Blurr stared silently at the datapad in his hand. The fact that Monobear knew about that was enough of a shocker, but the other secret was what put it over the top. The fact that one of them were willingly working with Monobear was insane. It just had to be false.
"Oh, you look surprised," Monobear said, getting closed to him. "Well, let me make one thing absolutely clear: everything I put on these datapads is 100% factual. There are no lies in any of these datapads."
"But that makes no sense!" Blurr yelled at him. "Why would anyone do that?"
"Well, I could tell you, but that would be spoiling, so you just take it, leave, and despair over what you should do. That makes things more fun for me," Monobear ordered the bear.
"Why you little-"
"Anyway, I'm done here. You all got your motivation, so have fun. It's currently 10:30 P.M. Please remember that 100 hundred hours from now, your secrets will be revealed to the whole world, as well as anybody else I can manage. The more the merrier," the bear chuckled before disappearing, leaving everybody by themselves. Everybody stayed silent as they read their datapads again to make sure that it was true.
"Well," Jazz said, getting the lead, "my head is hurting from the high-grade I drank earlier and due to the fact that I'm tired. We should all go to bed and talk about this tomorrow."
"He's right," Onslaught agreed. "We should all go into our rooms and not do anything too hasty."
Everyone agreed, and everyone left at the same time to the second floor. Everyone went to there room, except Blurr, who went to Jazz. "Hey, can talk to you in private?" Blurr asked as Jazz slipped his electroID over the device and opened his door.
"Blurr, whatever you planning, stop. Whatever you're planning, it's not worth murder," Jazz told him.
"No, it's not that. It's about somebody else's secret," Blurr told him.
"What could makes the secret so bad that you have to talk to me about it," Jazz asked him. "I know Monobear said he gave you the darkest secret, but could it possibly affect us? The past is n the past," he told him as he began closing his door
"Because it's not about a past event, it's about what's happening right now," Blurr told him. Jazz paused and opened the door a bit wider to about a crack.
"Come again?" Jazz asked. Blurr glanced at the few people who haven't entered their room yet before leaning into the crack.
"Someone is a mole working for Monobear," Blurr murmured in hush tones. Almost immediately, Jazz swung the door open and pulled Blurr in and closed it shut.
"Who are the suspects?" Jazz asked harshly.
"Here," Blurr said, laying it on the table and covering his secret with his hand. Jazz went over and looked at it.
"Dammit," Jazz murmured. "I think I would've preferred it if you were actually trying to kill me."
"I just don't understand why any of us would work with that psychopath," Blurr said in disbelief. "I mean, we're all in agreement that he's a psychopath, so why would anybody want to work with him?"
"Let's go through the list one at a time," Jazz suggested. "Okay, Ratchet."
"Definitely wouldn't happen. I mean, come on, it's Ratchet. He's been an Autobot longer than most of us," Blurr argued.
"Agreed. From the list, I'd say that Smokescreen is probably the most suspicious," Jazz told him.
"I hate to say it, mostly because he's a good drinking buddy, but I agree with you on that," Blurr agreed. "He could've done it for a profit. Now Chromedome on the other hand, I can't see it being him. I mean, you've seen him and Rewind."
"True, and they're Conjunx Enduras. I don't think he would betray Rewind like this," Jazz agreed. "Nightbeat…"
"To be honest, I don't know much about him. I just know he's good at solving crimes," Blurr told him. "What do you think of him?"
"I don't know. I'd put him on the edge of being a suspect," Jazz told him.
"Sounds good to me," Blurr said.
"Mirage is an elitist, but I don't think he would do this, would he?" Jazz asked.
"I wouldn't trust a senator as far as I can throw them," Blurr told him. "Best put him in the middle with Nightbeat."
"Lastly, Perceptor. He's a scientist, so he may have some interest in conducting an experiment like this, but fatally and with us as the experiments? I don't think so," Jazz said.
"He's also one of the more loyal to the Autobots. I doubt he was put us in here with the Decepticons to slaughter each other. Now if it was just the Decepticons, I might see it," Blurr told him.
"Alright, so in order from least suspicious to most suspicious, it's Ratchet, Chromedome, Nightbeat, Perceptor, Mirage, and Smokescreen," Jazz concluded.
"Sounds good to me," Blurr.
"However, that doesn't mean we should count the least suspicious ones out. We don't know the motivations of the mole working for Monobear, so it could still be any of them. Until we find more information that can help us, we have to keep this fact hidden from them. The main question is should we tell anybody else?" Jazz asked.
"Well, if Nightbeat wasn't on the list, I'd say him, but since we can't, I think it's best to see who can keep their mouth shut and go from there," Blurr told him.
"Agreed. Any suggestions?" Jazz asked him.
