AN: Just in time before the New Year begins.
"Surprise to see you here first," Onslaught said to Blast Off as he entered the lunchroom after waking up 7 on the dot. Blast Off was sitting at the table with his elbows on it and his hands clasped together. Blast Off looked at him with a raised eyebrow before looking down at his cube of energon. Onslaught was a bristled by Blast Off barely acknowledging him before getting a cube and sitting across from Blast Off, trying to get him to talk. "So, how are you doing?" Blast Off glanced up before taking a drink from his cube and speaking up.
"Do you feel it?" Blast Off asked, confusing him.
"Feel what?" he questioned, bewildered.
"I don't know, something tugging at my spark. Something strange, yet familiar," he spilled out. Onslaught was confused by it before he tried to concentrate on it. Indeed, he felt something off. Something pulling at his spark. It felt like… it felt like…
"It feels like what happen when Vortex and Brawl died, except severally weaker," Onslaught pointed out.
"Yes… exactly. Now why is that?" Blast Off questioned.
"Could Swindle be, you know… dead?" he questioned in fear.
"No, I imagine we would have a much harsher reaction to it if that was what happen. It has to be something else, but what is it?" Blast Off wondered to himself.
"Oh, hey, how you two doing?" Bumblebee asked them as he walked in, grabbed a cube, and took a seat with them next to Blast Off.
"At unease. We don't know why, but something is wrong," Onslaught told him.
"Like what? Is it a gestalt thing?" he wondered.
"It appears to be so," Blast Off nodded. "It's a very strange feeling."
"So… what is it? Does it involve Swindle?" he inquired.
"More than likely, although we don't know what."
"You think he might be-"
"We would've felt it by now if he was dead," Onslaught anticipated his question with an answer.
"Oh, good. Guess you'll talk to him at the motive if all goes well, correct?" Bumblebee questioned, wanting to make sure if the plan was still in place.
"Hopefully. I fear for his sanity if he stays in their for too long," he told him.
"Even though locking himself in there is the safest place if you want to avoid murder," Blast Off muttered.
"True, but Swindle is far too extroverted to stay in their forever. He'll have to talk to someone sooner or later," Onslaught countered him.
"That's also true," he nodded.
"So… I' guessing he considers you two complete assholes for trying to kill everyone here, including me," Bumblebee said, adding emphasize to the last word, eliciting a sigh from the both of them.
"Yes. Apparently, Brawl and Vortex's death have brought a major change to his attitude and I don't like it," Blast Off confirmed. "The old Swindle wouldn't exactly be happy with our decision but he could respect. Now, he's so team-oriented and actually wants to get everyone out, not just us."
"Shouldn't that be a good thing? Positive character development is something people should strive for," he asked.
"Forgive him. Blast Off isn't one for change," Onslaught told him.
"I must admit, my unwillingness to change is a very negative trait of mine, but can you blame me. I was a senator," he explained.
"Instability brought the senate down," Onslaught stated.
"I don't know much about the senate. War-born," Bumblebee shrugged.
"War-born? How truly sad," Blast Off muttered. "To be created in turmoil. Not knowing what peace is."
"Yeah. Reconstruction was the first time I ever experience peace. It was kinda nice while it lasted, even though I knew it wasn't going to last long," he told them, sounding morose.
"How surprisingly cynical," Onslaught murmured.
"What do you expect?"
"You always seem more cheerful then that."
"If war is the only thing you know, you expect the worse, which is unfortunately what happened," he replied scratching the back of his head. "I wish I could find peace for once."
"We all do, but life has a habit of screwing you over," Onslaught told him.
"Yeah, I know, but still, it would be nice. Frag, I was asked to come here because I'm a scout. In case you don't notice, that's a purely military thing. What use does a scout have outside of war?" Bumblebee questioned them. "A tactician and a sniper can get jobs for police forces and the like while the scout can do nothing." He laid his head down on the table, depressed. "Nothing at all." Onslaught and Blast Off looked at each other as they realize Bumblebee was young and he had a few self-esteem issues to work out. Just fantastic.
"Look, scout may be one of the more specific skill sets one may have, but that doesn't mean you're useless in a peaceful world," Onslaught began comforting him.
"Of course. You're just not thinking hard enough of someone of your capabilities to do in a peaceful world. Just think it over," Blast Off offered encouragement.
"Like what?" he asked.
"Well, scouts are good at exploring unknown territory. Maybe you could be a guide for some of the more wild places of Cybertron," Blast Off recommended.
