"Are they fragging kidding me?!" Drift ranted as he walked back and forth in his room's kitchen with Ratchet sitting at a table, watching him with a grimace on his face. "I mean, how could anybody ever suspect you of being the mole?"
"Because of Monobear listing me as a possible suspect. What else?" Ratchet sneered.
"That isn't a very good reason. We need solid, verifiable evidence that you're a mole," he continued to rant.
"Like a list that is pretty accurate at describing everyone's secret am I right?" the medic asked.
"Hey, you can't trust those, right?" Drift asked him, looking at him and resting his arms on the counter.
"You're telling me that he got your secret wrong?" Ratchet questioned him, leaving him surprised before answering.
"No, he didn't. But it's ridiculous to think that you specifically can be a mole. I mean, heh heh heh, it's so damn stupid," Drift chuckled.
"Someone on that list is a mole. It's not me, but it has to be one of the others," he told him. "Have no idea which it is, though. It's confusing which it is. If this was before the last trial, I would've hedge my bets on Smokescreen, but he picked up the slack on the fourth trial. Now, I'm unsure of who it could actually be."
"Look, Smokescreen may have save us, but I'm sure it was just out of self-preservation. I'm sure Monobear would just execute him if he someone else succeeds at a murder. He did it to save himself and get acclaim from everyone for saving their lives," the swordsman said, thinking it through. "It has to be him that's the mole. He's the most Decepticon like, so it's obvious."
"We need more than what their personal morals are like to figure out if they're the mole. We need solid motivations and evidence of him being a mole," Ratchet told him.
"No we don't. Smokescreen's only friend when he entered was Swindle, who I'm sure he would backstab at a moment's hesitation, and he appears to be getting something going with Hoist, although I'm sure that's just so he doesn't come across as a completely selfish gambling addict," Drift continued to smear Smokescreen's reputation.
"Once again, got any evidence?" he questioned him.
"Of course not, but come on? You really think Chromedome or Nightbeat did it? Or Mirage? Even Perceptor? No, it has to be him," he continued to push it on him.
"Drift, no one wanted to think Chromedome was capable of killing Counterpunch, but that still happened," he pointed out, making Drift flinched. "It would be very easy to pin it all on Smokescreen, but we can't simply do that. We have to find actual evidence and follow it."
"I know, but your good name is being ruined right now by this damn thing. You saw the looks some of them gave you. They were afraid of you! They don't trust you!" Drift ranted at him.
"I am capable of using my optics, Drift," Ratchet chastised. "I'm not worried about it. Once we find the evidence we need, they'll stop. Just have faith in them."
"You expect to me to have faith in people who could murder me at any second. Yeah, right," Drift scoffed. "These people are so untrustworthy that I can't even trust my fellow Autobots won't stab me in the back."
"You've never had that feeling before?" Ratchet asked, shocked. "I'm a life-long Autobot, but I be lying if I say that I could trust every single one of them. Some of the Autobots have sketchy backgrounds, Smokescreen being one of them."
"They're still better than the Decepticons," Drift muttered with disdain.
"Oh my Primus, I've never heard anyone badmouth the Decepticons more than you," Ratchet said, getting up. "I get it, you were one of them. You had your fair share of war crimes under your belt, like a lot of them, but that doesn't mean they're all completely irredeemable. They've proven that recently with Reconstruction."
"And what of the others that we put in the prisons?" he pointed out.
"They're irredeemable psychopaths. What do you expect?"
"That doesn't explain why Wildrider is walking around."
"Unfortunately, that was because of a deal we made. He was allow to walk around, but he had to be heavily supervised," Ratchet told him.
"Oh, seriously? You're kidding me? That's bullshit," Drift bemoaned, shaking his head.
"Not everything's perfect, although he appeared to have some sort of epiphany while we were here, if Monobear is to be trusted," he reminded him. "Guess even he was capable of change before Monobear ruined it."
"Yeah, maybe… but probably not," Drift scoffed.
"Maybe…."
"Say," Drift said as he walked on over and took a seat net to Ratchet, "what do you think it was like, the two of us teaching these students to succeed in the future?"
