"Ugh," Onslaught muttered as he got up from sleep. He looked at the time to see that it was 8 o'clock. He groaned as he realized that he was late. He was pacing around his room all night, thinking about Swindle and about what he found in the room. He was still worried about him and he was sure that something he found in the room pointed to who was or wasn't the mole. The question is what? With that slogging through his mind, he got up and headed on out. He trudged through the hall slowly, stretching his limbs as he did so and his neck cords as well. He must've slept in an uncomfortable way as well, which was just great. He have to work out the kinks while on the way to the cafeteria. He knew he was late, but he hoped they were still there. Well, every except Swindle was still there. Fragger was probably still in his room, never leaving until something… happens… Was Swindle's door cracked open?

Onslaught switched his gazed to the door and saw that it was cracked open. Intrigued, Onslaught went over to it and opened it to see Swindle's room, empty of him. He looked around the room to see a bunch of empty cubes and glasses strewn about the room. He must've been spending his days drinking away on energon or whatever he had hoarded in the room. The question is, where was he now? If he was lucky, he was in the lunchroom, so he hurried on out of the room and headed down the steps. He quickly arrived to lunchroom to see everyone there barring Knock Out, Blurr, Dead End, Nautilator, and most unfortunately, Swindle. The grouped looked at him, surprised at how sudden he entered. "Where's Swindle?" he questioned them.

"Swindle? I would guess he's still in his room," Perceptor answered him.

"He isn't. His door was cracked opened and he wasn't in there," Onslaught told him.

"Wait, really?" Smokescreen asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I figured he was out looking for more energon so I came here," Onslaught answered.

"Well then," Blast Off muttered, standing up, "let's go looking for him. I'm sure if we all pitch in, we'll find him in no time and get him adjusted to talking to us again."

"Yeah, I find it a bit odd that he would leave his door opened," Smokescreen agreed, getting up as well. "He's not right so far and we need to make sure he's safe."

"Don't think I've ever seen you so worried before," Hoist said to Smokescreen as he got up as well.

"What? He's my friend! I can't just let him continue to stay in isolation," he replied. "Now, come on guys. We need to make sure Swindle is alright." At his request, they all got up, ready to begin the search.

"Right. Let's divide up. 17 of us here so let's divide into two to a group except for one that will have three," Onslaught ordered.

"I wonder what Swindle is doing to get him out of the room?" Blast Off questioned Onslaught as they were done searching through the third floor lounge. "I highly doubt it was just to get more energon, as could've just get here and get out quickly. So he must be looking for something else."

"I wondered what. He must've been researching something while crammed in his room," Onslaught murmured as they walked to the next room. "Wondered what he could be researching."

"Knowing him, something financially related," the ex-senator muttered. "Maybe he found some of the finances of the academy."

"That would be interesting, but probably irrelevant," Onslaught muttered as he opened a door to an art room and began searching it. "What was going on at the cafeteria today?"

"Smokescreen would like us to meet up at twelve at the auditorium for something and Knock Out and Blurr are having a race tomorrow at noon and are warming up at the racetrack right now," Blast Off told him.

"They are? What's the point of that?" Onslaught questioned him.

"To build moral support," he answered. "You know what sports events are like. Bunch of people cheering on the person or group they support. Not my type of thing, but the common mech enjoys it."

"Hmm, never had much time for them," Onslaught muttered. "I think Swindle like to used them to set up gambling rings with Smokescreen."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"Yeah, me and Swindle totally set up a gambling ring," Smokescreen told Hoist as they searched through the fourth floor together and were currently in the lounge.

"Why am I not surprised?" Hoist murmured as he was peered at the backroom behind the bar.

"Yeah, we had a bunch set up in Ibex at the racing circuits and made a bunch of money through online betters. Pretty good time for us before the police caught wind of us and we had to close shop before they caught us. Had a few close calls there," he described it to Hoist.

"Sounds enthralling," Hoist dryly replied.

"Oh, it really was. We even had a little rat in our midst that Swindle took care of," he told him.

"Took care of? What do you mean?" Hoist asked, interested.

"Oh, well, I noticed one of our men was stealing money while simultaneously giving information to the police. So I told Swindle about him and, well, he took care of it," he replied. "His dead body was found the next day, his limbs broken by a pipe before it was used to crush his head to a pulp."