"Hey, yeah, that would be brilliant. I know of a couple of Decepticons we employ as scouts who are working as guides right now. I'm sure you can find work there," Onslaught told him.
"You think?" Bumblebee asked, lifting his head up in interest.
"Yeah, sure, provided we find a way out of here in the first place. They're not exactly the same thing, but I'll sure it'll require minimal adaption on your part," Onslaught told him.
"Huh, that so," he perked up, excited.
"Of course. I'm sure someone of your caliber could do it. Certainly far better than me. Not a people person, per say.
"That's an understatement," Onslaught chuckled.
"Hmph," Blast Off fluttered. "I didn't need confirmation on that one."
"Right, of course you didn't," Bumblebee snickered, making him glare at him.
"Don't talk too much. You might force me to use my hand to silence you," Blast Off threaten in a light tone.
"Oh, come on, you are so antisocial," Bumblebee chuckled, making him glare at him more.
"Onslaught, breaking the Nonaggression Act," Blast Off announced.
"Understood, soldier," Onslaught nodded.
"Uh, what?" Bumblebee gasped as Blast Of wrapped his arm around his head, over his mouth, and pulled him toward him with the other arm around his shoulders, giving his arms limited movement.
"You know living with Brawl means I had ample amounts of time to learn a thing or two from him, don't you?" he asked as Bumblebee struggled, kicking his legs everywhere. "Relax, I just want you to talk less or at least about something besides me."
"Hmm!" Bumblebee yelled through his arms as he continued to struggle.
"Seriously, I can hold this position for a while until you calm down."
"Hmm!"
"7:30. You think we should head down now?" Ratchet asked Drift, looking at the time on the table with his electroID while the latter sitting at the bed.
"If you want. I just want to make sure you're okay. I don't want you to go out and face accusations of being a mole," Drift said, scratching his neck cords.
"Drift, I'm old and this wasn't the first mole investigation I've been in. There's always traitors and some investigators like Nightbeat would keep eyes on me to make sure I wouldn't divulge information to the enemy, like medical files. Those are meant to stay private," he responded to him.
"That seems… excessive," Drift murmured.
"Could never be too careful. Some people are good at faking at being your friend, at being on your side, until they inevitably stab you in a back. I learn that with Pharma, that complete and utter bastard," Ratchet cursed.
"I never met him. Frankly, pretty glad I never did," Drift murmured.
"He wasn't unpleasant to be around, but his betrayal was ever painful. I wanted him to take my place when I got too old and my joints rusted. Instead, Pharma's in jail, probably for life, and I'm still working without a successor. I've lived for so long, I know I will start to fall apart very soon. I just wish I can take a break, but I can't," he moaned, leaning against his table. Drift got up and hurried on over to him, attempting to place an arm around him only to be met with Ratchet pushing him off. "Don't, Drift. I'm fine. You think I haven't been able to compose myself in the years?" he chastised Drift, glaring at him.
"Sorry, Ratchet. It's just that, you didn't look okay. I figured-"
"Drift, please, if anyone needs help, it's you. I've gotten through and accepted all the bad things that happen to me, baring my unfortunate need to help people, but you… you've gotten through it but not accepted it," Ratchet told him.
"What, I mean, come on, not accepted it? What do you mean?" Drift asked, insulted.
"Do I really have to point it out? Even you should know what it is," Ratchet said, annoyed by his thick-headedness.
"Not really. I escape from the Decepticon, I got rid of that existence, found religion, I don't of anything else I need to do," Drift listed the things, not knowing what he was talking about. Ratchet gritted his teeth at his inability to understand himself before answering.
"Drift, I'm talking about your time as a Decepticon," Ratchet bluntly answered.
"Huh?" he gasped. "Look, I have exorcised that part of me-"
"No, you moron, you haven't," Ratchet growled. "You think you have, but I know you haven't. If you did, you wouldn't be so against it as you are. You are always against everything that a decepticon does, even when it's a good idea. If you had accepted it, you would be able to accept the positives and negatives of the group instead of completely disparaging it at every single step of the way," Ratchet tore his claim down, making him drop his draw in disbelief at Ratchet ripping him apart. Ratchet glared at him before softening and looking down at the table. "I'm sorry," he said simply. Drift kept looking at him before looking off to the bed and taking a seat back on the bed. He was wringing his hands together and was intaking rapidly.
