At 7:30, everyone met at the lunchroom, minus Bludgeon, Nautilator, and Hound, and were discussing the ceremony today. "So, when shall we do the festival for the dead?" Blurr asked everyone.
"I say we do it at nighttime. Makes the fires burn brighter," Skywarp recommended.
"It's really inconsequential," Perceptor mentioned. "We can modify the time of the VOF to anything we want."
"We should still wait until nighttime so that we can give Nautilator a chance to wake up from his coma," Onslaught recommended to them.
"The poor guy," Beachcomber muttered. "Do you know if he will ever wake-up, Knock Out?"
"It all depends on him, although I'll hedge my bets on him waking up soon. Vital signs are stable, after all. I just think it's the drugs preventing him from waking up," Knock Out explained to everyone.
"So you believe he'll wake up today?" Jazz questioned him.
"I believe so, yes, but don't get mad at me if he doesn't. I can only give my best assessment over the matter," Knock Out informed them. "I don't have anyone to bounce hypothesis and diagnosis off of now, so this is as good of a guess as I can give."
"Yeah, without Ratchet, we're left with just you," Mixmaster muttered.
"And me, but I'm still in training," Scavenger muttered quietly.
"So, you guys wanna meet up at the VOF at around 9PM?" Jazz questioned everyone.
"Sounds reasonable," Hoist agreed.
"Agree," Rewind nodded.
"And I really don't care," Smokescreen told them.
"No one asked you," Swindle told him and the gambler shrugged at that, angering the merchant.
"It'll work. Nothing else needs to be said," Perceptor broke in between them.
"How good of you to talk, last remaining mole suspect," Smokescreen mentioned.
"Huh?" Perceptor gasped as the others listen.
"Oh, you think I forgot? There were six possible suspects for the mole. I know all of you are suspicious of me because, well, serial killer, but don't forget about the mole. I was on it, but it can't be me. Chromedome, Mirage, Nightbeat, and Ratchet are all dead, so that leaves one person left. Care to take a guess who it is?" Smokescreen questioned everyone and Perceptor clenched his fists.
"It's not me," Perceptor immediately said.
"There are two possible results here. 1. You're the mole. 2. The mole is dead. There isn't any other choice here," he told him.
"We both know how I'll answer."
"Unfortunately, yes, which means we're at an impasse," Smokescreen nodded. "What shall we do, because trusting you will mean doubting the dead and vice versa."
"All I know is that Chromedome isn't the mole, so don't you dare blame him," Rewind immediately said.
"Neither is Ratchet. Anyone say otherwise and expect my blade at your throat," Drift told everyone.
"Nightbeat was too helpful to be a mole," Skywarp responded.
"I don't believe Mirage would've acted as he did if he was the mole," Hoist told everyone.
"My, oh my, so we have plenty of people ready to defend the dead, so anyone want to defend Perceptor?" Smokescreen asked.
"I don't think he do it," Wildrider answered. "There, happy?"
"Well, Perceptor has one questionable defender. How nice," Smokescreen noted sarcastically.
"Enough!" Onslaught yelled. "Today is not a day of suspicion. Today is a day of mourning. We'll worry about who is and who isn't the mole tomorrow."
"Agreed," Jazz nodded. "We shouldn't worry about it just yet. Perceptor, as the last possible living candidate for the mole, is something of note, but we'll take care of it tomorrow."
"It's pointless, but go ahead. I'm not the mole," Perceptor told them. "The mole has to be dead now. We're being paranoid for no good reason."
"The dead have defenders, Hoist, and they disagree with that claim," Smokescreen told him with a wry grin, his head in his hand. "You can't make that claim without evidence."
"Then we'll find some. There has to be evidence somewhere to ascertain their identity," the scientist continued to defend himself.
"I hope so, but we'll interrogate you as well tomorrow," Jazz told him.
"Understood. Never been in a situation like this before, but I understand the necessity," he agreed.
"Alright. Let's go. We can do whatever we want during this time just make sure to meet up at the middle of the racetrack," Jazz told them as they set out.
