Chapter 5: Leave Hope on the Operating Table

(Ab)normal Days

Day 15

"This is… strange," Perceptor murmured as him and Wildrider looked up at the night sky. Luna-1 and Luna-2 was in full view and the stars were out. The area they were in was a cybergarden of some sort, except for the center, which appeared to be a racetrack of some sort with a bunch of elevated benches for the audience.

"Does this mean… we made it?!" Wildrider shouted.

"No… it wouldn't be that easy," Perceptor as he looked around and noticed a light running through the ground. "Let's follow this," he ordered as he followed the line, Wildrider right behind him. The two keep moving until they reached what looked like a metal fence connecting the building they exited to the other building that was still locked. On the fence was a box of some sort that the lights led to. The two waked towards the box and opened it, showing off a timer with 4:30 A.M. on it, a dial on it, and a black button.

"Oh, what does this do?" Wildrider asked and immediately turned the dial, much to Perceptor's surprised, as well as the timer moving.

"What are you doing you-" he stopped as him and Wildrider was covered by light and both of them to look up to see the Sun in the air.

"Uh… did I break the sky?" Wildrider asked, confused. "I didn't mean too!"

"It would appear so... although it isn't natural. It's all artificial," he figured out.

"Artificial? How the frag does that work?" Wildrider asked, weirded out.

"The sky is made up of nothing but computer screens. Nothing about it is real," he explained.

"So… we're in a dome made up of computer screens," Wildrider started to realize.

Correct," Perceptor murmured.

"Oh… that's awesome!" he shouted in approval as he went back to messing with the dial, shifting it between day and night, much to Perceptor consternation.

"Wildrider, quit it," Perceptor ordered, annoyed.

"Why, it's fun! Look. Day." Shift to daytime. "Night." Shift to nighttime. "Day." Shift to daytime. "Nig-"

"Stop!" Perceptor yelled, causing Wildrider to stop at dusk. Wildrider glanced at his clenched fists and seething glare and backed off. Pleased, Preceptor walked on over and examined the box, noting two things were caring about: the dial Wildrider was using and the black button. Intrigued by what the button did, Perceptor pressed the button and the sky shifted back to a night sky with an automatic voice telling him it was set back to real time, the timer reflected that by being 4:31 A.M. "Hmm… interesting."

"Alright, so, that changes the sky in this area, right?" Wildrider asked.

"You would be correct, with the dial for custom settings and the button to turn it back to the exact time right now," Perceptor told him.

"Cool… never heard of stuff like this before," Wildrider noted.

"Before the war started, there was about three of these in existence due to the fact that they are quite expensive, but they were all smaller than this one and they are currently destroyed, from what I heard," Perceptor informed him. "They were call a Virtual Outdoor Facility."

"Oh," the manic said, looking at the sky. "How much would this cost?"

"I don't know exactly. I was never good at prices. Just calculating numbers. You could possibly ask Swindle about it if you're truly interested," Perceptor recommended.

"I might…," Wildrider murmured as he looked around the area. "Want to investigate the race track?"

"Sure, couldn't hurt," Perceptor agreed and the two walked through the cybergarden to the racetrack. The two closely inspected the area. There was the racetrack and spectator seats, with a structure at one end that was a single room that had supports making it one story higher. The racetrack was a regular oval one with grates at the center of one stretch of road and black and white tiles at another, signifying the starting line.

"Huh, looks pretty professional," Wildrider murmured. "We could organize races where I can smoke everyone!"

"We could… but that wouldn't be a favorable way of using our time," Perceptor shot him down.

"Aw… but it would be fun," he complained.

"Life or death situation Wildrider. Another time," he continued to resist.

"Ugh… fine!" he spat, raising his arm in anger and turning away from him. "I'm revoking your friend privilege."

"I don't remember having that," he muttered.

"It's a privilege. You're not supposed to noticed," he angrily shot back.

"Woah, hey, look. No need to get angry," he tried to calm him down, but Wildrider continued to ignore him. Perceptor sighed at having to deal with such a child before speaking again. "Alright, look, if nothing happens in the next few days, I'll try and organize a race." Wildrider perked up and turned his head to look at him.

"You're serious?" he questioned.

"Ughhhhh… yes, although I know I'm going to regret," he said with the sagging of his shoulders.

"Yes!" Wildrider shouted, turning back and giving him a bear hug, knocking the wind out of him.

"Augh! Stop before you break my spinal strut, you overactive cretin!" Perceptor shouted in agony.

"But I love you!"

"Stooooooop!"

Dead End entered the lunchroom, grabbed a cube of energon, and took a seat at his usual position. Typical, he was the first one up. This was all too familiar. Wildrider not joining him, however, was. He must've been up really late last night. He relaxed in his seat and thought things through. With Nightbeat gone, trials and investigations were bound to run less smoothly, but they proved they could do it without him. His death will probably be nothing serious in the long run, and Mirage equally so, even if he liked his taste in poetry and literature. Shame he had to go get himself killed.