"Well, I think Hoist can look into Perceptor for us. He's probably the most normal person here and doesn't talk much, along with the fact that if Perceptor needs anything fixed in his lab, Hoist does it for him," Blurr recommended.
"Okay, I think we can trust him enough for this," Jazz agreed. "You can look into Smokescreen for us, correct?"
"Sure," Blurr agreed.
"Alright, and I think I can look into Ratchet for anything suspicious," Jazz agreed. "Also, as weird as it might sound, I think we should recruit Counterpunch's help for this."
"That guy? Why him? He's a Decepticon," Blurr asked him.
"True, but he's the closest to Nightbeat from what I can tell, and his antisocial tendencies work well for us in that he won't tell anyone else," Jazz explained to him.
"Alright, that sounds good. Now, what about Mirage and Chromedome?" Blurr asked.
"I'm not quite sure. I'm thinking of getting Blast Off for that, but with what's been happening recently between him, Swindle, and Onslaught, I should probably find somebody else to get close to him. As for Chromedome, the only one he seems truly close with is Rewind, but they're Conjunx Enduras and Rewind would be bias in his investigation with him. We should probably asked around to see who knows the most about him that isn't Rewind," Jazz told him.
"Alright, sounds good," Blurr agreed, pulling the datapad behind his back and away from Jazz's optics. "Hopefully, if we keep everybody from murdering each other within the next 100 hours, we'll have out answer."
"That would be ideal, but you have to remember Blurr, everybody's secret is in the air, and who knows what secrets everybody else have. One of them might just have a secret worth killing somebody else for to hide it," Jazz told him. "The mole isn't the only person we have to watch out for."
"Yeah, good point," Blurr muttered. Jazz glared at him.
"You're not planning on murdering anyone to keep it a secret, right?" Jazz asked him.
"Uh? No, of course not," Blurr told him.
"What could you have done to get you on edge, man," Jazz asked him.
"What have you done?" Blurr turned it around on him. Jazz grew angry at that remarked, glaring at Blurr.
"I've done enough to make me lose some sleep at night, but for the greater good of everyone here, I'll let Monobear revealed it if it will keep everyone else safe," Jazz told him bluntly, walking ever so closely to him. "Now listen Blurr, whatever damage that secret will do to your public reputation, you'll suffer through it. All of our lives are on the line here and I expect you to do whatever it takes to save them all. This isn't just the Autobot way, it what you do in any situation. So stay strong, figure out if Smokescreen is a mole or not, and make sure nobody else murders anyone, got that?" Jazz ordered him.
Blurr stared silently at him, stunned by his speech, before answering quietly, "Yes."
"Good, now, go to your room, recharge, and we'll make a plan of attack tomorrow, okay," Jazz soften, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah, sure," Blurr agreed, walking towards the door and opening it. He turned back and said one more thing. "Thanks for that," Blurr thanked him.
"It's what I do," Jazz said, getting on his recharge slab and relaxing on it. "Good night, Blurr."
"Good night," Blurr parroted, closing the door.
Day 10
Hours Remaining: 91
Breakfast ended for the group and everyone left, with Jazz, Blurr, Counterpunch, and Hoist together in a group. Jazz and Blurr had asked the latter two to join them in Jazz's room. The two had wondered why they wanted them, but followed with little struggle. The four entered the room and took a seat together at the table.
"Alright, what do you want with me, Autoscum," Counterpunch asked the two.
"Same, minus the Autoscum part," Hoist agreed.
"Okay, look, this is a manner of great importance," Jazz told the two. "This room is soundproof to prevent any of the others listening in on us."
"That sounds… dire," Hoist murmured.
"More than you think. Look, we've got a breach," Jazz told them.
"Breach?" Counterpunch murmured.
"Someone among us works for Monobear," Blurr explained.
"What!" Counterpunch shouted angrily, slamming his fists on the table. "Who?"
"It's between six people. Ratchet, Smokescreen, Chromedome, Nightbeat, Mirage, and Perceptor," Jazz told them.
"So it's one of your kind that's betrayed us," Counterpunch questioned.
Jazz gave a small hurt sigh and answered: "Yes, one of them did, but that's not important. We need to figure out which of them did and I need your help."
"You do?" Counterpunch asked.
"Nightbeat is pretty friendly with you. We need you to get close to him and try to see if he's working for Monobear," Jazz told him.
"Hmm, fine," Counterpunch agreed.
"Hoist, I need you get close to Perceptor and pay attention to any suspicious things he does," Jazz told the repairer.
"I can do that," Hoist murmured reluctantly.
"Me and Blurr will take Ratchet and Smokescreen respectively," Jazz told the two.
"Now, what to do with Mirage and Chromedome?" Blurr wondered.
