Adrift SPECIAL

by Echowarrior

This is the story of the angry young mech who grew into a calm and tranquil warrior, and found where he belonged. This is the story of how Deadlock died, and how Drift was reborn.

Adrift

A Transformers: Armada Story

By William Rendfeld

Pyro hated the tunnels that ran beneath Cybertron's cities. He understood perfectly that they were essential for maintenance purposes, that they helped to provide power to places across Cybertron, that going down into them was common enough for maintenance mechs and up, but nonetheless, he hated them with a passion. Well, not so much hated them as hated being in them. Other mechs in the security forces would no doubt laugh, but the young mech always had a chill race up and down his servos each time he ventured into them, no matter who he was with.

"There aren't any scraplets down here. You can relax."

That he was with Streetwise only helped matters so much. "It's not scraplets I'm worried about. Well, not specifically. Let's face it; this is a dark and creepy tunnel. There could be anything down here."

"One of thousands criss-crossing this planet that I've mapped, catalogued, and surveyed. The only things that we need to worry about down here are Megatron's goons, and nothing more."

The younger mech shook his head, anything but calmed by the elder's words. His senior was an excellent investigator and a dogged pursuer, but the sort you wanted consoling you? That wasn't Streetwise. His calm, unflappable, deadpan demeanor could only do so much to distract you from your own proper paranoia, especially given the fact that the service tunnels tended to be the only safe method of travel for Megatron's forces. They could run into anyone down here, from Megatron himself to Clench to Mindwipe to…

"DIE AUTOBOT SCRAPLETS!"

An intense barrage of blaster shots heralding his entrance, a lithe Decepticon with bulky armor and twin blaster pods built into his arms jumped in front of the two Autobots, another pair of Decepticons clearly built with aircraft as alternate modes rushing in behind them, one armed with twin handheld cannons and the other with a charged electro-trident.

The two Autobots ducked and hid behind cover as quickly as they could, but couldn't avoid many of the stray shots that came their way, one grazing Pyro's leg and another tearing through Streetwise's wing-like sensor array. Cover attained behind an archway, the two readied their weapons.

"Three of 'em; spark signatures match for Deadlock, Jetblade, and Terradive!"

"Well, Clench's XO and a pair of his minions! Can't get much worse than that!"

"Actually, it could! We could be dealing with Clench himself! If that was the case, this little scheme wouldn't even be worth trying!" Photon rifle ready, the investigator turned to his young partner. "You ready?"

Pyro's arm cannon whirred online. "Just give me cover!"

Streetwise nodded before he spun out of hiding and ducked low, finally opening fire upon the Decepticon trio, his partner spinning into view and firing a fine mist upon their attackers. A canister spent and the trio stumbling back from the mist, both Autobots then dropped visors over their optics as a rocket fired from one of the senior mech's shoulder cannons, streaking into the air before exploding and engulfing the entire area in blinding white light. The two Autobots turned, transformed and sped down the tunnel as the Decepticons recovered their senses.

His optics trying their hardest to reboot after the rocket flash, Deadlock shouted back down the tunnel at the escaping Autobots, waving his fist in frustration and defiance. "That's right! Run, you Autobot cowards! You're only delaying the inevitable!" Vision slowly returning, he turned to face his comrades and said, "We could've had them! We could've taken them down, and then –!"

"And then what?" Stumbling out of hiding, unseen in the firefight and recognized by his grating, whining voice, Crankcase looked to his superior and bitterly vented, "We weren't even supposed to start a firefight! Our orders were to do recon! We weren't supposed to shoot unless we got shot at first, but no! You had to go and add a couple more Autobots to your kill count! Clench is not going to be happy about this, Deadlock!"

Optics narrowed, the ruthless Decepticon approached his subordinate. "And who's going to tell him what happened? You?"

"Slagging right! He might not listen to me – Primus knows no one does – but someone has to relate just how much of a fiasco this mess was, and it might as well –!"

Crankcase's rant was interrupted by a swift backhanded slap from Deadlock, the blow shattering part of his optic bar and sending him flying into one side of the tunnel. Battered and disoriented, the wounded Decepticon attempted to get back to his feet only to get kicked back onto the ground and have his left hand crushed with one terrible stomp, prompting a pained cry.

His point made, Deadlock leaned down and said, "Clench listens to me. Not you. And my choosing to attack an Autobot slag heap is none of his business. And no whining little cleaning droid is going to tell me what I can and can't do!" He ground his foot into the mech's hand to further emphasize his point, the mech's screams echoing through the tunnel.

Terror in his optics, Jetblade nonetheless spoke up. Aside from the unnecessary cruelty, there was no sense in turning one of their own into scrap. "Deadlock, come on, you've made your point! Let him –!"

The ivory Seeker turned silent as Deadlock aimed his weapon at his conical head. "Maybe I haven't made it clear enough, if some meek little idiot like you is going to question –!"

An electrical surge went through the Decepticon's systems, Terradive's trident embedded in his side. He finally collapsed, the orange jet standing over him. Violating orders and beating up Crankcase was one thing, but threatening his wing-mech was another matter entirely.

Still more than a little terrified by what he had seen, Jetblade looked over their unconscious commander, not eager to ask his question. "Is he…?"

"Just in stasis. I'll tell Clench what happened." Deadlock slung over his shoulders, Terradive tilted his head towards their fourth. "You get him. We're not leaving him behind. We can't afford it."

The smaller of the two jets did as he was told, slinging Crankcase over one shoulder and half-carried, half-dragged him away, following his friend. With pained grunts, Crankcase looked over his damaged hand and whined, "Great. I'll be lucky if I don't lose that hand. What do you bet me Scalpel will be the one looking over it?"

A small part of Jetblade almost wished that Crankcase's vocal processors had been crushed. Sure, he'd be in even worse shape, but at least he'd be quiet.

---

Some distance now between them and their aggressors, Pyro and Streetwise emerged from the tunnels and onto the surface, the twilight sky over Uraya greeting them. Glad to be out from underground, Pyro nonetheless took a second to glance over his wound, giving a disappointed groan. "And here I was hoping we'd avoid a firefight."

"It's superficial. A dip in the CR Chamber and it'll be gone." Hardly impressed by his partner's apparent hypochondria, the smaller of the two mechs activated his communicator and reported in. "Home base, this is Team Three. We've had positive contact with Decepticon insurgents. We're a little worse for wear, but they've been marked."

:"Copy that, Team Three. Good news; you two were the lucky ones. Return to base for debrief and repairs.":

"On our way in. Team Three out." The line closed, Streetwise glanced over the damage to his sensor array with some displeasure. Red Alert probably wouldn't let him hear the end of this. That unpleasant thought still in mind, he gestured to his partner. "Come on, back to base. Something tells me Quickstrike's already figured out a plan for the next part."

"And we'll be charging in once everyone's armed up." Less than eager to get into a fight, Pyro nonetheless followed his partner, both transforming and driving back to their regional base for the next part in the plan. Bringing in rogue Decepticons was their job, after all, and odds are this little scheme would only work once.

---

Slowly, Deadlock's systems reasserted themselves, his optics coming back online and his audials allowing him to regain his senses. Dark shadows greeted him, the numb feeling in his limbs immediately telling him that he'd been shackled in stasis cuffs. Three guesses left about who had put him in them.

"Well, ain't you a piece of work." His captor emerged from the shadows, blue-green armor giving off the odd sparkle, and looked over him with disapproval in his optics. "You are getting way too big for your chassis, Deadlock. What am I going to do with you?"

A smirk. "You could always let me loose; give me a chance to do my thing. Who knows Clench; maybe I'll skip tearing a new one in your sparkly frame and just go nuts on the Autobots instead."

Bright green optics narrowed at the remark, slightly impressed at the audacity but generally not amused by the threat. While not quite as high on Megatron's command roster as mechs like Thrust, Razorclaw or Sharkticon, Clench was nonetheless among his more dangerous subordinates, due to his loyalty, his incredible firepower, and his general levels of competence. His sparkling exterior was a quirk of his design, its display an eccentricity, but it was one that Megatron tolerated, and that his troops never commented on lest they incurred his wrath. He opted to let the remark slide this time and simply continued on with his lecture. "You got the same message as everyone else. Avoid notice, keep up surveillance. We both know the Autobots are up to something; Megatron wouldn't give us specifics on something like that for his own amusement. And yet, there you go, trying to blast them into scrap at the first opportunity. Why is that?"

The smirk faded. "The more Autobots killed, the faster this war gets won. I'd think Megatron would know that."

Clench shook his head and tutted. "The more Autobots killed, the faster a battle gets won. Winning a battle and winning a war are two different things. Gotta think big picture, Deadlock."

Anger was now clear in the younger mech's face. "Is that why Megatron's done nothing but sit on his aft since the Second War? I fail to see how hiding underground and letting the Autobots just up and capture us a few at a time is working on the big picture!"

The larger Decepticon's optics locked on his subordinate. "That's why you're my second in command, and not in his inner circle. He might've given you that wonderful new name of yours, brought you into our fold, but that doesn't give you the right to criticize his plans, or beat the slag out of your mechs. Even if he's a whining little frag, Crankcase didn't deserve to get roughed up like that." He turned away and noted, "I'm starting to think I'd be better off with a different XO. You're getting way too reckless for my liking. Slag, even Axor knows when to rein it…" An explosion sounded, interrupting his statement, and Clench shook his head with an annoyed grumble. "Excuse me a moment. Sounds like Slicer's been overzealous with his weapons tests again."

Clench stepped back into the shadows, the hiss of a sliding door opening and closing confirming his exit and additional explosions sounding. It sounded like there was more going on than just a poorly-timed weapons test, and regardless, Deadlock knew he needed to get out of these restraints.

A brief power failure allowed for exactly that, the cuffs shorting out and restoring mobility to his frame. Knowing he wouldn't have long, he deployed a small lock pick from one finger, a trick he'd picked up long before becoming a Decepticon, and carefully jimmied his way out of the cuffs. He dropped to the ground, rubbed his wrists on instinct, and had a few moments of brief joy before he took notice of the dim blue light radiating from the band around his left arm; a specialized stasis manacle, not enough to knock out his mobility but enough to deactivate his internal weapons, and so difficult to remove without the right tools that it was easier to remove his limb. Clench had thought ahead.

Only one thing to do then; retrieve a weapon and fight off whoever was attacking. Best case scenario, he could kill the Autobots and get back in his commander's good graces. Worst case, well, he could just kill everyone, escape, then find his way back to Megatron's cell and pass himself off as the lone survivor. Starscream would probably question it, but it wasn't like that turncoat Seeker would have anyone listen to him. Either way, piece of energon cake.

Power was restored, and the doors before him slid open, finding clear signs of a firefight within their hiding place. How the slag had the Autobots found them? There weren't any tracers or bugs planted or…

Slag it all, that mist!

---

While their larger constructs were far more prominent, especially when it came to warfare, Cybertronians in general regularly made use of smaller machines, usually for medical or stealth purposes. By law, however, the manufacture of nanotech devices for use as weapons in warfare was prohibited, due mostly to the concern of being unable to stop them once they started. No such prohibition was ever put in place for nanotech-based transmitters, however, but such a plan had never been used, as a countermeasure could very easily be developed. But properly used if only once and such a plan could make a world of difference.

Stakeout couldn't have been more pleased as he shot his way into the hideout, the dim light only a slight impediment to his progress. "Checkpoint, have I ever mentioned that you and Quickstrike are geniuses?"

The larger mech at his back couldn't help but be a little proud, given that the entire plan was his idea. Sending small teams of Autobots into known areas where Megatron's forces had been hiding out in the hopes that they'd be attacked by some of the tyrant's more overzealous supporters was a long shot even with Quickstrike's input, but it had evidently paid off – of the four Decepticons they'd encountered thus far, all of them had been stasis tagged and captured without much trouble. "Well, don't count your protoforms until they come online! We haven't cleared this base out yet!"

A terrible explosion confirmed the security officer's statement, and the pair soon found themselves looking straight at Clench's riot shield as he charged in, their weapons having little impact against it. Both barely managed to dodge him in the room's small confines, the large Decepticon managing a dark chuckle. "I always love it when guests come by to entertain!" A few potshots flying towards the two Autobots, he laughed and taunted them. "Come on! Is this all you've got?"

A bash to the back of his cranium answered his question, causing the large Decepticon to fall forward. He braced himself with his shield, but quickly recovered and got back to his feet, turning to find Landquake standing behind him, armored up and firing off additional punches. "Wrong question to ask!" The Decepticon colossus pressed against one wall, the bulky Autobot turned to his comrades. "I've got him! Go!"

The two complied and continued on their way through the compound, sensors primed for oncoming Decepticons. They soon came across a pair of doorways, both open, and took up positions outside the closest one. Stakeout slowly peered inside, but quickly found it empty, a pair of stasis cuffs dangling from the ceiling. Signaling that the room was safe, he closed the door and gestured to the second one.

The two hadn't even started moving towards it when a flash grenade rolled to their feet and detonated, their senses quickly overwhelmed by the brief explosion. A pair of blasters in hand to replace his deactivated weapons and a long-range rifle clipped to his back, Deadlock charged out of the weapons locker and opened fire. Stakeout was too small and fast a target, but Checkpoint was hit with little trouble. But the sounds of his former commander getting beaten up a small distance away prompted the Decepticon to escape and flee; he'd have little trouble against one or two smaller ones, but larger mechs that could go toe to toe with Clench were another matter.

Stakeout growled at the attacker. "We've got a runner! I'm on him!"

"Wait!" The smaller Autobot was already in pursuit before Checkpoint could respond. The damage wasn't severe, but it was enough to get him out of the fight. Hoping that his comrade wouldn't get into too much trouble, he activated his comm.-link. "All units, this is Checkpoint – we have a runner! Spark signature is a match for Deadlock! Stakeout is in pursuit, but I want all aerial units keeping tabs on them!"

---

"Checkpoint, this is Searchlight! I've just spotted him! I'm joining Stakeout in pursuit!"

