"Now then, are all of you ready to vote?" Monobear asked the room cheerily.
"Yeah, I think we've reached the right conclusion," Jazz agreed for the whole group.
"Alrighty then, just like before, vote for who you think the killer or killers are in this case! Two bodies so you can pick up to two," Monobear told them. Everyone nodded and got their electroID out, preparing to vote. Hoist was slow on the draw, but followed along after a few seconds and clicked on voting. Thirty headshots came up, all the previously dead teachers having blue Xs with Chromedome, Mirage, and Nightbeat added to it and the question 'Who killed Mirage' at the top. He clicked on Nightbeat and his headshot enlarge to cover the screen and it ask if he was sure of his selection. He said yes and the pictures went back to the thirty headshots with the question "Who killed Nightbeat?" on it. He clicked on Mirage and the question came up again and Hoist hesitated slightly before clicking on it. He was dead anyway.
Hoist put up his electroID, the last one, and Monobear began speaking again. "The results are in. Are you despairingly correct or despairingly wrong? First, the result of who killed Mirage!" he announced and the slot machine from nowhere started up, spinning and spinning before landing on Nightbeat and a bunch of confetti and coins erupted from it. "Now for who killed Nightbeat!" he announced and the slots spin again until it landed on three pictures of Mirage and they were right again, covering everyone in coins and confetti. "Congratulations! Mirage, the Ultimate Scion, and Nightbeat, the Ultimate Detective, killed each other, making each other the culprits of this case! Let me be honest, I've never seen that before!" Monobear announced to everyone
"Well, didn't see this coming," Skywarp muttered, scratching Laserbeak's head.
"No kidding," Drift agreed, pleased with the results. "That result never crossed my mind."
"So… is their still going to be an execution?" Knock Out asked, unsure.
"Well, as much as I want to, nah. Got to follow the rules. Besides, I'll just count Nightbeat's death as an execution. Certainly came across as a cheap rip-off of my planned execution for him," Monobear told them. "Kind of disappointing, I'll be honest, but that overpowered Nightbeat is finally gone, so I'll take it!" he yelled happily.
"Well, there's one small comfort," Ratchet muttered.
"Not much of one," Dead End muttered.
"I know. Two people are still dead."
"Better than all of us." Drift reminded them. "Remember that."
"Yeah… always a positive," Smokescreen muttered as he looked at Hoist, who was staring at his Newton's cradle. "You alright, Hoist?" he asked him.
"Just fine…," Hoist said, his voice hallow. "I just… need to be alone for a little while."
"You don't have to be."
"Trust me, I'll be fine. I just need to think Mirage's actions over," he repeated in that same hallow tone.
"I swear, you're an idiot if you think I'm going to leave you alone."
"So…," Skywarp muttered, trying to change the subject, "the new area is open, right Monobear?"
"Well, you survived, so you are correct! That must be a rare feeling," the bear chuckled.
"Hey, I'm smarter than I look!" he yelled, shaking a fist at the bear.
"They say denial is the first step," he continue to taunt the bear.
"Ergggg," Skywarp muttered, with Laserbeak rubbing against his neck to cool him down. "Let's get out of here before I make a decision I regret," he ordered everyone, walking out to the elevator.
"That would be for the best," Hound agreed, and one-by-one, everyone headed to the elevator, the last ones being Hoist and Smokescreen, the former carrying the Newton's Cradle and the latter the toolbox. With they entered, Blurr pressed the button and the whole group rode up the rickety elevator up back to the first floor of the building and filed out, splitting off.
"Drinks all around," Blurr said as he poured glasses of low-grade for everyone that met up at the bar, in this case, being Jazz, Bumblebee, The two Constructicons, Ratchet, Drift, Beachcomber, and, most surprisingly, Dead End.
"Thanks, Blurr," Jazz said as they got their drinks.
"Much appreciated," he said as he finished off by giving himself a drink.
"I swear, I'm so disappointed," Drift murmured, taking a drink. "I thought this was going to work."
"I'm glad I almost never feel that," Dead End muttered.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you were right. Another murder happened. Bet you're happy," Drift angrily said.
"I have no reason to be happy," he responded, drinking the low-grade quickly.
"You're no Wildrider," Mixmaster murmured.
"Yeah, glad that psycho didn't join us," Bumblebee muttered. "I can't help feeling uncomfortable around him, even when he's helpful."