"That's a problem," Jazz said. "Rewind is too close to Chromedome to investigate for us and Blast Off is too busy dealing with the Brawl and Vortex fallout to help us out with Mirage."
"May I offer a suggestion?" Hoist asked.
"What?" Jazz asked
"Ask the two Stunticons for help," he told him.
"What? Why those two nutcases?" Blurr asked him.
"Because, Wildrider, while crazy, is closer to those two than the others and I've seen Dead End and Mirage talking with each other," Hoist asked him.
"Look, I don't want any loose cannons on the mission. This has to be a purely clandestine affair," Jazz told him.
"Look, if I had anybody who were more subtle, I would've told you, but they are the only ones who can get close to them. Take it or leave," Hoist told them.
"I like it. Good way to keep things unbiased," Counterpunch said, just a tad bit smugly with a slight grinned on his face.
"Okay, can we kick him to the curb?" Blurr asked Jazz.
"No, we already got him, we have to live with that," Jazz told him.
"Jazz," Hoist beckoned, "either you get them to help us or no one at all."
Jazz gave a groaned of disapproval, thinking things through. Wildrider was a total psychopath who has never heard of subtlety and Dead End was a fatalistic nihilist with little in terms of self-preservation. In terms of reliable allies, they were very low on the list, and yet, they were the only ones who could get close to them…
"Alright, fine. I'll track them down and tell them about the plan," Jazz agreed with Hoist. "I hope this doesn't backfire on us."
"I got a quick questioned," Counterpunch told them.
"What?" Blurr asked.
"When we figure out who the mole is, what do we do with them?" Counterpunch asked. "We can't kill them as that would just result in another person dead, but we can't just ignored them."
"We'll deal with that when the time comes," he told them, getting up from the table. "For now, let's get out of here before anybody suspects anything."
"Alright," he agreed, standing up, the rest following along.
"I'll get started in my investigation immediately. I wish the rest of you good luck," Hoist said, making his way to the door, open it, and turned back to them. "And Jazz, if my idea backfires, I'm sorry," he said, making his way out.
"I should go and see if our dear detective is doing anything," Counterpunch said, leaving the room as well.
"Well, that could've gone better," Blurr murmured.
"It could've been worse," Jazz countered. "Anyway, I have the extremely tough job of getting the two most mentally screwed-up people in here to engage in clandestine operations, which is the antithesis of what they're good at. Weep for me," Jazz snarked with a small smile on his face.
"Oh, trust me. I know I got it easy," Blurr said as the two headed out.
Hours Remaining: 90
"What's going on?" Hoist asked the two scientists in the lab.
"Cooking up some high-grade," Mixmaster told him.
"Both of you?" he asked.
"Yes. I sampled it and, as someone who has experimented with a variety of high-grades, it is divine," Perceptor told him.
"Why?" Hoist asked leaning in.
"Well, I figured that, if I don't make it out, someone should be able to brew it in my absence," Mixmaster told him.
"Are you that serious about it?" Hoist asked.
"Of course. As scientists, we drink and do so many things in the name of science that we need a extremely strong drink to get us buzzed," Mixmaster told him.
"You're kidding me, right?" Hoist asked.
"Get us in a drinking contest with everyone else and we'll throw them under the table," Perceptor told him with a smirk.
"You two are crazy," Hoist murmured.
"Hey, that's a stereotype," Mixmaster told him.
"All stereotypes emerge from a kernel of truth," he shot back.
"He has a point," Perceptor agreed with a slight smile. "Secretly, we're all a little mad."
"Well, thanks to our prison, I think we're all a little mad," Hoist murmured sadly.
"Yes, we are," Perceptor agreed, a small, sad tone in his voice. "This place has a way of getting to you, more than just being a syk addict or being an overachiever would get to you. This place gets to your every thought, making you wonder 'is he going to kill me?' It's a wretched feeling and I wouldn't wished it on anyone," Perceptor ended his monologue, leaving the three silent.
"Right, I think it's done," Mixmaster said, trying to get everyone back to a happier feeling. "Who wants the first shot?" he asked.
Hours Remaining: 88
"Why did you choose to bother me today, Jazz?" Dead End asked in the library, as he was reading a poem.
"A favor," he asked him.
"What?" he asked him.
"First, I want you to know that this is strictly between me, you, and three, maybe four, other individuals. This has to be kept on the down low," he told him, making a gestures with his hand to keep it quiet.
"What are you afraid of?" Dead End asked him.
"Well, you are a fatalist," Jazz told him.
"Fatalist are usually self-destructive," Dead End pointed out to him.
"Yeah, and I'm surprised you haven't killed yourself," Jazz murmured darkly.