Having blasted his way out of the hideout, Deadlock counted his blessings that the stasis manacle had only disabled his built-in weapons and shifted to vehicle mode as he made good his escape. The telltale calls of rotors humming and sirens blaring sounded behind him, prompting him to pick up speed and hope that he could make good his escape. Even as he kept up pursuit, however, he increased the sensitivity on his internal repair system, hoping that would be enough to get rid of whatever effects the gas had on him. It wouldn't do him much good if he couldn't lose his pursuers, but at least he could help keep them away once they were lost.

Unfortunately, the mostly level plains of Uraya only provided so much natural cover, and the Decepticon was forced to dart and weave through alley after alley, hoping that his pursuers would be exhausted before he was. He couldn't help but remember what circumstances were like for him before joining Megatron, on the run from one mech or another, forced to do what he had to in order to survive. The more things changed, it seemed.

Some distance finally put between him and his pursuers, Deadlock scanned over nearby facilities, hoping to find somewhere to hide until his internals finished their work and the tracking system was defeated. The one structure that stood out was an ornate one, with high red columns, ornate multi-layered roofs and multiple high windows, surrounded by spacious grounds with small crystalline and silica gardens and ponds. It stood out like a bust piston, but it looked easily accessed and there didn't seem to be many other options. It would have to do.

Speeding underneath the bright red archway at the edge of the grounds, the Decepticon fugitive transformed and charged up the front steps, plowing his way inside through the front door. As he drew his acquired weapons, Deadlock realized that the door had opened far too easily. Didn't whoever lived or worked here lock their entrances? He looked up and around at his surroundings – a large room with high ceilings and smooth walls, their composition resembling some hard organic substance, with sparse decoration and little furniture.

"I was not expecting company this mega-cycle." His guns primed, he aimed for the one mech in the room. The old mech was placidly sitting at a low table, legs crossed and back to him, helmet ornately decorated and armor predominantly white and gold. Blue optics met Deadlock's red as the old mech turned his head and offered, "If you are going to use your weapons, then do so. Otherwise, kindly store them."

Deadlock was far too bewildered to shoot. Calmly staring death in the face, not even rising to run and flee from certain doom? What kind of crazy old mech was this? He kept his weapons primed and aimed at the old mech's torso. "I don't want any trouble! No sudden moves or you're dead!"

The old mech seemed unimpressed. "If you had intended to kill me, you would have done so already. Now, if you've changed your mind, I suggest you simply do what you came to do and leave."

The Decepticon had fought several mechs in his time, killed quite a few, but this was the first time he'd ever encountered one that seemed totally unafraid. Slag, he was hardly showing any emotion at all. He'd have thought that something like this would be annoying – instead, it was confusing, and a little frightening. What he wouldn't give for something easier to shoot at right about now.

His prayers were answered as Searchlight and Stakeout burst through the front door, stopping just inside of it with weapons ready. While a standoff ensued between them and Deadlock, the Autobot flyer quickly took note of the old mech and called out. "Master Yoketron? Are you online?"

A gentle laugh. "Quite alright, young one." Yoketron rose to his feet and turned to face them, his Autobot emblem now visible upon his chest. "Now, am I to assume that my visitor is to be incarcerated?"

"That's correct, sir."

"No doubt considered a dangerous criminal, then." At Searchlight's nod, Yoketron gave the Decepticon an appraising glance. "Well, I am afraid that the two of you are out of luck. This dangerous criminal has asked me for sanctuary."

Deadlock barely moved, but was surprised by the Autobot's boldfaced lie. He'd never said a thing about sanctuary! What in the Pit was he playing at?

The two Autobots were just as surprised, Stakeout looking at the old master in shock. "You can't give that murdering slagheap sanctuary! He's Deadlock, Clench's XO! He's slagged three Autobots that we know of!"

"And it could have easily been four. But it wasn't. And when sanctuary is granted at a site such as this, it is to be honored." He quietly waved for them to leave. "If you have no other business here, I suggest that you depart. You no doubt have other tasks which demand your attention."

Stakeout looked as if he wanted to protest further, but was stopped by his teammate. Frustrated, he gave a respectful nod and followed Searchlight out.

As they left, Deadlock glanced back and forth between the two and the old mech, wondering exactly what was going on. Who was this 'Yoketron', and why were these idiot Autobots so eager to cooperate with him? Deciding that he was better off not debating, he gave a relieved laugh. "Thanks old mech. You shouldn't have stuck your neck out for me like that."

"I saw no reason not to."

A laugh as he turned away. "I'll remember that. Anyway, I'll be leaving now, so…"

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that." Deadlock stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the older mech. "If you go outside of the grounds for this temple, you will be captured, or worse, immediately killed. I cannot allow another Cybertronian, whatever their background, to be slain before my optics if I can prevent it."

The Decepticon wasn't sure if he should be touched by the mech's concern or annoyed by it. "Then is there another way out?"

"Of course. And I will show it to you if, and only if, you can defeat me in unarmed combat."

Deadlock was dumbfounded. "I kick your aft, and you show me the way out? What if I kill you?"

"If I am dead, then you have no knowledge of the escape. You will be trapped here."

"And if I tear this place apart?"

"You'll risk damaging your means of safe escape. Your best option is to fight me and let me live."

"And if you kill me?"

"I have not taken the life of a single Cybertronian since I was brought online at the start of the First Great War. I am not about to indulge in such actions now."

Deadlock considered his options. The mech had made several good points, or at least reasonable ones, and had all but promised to not take his spark. And besides, he was an old mech, slow moving and not at all imposing. He could take him, with or without weapons.

But what fun was there in beating up an old mech?

Tossing aside his guns, the Decepticon transformed and sped forward, driving about the room and making his way for the door, only to be sent flying rear bumper over front by a kick he didn't even see coming. He crashed hard on the floor, shifted back to robot mode, and looked at the old mech in shock, met with a bemused grin.

"You'll have to do better than that."

Now thoroughly frustrated, Deadlock rose to his feet and charged the old mech, one hand balled into a fist. If he wanted a fight, then fine, he'd get one. Yoketron simply caught it and spun the Decepticon about once before sending him flying into a wall. The younger mech slowly got back to his feet, frustration and shock clear on his face.

"They say the third time is the charm, young one."

Deadlock shook his head in absolute shock. "How the slag are you doing this?"

The old master smiled. "I am a master of many martial arts. Circuit-Su, Crystalocution, Diffusion, Metallikato, Processor-Over-Matter, and many others both common and arcane. To one such as I, your movements are as slow as…"

Deadlock charged once more, but Yoketron merely side-stepped and landed a swift blow to the back of the Decepticon's cranium, finally knocking him to the ground. The younger mech was then gently turned over, amazement in his optics and pain registering on his face.

A chuckle. "As slow as a Kaon night." He offered a hand. "Your first lesson, young mech; appearances can be deceiving."

Deadlock briefly considered attacking again, but decided against it. He was battered enough already, he didn't want to end up even worse. He took the offered hand and regained his feet. "I'll remember that."

"Good. I have many more for you, my student." As if anticipating a complaint, the old master looked upon his new disciple and asked, "You have no objections to this?"

Deadlock shrugged. "It beats staying in the stockade, I guess. Lead on, teacher."

A correcting finger was raised. "Sensei."

"Sensei. Fine, whatever."

A contemplative smile crossed Yoketron's face, and he gestured for the young mech to follow him. "Come. You look as if you require sustenance, as well as some repair work. Also, if you will allow me to remove your built-in weapons, I will remove that manacle from your arm."

That gave Deadlock pause, but it was short lived; weapons or no, it was clear the old mech could take him in a fight. Besides, they could be replaced one future cycle. "Okay, that sounds fair."

"Good. And after you have been cleaned up, your next lesson will begin."

---

"You haven't seen the last of us, Autobot scum! Though you may silence a few of us, you cannot silence the inevitable call for change! A new day is dawning, and when it comes, Megatron will –!"

The hatch closed on the stasis pod, forcing Icepick into silence. Checkpoint shook his head sadly as he walked out of the hold, less than pleased at what he'd heard from the Decepticon's vocalizer. The sad fact was that for every ten followers the tyrant had who were dissatisfied with the current regime or simply desired power, there was the odd one who was a zealous follower, ready to go straight into Unicron's maw if Megatron ordered it. He didn't know any way to discourage them, which made it all the more frightening and tragic. The best they could do was take this one off the streets and keep him off.

Doors slid shut behind him, and the security officer found himself greeted by the approving face of his commander. Only slightly taller than him and with armor colored a pale blue, Hot Zone was a popular and charismatic mech who led his subordinates by example, often charging into the fray with energetic glee whenever he had the chance to get out from behind his desk. "Six of Megatron's troops captured in one operation, including Clench himself. Nice work, Checkpoint."

The black and white semi shook his head. "Thanks, but I think luck had more to do with it than anything. That none of us were seriously injured is a minor miracle."

"Maybe, but I've never been one to complain about them. And the fewer we have on the streets, the better…"

"Hot Zone!" Both mechs halted in their path as King Atlas approached, fury and anger clear on his face. "Is this the mech responsible for the fiasco earlier?"

Checkpoint looked more than a little insulted at that claim, but his commander spoke up for him. "I fail to see how Checkpoint's plan counted as a fiasco, Atlas. Almost all of Clench's cell has been incarcerated, including Clench himself, and…"

"And one of them is still out there, holed up in Yoketron's dojo and waving his aft at us, laughing! What kind of idiot goes and lets an operation end up like that? You should've grabbed him and left, or better, caught him before he got in!"

A quirked optic ridge was the first reaction that Hot Zone gave to Atlas' complaints. After waiting to make certain that the larger mech was done complaining, the security commander spoke in a calm, even voice. "That we were unable to capture Deadlock before he entered Yoketron's dojo is problematic, yes, but things like this happen. As it stands, however, things could have ended up being far worse. He's claimed sanctuary, and there's only one way in or out of the place. And the instant he leaves the grounds, we can be on him in a spark-pulse. And if you're worried about him hurting Yoketron…"

A scoff from the ivory jet. "Who could care about that senile old rust bucket? I'm more worried about your idiot subordinates screwing up again. And trust me, they will screw up again." Turning and striding off, Atlas called back more than loud enough to be heard, "I just hope to Primus I'm not around to see it!"

Checkpoint kept his vocalizer shut as Atlas strode out of sight, but finally found himself unable to hold back. "Permission to speak candidly, sir?"

"That Atlas is a dipstick is accepted among the higher-ups, Checkpoint. I only wish there was something to be done about it." Shaking his head, Hot Zone opted to let the matter drop – either Atlas would learn to be more respectful towards his inferiors, or he wouldn't live long enough to regret it. "That aside, I assume surveillance is up around the dojo?"

"Searchlight's watching it now. He, Streetwise and Stakeout will be watching it in alternating shifts until we're told otherwise."

"Good. Hopefully, we won't have any unforeseen problems."

---

"Lord Megatron, I bring ill news." Thrust had considered many variations upon his next words, hoping to put a more positive spin on what had occurred, but ultimately found himself unable to find anything that could do the job. He ultimately opted to just relay his information and hope for the best. "The cell commanded by Clench has been captured."

Megatron grimaced, a low growl escaping his vocalizer. He opted against turning his chair to face the tactician, trying to keep his rage under control. "How?"

"Their base was compromised, my lord."

Optic shutters narrowed dangerously as he turned to face his underling. "You misunderstand my meaning, Thrust. How have we gained this information? The Autobots do not broadcast captures until their transfer to the stockades on Aegis is complete, and I have received no word from our sources about this capture."

"Skystalker witnessed the assault, my lord." Another Decepticon stepped forward, his armor black and gold and his optics a brilliant red. "He reported his findings to me, and I to Thrust."

"No doubt to avoid endangering yourself."

Mindwipe humbly bowed his head. While fair enough in a fight, he much preferred to work through others, and between his partnership with Skystalker and his hypnotic abilities, he was able to do exactly that more times than not. "I merely follow the chain of command, Lord Megatron."

The tyrant opted to let the matter go and concentrate on their more immediate concern. "Very well. I want details, Mindwipe."

"Skystalker observed Clench, Terradive, Jetblade, Crankcase, Icepick and Slicer being led away in stasis cuffs. I suspect they are in Uraya's holding facility." Noticing his commander's arched optic ridge, he elaborated, "Deadlock remains at large."

"But has yet to report in." Megatron's memory banks quickly brought up the young Decepticon, reminding him of all that he had done in his cause, and what he had been before. "Do we have any knowledge of how their base was discovered?"

Thrust quickly spoke up, glad to get a word in. "None whatsoever, my lord. Do you suspect betrayal?"

"That is the most likely outcome. Alert all Decepticons under my command – Deadlock is now a traitor, and is to be terminated on sight."

"And what of Clench's forces?" At his leader's querying gaze, the tactician elaborated, "As of right now, his troops are not outside of our reach. There still exists the possibility of freeing them, my lord."

Megatron's optics narrowed as he considered his options. Allowing them to remain incarcerated would be a fitting punishment for their failure, but Clench and his soldiers were loyal, and his resources were small. If the possibility existed that they could be freed, then it should be pursued. "Very well. Thrust, formulate a plan. Mindwipe, assemble a strike team. Once we have the information needed, we shall free our comrades and give the Autobots a short, sharp lesson in who is in control. Dismissed!" His two subordinates turned and departed, and the tyrant opened a secure comm.-line as the hatch into his chambers closed behind them. "Obsidian, I have a task for you."

---

In the mega-cycle that he had been stuck in the dojo, Deadlock had attempted at each chance he got to fight and defeat his keeper. Each time, however, had the same results – failure. Figuring out and being able to counter one move simply led to the implementation of another, progressively more difficult to defeat. The one advantage he'd gained was that he wasn't tiring as quickly as before, and that was small comfort. One such session ended, and the Decepticon found himself collapsing onto a bench in a heap, his servomotors exhausted. "You are something else, sensei."

Yoketron flashed a brief, cryptic smile. "We all have our distinctive qualities, young mech."

"And that's part of it. You haven't referred to me by name once. You know it, you know who I am, but you've never outright said it." Not quite annoyed, more curious than anything, he leaned forward. "So why can't you just come out and call me Deadlock?"

