Disclaimer: Hasbro and Takara-Tomy own The Transformers. I just enjoy harassing their giant robots.
Warnings: (Insert excuse here)
Yeah, so this was supposed to be the last chapter posted at this time…. Life said no. Fun Fact about technology; it's notoriously unreliable so ALWAYS BACK UP YOUR SCRAP. My laptop crashed and lost several years' worth of data, including the end notes and the next four chapters…
On the bright side, second time writing is a charm…I hope.
It's the end of good things and this is where the plot begins to align with parts of Transcenders: Prelude. Heads up for impending doom and a scene with Lockdown cut down for content. I figured my brain went to too dark of a place and somethings shouldn't be put to digital paper.
Let Me Out—Hidden Citizens Feat. Rånya
"Betrayal"
His prey was occupied, going through the same motions he went through every cycle at this time. Yoketron dug through an old chest picking up each item, cleaning it off and then setting it aside with the utmost care.
Lockdown kept his cloaker up, creeping closer. It wouldn't take long, he reasoned. It would look like he'd disappeared. No one had to know. And the old mech could be back like nothing happened. The trick was subduing the martial arts guru before he could register what was going on. He rechecked the stun-gun at his hip; there would be only one shot at this…
"You're late, Lockdown." Yoketron stated simply.
He refused to flinch. Somehow…Yoketron had known… He could practically hear Prowl nagging him to pay closer attention during forms. Didn't mean he could give up that easily, though.
The mech turned around to look him directly in the optics, "Come here."
He could refuse, but couldn't exactly ambush him now, could he? Lockdown came forward and sat on his knees beside the elderly mech with a thump.
"How'd you know?"
"Cybertron whispers many things."
He made an unseen face. More of this metaphysical slag. "What, stray EM gave it away?"
Lockdown was ignored.
"If you're to kill me, I have a request first."
"'M not. Still plenty of bounties. Won't be hard to say I couldn't find you if you play along."
"Are you always this courteous with bounties?"
"No. If it were up to me, you'd be out by now. I've got personal interest here."
Yoketron nodded sagely, "I suppose I owe your friends gratitude for uncovering your better nature, especially the Praxian?"
"Yeah. If I could catch and return you, that would be great."
"It won't be any use. They're after energon and you know it."
"It was worth a try, don't want anyone to say I didn't. What was it you wanted again?"
Yoketron removed a weathered metal orb, bigger than a standard helm, and placed it firmly in his grasp, the item quickly fading into invisibility.
"Someone will be in touch to tell you where to deliver the package."
"You're really gonna trust me with it then..."
"You're a 'former of your word, I trust you to treat me with the same credos as a client." "Sure," Lockdown nodded.
"What do you ask in payment?"
"Just keep on teaching Prowl. Kid needs it."
The master had the nerve to look amused at his choice of wording.
"As long as I am able."
~o~o~o~o~o~
In hindsight, Prowl should have known something was wrong.
Lockdown was leaving, going off on a solo hunt.
Jazz said he owed some mech, designated Blitzer, credits. It had something to do with the semi-hauler heist they'd pulled, Lockdown was going to pay them off.
The green and black assured them they'd still have enough to make it off planet. It was almost like he didn't want to leave from the way he was acting. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he'd gotten attached to them.
This cycle, Jazz had duty with Mirage and Flamewar wanted to stay with Strongarm, so that just left he and Arcee.
In hindsight, he should have listened to her gut instinct and not gone down to Yoketron's. She never wanted to meet the martial arts master in his domain for some reason.
The first step into the dojo he smelled blood. After so many jobs, though, he'd been desensitized. Arcee bristled, but followed if only to keep him from getting lost in his helm down there.
Second mistake: they kept going.
"Should have just given the information, mech." A rust orange mech stood over the graying form of Yoketron.
Something snapped inside. He rushed the unknown mech with Arcee backing.
Maybe if they'd read the room, they would have picked up another energy signature. A dark femme took Arcee down with barely a whimper and the, now slashed up, mech held him down.
"What do you think, Nightbird? Good enough to take along?"
"Why not? They're running low on subjects again."
Prowl scraped the floor and managed to get hold of a shuriken, jamming it into the mech's ankle workings. He got a ped to the throat.
"You're pretty irritating, winger. I've got someone I'd like you to meet."