Ratchet frown and thought about it. "I have no idea. Judging by the news clippings, we did pretty good, but there's evidence that things were far from perfect here in the inner workings. It could go either way," he answered in a depressed tone. "I think it might be best if we never know."
"Maybe, but I want to know. I need to know if we made a difference, for better or for worse," Drift gave his opinion.
"Some things are better not known."
"One more look around the archives. Great," Smokescreen muttered as him and Hoist went to work at the corner together and began looking through the computer banks with the search engine. "I swear, this thing is so big, it's impossible to find specifically one fragging thing."
"It is quite ginormous," Hoist agreed before giving a sigh. "Mirage would be much better at this. He was good at espionage."
"Well, we can't get his help right now, as much as we want to," Smokescreen said, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
"I'm fine. Trust me. I'm not that emotional," Hoist chided, brushing his hand off. "It just takes me a day to process it."
"Alright, alright, sorry. I never saw you act so emotional before," Smokescreen said.
"I try not to get attached to anyone. I just don't want to be alone. Doesn't mean I have to get attach to people," he told him.
"Huh, I like that. Part of how I work," Smokescreen agreed.
"Alright… say, you think we could just hang out for a little bit? You know, get to know each other?" Hoist asked him.
"Ha ha, no," he bluntly replied.
"What? Why?" he asked him. "Is it because afraid you're of me dying?"
"Among a few others," Smokescreen told him. "Nothing personal."
"Right, I understand," Hoist grumbled, disappointed.
"Hey, don't be like that. We can still be acquaintances," Smokescreen nudged him with his elbow as he looked back at the screen.
"I have too many of those," Hoist complained. "I need to make some actual friends."
"I feel you, but you might want to wait until we actual get out of here. Too much of a chance of people graphically dying," he warned with a smile.
"You don't have to sound so excited," he said, a bit disturbed.
"What? Got a problem with me accurately describing the situation?" he asked, turning to look at him.
"I just figure you would have more respect for the dead and the situation at hand," Hoist muttered.
"I'm sorry, several million years of war have left me a bit apathetic to people dying," he sarcastically apologized.
"Point taken," he reluctantly agreed.
"Good of you to recognize that," Smokescreen nodded as he looked at a specific article. "Ah, now look at that." Hoist peeked over to look at an article titled 'Hope's Peak Academy Second Year Goes Great.'
"Huh, we actually made it past the second year?" Hoist asked in disbelief.
"Looks like it. Not bad," Smokescreen chuckled as he glanced at the article.
"I wonder how it lasted before everything went to scrap," Hoist muttered.
"More than two, but probably less than five," Smokescreen guessed.
"Yeah, makes sense," he agreed, nodding along as he typed something into the search bar. They were quiet for a couple of minutes before Smokescreen spoke up again.
"Huh, wait a minute? What the frag?" he gasped, looking at it closely.
"What's wrong?" Hoist asked him.
"According to this thing, there's sixty teachers in the school," Smokescreen told him.
"What?!" Hoist yelled as he looked at the computer with him to see him tell the truth. "How the frag is that possible?"
"Maybe they hired more as time went on," Smokescreen guessed.
"I guess so," he nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense, but if that's true, where are they?"
"Now that is a question, isn't it?" he asked as he analyzed the story more closely as Hoist went back to looking at his screen. "The damn thing isn't naming any names. I'm going to have to search other articles for them. Got to be one about new teachers."
"Great, get on it while I look for something else," Hoist told him as he went to work searching through his database. After a few minutes, Smokescreen spoke up again. "Hey, got a couple of names."
"Who?" Hoist asked, looking at the screen.
"Crosshairs, Ultimate Paratrooper; Ambulon, Ultimate Ward Care Director; and Rung, Ultimate Therapist," Smokescreen told him.
"Huh, only three. Can't find any more?" Hoist asked him.
"Nah, the article only lists them as new recruits to the facility," he told him. "Said they were the three newest teachers after the first anniversary with more in the coming days."
"Newest, huh?" he wondered, thinking it through. "Guess they gradually added new teachers to the school over time."