"I've tried, than I realize I didn't have the strength in me to do it, so I conceded to make sure someone else kills me swiftly and leaving a respectable-looking corpse," Dead End told him. "I may be a fatalist, but I am neither suicidal nor masochistic."
"Ah, that's good, I guess, but can you sane enough to work in secret?" Jazz asked him.
"Have you got me confused with Wildrider?" Dead End asked.
"The Stunticons have a reputation for being the dysfunctional-ness and you understand my reluctance to work with you," Jazz told him.
"Then why me?" Dead End asked.
"Because I have no other options," Jazz told him.
"Uh-huh, yes, whatever, just get to the point. I'll keep it a secret," Dead End commanded him blandly.
"Do you promised?" Jazz asked.
"I'll treat it like everything else," Dead End told him.
"Considering the sensitivity of the fragging situation, I need you to actually care about this instead of getting obsessed with your self-loathing and your poetry. Do this for the group," Jazz snapped at him.
"Alright, fine, just tell me," Dead End told him. Jazz gave a deep sign in frustration before answering.
"There's a mole working for Monobear." For the first time in the whole conversation, Dead End looked up from his datapad.
"Okay. My interest has been pique," Dead End said. "I'm guessing that's the big, dark secret Blurr got so tell me who the six suspects are."
"Ratchet, Smokescreen, Chromedome, Nightbeat, Mirage, and Perceptor," Jazz told him.
"All Autobots? How interesting. I thought for sure it would be one of us," Dead End told him.
"Yeah, whatever, look, I need you to get close to Mirage. You two have got something in common, right?"
"We are both interested in poetry," Dead End replied, relaxing in his seat.
"Great. Work on that and get close to him. I need information" Jazz ordered.
"Hmpf, fine," he agreed. "May I ask who else is helping?"
"I'm dealing with Ratchet, Blurr's got Smokescreen, Counterpunch has Nightbeat, and Hoist is dealing with Perceptor."
"And Chromedome?" Dead End asked.
"Uh, well," Jazz hesitated, "we plan on getting Wildrider to do that." Dead End looked at him strangely.
"If I had a sense of humor, I would be laughing at you," Dead End told him blankly.
"I'm serious," Jazz told him.
"Oh, well, that changes things. Let me convince him to do it," Dead End told him, going back to his poem.
"Uh, what?" Jazz asked, startled.
"Look," Dead End lectured, glancing up at him, "Wildrider is on a different wavelength than everyone else. I'm the only one here prepared for dealing with him. Leave it to me," Dead End told him, going back to his datapad.
"Look, okay, but, I can't let you do this by yourself," Jazz told him.
"My, you are stupider than I thought," Dead End muttered.
"Come again?" the spy asked, glaring at him.
"Jazz, unlike you, I've had to live with Wildrider for far longer than most people should and managed to keep my sanity the same as it was before I met him. A stunning achievement that you will never match," Dead End told him in an almost sincere tone. "We are the very opposite of each other's spectrum. I'm on the end of the sane side and he's at the end of the insane side. Perfect foils to each other. Surprisingly, I would call him a friend in the vaguest of terms. Let me take care of him by myself and all will be quiet," Dead End finished his case, looking back down at his poem. Jazz stared at him before shaking his head in understanding.
"Alright, you make a good point. I'll let you handle it," Jazz said, getting up. "Don't screw up."
"Understand."
Hours Remaining: 87
"Hey Smokescreen. Hound," Blurr mentioned the latter off-handedly in the bar at the mall.
"What up?" Smokescreen greeted.
"You know, if you guys wanted to drink some good stuff, you could've just come to my bar. Mixmaster gave me plenty to service you guys," Blurr told them. Almost immediately, Smokescreen started glaring at him.
"Why the frag are you acting like a narc?" Smokescreen asked.
"Huh?" Blurr wondered.
"Oh, come on. 'Plenty to service you guys.' Seriously, I've had enough experience with them to tell when someone acts suspiciously, especially that prick, Prowl," Smokescreen told him.
"Yeah, it's kind of obvious," Hound agreed with him.
"So, why do you want to talk to me?" Smokescreen asked him, continuing to glare at Blurr.
"Hey, hey, look. I'm sorry, I'm just trying to gain some information," Blurr told him.
"About what?" Smokescreen asked him.
Blurr was nervous and trying to figure out a way to salvage this. "Can I talk to you privately?" Blurr asked him. Smokescreen glare deepen.
"Hound, could you leave us alone for just one minute?" Smokescreen asked him.
"Uh, sure. Just try not to be too serious," Hound told him as he got up and headed out of the bar with a cube of energon at hand.
"Alright, what?" Smokescreen asked him.
"Okay, look, an anonymous source told me that he saw Hound buying a weapon from the store," Blurr lied to him.