"Smokescreen drives me mad," Swindle told Onslaught as they hung out at the lounge together with a glass of low-grade in each of their hands. "What the frag is he getting on about?"
"As much as I distaste him, I reluctantly agree with him about his logic. There is only one living suspect for the mole with his reveal as the serial killer," Onslaught told him.
"Ugh… I know," Swindle admitted. "I'm letting the sting from his betrayal get to me."
"I always told you he was a bad influence. I never knew why I felt that way, but now we know why," his commander told him.
"Yeah, you did. I should've listen, but I knew him longer than you and I thought he could be trusted," Swindle said guiltily.
"It happens. Trust is a fragile thing and easy to exploit," Onslaught told him.
"Yeah, well… screw him! Today isn't about that fragger. It's about our gestaltmates," Swindle told him as he offer his glass to clink together.
"It is," Onslaught said as the two clinked their glasses together and downed the contents before sighing in relief. "We shall honor them and then tomorrow, we'll hunt the mastermind down and kill them."
"Do you honestly trust me?" Perceptor questioned Wildrider as they were at the lab.
"Duh. Of course I do," Wildrider told him with his arms crossed and a confident smile.
"Why specifically do you trust me?" Perceptor questioned him.
"Reasons," he shrugged. "Calm down. I trust you and that's all you need to know."
"I hate being left in the dark… but I'll take the support I can get. No one's willing to accuse the dead of being the mole, so they're leaving me to take the fall for a crime that I did not commit," Perceptor told him as he leaned against the table, worried. "I've noticed the stares at me. The look of suspicion. It started with Hoist. Whenever we were in the same room, he was always looking at me suspiciously. I never knew why until Monobear explained it. Now, everyone is keeping their optics on me and I'm worried one of them might try to ensure there isn't a mole.
"What are you… ohhhhhh," Wildrider moaned in realization. "Wait, you really think one of them is going to murder you because of the possibility you're a mole?"
"We're desperate, Wildrider. Everyone's trying to avoid that fact, but it's true. Ten of us are dead. A full third. Those are some worrying statistics," Perceptor reminded him.
"Ha," Wildrider scoffed. "Those are just statistics and you know what they say: lies, damn lies, and statistics."
"Where did you get that phrase from?" Perceptor questioned, turning to look at him.
"Dead End has some Earth literature. He sometimes try to explain them to me, but I don't really get most of it, but some of those phrases sure are catchy," Wildrider told him.
"Hmph. Speaking of Dead End, how is he doing?" Perceptor questioned him.
"Well… not good," Wildrider admitted. "Chopping off your arm in a highly convoluted suicide attempt is not good for one's sanity, especially when placed in a high stress situation like this."
"What an… astute observation," Perceptor muttered.
"What? I can say smart things, too," Wildrider told him as he went over and wrapped an arm around him. "I'm around a lot of smart people. It's only natural I learn a few things."
"True, you do. Sorry for doubting your intelligence," Perceptor apologize.
"Thanks," Wildrider said with a smile.
"Welcome. Sanity is still questionable, though."
"Come with me," Knock Out ordered Hoist as he dragged him into the upgrades store at the mall.
"Woah!" Hoist yelled before the two were in the store together in private. "Why did you bring me here?"
"Something I should've done earlier and that's talk to you about Perceptor," Knock Out said and the repairer immediately groaned at that.
"What could you want to know? He's the only living mole suspect left and that's all you really need to know," he said to the doctor.
"Is that all you got? I know that you've had to be following him for quite a while," Knock Out told him.
"Yeah, I have, but I haven't found anything to point out Perceptor as the mole," Hoist told him.
"Are you kidding? Then why did that damn AI lead me to you?" Knock Out wondered.
"The AI has been talking to you too?" Hoist asked, interested.
"More like sending me messages- wait! He's been talking to you?" Knock Out asked with his arms crossed.
"Well… yes, although I think it's more like threatening me into investigating who the mole is," Hoist told him.
"Threaten you?" Knock Out asked, shocked. "Why would he do that?"