"Ouch. Grisly end for him," the repairer remarked. "Remind me not to get on his bad side."

"Yeah, little guy can be quite brutal if you try to screw him over. Be nice to him, he'll be nice to you, simple as that," he told him.

"Right, well, I don't see him around here, so he has to be someplace else," Hoist told him.

"Yeah… someone will have to get lucky and find him. It's only a matter of time. We can't just give up."

"I say we just give up," Scavenger whined to Mixmaster as they were searching the library. "If he was here, than we would've found him by now."

"How defeatist of you," Mixmaster murmured as they were busy looking around the first floor of the area. Indeed, due to how structure of the library, it was pretty easy to look around and no good place to hide.

"Look, this is a waste of time. Let's just head on back to our rooms or just head on out to some other place, to search for him," he suggested to him.

"Scavenger, we here anyway, why not look around, read a few datapads. You might learn something," he said as he approached the archives' panel and looks through it. "Huh? The archives are locked until a little before noon."

"Really?" Scavenger asked, coming over to look at it. "Who would use it that late?"

"I don't know. Maybe Swindle took use of it last night before going somewhere else," Mixmaster suggested. "Wouldn't surprise me if he did."

"I guess so. So, do you want to go somewhere else?" Scavenger asked.

"Nah, just continue on as it is. Read a datapad or two. We might find some information of use to us about the school or what's happening outside," he suggested to him.

"The outside," Scavenger hummed. "Do we even want to know? How about we just kill the mastermind and just stay in here. Let's not worry about what's going on outside and just stay here where it's safe."

"And leave the rest to suffer?" Mixmaster question, getting in his face. "Scavenger, now is not the time to think selfishly. The only way we're surviving this is through selflessness. We have to help as many people as we can in order to get a working society again."

"I don't know. Twenty-two sounds like a good enough society. A small village, but still a village," he shrugged. At that, Mixmaster couldn't help holding his head in disbelief before taking hold of Scavenger's shoulders as firmly as possible.

"Scavenger, I'm highly tempted to smack the scrap out of you, so quit saying stupid stuff, okay? Can you do that?" he asked him as harshly as possible.

"Uhhhhh, okay," Scavenger nodded clumsily.

"Great," he said before giving him a soft smack of the cheek. "Now, find a datapad, sit down, and shut up."

"Could you shut up about all the scientific scrap?" Wildrider told Perceptor as they were in the science based store together. "I love your voice, it is quite sexy with that whole science thing, but I have a limit for scientific mumbo-jumpo."

"Sorry, but Science is kind of my field of expertise WIldrider, so if you're upset, you may kindly frag off," Perceptor cursed.

"There's what I love!" Wildrider shouted in glee. "You, saying all those naughty words. I would like you to say more naughty words in the berth."

"Wildrider, don't be subtle. You're not good at it. You want to frag me, don't you?" he questioned him. At that, he gave a shake of the head yes. "Well, with an answer like that, no, never, please never want that again." At that, he looked crestfallen.

"Come on! You roomed with me last night. Why not turn it up a notch?" Wildrider said, placing a hand on his Perceptor's side in a suggestive matter.

"Okay, now I know there's more to this than you letting on," he said, wrenching his hand off of him. "Tell me, what's wrong with you besides the painfully obvious?"

"Wrong with me. Whatever could you mean?" he chortled, crossing his arms. "I just want to get down on you."

"My, how blunt. Too blunt for your usual self," Perceptor murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder firmly, making it slightly painful for him. "Now, quit your distraction tactics and tell me the truth, dammit!"

"Truth? What truth? That I'm insane?" Wildrider question with a sneered.

"Everyone has a bedrock to keep them holding on to reality with a thin grasp. Tell me, why are you trying to make me your bedrock unless… unless you're bedrock hasn't been acting accordingly," he whispered the last part, figuring out what was wrong with him. "Dead End. He's been pushing you away and you're trying to get me fill his position."

"What?" Wildrider asked, pushing his arm off. "What gives you the right to say something so stupid?"

