RED GROUP
"Right…," Jazz murmured, looking over his group. "What do you want to do?"
"Strategies," Onslaught murmured.
"Eating oil balls," Beachcomber said, really wanting some.
"Katas," Bludgeon bluntly said.
"Investigate the school," Nightbeat stated.
"Uh…," Nautilator mumbled, "I guess nothing works for me."
"Okay… not very helpful," Jazz told them. "I was hoping there was a consensus on what to do."
"I say we take my suggestion," Nightbeat told them. "We can't waste out time with useless trivialities."
"I find strategies on how not to get everyone killed to be a good way to spend the time," Onslaught rebuked him. "We need to come up with plans and a schedule to abide by so that everything goes smoothly during out time together."
"We've already split up into groups. There is no need to take further measures aside from watching each other," Nightbeat countered. "We need to investigate the school for more clues."
"And I say we concentrate more on safeguards against murders so another one doesn't happen," Onslaught badgered him, getting in his face.
"We already have enough. We just need to start searching for more clues," Nightbeat said, not backing down, glaring up at him.
"Will you two be silent?" Bludgeon asked the two, holding his head in pain. "Your bickering is helping no one." The two continued to glare at each other before they reluctantly backed off from each other.
"Fine, but how do we decide what to do?" Nightbeat questioned his group.
"I say we take a majority vote," Onslaught offered.
"I guess that could work," Nightbeat agreed.
"Wasn't I supposed to be leading this group…?" Jazz murmured.
"Alright, if you side with me, raise your hand," Onslaught told the other four. No one did. "Hey, are any of you voting?"
"It would appear not," Nightbeat murmured.
"I rather not do anything with you two at each other's throat," Bludgeon told them.
"Yeah, you two fighting is kind of not good," Beachcomber murmured in agreement.
"Oh, you're kidding me," Nightbeat mumbled before addressing them. "We're not fighting, we're just… disagreeing harshly with one another."
"Sounds like fighting," he noted.
"Okay, I think that's enough," Jazz said, getting in the fray. "Obviously, this isn't going very well."
"Their fault," Nautilator immediately blamed the two arguing.
"Keep out of this," Nightbeat told him.
"Hey, I'm part of the group too," he complained.
"Yes, but you're extraneous," Nightbeat told him bluntly.
"H-hey, that's not nice!" Nautilator pointed.
"You're point being?" he questioned. "We don't have to be nice to each other."
"But you will be since I'm here," Bludgeon growled, cracking his knuckles together.
"Huh-huh… yeah," Nightbeat murmured, feeling annoyed. "I see your point. Most exemplary."
"Your sarcasm is noted," he glared down at him.
"Hey, calm down everyone! We're struggling together here," Beachcomber reminded them. "We all have one enemy and that's Monobear and whoever's controlling him."
"He's right. We should be working together, not fighting," Onslaught agreed. Everyone went quiet as they all remember the main enemy here.
"Well then," Nightbeat spoke first, "since we need to be working together, it's probably best to have one person in the lead so that we don't fight." He turned to Jazz. "Jazz, since you're the highest ranking person here, I recommend you."
"Fine with me," Onslaught agreed. "Any problems with him leading?" No one spoke up.
"Well…," Jazz murmured, "guess that's good. How about we all head to the mall and get supplies for staying in the room together. We're going to need them for the time together."
"Lead the way," Nightbeat told him.
YELLOW GROUP
"I love oil balls," Scavenger said before popping one in his mouth.
"For once, I agree with you," Skywarp agreed as he popped one in his mouth. He gave a moan in enjoyment before he saw Laserbeak glaring at him. "Oh, you want one?" His pet perked up and shook his head yes. "Here you go," he said, laying it in front of him, letting him nibble on it.
"Is that healthy for him?" Scavenger asked him, watching Laserbeak nibble on the ball.
"I don't know," Skywarp admitted, "but it looks like he enjoys it."
"That probably a bad thing," Scavenger murmured.
"Oh, calm down. He'll be fine," Skywarp told him.
A little away from the two, Bumblebee watched the two suspiciously as Drift was busy comforting Ratchet and Wildrider was doing… something. Bumblebee was suspicious of all three of the Decepticons, particularly Wildrider, and was pretty nervous about Ratchet's sanity due to the shocking reveal about Optimus. As far as he could tell, Drift was the only one he could rely, but he will probably be spending all of his time with Ratchet to try and make him feel better. That meant that Bumblebee could only rely on himself to get anything done and be a leader.