"Hey, no psycho talk. Save that for the hangover tomorrow," Blurr told him, downing the glass.
"I find nothing wrong with that statement," Ratchet agreed. "I needed this drink after all that's happen in the past couple of days."
"I need one for everything that's happen since we got here," Beachcomber muttered.
"That too."
"So, just 22 of us left alive," Scavenger said, finishing his glass. "That isn't a very comforting feeling."
"Hey, don't worry, we still have over two-thirds of the people left alive," Jazz told him.
"We still have eight dead," Dead End shot him down, "plus all the bodies in the basement."
"We still have no idea what we did during out time here except for the fact that we did teach students," Bumblebee added.
"Amnesia sucks," Beachcomber summarized his statement.
"We'll figure it out. Just give it time," Jazz told them.
"We have a limited amount of time, in case you forgot," Dead End reminded him, finishing his glass.
"Yeah… but I imagine we have enough."
"How annoyingly hopeful."
"Okay, you two are annoying," Ratchet murmured, finishing off the glass. "We can't afford to be eternally hopeful," he glared at Jazz, "nor can we think every effort is for naught," he shifted it to Dead End, "but methodically research everything we have with heavy skepticism of our peers' intentions."
"It makes sense," Mixmaster agreed, finishing his glass as well. "I refuse to be killed by anyone here, but I want to get as many people out as I can."
"Including me?" Scavenger asked, unsure.
"Especially you," Mixmaster told him.
"…Thanks," his gestaltmate said, rubbing his head nervously and with a smile on his face.
"Man, I wish I had someone who appreciated me like you two each other," Beachcomber muttered.
"Hey, relax, we all appreciate you," Drift comforted him, putting an arm around Beachcomber's shoulders. "You just need to talk to us more instead of taking a blade to yourself."
"Thanks for reminding me," Beachcomber grumbled.
"Seriously, do talk to us more, alright?" he asked him again.
"Well, might as well. Just as long it isn't just the two of us."
"Fine with me."
"Another trial. Another two gone. Like clockwork," Bludgeon muttered in the lunchroom as him and Nautilator were having a midnight snack, as well as the Combaticons, Rewind, and Hound.
"Yeah. 22 people left. More than likely several more to go," Nautilator darkly wondered on it as they took a seat at the lunchroom table.
"How did we let this happen?" Rewind muttered.
"I'm looking at two of the instigators," Hound mentioned, glaring at Onslaught and Blast Off.
"Oh, don't give me that look," Blast Off said, giving his best glare back at him. Onslaught likewise glared at him, with Rewind joining in at that, while Swindle just looked down at the table silently.
"Is this necessary?" Bludgeon asked. "The murders have been solved. There is no more need for this foolishness."
"These two were planning a murder!" Hound shouted.
"Wasn't Rewind an accomplice in a murder?" Nautilator asked, causing both of them to flinch. "He was totally willing to let us all die just to let Chromedome live."
"Exactly. What we did was no worse than what Rewind did," Blast Off reprimanded him. "Blaming us is just hypocritical on your part."
"And unlike Chromedome, he would be able to get Swindle out of here with him," Onslaught added.
"Look, you two cretins. Counterpunch's death was self-defense. Of course Rewind would defend him, unlike you two's cold-blooded attempt of murdering each other," Hound defended Rewind's actions.
"Does intention change anything?" Onslaught questioned. "He still tried to get everyone killed."
"Yes, it does, you fraggers."
"I'm heading to my room," Swindle suddenly cut in, getting up and heading out, speaking the first words he said since Smokescreen explained why Blast Off would've killed Onslaught.
"Swindle, wait-" Onslaught began, getting up.
"I'm leaving by myself. Don't follow," he shut him down as he exited the room. Onslaught stared at where Swindle was before sitting down, unnerved.
"Swindle really took our plan as a personal betrayal," Onslaught muttered.
"Yes, he does," Blast Off agreed. "He probably wanted to give his input, maybe even stop our plans."
"It would've been for the best if you did talk to him," Hound agreed, "I recommend you do it tomorrow morning."
"Thanks," Blast Off muttered.
"No problem," Hound nodded. "I overreacted to your murder attempt. Condemning you while comforting Rewind is hypocritical, I must admit."
"It's no problem," Onslaught waved him off. "Since the motive is gone and will probably never be used again, I see no reason to plan another murder. The only way I'm getting my men out is if we takedown the mastermind."
"That's something I can get behind," Rewind agreed.