He called for help; help never came.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Jazz was grateful to be free of Mirage's ever-present surveillance for once. He finally had a chance just to be. The current Ops leader didn't silicone coat his distrust of him. 'Raj gave him a short leash and more projects than were necessary to tire him out, but Jazz wasn't scared of him. No, he was scared of what Mirage would do if he saw the haphazard mess in front of him.
Dead mech.
Dead mech, no Lockdown, and he couldn't find Arcee or Prowl.
His systems went rigid.
For a nano, he wondered if the virus had gone south and he was the last one to react, the others snapping and killing Yoketron. A more collected part of his training said that was unlikely. He couldn't scent, but the splatters were all wrong… Someone else had been here.
A door opened and he wedged himself inside a cluster of crystal growth. There was zero activity for a good joor, no sound either. Jazz used that time to attempt to hail anyone on their link. There had been a glimmer from Prowl a while ago, but since then, no signal back. The sick dread that accompanied not knowing sank into his lines.
He'd have to go after them, but he couldn't very well do it still in Wrecker/Spec Ops custody. Mirage was no doubt prowling around the dojo, just waiting. If he could just out wait him, he'd have a shot at escape.
Then the crystals he'd been nested in began to fold over, twisting and netting themselves beneath his limbs like a sentient trap. Caught off guard, he pushed his way out of the nest as quietly as his claustrophobia would allow him, right into the waiting arms of Mirage's latest toy.
Jazz refused to flail, opting to hang limp, "Sup, Hound."
He couldn't see the weird mech's expression from his spot, pinned against his bulky frame, but he felt the wash of unease through his field.
"Kid…you're in for it."
The "it" in question being strapped face down to the floor with a good bit of liquid made of who-knew-what bogging the interrogation room.
He held his helm above the muck, glaring at Mirage.
The once noble glared back, "Well, you want up or no?"
"I was down there a klik before you. I didn't have time to cover anything up. I can't find anyone either."
Whatever the former noble was about to say was cut off when he lost motor control. Jazz's vison blacked out and he got the worst stab of pain below his spark. The next klik, he was flipped over, propped against the wall. Someone was poking at his mouth and he slapped them away.
Perceptor leaned backwards, spark scanner in servo, "Are you with us?"
"Yeah? Wha?" It came out as a nasty croak. His vocalizer ached and there was a lingering taste of old oil in the back of his intake.
"You were screaming quite profusely," the microscope stated, "You have no memory of it?"
"Tha pain, yeah."
A grey servo touched his arm, "Prowl seized control for a kilk. Wherever he is, he's in pain. Did you see anything?"
Jazz concentrated. Normally, he'd get a flash of scenery, but Prowl was keeping him blocked off for a reason. Fleeting impressions turned into images, then glyphs.
"A spider." Something like raw terror seized him. Then pure rage followed. "A giant spider."
Mirage had fixed him with an unreadable look. "If I were to set you free could you find them?"
"I can find Lockdown," he snapped, sitting up taller. "I don't know where he went, but I'll get him back, the loser."
"Precisely what I wanted to hear. Hound—"
But the mech was nowhere to be seen.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Lockdown was having his worst cycle in two orns.
Something in his spark snapped and he'd been forced to make a move on his target early. Then Jazz started acting weird over bond. No one else was talking…it was quiet.
Outside his frame, he winced. There seemed to be endless deserted alleys crisscrossing Cybertron now that there was war, all of them full of ill intentioned 'formers. "Whoever you are, back off. Aint having a good time."
Springer stalked from out of the shadows, optics bright. This just kept getting better… "WHAT, mech?"
"You know what you did!"
Lockdown darted out of the way of the fist coming to smash his plates in, catching Springer in a helmlock. It wouldn't last, the triple-changer was still dragging him.
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking!" he wheezed as an elbow caught him in the tank.
"Yoketron's dead. And Prowl and 'Cee disappeared."
His ventilations and engine ticking were the only sound for a solid klik. "What?!"
"You didn't know." Springer hadn't been expecting surprise apparently. Whatever kinship they'd built was paying off.
"I've been on the trail of a bounty for a solid cycle, no recharge. No ones' talking to me. So, no. Kup know you're out?"
"That's where you've been…Nope. I thought I could catch you before you made it out of town. Makes enough sense, but why should I trust you?"
The obvious 'You-can't' was left unsaid.