He really wished he was leading a more stable group.
"What up?" a voice asked, causing him to jump and turned to Wildrider on his left, staring intently at him.
"Primus, Wildrider. Could you be less quiet," Bumblebee asked him, before realizing something. Wildrider… being quiet. There was something wrong with that. "Why are you so quiet?"
"Uh, I wasn't. You were too busy glaring at the two oil-ball eaters to concentrate on me stomping loudly to you," he told him.
"Well, then do everything louder. I want to know where you are at all times," Bumblebee told him. "Especially you."
"Is this about that desecration thing?" he cheekily asked. Bumblebee glared daggers at him. "Right… that isn't very nice," he told him.
"Do I even have to comment on the hypocrisy in that statement?" he asked him.
"That's mean," Wildrider muttered, "but I promise, I won't do anything… this motive."
"Come again," Bumblebee asked.
"I'm saying, relax. I'm on your side for now," Wildrider told him. "Don't you think me doing anything again so soon would be suspicious? I am here to help."
"You're being very lucid and sane right now," Bumblebee noticed suspiciously.
"What can I say, I have layers," the manic told him. "Like taking apart a dead body."
"And you're back to disturbing," the scout quipped. "Stay in my sight at all times."
Meanwhile, Drift was busy comforting Ratchet at a nearby table. "Hey, Ratchet, everything will be alright. You got that?" he asked him, sitting next to him.
"H-How can you said that?" Ratchet questioned, his voice breaking. "You s-saw it, didn't you? You can't fake that!"
"Well… something has to be fake. Optimus dying that easily and without us knowing is impossible and you know it."
"We've lost t-the m-m-memory of an unknown a-amount of time. You know t-this, there's no denying it. Anything c-could've happen in that time and we wouldn't know it now."
"H-Hey there's no need to say that. We've haven't seen the body, right?" Drift told him. "Maybe all of that was some computer-generated image of some sort. It could all be fake." Drift knew that sounded like a pathetic reason. The way Jazz's footage looked and the way his own footage looked was all too real.
"Do you even believe yourself?!" the medic angrily asked him. The swordsman flinch, but didn't move away.
"To be honest? No," Drift admitted, "but, you're still alive. I'm still alive. 22 other people are. Doesn't that matter?" he asked him.
"If the outside world is like the videos make it out to be, then no. The fact that we're still doesn't matter one bit," Ratchet argued, glaring at him deep in his optics. Drift noticed that Ratchet was speaking better the angrier he got. "What's the point of surviving if the world outside is dead again. All that we worked for, all the deaths that occurred because of the war, would be for nothing!" he continued to rant causing the others in the group to look at the two.
"Uh, Ratchet, could you calm down?" Drift asked him nervously.
"Why?!" Ratchet badgered him.
"Well… do you think Optimus would want you to act like this?" Drift asked him.
"Huh?" Ratchet asked, startled.
"Well, do you think Optimus would just want you to give up at a time like this?" Drift clarified. "I mean, he could be dead, the world could be burning down again, and you're just… giving up like this?" Ratchet optics brighten as he talked, taking in what he said. "Optimus always wanted us to keep going, hoping for the best, no matter how bad it got. We should be honoring him by moving ahead and not giving up until we're dead." Drift finished his speech with as much bravado as he could muster. Ratchet looked away, contemplating his words, lightly tapping his fingers on the table before giving a small, rough smile and looking back up.
"Fine… I'll keep going," Ratchet murmured, sounding withdrawn. "I'll keep going until someone kills me." Drift gave a smile back and replied:
"I won't let that happen."
BLUE GROUP
"Okay," Perceptor muttered in the AV room with his group, "is there any way to prove conclusively that these videos are real or fake?"
"Well, I compared the schematics of the building in Jazz's footage with the real one and they match," Rewind mentioned, sitting in front of the screen. "The only one who could've known it is probably Red Alert and maybe a couple of builders, but none of them seemed like they wanted the world to die again."
"And I've taken a look at the disk itself," Swindle mentioned, sitting beside Rewind. "It was custom-made, very high quality. You would have to try very hard to break it. I looked for any way to track it to anyone or figure out exactly what it was for, but that led nowhere."
"Is there anything else we can do?" Hound asked the two, standing behind Rewind.
"I don't know…," Rewind said bleakly. "I would say that the footage is real, but considering what's on it, I really don't want it to be…"
"No one does," Mirage mentioned, sitting away from everyone, "but if the evidence supports it, we have no choice but to believe."
