"Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" Blurr yelled as he crossed the checkered line and transformed back to his bipedal form. "Time?" he questioned Knock Out, who was sitting on a large rectangular crate, looking annoyed while staring at a stopwatch.

"33.32 seconds," he muttered, tossing it to him before running up and transformed to his alt. form and began revving his engine. The night sky was dark, reflecting night, while the racetrack was lit up by floodlights. Blurr took a seat at the crate and began counting down.

"3! 2! 1! Go!" he shouted and Knock Out sped off, ready to beat his score. Blurr relaxed on the box as he saw Smokescreen, Hound, and Rewind coming his way.

"Hey, mind if we see what's going on?" Smokescreen asked him.

"Sure, come on over," Blurr motioned them over and the three ran on over before taking a seat next to him on the crate.

"So, what's up?" Rewind asked, standing at the end of the crate and looking over to Knock Out driving around.

"Oh, yeah. We haven't told you guys yet, haven't we?" Blurr questioned.

"Told us what?" Hound asked him, next to Rewind.

"Me and Knock Out are going to be holding a race here two days from now at noon to see who's the fastest and we would like everyone to come along, watch, and have fun," Blurr told them.

"Oh, really? Sounds like a good time," Rewind chimed in from behind Hound.

"Hmm, I think that will work perfectly," Smokescreen assented with a smile and a shake of the head, sitting between Hound and Blurr.

"Great, and…," he trailed off as Knock Out came close to the finished line and waited until he crossed it before he spoke again as Knock Out came back in bipedal form and posed in victory. "34.45 seconds," Blurr grinned.

"What?!" Knock Out shouted, stomping on over and looking at the clock. "Dammit! How come I can't keep up!?"

"Professional racer here. You're not overcoming me," he said as he got up. "Now, as I've been explaining to these guys, we're having a race two days from now."

"Yes, of which I'll find some way to beat you," he agreed.

"Right, well, one lap would be too boring, so you got to keep consistent. We'll be doing 100 laps on the day of the race, so let's do 10 laps," Blurr said as he handed him the stopwatch to the right hand and got into position.

"Right," he muttered as he took a seat and prepared to get started. Blurr was revving and ready to go. "3! 2! 1! GO!" he yelled and Blurr rushed off at high speeds. Knock Out hunched over, holding his head with his free hand and balancing it on his knees, before giving a sigh.

"You're okay?" Rewind asked him, leaning in as well.

"Yeah, I'm just… how is he so fast!?" Knock Out wondered out loud. "It's abnormal for anyone to be this fast."

"Well, he is the Ultimate Racer for a reason," Hound reminded him. "He must've done a lot of things to himself or use some modifications."

"I have too! Granted, most of it was for aesthetics, but they assure me that it was top of the line," he complained.

"Well, maybe he's just got the goods," Smokescreen said with a shrug. "Not everyone is created equal."

"Asshole has a point," Hound acknowledged.

"I thought we were over the whole plant thing," the gambler muttered.

"Oh, I forgave you, but I don't forget," he told him, which earned a nod from Smokescreen.

"Good code of conduct. A like that," he agreed as Blurr completed his first lap.

"Damn, that was a good first lap," Knock Out muttered.

"Like I said, he's got the goods," Smokescreen told him. "Everyone wants the underdog to win, but in most cases, that isn't the case. Longshots are like that for a reason. It's smart to bet on the purebred."

"So what? I should be able to reach his levels," Knock Out complained.

"Let me go ahead and tell you, there's something in the energon over at Ibex," he informed him. "Gamblers have a saying in racing: 'Don't bet against Ibex.' The fact that you're even close to him is pretty impressive, for someone who isn't from there."

"Yeah, I mean, challenging Blurr to a race is a doom proposition, but you're handling yourself pretty well," Hound added to the choir.

"Maybe, but when I'm this close, I feel like I can overtake him," Knock Out told them as Blurr came around again to begin his third lap.

"Well, good look with that, but it's not going to happen," Smokescreen told him honestly.

"Thanks for the sign of support," Knock Out sardonically cheered, glaring at him.

"Right, sorry. So, how long you two going to be practicing?" Smokescreen asked him.