"Right on the money," Perceptor murmured, realizing he was right. "Listen, Wildrider, I know Dead End has been acting off, but as you've stated, this is temporarily. You don't have make me his replacement," he attempted to soothe him, placing his arm on his shoulder again, this time as comfortably as possible. Wildrider was gritting his denta at him, annoyed at Perceptor

"It's more than that. He made fun of my weakness. When I needed him to not be a condescending fragger, he decided to be so anyway. He's never done that. We mock each other's personality, but not our fears. That's the unspoken rule among us," Wildrider told him and Perceptor was shocked by the amount of venom in his voice. He was genuinely hurt by Dead End mocking his weakness, whatever that was. It was downright surreal for him to see Wildrider actually like this.

"Wildrider, I'm… sorry for the pain you've felt that Dead End has caused you," he said, sounding as sincere as he could.

"Thanks. I… I just need to wait and talk to him later when he's feeling better. That's all," he murmured.

"Well, I'll take care of you until he's better," Perceptor told him.

"Thanks. I just don't want to find him yet."

"Is that Dead End and Nautilator?" Skywarp said as they were checking the forest in the Vitual Outdoor Area. The two of them were laying on the ground next to each other, two empty containers and several syringes strewn about them.

"Oh, it definitely is," Ratchet said as he hurried on over to check on them with Skywarp and Bumblebee by his side. Bumblebee felt like the odd one out of everyone and decided to interrupt the pairing of the Combaticons and work with Ratchet and Skywarp. The three of them went on over and Ratchet began examing the two. He quickly placed a finger at one of the wires on the wrist of Dead End and measured his rate of his spark pulsating before measuring Nautilator's. "Both of their pulse rates are low, especially Nautilator. Can you two give each of them a hard rub on the upper mouth?" The two did so and Nautilator gave no reaction to it while Dead End optics onlined and he stared dully at the sky.

"Hey, Dead End's online," Skywarp told him.

"Can he talk?"

"Let me check. Hey, Dead End, you stupid nihilist, can you talk?" he asked bluntly and Dead End didn't react except for slightly shifting his view at him briefly before looking back up at the sky. "He react, although only a small amount. Like he was reacting to my voice, but not what I was saying."

"Dammit. Looks like symptoms of overdosing on chems, particularly circuit boosters in conjunction with something else. Magdons, T-fritz, maybe even syk. They need help right now, so help me get them to the medical lab," he ordered them and they did so, Skywarp picking up Dead End and Bumblebee grabbing Nautilator and the medic quickly led them out of the area, and quickly into the Med-lab. The two overdosers were laid out on slabs and Ratchet quickly went to a medical cabinet.

"What's wrong with them exactly?" Skywarp asked, looking at them nervously while Bumblebee was standing, ready to help at a moment's notice.

"Overdosing with circuit boosters leads to overworking the spark and can cause it to slow down to where it is completely extinguished. They need the spark to be charged back up before I start administrating a couple of other medicines," he told them as he grabbed a yellow vial, uncapped it, grabbed a couple of syringes, and filled both of them up. "A shot of adrenaline to push they pulse rate to normal," he said as he went over to the patient and position the syringe at Dead End's neck and began injecting it. "The neck is the most exposed part with wires heading to the spark," he told them as it was injected into his energon-stream. When he did that, Dead End adjusted his vision again to Ratchet, but this time actually kept his view on him as he checked his pulse. "It's higher. Still not quite good, but he'll not die," he announced.

"That's good," Bumblebee muttered, relieved about that, as Ratchet went on over to Nautilator and injected it straight into his neck. The Seacon, unlike Dead End, didn't react to it and Ratchet was nervous as he checked his pulse.

"Slight increase, but nothing more. I don't want to pump to much adrenaline in him. One syringe is the limit. If that doesn't work, just treat them like a regular patient, as the drug has already damaged him enough. They'll need to heal with Bradadrenax to keep their pulse rate rising at a slow and steady rate, Purania to cleanse their systems, and Egniriax to quicken the healing process."

"Well, I'm certainly not telling Bludgeon about Nautilator," Skywarp said.

"You think he really cares about Nautilator?" Bumblebee questioned him.

"Yes, I guess you can say I care about him, in the loosest of terms," Bludgeon told Drift as they were hanging out at the bar. They were searching for Swindle. They were just taking a brief break at the bar that might last all day or at least to noon.

"What a rarity. Might as well call yourself an Autobot," Drift sarcastically replied with a pat on the back before drinking a glass of high-grade.