"Hey, I like you, but you really make me think about sharp objects. Kinda a lot. You tracked me down, genius. Gonna help me out?"
"With finding them?"
"No, idiot, we're goin' window shopping…" he released the triple-changer, "We're going on a traveling hunt."
Springer nodded deftly.
"Ya actually gonna trust me?"
"Enough to follow you for a rescue. Roddy, c'mon!"
Silence.
"HotRod!"
A whimper came in answer.
In a nano, they were both armed.
"You brought Roadburn?"
"In case you weren't in a listening mood," he turned attention back to the corner, "Roddy, let's go!"
Instead, a bulky wolf-like thing, standing at their optic level, came around the corner with the flaming speedster in his jaws by the neck. He approached with a slow swagger, plating showing obvious signs of not being of Preda build with vehicle paneling decorating his frame.
Lockdown squared himself, "Drop him."
"Drop your arms, then." Hound rumbled back.
Springer cocked his rifle, taking a bead on his head, "DO IT."
The weird mech side eyed him, "Kup wouldn't be happy, you aiming at a brother in arms."
"You're Ops. You don't count."
"Believe me. You'll be in worse trouble if you shoot me, don't dig your graves any deeper. On three then."
Three nanos passed and they set their weapons down. Hound dipped his helm and set Roddy free, frame reverting back to his bipedal state. HotRod scrambled up, darting back over to their side.
"You're okay?"
"Sorta." The younger mech kept a firm grip on his throat, "He came up right behind me."
"I know. He got me too." Lockdown spat. Something was off about this mech. As far as he knew, he was with Spec. Ops, upstanding, friendly, easy-going, and unremarkable if not for his mods. All information that came from Jazz. Hound was also hard to pin down, he'd seen him a whopping five times since their stay. Maybe it was his paranoia around canid-builds, but he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.
The weird mech relaxed, "Now, what do you say we both explain ourselves?"
"Half our team is missing, someone's dead, and we're getting to the bottom of it," Lockdown snapped.
"I won't stop you. I know you didn't do it. There's no trace of your scent. Everyone else thinks you did. Including Jazz. I was sent to find you before he does. He's not happy."
HotRod stiffened.
"When is he ever when I screw up?" Lockdown snorted, "Didn't think Mirage cared enough."
Hound shook his helm, "'Raj didn't send me. Someone else wants to speak to you."
"Like who?"
"You wouldn't come with me if you knew."
"Can it wait?"
Hound nodded.
"Let's go then."
A joor later he was outside a closed energon dispensary shop on the curb covered in energon.
It had been vorns since something like this happened. Snapping wasn't professional...
He'd pinged Blitzer for a meet up. Blitzer answered and gave him the location. He walked in. Blitzer had two of his goons in there with him. Turns out they'd gone ahead and taken out Yoketron anyway, nabbing Prowl and 'Cee in the process.
They were making him weak anyway, he said. He would take their worth out of his IOU, he said. You're better than that, he said.
Blitzer wasn't remorseful; he thought it was funny.
Blitzer laughed.
Blitzer's faceplate got introduced to an unshielded energon grinder.
Going invisible and using his newly generated hook on the goons wasn't hard at all. He dragged the ringleader's demise out on purpose and was rewarded with information.
He sold them to a branch of the Autobots.
He had the data to prove it…the receipts...the photos…
Then he just walked outside and went through the pad he'd transferred them to.
He didn't hear the other three trying to get him lucid. When he finally came to Jazz had made it. He knew because of the pain in his helm.
The Poly straight up kicked him in it.
Hound snatched the raging youngling up who at this point looked more like a blur of parts.
"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO."
Lockdown pinched the bridge of his olfactory; choosing to ignore the ex-assassin. Slag, he needed a break. Oddly enough, there was only one 'former that attracted his attention. He handed the pad to Springer and stood, "Roddy, get back over here."
HotRod was standing at the door of the shop, staring. The guy was going to work himself into shock.
"There's a lot of energon."
"Yeah, three mech's worth. Stop staring."
Jazz settled down, "Wait. You killed them?"
"Those mechs sold 'em to the Autobots." He rolled his shoulders, "I got rough coordinates, but no lead to the actual site."
That got everyone's attention, but he didn't feel like explaining it. "You got a way to clean that up and a place to hole up, Hound?"
"I do."
"Good."
