"Woah," Bumblebee yelled, looking at the place. "These are all stores?" he asked.
"Mostly," Counterpunch said. "There's a storage room on the first floor, a groundbridge room on the third, and a restaurant on the fourth."
"Well then, how should we explore the area?" Mirage asked. "This is a rather large area."
"Well, why don't we just explored what we want?" Beachcomber recommended. "I'm sure there's something for everyone here."
"Well, if that's the case, there's a directory," Blurr pointed out in front of them. "Best get a look at the stores around here."
Hoist entered the tool store on the second floor. From what he could tell, the place was a very well-stock place. Blowtorches, wrenches, wire cutters, etc…. Everything someone like him needed. He noticed that all of them were of very high quality coming from the most expensive brands available. The price of them were all affordable in monocoins value, but he had to go scavenge for more of them.
"Hmm, how interesting," came a familiar haughty voice behind him. Hoist turned around to gaze upon Mirage looking at some of the tools in the area.
"You have an interest in them?" Hoist asked.
"Yes, I do," Mirage told him, turning to look at him. "I know, someone like me being interested in something as menial as this, but I've always been interested in the mechanics of buildings and repairs."
"Hmm, you don't seem like the type," Hoist said as he turned back to his tools.
"Yeah, well, I like to tinker by myself. I've always been a bit of a loner so I needed some hobbies to entertain me and this works," Mirage told him, walking up beside him. "Tell me, you and Soundwave managed to make the groundbridge capable of transporting anywhere in the school Monobear allows us to enter. Do you think you can finished the process and get us out of here?" Mirage asked him.
"To be honest? I don't know. Groundbridges were more of Soundwave's things. I can adjust it however I like, but it requires knowing specific algorithms to break through whatever codes he has. Only someone like Soundwave could break through whatever keeps us here," Hoist told him.
"But alas, Soundwave decided to get himself killed instead of getting us a way out of here," Mirage bemoaned. "Couldn't keep his emotions in line."
"Look, we'll find another way out of here," Hoist told him. "Even the best fortress has a way in."
"Yes, but what do we do when we're trap in it and need a way out?"
"Oh, trinitrotoluene. I can do some wonderful stuff with this," Mixmaster muttered, picking it up and observing it.
"Trinitrotoluene? What in the holy frag grenade is that?" Smokescreen asked.
"It's TNT," Perceptor told him.
"You use it as an explosive by itself or add it to others," Beachcomber told him.
"Oh," Smokescreen muttered. "I've worked with explosives before, but never cared for what they were called." He decided to pair up with the local scientists and decided that by the way they were going over the stuff there, he probably should've went with another group. Too nerdy.
"Nitroglycerine, Acetone Peroxide, Nitrocellulose… yes, very good," Mixmaster gleefully chuckled.
"Uh…" Smokescreen moaned.
"More explosives," Beachcomber answered.
"Oh," Smokescreen muttered.
"It's a whole cabinet full of explosives. I want it so much," Mixmaster said.
"How much does it cost?" Perceptor asked the monochromatic robot.
"1,000 monocoins," it answered.
"For all of them?"
"Each."
"What?!" Mixmaster yelled, glaring at it.
"Those are the prices I have been uploaded with and I must say, your despair over the price is glorious!" the VI cashier told them.
"I swear, that bear mocks us at every corner," Mixmaster said with disgust as he put the explosives back on the counter.
"Hey, uh, are you sure you can't lower the price a little bit?" Smokescreen asked the VI, relaxing his arms on the counter.
"No, I can't, and it despairs me completely that I can't do that. It feels so wonderful," the cashier told him.
"Can't you do anything with your program to fix that?" Smokescreen asked.
"It despairs me to tell you that I can't," the cashier happily told him.
"Has anyone told you that you're weird," Smokescreen told him.
"Yes. Oh, it was so wonderful the way they despair," he told them. "And, I must say, you look like a fine bunch. Your despair will truly be wonderful."