"No slag?" Smokescreen asked him in disbelief.
"It's the truth," Blurr told him, closing in. "How about me and you work together to make sure he doesn't do anything too hasty with that weapon." Smokescreen glanced at him.
"Alright," Smokescreen answered with a shake of his head. "If my life is in danger, I'll work with you."
"Alright, good," Blurr said as he turned to the bartender. "Two cubes of high-grade," he told him while showing off two digits. The bartender complied, bringing two out. Blurr grabbed both of them and hand one to Smokescreen. "Here's to our partnership," he told him, extending his cube. Smokescreen glared at hi before smirking and banging the cubes together.
"Here's," Smokescreen agreed and downed it.
Hours Remaining: 86
"What up, Deady? Lunch's is going to start soon and we should probably be heading there soon," Wildrider told him in the groundbridge room.
"Wildrider," Dead End snapped.
"Hmm?" Wildrider wondered, gazing at him.
"How would you like to be a secret agent?" Dead End asked him. Almost immediately, Wildrider smiled heartily.
"Yes yes yes yes!" Wildrider cheered loudly.
"Wildrider, you realized secret agent means clandestine, correct?" Dead End told him.
"I'll keep it a secret. Trust me. I won't tell a single soul," Wildrider agreed.
"This will last until the motive's timer run out, you understand?" he asked the manic.
"I understand," Wildrider agreed.
"Wildrider, everyone considers you a psychopath with no sense of subtlety. For the most part, they're right," Dead End told him bluntly, "but, I know you can do it if you put your mind to it, as I have seen for better or worse, especially when they said you couldn't wipe a whole squad out and came out with an arm and part of your head missing."
"I got it," Wildrider nodded. "I will followed your exact order. You are Motormaster if he wasn't a gigantic dick."
"I'll take that as an esteemed compliment," Dead End said blandly. "Now, listen, one of the Autobots is working for Monobear." Wildrider optics brighten at that.
"Seriously. I love this bastard and all that he does and you're telling me somebody has a link to him and didn't tell me," Wildrider ranted.
"Yes, I am, and I need you to spy on one of them and infiltrate their inner circle of friends or at least get them to tolerate you," Dead End ordered.
"Alright, who?" Wildrider asked him.
"Chromedome," Dead End told him.
"Oh, one-half of a conjunx endura. You spoil me, you know, deady," Wildrider complimented, lightly rubbing Dead End's front seductively. Dead End brushed it off, dismissing him.
"Yes, yes, whatever, just remember not to get caught and tell no one," Dead End told him as he started the groundbridge. "It's time for lunch."
Hours Remaining: 85
"Ah, Counterpunch. I'm surprised to see you again," Nightbeat said as the two logged on to the computer next to each other in the archives. "Why do you wish to see me again?" he asked.
"Some questions?" Nightbeat asked.
"Look, I'm trying to reconnect the dots on my past," Counterpunch half-lied to him.
"Ah, well, I guess I can help with that," Nightbeat told him. "What is it? Selective memory deletion, amnesia, or something else?"
"I honestly don't know. I mean, all things point to a life of someone completely different, but I still remember them," Counterpunch confessed to him. "I was thinking you could help me look through the archives and towards an answer to this."
"Hmm, I can try. It would be nice to do something non-murder related in this place," Nightbeat agreed. "Can you tell me anything about these memories?"
"Well, they involved Autobots, particularly that dirty spy," Counterpunch told him.
"Dirty spy? Do you mean Jazz?" Nightbeat asked him.
"Yes, him," Counterpunch verified. "Aside from that, I'm not sure what else to say. It's just blurry still shots."
"You should probably check out Ratchet or Knock Out to see if they can get any medicine to help you memories," Nightbeat told him.
"I'll remember that," Counterpunch told him.
"We could search through the memory banks on the archives and see if we could come up anything regarding you. Probably look through military engagements and other things," he told him.
"Alright, let's get started," Counterpunch agreed.
Hours Remaining: 84
"Hey, Ratchet, Knock Out, and Scavenger," Jazz greeted the three as he took a seat at the table in the lunchroom.
"Ah, Jazz. How are you?" Ratchet greeted.
"Doing fine. What are you three doing together?" Jazz asked.
"Well, as the only two medics, we inevitably have the most in common to talk about," Knock Out answered morosely.
"And Scavenger here says he wants to be a medic," Ratchet told him.
"He does?" Jazz asked.
"Well, I played medical assistant to Hook for pretty much the whole war, I might as well take the step up and apply for the full position," Scavenger told him as he munched on an oil ball. "I probably won't make it."
"He's also surprisingly cynical," Ratchet told him.