He heard the door opened and turned to see Knock Out walked in, looking especially immaculate today, and his finish shining. "Hello, less beautiful," he said, grabbing a cube and taking a seat.

"Great to see you're your usual self," he muttered, drinking his cube of energon.

"I know. I'm glad to be symmetrical," Knock Out agreed, looking himself over. "So glad."

"Hmm-mmm," Dead End mummed, looking away from him and decided to ignore him. Obviously, he was too happy at being fashionable over anything else. The two waited in mutually agreed silence. Dead End thinking and Knock Out self-admiring. They waited for several minutes until another two enter, this being the normal pair of Bludgeon and Nautilator.

"Hey," Nautilator greeted for the two of them as they got their cubes and took a seat. "How you two doing?"

"Fantastic," Knock Out told them while Dead End only gave a nod.

"Good," Nautilator nodded, looking at Knock Out, while Bludgeon glared at the two of them.

"Death is still with us," Bludgeon growled.

"It's always with us," Dead End brushed him off without even looking at him. "From the day you were created, death is with you until the day you die."

"Hmph… than let me rephrase it. We are still in peril," Bludgeon told him.

"Better," he nodded. "Now, why should I care?"

"Nihilist. I forgot," Bludgeon murmured, glaring at him. "Why do I bother talking survival with you?"

"I'm smart," Dead End muttered. "That's why."

"Not as smart as me," Knock Out bragged, admiring his hands. "Brains and beauty are the two most important aspect one can have and I excel at both."

"Humility is also important," Bludgeon growled at him.

"I speak the facts," he told him.

"Well, you are a doctor… and pretty hot," Nautilator agreed, staring at him, which earned a disapproving glare from Bludgeon.

"My case has been made," Knock Out laughed.

"Erk… you are annoying," Bludgeon growled, giving him the evil optic.

"Annoyingly right," he continued to brag.

"OK, its official, if I kill someone, it's going to be you," he threatened.

"I may have to join you," Dead End agreed, sounding like he was dying inside at a faster rate.

"Come on… don't be like that," Knock Out said half-heartily, not bothering to look at them.

"Knock Out, what you doing this time to annoy everyone," Ratchet murmured, walking in, getting a cube, and sitting down next to Knock Out.

"They're jealous of my good looks and my smarts," Knock Out told him, actually looking at him.

"So… business as usual," Ratchet muttered, leaning forward.

"I guess," he shrugged.

"How can you tolerate him?" Bludgeon questioned. "I find him intolerable."

"You get used to it," Ratchet told them. "Trust me. Just give it time."

"Ah, it's nice to see someone appreciate me for what I am," Knock Out thanked him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I knew there was something good about you, despite all those dents and scratches and ugly scruff marks litter your frame," he said, looking him over. "Seriously, let me give you a day with me and I'll have you looking absolutely fabulous… or at least look clean."

"Yeah… I'm good," Ratchet answered. "I don't think I can handle you for a whole day."

"Hmph, I'm not surprised. No one can handle excellence for a whole day," he 'sympathized' with the less beautiful, taking his arm off him.

"Ugh," a voiced moaned and a whole slew of people entered at once, this being the other bar patrons last night. They got a cube and took a seat, each of them holding their heads in sympathy over their hangovers, except for Mixmaster, Scavenger, and Beachcomber, who looked indifferent.

"Wow, most of you look like slag," Nautilator commented as they entered.

"Don't talk, please," Drift moaned in pain.

"Somebody drank too much last night," Knock Out chuckled.

"Bunch of whiners," Mixmaster scoffed. "Me, Scavenger, and Beachcomber aren't even suffering a little bit."

"I can see why you're not affected, along with Beachcomber, as he probably drank so much after's Shockwave tortured, he probably needs twice the amount. I don't get why Scavenger isn't affected by it," Dead End muttered.

"Hook thought it was fun to test his anesthetics out on me," Scavenger told him. "Thought it would be a good way to make sure they were good. I got hazy a lot."

"I think that's abuse," Ratchet murmured, looking at him closely. "I need to check you out later to make sure there isn't any long term side effects."

"I'm fine. I've had this done for over a couple of millions of years and I'm fine," Scavenger tried to calm him down.

"Couple millions of years?!" Ratchet asked.

"No loud noises. Please," Blurr moaned.

"Agreed," Bumblebee chimed in, moaning in pain.

"Shut up!" Ratchet growled menacingly at them, causing the two of them to shrivel away. "Now, tell me Scavenger, have you experience any bad side effects from it?"