"Wha…," Smokescreen muttered.
"Say all of that again," Perceptor ordered, closing in on the VI.
"Oh, well, every now and then, a new set of customers come in. They always look filled with dread. Usually, there's only twelve of you despairing about, so 26 is unprecedented. Honestly, the headmaster must be thinking more people is bigger neurosis mess," the cashier chuckled. "Oh, he is glorious."
"Can you tell us who he is?" Mixmaster asked.
"What, you haven't met him? Monobear is the headmaster of this fine coliseum he has prepare for you and he is despairingly awesome!" the cashier cheered.
"Alright, uh, what about his actual identity?" Smokescreen asked.
"Monobear is Monobear. To think otherwise is just completely wrong," he told them.
"We won't be getting anything out of him," Perceptor told them. "His coding must prevent him from giving us a straight answer about him."
"Oh, you guys are so cute. The way you search for answers that you won't obtain," the VI chuckled. "It may be old, but always speeds my pulses whenever I see you again."
"You must grow attach to your customers," Perceptor said.
"Oh, you know I do. I love calculating the odds of survival for anyone. It just brings out the despair in me when they die a horrible, gruesome death," the cashier told them.
"Guys, I'm getting out of here." Beachcomber told them. "This guy is freaking me out. If you need me, I'll be elsewhere," he said as he made his way out to somewhere else.
"I agree," Mixmaster agree. "I doubt we will be able to obtain anymore information from him, so we should go."
"Yeah, let's go," Smokescreen agreed, heading out of the room.
"Oh, one more thing," the cashier said, getting their attention again. "No matter what, every group ends with one person left standing. One person who visits my other selves. They gather the supplies from the stores here and prepare for their lives as they join them, singing the praise of Monobear as they exit." The VI begins to choke as they speak. "It makes your optics leak with sweet despair."
"Okay, odd…" Smokescreen muttered before realizing something weird. "Wait a minute, join 'them.' What exactly do they join?"
"Who do they join? HAHAHAHAHAHAH!" the VI laughs manically. "Oh, even you should know that," the VI chuckled.
"Who?" Smokescreen asked. The VI calmed himself down before answering in a pleasurable tone.
"They join the despair."
"500 monocoins!" Bludgeon yelled out to the cashier in front of him.
"Yes, exactly!" the VI answered. "Oh, your despair at that was wonderful."
"You…." Bludgeon growled out. "This is unacceptable!"
"Woah, hey, calm down Bludgeon," Drift said as he got in-between the two, trying to comfort him. "Tell me, how many of these monocoins have you got?" Drift asked.
"I only have 45," Bludgeon grumbled.
"And I have 39," Drift mumbled.
"Well, normally, I'm not supposed to help, but if it will help you murder someone, maybe. Tell me, have you checked your storage units?" the clerk asked them.
"The storage units?" Drift asked.
"Yes. Every storage units has a safe in it where you collect monocoins after every trial," it told them.
"He gives us his coins in exchange for surviving a trial?" Bludgeon asked him.
"Correct. It would be best if you would check those out and then come back to buy a sword," it recommended to them.
"Hmm, very well. I'll shall return with the money and then you give me the sword or face death!" Bludgeon threaten the clerk.
"A flair for the dramatic, do we," the clerk cheekily said. "My, I can tell why the headmaster chose you."
Bludgeon glared at the offending clerk before walking off, Drift following along.
"Ooo, what is this," Scavenger asked as he looked over a display case. They looked like small orbs of a variety of color.
"These are oil-balls," the clerk replied happily. "Oil frozen until it is solid and then dipped in various liquid vats to give it the color. It the most sweet thing to have on a despair inducing day."
"Yum…," Scavenger mumbled, drooling over the little sweets. "How much?" he asked.
"A monocoin each," the clerk replied.