The smile returned. "I have my reasons, young mech. So far as I am aware, I am allowed them." The old master sat down beside his semi-willing pupil. "Now I have a question for you. Why does it matter so much to you that I call you by this name?"

A small grin formed on the Decepticon's lips. "Because it's a mark of honor. Megatron gave it to me. It's thanks to him that I'm the mech I am now." He cast a small glance at the Autobot insignia on the old master's chestplate. "I've heard the Autobot propaganda, about how he's a monster, about how he eats protoforms for a snack, but that's not the real Megatron. He didn't want the war. He wanted something else. He wanted a better world." He noticed the oddly neutral expression on the older mech's face. "You doubt that?"

"That he wanted a better world isn't the question, young mech. Who he wanted that better world to be for is still debatable."

Deadlock immediately got to his feet. "He wanted that better world for all of us! You've been around a while! You've seen what we've been through! Our people were built as slave labor, mindless machines with no choice or destiny beyond what we were made and sold for! We were given life, and our makers experimented on us, played with us like toys! And when we got rid of them, we were attacked left and right by every passing outsider with an axe to grind! And that's ignoring the problems here on Cybertron! Every mega-cycle, mechs fall into the cracks, forgotten, cast aside like spent energon cells! The high and mighty mechs in power don't have to worry about that, but the rest of us do! You probably never saw anything like that, but I have! Before I was a Decepticon, I was forced to scrounge and beg for handouts from the mechs who had everything! And I got nothing! Instead of helping us, they look down on us, call us Empties because we've got nothing – no skills, no power, no hope!"

"And Megatron gave you hope?"

Suddenly turning somber, the Decepticon nodded. "Yeah, but he wasn't the first." He sat back down. "There was another mech back then, another empty like me. His name was Gasket, but he wasn't like the rest of us. He wanted a better life, any way he could get it. And if the system wouldn't give him what he needed, he'd take it. And I was right there with him." He slumped, old memories filtering through his processor for the first time in what felt like forever as a sad smile emerged on his face. "We didn't steal much, only what we needed to keep ourselves online – energon, the odd spare parts, stuff like that – but we didn't need to take more. Thanks to Gasket, we had all we needed and more. He gave all of us hope." The smile faded. "And then it was all taken away. Eventually, we were tracked down by an Autobot security patrol – big mechs with bigger guns and armor. They grabbed a few empties off the street – they didn't know who the thieves were, so why bother with an investigation when any scapegoat could do? We saw them roughing one of the others up, cuffed and defeated. Gasket tried to get them to lighten up, but they didn't listen. They pushed him around, one thing led to another, and Gasket…"

Yoketron didn't speak. The implications were obvious.

Deadlock didn't know why he was saying all of this, but he didn't stop. He'd never shared this with anyone before now, but he may as well keep going. It felt good to let it all out, and it was the best proof that he had. "And when that happened, I couldn't control myself. I went berserk, charged at them, grabbed one of their guns and didn't hold back. By the time I was done, all of those tailpipe-headed Autobots were dead. That would've been the end of it, except one had a radio link going. I went into hiding, but eventually, I was found, just not by the Autobots. Lord Megatron's early supporters found me, trained me, put me to good use. He even gave me a new name himself, the name I have now. He never wanted a war, he wanted a safer, better, fairer Cybertron." Ruby optics locked upon the old mech. "And you can't tell me that he never wanted anything else."

Yoketron remained silent, but another voice issued a harsh laugh. Deadlock turned to the entrance into the inner sparring area to find another Decepticon standing in the archway, tall and lean with green and black armor and a massive hook on one arm. "Megatron may not have wanted a war, kid, but he sure as slag got one, and Cybertron definitely ain't safer, better or fairer. A few Decepticons who got kicked out of the CDF'll tell you the exact same thing."

"What do you know? And who the slag are…?" The young mech's optics turned to the old Autobot, expecting the worst.

Yoketron, for his part, tutted in disappointment. "I fear you've worried my newest pupil, Lockdown. Your appearance was unexpected, to say the least."

"Sorry, sensei, but when I heard that you'd given refuge to this mech, I got a bit worried." Stepping into the light, Deadlock could now better see the newcomer, his face white as bleached bone with spikes emerging from his chin. "The Autobots have wanted to lock him away for a long time, and right now, he isn't even all that popular with his old pals, if my sources are right."

Now confused as well as angry, the young mech all but snarled at the newcomer. "What the slag are you talking about? Who are you, anyway?"

A dark chuckle. "Need to get your audials checked. Name's Lockdown. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me – I'm a bounty hunter. And a long time ago, I was in the same place as you."

Deadlock may not have recognized the mech's name, but he wasn't pleased to hear the term 'bounty hunter'. "So is that why you're here? Capture me; send me off to whoever'll pay you best?"

Another laugh. "Hardly. You've got a high price on your head, kid, but Yoketron taking you under his wing means you're too much trouble." A genuine grin of admiration crossed the bounty hunter's face as he looked to his old sensei. "Yoketron-sensei taught me everything I know about how to fight servo-to-servo, but I could never beat him. Best I could ever do was fight him to a draw."

Yoketron smiled back. "You were a good student."

"Yeah, and better that than a dead mech." Lockdown's attention turned back to Deadlock. "I came by to warn my old sensei, but you'd best make sure you hear what I've got to say too. Your old team is locked up, and less than a mega-cycle away from getting shipped off to permanent storage on the next ship off Cybertron. You escaped, and from what I've heard, Megatron's put two and two together and gotten this – you sold them out."

Outrage was clear on the young mech's face. "What kind of slag is that? I'd never betray Lord Megatron! He gave me a purpose!"

"And now he's put a target on your back." Lockdown turned to the old master. "Sensei, you might think you know what you're doing, but…"

A hand was raised, and Yoketron's smile silenced the hunter. "Your concerns are noted and appreciated, Lockdown. However, I am not willing to abandon my students. Would you have had me abandon you at the first sign of trouble?"

Lockdown shook his head. "Nah, but what I've done is nothing compared to the sparkling here. Trust me; he'd be safer in the Autobot stockades. The worst they'll do is lock him up for a few vorns, but Megatron's goons…"

"Will be dealt with when the time comes. I doubt that Megatron would risk attacking this place, given the surveillance that has been placed upon it." An arched optic ridge. "Or are there not any Autobots keeping their optics upon this dojo?"

"And doing a decent job of keeping hidden." The bounty hunter huffed, beginning to see that he was getting nowhere. "You be careful, sensei. Lots of mechs have died pointlessly at Megatron's hands. I don't want you to be one of them." His gaze turned to the young Decepticon as he added, "And if you are going to stay here kid, I suggest you listen to everything he says if you want to stay alive. If Megatron's goons come after you, they'll know your tricks, and sensei can give you better ones if you let him."

His message delivered, Lockdown turned and departed, leaving master and student to themselves. Deadlock growled in frustration. "He's wrong. Lord Megatron wouldn't jump to a conclusion like that. I want this madness to end, just like he does." He looked to Yoketron. "But something tells me you don't believe that."

The old master looked to the young mech. "Actually, I do believe that you want this madness to end. I only think you are going about it the wrong way." He stood up. "Tell me; before you were called Deadlock, what were you called?"

The Decepticon shook his head. "What does it matter? I wasn't anything then."

"You were something to Gasket, and he was something to you, if you were willing to kill three mechs in order to avenge him. Everything that you were before you were Deadlock, you are now, only with different trappings. I think the name you had when you knew him is as important as the name you have now."

"It was a simple name. Probably a million mechs with it before me."

"But only one mech with that name was Gasket's friend."

He could see that the argument wouldn't end in his favor, and that the Autobot would keep prodding him until one or both died. So he did what he thought was the sane thing; he relented. "Drift. My name was Drift."

Yoketron smiled. "Your name is Drift. And now that I understand you, I find it easier to do this." He turned and strode towards a far wall and then brought his hands together, two fingers extended from each and one atop the other, quietly humming. As his student approached, the old mech continued to hum until the wall slid open, revealing a rack of bladed melee weapons ranging from shuriken to short swords to long blades. The storage door opened, Yoketron retrieved two short swords and held them out for his student.

Deadlock watched in confusion. "You're giving me swords?"

"Lockdown is not incorrect; whether here or elsewhere, you will be forced to defend yourself. A sword is not nearly as clumsy or troublesome as a blaster or projectile weapon, and in the hands of a skilled master, it is the most versatile of all armaments."

"But you're giving them to me. What's stopping me from stabbing you the instant I get them?"

"What stopped you from simply blasting me when you first came here?"

Deadlock's optics widened in surprise. "What kind of question is that?"

"A good one, and one I'm eager to have the answer to."

"But I didn't shoot you! Why the slag do you want to know why I didn't shoot you?"

"Because you said yourself that you blame the Autobots for the condition of the world at large. You blame them for your place in the lowest tier of society. They are directly responsible for the death of your friend. Aren't I an Autobot? Do I deserve to live more than any other Autobot, or less than any other?"

"Yes, but you aren't a soldier!"

"I train many of these soldiers, and can often outfight them. How am I any different from them?"

"But…!" Deadlock slumped as he spoke his next few words. They were words that he wasn't happy to hear, words that he was far from thrilled to admit, but they were nonetheless true. "But killing you wouldn't bring him back, and shooting you in the back wouldn't do a thing to make that better world that I wanted." He looked to the empty gaps in his arms where his blaster pods had been only a mega-cycle previous, and thought about what he'd done with them, the damage he'd done, the lives he'd taken. "Then again, I haven't done much to actually make my world better, have I?"

A smile grew upon Yoketron's face. "No, but it is never too late to start." At the young mech's surprised look, he continued, "You have great potential for good or ill Drift, as all of us do. How you fulfill that potential is your choice. You can choose not to take these weapons, and wait here for the inevitable. You can choose to take them and kill me, and wait for the inevitable. Or you can take them, learn to use them under me, and prepare for the inevitable. And even if Megatron does not come for you, is it not wise to be prepared in case he does?"

The young mech considered it. Even if Megatron did want to welcome him back into the fold, he'd done more than his share of manifold-tearing to his own comrades, and they wouldn't be forgiving. And if what Lockdown said was the truth, and he really had been labeled a traitor, then learning to defend himself would be the smart thing to do. He took the blades and held them up in his hands. "I've learned a thing or two when it comes to swords, but I'm no expert."

"Then prepare to be enlightened." Yoketron took two blades for himself from storage and gestured for the young Decepticon to step back. "You have taken your first steps into a larger world, Drift. Your real transformation has only begun."

As he took his position, the young mech felt a small bit of nostalgia at being called by that name. It had been an eternity since he'd been called Drift; in a strange way, he'd missed it. He wasn't quite ready to give up on being Deadlock, but he had no objection to his keeper – well, his teacher – calling him by his old name. "Alright sensei, show me what you've got."

---

Prisoner transfers were far more Pyro's cup of oil than going through maintenance tunnels. Granted, there were just as many things that could go wrong and just as many problems that could pop up, but at least when things went south you had more room to maneuver in open terrain than you did in an enclosed space. Aside from that, there were usually more mechs on escort detail than there were in maintenance tunnel sweeps.

The last of the magnetic clamps locked into place, and the fire engine looked to the bulky Autobot beside him. "You ready to go?"

Landquake's answer was as confident as always. "All set. Let's roll out!"

It was the same protocol each time – a few mechs would run escort duty for an unmarked container truck pulled by another Autobot, the captured Decepticons in stasis inside, from the temporary holding center to the nearest Mass Transit Hub, where they'd be ferried to Iacon and then finally orbital jumped to Aegis for either long-term storage or transferred to an off-world installation deeper in the system, orbiting one of the planets closer to Cybertron's suns and cut off from the Space Bridge network. Some discussion had been made of placing them outside of Cybertron's home system, but given the loss of the Acheron, the choice was made to keep them close to Cybertron or one of its colonies rather than far away, lest more ships be lost.

The exit hatches opened, and the convoy made its exit, Streetwise in the lead with Pyro immediately behind, Stakeout taking up the rear behind Landquake and with aerial escort high above. The four-mech convoy quietly made their way onto the streets, sirens off so as to not attract undue attention. While odds were that civilians and passers-by would recognize the Autobots as what they were, there was little reason to think they'd be curious about what they were doing or where they were going. Nothing to be seen, no reason to not simply move along and go about their business.

At least, that was the thought. In reality, a number of Cybertronians simply stood in the middle of the street, forcing the convoy to halt. Streetwise briefly flashed on his sirens, but the crowd refused to move. "All of you! Move out of the streets immediately!" Not liking where this was going, he flashed his rear lights, signaling for the convoy to reverse and make for an alternate route, only for another crowd to converge behind them. "Sensors primed, mechs. This looks like a trap."

The ebon mech's statement was confirmed as a black aircraft swooped down out of the sky, capture claws emerging from below as it scooped up Stakeout and carried him off, the small Autobot struggling in the attacker's grip. Streetwise and Pyro swiftly transformed, knowing full well that if one Decepticon was present, more wouldn't be far behind.

They were quickly proven right as another, larger stealth craft came swooping down out of the sky, emissions from its engines disorienting their sensors. Glad to have additions to his captive audience, Mindwipe transformed and landed before them, his ruby optics shining with bright, hypnotic light. "Lower your weapons, Autobots, and allow me access."

Mesmerized, they did as asked. Just as the pair stood aside, however, Landquake disconnected from the container and sped forward, smashing hard into the Decepticon with his cowcatcher. Mindwipe's temporary distraction was all the time the Autobot needed to transform, grab hold of his arms and headbutt him, all while keeping his sensors at their minimum acceptable radius and using his internal comm. for communication. "Snap out of it, Bots! I can't keep this up forever!"

Neither moved, however, leaving the Decepticon to laugh in amusement. "How weak-minded you Autobots are. Clever, but weak-minded. Axor!"