"He's worried about Perceptor being the mole and exposing him as an AI to the master," Hoist told him.
"He is? So… he's on our side?" Knock Out questioned him.
"In regards to the mole, I believe so. I don't think he would betray his master if he could, but he rather not risk the mole exposing him as an AI to the mastermind," Hoist confirmed to him.
"Well then, that's something," Knock Out muttered, crossing his arms. "Now, how do we use this information to our advantage?"
"I don't know, but keep your optics on in search of any info for who the mole is, alive or dead," Hoist said as he exited the room.
"Hmph. Better said than done."
"I'm so worried, Mixmaster," Scavenger told his gestaltmate in the courtyard of the mall as they were seating next to each other. Mixmaster was looking through a datapad of chemical formulas while Scavenger was eating many oil balls to calm his nerves.
"There are many reasons to be worried, Scavenger. What's going through your mind?" Mixmaster questioned him, taking his optics off his datapad to look at him.
"Where to start? Well, we can start with the fact Smokescreen is still walking and skulking about, the fragging slagger," Scavenger told him. "He damn near kill me earlier and he's a serial killer! He's fragging scary."
"No kidding. Once we're out of here, I'll make sure he'll pay," Mixmaster assured him.
"If we get out alive," Scavenger said cynically as he ate another oil ball. "We're always in danger here and anyone could betray us."
"Scavenger, stop thinking that," Mixmaster ordered. "We can't let paranoia override our senses."
"Can you blame me? I mean, we don't even have to do it knowingly, someone could trick us into killing someone, like what happened with Ratchet," he told him and Mixmaster had to reluctantly agree with him about that. That was an unsettling possibility that could possibly happen. You can't expect everyone to act rationally in a situation like this. He thought Dead End was rational, but he knew now that was just a pastiche. Same for Smokescreen. They were both dangerous individuals to have around.
"We will have to be more careful, especially around Dead End and Smokescreen. Both of them are complete wildcards," Mixmaster told him.
"Not to mention we don't know the intention of everyone else here. We don't know what they're thinking. The person we're talking to could be planning to murder us," Scavenger said nervously.
"Scavenger," Mixmaster said as he wrapped an arm around his nervous gestaltmate, "calm down. Remember, paranoia is our worst enemy here. We have to trust with them, with a healthy amount of skepticism."
"But… I'm so scared. I'm so scared for me and especially for you," Scavenger told him.
"For me? Scavenger, you shouldn't-"
"Ratchet said he was going to help me. I wanted him to so much, but… he's dead now," Scavenger said as he held onto Mixmaster. "He was going to help my memory problems and make me more skilled. I could actually help."
"Scavenger, you have help. You've always have," Mixmaster reassured him as he tighten his grip on him. "And no one will hurt you."
"And if anyone hurts you, I'll make them pay," Scavenger said as he tighten his grip greatly. "I… I don't know what it would be like living here without you, Mixmaster. Not having the rest of the gestalt is already driving me mad, but without you… I don't know what I'll do."
"Hey, come on, Scavenger, you won't ever be without me, you understand?" Mixmaster told him, feeling unsettled by him. Scavenger can be a bit unhinged at times, even if he always tries to hide it. Hook probably didn't help matters.
"You promise?" Scavenger asked hopefully.
"Of course," Mixmaster smiled at him. "I'll always be by your side."
"Oh, hey Drift," Bumblebee greeted him at the bar. Bumblebee was drinking some flavored energon and Drift sat down and ordered the same thing as him, which the monochromatic bartender provided.
"Hey," he muttered as he took a drink.
"So, what have you been doing?" Bumblebee questioned him.
"Katas. I need to make sure that I'm capable of fighting again and it helps me… forget about certain things. I'm just taking a small break," he told him as he took another drink.
"Huh-huh," Bumblebee muttered as he took a gulp of his drink before speaking again. "Are you… okay?"
"Why do you ask?" Drift asked him.
"Well, we haven't talk much, you know, after… Devola and Ratchet's death may have triggered memories."