"I'll take ten," Scavenger said as he fished ten monocoins out from subspace and handed it to the clerk. It accepted the money and bagged ten of the delicious balls of oil and gave it to him. Scavenger accepted it and walked out of the candy shop to the first floor, with a "Have a despairing day" as he left from the clerk. Scavenger walked until he reached the closest table and took a seat and looked into the bag to see the oil balls still there. Scavenger took a pretty yellow one out and popped it in his mouth, crushing it under the weight of his dentas. It was oil alright, as the thick, creamy taste of it entered his mouth. The oil flared his sensors and increase his energy. Oil knew how to keep a body going.
"The storage units should be over here," a voice said followed by the clanging of footsteps. Scavenger turned his head over to see Drift and Bludgeon descending the stairs and over in his direction.
"Hey, What up?" Scavenger asked nervously.
"Hitting up the storage units," Drift told him as he spot the bag Scavenger was holding. "What's that you got there?" he asked.
"Oil-balls," Scavenger told them as he went and popped another one in his mouth, this one a blue color. "Where are you guys going?" Scavenger asked.
"Storage area. We heard from the clerk that Monobear puts monocoins in the storage rooms after every trial," Drift told the Constructicon.
"Oh, can I come along?" Scavenger asked, standing up.
"Sure, I guess," Drift smiled and looked at frowning Bludgeon. "That alright with you?" he asked him.
"Hmpf, the weakling can come if he wants," Bludgeon apathetically brushed aside, heading over to the storage areas.
"That's a yes," Drift told him.
"Alright," Scavenger said as he followed them along to a door marked storage. The door opened automatically and the trio entered to see a plain room with two different doors, each marked with a logo. Autobot on the left, Decepticon on the right. Next to each door was a scanner and in-between the doors was a large, automated turret.
"Okay, so we just get our ID cards out and wave them in front of the scanner to get in out zones, correct?" he asked the group.
"I think so," Scavenger agreed. "I wondered what happens if you used the wrong one."
"More than likely, the turret up there will end your life," Bludgeon told him.
"Okay, so we'll split up and take our sides," Drift told the group as he swipe his card over the device for the Autobots.
"Anyone else?" the automated voice said that Drift now realized sounded suspiciously close to the clerk.
"Uh… no?" Drift said unsurely if that was what he was supposed to do.
"Welcome Drift." The door opened and he entered his area, leaving the other two behind.
"So, I guess we should do the same," Scavenger said as he showed is card to the scanner.
"Anyone else?" Bludgeon showed his to the scanner. "Anyone else?"
"No," Bludgeon rumbled.
"Welcome Scavenger and Bludgeon," the scanner greeted as the door opened for them. They were greeted to a good size hallway with eight shudders on each side and bathe in a purple light. Inscribed on each shudder was a name of a Decepticon in the school and next to each shudder was a scanner. However, four of them were taped off with a red X. Bludgeon's was up front while Scavenger's was near the back.
"This place doesn't look too bad," Scavenger said as he headed over to the back. Bludgeon ignored him and showed his ID to the scanner. The scanner's red light turned green and the shudder opened up to reveal a empty room with a safe embedded in the wall.. Bludgeon went over and opened the safe, showing two small boxes. He opened each of them to find them full of monocoins, although how much, he couldn't tell. He grabbed them, closed the safe and walked out to the hallway, the shudder closing on the way out. He looked to see Scavenger returning from his as well, carrying the boxes and his bag in his hand.
"Wow! I wonder how many of those oil balls I can buy," Scavenger cheered in excitement as he reached his position.
"Enough to feed everyone, more than likely," Bludgeon muttered as he opened the door out for them. The two exited the room to see Drift was already out and waiting for them with the boxes of Monocoins in hand.
"Hey, I see you got boxes as well," Drift remarked.
"Yes, although I don't know if this will be enough to buy us swords," Bludgeon remarked.
"You guys are buying swords?" Scavenger asked nervously, taking a step back.
"Relax. We're just using them for self-defense," Drift told him.
"Uh, okay," Scavenger said, although he didn't get any closer to them.