With a squeal of rubber against asphalt and an almighty crash, a slate grey low-riding vehicle slammed through the rear crowd, tearing through civilians and sending others flying. Axor laughed maniacally as he transformed, glad that he'd managed to have some fun on this operation, and deployed his axe, opting against the subtle way in and instead simply cutting through and tearing off the door. "Piece of energon cake."

The Decepticon hunter was swiftly proven wrong as he was blown back by a stream of cold water, sending him flying out of the container and back onto the street. Hot Zone quickly followed him out, balls of plasma firing from cannons mounted in his arms. "Sorry to disappoint, but we're not about to make this easy for you!"

High above, weapons fire shot through the air, forcing Skystalker to drop his capture. As Stakeout fell on a nearby rooftop, rolling before transforming and sliding to a halt, his Decepticon opponent transformed. "Alright, where are you? Come on, no one gets the drop on –!"

Skystalker barely caught his opponent's attack in time, his axes batting away the grappler winch shot in his direction as another Autobot entered the fray, red and black armor glistening in the sun and his face and rotors sharp and ready. Optics flaring and jets keeping him aloft, Blades readied himself for battle. "Come on, 'Con! Let's dance!"

Not at all pleased at the mission's progression, Mindwipe opted for a different tact. "Autobots, target the civilians!" As Streetwise and Pyro readied their weapons, Mindwipe called out to the commander of the ASF, "Do you want your troops to become murderers, Hot Zone? Allow us to reclaim our allies, or I will have your men open fire on these civilians! Which will it be?"

That forced the fire engine to halt and consider his actions. Mindwipe could and would pull a trick like that – there was nothing stopping him. And there was no guarantee about how quickly support could come, or how soon they could defeat this smaller force. Regardless, it definitely wasn't worth the deaths of civilian Cybertronians to keep their prisoners in custody.

The problem was quickly settled as Skystalker came crashing down onto his partner, momentarily distracting Mindwipe and briefly letting Streetwise and Pyro regain their senses. The Decepticon was further distracted as Stakeout and Blades landed nearby, Landquake delivering another headbutt before shoving him into the path of the Autobot helicopter.

Glad to have that issue resolved, Hot Zone turned his attention back to Axor just seconds before a long EMP cannon deployed from the hunter's left arm. He fired, knocking the Autobot into unconsciousness, before zapping the rest of them one at a time. Soon, six Autobots were unconscious at the Decepticons' feet, Skystalker kicking at Blades' form with contempt. "Oversized pile of scrap. Didn't even see us coming."

"Regardless, our time is limited. Go and open the pods. Axor, stay here with me; if any of them show signs of coming back online…"

"Give 'em the axe." The hunter chuckled darkly as he moved beside Mindwipe. "Easily done."

His hold on the civilians maintained despite his temporary distraction, the Decepticon hypnotist was nonetheless eager to accomplish their mission and be gone. Soon enough, he could hear the Decepticons filing out of the container, with predictable statements, from Icepick…

"Once more, Megatron proves himself a righteous leader!"

…to Crankcase…

"Yes, righteous. Kindly explain why he didn't do it sooner?"

…to Slicer.

"Enough with ze complaining, you foul, mouthy rust-bucket! If you make one more of ze inane complaints, I will…!"

A rumble from Clench silenced them all, the large Decepticon looking to their rescuers with some amusement. "Well I'll be, if it isn't the master of mysticism himself, old Mindwipe. I can hardly believe it."

Mindwipe was in no mood for small talk, as time was of the essence. "Believe it or not, you are rescued. Now let us depart; you must get to safety, and there are other matters to attend to."

"Fine." Looking over the assorted Autobots, he wondered aloud, "One little thing first. Terradive, Jetblade, can you pick out the mechs you two found in the tunnels?" Streetwise and Pyro quickly identified, he noted, "Well, ain't that convenient. Grab 'em." Mindwipe looked as if he wanted to protest, but he was swiftly interrupted. "We've got an example to set, after all."

Opting against further delays, Mindwipe transformed and departed, Clench shifting to his own vehicular mode so that Pyro could be draped over his form. Streetwise was similarly draped over Crankcase's body (the mech complaining every second), and the gathered Decepticons set off until Axor was left. A cruel glimmer in his optics, he looked over at Hot Zone's prone form, and opted to leave a more permanent reminder behind…

---

He'd long been familiar with the sound of metal clanging against metal, but Deadlock had never actually been in a proper sword fight. Still, whether it was due to age or simply because he wanted to teach him a lesson, he couldn't help but feel that Yoketron was going easy on him. Still, he wasn't about to complain.

"In the hands of a master, the sword is the most versatile of weapons!" The old master's blades struck against his students', counterstrikes efficiently blocked with a minimum of movement and effort. "Rifles and blasters, while useful, are clumsy and inefficient! Great care must be taken with them under most circumstances, lest they be irreparably damaged! Swords are another matter! They strike with precision, do not require power sources or ammunition, and are capable of more than simply taking another's spark!"

Deadlock managed to hold the blades at bay briefly. "But swords can still be broken!"

The student then pushed the blades away and continued to block further attacks from his teacher. "Yes, but it is far harder to break a sword than it is a gun or other weapons! And given proper resources, a blade can be repaired! Components for a gun are not so easily obtained, but a good smithy is another matter, even among our kind! And the wisest of sword masters are able to repair their own blades!"

The two broke contact, both stepping back from one another. "But you need to get in close in order to use them. What good will a sword do against someone with a gun or a rifle at a distance?"

"By itself? Nothing. But the use of a sword requires discipline, and calmness of mind. With those, so many worlds and possibilities are opened." Yoketron relaxed his stance and held his swords by the base of their blades rather than by the hilts. "You are correct in your self-assessment, Drift – you are no expert. Your movements are quick and strong, but they are sloppy, wild, and inefficient. Given time they will be better, but you still have much to learn."

The younger mech shifted his grip upon his swords, matching his teacher. "Good thing I have a teacher then." He turned and noticed a larger sword upon the weapons rack, odd glyphs upon its blade and a glowing blue gem embedded in its crossguard. "Sensei, that big sword there. Why not train against me with that? It looks impressive."

"It is impressive, in its own way." The old master returned the blades to their mounts as his student approached. "That sword is a Great Sword, forged long ago. Legends say that they were carried by the First Thirteen, but there is no proof to them. What is true is that these swords are built to be able to generate terrible energies, and potentially penetrate any armor known to Cybertron. But these abilities come with a terrible price."

Before, Deadlock would be unimpressed with such claims, but he saw wisdom in taking Yoketron seriously. "What, like draining power from the spark or something?"

The older mech laughed. "No, it generates its own power. But there is still a price to be paid; the power generators inside create a great deal of feedback the longer the sword is in use. It is safe to be used for one klik or less, but any longer, and the user risks terrible injury. Greater than five kliks and the feedback will totally destroy the user's hands, and sometimes even the sword itself. They are dangerous even in the hands of a master swords-mech, and potentially lethal in the hands of a novice."

Now far more nervous than before, Deadlock quietly kept his distance. "Right, so no touching the big fancy sword. Got it. But why keep it around if it could kill you?"

"Because with responsible use, it won't. Energon flows through each of us, but it is highly explosive, and thus incredibly dangerous. Without it, we could die, but it could still destroy us if used in an unsafe manner. It's the same for many other things, young mech. With discipline and clear thinking, one can understand and master anything, including themselves."

Deadlock watched as the old master repeated his processor-over-matter technique, closing the storage unit, before asking the question that had risen to the top of his processor. "So is that why you're doing all of this? The training and everything? Are you just trying to convince me that staying with Megatron isn't worth it?"

"All I am doing is telling you that you have a choice. What choice you make is left to you." He gestured out of the training area. "Come. You have learned much, and I have a light oil blend which will help you to consider it."

The young mech nodded, and followed his teacher out into the small serving room, a lone monitor playing the main news feed. He caught what was going on out of the corner of his optics, but quickly gave it his full attention – his former comrades were free.

Yoketron quickly noticed the feed, and gave his student a brief glance. "You act surprised. I would have thought you would have anticipated this, and celebrated that your comrades had gained their freedom."

The Decepticon shook his head. "Before this cycle, I would have." He looked to his teacher. "May we talk over drinks, sensei?"

A small smile. "Of course."

---

The doors to repair bay barely opened fast enough to allow Checkpoint entrance, the black and white semi quickly finding his subordinates. Aside from a few superficial injuries, Stakeout, Blades and Landquake looked none the worse for wear, their pride having received the greatest injury. The largest of the three quickly noticed their superior. "Hey boss-mech. Got the bad news, huh?"

"You'd have to be dead to miss it." Anything but pleased with how the transfer had gone, the security officer approached, taking quick note of the three empty berths. Pyro and Streetwise were nowhere to be seen after the attack, but that still left one mech. "Hot Zone?"

"Still in IC." Heads turned as Ratchet entered the main bay, computer pad in hand. "He's stable, though; Red's doing minor touch-ups before we get him into the CR Chamber, but he'll pull through easy enough. I figured you'd want a look at the damages incurred, however."

It barely took a nano-klik for the security officer to glance over the injuries his commander had sustained, but he already had an idea of who was responsible. "Axor."

"Along with Mindwipe and his tinplated turkey of a partner." The red helicopter seethed in rage at the thought of the two Decepticons getting away scot-free. "Next time I see 'em, I'm…" A raised optic ridge from his superior prompted Blades to keep silent about his more vicious intentions for the two Decepticons. "…I'm going to slap stasis cuffs on them and hope they get permanent deactivation as a punishment."

Checkpoint knew full well that his subordinate no doubt wanted something a bit more permanent to be done, but opted to leave it be. He looked to the medic and asked, "How soon until you'll feel comfortable letting them back onto the field?"

"You can have them back after they get a cycle in the CR Chamber. Otherwise, they're staying." Ratchet's optics swept over the three, making sure that his message had been received and acknowledged, then turned back to the security officer. "I'll keep you informed on Hot Zone's progress in the meantime." He turned and made his way back to intensive care, taking quick glances back at his three patients as he went.

"I'll bet you a vorn's worth of rounds of Maccadam's best that Deadlock knows where they've gotten to." Stakeout turned to his superior and offered, "I say we bring him in, sanctuary or no sanctuary, and put him under the strobes until he talks."

"Odds are you're right, but I think it'll be easier to talk to him there than bring him in. And as for the time being…" He tipped his head towards the waiting CR Chambers on the opposite wall. "You three have healing to do. Understood?" Amidst mostly reluctant nods of acknowledgement from the three, Checkpoint turned and left, hoping to get some information from Deadlock before either he escaped his captivity or someone else got to him first.

---

"So, can you fix him?"

"Of course he can fix me. Properly is another…"

"Silence! I must have silence!" Both Clench and Crankcase immediately turned quiet as the diminutive Decepticon prodded about where the latter's left hand had once been. External lenses moving into and out of his vision, Scalpel examined the wound. While one would pressure or the other complain with anyone else, both knew that when a Decepticon medic told you to be silent, you would be silent, lest they permanently remove your audio emission module. A few nanos of examination and the occasional prod with his long, spindly legs, and the tiny medic managed a manic cackle. "Yes! Yes! I can fix zis! I haff ze parts – he vill be fixed! Chop-chop!"

Crankcase didn't like the sound of those last two words, but kept his complaints to himself as Scalpel snapped his tiny manipulators for his assistants, a pair of insectoid nurse-mechs that buzzed over and deposited a replacement part on a waiting table. "And what's that supposed to be? It doesn't look like a hand."

"It iz better zan a hand!" The tiny medic held up the part with reverence. "This iz a modular cannon unit! Optional equipment can be placed on ze muzzle for specific circumstances! Very versatile!"

Clench briefly considered the idea that they were simply out of replacement hands, given their lack of resources. The thought had no doubt crossed Crankcase's mind as well, but he was wisely keeping it to himself. With a laugh, Clench waved his approval. "Get to work, Doctor. He's all yours." He turned and departed the makeshift med bay, Scalpel's gleeful cackles all but drowned out by the door sealing itself shut behind him as he conferred with his rescuers. "So, what about my pain in the aft former second in command? Did the Autobots nail him too, or did he go crawling back to Megatron?"

"Neither. He is banished; orders are to shoot on sight." Mindwipe noticed a surprised look on the larger Decepticon's face. "You find this excessive? Megatron considers him responsible for your incarceration."

A laugh. "Megatron guessed wrong – he's not responsible for the Autobots nabbing us. Not directly, anyway. But the little scraplet's turning into a loose cannon, so I won't feel too bad seeing him go. Slag, if I got the chance, I'd do the job myself."

The hypnotist gave the slightest of shrugs. "In that case, you'll be pleased to hear that we know his location. He's taken sanctuary at the Cyber Ninja Dojo."

Clench's next laugh mixed mirth and disbelief. "With Yoketron? He thinks he'll be safe from us with that old rust bucket? He's obviously gone glitchy in his processors." A wicked look in his optics, he asked, "You think your mechs will be up for a little more fun this cycle?"

Mindwipe's optics narrowed. "I fail to see the usefulness in attacking anywhere, much less that particular location, immediately after you've gained your freedom."

Had he a mouth, the large mech would have cracked a cruel grin. "It's all about sending the right message, Mindwipe. We can't let one mech escape so that he can rat on us. Besides, a mech's gotta know his limitations, and Deadlock ain't quite learned his. Yet."

---

"…and that's pretty much it." Deadlock sipped from his cup and then looked to his teacher, expecting commentary upon his actions. "So, I've gone and slagged myself over, haven't I?"

"That is one very indelicate way of phrasing it." Yoketron's ancient optics met his student's, and an odd smile crossed his face. "Tell me, what prompted you to turn against your own?"

A shrug. "Anger and frustration, mostly. I mean, I started out hiding in the shadows and tunnels, and I joined Megatron because I wanted to get out of them. But here I am, so many vorns later, still stuck in the shadows and tunnels. Yeah, I'm feared now, but that's hardly a positive." He managed a frustrated growl. "I wanted so much, and I still don't have it." Calming down, he looked to the older mech. "I suppose you're going to tell me that there's nothing wrong with what I wanted, only that I went about getting it the wrong way."