"What? Just the fact of the matter that I probably won't make it out of here alive. I mean, you three, yeah, you can get out of here, but me?" he told them. "I mean, Bludgeon, Blurr, Counterpunch, Nightbeat, Perceptor, Onslaught, Mixmaster, they are all people who would survive situations like this. Me? One or two more trials before I get axed," he explained.
"See what I mean?" he pointed out.
"Although his logic is flawed. I mean, Shockwave died first and Soundwave got executed. If they can died, than anybody can died," Knock Out pointed out.
"Good point," Ratchet agreed.
"Yeah, whatever," Scavenger mumbled.
"At this point, I really want to slap him," Knock Out murmured.
"Anyway, why are you here?" Scavenger asked the spy.
"Came to see how you guys are doing and provide back-up for Ratchet," he explained to them. "Don't want him to be outnumbered."
"Jazz, I am capable of taking care of myself," he told him. "Besides, I doubt they will try to kill me. Me and Knock Out have already come to an understanding."
"And my reputation is already in the can. My secret being exposed would barely do anything to affect people's perception of me," Scavenger told them.
"He's a very cheerful person," Knock Out sardonically remarked.
"Not as much as Dead End, haha. Trust me, I know," Jazz told him.
"Don't get me started on that sad sack," Knock Out complained. "So, place your bets on who has the deep, dark secret that somebody is going to kill over," he asked the group.
"Do you have to ask that, Knock Out?" Ratchet asked him.
"Hey, I just want to know who the frontrunners are so I can stay away from them," Knock Out told them. "What secrets do you guys got? Mine was that somebody bully someone enough to make them commit suicide," Knock Out told them.
"Do you really want to talk casually about this?" Ratchet asked them.
"Don't you. Come on, offset some of your weight onto our shoulders," Knock Out asked him.
"Ugh, fine," Ratchet agreed. "Someone here accidently killer their rival." He turned to Jazz. "What about you?"
"Someone was drunk off high-grade and killed someone by accident," Jazz told them.
"Alright, good," Knock Out said, turning to Scavenger. "How about you?"
"Someone's a serial killer," Scavenger told him.
"What?!" Knock Out asked.
"Come again?!" Ratchet asked.
"You're serious?" Jazz asked.
"Yes," Scavenger told them. "It said that someone murdered seven people. Pre-war."
"Oh, slag," Ratchet murmured. "Who is on that list of yours?" he asked.
"Let's see if I can remember. Uh, Bludgeon, Smokescreen, Blast Off, Swindle, Drift, and Nightbeat," he told them.
"Thanks for the info. In four hours, a name will go away. Do tell me," Knock Out told him.
"Agreed," Ratchet said.
"Same," Jazz agreed.
"Alright. I'll keep you informed," Scavenger agreed, getting up to leave. "I'll be in my room."
"I'll think I'll head to the mall for a little while. See you guys at dinner," Knock Out told them.
"Alright, see you guys later," Ratchet told them as he turned to Jazz. "Can I talk to you a little bit in private later?" he asked him.
"Uh, sure," Jazz agreed.
"Good. I would talk to you now, but I made an agreement with Drift to do some stupid meditation with him in a few minutes," he told him. "I could use it if it works."
"Right, take care," Jazz told him.
"You too," Ratchet agreed.
Hour Remaining: 83 Hours
"Ah, Mirage. How are you," Dead End greeted the ex-senator as he entered the mall's bookstore.
"Ah, if it isn't the manic-depressive poet," Mirage said as he began sifting through the datapads. "How are you?"
"Just fine," he replied.
"Ah, good. So, what do you want?" Mirage asked.
"Well, considering you're the most well-cultured one here, I figured we could talk more about poetry," Dead End offered.
"Hmm, sounds good," he agreed.
Over in the corner, Skywarp glared at the two, annoyed, as he kept reading his datapad to Laserbeak.
Hours Remaining: 82.5
"Hey there," Wildrider greeted the Conjunx Enduras at the tables in the mall who were eating oil balls. The two stared blankly at him before one of them talked.
"Uh, hey, uh, Wildrider. What do you want?" Rewind asked.
"Oh, me. I just want to make sure you two are fine after your little, you know, domestic thingy," Wildrider told them. "Wanted to make sure my OTP was still all good."
"OTP?" Chromedome asked, confused.
"Oh, nothing you need to worry about. Now, are your two cuties doing good?" Wildrider asked them.
Hours Remaining: 82.4
"Ah, 'Under the Western Sun.' Such a wonderful story," Mirage said as he examined the datapad on it. "Thank Primus they actually keep a copy of it here."
"Ah, a pretty good story by Aurelius, but I personally prefer his other work, 'The Farthest Reaches.' Either way, both are fantastic works of Fantasy," Dead End told him.