"We should head back up to the store and see if this is enough," Bludgeon told Drift heading out of the storage room.
"Alright," Drift said as he followed along. Before he left, he said one last thing to Scavenger. "You should come too and buy yourself a knife of some sort," Drift recommended.
"Uh, that's okay, I'll be fine," Scavenger brushed him off, waiting for him to go.
"If you say so," Drift agreed, heading off.
"Well, they have quite of bit of upgrades here," Ratchet noted as he investigated an upgrades shop. "Could be very useful."
"For what?" Knock Out beside him. "For taking or saving a life?"
"Saving, of course," Ratchet chastised him without hesitation. "I never take a life under my care."
"Ah, yes, oh magnanimous medic of the Autobot. Always doing his best to make sure people survive his surgeries."
"And when the person under your care hasn't ticked you off, you do a good job yourself," Ratchet noted.
"You realize I was mocking you, right?" Knock Out asked.
"Yes, although, do you really think it's a good idea to mock someone who would be willing to murder you to get out of this place?" Ratchet questioned him, turning over to look at him. Knock Out glared at the medic before turning his head away.
"Well, I know you wouldn't murder anybody here. I can't imagine you walking up to Prime and telling him that you killed everybody here to get out," Knock Out said, looking at the inventory. "After all, you, Prime's self-described 'old friend,' letting everyone here get executed for a murder you committed is very hard to imagine. I can't imagine the face Prime would have if you actually did that."
"And I'm positive Prime would hunt you down and ripped you apart if you did the same," Ratchet remarked with an odd grin. "Now I can imagine his face when doing that."
"Fair point," Knock Out agreed. "So, truce? No killing for fear of the great Prime's reaction?"
"Truce."
"Oh, this place is nice," Blurr remarked as he was served a glass of engex from the bartender. "It almost makes me forget that we're trapped in a school full of maybe murderers by a psychotic bear."
"Did you ever imagine yourself saying that sentence," Hound questioned, drinking some engex as well.
"Not in a lifetime," Blurr chuckled, downing some of the engex.
"How many are we allow to have?" Hound asked the monochromatic bartender.
"All drinks are on the house, courtesy of Monobear," the bartender replied happily.
"Really?" Blurr asked.
"Yes. After all, the more you drink, the more likely someone will take advantage of it and kill you," they replied.
"Of course there was a catch," Blurr muttered.
"Hey, relax. After all the drama of the last trial, I doubt anyone will be willing to kill again," Hound told him. "I mean, Soundwave got ripped in half and Brawl got crushed. Do you think anybody would be willing to risk that?"
"It all depends on the motives," Blurr told him. "I'm sure Soundwave wouldn't kill if it wasn't for the motive and Vortex wouldn't have got himself killed if it wasn't for the device Monobear placed in our rooms."
"Okay, that's a fair point. But, seriously, what else can we do that would get people willing to kill each other," Hound asked him.
"Well, according to Monobit- excuse me, Monobear, it had something to do with our past. What could that have to do with us?" Blurr asked.
"What if it has something to do with our past action? Let's be honest, have we all been 100% good?" Hound him. "I mean, I guess I've done a couple of questionable things, but nothing too bad."
"Hmpf, I act a bit harsh, but I'm sure I don't have a secret worth killing over," Blurr told them.
"Exactly, so what do we have to worry about?" Hound told him.
"I bet you a thousand shanixes that some Decepticons have got a secret worth killing for," Blurr told them.
"I don't know about that. I mean, we researched their war crimes very well. To be honest, I think they would have the least dangerous secrets among us," Hound told them.
"What makes you say that?" Blurr asked.
"Well, we're the good guys, right? I mean, if word gets out that some of us have done some… questionable things, how do you think public perception of the Autobots would be?" he asked
"Hound, we're the only ones here. I doubt we can't revealed our secrets to each other," he told him.
"Much easier to say that than to actually do that," Hound noted, drinking some more engex.