"Probably 'til around midnight," he answered.

"A bit late to be out," Rewind muttered.

"Maybe, but we got energy to expend," Knock Out answered. "Drank a bunch of energon before we got started driving laps."

"Good to hear. I imagine you'll be drinking a lot for a while," Smokescreen nodded as Blurr finished the fourth lap.

"What's the time?" Knock Out asked them.

"Um, you got it," Rewind told him.

"No, not the lap time, the time of the day," Knock Out specified, annoyed.

"Oh, uh, sorry!" Rewind yelled as he pulled his electroID out and took a look at it. "Uh, it's almost nine."

"Great. Won't don't you all head on out and spread the word. Would love a good audience," Knock Out told them.

"Right, sure. We'll probably be heading in soon to recharge," Hound told him.

"Sounds like a good call. Good night," he told them as Blurr passed by and the three of them ran off.

"Looking good," Mixmaster muttered as he was busy cooking up a batch of syk and circuit boosters for Dead End and Nautilator to use, who were both leaning onto the counter for support. Scavenger was busy being his assistant while Perceptor and Wildrider were both off to the side, watching the procedure with the two of them murmuring to each other. In front of him was two glass containers full of liquid, one purple to represent syk and the other yellow circuit boosters. "Just let them rest for about 10 minutes and they should be good for consumption, although I would recommend against it."

"Now whyyyyyy is that?" Nautilator asked, staring intensely at the glasses of liquid.

"Don't worry. It's all *hic* fine," Dead End told him with an unfocused wave of the hand. "I've done it before. It's no problem."

"Dead End, don't lie like that," Wildrider said seriously, unamused. "We had to bring you to Hook for major organ failure one time."

"You said he caught a disease!" Scavenger yelled at him.

"We lied."

"Of course you did. Should've known," Mixmaster murmured. "So, here it is. Do with it what you want. I don't care."

"Are you sureeeee?" Dead End slurred out. "Sure you don't want to join us for some fun?"

"I'm sure," he said as he pushed it towards him. "Go crazy. I usually do when I get some of the syk." The drunk cynic glance at him before taking the container full of syk.

"Come on, Naughty. Let's go to someplace private," he told the Seacon.

"Righto," he agreed as he grabbed the container full of circuit booster and headed on out with him, leaving the four behind.

"So, Mixmaster, what will the syk do to their system?" Perceptor questioned him, turning to him.

"A variety of things, especially with the circuit booster added to the mix. Audial hallucinations and heighten feeling of elation always occurs, but as Wildrider inferred, more serious and dangerous things can occur, such as massive organ failure. Depends on the quality of the items used and the skilled of the cooker to decide how many positive qualities are in the syk. Thing is, syk is hard to cook right and those adverse side effects come really easily."

"So, you need a place with quality supplies and a really good chemist. Sounds like we got both," the ultimate scientist muttered.

"Yeah, so I wouldn't worry too much about their health," he told them as he began cleaning where he worked. "Once I'm done cleaning up, I'm turning in for the night with a bottle of high-grade."

"Oh, sounds like a good idea," Wildrider agreed, cheering up. "Don't mind getting a little tipsy tonight. You should come join me, Percy. Tonight is a good time to get wasted."

"I'll consider it. Just make sure if I do come, bring a lot of it," he told him.

"Oh, yeah. You got it! Come stop by my pad if you want to have fun tonight," he said as he ran on out, leaving the three behind.

"You're really planning on drinking with him?" Scavenger asked him.

"I might. Could be good to just spend a night not doing any calculations," he told them.

"Provided you can trust Wildrider," Mixmaster muttered as he put the equipment up. "I wouldn't trust him as far as Beachcomber can throw him."

"Fair point, but I think he genuinely likes me," Perceptor told them. "At the very least, he finds me interesting."

"After what he did to Counterpunch's corpse, I wouldn't be alone with him," Scavenger echoed his gestaltmate.

"Well then, let's hope Wildrider isn't stupid," Perceptor said as he headed on out, leaving the Constructicons behind. With that, Scavenger went over to Mixmaster and helped finished off cleaning the area. After a few minutes, the place was completely clean and the two were ready to head out.