"Ah, yes, I agree," Mirage said. "He has such a good way of building his world with rich descriptions and lovely characters. It's such a shame that people didn't pay much attention to him."
"Well, Fantasy isn't exactly a popular genre for the masses," Dead End remind him.
"Yeah, it isn't."
Skywarp and Laswerbeak continued to glare at them as they disturbed their peace.
Hours Remaining: 82.3
"Well, we went and got these oil balls from the candy store over there," Rewind told him, pointing towards the store over there.
"Oh, really, we got a candy store!" Wildrider yelled, looking at it. "I had no idea."
"Yes, well, now you know," Chromedome told him roughly.
"Hey, is that an unfriendly tone," Wildrider asked, turning to look at him.
"You are an unsavory type," he told him.
"Oh, really?" Wildrider asked, sounding hurt.
"Yes," Chromedome told him.
"Domey, that isn't nice. We're all friends here," Rewind told him.
"Oh, Rewind, you misunderstand me. I'm not hurt that he insulted me. I'm hurt that he didn't go further. I mean, 'unsavory.' Come on, that's a protoform level insult at best. Please," he begged, leaning in, "imbue me with your wonderful hatred."
Hours Remaining: 82.2
"Ah, thank you Dead End for being my reading partner. I knew all of you Decepticons weren't bad, but it's nice to get someone to remind me," Mirage thanked him.
"It was nice to meet someone cultural. Amongst the Decepticons, it's just a bunch of savages and imbeciles, so dealing with people who are actually smart is wonderful," Dead End thanked him as well.
"You know, this was a pretty fruitful experience. I wouldn't mind spending time with you tomorrow," Mirage told him.
"II wouldn't mind it," Dead End agreed.
"Good," he said, offering his hand out to shake. Dead End glance at it before grasping it and shaking it.
"See you at dinner," he told him," he told him, the two heading off.
Skywarp glared at where the two were previous at and gave a small smirk. "Alright, Laz, let's finished off Cyber Ninja Academy," he told him as they looked through the comic on the datapad.
Hours Remaining: 82.1
"See, now that's better," Wildrider thanked Chromedome. "I needed some more hatred. Something I got from Motormaster, that gigantic dick."
"Uh, okay," Rewind said nervously.
"I'm a masochist," Wildrider told them. "Physical and emotional."
"Wow, you're… really screwed up," Rewind murmured.
"Beyond screwed up," Chromedome agreed.
"Yeah, well, I've been broken for a long time, so it's nothing new," Wildrider told them.
"It's getting close to dinner," Rewind told them.
"Oh, alright. I'll see you two lovebirds at dinner, alright?" Wildrider asked two stared silently at him. "Alright," he muttered, walking off.
Hours Remaining: 81.3
"Alright, so what are we here for?" Swindle asked Onslaught as him and Blast Off sat at the table in the lunchroom.
"Blast Off showed me the psychology experiments," Onslaught told him.
"Psychology experiments," a harsh voiced asked. The group turned to the door to see Bludgeon and Nautilator answering the room together. "What kind?" Bludgeon asked him.
"Why do we always see you two together?" Swindle asked them.
"It's an odd friendship," Nautilator told him.
"Anyway," Blast Off interrupted, "the psychology experiments were something Vortex found in his final hour. It's a long list of psychological experiments committed by various groups and races that decided to test the limits of the mind. Cybertronian, Human, and many more."
"Alright, you have my interest," Bludgeon said as he took his usual spot at the table.
"I don't get it," Nautilator told him as he took a seat in his spot too, "but I'm up for learning more things."
"Psychology experiment are a touchy bunch," Blast Off told him. "Take, for example, the prisoner's dilemma. It's a game theory in when you two individuals, let's called them prisoner A and B, in separate places, completely isolated from each other. Each one of them is offered a deal. If both of them stay silent and say nothing, than they will be released in two years' time. However, if one defects, say prisoner A, and tells something while the other does nothing, than prisoner A gets out immediately and Prisoner B gets six years' worth. If both of them tell them something, they both get out in four years."
"Oh, yeah, that terrible thing. It's upon the fact that, people will more than likely snitch because they will get less prison time, just in case the other defects. Each prisoner realizes that there is less risk involve in choosing to stay silent, so they talk, just in case," Swindle explained the rest.
"It just gets weirder from there," Onslaught told them. "The Milgram Experiment, The Bystander Experiment, The Stanford Prison Experiment, and that's just the humans. You don't want to know what we've done in the name of psychology."
"Doesn't have quite the ring to it that science has," Nautilator commented.
"It doesn't matter. The point is, this is another one of these psychological experiments," Onslaught told them. "We're living in a psychological experiment of his own design. To get us to our breaking point and see just what we'll do to get out alive. See who's willing to sacrifice the rest to escape and smart enough to pull it off."