"You are not wrong. There is no fault in desiring a better world for yourself or others, or in chasing after an ideal. How and why you do so are another matter, but that is hardly the point. You wanted this war to end, yes?" At his student's nod, the master continued. "And you sought to end it the way you thought was most sensible, by killing as many Autobots as you could, regardless of how you were perceived or where that course took you. You blamed them for the failures of society, for the death of your friend. And Megatron promised a different, better world than the one you started out in, so you followed him."

The Decepticon turned downcast. "And I'm no better than where I started. Worse, I'll probably have my former comrades chasing after me, and the only thing standing between me and getting locked up by the Autobots is you giving me sanctuary." He managed a cruel laugh. "Guess I'm stuck here forever."

"Are you certain of that?" Yoketron smiled as his student looked at him with a raised optic ridge. "Are you the same mech that you were when you first came here, Drift? You have looked upon yourself, questioned yourself, and debated the course that your life has taken thus far. None of us is the same after such things."

"Doesn't do me a lot of good, though, especially considering that secret way out of here doesn't exist." At the old mech's laugh, he pointed out, "What? It's obvious to anyone that a mech like you wouldn't have an escape tunnel. You aren't afraid to die, and you obviously don't run from a fight if it comes to you. Why would you need a secret way out?"

"I never said that it was a physical method of escape like a tunnel, or something as simple as death. In listening to me and heeding my words, you have already begun to emerge from here. You are transforming in a way other than the physical, but the spiritual."

A small laugh. "Well, as nice as it is to hear that my spark is becoming something better, I can't stay here forever. And no way am I going to get out of punishment for what I've done. About all of this has done is…" More laughter, now genuine. "You brilliant old mech. You kept me from going back."

The old master now laughed. "No. I merely showed you that your options are greater than you think. The choice remains with you, as it always has."

A smile. "Yeah. That it does." He looked to his teacher with far more respect than he'd ever thought he could possibly give to someone who was still alive and wasn't a Decepticon, and Deadlock found himself filled with gratitude. "Thank you, sensei. I…" His words were interrupted by the familiar sounds of explosions, prompting him to look in the direction of the main entrance as his smile faded. "I think my past is catching up with me."

"Then let us hope that what little I've taught you will be enough." Yoketron rose to his feet, his student following, and calmly walked through the halls of his dojo to the entrance hall. He grimaced as the wooden doors were blown up, taking note of the assorted silhouettes as they entered. "The door was unlocked, you know."

Clench guffawed as he followed his troops inside, amused by the old master's remark. "Oops. Real sorry about that, old mech. Hope this place is insured." He turned his attention towards his former XO. "You're looking well, Deadlock. Hiding like a coward obviously suits you."

A megacycle previous, and the young mech would have risen to that bait. Now, however, he'd come to appreciate the value of calm restraint. "You all should talk."

"And you should listen." A gesture and Terradive held up Searchlight, the small Autobot still online and struggling with the tip of the Decepticon's trident piercing his shoulder. "Now, I know you didn't lead the 'Bots to us intentionally. Something tells me that we can smooth all this out with Megatron, especially with the hostages we've taken. So, how's about you come with us, and we let all those little issues slide under the deck plates, hmm?"

Deadlock considered his options, weighing what he'd heard earlier and his own personal experiences, both old and new. He admitted, returning to Megatron's forces was tempting, but if it hadn't given him what he'd wanted in the last few vorns, then what were the odds that it would give him what he wanted now? "So I can go back to business as usual then? No thanks. I like it here."

A shrug, then the Decepticon colossus deployed his gun and fired. Deadlock barely dodged as Clench noted, "Suits me. Mechs, let's clean house, hmm?"

"With pleasure!" His new weapon installed, Crankcase opened fire alongside his allies, sending a hail of weapons fire through the area and tearing through much of the entrance hall's wooden walls. Noticing that he hadn't quite hit his target, however, he cried out in frustration, "Oh come on!"

Whether it was due to his own experience or the limited training he'd received from his sensei, Deadlock had managed to avoid most of the weapons fire, what few wounds he'd suffered having only been the odd knick and burn to his armor. He looked to check upon his teacher, finding that Yoketron had fared better than he and not even gotten a scratch, and was now on the offensive, having charged and knocked Icepick about with a few open-handed blows.

Watching the old mech move, Slicer managed a guffaw as he aimed his rifle. "What coward would hide behind an old and frail –?" He was interrupted as Deadlock charged and kicked the rifle out of his hands, using it to tear off the end of Terradive's trident and free Searchlight before turning it on its master, butting its stock into the Decepticon's head and knocking him off-balance before charging and scooping up the Autobot, moving him towards safety despite the fire coming his way. "Please tell me you radioed for help!"

Still managing to keep his pain under control as the two reached cover, Searchlight groaned, "Autobots coming to your rescue? That's the last thing I thought you'd want to see!"

Crankcase quickly getting batted aside, coupled with Terradive's weapon being damaged, prompted Jetblade to back up, not eager to test himself against the old Autobot ninja. Clench merely chuckled and stepped aside, looking to his hypnotic associate. "Feel free to jump in at any time."

Mindwipe looked to the old master, his optics watching his movements. "You overestimate my chances."

"Oh? Don't tell me you can't hypnotize some old rust bucket."

"Of course not. But why bother fighting if you don't need to?"

Just as Yoketron finished subduing Terradive and Jetblade, the wooden roof above came crashing down, Axor falling through it and zapping the old master with one hit from his EMP cannon. He quickly took note of the young turncoat, zapping him and the Autobot with two more swift bursts. The grey mech then shook his head and laughed. "The mightier they are, the harder they fall."

Clench chuckled. "Like I keep on saying, a mech's got to know his limitations." He kicked the old master onto his back, looking over his prone form with amusement as he noticed his optics were still online. "Well, guess that processor-over-matter hoo-hah actually has something to it."

The old master's systems were all but frozen, and what little power he had allowed him to look the Decepticon mobster in the optics and speak, so he chose his words carefully. "There is more to this world than you will ever understand."

"Oh, and I suppose you'll open my optics to that? Show me that there's a better way? Please; like I'm about to fall for that load of slag. Axor, you mind killing this old codger?"

"No!" Heads turned as Deadlock struggled to stand, desperately attempting to fight off the effects of the EMP blast and reboot his systems. "Don't… he's not…!"

Clench laughed. "Oh, this is rich! Spare an Autobot just because you say so? He's clearly fragged up your hard drive. Axor, kill him too. Take your choice about who goes first."

Axor looked between the two, noticing the look of desperation on his former comrade's face, the quiet defiance on the face of the older mech, and the clear contrast between the two. Tilting his head at the younger mech, he made his choice, and drove his axe into Yoketron's chest, bisecting his spark chamber and killing the old master instantly. At the look of horror on Deadlock's face, he commented with satisfaction, "The old mech was closer." He then lifted up his arm, Yoketron still embedded upon it, and brusquely shoved him off. "Now, for you." He then strode up to Deadlock, a cruel look in his optics, and kicked him onto his back, rearing back his axe to send it crashing down.

"Axor."

The horrible sound of crunching and tearing metal shot through the air, the axe having crushed through the former Decepticon's chestplate and neatly bisected the familiar purple insignia upon it. Frustrated at not having gone deep enough to make certain he'd finished the job, Axor looked up and asked, "Yeah?"

"We have company approaching. We will withdraw." Mindwipe's expression was one that discouraged argument. "Besides, our work is done here. He won't last with those injuries."

The hunter huffed, and pried his axe from the wound, following the others out. Deadlock watched them go, the EMP's effects wearing off and the pain hitting him like a shot from a rail gun, made worse by the prone body of Yoketron lying just inside his vision. The old master's bright blue optics were dark, the gentle face now permanently marked by a pained expression. Here he was again, only worse than before. Just like Gasket, an important friend was gone, and all he could do as he faded into stasis lock was croak in mourning. "Sensei…"

---

"My brothers! For vorns now, our world has been attacked by countless, nameless invaders! Our cities have been attacked, our society threatened, untold lives lost! And what have our leaders done? Nothing!"

Rumbles of agreement went through the assembly hall, many Cybertronians having little trouble agreeing with Megatron's words. The Outsider Wars were still fresh in the minds of many Cybertronians, and very few had difficulty remembering the damage that had occurred. And while the invasions had been fought back and the attackers defeated each time, there were many that felt that too little had been done.

"And even before then, in our so-called Golden Age, what was it like? Was it a society where all were able to gain their fair share in life? Was it one where equality was available for all? No! Even now, there are mechs who are outcast, downtrodden in society, forced to scrape at the bottom of the barrel for what they desire! I ask you brothers, is this right?"

"No!" An unknown mech pushed his way forward and looked among the crowd. "I was one of those mechs forced to scrape out a living! I was stuck at the bottom of society! I tried to survive, and I was shoved back down, boots slammed in my face for good measure! They don't care about us! All they care about is themselves!"

A smile, perhaps of approval, perhaps of pleasure, perhaps of simply finding an opportunity, formed on Megatron's face. "You are absolutely correct, young mech! This world must change, so that all of us can benefit! But they will oppose us, and attempt to shove us down just as they did to you! I say, let them try!" As the gathered masses cried out, he turned to the mech before him. "Your name."

"Drift."

A laugh. "That was your old name. You need a new one, more fitting for a Decepticon warrior! From this point on, you shall be Deadlock, and you will fight beside me!" He looked back to the crowd and called, "Who will do the same?"

Rousing cheers faded into the sounds of explosions, all the battles flowing into one another and their distinctive events turning into a blur.

"You really shocked by that, Drift? In all that time, did anything really change?"

Yes and no. If anything, things had gotten worse. By some miracle they hadn't dragged the planet into a quagmire of war, but things hadn't gotten better in all that time.

"They may not have been as bad as you thought."

The government was corrupt, or at least stagnant. It couldn't provide for its people.

"And Megatron would? He launched open warfare. He killed Primus knows how many Autobots, Decepticons, Mini-Cons and non-aligned Cybertronians in order to start his new world order. Mechs weren't killed en masse in the system we knew before him."

The same system that killed you, Gasket?

"No system's perfect, Drift. But what would you rather have – an imperfect system, or one where we're at the mercy of a tyrant? We may have been doing it to survive, but we were still stealing, still breaking laws. That doesn't mean what happened to me was right, but it doesn't mean that Megatron would give us something better. You want to change the world, you gotta work with what's there. It's a lot easier than starting from scratch."

The younger mech shook his head. "I wish I'd gotten that a long time ago. Now it's too late, I guess." He looked to his old friend, the smile clear on his face. "What? You're telling me it isn't? I'm talking to you! I'm dead!"

Gasket laughed. "Yes and no. You are talking to me, but you're definitely not dead." An odd blue glow forming beside them, the nonaligned mech noted, "He is, though. But something tells me that striking him down wasn't the smartest thing to do."

Optics wide, the young mech watched as his sensei took on semi-corporeal form before him. "Yoketron-sensei? How…?"

The spirit smiled in a comforting manner. "To one such as I, death is not a barrier. My spark still lingers – I've still some things left to do. And you aren't to return to the Allspark just yet."

He looked down at his chest, noticing the small Decepticon emblem upon it. "Deadlock definitely is." The purple insignia, once a source of pride to him, broke down and dissolved into dust, while the young mech looked to his two dead friends. "But Drift still has a lot of living left to do."

Both spirits smiled, and Gasket offered, "You'd better get started, then."

---

Consciousness was slowly returning to him as his systems came back online, his audials kicking back in before his optics and letting him pick up on nearby conversations.

"For the last time, you won't be arresting any mechs under the care of this medical bay and its staff. You want him? You can wait until after he's repaired."

"That Decepticon slagheap's responsible for Primus knows how much damage! And it wouldn't surprise me if he's responsible for Hot Zone getting scrapped! We need to interrogate him now before…!"

"Hot Zone is recovering."

"What about the mech who was found with me?" Both Ratchet and King Atlas turned to face Drift as he attempted to sit up on his berth, not quite strong enough to do so but nonetheless trying. "Small Autobot, turned into a helicopter. Did they take him with them, or…?"

The medic immediately rushed to the former Decepticon's side, easing him back down. "Steady. Searchlight's fine."

"Which is more than can be said about you!" Seemingly ignoring the earlier statement, the ivory jet stepped forward. "Deadlock, you are officially under arrest! Your charges are conspiracy, terrorism against the state, destruction of property…!"

"King Atlas! If you do not leave this facility of your own accord with all your limbs, you'll do so unconscious and without them!" The air commander looked to the new arrival, and opted to leave while he still could. It was the rare Autobot that didn't heed a warning like that from Red Alert. He finally exited, and the chief medic turned to his newest patient. "That won't keep him out for long, I'm afraid. Any Decepticon working under Megatron being in our custody is a big deal to him."

"And I have the misfortune of being one of the more infamous." He shook his head, even less happy about his past catching up with him now. Still, he had to deal with it, and there were other concerns besides him. "Listen, I'm gonna need to talk with someone soon. When the dojo was attacked, Clench mentioned hostages. I think I know where they are, but if they know I'm online…"

"They don't. And you'll get a chance to speak with someone as soon as your injuries have healed enough, Deadlock."

Not about to argue, the former Decepticon managed a resigned sigh. "Fine. Mind doing me a favor, though? Deadlock was what Megatron called me – it isn't the name I came online with, and I'm done answering to it. My real name is Drift."

The two medics looked to one another, both a little perplexed at this request but neither about to argue. Red eventually looked down at their patient with a nod. "Fine. Whatever you want to be called, you're here to be healed, not interrogated. But I wouldn't try running."

Drift relaxed. Even if he could, he wouldn't; he was long finished running at this point.

---

"Pyro? Pyro, you with me?"

The fire engine slowly regained consciousness, his systems getting back online after what felt like an eternity. As his optics flickered back on, Pyro looked about, quickly finding himself suspended from the ground, stasis cuffs over both his arms and legs and a smaller manacle over his right bicep, his weapons clearly removed. He looked over to Streetwise and noticed he was in similar condition. "Just another fine mess we've gotten ourselves into, eh?"