Springer read through the information, slowing down toward the end. "You don't think we should tell—"
"NO," he rumbled, "Until I know what's going on, no Autobots, and you'd better not be lying, Hound." Furious wasn't the word…he could feel a part if himself he hadn't grasped in a long time. And that was nothing. Just like in his family's shop. So, if he killed, he really didn't feel anything… Interesting.
The weird mech looked him, up and down. "We've got a long way to go."
Hound led them to a bolt hole before taking him off to wherever he meant to take them. Probably for the best. No one would look him in the optic. The mood only chilled further as the data-pad was passed around. Springer hadn't looked good at all. Jazz attempted to speak to him but he kept walking.
He hadn't known when they started that Hound would be taking him halfway to the core of Cybertron. It made Arcee's trip look like a walk in the park. There were gullies, sudden drops, and too steep inclines. He nearly collapsed three joors in. Spilled energon, exhaustion, and stress didn't mix.
Hound knelt in front of him, plugging some inhibitor chip into his systems. "There you go. You're coming back around."
"Yeah, so you can stop crowding me," Lockdown pushed his servo away only to find his own suspiciously clean like the rest of his frame. It was kinda like how Flamewar cleaned—
"You didn't."
"Hey, there are bigger monsters than you and me down here, you need to smell like the area."
He dropped to his beast-mode, beckoning him to get on.
"No way, freak. I'll walk."
"Awww, you thought I was asking permission. Boss doesn't like dozers." Hound dove beneath him, flipping him onto his back. So, he was stuck with a free wolf ride. Had Lockdown enough energy he would have made a bigger fuss. He settled for drifting in and out of consciousness.
Joors passed, but his traveling companion kept a steady, sure pace with no headlights.
"You seem stressed."
"Not in the mood." He picked at the itch in the center of his chestplates.
"Fine. Don't seem like you ever are."
Lockdown stared at where Hound's shoulder rotated trying to pick out where the vehicle began and the beast ended, "What even are you?"
"A friend and a mech given two alt-modes."
"By the guys were going to see?"
"Yes."
"You know Predas don't like hounds, much less steeljaws."
"That's part why I picked this mode. A little bit of each side to get by in each. I was working with the Autobots on security detail when I was approached by a Dread. I'd been watching the planet decay for vorns and they promised to find a way to preserve it."
"Didn't do a good job."
"No. But I trust their goals. I trust this Alpha's judgement."
"Double agent."
Hound nodded, "Someone has to be a go between to monitor those in power. The Dread like it when you have a clear goal, one you're committed to. Example: why are you here, riding me down to parts unknown?"
It came out easily.
"I'm so tired of the factions I don't care anymore. I just want to get away from it all... Its wasteful. I'm going to save them and then…I don't know… but I can't stay here. I won't stay with Autobots. I don't care what happens to the factions, but when they start in on my family, they're causing too many problems. Something has to stop."
Hound padded to a stop, finally letting him down, "Crankcase will like you."
There was a sharp scrape of talons. "What have I told you about making snap assumptions? Let me make my own judgement. "
Lockdown's vents stalled.
The voice belonged to a new mech that was all angles and points, his faceplate altered to an organic, insectoid design. What he recognized as long, braided spinal cabling adorned his helm, coming down to his waist. He nodded, bottommost fangs showing no hint of a smile.
"You do not fear me?"
His tank twisted itself into knots but he wasn't about to let him know that.
"Well, yeah, but my teammates are scarier. I got more questions than fear. You sent a scout to collect me and you've been surveilling us. I've been through this song and dance before. What can I help you with?"
Crankcase hummed, "Straight to the point. You wear the badge of an Autobot but you do not follow their teachings."
Lockdown looked down to realize he'd picked off half of his insignia, leaving the healing black metal visible. "'Cause they're not always right. My allegiance is temporary."
"Clarify."
"If I'm given a job, I do it, I get paid; let the idiots keep killing each other."
"What would you rather have them do?"
"Not consistently ruin my life."
The Dread adjusted his stance, secondary optics narrowing. "So, no loyalty. Even less empathy. You would consider betraying me for a better offer someday?"
Then it clicked. This was a job interview. Not an abduction…not an unveiled threat to join…at least for now he was considering him on equal footing.
"I'm greedy, not stupid. My friend, one of the kidnapped talked about your kind. I try not to make clients angry."