"Guess that makes sense. Best to add them a few at a time instead of all at once," Smokescreen agreed.
"Right… I found something as well. Want to look at it?" Hoist asked him, giving him a hopeful look.
"Sure thing. What did you find?" he asked as he peaked on over to the computer screen to see what it was. His curious look gave way to confusion as he looked at a picture of him and Hoist together, smiling at a camera. Smokescreen's smile was very cocky with his arm around neck while Hoist giving a nervous one, awkwardly giving a wave with his hand. "What the frag is this?"
"It's a picture of us I found, being friends," Hoist old him, sounding a bit hurt. "We became friends here. I don't know how, but we did, so can't we be more than acquaintances?" Smokescreen looked back up at him before looking back at the picture.
"Right… no," Smokescreen bluntly answered before turning back to the screen.
"What, but-"
"Look, I know what you're doing. With Mirage dead, you're latching onto whatever replacement you can find. You're setting yourself up for a cycle of mourning and I want no part in that. Get yourself a different person to replace Mirage," Smokescreen shot him down. Hoist looked at him, shocked, before turning back to his screen. Smokescreen glared at him before turning back to the computer. Smokescreen looked through the computer again for a little bit before speaking again. "Sorry. I don't have friends. I have acquaintances, partners, and allies. It's nothing personal," he apologized.
"It's… it's okay. I'm okay. Nothing wrong with that," he said, his voice breaking slightly.
"Hey, don't be like that, you got it? You're making me feel bad, you asshole," he chided him.
"Sorry, just that… you're right. I shouldn't just get close to whoever I can, but I don't want to be alone," Hoist told him. Smokescreen sighed in annoyance before he wrapped his arm around him and spoke again.
"Look, fine, we'll hang out some. Swap some stories or whatever, just please stop looking depressed, okay," he requested, trying to calm him down.
"You will?" he asked, looking at him.
"Yeah, I will, but just so you know, this is going to end badly," he warned.
"I guessing it will too, but since it's possible we will all die, it's best to make it happen instead of wondering what could've happen when we die," Hoist agreed.
"Alright, good to here. We're in dangerous times and I'm a dangerous person, so keep your optics on."
"Another search through the archives all done. I wonder what Hoist and Smokescreen found?" Mixmaster asked Perceptor as they walked back up to the fourth floor with Scavenger and Beachcomber walking behind them.
"It's unknown, but it's certainly interesting," Perceptor acknowledged as they walked down the hall together. "Always a good thing when people find information about our current situation."
"You think it'll actually help us out in the long run?" Beachcomber asked skeptically.
"I don't know. Probably not, but I'm hoping for the best," he answered.
"I really hope so. I want to get out of here. I really do," Scavenger mumbled, rubbing his hands together nervously.
"Calm down, Scavenger. We'll be out, soon enough. I promise you," Mixmaster soothed him.
"I hope you're right."
"If we do, we need to get out before he gets that fifth motive working. Once that's on, it's only a matter of time before someone starts getting all stabby again," Beachcomber reminded them.
"True. I wonder what he has cooking up," Mixmaster muttered.
"A lot, especially since he tried throwing me under the bus with his mole claims," Perceptor muttered in disgust. "Can't believe he would make claims that I'm the mole."
"Well, on a surface level, it does make sense, kind of," Beachcomber muttered,
"Come again?" Perceptor asked, turning to him.
"Well, these whole thing is basically a lethal psychology experiment. I mean, it sounds like something a scientist would do, especially one as varied as you," he explained.
"Hmm, that does make sense," he acknowledged, turning back to a door and opening it, letting them inside a lab. "Of course, unlike a few other scientists I know of, I have a set of standards that would prevent me from doing it. Besides, even if what you said was true, why would I even be involve myself in the games themselves? That would involve me endangering my life."
"Yeah, but hands-on experience could be invaluable to your research. You would know what it's like to be a part of the games. If you're the mole, you would know of the previous games and make notes. The last one you need is personal experience in the games themselves, the final segment of your thesis," he continued to explain the potential of Perceptor being the mole.
"It's disturbing how well you're thought this through," Perceptor said, uncomfortable about him.