"Yes…," Bludgeon agreed. "I hope all of us are present when he dies."
"You can't be serious," Perceptor muttered as him and Wildrider stood before the entrance to the new area. The three rooms led to another room behind them leading to a wide door taking up almost an entire wall.
"Yeah, I'm serious. Me and you, exploring the great unknown of the new area together. It sounds so good, I can smell a potential sitcom," Wildrider told him.
"Yes, yes, whatever, why me?" Perceptor asked.
"I like you." Perceptor raised a metaphorical eyebrow at that. "That and Dead End insisted that he wanted to get wasted at the bar tonight, which I didn't feel like."
"You seem like the person who would enjoy that," Perceptor muttered.
"Damn right, I do, but I really wanted to explore the new area and I know that you can't resist the urge of discovery. You're a scientist after all," Wildrider explained to him.
"True. The sense of discovery is always a wonderful feeling," Perceptor agreed, turning his gaze backed to the door. "Alright, shall you have the honors or I?" he asked.
"You're the professional."
"It's just a click of a button."
"And I want to see you push the button like an absolute professional scientist of awesome," Wildrider told him with a bright smile. Perceptor glared at it him, wondering if he was being serious, before reminding himself that this was Wildrider he was talking with and realized that he was probably being serious.
"Fine, I'll push it," he said, heading to the console on the right side.
"Like a professional," Wildrider reminded him.
"Like a professional," Perceptor mimicked as he reached the console. He decided to play along with Wildrider delusions of professionalism and held up his pointer finger to Wildrider, who watched with glee. "Now, in order to push a button like a professional, it's best to use a pointer finger as it as the most natural for something like this. If you don't have five fingers, improvise," he said, before shifting it over the button to push it in, holding it at a angle and a arm behind his back, like a professional. "Look at how I have it set up. Directly above it with a angle to properly exert as much force as possible to the button. Once you have it set up correctly," he brought it down onto the button, allowing the doors to begin opening, "push in, like a professional." Wildrider gazed at him, amazed.
"That was so… so… awesome!" he cheered earnestly, clapping nonstop. "You were truly made to push buttons."
"Yes, I was. Thank you," he said as he glanced at the opening doors. "Now then, I believe it's time to discover what this new area is."
"You know he cared about you," Smokescreen told Hoist as they were seated in Hoist's room at the table.
"Yes, I know…," Hoist said, priming the Newton's cradle by pulling a ball back and letting go, allowing the momentum to push the ball at the back up and back down, letting the previous ball back. "He did well with this," he muttered, letting it clack as they talk.
"Yeah… listen, just try to remember all the good parts about Mirage. I'm sure he would appreciate that instead of, you know," the gambler said, leaving the implication in the air.
"I know he would… but it isn't that easy," he said. "He was planning this murder before the motive was even laid out, as you heard him say on the recording. I can't help but wonder how much was him actually trying to be my friend or him establishing an alibi."
"Well," Smokescreen muttered, thinking it through, "I don't know he was the rest of the way, but I know that, in the end, in his final moments, he wanted to be your friend. If he didn't I don't think he would built that for you," he pointed out the Newton's Cradle.
"Yes… there is that," Hoist murmured. "He built this, as a sign of friendship. A friendship that we never got to properly have."
"Exactly. I'm sure, if he was still alive, you two would've been best friends," Smokescreen comforted him.
"Yes. Could've been," Hoist said dejectly.
*Knock Knock*
"I'll get it," Hoist said, getting up and head for the door. He walked on over slowly and opened the door to see Knock Out standing there. "Yes?"
"Hey, remember what we agreed upon in the casino?" Knock Out asked, cracking his knuckles. Hoist went blank thinking it though before his face turned to shock. "You remember that?" he asked.
"Yep," Knock Out replied before pulling his arm back and sending it forward.
*Crunch*
"Gah!" Hoist yelled, knocked back to the floor and holding his face.
"Hoist!" Smokescreen yelled, leaping up to help him.
"That's for making me have to walk around asymmetrical for two days, you sparkless monster," Knock Out said before pulling shut the door loudly.
"Are you alright?" Smokescreen asked, trying to look him over.
"Yeah," Hoist replied, moving his hand away to show a small trickle of energon sliding down his head from a dent on the left temple.
"Damn, for a pansy, he can punch pretty hard," Smokescreen said, amused by it.
"He is surprisingly strong," Hoist agreed, getting up.