Just because he was getting a line dropped didn't mean Crankcase needed to know everything about them.
"Would you have any objection to working adjacent to a team with that purpose? You wouldn't be under official Dread law, merely a hire, free to do whatever on your own time."
"Nah, I'd welcome it. Someone mentioned you all were the backup guardians of Cybertron. I'd be happy to help."
"Out of love for your home?"
"No but it matters to the people I care about."
This was good. The mech seemed to like him…but.
"You have too many benefits. What's the catch?"
He nodded, "There is one caveat: will you leave your team?"
This time he couldn't hide the flinch.
"You've seemed to accept the fact you are a toxic component. You can work alone. What I will ask of you won't agree with your companions, they'll only hinder you. Would you willingly leave your team to allow them to develop away from you? Cut off all contact?" He asked again.
Lockdown open his mouth, then closed it, and repeated the actions. "I already left a family once before."
"Consider this an encore performance, then. Hone your craft outside of others convictions, then, if you have not died and they still want you, come back. If you can't bear to part with them…you can always ask them after you've reunited."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"So, that is a deal, bounty hunter?" the mech asked, extending a servo.
Tough times called for tougher measures. He returned the shake. "Deal."
Crankcase wore a muted smile of satisfaction and gave Hound a nod. "Now, let's do something about that atrocious marking job."
~o~o~o~o~o~
Sea of Rust
Roughly the Same Time
Bumblebee laid on his tanks, scribbling in an organic styled coloring book. It had huge, turnable pages instead of a solid screen. This one was his favorite; he could prop it up like a tent to recharge under sometimes. Right now, he was working on staying inside the lines.
Jackie said he was well within in his ability as a sparkling, being outside the lines was normal. He wanted to do better. Jackie wouldn't let him activate his suit, so he'd do this.
It had been a long project, Jackie just placed plating beneath his armor and let it heal into his frame. That process itched, but he'd said when it finished, he would be able to disguise himself as a different frame types—but he couldn't fly. Jackie had made absolutely sure to make that clear to him.
Bee got a surge of excitement. He loved it when he got to help with projects, especially testing. His guardian was prone to explosions… really prone. They routinely got fire extinguishers as presents. He still loved Jackie and wouldn't change a thing.
Something crashed in the next room. Bumblebee sighed and prepared to walk in on another spill. This time, there was a voice.
"Where's the project?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Orders to bring in your latest invention. Where is it?"
"Not here."
He hid in the air duct, pulling his book in behind him. Bee tuned out the ensuing argument, crash, and dull thud.
The silence was louder than what he would later realize was a gunshot.
He kept hiding through the chaos that followed.
Eventually, one of the other scientists, Skeeter, realized he wasn't there and came to fish him out of the vent. He rambled on about how everything was fine, Jackie would be okay, and they were being recalled to Iacon.
Bee didn't care. It didn't even bother him that Skeeter was handling his wings too rough. He just wanted his guardian.
They wouldn't let him see Jackie, though.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Letalis
Roughly the Same Time
She didn't even hear them come in. Perceptor turned off her major sensors in her wings after she'd been rescued to allow for repairs and didn't want to turn them on so soon. Her only clue something was off was Flamewar.
One klik she was running around with a thick cable, eager to play tug-of-war. The next, she sat eagerly, helm pointed to the wall.
"Hey, silly, I'm over here!"
The pup chirruped and danced around, like she did when one of the Delinquent Quad came through. That's what KD let her call them. Fratènite was too hard to say.
She frowned and followed a hunch. "Uncle Lock?"
"Hey, kid."
"She calls you 'Uncle'? Really?" a second voice teased.
"Shut up, its cute."
He and Springer flickered into existence. Strongarm relaxed almost as quickly as her processor found a reason to panic again. Lock's face looked a little different. His burn was more visible, his black lines more intricate—and his badge was gone.
Lockdown mussed her helm, "You're safe. I just got a new paint job."
Springer gave him a side optic, but said nothing.
That was enough to warm her up to her saviors again. "You're in big trouble. You fled the scene of a crime and you're suspected of murder. Springer, you've been listed as MIA."
The triple-changer seemed to be relieved that was all he was being charged with.
"Some bad things are happening we're going to do our best to fix them."
"Is that so?"
Beryl stood at the door, flanked by Kup. They weren't happy, that much she could see.
But they stopped.