"Dude, you're not the only scientist here, even if mine's more specific," Beachcomber reminded him.
"True. I often forget that with you myriad of complications," Perceptor acknowledged, leaning with his back to a table, looking around. Beachcomber sat on a stool, Mixmaster sat on the table, and Scavenger just walked around one of the tables. "You know, we're four of the smartest people on the IQ scale. Why don't we generate ideas on who the mole is, besides me, as Beachcomber has already given out a few reasons as for why I could be the mole," he requested of them.
"Uh, surely you're mistaken. I'm not that smart," Scavenger said.
"Quit undervaluing yourself Scavenger and offer idea. This could be a nice brainteaser," Mixmaster told him.
"Alright, uh, what about Nightbeat?" he asked them.
"What about him?" Perceptor asked. "He doesn't appear to have a strong motive."
"Well, what if he was testing himself?" Scavenger asked. "Maybe he wanted to see if he could solve murders here as well commit one."
"Hmm, not a bad suggestion," Perceptor acknowledge. "A lot like Beachcomber said about me."
"That leaves the question of why he murdered Mirage when he did. It was sudden and unexpected. He didn't plan it out," Mixmaster immediately pointed out flaws.
"But then how did he figure out the trap? It seems likely he was informed by someone," Scavenger said.
"Then why did he willingly die by it?"
"Maybe he was afraid of us figuring it out and decided to be the author of his own fate. Die by his own terms."
"Nightbeat is a walking contradiction in actions," Perceptor said, interrupting them. "We'll probably have to figure that out through notes he might've left behind, wherever they are."
"Well then, how about the person he killed, Mirage?" Beachcomber asked. "Guy was a pro at espionage. Makes sense that he would be the mole in our ranks. He was even planning a murder before the motive was even revealed."
"Then why did he get attached to Hoist?" Mixmaster questioned. "If he was the mole, he wouldn't get attach to anyone here."
"I don't know, but he sure seemed willing to let us all die to let Hoist live," he pointed out. "If he was the mole, he probably knew about the motive and would do that to get him out."
"Alright, fair point," Mixmaster acknowledged. "There's Chromedome."
"As long as Rewind is here, I don't see him being the mole," Beachcomber immediately answered.
"Plus he lacks a definitive motive," Perceptor said.
"So no to him, right?" Scavenger asked.
"We can't said no, but it's highly unlikely, even though he killed Counterpunch. Since we're at an impasse, let's talk about the living. About Smokescreen, I'm ultimately ambivalent on him," Perceptor said. "On the one hand, he's a lying cheat who probably has a few skeletons in his closet, but just like Nightbeat, he saved us in the last trial."
"I'm unsure of what to make of him either. He's could go either way," Beachcomber agreed. "Does anyone here think it could be Ratchet?"
"I highly doubt it," Perceptor gave his opinion. "One of the most loyal Autobots and he helps around with the cases."
"But couldn't everything he does be fulfilled by Knock Out?" Scavenger asked. "Why have him here when Knock Out could just do what he could."
"Probably because Ratchet's better," Mixmaster butted in. "Knock Out is good, but Ratchet is excellent."
"If that's true, then wouldn't it be better to just leave him out to have less reliable results?" he asked him.
"Maybe, or he wants a fair fight," Beachcomber chimed in.
"Possibly, so that leaves me, which you have already pointed out," Perceptor clarified.
"Okay, so, who's the most likely to be the mole?" Perceptor questioned them.
"Honestly… you are," Scavenger told him honestly, rubbing his hands nervously.
"Yeah, you're kinda fishy," Beachcober parroted.
"Agree. You or Mirage are my top picks," Mixmaster agreed. Perceptor glared at the three them, feeling betrayed, before nodding head.
"Fine. I'm the most likely wrong mole. You're completely wrong, but it's understandable. Nothing personal."
"I mean, he was kidding right," Wildrider said as he down a glass of high-grade before slamming it on the table. The two of them were relaxing at the bar in the mall. "I mean, why would I care about slagging brats and teach them how to bring 'hope' to the *hic* future. Completely stupid," he ranted as he leaned against his seat. Dead End sat in his chair calmly, letting him rant while reading a poem. "I mean *hic* did I really changed that much? Why?!"