"Thanks for helping me out," Mixmaster told him with a pat on his back.

"Oh, uh, you're welcome," Scavenger said, scratching his neck cables. "So, you're turning in for the night."

"Yeah. Got some high-grade. Maybe add a couple of things to it to make me recharge faster. Would be good."

"Alright."

"And what about you?" he asked him.

"I don't know. Might just grab me a glass of energon and recharge for the night," Scavenger told him. "Best way to stay safe for the night."

"Yes. Safety is most important," Mixmaster agreed. "With people's personal items on the line, it'll probably be best not to stay up for the night."

"Got to stay safe no matter what," his gestaltmate agreed. "Can't trust anyone here, except each other."

"That's right. No one except each other. Good night, Scavenger," he said as he exited the room. Scavenger stood around for a minute before he headed out as well.

"What the frag?" Onslaught muttered as him and Hoist entered the fourth-floor lounge to see Blast Off and Bumblebee playing together on the piano pretty damn good and Jazz and Beachcomber enjoying it together, relaxing back in their chairs and bopping their heads to the music. When he said that, Jazz turned over to them and smiled.

"Hey, come on over," he said as he waved them over. Onslaught and Hoist looked at each other shrugged before heading on over to the duo to listen to the performance. After a minute, the duo finished their performance and the four of them gave there applause as they came on back to the group and took a seat.

"Not bad, Blast Off," Onslaught complimented his gestaltmate with a pat on the shoulder.

"Couldn't have done it without Bumblebee," Blast Off replied and Bumblebee looked a bit embarrassed at that before he replied.

"Thanks. Need to learn how to use those white keys, but so far, I'm doing good," the scout said.

"Right," the sniper said before turning to Onslaught. "So what did you do?"

"Well, we've been busy breaking into the dead mole suspect's room and looking for anything to prove they are or are not the mole," Hoist told them.

"Wait seriously? Do you have any respect for the dead?" Beachcomber asked them, disgusted.

"Yeah, we do. We just think that figuring out whether or not we should still suspect the living would be better," he replied, uncaring. "Of course, we didn't really find anything out on them, so whatever."

"Nothing at all?" Jazz questioned, interested.

"We found some datapads with notes on it about their time there, but none of them are a smoking gun. So, we have to still suspect them and the living suspects for the mole," Onslaught explained to them.

"Are you sure there's nothing in there to indicate any of them are the mole?" Jazz questioned him.

"Well, not from what we read. Nothing seemed to indicate that they were working with Monobear. Nightbeat's datapad was just him being a dick in his opinion on everyone and his opinion on who the mastermind is, Chromedome's was about his time here, and Mirage didn't have anything barring poetry and novels," Hoist told them.

"Hmm, you think Nightbeat trying to figure out who the mastermind is could discredit him as the mole?" Bumblebee asked him.

"Maybe, but we have no proof that the mole know who the mastermind is either. The two of them may have different agendas," Jazz argued against it.

"Fair point," the scout agreed. "We have no idea what the relationship between the two is like."

"It really is a shame we can't find anything on this traitor," Onslaught muttered, crossing his arms. "Anyone who would willingly decide to work with this bear deserve no sympathy from me." Everyone in their could tell he was like that due to the traitor being indirectly responsible for the death of Brawl and Vortex, as well as everyone else.

"Well, how else can we find any information on the mole?" Beachcomber asked the group. "I mean, there has to be something for us to do to find information on them."

"Just keep your optics up and watch over Ratchet, Smokescreen, and Perceptor carefully," Blast Off warned them. "Until we dispel who the mole is, we'll have to be careful about whatever they do."

"You're berth is so comfortable," Skywarp groaned as him and Ratchet were piled up on the medic's berth, laying right next to each other. "When I lived in Vos before the war, I was lucky to even have a berth."

"My sympathy," Ratchet said, feeling sorry for him. "Growing up like that must've given you a tough shell. Perfect for war."

"Oh, you bet," he saw with a drunken smile. "Honestly, joining the Decepticons was the best thing that happened to me. Actually gave me a place to stay and a steady amount of energon to use."