Kup took another few steps forward, optics narrowed in concentration. He was reading his faceplate. "Lockdown, exactly what kind of trouble are you in?"
Something in his EM shifted. He felt cold.
"Come see for yourself, he'd like to see you too."
She didn't see much else. After a tense klik with Kup, Beryl swiped her up and left her with KD, saying something over comm that had the flier's systems running higher.
"Mind her femmeling, we'll see you later."
Strongarm hated when adults said that in that tone, it always meant someone wasn't coming back.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Femmeling: 17 vorns, frame type: undetermined vehicle mode, good health, no prior work done
Mechling: 17 vorns, frame type: Praxian—Enforcer pursuit, good health, no prior work done
500,000 credits
Paid to the order of: Blitzer
From: Autobot Innovative Division
No matter how many times Jazz went over the receipts, his processor still spat out the same message. What?
Betrayal was a normal part of business, but this? An attack from the organization they'd been led to trust? This hurt.
Lockdown came back with the weaponry he and Springer promised and with their circumstantial guardians. Jazz had expected a full-blown dressing down. Beside him, HotRod squared himself for the same. What they got was Beryl dragging them to a far corner and standing in front of them. Kup herded Springer over. Lockdown stayed in the middle of the room, expressionless.
Earlier he'd been gone for an entire cycle only to come back with no Hound, no faction mark, and even more dark emblems on his face.
"How did the Dread find you?" The old Terror asked.
"I found them. They offered to help get Prowl and 'Cee back."
Kup gave him the nastiest glare yet, "That's a load and you know it."
"Yeah, but that's all the explanation you need." Lockdown took a position against the opposite wall, ignoring the rest of them.
With a clearer helm, Jazz attempted to talk to him. ~ Are you okay? ~
~ So now you're concerned…I'm so touched. ~
~ Seriously, Lockdown. ~
~ You really believed I'd kill them, sell them out, after all this? I'm not you. ~
Low blow. ~ Will you just— ~
~ I'm done talking with no one to listen. If you still can't trust me now, I guess it's impossible, hmm? ~
He wasn't the type to be so petty… Jazz rubbed at his spark and then stopped. He was getting blocked from Lockdown's side of the bond as well…
:: At least tell me what's going on. ::
:: You'll find out just like everyone else. ::
The brief impression of who was coming didn't really do the actual mech justice. Dread was a really good name for their group.
Kup's plating flattened. "I thought you all were still infighting."
"Thought all your kind were extinct," Crankcase responded simply.
"Sorry to let you down," Kup frowned at the Dread, "So, to what do we owe this visit?"
"I was in the area retrieving an item of importance and happened across your young ally. It's an unfortunate story he told me about his friends being abducted by their own faction."
"How did—"
"It's true." HotRod said quietly, nudging him with the pad, "Lockdown got hired by the same mechs responsible."
"They're in quite a number of pieces last time I checked. You've got an optic for the murderous, as expected of a Terrorcon."
"Is that the reason why you marked him?" Beryl sniped.
"I only fixed his markings to reflect his new standing, a free agent of the ancients."
"What do you want of us?"
"An alliance. I 'd rather it be between fellow guardians of Cybertron than a lot of outsiders."
"I gave up my duty a long time ago."
"That may be true but your programming is it in place, is it not? Your frame craves it. We all can only benefit from this. You recover your younglings and police your faction, Lockdown gets his friends, and the Dread get to clean house on this crime against nature."
"How do you know what they're up to?"
Crankcase looked over his shoulder, "Acetone? Be a dear and come here."
A bedraggled patchwork mess of bright plating in the form of a mini-bot crept in, optics rooted to the floor. Every step seemed to cause her immense pain.
"The poor thing, she was so curious when she began," he cupped the listless mini's chin, "She actually found one of our operatives through a Predacon! Such determination should be rewarded… There was a noticeable disappearance of 'formers in a certain area and we planted her in the reach of what we assumed would be Autobot recruitment. It was not. They've been doing extensive research into creating the answer to Massicons. This is the result."
Acetone was a new build. Only a few vorns older than Prowl and Arcee and could have easily fit their receipt descriptions. Old enough to be of use, young enough to be reprogrammed without much of a hassle. She didn't seem right…her optics were so dim and her frame trembled with every word spoken.
Jazz's tanks sank. If they weren't already dead…they were in a lot of trouble.