"Ratchet, that's- that's wrong and you know it. The Decepticons are all horrible people. I know, I was one. They are all psychopaths and we can't trust any of them. I know! I was one!" Drift shouted at him, denying his explanations. Ratchet barely glance at him before he spoke again.
"Why must you adopt such a black and white view of the world?" Ratchet questioned him.
"Huh?"
"Your view of the world is focused on extremes, which is amazingly naïve. Haven't you figured out that, barring certain anomalies, the world is full of shades of gray or did you free fall into the fundamental side of your religion?" he questioned him.
"No, I speak from personal experience, Ratchet. You know what've I've been through. All the drugs I abused before the war that you treated me for to my borderline PTSD after serving with them, I say this because they're horrible people," Drift explained to him.
"And personal experience can make you extremely biased to the reality of the situation," Ratchet growled, starting to get ticked off.
"Or maybe you're too trusting of those two-timing, backstabbing-"
*Knock* *Knock*
The two went silent as someone knocked on the door and they both turned to it. The tension between the two of them was put on hold as Ratchet stood up and walked over to the door to open it, revealing Skywarp waiting there with Laserbeak on his right shoulder, lightly petting it on the head with his left hand.
"Hey, everyone's up surprisingly early this morning and we're just waiting on you two to come down? Is everything alright?" he asked them, looking around. He took note of Ratchet's clenched fist in anger and Drift wringing his hand together. "Arguing?"
"You could say that," Ratchet murmured, turning over to Drift. "Come on. Best not waste anyone's time further." Drift gave a curt nod before standing up and walking over to them.
"Uh, do you think you want someone subbing in for Drift to chaperone you?" Skywarp asked him.
"No, we can take a bit of disagreement," Ratchet refused him.
"Are you offering?" Drift asked him.
"Drift?" Ratchet gasped, surprised.
"Uh… sure?" Skywarp responded.
"Was that a question?" Drift wondered.
"Uh, no. It wasn't suppose to sound like one. That was a yes. I have nothing to do, so me and Laserbeak could take your spot for the day," Skywarp shrugged.
"Right, have fun with a psychopath, Ratchet," Drift announced as he walked off, leaving them behind.
"What's up with him?" Skywarp asked the medic with raised eyebrow.
"An over-simplistic view of the world," Ratchet muttered in contempt. "Let's go. I'll see if I can patch things up with him later."
"What was going on with Ratchet and Drift at breakfast this morning and why is Skywarp now Ratchet's companion?" Smokescreen asked as he and Hoist were hanging out at the outdoor café at the mall with a glass of energon between them.
"No idea. A bit strange for them," Hoist muttered. "Bet they had an argument."
"Right, of course," he nodded. "Makes some sense. What about, I wonder."
"Why are you so interested? It's not like you to take interest in other people's affairs," Hoist wondered.
"Well, I don't want a murder here and you never know what can cause people to murder. Those two may have sown the seeds for one inadvertently," Smokescreen told him. "The less amount of murders we have to solve, the better."
"Well, that makes sense," he acknowledge as he saw a couple walking together. "Hey Hound and Rewind! How you doing?" he asked them and the two looked at them before walking on over to them.
"Just looking through the stores for anything we want. The coins from the last murder we solve was a pretty good amount," Hound told them as they took a seat together. "What about you two."
"Discussing the recent rift between Drift and Ratchet," Smokescreen told them. "Kind of strange."
"Yeah… do you think that Drift found out he's the mole?" Rewind asked them.
"Rewind, hushed. I prefer it if the mole was either Nightbeat or Mirage," he told them.
"I don't care who it is as long as it proves that I'm not the mole, which I'm not. Don't get any funny ideas," he warned Rewind and Hound.
"Just as long it proves Chromedome wasn't the mole and everyone had nothing to worry about from him," Rewind agreed.
"As long as you were alive, I doubt he would work for Monobear, so I don't think anybody worries about Chromedome being the mole," Smokescreen confirmed.
"That's good to hear. Still leaves questions about who the mole is," Rewind muttered. "This whole conflict between Drift and Ratchet is weird."
"Yeah, I have no idea what to make of it either," Hoist agreed.
"Why are we assuming that it's about him being the mole. It could be about something mundane, like their faiths. Ratchet is a lot more grounded in reality and facts than Drift. Maybe that ticked him off," Hound recommended.
"That's true. Those two have a very stark difference in regards to the universe. I mean, we all believe in Primus. Enough records proved he insist. But how he existed is very different," he told them.