"He's right," Blast Off said, standing behind Swindle. "We can't just reject the obvious when all signs point to it. We have to accept that Optimus Prime is dead until we get any conflicting information."
"Ugh," Hound groaned. "I wish we didn't have to. If he's actually gone.…"
"Get that out of your mind," Perceptor told him. "While it is grim news, we can't let it affect us at this moment. We'll grieve once we're out of here."
"I know," Hound agreed. "We need to concentrate on escape."
"And… how do we do that?" Swindle asked. "He's blocked every exit with indestructible objects, stripped us of our weapons except with what he provides, and is a giant slagger."
"He makes a valid point," Blast Off agreed with some hesitation. "It seems impossible to escape with our current information."
"Well, then we'll just if to search better," Hound said. "There has to be a chink in his armor that we can take pierce."
"Well, that is going to take a lot of effort to expose," Blast Off mentioned. "The mastermind has prepared his twisted multiple times for previous players. He has learned from each of those groups and will use that against us."
"It seems so hopeless," Rewind said. "How can we beat someone who's ahead of us every step of the way?"
"Rewind, don't say things like that," Hound told him. "That's exactly what he wants us to think."
"He's right," Perceptor agreed. "If you find the situation hopeless, you're doing exactly what he wants you to do."
"They make a fair point," Blast off agreed. "I refuse to just roll over and die in the face of adversity."
"Uh, well…," Rewind muttered, "I'm sorry. You're right. Chromedome wouldn't want me to just give up like this."
"It's okay," Swindle said, looking sympathetic. Rewind remember hearing about Swindle having a meltdown after the second trial so he must know how he was feeling.
"Okay, what should we do now?" Blast Off asked the room. "Since this is as far as we can go with the videotapes, we should pursue another angle."
"Or we could take it easy and wait until the motive is over," Hound recommended. "I rather not risk anything that could get us killed."
"Okay, time for a vote. All of those of going for another lead, raise, you're hand," Perceptor told the group. Mirage and Blast Off raised their hand. "All who want to take it easy, raised their hands." Swindle, Hound, Rewind, and Perceptor raised their hands. "Majority rules. We relax for now."
"Fine… so what now?" Blast Off asked the group.
"Well, how about we head to the lunchroom. I imagine we'll be regrouping for diner soon," Rewind mentioned.
"Alright, sounds good," Perceptor said, heading for the door. "Let's head out."
PURPLE GROUP
Knock Out stared at the purple line on his shoulder, resisting the urge to just claw at it and be rid of it. The offensive streak… made him asymmetrical. He really wanted to just paint over that ugly, murky purple with his beautiful, lustrous red, but that would violate the rules that his group had made and he didn't want anyone to lecture him on it.
So he complained instead.
"Must we continue to have this eyesore on our shoulders?" he asked the group, who was chatting with each other in the casino.
"Uh… yes," Hoist bluntly told him.
"Honestly, do we really need it?" he asked them.
"Hey, it doesn't hurt to be careful," Smokescreen told him, paying attention to the blackjack game he was playing. "Hit." The dealer did as he was told and laid down another card next to Smokescreen's cards, a six and a seven, which revealed an eight, giving him a 21. "Hell yeah!" The dealer glared at him and laid down two cards quickly for his two card and scored a twenty. He laid down another card, knowing he would lose if it wasn't an ace and was disappointed when it revealed a two.
"My, how… despairing," the dealer muttered before handing enough monocoins that double Smokescreen's current stack.
"That's how I roll," he said, greedily taking it in before putting three-fourth of his stack in. "Come on, let's go!" The dealer glared at him before dealing out the cards. Immediately, he grimaced when Smokescreen was handed an ace and a jack. "Blackjack!"
"Yahtzee!" Knock Out mocked him before turning to the other four as Smokescreen took in an even bigger stack. "Seriously, if we could all just go to the art section-"
"No," Mixmaster rejected.
"No one asked you, you color impaired monster," Knock Out told him, grimacing at Mixmaster.
"Hmph, it's not easy being green-and-purple," Mixmaster muttered.
"Now, if we could just-"
"Would you be quiet? You're interrupted my reading," Dead End interjected, glaring at him from behind a datapad.
"Why you snobby, nihilistic poet," Knock Out grumbled at him. "If we could-"
"Can you learn to shut up?" Blurr asked him, glaring at him. "Dead End's vain, but he knows how to keep his mouth shut," he said, nudging the poet with his elbow, throwing him slightly off balance, but recovered quickly. The poet glared at the racer before turning to extremely vain.