"Uh… I don't know," Scavenger asked. "I never looked that up."

"Do you… have memory problems?" Ratchet asked him.

"Um… yeah. Some. I can't remember certain days, certain weeks, the entire we were in the academy, but that's just a side effect of getting our memory wiped, right?" Scavenger asked.

"It's also a side effect of using too much anesthesia," Ratchet told him with a grimace. "The dulling of pain receptors could lead to the memory banks and dull your ability to recall them."

"Huh… I didn't know that," he muttered, scratching his head. "Hook should've knew that."

"I know he does. That's why when I visit him, I'll be giving him a personal beatdown," Ratchet growled.

"That isn't necessary! That'll do more harm than good," Scavenger told him, the raised voice causing the hangovers a more pounding headache.

"Please, be quiet," Jazz ordered. "I'm the highest ranking person here."

"Silence! Chain of command is worthless here," Bludgeon growled at him.

"Scavenger, if you're looking for a reason why you haven't become a doctor yet, Hook is the reason why. I bet he purposely kept you drugged up so you stay his assistant and under his thumb," Ratchet explained to him.

"Woah, hey!" Knock Out said, getting in between them. "Now, let's not make any claims without any evidence. All we know is that Hook tested his anesthesia on him."

"Enough for me," he scoffed. "Hook was always a scheming, controlling bastard and still is if he's outside the academy alive."

"Well… I won't lie, that's true, but I don't think he's that much of an aft," Knock Out defended him.

"Eh, he might've been," Mixmaster said. "Wouldn't surprise me if that was the reason he did it."

"But, Hook likes me… right?" Scavenger asked, turning to Mixmaster. "You all like me, right."

"I like you. Don't know about anyone else," he shrugged.

"That's… not the answer I was looking for," he mumbled, tipping his head down.

"Apologies," he said, patting his back.

"Good to see our gestalt isn't the only one having problems," Blast Off said as him and Onslaught entered the lunchroom, grabbed a cube, and took a seat next to each other.

"Oh, hey. The gestalt that keeps complicating things," Nautilator commented.

"Yes, yes, air your grievances out," he told them.

"Blast Off, don't be confrontational," Onslaught ordered, placing a hand on his arm.

"Where's the small one that almost murdered someone?" Knock Out asked.

"In his room," he answered harshly, turning to glare at him. "You might want to learn how to phrase questions better."

"Meh."

"Oh! Oh! I'm sensing violence!" Wildrider shouted as he rushed in and presented himself to everyone with Perceptor trailing behind him. "Don't start without me!"

"Please, don't rush to violence. Someone died last night," Perceptor told him drily, getting two cubes and taking a seat. "Take a seat with me Wildrider and calm down."

"…!" Wildrider grunted before sagging his shoulders and taking a seat next to him, near Dead End.

"My, not many people can tame Wildrider," Dead End noticed, actually sounding surprised.

"I've had some time last night during our exploration of the new area," Perceptor told him.

"Ah, the new area. What is it like?" Dead End asked. "Is it some place intellectual?"

"It's a Virtual Outdoor Facility," Perceptor told him.

"A what?" Nautilator asked, confused.

"It's made to simulate being outside. It's a dome shape building with screens on them to stimulate being outside," Perceptor told everyone.

"Okay… so what is it for?" Dead End asked, confused.

"Most probably, to help botanist, astrologist, and geologists with their studies," Perceptor answered.

"Also, a racetrack," Wildrider answered.

"Woah, woah, wait. Racetrack?" Blurr asked, standing up. "There's a racetrack?"

"What happen to your hangover?" Beachcomber asked.

"Not important. Now what is this about a racetrack?" he repeated, leaning in with his hands on the table.

"There's, a, uh, racetrack in there," Perceptor answered.

"Right, bye," he said, rushing out of the room.

"Wait!" Perceptor said, standing up. "We don't leave until everyone gets here." It was too late as Blurr had already exited the room. Perceptor gave a sigh and sat back down and turned to Wildrider with a glare. "That's why I didn't mentioned the racetrack."

"Sorry," he scoffed. "People usually don't jump for racetracks."

"Why was Blurr running out like a manic," Hound asked as he and Rewind entered the room and grabbed a cube.

"There's a racetrack in the next building along with an artificial forest," Perceptor told him.

"Later," Hound said, stepping out, leaving Rewind awkwardly standing by himself, looking at Hound leaving and at everyone else before exiting out of the room, following Hound.

"What the hell…," Perceptor muttered, placing a hand on his head. "Alright, how many more are going to leave?"

"I have to," Bumblebee told them, getting up and holding a hand to his mouth as he ran out. "I'm going to purge!" He left, leaving the others behind. Not after that, Jazz and Drift followed behind him.

"Damn… they got a serious hangover," Knock Out said.