"Been so long since he existed, no one could say for sure. Still, I find it pointless to argue about him. He's dead. Whether he forms our core or just plain old dead, it doesn't matter," Smokescreen shrugged.
"Good point, but people will argue about anything," Rewind shrugged.
"That's also true. Meh. Guess it's impossible. Let's just relax and try to get those two to make up," Smokescreen recommended.
"So, two days from now, at noon, we will race for my title of Ultimate Racer," Blurr said to Knock Out at the center of the racetrack. Blurr and Knock Out was sitting together on a rather large metal box the size of an average Cybertronian laying horizontally that was certainly not their the other day, but they didn't mind. Gave them a nice place to sit and their dirty their frames on the ground.
"Agreed, of which, I assure you, I will win," Knock Out said in a presuming matter.
"Number one racer in Cybertron before the war started. You have your work cut out for you," Blurr chuckled.
"I believe we will see an uprising" Knock Out chuckled. "I'll make sure everyone knows. It'll be a fun diversion."
"Yeah. These people need to take their mind off murder and I believe we'll pull that out when I beat you in a landslide," Blurr took his turn to brag.
"Hah, we'll see when you're busy looking at my rear," Knock Out shot back.
"Now, now, my rear is-"
*Ding* *Dong*
"Eh?" Blurr wondered as the speaker came on. Before long, Monobear's voice came out.
"Attention, attention, teachers. It's time for the next motive. In order to receive it, come together at the garbage disposal room NOW!" he yelled, hurting their audials, leaving them momentarily incapacitated before they realized what he said.
"Garbage disposal room? Why the frag does he want us to meet there?" Knock Out wondered.
"Don't know. I don't like it. Better go see what it is," Blurr said as the two of them walked off.
Everyone converged in the garbage disposal room. It was basement level, requiring a door on the first floor to get to. Good thing too, because the room was huge. It was populated by several furnaces and incinerators to dispose of any garbage that they created. The biggest one was at the back, which actually used a conveyor belt to dispose of the trash into a huge one. Said conveyor belt was blocked for a curtain for some reason. Everyone was there, ready for the motive. Well, all except one.
"Where's Swindle?" Onslaught asked Blast Off as they stood around the area.
"I don't know. He knows if we don't show up, Monobear will force him to come or worst yet, just go ahead and kill him," Blast Off murmured, afraid. Speaking of the spawn of Unicron, Monobear came out of nowhere (how does he do that) and introduced himself.
"Hello, everyone! How you doing?" he asked them.
"Get on with it," Perceptor said, sharing the thoughts of most of the people there.
"Alright, possible mole suspect," he agreed, digging a barb at him, which great annoyed him. "As you all wonder, why are we all in this magnificent place? Why am I taking so long? Why is that big fraggin' curtain over there?"
"He said get on with it!" Wildrider yelled, looking like he was finally annoyed by his antics.
"Well, as you know, this place is where we dispose of wasteful objects. Trash, bad energon, corpses. All of those completely useless. Of course, another thing are your personal objects," he said, giving a wicked smile and it started to don on people what exactly he was planning. "Behold, the items scheduled for the incinerators if a murder doesn't happen in three days." Monobear grabbed a hold of the curtains and pulled it back, revealing objects behind a glass pane. Before anyone acted, two people shouted the same thing in unison.
"My sword!" Bludgeon and Drift yelled as they ran up to the pane of glass tried to break it, resulting in them bouncing off it without a crack. Indeed, swords were among the items. One being a group of swords, two katanas and a great sword, belonging to Drift, while the other was a simple katana with minor description embellish on it in an old Cybertronian language, probably Primal Vernacular. The other objects ranged from many different items, from jewelry to tools and most weirdest, a plushy. Before long, people were at realizing that the other items was an extremely personal items as well and suddenly, most of them didn't act so calm and were instead giving nervous twitches, knowing that the most personal item they had was getting ready to burn in a inferno. Only two people were nervous for an entirely different reason.
"Hey, Monobear. Where's Swindle?" Onslaught questioned, which confused him before he answered.
"Eh, I decided not to bother with him. You can tell him yourself when you find him," Monobear scoffed before walking off. That shouldn't have worried the two of them. In most cases, it would just mean that Swindle didn't come. But this was Monobear, a Grade-A slagger who delights himself in seeing people suffer in despair. He wouldn't do this unless he could cause more despair.
Where the frag was Swindle?