"Okay, fair point," Blurr grumbled. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
"What are you doing?" Counterpunch asked Nightbeat, who was inspecting a door.
""Wondering why this won't open," Nightbeat told him.
"It's probably a maintenance door. Probably some hallways in there," he told him.
"More than likely, but a way out could be gain from it," he told him.
"Do you really think that?"
Nightbeat released a small groan before answering: "Not really. I doubt it would be that easy."
"Which begs the question of why you're struggling," Counterpunch asked him.
"Because, it never hurts to look," Nightbeat told him. "I imagine if we want to escape, we will have to be very inventive."
"More than likely. Judging by the way he planned everything, we have to think a bit more outside-the-box to escape," Counterpunch agreed.
"We'll have to be careful," Nightbeat told him. "Monobear is watching everything we do, including this very conversation," he warned, glaring at a nearby camera.
"Those are very annoying," Counterpunch remarked.
"Well, have you found any information about yourself?" Nightbeat asked, changing the topic.
"No, but I plan on using the archives today to look for any files here," Counterpunch told him.
"That's a good idea. You're bound to find something in there," Nightbeat agreed.
"You're good at reading people, correct?" he asked.
"Yes."
"What does my look say about me?" he asked. Nightbeat glanced at him before replying.
"Well, you're attitude is cynical, although not to the degree of Dead End. Your prior conversations indicate you are fiercely loyal to the Decepticon cause and to Megatron while your accent indicates you are from… Iacon?"
"I am from Kaon," Counterpunch corrected.
"Strange. Anyway, your dents in the knuckles indicate that you like to fight while the track marks on your arm and the way your optics are brighter than usual indicates that you inject yourself with neuro-boosters. I'm guessing blackouts?" he asked him.
"Correct," Counterpunch said, surprised.
"Right, well, judging by your visible scars and buffer marks, you've been shot seven times, stab five times, and at one point, lost an arm."
"That is… also true," Counterpunch approved. "I'm impressed."
"It's nothing," Nightbeat muttered as he thought things through. "I swear, your accent is from Iacon," Nightbeat said to himself.
"You're wrong, although only in that regard. Get over it," Counterpunch told him.
"I guess I have no choice."
"A datapad on mnemosurgery," Chromedome muttered to himself. "I guess this is suitable," Chromedome said to himself.
"I recommend getting the some on poetry," came the melancholic voice of Dead End behind him.
"Never interested me much," he told him, heading over to the cashier. Dead End followed along, his datapad on poetry on hand. The arrived to find Rewind and Wildrider waiting for them and talking to each other.
"Waiting for Deady to get some poetry is boring," Wildrider complained.
"Same," Rewind complained. "Videos are better."
"Wow. It's like we're on the same wavelength," Wildrider cheered.
"I wouldn't go that far," Rewind shrugged him off as he turned to look at them. "Are we ready to go?" Rewind asked them.
"Just got to check out," Chromedome told him.
"Alright," Rewind said, looking back at Wildrider. "Hey, Wildrider?" Rewind asked in a whisper.
"Yeah?" Wildrider asked in a equal tone.
"Thanks for helping out the other day between me and Chromedome," Rewind told him.
"Hey, no problem," Wildrider told him.
Unknown to those two, the other two could hear them.
"It was nice of him to help," Chromedome told him.
"That's the magic of Wildrider. One day, he might save the life of someone. The next day, he'll brutally dismember them," Dead End told him.
"You're joking… right?" Chromedome asked.
"He's labeled the Ultimate Manic for a reason," Dead End told him.
"…I'll limit their interaction."
"Good idea," he agreed as the two checked out and headed back to the duo.
"Where's some antidepressants?" Onslaught questioned the clerk in the medicine store.
"They should be in the third aisle," the clerk happily told him. "Is someone feeling like suicide?" Onslaught ignored him and went to the aisle to retrieve it, running into someone else.
"Oh, hey dude," Beachcomber greeted as he looked through the aisle.