"Empathy isn't a trait that strictly belongs to Autobots, you know, and I don't even identified with them," he remarked while sipping his. "Shall I point to the Autobots who have lacked a moral compass, such as Flame, Flamemaster, and Pharma?"

"Exception, not the rule, just like with Decepticons," he answered.

"After experiencing and watching some of the things that have happened here, I don't understand how you can still say that," Bludgeon muttered. "Even I can realize that everyone here cares about people here. The only one who doesn't give a damn is that infernal bear. All he cares about are his precious rules that he can use to punish us at every opportunity."

"I have no problem in saying that Monobear is the greater evil here," Drift acknowledged. "At least Decepticons had a point with their suffering. This bear is doing this for no reason other than 'despair,' whatever the hell that is in his delusional mind."

"Something insidious. We can't fall for the bear's temptations," he reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. I want to get out of here with Ratchet. And I've done enough bad things in my life," Drift murmured.

"If you think so… you should try and seek atonement from Beachcomber if you want to exorcised your demons," the metallikato expert told him.

"Huh? Are you kidding? He has no idea I'm the one to subject him to all of Shockwave's experiments and I rather keep it that way," he told him.

"You think he won't find out? I bet there are files on it and there are people out who surely know about it. People like me," Bludgeon murmured.

"What?" Drift growled, glaring at him.

"You will never find peace for your crimes until you confront them. It's what I read in sacred texts. My recommendations, if you ever what to find peace for your troubled soul, is to talk to Beachcomber about," he told him.

"You're fragging kidding, right?" the swordsman said in disbelief. "I mean, I should just be glad he hasn't recognize what I did to him."

"I swear, I feel like I recognize Drift from somewhere. Someplace bad," Beachcomber told as they were done searching the casino were resting on a couch together.

"He was a Decepticon, so you might've seen him on the battlefield," Jazz recommended. "Or, maybe you saw him pre-war. Maybe you had a party with him," he said lightly with a gentle nudge to the shoulder and a smile.

"No, if it was something like a party, I wouldn't be having this sense of dread around him," the geologist murmured. "I have a feeling of that he was involved in something bad in my life."

"Well then, it's repressed memories," Jazz shrugged. "Your mind doesn't want to recognize it, so I recommend that you don's." Beachcomber glared at him at that comment.

"You know what he did, don't you?" he questioned him.

"Head of espionage. I know a lot of terrible things," he said nonchalantly.

"Yeah. We saw that in the third trial," Beachcomber remarked. "Thanks for not telling me about my friend being trapped in his own consciousness thanks to a rouge personality to you allow the creation until he was dead."

"Yeah… sorry about that. I don't intend to cause harm for any of my fellow Autobots," Jazz apologized.

"Does my memory of Drift have anything to do with you?" Beachcomber questioned.

"Nah, this has nothing to do with the Autobots here, unless you count inaction," Jazz told him as he look at the time on his electroID. "Almost twelve. Time to head back to the auditorium."

"Way to avoid telling me the truth," Beachcomber murmured as they set out.

Almost everyone was at the auditorium now, unable to find Swindle. The only ones missing were Ratchet's group, Dead End, Nautilator, the racers, and Smokescreen strangely enough. It was 12:05 now and he was still nowhere to be found. Just as Jazz was ready to go found him, he busted through the door with a glass container in hand that was divided up into two sections. "Right, sorry. I'll explain in a moment," he told them as he went to the stage and sat on the edge of the stage. "Okay, first off, you may notice that Ratchet's group is not here. That's because they are taking care of Dead End and Nautilator, who were found having overdosed on circuit-boosters and more than likely something else. Dead End is in good shape right now, but Nautilator is in critical shape right now." Every heard the door to the auditorium practically being kicked open and looked to see Bludgeon gone from the room. "Alright, anyone else want to go check on the two of them?" No one stood up at his question.

"Great, now then, as you may know, we're having an event tomorrow. A battle of speed between Knock Out and Blurr to see who is the fastest. What I'm opening is a betting pool," he announced, patting the container. "As you all know, we've been earning monocoins for our stay here, and really, there haven't been much to use it on without using a lot of it. So, what I'm offering is a way to make a leap up, if you're willing to make the chance."