"Something like that." The black police interceptor looked about, reassessing their surroundings for what was the seventeenth time. "The good news is that we're online. The bad news is that we're captured, locked in stasis cuffs, and trapped in an unknown location. And even if we could break out of these things, our firearms are gone and we can't get the manacles off, meaning our weapons systems are offline."

"Even worse, we're stuck in a room with horrible décor." At his partner's quirked optic ridge, the larger of the two noted, "Just saying. Now, how soon do you think it will be before they interrogate us?"

"Assuming they interrogate us."

Pyro managed a frustrated and disappointed sound not unlike a growl. "The oil can is always half-empty with you, isn't it?"

"I'm being realistic. Ever since the Eclipse Team was captured, Megatron has held a very strict policy against taking prisoners. Either our hosts want us to suffer for a bit, or they want to give him the chance to kill us himself."

The door leading into the chamber opened, and Clench stepped in. "Howdy, 'Bots." It slammed shut behind him as he looked over the pair. "My, aren't we handsome?" Neither answered him, and he tutted. "And here I was hoping one of you would decide to comment on my whole glitter motif."

Managing a shrug despite his restraints, Pyro noted, "Rather obvious, isn't it?"

The Decepticon colossus turned to the Autobot, a malicious look on his face. "That it is." He faced him and noted, "Now, I want some information."

Pyro pursed his lips and considered his next words carefully before he spoke. "Alright, let's see. The constellation of Kasteborous consists of at least six stars, all readily visible from Iacon save during stellar opposition. Hassium is thus far only known to naturally occur on Brasta, albeit in very small quantities. Your glitter effect is probably due to some ceramic armor enhancement, with the odd bit of emerald thrown in, possibly some malachite as well; mineralogy really isn't my strong suit, so Swerve could probably say more, but…" Clench's gun found itself in his face, and he quickly changed tact. "Ah. Not interested in odds bits of trivia and conjecture then?"

The Decepticon shook his head. "Definitely not from you." He turned to Streetwise and said, "Now, something tells me that me killing your talkative friend won't get you to talk, but it'll be another matter entirely if I kill you."

Streetwise's response was quick and in accordance with traditional procedures. "My designation is Streetwise. My assignment is with the Autobot Security Forces, commanding officer Hot Zone. My serial number is 8694 dash 10."

Pyro immediately chimed in. "My designation is Pyro. My assignment is with the Autobot Security Forces, commanding officer Hot Zone. My serial number is 9394 dash 10."

No longer amused, Clench added, "Well, my designation is Clench, and my assignment…" He paused to fire a round dangerously close to Pyro's leg. "…is with the Decepticons who don't take kindly to cheap jokes." Deciding that they hadn't been sufficiently intimidated, he turned and left the same way he came. "You mechs get comfy; you'll be here a spell."

The door sealed shut behind him, and the younger mech managed a relieved sigh. "Well, that bought us a little time."

"Hopefully, enough for a rescue." Glancing up at the bonds, Streetwise made a mental note to ask Getaway how he managed to get out of these things, all the while thanking Nightbeat for the odd lessons in countering interrogation, as well as allowing him to tolerate Pyro's occasional babbling. Opting to keep their minds off their all-but-inevitable doom, he decided to turn attention towards other topics. "So, who do you like for the Primus League Cup?"

Surprised that his partner actually cared about sports but glad to have something to discuss that didn't involve dying, the fire engine immediately chipped in. "Oh, Stanix, easily. They've got Krok, after all. You?"

"Tyrest. Never bet against Nosecone."

---

Drift emerged from the CR Chamber, quietly flexing his joints and running a quick self-diagnostic. The gaps in his arms where his built-in laser batteries had been remained, but he was in no rush to replace them. In a strange way, he was happy to be without them; they were a part of Deadlock, after all, and that mech was for all intents and purposes dead now. He just wasn't looking forward to proving that to the rest of Cybertron; he knew that it wouldn't happen quickly.

"Sorry if you don't like the new look." His optics darted towards Ratchet, the medic looking apologetic. "Quite a few of your components had been damaged. We had to replace many of them."

He looked to a nearby reflective surface and quickly noticed the changes. Most of the black armor on his shoulders, chest and legs had been replaced with similar components, though with white now the predominant color. Even his head had undergone some slight cosmetic changes, his optics now blue rather than red and his helmet significantly different than before. "Actually, I like it." He turned back to the medic and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Ratchet waved him off. "Autobot, Decepticon or otherwise, it's my job to patch mechs up. Of course, now that you're healed, you're probably going to have different problems. Red can't keep Atlas out forever, and you don't exactly have an easy means of escape in here."

A nod. "Escape is the last thing on my processor right now. Like I said, I need to…"

"The only thing you need to do is consider yourself under arrest, Deadlock!" Barging back into the medical bay past a cross Red Alert, King Atlas raised a pair of stasis cuffs. "There's going to be a delivery to the stockade today, and one prisoner is better than none!"

"Atlas, stand down!" Ratchet quickly stepped between his patient and his superior, fully aware that he was only delaying the inevitable. "Don't you think it's a little more important to hear what he has to say before tossing him into a stasis cell?"

"You honestly expect me to believe any slag this lying Decepticon has to say?" Jabbing a finger into the medic's chest, the white jet added, "And he's repaired now! You don't have the authority to tell me to stand down if I want to arrest him!"

"But I do." Heads immediately turned, Drift's optics widening in surprise at the mech standing at the entrance to the medical bay. Tall and bulky, with wide red shoulders and blue legs, it was the one Autobot that all Cybertronians recognized on sight. His optics fixed on his subordinate, Optimus Prime ordered, "Stand down, Atlas. I'd like to speak with the prisoner." Amid the jet's sputtering protests, the Autobot leader stepped forward and politely offered a hand. "Drift, I assume?"

"Yes, Optimus." The younger mech accepted the offered hand. "Thank you, but why are you here?"

"I heard that Yoketron gave you sanctuary. He and I were friends, and I wanted to speak with his last pupil." Optimus looked to Red Alert. "May we?" At the head medic's nod, the Autobot leader led the young prisoner out.

As they exited the medical bay, Drift looked at the red semi in confusion. "No stasis cuffs? No leading me off to the stockade?"

"I get the feeling they won't be needed. And if you decided to run off, you wouldn't get far anyway, between me and my security detail."

A nod. "That doesn't surprise me." The two continued down the hallway, windows to their left giving them a clear view of the Iacon skyline and prompting Drift to make quick glances at it. "I've never seen that before. Iacon, I mean. I never even thought I'd see it."

"There are times when I think even the best of us take it for granted."

"That doesn't surprise me either." Realizing he sounded a bit too bitter, he quickly added, "Sorry, but…"

"Don't apologize, I understand what you meant." Optimus looked to the younger mech and explained, "I know your story, Drift. I've seen it many times, and I expect it's as common on other worlds as it is on this one. It doesn't excuse what you've done, but it certainly helps to explain it."

A sad nod. "I wanted a better world. Megatron said he could give it to me. Obviously, he hasn't."

"Ironically, many of the things that Megatron wanted to do have happened. We've expanded to other worlds, we've increased the size of our military, but they happened because he went renegade, not because he encouraged it. And those under him have hardly received the benefits."

"And something tells me that many of the mechs not under him haven't gotten many themselves." Drift looked at Optimus with some bitterness. "There's still empties out there, for one reason or another."

"The unemployed and homeless are a part of every society, Drift. The most civilization can do is give them a chance to play an active role – it's up to them to decide what they want to do, or how they want to apply themselves. I can't force them to do anything, for obvious reasons, only give them a chance."

The younger mech nodded sadly. He wanted to come up with a counter-argument, but he doubted that anything he could think of would be effective, especially given the saying that the Autobot leader was most famous for. "I suppose my chance has been wasted then, given all I've done, the mechs I've killed."

"Not necessarily." At Drift's surprised look, Optimus explained, "You said that you can help us to rescue the hostages that Clench took. There isn't a mech in the judiciary that wouldn't take that into consideration."

"But I'd still go to the stockades, wouldn't I? That wouldn't absolve me of my crimes."

"No, but aiding us would help to absolve your conscience."

Drift looked out over the Iacon skyline again. Two mega-cycles ago, he didn't feel any guilt about what he'd done. Now was another matter; he had a lot of atoning to do, and he wouldn't let anyone else die if he could help it. "That it would." He turned back to Optimus. "Alright. Take me to whoever I need to see. I'll tell you everything I know."

Under his faceplate, the Autobot leader smiled. "Come with me."

---

Lockdown slowed to a halt in front of the Dojo as he transformed and looked over the place. The structure itself hadn't suffered significant damage, and save for the front doors having been broken down and the presence of the holographic barriers in front, a casual observer would have an easy time thinking the place was the same as it always was. Still, he was anything but a casual observer. Despite himself, the Decepticon huffed and shook his head. "You just had to stick your neck out, Sensei." A faint sound hit his audials, and he quickly smirked. "Easy there, mechs. I ain't crossing the barrier; I know a crime scene when I see it."

"We can't be too careful, now can we?" The hunter turned to find Prowl standing nearby, one rifle at the ready and pointed at his chest while the other was stored away, waiting to be used. "I wouldn't be surprised if a mech like you decided to snatch up a souvenir to remember your old master."

Lockdown wasn't eager to test the security officer and maintained a neutral expression. "Don't need a souvenir. Sensei wasn't the kind to forget any of his students; odds are he left something for me in his will. Between that and chasing down the mechs responsible for this, I'll be fine." A smirk forming, he added, "Besides, something tells me someone from the Corps has already been by to clean out the weapons cache. Probably Jazz or Heavy Load, maybe Springer, but whoever took them, there's still no point trying if all the good stuff is gone. I just wanted to catch sight of this place one last time."

The security bot's optics narrowed, but he lowered his gun. "Leave Clench and his group to us, Lockdown. One mech alone can't take them, and there's no set bounty."

The hunter laughed. "You think my only motivation is money, Prowl? Believe it or not, mechs like me do have standards." He transformed and revved his engine, calling out before speeding off, "And who said anything about me taking them on alone?"

Prowl watched the bounty hunter depart, shaking his head with some disbelief. As disinclined towards trust and understanding as he was, he could never figure out how a bounty hunter's processor worked, and he was probably better off not knowing.

---

"Odds are good that Clench and Mindwipe's group is still hiding in Uraya. Leaving that sector is going to be hazardous no matter when they do it, and aside from that, they know the terrain." A holographic representation of the city state appeared before the gathered mechs as Quickstrike elaborated, "Nonetheless, that doesn't make it any easier to find them. The nanotech tracking devices we used before are all but useless after all this time, and it's doubtful the same trick could work twice." He turned to Drift. "That leaves you to point us in the proper direction."

The former Decepticon looked at the gathered Autobots, the strategist first, before asking the obvious question. "You're all willing to trust me to give you the answer you need?"

Checkpoint raised the obvious explanation. "At this point, we don't have many options. Besides, helping us is in your best interest, unless you actually want to spend the rest of eternity locked in stasis."

The young mech knew full well that he deserved a lot of things, but he doubted that particular fate was one of them. He looked over the projection, considering where his former allies could be. "Can you zoom in on the southern quadrants?" Quickstrike complied, and he explained, "We stick to the tunnels when we can, but when we have to break for the surface, we'd go for the shortest, quickest routes we can to neighboring territories. And the closest one that would get us to anything even remotely approaching safety is here, close to the Neutral Territories. Most mechs there would be perfectly willing to turn a blind optic to anyone." The projection zoomed in on the shortest bridge connecting the two portions of Cybertron. "And we tended to rotate between three hideouts in the area, all abandoned structures. Can you highlight the ones I point to?" At the strategist's nod, Drift pointed out the buildings. "That's the most I can give you."

"That's better than where we started." Checkpoint turned to the young mech, a genuine smile on his face. "It must take a lot for you to help us like this. Thank you."

"A while ago, it would have been impossible." Regret on his face, Drift asked, "I don't suppose you have an old, unsolved case where a trio of Autobot security officers and a nameless mech were found dead, all killed with standard issue weapons, do you?"

"We've had a strong suspect for a long time, actually. A few public defenders are even willing to take it in court and help that suspect, given what had been done by said security officers." At Drift's surprised look, the security officer explained, "Gasket wasn't the only one those officers killed, and that mech they'd taken in wasn't the only one they'd been brutal towards. It doesn't make what you did any less wrong, but it doesn't make them candidates for Prime."

Drift looked at the gathered Autobots, thinking about how they'd treated him despite him confirming this crime while being guilty of others, and found himself perplexed. He finally looked at Optimus and asked, "How could those mechs have the same badge as you?"

"There are a number of Decepticons who ask the same about Megatron." Deciding that there were more important things to worry about, the Autobot leader got them back on topic. "In any case, we need some method of finding their exact location. If we hit one of the other two, then there's a strong chance that they'll simply kill the hostages and run off faster than before. We need a method that will work."

"Or maybe you just need another hostage." Heads turned as Drift explained, "Clench thinks I'm dead. He finds out I'm alive, and he'll definitely want to rectify that mistake, and he'd prioritize catching me over killing the hostages he's got."

Checkpoint looked at his prisoner in disbelief. "You realize that if this goes wrong, you'll die along with our mechs."

"And if it goes right, then all of them live." Heads turned as Hot Zone entered with short, unsteady steps. "And if we don't try, then our mechs die. I'm not gonna let that happen if I can help it."

Not about to argue with his commanding officer, especially in front of his overall superior, the police semi turned to Drift and asked, "I'm guessing you have a plan?"

A small smile appeared on the former Decepticon's face. "The start of one."

---

"I still think that simply killing them is the preferable option, if you aren't going to bother to interrogate them properly."

"And by 'interrogate them properly' I assume you mean let you have a go at them with your fancy hypnotic powers?" Clench laughed, brushing off Mindwipe's suggestion. He'd had his prisoners left in suspense for several cycles, and he was enjoying leaving them there a little longer. "If I wanted information out of them, I'd have done that. It's a lot more fun to simply let 'em stew in their own fluids and hang on to whatever slivers of hope they have left."

