Chapter II: Sweet Oblivion
Blitzwing pushed the doors open, and strolled on in, breathing in the intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed energon.
Good to be back, he thought to himself. I could use a drink.
The Spark Smelter was a favourite energon pub throughout Polyhex, considered by many Decepticons to have the finest atmosphere for relaxation in the sector. The music was nice and loud, the drinks were steaming hot, and the sense of fellowship and camaraderie was such that could be found at few other places.
He kicked aside an empty energon mini-cube, and walked up to the bar. The seats were all occupied, but that didn't mean very much. He chose a nice spot close to the fount, knocked the unconscious 'con off of his stool, and took a seat, stretching as he did so. Astrotrain was a nice 'bot and all, but boy, it sure felt cramped in there.
He barely noticed as the unconscious Decepticon he'd knocked to the ground was looted of weaponry and credit chips by a couple of scrounging empties. His attention was instead focused on a brawl taking place at the other end of the pub. Someone pulled a pistol, and a shot rang out. Nothing out of the ordinary here.
Yeah, this was a great place.
"Hello, Blitzwing. Back so soon?"
He turned and smiled. Cleaning the bar was Topper, the pub's waiter. A small guy with beady little optics, and gifted with four arms (the better to serve customers all the faster), he had been working there for longer than anyone could remember, and was probably at any given time the only safe bot in the place. No one wanted to see him deactivated; they'd miss his drinks too much. There was something in the energon he poured that had a kick to it. Some said it was oil, others said it was lubricant, and all manner of other disturbing liquids. But no one particularly cared.
"Yeah, the attack on Autobot city came and went pretty fast. Pour me one, would ya?"
A couple of the mechanoids who were sitting nearby turned their heads to listen. Any news of the war was interesting news.
"Paying in credits?"
"Nah, put it on my tab."
"Sorry, can't do that. Your credit's no good here anymore."
"What?!"
"You already owe us nine-fifty-three…"
"Is that all? Well, sure..."
"…point twelve. Nine-fifty-three point twelve."
A couple of the mechanoids winced.
"Are you serious? Aw, slaggin…alright, fine, here." He fished a wad of chips from his back compartment, and paid up.
"Sorry, Blitz, but rules are rules. Here you go." Topper handed him a cube, grand size, the way he liked it.
"Ahh, I had it comin' to me anyway. So, -SLURP- where was I again?"
"The attack on Autobot city, you said it went by quick. Finally took care of them, didn't you?"
"Oh, yeah. Nah, we got trounced."
There was a sharp gasp from those around him. This was news. The Decepticons hadn't lost a major battle, at least not on Cybertron, since the Earthlings' date of early 2003. That they still knew the meaning of defeat, regardless of whether it was off-world or not, was somewhat alarming.
"That's awful to hear…I'm so sorry."
"Aah, not your fault. You're not the one who beat us."
"So…how'd it happen? What went wrong?"
"Prime."
The mechanoids made grumbled noises of understanding.
"Well, he IS a factor to take into account. He's as good as they come, even if he's on the other side."
"No question about it. His presence could've made or broken a battle."
"Made or…I don't understand…you're not saying he's…"
"Whoa, whoa, hold your servo-horses there. I didn't say he was. I didn't see the fight. But – SLURP- from what I hear, Megatron shot him, up close and personal-like, maybe four, five times."
Conversation in the pub dimmed down to a dull roar. Evidently, more people had been listening in than expected.
"But if he is alive, he might not make it."
Two of the mechanoids clinked glasses together and toasted. Someone called for drinks all around.
Topper smiled. "Well, score one big one for us, hmm? Three point twenty," he said as he accepted payment from another customer. With two of his free arms, he began to clean an empty cube. "Even if we lost the war, we won a battle."
"I wouldn't say so."
"How do you figure?"
"Megatron's dead."
Absolute silence reigned in the bar, now.
Topper dropped his cube. "W…what…? Oh, no…"
"Yep. Prime knocked him off a cliff, and broke him pretty bad. But he was alive. –SLURP- We retreated, and en route back, Astrotrain told us he couldn't make it, he was carrying too many. We had to ditch some weight.
He reflected bitterly for a moment as he sipped his cube. In retrospect, I guess it was stupid for Megs to have us assault an outbound craft on personal flight-power, and not think of the return trip…
"Anyway, we voted that whoever was too weak from the fight should be tossed out. We lost Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the insecticons. And then he tossed out Megs."
The bar was absolutely quiet now. And then the chaos began again, in full throttle. Dozens of voices babbling, shouting, crying, screaming, all at once. Someone yelled that it was the end of the Decepticon empire.
Topper was all but in shock. "So…who will lead, now?"
"Well, at first we all assumed it would be Shockwave. But Starscream claims that he outranks him. We thought he was full of slag all these years, but if he actually is second-in-command…
"Oh, no…"
"Yeah. My fingers are crossed, too. Although he's learned a lot from Megatron, and he's not exactly stupid, he's still a no-good coward, and he's got more than a couple of screws loose up where it counts."
"I guess we'll just have to hold our breath. There'll be an announcement sooner or later."
Blitzwing was about to take another sip of his cube when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned, and stared into a face out of a security chief's nightmare.
"Hold, Blitzwing. Is what you say, true?"
It was Chop-Shop.
Inwardly, Blitzwing shuddered with revulsion. He'd never liked any of the insecticons, but on earth, he'd
gotten somewhat used to working alongside Bombshell, Kickback and Shrapnel. But the other four were far worse, from the little he'd seen and heard of them. Frankly, they made his endoskeleton vibrate with disgust. This one was a master thief, or so the rumours went. He made a mental note of how many credit chips he had left in his back compartment, and answered.
"About what? And get your stinkin' hand off me."
He did. "The insecticons, the three who went with you. They were all abandoned?"
"Yeah, shot off into the great black nowhere. SLURP…BURRRP."
If Chop-Shop was put off by Blitzwing's hideous lack of manners, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply replied with an echoing, raspy voice that made Topper shudder.
"I see..."
"Bah, what'sh it to ya? You guys can clone yourselves, can't ya? I've seen 'em, there's plenty more where they came from."
"You fool. You don't know anything about us."
And with that, Chop-Shop turned and left.
Blitzwing watched him leave, feeling immediately relieved. "What's his problem, anyway? Aaah, what do I care…" He got up with a considerable amount of difficulty, and shook his head. No doubt, Topper's special blend packed a punch to it.
"You'll be off, I suppose?"
"Yeah…I've got a feeling that tomorrow's going to be a heck of a day for the whole empire…probably be a bit of rioting once the word gets out that Megs is toast. Lotta noise, and while I like that okay, right now I'm just too drained to care. I just wanna get back to my quarters and catch some shut-down time. So, how much is that?"
"Five point sixteen."
He felt around in his compartment, couldn't find his chips, and it dawned on him with some horror that the contents of his credit pack were completely missing.
"Aw, SLAG!!!" He kicked over the stool upon which he had been sitting.
"Put it on my tab," he mumbled as he walked out, making another mental note to reconfigure Chop-Shop's face the next time he saw him.
At that moment, Chop-Shop was running at full speed down the streets of Lower Polyhex, in an agitated state of mind.
Brilliant. Just brilliant. This is not what I needed to hear. Venom and the others must be notified…
He leapt into the air and began to transform, shaking off mass and size as he did so, and finally his completed form of a stag beetle plunged earthward, and down a storm drain. He flew through the sewers, toward the insecticons' lair.