"Seriously? You're opening another gambling ring?" Hoist asked, slightly amused.

"Hey, this one is legal. I even –ugh- asked Monobear for permission for this," he said in a dreadful matter.

"You're welcome, Smokey!" they heard Monobear over the intercom and everyone flinched at his sudden intrusion. When it was clear he was saying nothing else, Smokescreen spoke up again.

"First off, anyone calls me Smokey the Bandit or Smokey the Bear, I will destroy your gearbox," he threaten and everyone flinched at that. "Now, does anyone want to make bets?" They waited a few moments before they heard someone speak up.

"Ah, whatever. I see no harm in it," Beachcomber said, standing up and placing several coins in the left side of the container. "50 monocoins for Blurr. I don't expect Decepticons to overtake him."

"Oh, screw off," Wildrider said as he came up and placed even more monocoins in the other side of the container. "100 monocoins for Knock Out, baby. I know from him chasing me on the first day that he can get really fast." He glared at Beachcomber. "Call that bet, glitch."

"Oh, you're so on," Beachcomber agreed, placing another 50 monocoins in the container.

"Oh, things are getting interesting already. Anyone else want to place bets?" he asked the room. After nearly an hour, betting was complete. Unsurprisingly, people tended to place their bets amongst party lines. Decepticons voted for Decepticons and vice versa. Halfway through it, Smokescreen had to get another container to place more monocoins in.

"Right," Smokescreen addressed everyone as he looked the two monocoins over. "We have… honestly, I lost track of how much monocoins are being used here," he said clumsily. "Whelp, thanks for betting. Just a reminder, I'm open for any additional bets until 10 o'clock in the morning. If you need me, I'll be at the racetrack at the observation booth. Have a good day."

It was evening now, and Onslaught was tired. Everyone except him had given up on the search for Swindle. Everyone said Swindle was fined and he was just somewhere they didn't expect. If he was dead, they would've found his body already. He looked everywhere. He even looked through the entire maintenance hallway and he couldn't find him there. He trudged into the Med-lab, extremely tired, to see Ratchet and Bludgeon watching over Dead End and Nautilator. He must've called the other two off. The medic was looking over Natilator's hand while Bludgeon was sitting idly, looking over Nautilator's completely still form. Dead End was merely looking around and was the first to notice him.

"And so, the leader of the broken gestalt enters. What did we do to deserve you weak presence?" he sneered.

"Dead End, please don't antagonize him. Swindle still hasn't been found from what I heard," Ratchet murmured to him, trying to keep him under control.

"He's dead. Just give up. Someone will stumble on his body eventually and we'll have someone or everyone executed," Dead End continued his nihilist talk.

"Did his near-death experience somehow made him even more depressed?" Bludgeon questioned.

"I don't know how, but it did," Ratchet agreed. "It's almost impressive, if it wasn't so depressive."

"You would be too, if you know about the world like I do. It all ends in death," Dead End told them.

"Dead End," Onslaught spoke up, sounding broken, "I've already lost Vortex and Brawl. I've already lost so much. Don't bring me down."

"You're fault for making connections that will inevitably be severed," Dead End mummed.

"What about you, you hypocrite?" he questioned him.

"If I could go back in time and kill them before I ever I had to know them, I would've," he told him and that surprised everyone.

"Okay. Dead End, when this is all over, I'm signing you up for therapy, preferably with Rung, if he's still alive," Ratchet said as he heard Onslaught walking off slowly.

"Onslaught, just give up. It's all over. We're all going to die. Everyone one of us. It's just a matter of time now. Just a matter of time." Onslaught exited, the words drifting in his head, as he headed back to his room. Ratchet glared at Onslaught as he left before he approached Dead End.

"The drugs… have probably done something to your head. Just try to relax and you'll be back to normal," Ratchet told him.

"You believe this is not me?" Dead End murmured.

"This is too much of an exaggeration," Ratchet murmured. "This is not the version of you I know."

"You barely even know me."

"That doesn't matter. I know you well enough. I'll make you better," he told him.

"Hmph, how moronically-"

"It's not hopeful. It's realistic. I know from all my medical experience. When the drugs have all been flushed from our system, you'll be normal again," Ratchet told him firmly. "Just hang tight and we'll all be alight for now."