"We don't speak about that," Drift immediately shot him down. "Orders."
"Yeah, I know, but I can't help thinking about that, you know," Bumblebee told him.
"You shouldn't. It was mostly your fault, you know," he continued.
"I know. Because of my cowardice, Crosshairs…." Bumblebee shuddered as he thought about it. "I can't believe he was still alive when we found him."
"Is he really alive?" Drift questioned him. "Can we call that broken husk of a mech Crosshairs anymore?"
"I-I… ask Rung for updates about him. He tries to keep quiet about it. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that, but he has told me he has been getting better," Bumblebee told him.
"Do you still think he's better now, with all the implications that's been happening outside?" he pointed out. "All signs seem to indicate that the world outside isn't what we remember it to be."
"I… I hope so," Bumblebee muttered. "I was such a coward. I could've save him. Could've prevented all that misery if I was just brave enough." The scout finished off his glass of energon before talking to the bartender again. "Bartender. Iacon Wasteland. Please," Bumblebee told him. It wasn't long before he got it and started drinking from it heavily, which Drift noticed.
"Sure hitting that hard," he stated before taking another drink from his glass.
"Yeah," Bumblebee said, his voice sounding a bit guilty. "I get like this whenever I think about it. That horrible event," he admitted to him. "I wish… I wish Optimus, Prowl, and Jazz didn't cover it up. I came out of that looking like a hero when I should've been labeled as nothing but a coward."
"I wish they tell the truth too, as I held some of the blame as well. Not as much as you, but I definitely failed Crosshairs," Drift admitted.
"We all did," Bumblebee muttered as he took the picture out to look at it. "You know, some days… I just pretend that the false reports of that day were true. I get to be a hero and save everyone. But that never happened. I didn't save anyone," he sobbed as he down the glass. Drift looked at the picture. It was there first day together. Optimus stood in the center, mask-up, arms crossed and standing proudly, as a prototypical leader. Bumblebee was crouched in front of him with a bright smile, waving at the camera. Drift stood to Optimus's right with a sword impaled into the ground and standing at an attempt to stand regally, although he could not help but smirk as well. Hound stood next to Drift and had an arm wrapped around him with a thumbs-up at the camera. Crosshairs stood to the left of Optimus and was standing a bit away from the group, but he was still smirking wryly and waving at the camera with a submachine gun in each hand.
"I remember that," Drift mentioned. "They used that to show how well we got along, not mentioning this was the first day. Things fell apart pretty quickly."
"Yeah," Bumblebee muttered. "No one mentioned that Crosshairs was in intensive care for ten years."
"Had to keep up morale," Drift told him. "Took him ten years just to move again. He's still walks with a limp, even after they gave him new legs."
"He's seriously messed up," Bumblebee muttered as he finished his glass. "If I had just…," Bumblebee couldn't finish his sentence as he grasped on to Drift and hugged him tightly. "Drift, I'm such a cowardly bastard," he sobbed, shocking the swordsmech, but he wrapped an arm around him to comfort him. He remember Ratchet being fond of Bumblebee, even if he would not admit it, so maybe he could at least help him out a bit.
"Hey, it's alright," Drift muttered, warming up his own cold attitude. "Look, the situation was… dicey at best. Even if you helped Crosshairs, you risked the chance of being captured yourself. You can't expect yourself to be able to save everyone you ever come across."
"B-b-but… I didn't even attempt to help him!" Bumblebee yelled at himself. "I'm such a coward." Drift sighed before hugging him tightly.
"Bumblebee, what about all the other brave stuff you've done since Devola? It takes a brave mech to do those sort of things," Drift told him.
"They don't matter. Not with Crosshairs on my conscious," he told him and Drift had to sigh at that. He was sympathetic to his situation. He has let events haunt him when they really should not, but Bumblebee's obsession with it was disconcerting. Then again, Crosshairs sure has never forgotten about Devola.
"Bartender, Iacon Wasteland for both of us," Drift ordered. Nothing better for forgetting one's pain than drinking with a friend.