"I'll create a tonic for them later," Mixmaster said. "Now, who's missing that hasn't arrive, but hasn't left?"

"Swindle, but I'm sure he isn't going to come out for a while, as well as Skywarp, Hoist, and Smokescreen," Onslaught answered.

"You asked for us?" Smokescreen said as him, Hoist, and Skywarp, the three getting energon and taking a seat together. The three looked around.

"Okay, I doubt we beat everybody here," Skywarp told them.

"That's because Blurr, Hound, and Rewind went to check the new area, Bumblebee, Jazz, and Drift are purging his insides out thanks to his hangover, and Swindle is just staying away from here," Ratchet told them.

"Okay… odd," Hoist muttered before addressing everybody. "We wanted to present this information with everyone around at the same time, but that's not happening."

"Information? What information?" Ratchet asked.

"Mass suicide," Skywarp told them.

"Mass suicide?" Ratchet asked, startled, and everyone's attention turned to them.

"Yes. At this academy," Hoist told them, looking at Skywarp. "We agreed to do this slowly."

"Might as well just go ahead and tell them about it, just like the fact that the whole catalyst of it was Dead End?"

"Skywarp!?

"I did what?" Dead End asked.

"Where did you learn the word catalyst?" Smokescreen asked.

"Not important, although that's a good mystery as well. What was that about me being a catalyst to a mass suicide?" Dead End asked again, leaning in, his voice more threatening now.

"Look, during the time that we are missing, your poem was used as a suicide pledge for a mass suicide carried off by 247 students," he told him.

"That's unlikely. This school is well-funded, but this place wasn't made to hold that many students," Dead End told them.

"That doesn't explain all the reports on the suicide that we found," Smokescreen told him.

"That I found," Skywarp interrupted.

"Whatever, look, a mass suicide happened and you are involved, whether directly or indirectly," Smokescreen told him.

"They're a bit inconsistent. Some say that you're the one who led them and others said that you were just used as justification for doing so," Hoist told them.

"What? That's insane… what poem of mine was used?" Dead End asked, confused.

"I don't know, but one of the lines used in it was 'I feel that pale death creeping in.' Know which one that was?" Skywarp asked.

"Wait, come again?" Dead End asked. "Was that really it?"

"Yeah, it was,"

"That… strange. That's not strictly my poem. It was a collaboration project between me and Sky-Byte fifty years ago. I wrote it and he spoke it out loud. He's a fantastic beat poet," he told them.

"What was it called?" Hoist asked.

"The line that you used. It was repeated throughout the poem."

"Okay," he nodded. "We can track that down and read it easily."

"Yeah, I don't think so. It's was a private event. No videos and I didn't hand an official transcript out to anyone. I made sure no one had any writing utensils and the one I gave to Sky-Byte I took back, broke it, and threw it in a smelter," Dead End explained to them.

"Threw it in a smelter? Isn't that taking it a bit too far?" Beachcomber asked.

"No. It was reasonable. It was to keep things a secret," he told them. "Whoever was the one used that as a pledge had to be a big fan of mine."

"Or it was you yourself," Hoist interjected, which caused him to glare at him.

"A suicide pact means committing suicide. I'm still here, talking down to idiots like you, so I didn't take that pledge," he talked down at him, causing Hoist to flinch. "Simple logic should be enough to determine that."

"Okay… my apologies to you," Hoist nodded. "My bad."

"You damn well better be. I'm a cynic of the highest order, not a cult leader," he ranted to him.

"Okay, okay," Smokescreen butted in. "We apologize. It's all Hoist's fault-"

"My fault!?"

"-But, we are all allies here," Smokescreen said.

"I would say enemies in here," Dead End told him.

"Alright. Let's compromise and say we're frenemies," Smokescreen told him.

"I like frenemies," Nautilator agreed, which earned a look of ire from Dead End before he looked back at Smokescreen.

"…Okay, fine. Everyone is frenemies in this hellish establishment," he acknowledged.

"That'll work," Knock Out agreed, along with everyone else with a simple half-hearted nod of the head.

"Now, this mass suicide. Anything else to tell us, like who was behind it or how they did it?" Dead End asked.

"Uh, no. A lot of it was redacted," Skywarp told him.

"Where did you learn redacted?" Dead End asked in which Skywarp gave a shrug, before he continued. "Alright, maybe you can find more information on it, or figure out why that information was redacted. In fact, why would that information be redacted in the first place?"

"We'll talk to Jazz about that after he's done purging," Ratchet told him. "Secret stuff is his field of expertise."

"Sounds good," Knock Out nodded. "I don't trust spies about as far as I can throw them, but he should be able to help with that."

"Alright. Is there anything else to talk about?" Onslaught asked the room. No one said anything. "Alright, let's go check the new area out."