Bludgeon hummed as he sat by Nautilator inside of the med-bay, watching over the napping mech. It was the afternoon and they already had their fill of energon. Nautilator was apparently so hungry that he guzzled it all down and had to nap to help ease his stuffed fuel tank. Bludgeon was amused at how much the Seacon wanted to engorge himself, but he knew that the Seacon is still just healing. He'll be fine in due time, but for now, he would have to deal with Nautilator's various eccentric habits.
He heard the familiar sounds of Knock Out's footsteps approaching and didn't bother to say anything as Knock Out got to the machine connected to Nautilator to continue examining his vitals. So long as those remain normal, Bludgeon would probably be allowed to take Nautilator with him out of the Med-Bay, which was the result the metallikato expert hoped for. While Nautliator was safe in here, Bludgeon would find him much safer inside of his dorm room. The place is for too dangerous to leave him alone at any point. Especially with the new motive at play that left things uncertain for everyone. Anyone could be effected by it, even Nautilator himself.
"All vital signs are still stable. I imagine he'll be just fine," Knock Out announced as he turned to face him while crossing his arms at him. "I can release him tonight, provided I'm allow to do another check-up on him tomorrow."
"That would be just fine. A check-up tomorrow sounds just fine," Bludgeon agreed with his request with a simple nod to him. "I'm grateful for all of your help."
"It's fine. It's my job," the one-optic mech said to him in a humble fashion, a small smile on his face. "I'm just happy to have him alive and well."
Bludgeon hummed to that as he noticed how the mech added. It was a far cry from how he behaved when he first arrived, vain to an obscene degree and always tooting his own horn. Comparing that to how humble and selfless he was now, it was quite the change. Of course, after the series of unfortunate events that befell him, it was natural that he change. The mech with both his optics was happy that he changed for the better and not the worse. He could easily envision Knock Out growing mad after he lost his immaculate aesthetic.
"Well… I appreciate it," Bludgeon thanked him with the best smile he could give.
"…No offense, but I don't like your smile," Knock Out said as his smile went away and was clearly a little unnerved at Bludgeon's sharp denta and unusual, skeletal facial structure, looking less like a helpful client and more like a warrior in the midst of battle that was ready to slice his head off.
"Ah, sorry," Bludgeon apologized as he took a more stoic stance for him, feeling embarrassed. "I'm not exactly one for holding a conversation. I have a very unfriendly face. People don't exactly find me trustworthy because of that."
"I'm sure it's more than just that," Knock Out remarked to him with a sigh. "You've done Jhiaxus bidding for most of your life and you've betrayed a lot of people in doing so, including the Decepticons."
"Never to any large extent," Bludgeon defended himself with a light snarl. "And I made it clear to Megatron that my loyalty is not to the cause, but to Jhiaxus and will follow any orders he gives me. If it sometimes benefitted him over the Decepticons, then so be it, but I don't regret it."
Knock Out sighed as he rolled his optics at him. "Your steadfast loyalty to Jhiaxus is admirable, but stupid."
"It's because I have someone to care about and devote myself to," the bulkier 'Con explained to him. "Don't you have someone that you care about and dedicate your life to?"
That struck a nerve as Knock Out looked away. "Yes… I do. This eyepatch I'm wearing was made by them. A mech called Break Down," he informed him as he looked back to him. "I caught a lot of flack for being involved with someone like him, but damn them all. I love him, and he loves me. Nothing will change that."
"Then you know how I feel," Bludgeon said with a light hum. "My feelings for Jhiaxus are not romantic, but they have the same intensity as yours do. I devoted myself for far too many years, doing my best to do his bidding… only for me to lose him." The tank sighed as he looked at Knock Out right in the optics. "Pray that it never happens to you."
"It's already happened to someone else in here," Knock Out remarked as he glanced over to the other patient in the room, Hound currently having Rewind sit on his chest as they talked and Hound was doing some drawing on a datapad that Rewind brought on Hound's request.
"Indeed… the small one is lucky that he has someone to assist him," Bludgeon remarked with a sigh.
"No kidding," the doctor agreed with a small smile. "If it wasn't for Hound, Rewind would be in a bad place right now."
"Indeed," the tank agreed solemnly. "I don't think anybody would do that for me."
"Nor me either if I lost Break Down," Knock Out agreed with him. "I'm quite aware I'm not exactly the nicest individual."
"Well… glad to know we're in the boat," Bludgeon said with a nod before seeing the door open to see Scavenger coming inside, looking around before spotting Knock Out and heading over to him.
"Scavenger. What brings you here?" Knock Out wondered as the mech came closer to him.
