me how to fight!'

'I was taught by Shockwave. Y'know, the Decepticon who collapsed an entire universe with his bare hands? Er, hand, but y'know…'

'He's been a loyal member of the Autobots for decades!'

'Technically every member of the Autobots is a "loyal member". You don't just accept treasonous people to be a part of your armed forces. Even the treacherous don't last long in the Decepticons. They exist, but they get away with it by hiding the evidence. Usually we don't learn about their treachery until after they're found out. Technically—or rather, officially, everyone's loyal as long as they're not found out. Even Starscream, officially, at least, is a loyal Decepticon. He hasn't assassinated any superiors, as far as anyone can tell, and he hasn't betrayed his followers so much as he just treats him like slag. He's just notorious for being extremely critical of Megatron's government—which is exactly why Megatron made him his second in the first place. If anything, Starscream is more honest than any of us.'

Optimus wanted to scream, but he couldn't think of the words to express it.

'Okay, easy question. How well do you know Jazz personally?'

Easy, Optimus thought. 'He's good natured, calm, effective. He likes music. He's made me laugh in the past. He's good at his job. He's a member of the Elite Guard. He's friendly—'

'None of that describes who he is, though. Not the way you perceive it. "He likes music" most people like music, you know. Just because I'm not constantly listening to something doesn't mean I like music any less than he does. And calm? Good natured? Really? No one's calm, Optimus, we're in a goddamn war for Primus' sake. You tell me someone's good natured and calm to their very core and I'll call you a liar. What does he fear? What keeps him up at night? What was his upbringing like? Oh, what are his political views? You can always tell a lot about someone based on their political views. Is he a part of the conservative majority of the Autobots, or is he like you—jaded by the contradictions present in both factions?'

Somehow imagining Jazz with having any sort of political opinions made him feel sick, though he knew he must have had some ideas, he could not explain why it bothered him so.

'There, see? That face you just made—you don't want a person, you just someone to tell you you're right! You don't want to have to deal with real people with feelings and opinions! For someone who focuses so much on the grey aspects of the Autobot Decepticon war, you like to think pretty one-dimensionally when it comes to the individual participants. I guess Prowl's a completely evil, irredeemable villain as well, right?'

Optimus searched his brain for an answer to her, fingers digging into the palms of his hands until dents began to form. He was shaking with rage, when suddenly, all of it stopped. He brought a hand to his face, and laughed. 'I just realized… I don't know why I'm even having this conversation…' His fingers dragged down the curves of his face before dropping to his side. 'You're the Decepticon here.'

Silence.

The three stood staring at each other. Their faces as blank as the day they were manufactured; the look they had moments before their sparks came to life and they made their first expressions.

'You know…?' Blackarachnia's mouth curved into a sideways grin. 'In spite of everything, I never expected you to stoop that low.'

'What?' Optimus spun around to Ironhide. 'Come on, Ironhide, help me out here.'

'I completely agree with everything you said,' Ironhide told him. 'I think it's silly to assume that everyone or anyone can be a traitor or a spy just because you don't know them well enough—'

'See?'

'—but as your friend I have to say that was the most immature thing I've heard you say in a long time.'

Blackarachnia had already begun to leave and was practically already out the door.

Optimus stared at the black Autobot, baffled. 'You're kidding me—you've called Blackarachnia a Decepticon ever since you first laid eyes on her!'

Ironhide slowly walked past him. 'I stopped seriously cussing her out weeks ago. I don't particularly like her yet the way I like you, but at least the feelings are mutual. We criticize each other because it's one of those things that keeps us sane. You can say it comes hand in hand. You said what you said because you didn't want to lose an argument. And yet you actually believed it when you said it. Ad hominem, Optimus.'

Optimus tried to think of an explanation or an excuse, but Ironhide was already nearing the door, and Optimus knew Ironhide would not listen. Still, he desperately wanted him to stay. 'I haven't repaired you yet,' Optimus whispered.

'You can do it later. I'm tired. I'm going to go lay down.'

And he was gone. Optimus stood in the center of the room, alone and angry. He turned around, and scanned the tall glass medicine cabinet pressed against the wall. With a roar, he grabbed the cabinet with both hands, and threw it across the room. The cabinet shattered as it hit the floor, capsules of specialty medicine spilling out and over the gold panelling of the Ark.

He stood, hands trembling, staring at the mess he made. It would take a long time to clean up, he realized.