"Oh, hello Beachcomber," Onslaught greeted as he looked through the aisle.
"What are you looking for?" Beachcomber asked.
"Antidepressants for Swindle," he answered.
"Oh," Beachcomber muttered shyly. That was a sore wound he didn't want to tread on.
"What are you here for?" he asked him.
"Same," Beachcomber answered.
"You need antidepressants?" Onslaught asked.
"Yeah…" Beachcomber answered nervously.
"What for?" Onslaught asked.
"PTSD," he answered.
"What? How did you get that?" Onslaught asked, turning to look at him.
"I would say asked Shockwave, but he's dead, thank Primus," Beachcomber told him.
"Oh," Onslaught murmured. Shockwave was pretty… brutal.
"I swear, when we won and all he got was a slap on the wrist and got a high-position with the reconstruction effort, I was pissed," Beachcomber told him. "He ruined my life."
"Ruined?" Onslaught.
"Every five days, I'm supposed to go to a psychiatrist to make sure I'm okay and if I need a refill on drugs," Beachcomber told him. "I was on suicide watch for a long time after that. You know how long's it's been since I've been off the list?" he asked him. Onslaught glanced at the small bot, not sure of what to say.
"Uh, how long?" he asked.
"It's been five years," he told him. "I was just starting to get my life back on track and then this happens," he ranted. "Am I Primus's punching bag. Did I do anything to offend him?"
"I have no idea," Onslaught murmured.
"Of course you don't," Beachcomber said as he stopped in front of some medicine. "Found it," he told him as he grabbed several phials.
"Good," Onslaught murmured as he went over. "Do you need all of those?"
"Yes. Trust me, I do," Beachcomber told him as he walked past him and towards the counter. Onslaught glanced at him as he went before grabbing a phial and going over to the counter with Beachcomber.
"That will be seventy monocoins," the cashier told him.
"Alright, here," Beachcomber told him as he phished around in subspace and brought the coins out.
"Thank you and have a despairing day," the cashier said. Beachcomber nodded and started picking the phials up.
"Hey, Beachcomber," Onslaught tried to get his attention.
"What?" he asked.
"If you need help, come talk to me," Onslaught asked him. Beachcomber glanced at him before muttering:
"I'm fine. I don't help. Not anymore," Beachcomber told him before walking off.
"You don't have to watch over me," Swindle told Blast Off as he sat in a chair with his hands in his face.
"Actually, I do," Blast Off said, towering over him. "If I keep my optics off you, I run the risk of you getting overload and putting yourself in danger," he told him.
"Look, I get it, but can you lay off me?" he asked him.
"Swindle, do you want me to go over what happen last night to you again?" Blast Off threaten.
"Nah, I'm good," Swindle muttered.
"Hmphf," Blast Off let out a huff. "You are a moron."
"What was that?" Swindle asked, glaring at him.
"Why repeat what you heard?" he asked him.
"Okay, you arrogant little-"
"Oh, you want a repeat of Vortex and Brawl?" Blast Off asked.
"Hnn…" Swindle muttered as he took a seat and cupped his face in his hands. "Sorry," he said. "The stress is getting to me."
"It's getting to everyone," the sniper told him. "Some are just dealing with it better than others."
"Obviously, I'm probably one of the worst," Swindle told him.
"Yes, you are," Blast Off agreed, walking around the table. "Erratic, paranoid, attempting to murder Vortex. Yes, I'll say you are the very worst one here," Blast Off agreed.
"Is that supposed to help me?" the merchant asked, glaring at him.
"No," Blast Off told him.
"Oh," Swindle muttered. "You know, insults are probably not the best way to handle someone who's grieving," he told him.
"You forget, I'm grieving as well," Blast Off reminded him. "I think that puts us on even ground."
"Oh, yeah," he murmured. "You don't look it."
"I internalized my grief very well, thank you," Blast Off informed him. "I don't know why you don't."
"I don't know," Swindle confessed. "I'm guess that I- well, I feel guilty."