*Knock Knock*
"Oh, son of a bitch," Smokescreen muttered, heading over to the door. "I'm punching him in the face."
"Wait, hold it. That won't solve anything," Hoist told him, trying to stop him.
"Don't care," he said, opening the door quickly and punching straight, only to hit air.
"What the?" he asked, looking around.
"Can you watch it, aft?" a voiced said behind him and turned to see Skywarp standing behind Hoist, who looked scared by his sudden entrance.
"What the hell, Skywarp!" Hoist asked, jumping back from him.
"What, I just came to talk," he said, shrugging his shoulders before walking over to take a seat. The two Autobots looked at each other before Smokescreen closed the door.
"Okay, why are you here?" Hoist asked as the two of them took a seat at the table.
"I just needed someone to talk too. Surprisingly, I appear to be the one taking Nightbeat's betrayal the hardest," Skywarp informed them, Laserbeak perched quietly on his shoulder.
"You are?" Smokescreen asked.
"Damn right, he proved my innocence in the first trial. He had my respect for that, so to have it reveal that he murdered someone kinda shocks me," he explained to them, depressed. "'I can't believe he did that and all that bullshit reasoning. I would've punched him in the face if he wasn't already dead."
"Yeah… I didn't know him much," Hoist muttered.
"Neither did I and I was with him for some time in that room when we were suspected of being the serial killer," he told them.
"Yeah, well, I found this note by him in front of my door," he said, showing off a datapad. "It's basically his last will and testimony."
"It is?" Hoist asked.
"Yeah. It wasn't much. Just a few things about his past that he requested that I kept to myself and some apologies for things ending as they did," Skywarp told them.
"Wow, sounds like he expected you to survive the trial," Smokescreen noticed.
"Yeah, anyway, that isn't the important part. He left an excerpt from a poem behind for some reason for me. Wasn't much. Just a single line from it," Skywarp told them.
"What was it?" Hoist asked.
"'I Feel That Pale Death Creeping In,'" he recited to them.
"What the… that's weird from him," Hoist muttered.
"I know, so I went to the archives just a few minutes ago and typed it in. Guys, it was used as a suicide pledge by students of the academy," he told them.
"Wait, what the fuck?" Smokescreen asked, him and Hoist having a shock look on their face.
"That's not the strangest part. The articles about it had a lot of things redacted, so I wasn't able to get a clear picture of why or who did it aside from the fact that it was students who did it. But, the article did mentioned the author of the poem," he told them.
"Who was it?" Hoist asked.
"Well, it was Dead End," he told them. "Apparently, they took him as a major inspiration and drank acid."
"Are you shitting me?" Smokescreen asked. "This happened during our missing memories?"
"Yeah… it did," Skywarp muttered.
"Damn…," Hoist muttered, cupping his head in his hands. "How many?"
"247," Skywarp told them.
"What?" Smokescreen asked, shocked. "Did you read that right? There's no way we had that many students."
"That's what it said in all the articles," Skywarp told them.
"Damn… so Dead End inspired a mass suicide?" Smokescreen asked.
"Well, that's all that was confirmed. The articles stated that Dead End said he had no relation to the students, but some sources he met up with them. Could be true. Could be false," he told them.
"Shit…," Smokescreen groaned.
"I swear, if he talked them into that mass suicide, I'll kill him myself," Hoist growled, clenching his hand into a fist.
"Yeah… this didn't sit well with me either," Skywarp muttered. "A bit too familiar."
"Okay, so how are we going to use this information?" Smokescreen asked.
"The suicide was likely a symptom of something worse that allowed these game to happened," Hoist muttered.
"Makes sense. Regardless of Dead End's contribution, something had to have happened in order to cause a mass suicide. The question is what?" Smokescreen asked, rubbing his head.
"The only way we'll find that out is through more research," Hoist told them. "We'll have to tell everybody about this tomorrow, including Dead End."
"Especially Dead End," Smokescreen agreed.
"Well, I'm going to turn in for the night," Skywarp told them, getting up. "I'll be in my room if you need anything."
"Thanks for the info. I think I'll follow you out," Smokescreen told him, getting up as well.
"See you two later," Hoist waved them goodbye.
"Bye, Hoist, and…," he paused before he closed the door, "don't blame yourself too much, okay?" He closed the door and Hoist looked at where was before turning his attention back to the Newton's table, still clacking along.
"Don't worry. I won't."