"I swear, of all the things giving you a breakdown, it's that? That is completely asinine," Dead End chastised.
"Deady, you have to understand, this is me we're talking about. ME!" he yelled at him.
"Cease yelling, it's not nice," he continued to chastise him.
"Deady… I shouldn't feel like this," he slurred as he cuddle up in the chair. "I… need to sleep on it. Wake me up later…," he moaned as he went to recharge, much to Dead End's amusement. Yet, he was worried. Wildrider was acting relatively sane. With this news from Monobear, however, that might change. He would have to keep close watch on him.
"He seems unstable," he heard a voice said and turned to Skywarp sitting at the bar, a glass of energon in his hand and Laserbeak sipping some out of a bowl.
"He always is," Dead End replied dispassionately.
"I mean more so than usual," he clarified.
"That is quite true, I must admit," he said, getting up and taking seat next to them with Laserbeak in-between them. The bartender walked up to him.
"Want anything, sir? It's all on the house," he asked him.
"I'll take what he's having," he answered.
"Right away," he agreed, getting a glass under the table and putting it under the energon dispenser. He filled it up to the top before taking it over to him with spilling a drop. "Here you go, for you," he said, placing it in front of Dead End.
"Thank you. You're quite courteous," Dead End nodded as he grabbed it and took a gulp. "Hmm, quite nice," he said as he put it down.
"Thank you, sir," he nodded as he waited for them to require him again.
"So, Skywarp, what are you doing today?" Dead End asked as he turned to him.
"Just hanging out with Laserbeak," Skywarp said as he petted him. "Since this is the only day of rest we're probably going to get, I figure me and him take the day to relax and not worry about people killing us."
"Sensible," he nodded. "Relaxing is something one has to do in order to keep from going insane."
"Duh," Skywarp mocked as he took a drink from his glass. "I really need it, especially with all this talk of a mole and the serial killer. Things are getting crazy."
"True," Dead End agreed as he took another sip.
"Ah… I wonder what that next motive us," Skywarp questioned to himself.
"We'll find out soon enough. Just wait a little longer."
"Swindle didn't come for dinner," Onslaught muttered to Blast Off as they sat at the lunchroom table. The two of them were left behind except for the familiar pair of Rewind and Hound as well as Bludgeon and Nautilator and the only loner, Bumblebee.
"He'll probably come out in the middle of the night for supplies. Makes sense if he wants to avoid the two of you," Bludgeon told them.
"Noted," Blast Off muttered.
"You guys may want to wait out here for him. You know, wait here and confront him about it," Rewind recommended.
"No, he would probably overreact like he was in a bad deal," Blast Off answered.
"Well, knocking won't worked, as evidenced by Onslaught's dented gearbox," Bumblebee said.
"Thanks for reminding me," Onslaught grumbled. "Really needed a reminder."
"Well, then what can you do?" Rewind questioned him.
"You can try outlasting him, I guess. He can't stay in there forever," Nautilator recommended.
"He probably has some stockpiled up there. He can wait," Blast Off rebuked,
"Then… how about the motive? We all have to appear for that. You can meet him then," Hound recommended.
"That… could work," Blast Off agreed, thinking it through. "Yes, I do believe that will work marvelously."
"Alright, when the motive comes, we'll confront him," Onslaught nodded.
"Hmm, this place is beautiful at night," Knock Out said he was laying down on the roof of the two-story building overlooking the racetrack. He found a hatch on the second floor and climbed up on top of it. The fake sky was filled with stars as well as Luna-1 and Luna-2 over him.
"It is quite nice," Blurr said, sitting on the edge of the building, much to his annoyance. Blurr was out there as well and he was bugging him as they were exploring the building. "A good reminder of what the end lies in store for us."
"Hmm, it's almost as pretty as me," Knock Out complimented.
"Always about you… although that must be a pretty high compliment, coming from you," Blurr said.
"It is, very much so," he agreed. "It gives me hope."