"Which makes sense, since this is all your fault," Blast Off told him.
"I know," Swindle told him. "Quit reminding me."
"Now why should I?" Blast Off asked him.
"Because I'm already feeling bad enough as it is and I don't need you to add to it," Swindle told him.
"Oh, is that all?" Blast Off asked him. "You feel bad. So I should forget that this is all your fault," Blast Off asked him.
"Do, it- quit doing that!" Swindle yelled at him.
"Hmpf." Blast Off glanced above Swindle. "Here comes Onslaught with the anti-depressant. Take it. You'll feel better," Blast Off ordered, his tone softening.
"Yeah, sure," Swindle agreed, laying back in his chair, lifeless.
"Swindle, listen to me," Blast Off told him, getting next to him, "my feelings for you may be ambivalent, but we're going to get out of here alive, you understand that?" Swindle silently gaze at Blast Off before giving a single shaking of his head. "Alright. Sorry for giving you the guilt trip," Blast Off told him.
"Nah, its fine," Swindle muttered, turning his head away. Blast Off glared at the merchant, a feeling of anger and worry feeling him before pushing it back down. Worrying about anyone besides yourself was a good way of getting yourself killed.
"You guys interested in music?" Jazz asked the three people in the room.
"I'm trying to figure out what music Laserbeak likes," Skywarp told the group. "We both need something we both enjoy."
"I don't know, maybe? Never really gave it much thought. I just wanted to join a group," Bumblebee told him.
"I just didn't want to be alone," Nautilator told the group.
"Got a problem making friends?" Jazz asked.
"You can say that," Nautilator told him. "Not even my own gestalt wants to be friends with me, although I'm pretty thankful for that. Bunch of psychopaths they are."
"Oh, you don't have to remind me. Had to fight you guys a couple of times," Jazz told him. "You ever fight them, Bee?" "Jazz asked him.
"I don't know, maybe? My memory banks are a bit cluttered," Bumblebee told him.
"I remember you guys, I think. Well, I remember the reports file against you from COs who all describe you as a waste of space in the army," Skywarp told him.
"Seriously? How many did I have?" Nautilator asked.
"Oh, I lost count at five," Skywarp told him.
"Five? Do you suck at math that bad," Bumblebee asked, amused.
"Hey, I didn't exactly have much of an education like you fraggers," Skywarp complained. "Only recently, TC has been teaching me about stuff."
"And they asked you to teach people? Someone who can barely count?" Bumblebee asked.
"Hey, I've been learning! I can now get to forty," Skywarp told him. "Besides, I'm a master of ambushes," Skywarp bragged.
"Yeah, that's befitting of a coward like you," Bumblebee told him.
"Coward?" Skywarp asked, insulted.
"Hey, chill out, everyone. No mood killing here, is this understood?" Jazz asked them. The prankster and the scout glared at each other before Bumblebee answered.
"Fine," Bumblebee muttered.
"Fine, even though he was the aggressor," Skywarp agreed. "TC taught me that word," he grinned.
"Oh, for the love of," Bumblebee muttered.
"Guys!" Jazz yelled at them.
"Why am I always a fourth wheel?" Nautilator complained to himself.
Afterwards, the 26 teachers met up at the tables on the first floor. Most were satisfy, although there were a couple disappointed, none more than Bludgeon, who cursed the high price of the sword, making him unable to buy one. The group were discussing what to do.
"I say we make another trip to the archives," Jazz told them.
"Ugh, that place," Scavenger complained. "Last time I was there, I was trapped for the whole day."
"Do you honestly think we'll find anything this time?" Knock Out asked him.
"Honestly, probably not. We've been through so far, so I recommend this so that we can search for whatever we want," he told them.
"So… free time?" Bumblebee asked. "We can just search whatever we want?"
"Correct," Jazz told them. "Search for whatever your sparks desire." Everyone gave small nods of agreement. "Okay then, let's head to lunch."