"Plus, a trine to go to," Ratchet added.

"That too. Oh, Starscream and Thundercracker are such pains in the aft, but I love them," Skywarp admitted to him. "So many bad things to say about them, but I couldn't imagine a life without them." He repositioned himself slightly to be more comfortable. Wings can sometime be difficult to manage. "I hope they're alright."

"I can't promise that, but Starscream is too much of a schemer not to come of with something to keep him alive and Thundercracker is pretty bright. I'm sure, that whatever is going on outside, they'll be fine," he attempted to comfort him.

"I hope so. So many people have died in such a short amount of time. Probably so many more have died. I'm hoping for the best, but I'm preparing for the worst," Skywarp told him.

"Always a good way to live by. Be realistic about probabilities," Ratchet approved. "Only question is, how much worst can it get?"

"Guess we'll find out soon…." Skywarp trailed off as he sipped int recharge with Ratchet following behind him.

*Ding* *Dong*

"This is an announcement. It is now 10 PM. Please rest peacefully." The voice of Monobear rang out through the building.

"Don't care," Drift muttered as he and Bludgeon down a shot of high-grade and slammed the shot glass to the table.

"Shot five completed," the bartender said as he deftly poured more high-grade in each of their glasses. The two swordsmech decided to engage in a drinking competition to soothe their competitive spirit. "I wonder how long it will take before one of you falls."

"Be prepared to wait quite a while," Bludgeon told him.

"Hmm, if you insist. Take another shot," it told them and they did so, handling it easily. "Hmm, I hope you two can handle it better than the geologist. He can handle it for quite a while."

"Yeah, poor guy," Drift muttered. "He's been through a lot. He really needs to drink his sorrow away."

"How bad is his drinking problem?" Bldgeon questioned him.

"I remember, on the day Scavenger got assaulted, he was busy drinking with Smokescreen. He just left when I got their and Beachcomber was drunk off his mind. He even remembered when I was one of you."

"Oh, did he? Why does he remember you?" Bludgeon questioned him.

"Well…," he muttered as the bartender poured the seventh shot for them and put it in front of them, "Shockwave needed a guinea pig for his experiments, so I went and got him one." The two of them took their shots.

"Let me guess. The experimented was Beachcomber," he figured out.

"Yeah," he replied guiltily. "I swear, whenever I see him, I can't help feeling guilty for forcing him to endure all of what that mad scientist did to him."

"Humph, the past is in the past. You can't change it, so you have to find a way to deal with it, like I have with Jhaxius," Bludgeon told him.

"True. No use complaining about it. Just wish I can find some way of making Beachcomber better," Drift muttered.

"You're asking the wrong individual about your problems," he told him bluntly.

"I know. Your ability to care about anyone is remarkably low," he remarked.

"I'm not good at emotional connections," Bludgeon admitted.

"Well, good on you for admitting it," he said as the bartender prepared shot number eight.

"Truth is important for me. I don't take lies very well," he told him.

"I can get down with that," Drift agreed as the eighth shot was placed in front of them. "Now, let's see if you can take high-energon very well."

Swindle emerged from his room at the dead of night. He had kept himself in his room the whole time and haven't left sense. He had no idea why Monobear decided not to let him attend the motive, but he was fine with that. He didn't want to talk with anyone, his gestalt most of all. He didn't trust anyone here and he might as well just stay in his room. Problem was, he was almost out and he needed to get some more energon. He went down the stairs as stealthily as he can, not wanting to get anyone's attention. At this time, it was likely that no one was up, but it was better safe than sorry. He arrived to the lunchroom and enter the dimly lit room. It was hard to see anything in here, but that didn't matter, as he memorized the route and quickly transverse the room to the storage door and opened it to the cubes of energon. He gave a small grin to himself as he approached it. A quick and clean pick-up.

*Clang*

"Guah!" Swindle grunted as he collapsed forward and impacted the ground, his head aching. Something hit him in the head and he couldn't recuperate fast enough as he felt something pressing against his back and his head, preventing him from getting up. Almost immediately, he felt something pierce his neck cable, like a needle, and he felt something entering his energonstream. It didn't take long before he started feeling hazy and he blacked out.