A quirked optic ridge. "Until you finally decide to kill them?"

"Nah. Until I get the information I want." The sharp scuttling of metallic limbs alerted them to another presence, and the mobster glanced down to find Scalpel approaching, a component from Pyro's weapon in his tiny claws. "Hi Doctor. What's your diagnosis?"

"Thiz iz most interesting!" Holding up the part, he explained, "I haff found traces of nanotech constructs in ze weapon!"

"Nanotech, eh? You scan my mechs for them?"

"Indeed! I haff found nanotech transmitters embedded in Terradive and Jetblade's armor! A countermeasure can easily be applied!"

"That does explain how your unit was located so quickly." Mindwipe looked to Clench and asked, "Now, are you satisfied enough to simply kill the Autobots, or will you let Lord Megatron have that pleasure?"

The emerald Decepticon chuckled darkly. "Why let him spoil my fun?"

Before Mindwipe could chide the larger Decepticon for his apparent immaturity, he was distracted, a message coming in on his secure link. :"Mindwipe, I've got a reading outside; it's Deadlock's spark signature. Either someone's faking him being alive, or we didn't quite kill him properly. Any complaint about taking him out?":

The hypnotist briefly considered mentioning his findings to Clench, but kept them to himself. :"None whatsoever.":

---

Had he a mouth, Skystalker would've grinned at the thought of his next course of action. This was what he loved most – swooping down out of the sky, snatching up helpless victims, then either delivering them painfully into the clutches of his partner or sending them careening to their deaths from a terrible height. Admittedly, that was much more difficult to do with the average Cybertronian, but multiple attempts would get the job done well enough.

Sensors primed, he swept over the area, catching sight of Deadlock. His coloration had changed slightly, but his alt-mode and spark signature remained the same. How he was still alive wasn't a shocker – Axor was never thorough. His being repaired was no surprise either, given the way the Autobots tended to treat prisoners. His being out and about was a surprise, but he'd quickly regret escaping.

Stealth systems online, Skystalker leapt from his perch and transformed, his engines going silent as he swooped through the air and crept up behind his unsuspecting victim. He'd done it a million times, and he'd do it a million times more. And each time would be sweeter than…

Quicker than a flash, Drift transformed and drew two short swords, spinning about and jamming them into his former comrade's jet intakes. He skidded to a halt and flipped backwards, regaining his footing as Skystalker cried out in terror and transformed, hobbling about on his feet before the former Decepticon slapped him hard in the chest. Growling, the stealth operative finally tore the swords from his legs and drew his axes, stopping just long enough for Drift to produce a small remote. "Careful, this is a dead mech's switch." His lone optic shutter widening at that phrase, he looked down at his chest to find a second device, a flashing red light upon it, giving the larger mech time to explain, "I don't press a button on this thing every five kliks, and you'll suddenly find yourself with a hole in your chest big enough to stick your arm through. And this thing has three buttons." Retrieving one of his swords, Drift pointed it and stated, "You and Mindwipe are linked at the hip joint. He's with Clench. I think you can do the math."

---

The hatch to their hideout slid open, and Skystalker tossed the prone form of Drift inside, the larger mech skidding to a halt at Clench and Mindwipe's surprised feet. Before the two could begin to ask what was going on, he called out, "Call the doctor! I've got a bomb on my chest!"

Clench snapped his fingers, Scalpel immediately scuttling over while he leaned down and picked up his former subordinate's prone form. "Looks like Deadlock's gotten himself a slight makeover. Here I'd hoped he was in Autobot custody. Or better, dead." He decided against commenting on Mindwipe's obvious subterfuge and called out, "Doctor, your prognosis?"

"Explosive device!" On getting the dead mech's switch from Skystalker, the tiny Decepticon explained further, "Three buttons! One makes it go boom! One delays boom! Last one deactivates device!" Examining it, he added, "Buttons unlabeled!"

Not pleased at that answer, Clench suggested, "Well, press one and find out what happens." Ignoring Skystalker's terrified expression, he continued, "Two in three chances we don't end up with a dead mech on our hands."

"Hold. There's a simpler solution." Mindwipe reached down and picked up Drift's body. A small jolt, and the mech had regained consciousness. "Much better." His optics glowing, he asked, "Now, which button deactivates the device?"

The answer was immediate. "The middle one."

Mindwipe realized a nano-klik too late that the answer had come a little too fast, as Scalpel pressed the designated button and his subject's optics went dark. The device on Skystalker's chest stopped flashing, only to suddenly erupt with light, blinding the four Decepticons and causing the hypnotist to release Drift, who landed and drew his swords. As his optics came back online, he turned to deal with Clench first just as Skystalker charged, axes drawn, and drew his attention elsewhere. The larger of the two stealthy Decepticons chuckled at this. "Foolish mech. We operate best in the dark. Clench, you and the Doctor had best deal with our prisoners. We'll handle Deadlock."

Clench considered protested, but opted against it, slowly making his way out of the room. "Just don't slag him, alright? I want to do that myself."

Ruby daggers deployed from Mindwipe's limbs as he and Skystalker circled their former comrade. "You have been fortunate so far, young mech, but your fortune has run out. Few mechs could counter my abilities; Yoketron was one of them, thanks to processor-over-matter, but I doubt that he has taught you that skill. You'll not fare long against the two of us, and brute strength should more than suffice in dealing with you."

His optics shifted uneasily between the two stealth mechs. Even when he was Deadlock, Drift wasn't stupid enough to try fighting them, and temporarily blinding the pair had only removed Mindwipe's hypnotic powers from the equation. The odds were still pretty poor.

Then Skystalker found himself with a hook going around his waist, his legs lopped off and his upper half kicked away. "Y'know something, Mindwipe? Sensei was always pretty firm about the whole 'look before you leap' thing." A smug look on his face, Lockdown strode forward and asked, "Need a servo, kid?"

Drift grinned back. "I'll take what I can get." Him against the two Decepticons was one thing. Him and Lockdown against Mindwipe? That was a whole other story.

---

:"Crankcase, Jetblade, Terradive, this is Clench. Kill the prisoners.":

Crankcase's optics rolled as the line went out. "Wonderful. First we don't kill them and take them prisoner, now we're killing them. Why couldn't we have just killed them from the start?"

"Slagging good question, but not something I'm worried about." Trident in hand, Terradive led his comrades towards where the two Autobot prisoners were being kept. "So which one do we take out first, the chatty one or the mute?"

Jetblade eagerly chimed in with his opinion. "I say the chatty one! He's funny, but he gets annoying after a while." Rocket launchers in hand, he added, "Let's just make sure he's properly dead, hmm? Take him apart piece by piece or something."

"Oh, as if we can't tell the difference. I worked in waste management, and I can tell you, you don't have to be Deadlift to spot a corpse."

A quirked optic from the white and blue VTOL craft. "I thought Deadlift was on the other side."

A groan. "He is. Slagging little mortician's probably laughing at me right now."

The hatch to the holding cell opened, and the three looked in at the two prisoners. Catching sight of their new visitors, Pyro looked up and exclaimed, "It's about time! Now, if you're going to execute us, better do it properly – we demand a last request!"

Electricity charging between the prongs of his weapon, the orange jet trod forward slowly. "Sorry, I don't do requests."

The fire engine looked unfazed, flashing a manic grin. "Oh, but I've got a good one! You don't even have to get me anything, honest!"

An aggravated groan, and Terradive rolled his optics. "Fine! What is it?"

Pyro tipped his head towards his partner. "Listen to him."

Streetwise's tone and facial features remained neutral, but his next words nonetheless sounded slightly smug. "Incoming."

An explosion sounded above them, and the three looked up with just enough time to see Landquake come crashing down from above, fully armed and armored up. The bulky Autobot landed and knocked Crankcase and Jetblade aside, following it up by firing his lone missile at the surprised Terradive. The way cleared, Armorhide then jumped down and waved to their associates with his free hand, the other holding his rifle. "Hi mechs! Sorry to keep you hanging!"

The ebon Autobot interceptor opted to let the bad joke slide as the stasis cuffs were deactivated and their manacles removed. "How'd you find us?"

"Deadlock defected, long story." Producing replacements for the two mech's weapons, Landquake noted, "I think you'll be needing these."

As Pyro fitted his new cannon into place, Streetwise caught his new photon pistol. "He led you here willingly?"

"He came up with the whole plan, tracking device and all." Nudging down the corridor, the large Autobot suggested, "You two better go and back him up. We'll take care of these three."

---

Even with the slight advantage of a blinded opponent and Lockdown's help, Drift couldn't help but think that he could've used a little more time under Yoketron's tutelage. As sharp and as fast as he and his fellow student were, Mindwipe was just as fast, and his ruby daggers just as sharp. After what had felt like an eternity of blade strikes being traded, the Decepticon hypnotist broke his silence and spoke. "Do you really wish to waste your time with me, Deadlock? Axor killed Yoketron. Clench allowed it to happen. What is the better course; fighting me, or ending –?"

Mindwipe was interrupted as a stasis bolt shot into his back, instantly knocking out his systems. His opponents looked up to find Pyro and Streetwise standing opposite them, the latter keeping his weapons raised while the former lowered his. "Well, that takes care of that quandary, doesn't it?" It took a nano-klik for him to recognize the former Decepticon, but Pyro soon offered, "Deadlock? If you've got unfinished business, go ahead and take it. We can clean up here easy enough."

With some relief that his former adversary didn't seem to hold any hard feelings, the young mech answered, "It's Drift now, but no thanks. I came to get you two free, not get revenge."

Lockdown managed a dry chuckle and countered, "Word of advice, proto, but there's a world of difference between justice and revenge. And frankly, gettin' them off the streets now is a lot better than doin' it later."

"But we don't know where they…"

:"Rescue team, this is Searchlight – I've got a visual on Axor and Slicer. They're at the southern end of the compound.":

Drift suddenly found himself with mixed feelings about being linked with the Autobots' radio broadcasts. "Alright, never mind. We're on the eastern end. Follow me." The others swiftly started following him as he made his way through the corridors. "By the way, about earlier? I obviously…"

Pyro cheerfully interrupted. "Apology accepted! By the way, good name change!"

Drift smiled. "Thanks, but it's the one I started with! Long story!"

Streetwise could already see where this was going, and they had bigger problems on the horizon. "Tell us later!"

As the rest made their way out, Lockdown broke off, taking his own route out. The kid and the Autobots would still need his help, but a little surprise went a long way.

---

Clench's optic sensors were recovering, albeit slowly, but even without them, he knew the layout of this compound enough to know where to find his weapons stash. Pulling out a shield and a long barreled pulse rifle from his locker, he found himself looking down at the far less fortunate Scalpel, the medic furiously skittering about and clawing at his optics. "Calm down and climb up on something, Doc, or you'll just get stepped on."

If the tiny medic had heard him, he certainly didn't acknowledge him. "MEIN OPTICS! I CANNOT SEE!"

The Decepticon colossus rolled his optics, carefully picking up the disabled mech with his free hand. There was still a fight to be won, but he wasn't about to just step on one of his comrades. Not nearly enough time to clean up the mess for one thing, and he was too useful to just leave behind. "Icepick, this is Clench. Don't know whether you've noticed, but we've got company. Meet up with me – we're getting the frag out of this mess." Not even waiting for the reply, he switched to another channel. "Axor, Slicer, we're leaving. Clear a path for us."

:"We are doing zis, my liege, but…!":

"But?"

---

"But it will be taking a while!" Cutting off the line, Slicer looked up from behind his cover and called out to the Autobot attackers. "Silly Autobot security types! You cannot catch me! Now go away, before I taunt you some more!"

A stasis bolt between the optics, and the oddly-accented Decepticon went down, Stakeout managing a smug grin. "Gotcha!"

"About slagging time you shut him up!" Rotors clashing against his opponent's weapon, Blades continued pounding against Axor, neither one letting up against the other. The Autobot finally finished things by roping up the Decepticon's legs with his winch, tightening the noose and sending him falling onto his back. Detaching his rotors, Blades planted a foot on his opponent's chest and raised his blade up, more than ready to deliver the killing blow. "Any last words?"

"Yeah." Axor lanced off a few quick shots with his EMP cannon, stunning both Autobots. As Blades fell, he regained his footing and snarked, "If you're gonna kill a mech, do it. Don't waste their time or yours."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Axor turned as Clench emerged, Icepick and a now calmer Scalpel in tow. "Now, let's get out of here before their friends decide to show up and…" Weapons came online behind him, prompting Clench to turn his head and take note of his pursuers. "Well, that was quick." He turned. "Like the new look, Deadlock, but the swords don't suit you."

"They suit me just fine." Pyro and Streetwise raising their weapons in the corners of his optics, Drift kept his swords at the ready. "All of you get one chance. Surrender."

"Surrender? To a traitor like you?" Stepping forward with indignation in his optics, Icepick called out, "How dare you betray us like this, Deadlock? How dare you betray Megatron? If Lugnut were here, he –!"

"If Lugnut were here, I'd still be doing this!" His raised voice getting silence from the Decepticon, the young mech continued, "Ever take a nano-klik to look at the world around you, Icepick? In case you hadn't noticed, it hasn't gotten better since Megatron started his glorious revolution! Chaos reigns in the streets! Innocent mechs are killed! The Decepticons as a faction have been tarnished by him! What good did it do for Master Yoketron to die, Icepick? He was an Autobot, fine, but he was no soldier! Whatever ideals Megatron may have held at the start, he's not following them, and I refuse to be a pawn for a petty tyrant any longer!"

An uneasy silence followed, broken only by Clench breaking out in laughter. "Oh, this is rich! Axor!"

The Decepticon hunter sprinted around his superior, EMP cannon firing. All three of his targets dodged, the hunter preparing another round of fire just as a low-slung muscle car charged and slammed into him head-on from one side of the compound. As his opposite recovered, Lockdown transformed and grinned. "Never quite got used to being aware of your surroundings, Axor!" Hook ready, he called to his allies, "You have your fun with the rest! This guy's all mine!"