"He's correct, now do what we say and shut up," he told him, going back to his datapad. Knock Out gave a small growing noise and buried his face in the table. He wallowed in his misery as a comforting hand laid on his shoulder. He looked up to see Hoist looking sympathetically at him.
"Look… I'm not one to care for looks-"
"Obviously," the fashionable 'Con mumbled.
"-but I know you do, and I would like to let you paint that off, but we have to make sure everyone gets out of this situation alive. The best way to do that is to make sure everyone follows the rules we give to each other and stand united as a group," Hoist tried to inspire him. Knock Out glared at him before sticking his head down in the table, thinking about it. After a few seconds, he looked back up at the repairer.
"Okay, but if anyone dies during out time with this abomination streaking on my shoulder, I'm punching you in the face," Knock Out threaten him. Hoist stared at him, confused, before giving a small chuckle.
"Alright, if you say so," Hoist agreed.
"Good," Knock Out said, burying his face in his hands, "now leave me alone." Hoist glance down at him bemused before turning back to the other's conversation.
At seven, the groups rendezvous at the back at the cafeteria. "Alright, is everybody settling in their groups alright?" Jazz asked everyone. Everyone gave answers comparable to yes. "Well, that's good."
"So, we're going to stay in someone's room together, right?" Hound asked the room.
"Yes, correct," Perceptor confirm. "Of course, we'll probably need two people to watch everybody while we're sleeping, just in case."
"You want to take three three-hour shifts?" Onslaught asked him.
"That will work fine," he agreed.
"Ugh, way to ruin by beauty sleep," Knock Out complained openly to them.
"Hey, it never hurts to play it safe," Rewind told him.
"Ugh…," Knock Out groaned.
"Anyway, I'll guess we'll decide amongst ourselves which room to sleep in as a group," Hoist mentioned.
"And, most importantly, who will get the berth," Swindle mentioned, rubbing his neck. "My neck cables still haven't gotten over when Bludgeon forced the rest of us to sleep on the floor."
"Which I will have again, no complaints," Bludgeon told his group.
"Wow, you're really protective of a bed," Swindle pointed out.
"Well, I believe we're done, right?" Jazz asked the room to assenting agreement. "Alright, that's good."
*Ding Dong*
"This is an announcement. It is currently 10PM. Please rest peacefully," Monobear's voiced rang from the speakers as Jazz's group enter his room.
"Alright, so have we agreed to the shifts?" Jazz asked everyone. "Me and Beachcomber will take the first, Onslaught and Nightbeat will take the second, and Bludgeon and Nautilator will round it out."
"Works fine," Bludgeon agreed, taking his place on the bed and relaxing.
"Fine," Nautilator agreed, taking his place next to the bed.
"Understood," Nightbeat agreed, sitting against a wall.
"Stay safe," Onslaught told him, sitting against the wall near the entrance. Within ten minutes, they four of them were recharging leaving Beachcomber and Jazz by themselves.
"Well, just the two of us," Beachcomber muttered, rubbing his head.
"Yeah," Jazz muttered, leaning against the wall. "I'm guessing you agreed to the first shift due to your insomniac activities."
"Yeah," Beachcomber mutter, taking a seat in a chair at the table. "I hope the next three days go well."
"Yeah…," Jazz murmured. The two stayed silent as they looked around the room. This didn't last long.
"Hey, do you wanna talk?" Beachcomber asked him.
"Huh? About what?" Jazz asked him.
"Do I really have to tell you?"
"…No." Jazz got up and took a seat across from Beachcomber. "Alright, so what exactly about the project do you want to know."
"How much can you tell me," Beachcomber asked, glaring at him.
"Well, I guess you can ask about whatever you want," Jazz said with a shrug. "With Counterpunch's death, I see no reason to keep it hidden, so it should be safe to disclose anything."
"I want to know everything," Beachcomber told him.
"Well, good thing we got several hours to each other," Jazz murmured before he began explaining.
"Alright, me and Wildrider will take the first shift, Ratchet and Drift the second, and then Skywarp and Scavenger will finish it off," Bumblebee announced to everybody.
"Right, you got it!" Drift nodded with approval as he turned to Ratchet. To his surprised, it looked like he was already sleeping on the berth. Drift stared sympathetically down at him before taking a seat next to him and entering recharge state as well.
"Well, good luck," Scavenger said as he took a seat at the wall and started recharging. "See you in six hours…."
"Huh," Skywarp murmured, before he took seat with Scavenger and drifted off as well.