"Hmm, it is a cruel experiment," Bludgeon agreed. "If I was smart enough, I would pull it off."
"Haha, that's funny," Nautilator chuckled, giving him a light punch in the arm. "You're kidding right?" Bludgeon glared at him and Nautilator's laugh deaden. "Oh slag, you're not kidding."
"It's nothing personal."
"Okay, that's enough," Onslaught interrupted. "The point is, the person who did all this and is doing it with a bias, looking for the results he want. The best way to get out of here alive is to defy him."
"Yeah, way to point out the obvious, too mad the motives prevent that from actually happening. I mean, we all got them, right? We can all agree that people are more than willing to kill to prevent that from being exposed," Swindle told the group. "It's just a matter of when."
"Okay, you're really killing my mood now," Nautilator told him.
"Get over it. I'm just telling the truth," Swindle barked.
Hours Remaining: 81
"Well, that was a waste," Drift grumbled as he took a seat at the bar in the mall.
"Are you despairing, my friend?" the bartender.
"What, no," Drift answered.
"Ah, too bad. I wished you would be like that little blue guy over there," he said with a nod over to his right. Drift turned to looked at Beachcomber at the bar, drinking some high-grade.
"How long has he been drinking?" Drift asked.
"An hour, consisting entirely of high-grade," the bartender answered.
"Seriously," Drift asked in disbelief.
"I heard scientist are really good at drinking people under the table, and last I check, geology is a field of science," he answered.
"Well, I believe you," he answered, getting up and walking over to take a seat next to him. "Hey, Beachcomber," Drift greeted.
"Heeeeey, what up?" Beachcomber asked him.
"I didn't take you as a heavy drinker," Drift noticed.
"Well, I wasn't until me and Shockers had some one-on-one timeee," Beachcomber answered.
"Oh, yeah… that," Drift murmured.
"Some awful, evil monster of a Decepticon captured me and brought me to Shockwave to be experimented on," Beachcomber blubbered, staring at him. "You know, he kind of looks like you, just, you know, eviler looking."
"Oh, yeah, that… I had a twin, you know," he lied. "Awful guy, did a lot of bad things. But he's dead now. He won't be do anymore things like that," Drift told him. Beachcomber stared at him blankly before locking him in a hug.
"You promised?" Beachcomber asked him. Drift hesitated before he answered.
"I promised."
Hours Remaining: 80.05
"Come on in," Jazz greeted Ratchet after he knocked on the door. "How did your meditation go?"
"Terrible. I don't know how he convinced me to go along with that," Ratchet complained as he entered the room. Jazz closed the door behind him and sat down in their chairs.
"Okay, so what did you want, Ratchet?" Jazz asked.
"Well, to put it bluntly, you have my secret," Ratchet answered.
"Uh?!" Jazz asked, surprised.
"I killed someone by accident while I was over-energized with high-grade," Ratchet told him.
"What… but…," Jazz blubbered.
"Look, Pharma, the one that I had tailor-made to take over when I got too old to work, just shown himself to be a complete pit-slag insane and I was in a bad place. I mean, I've been working with him for over a year, only for it to turn out he was a complete psychopath. I… I drank some high-grade when I got a called saying that someone was injured. A couple pieces of shrapnel got in him, hit nothing critical. I thought in my overloaded state, that I could still do it. In the end, it ended with one dead patient on my table, who died when I slipped up and accidently cut into his spark. He died screaming." Ratchet went silent as he finished his explanation. Jazz stated at him dumbly as he processed the information.
"Ratchet, that's… that's-"
"Horrible, despicable, stupidest decision of my life, those are all viable answers, but it's something I have to live with. I've accept that. If Monobear exposes it to the world, then I'll live with that. Whatever. I don't care. I've already told Optimus. We've talked it through. We promised to keep it silent along with First Aid, the one who assisted me. We are the only ones who know, or at least I thought we were," Ratchet ended, thinking it through. "How did they know about that?"
"Ratchet, don't change the subject. What you did… is-"
"Jazz, complaining to me about being immoral is hypocritical and you know it," Ratchet reminded him. "You're nowhere near a manipulative bastard as Prowl, but I know you've done a couple of questionable things. Now-" he said, getting up, "-I'm leaving. I told you my secret because you had it. Seemed reasonable and I could trust you. I'm didn't tell you this for your judgment, I told you this because I consider you as a friend. Live with what I've done like I've live what you've done. Simple. Now, I'll see you at dinner. See you there," Ratchet told him as he leaved and opened the door. "What the-" Jazz turned to see what Ratchet had seen. There at the door was Scavenger, holding his head which had energon trickling.
"Guys, somebody came into my room, bashed my head in, wrecked my room, and took the datapad with the secret on it."