The odds now clearly back in their favor, Pyro and Streetwise opened fire, knocking Icepick out and sending Scalpel flying from the force of impact. The stasis bolts did absolutely no good against Clench, however, and the Decepticon colossus opened fire, forcing them to move to one side and reload with different weapons as Drift engaged his former commander. Still laughing as the former Decepticon's swords barely scratched his shield, he asked, "You had to go and fall for all that mushy Autobot goodness, didn't you? Slagging little idealists like you are the worst, Deadlock, especially when they're on the other side!"

Axe lodged in his opponent's hook, Axor found himself staring into Lockdown's face, his tone indicating his pleasure. "Always wanted to cross paths with you! You're a legend!"

The bounty hunter didn't share his amusement. "And you're a knock-off!" A grin formed on his face, and Lockdown admitted, "Decent weapons, though! What's that axe made of, tritanium? That had to be hard to come by! And where'd you get that EMP cannon, anyway?"

A laugh. "Swiped it out of a development plant! Medibots thought they'd use it as a medical tool!" He aimed the weapon and fired, knocking out the mech before him. "Fortunately, I'm using it a little more effectively." He shook Lockdown's hook loose, only for the hook to wrap around the weapon and cut through it, destroying it.

As Axor stumbled back in shock, Lockdown came back online and noted, "Redundant systems. Always a good idea. Now, what else you got?"

The grey hunter growled and opened his subspace pocket. What emerged was instantly recognizable to any student of Yoketron, a long sword with a glowing blue gem turbine in its crossguard, its blade crackling with energy even as Axor took hold of it. "Like it? Picked it off an antiques dealer in Tyrest. Mech didn't know what he had, and he never will!" Energy crackling along the Great Sword like lightning, the hunter attacked, his opponent forced to weave side to side in order to survive.

Still behind cover, Pyro and Streetwise had finished reloading their weapons, quickly emerging to take a few quick shots at Clench but unable to penetrate his armor. The pair ducked back behind cover, Pyro summing it up as best he could. "Well, that was brilliant! Where's Landquake when you need him?"

"Probably making sure everyone else is taken care of!" A quick analysis of what he'd seen of the armor, and Streetwise noted, "Still, calling him in wouldn't be a bad idea! That glitter effect on his armor? It's probably laced with Furmanite!"

"Definitely explains the oil-lust then!" Pyro brought his comm.-link online. "Autobots, this is Pyro, requesting backup, I repeat, requesting…!" The familiar hiss of static blocked the signal, and he realized, "Interference! The destroyed EMP cannon?"

The Autobot interceptor glanced towards the weapon that Lockdown was trying so hard to avoid, and realized their problem wasn't the ruined gun. "Something else!"

Indeed, the Great Sword in Axor's hand was crackling with electric blue light, the feedback already beginning to accumulate into its wielder's hand. Just as the hunter laughed at the power he was wielding, either unaware of the consequences of his actions or uncaring, he found himself hit with a stasis bolt in the back, the sword dropping from his hand as he fell. The electricity died down, and Streetwise took advantage of the end of interference to activate his comm.-link. "Searchlight, this is Streetwise! Copy?"

:"Reading you and seeing you loud and clear! You need help?":

"Roger that!"

Even as that small victory had occurred, the group still had one more problem as Clench batted Drift to the ground with his shield, finally pinning him in place at his chest with one end as he locked weapons on the two Autobots. "Now you stay put, and don't bother struggling! You can't break through this shield with those little trimmers!"

Drift briefly considered struggling, but soon halted. He needed to keep himself relaxed, think calmly and coolly, and listen to what Yoketron had taught him, otherwise…

His optics found the Great Sword, and he suddenly realized what he needed. "Lockdown! The Great Sword!"

A smirk crossed the bounty hunter's face as he picked up the sword and tossed it. "One step ahead of you!"

The blade landed within reach of Drift's right hand, prompting him to drop his smaller blades and take hold of it. As its energies reactivated again with the touch of a Cybertronian, Clench looked down and scoffed. "You think that'll help? Come on!"

Taking the sword in both hands and angling it, the former Decepticon smiled. "Like you said, Clench! A mech's gotta know his limitations!" He then stabbed the blade forward and up, cutting right through the shield and penetrating his former commander's arm, a cry of pain rewarding him as the electrical energies in the sword tore through the Decepticon colossus' internals. Within a few nano-kliks, the energies drove Clench's internals to their breaking point, and a massive explosion engulfed both mechs, the three onlookers turning away as it hit.

The blast quickly subsided, Clench stumbling back with scorch marks present on most of his frame, his left arm practically destroyed below the elbow, bits and pieces of his shield and the still-intact Great Sword littering the ground around him. Drift, meanwhile, was similarly scorched, but still in one piece, slowly regaining his footing with swords in hand. "By the way? Deadlock's dead. If he wasn't, you would be. You've just gotten a taste of what Drift can do."

The massive Decepticon swayed on his feet, shaken and far more damaged by what had happened than he appeared. "Slagging…little…glitch…" His optics finally flickered off, and he collapsed, stasis lock taking hold of him.

Similarly exhausted, Drift dropped to his knees, his allies gathering to help him. The battle was hard-fought, but nonetheless, it had been won.

---

There was one part of being a member of the Autobot Security Forces that Checkpoint didn't like; the paperwork. Granted, by comparison to the rest, it was easiest and posed the least risk to anyone on the force, but it was nonetheless tedious, and it was easily the last thing that he wanted to do. Still, it had to be done, and he at least had the pleasure of recording some good news for a change. Two mega-cycles ago, they'd apprehended six Decepticons loyal to Megatron, effectively taking out an entire cell. Now, they'd added another four to that tally, not including the mech formerly known as Deadlock. All in all, the world was a better place now.

A small knock at his desk, and he looked up to find Hot Zone standing over him. "Nice to see you're keeping up with the paperwork. I hear you did some good things while I was in repair bay."

"Only what you'd have done in my place." The SWAT truck leaned back from his desk and asked, "Something on your processor?"

The older mech flexed his joints, still feeling some pain from his injuries. "I hate to say it, Checkpoint, but I'm starting to feel old. And as much as I enjoy this work, I'm starting to think I need to leave being the mech in charge to someone else who won't get into the same scrapes that I do."

Checkpoint looked at his superior with clear shock. "You're kidding. Hot Zone, you've got a lot of experience, fine, but you're hardly getting old. Besides, I don't see me inspiring the troops like you have."

"Better a commander who won't take crazy risks this high up in the chain than a dead inspiration, is it? Besides, something tells me I'll find a way to keep busy, and it's long past time I stepped aside and let another mech take the lead. Who better than you?"

A few odd ideas went through his mind, ways to try and encourage his superior to stay, but all of them were quickly discarded. Hot Zone wasn't one to be discouraged. "Have you talked with Optimus about this yet?"

"He's wishing he could do the same, but he doesn't object to it."

"Atlas will."

"Atlas complains about anything and everything. He's far too stubborn for his own good. It'll be a miracle if one of us doesn't end up fragging him, a bigger one if he actually has anyone willingly attend his memorial. We'd have to go, obviously, but…"

"But we won't be enjoying it." Checkpoint rose to his feet and extended his hand. "You're certainly going out on a high note. Thank you, Hot Zone. If I'm even half the mech you were in this position, I still wouldn't be enough."

Hot Zone accepted the hand with a laugh. "That's just you being nice. You'll be fine, and you're coming in on a high note. Just don't thank me yet." He tipped his head towards a monitor, messages speaking of a raging fire and a trainee having gone missing. "Something tells me you're about to have a world of trouble."

A sad laugh, and Checkpoint shook his head. "It never gets easier."

---

He knew this moment would come. He'd accepted it once he found himself in the repair bay at Iacon, and had no delusions that he could avoid it, or desire to do so. Still, facing this moment, his arms bound by stasis cuffs, the beam of light shining down from above like divine judgment and the nearly invisible expressions of the tribunal, was not an easy thing. But what good was redemption if it was handed out to anyone?

"Drift. Before joining Megatron and taking the name Deadlock, you were responsible for the deaths of three officers of the Autobot Security Forces. During your time in Megatron's services, you took part in numerous attacks on positions across Cybertron. You are charged with conspiracy, willful destruction of property, and murder. How do you plead?"

The mech's answer was immediate. "Guilty."

The light dimmed, and Drift's optics quickly adjusted, allowing him to see the tribunal in greater detail. "You present us with a small quandary. You did not start as a Decepticon, and only took on the insignia after joining Megatron's forces. Had you started as a regular Decepticon, instead of being a neutral mech, you would have been eligible for amnesty under the guidelines established by Lord Straxus. Nonetheless, we have received testimony from several individuals high in the Autobot chain of command, as far up as Optimus Prime himself, speaking in your favor. This tribunal now asks you if you feel you deserve a mitigated sentence."

"I don't. Many of the deaths I caused were the result of blind aggression or youthful stupidity, exaggerated by my own limited world view. I'm not that mech anymore, but that doesn't mean that my actions should be ignored. Whatever sentence I'm given, I will serve to completion, for the sake of both justice and my own spark."

Some small murmurs formed among the tribunal's members, their head finally speaking. "Very well. You shall be judged for your actions, Drift. As stated, you have killed three officers from the Autobot Security Forces, but your recent actions have saved three more, all of whom have testified on your behalf. You fought many battles against Autobots and Decepticons, and but most recently have helped in the locating and capture of several of your former associates. No actions that are directly attributed to you have been linked to the deaths of civilians, and you have not committed any clear war crimes. Your better deeds do not absolve you of your crimes, but they do incline us towards a lighter sentence; you can do far more good to Cybertron and its people among them than you can within a stasis cell." A chime sounded. "Your sentence is twenty stellar cycles in community service. You will be placed in the observation of a parole officer, and will be expected to report in immediately with said officer at any time. You will be monitored for that period. Should you commit any further crimes, you will be given a new trial and confined, any further punishment added to your current sentence. Do you understand?"

Drift was genuinely surprised, but quickly regained himself. "I do."

"Very well. This tribunal is dismissed." What light there was on the tribunal faded out, a court officer approaching and deactivating both the forcefield surrounding Drift as well as his bonds. The officer gestured out the way the former prisoner had come, and the young mech did as instructed and left.

Immediately outside of the courtroom, Drift found himself greeted by several mechs, all of whom he knew. With an impressed chuckle, Lockdown noted, "You got off lucky, proto. Someone obviously wants you to have a second chance."

The younger mech shook his head. "Yoketron-sensei gave me my second chance. All this has done is give me a chance to make use of it. Anyway, why are you here? I'd have thought whatever bounty there was in bringing in my former teammates would leave you comfortable for the rest of your cycles."

The bounty hunter dismissively waved. "Partial credit on Mindwipe, Skystalker and Axor only went so far, just enough for me to get started on my own version of that wannabe's EMP cannon. I'm here for something else." With a loose grip on the hilt, Lockdown drew a Great Sword from his subspace pocket and handed it to his fellow disciple. "Wish I could say it was Sensei's sword, but some other mech inherited that one. You'll have to settle for the one you used on Clench. You definitely use it better than he ever could, though. You've obviously learned what Sensei was trying to teach you."

The former Decepticon took up the sword with both hands and admitted, "Among others. I'm going to need some way to carry this without having to hold it over my shoulder or something, though."

A chuckle. "I can point you towards some mechs who do bodywork easy enough." He turned and waved, making his way out. "Be seeing you, proto! Keep your grill clean, though; I don't want to be the one dragging your sorry aft back here!"

Drift doubted that he'd get the chance, and that the next time they'd meet, it was likely that they'd be on the same side, if not simply hanging out somewhere. That settled, he turned to the second of the two mechs. "I never considered you the quiet sort, or the patient one. I never got your name either."

A cheerful grin spread across the fire engine's face. "Well, you didn't have a reason to before now. Name's Pyro." He then held up the short swords that the former Decepticon had been given. "And I think these are yours now, Drift."

"Thank you." One hand carefully holding the Great Sword downward, the young mech took up the new blades one at a time and sheathed them at his hips. "Why so willing to forgive, though? Before all of this, I was just another Decepticon."

"You aren't one now. You aren't even a Decepticon anymore. Mechs change, and if a mech wants to change for the better, then I say, let them. Besides, this isn't the first time something like that's happened." At the former Decepticon's curious look, the Autobot explained, "Ways ago, there was an Autobot named Spark. Early on, he wasn't interested in fighting or combat, but one cycle, he saw something that inspired him to fight, an act so brave and noble that he wanted to be talked about for that same thing. Modified himself a lot after that, even changed his name to evoke the mech that saved his life. Eventually, though, he realized that while he enjoyed what he was doing, helping the helpless and all that, he wasn't motivated by what the mech who inspired him in the first place was. He wanted glory, but what good is glory if people didn't actually like you?"

An optic ridge arched on Drift's face. "Plus you were in no rush to die."

A nod. "That, and I figured it was better to make my own fame than piggy-back off someone else's. Besides, it's no fun being something you're not." He leaned in close and whispered, "Between you and me, though, I think Pyro is the better name. Spark just doesn't have the same ring to it. Of course, there are worse; Dipstick, Erector, Borehole…"

"And that middle one could kick your aft from here to the outer edge and back." An unfamiliar mech approached, his armor colored grey, gold, black and varying shades of green, the darkest on his chest, arms and head crest. With a cavalier grin and confident swagger, he approached Pyro and suggested, "Now, you mind giving me a little time with my parolee? I've got better things to do today than stand around and hear you prattle."

The fire engine whispered a wish of good luck before he departed, leaving Drift alone with his parole officer. "You look familiar somehow."

"I should. I've got a bust in the dojo. Sensei taught me everything I know about using a sword; I figure there's no better mech qualified to finish what he started with you." The green mech offered a hand. "Name's Springer."

Drift accepted the hand. He wasn't sure if he deserved all of this, given what he'd done, but he knew full well that being dead wouldn't help anything, especially him. He'd have never foreseen him doing it with the Autobots, but he had his second chance now, and he was going to make the most of it.

The End