"Well," Wildrider murmured at the table, quietly drumming his fingers on the table, "just the two of us."
"Yeah…," Bumblebee murmured, taking a seat across from him. The two silently looked at each other, before Wildrider spoke.
"So… you want to swap stories?" he asked.
"Stories?" Bumblebee asked to make sure.
"Yeah, unless you just want us to stare at each other for three hours. That's… cool," Wildrider mumbled, sounding bored.
"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Bumblebee muttered. "What do you want to know?"
"Something cool! Something dangerous! An adventure filled with explosions!" Wildrider somehow managed to whisper loudly.
"Uh, well… there was this one thing me, Optimus, Hound, Drift, and Crosshairs did together. It has a lot of the things you like," the scout told him.
"Oh, intriguing," Wildrider muttered in anticipation before thinking it through. "Who's Crosshairs?"
"Paratrooper. Green-and-black. Sarcastic as all hell," Bumblebee told him. "Looks like he's always wearing a trench coat."
"Oh, yeah! Him. Carry on," Wildrider beckoned.
"Uh-huh, well, the five of us were on a planet called Devola…."
"Right, me and Swindle will take the first shift, followed by Mirage and Blast Off, then Rewind and Hound finishes it off," Perceptor informed everyone. Everyone gave a nod of acknowledgement and went to recharge. Rewind slept on the berth and made Rewind room for Hound to recharge with hm. Hound looked surprised before lying next to him and started recharging. Blast Off and Mirage glared at each other before taking a seat on the floor at opposite ends of the room and started recharging. Perceptor and Swindle glanced at each before taking a seat at the table together.
"So… what to do until we're done with our shifts?" Swindle asked him.
"Well, it would be wasteful to do nothing, so let's talk," Perceptor told him.
"About what?"
"Whatever. The past, the future, or the present. Anything you want," Perceptor told him.
"Oh, well… how about the future?" Swindle asked him. "When we get out of here, what are we going to find?"
"That? Well, I don't know. If all of the footage are real, then we'll be walking into a destroyed world again," Perceptor murmured. "Dilapidated buildings, dead bodies, the works."
"How nostalgic," Swindle murmured, rubbing his head nervously. "Sounds like we're back at the apex of the war."
"Yes, it is," the scientist agreed.
"Hmph, 75 years of Reconstruction, down the drain…."
"Hmm, so it's decided?" Dead End asked everyone.
"Yes. Blurr and Knock Out will take the first shift, Hoist and me on the second, and Dead End and Mixmaster will finish it off," Smokescreen asked everybody.
"That seems fair," Dead End agreed.
"Hmph, at least I didn't get the middle shift," Knock Out said with disdain as he went and took a seat at the table, with Blurr mimicking him, sitting across from him. Dead End laid down on the berth while the others went and took a seat with their back to the wall and began recharging, leaving the two speedsters by themselves.
"Well, just the two of us," Blurr murmured, relaxing in his chair.
"Yeah, I guess so," Knock Out murmured. "So, who do you think will be the next one bumped off?"
"Huh?" Blurr asked, looking at him oddly. "Why are you asking that?"
"Look, I'm not going to pretend that another murder isn't going to happen, despite the restricting circumstances," the medic replied coolly. "If people are determine to get out of here, then they will murder someone."
"Huh, well, you can't be certain," Blurr mentioned.
"Plus, the person who assaulted Scavenger is still alive, don't forget that," he reminded him. "That's at least one wildcard we have to worry about."
"Dammit," Blurr murmured. "I wish you didn't remind me of that."
"What? Is the truth too painful?" Knock Out questioned.
"I… just don't want to be reminded that we can trust no one here," Blurr told him. "IT's a comfort that I didn't realize I was taking for granted."
"You get used to it," Knock Out told him apathetically, looking away to the ones sleeping on the walls. "You still haven't answered my question."
"Huh?" Blurr asked, dreading it.
"Who do you think is going to die next?" Knock Out repeated.
"Uh, well… I can't answer," Blurr told him. "Have you given it any thought?"
"Some," Knock Out confirmed. "Right now, I'm hedging my bets on either Mirage, Blast Off, Nightbeat, or Dead End."
"Why?" Blurr asked.
"Dead End's making enemies, Nightbeat is too good at his job, and the two aristocrats are starting to get at each other's throat. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them dies next."
"Huh, you really did thought it through," the racer noticed.
"Well, if you got time, you might as well think about survival odds," Knock Out mentioned. "This is a game of survival."