"Oh, well… me and Mixmaster were talking, and he suggested I… talk to you about going over more through medical training," Scavenger informed him with pleading optics, his shovel-tail wagging slightly.
"Did he now? And what brought this on?" the doctor wondered as he made sure to watch his tone around the fragile individual.
"Well... Mixmaster just suggested that I do it. Said that I should do what I can for my education while I have the chance," Scavenger informed him, sounding slightly unsure.
"Ah… yes, I suppose that makes sense," Knock Out remarked with a hum. "I know Ratchet offered to help trained you, but with his death, I suppose I'm the only one who can train you now."
"Y-yeah… Ratchet was so nice with his offer, but…"
"Yes, I'm aware," Knock Out was quick to interrupt him. "He's far too nice for his own good, but you need someone to teach you." He placed a comforting hand on Scavenger's shoulders. "That will have to be me in this scenario. Haven't really taught anyone before, as far as I can remember, but I'll do my best to teach you how to be an effective doctor."
"Thanks… that makes me a bit more comfortable," the young Constructicon said with a warm smile.
"That's good to hear," Knock Out agreed before leaning down to speak to him in low tones. "Although, between you and me, you need to really calm your nerves. The last thing a patient needs is a doctor with shaky hands."
"Oh! Yes. Got it," Scavenger agreed with fervent nods to him. "I'll make sure to work on my nerves. This place is just not a good place to be calm, you know?"
"Of course. Hopefully, when we get back to the outside, you'll be much more at ease with yourself," the scarred doctor said with a slight smile of his own. "Certainly much less stressful than being inside of this hellhole."
"Oh yeah… and preferably, with Mixmaster by my side," he added hopefully.
"He will… don't you worry."
Mixmaster hummed as he sat at a table inside of one of the mall's restaurant with a glass of energon beside him. He had successfully convinced Scavenger to talk to Knock Out for training and that pleased him. He knew Scavenger needed someone to train him and that was supposed to be Ratchet, but that was obviously not meant to be. Now, he must hope that Knock Out's newly found humility meant that he would be willing to teach Scavenger how to be a doctor.
As he drank, he heard someone approaching him from the side and turned to see the owner of the footsteps. "Drift?"
"Yes… hello once again, Mixmaster," Drift greeted him as he sat down across from him, things slowly growing tense between the two. "To think, I've been avoiding you the whole time I've been here…"
"Yes… indeed," Mixmaster agreed with a gulp as he took a drink from his glass with his hands shaking slightly before placing it back on the table. "Why do you feel the need to talk to me?" The swordsmech glared at him before humming as he tapped his fingers against the table.
"Not sure. I've spent most of my time with Ratchet and you've spent most of your time with Scavenger. This is the first time we've both been alone at the same time…" Drift remarked to him with a hum.
"This is true…" Mixmaster agreed as communication between the two was quiet for a bit before a waiter came over to refill Mixmaster's drink and ask Drift what he wanted, which he responded with just a glass of regular energon, which made the servant walk off. "Did you come here for an apology from me?"
"That would be kind of you," the Autobot remarked with a hum, "but I'll leave it to you. "I just wanted someone to talk to."
"Could've talked to anyone but me," Mixmaster reminded him with a light snarl.
"I suppose… but I guess I wanted to settle old scores," Drift said to him with a glare. "After all, I've known you even longer than I knew Ratchet. We go way back."
"We were both in our worst state back then," Mixmaster agreed with him as his mind drifted to back then.
"So, do we have an agreement?" Mixmaster asked another mech inside of a small, cramp, and dirty room. Unlike in the present, Mixmaster had an orange and grey paint job with small traces of grime and rust on himself. The mech before him was Drift, but unlike the present, he had no kibble to speak of, looking small and gaunt with a sickly look to himself with rust on his body. His optics were flickering on and off and he had untreated wounds on his body with his self-repairing system working very slowly to patch it up.
"Yes, yes, we do!" the sickly mech said to him in a desperate tone. "I'll get the package at The Hole and bring it over here for you in exchange for some syk."
"Good," Mixmaster said with a predatory grin before showing a small chip that had a faint blue glow to the wiring, which caused Drift's mouth to open in awe at it. "Before you go… want a small hit on the house?"
"Yes! Please!" Drift begged as he put both hands in front of himself in a begging matter to the drug dealer. Mixmaster hummed before dropping it in his hands. "Yes! Thank you!" the addict said as he opened a slot in his head before inserting it into himself, connecting it to his brain. Once a connection was made, Drift gasped in ecstasy as he stepped back before hitting a wall and slowly sliding down until he was sitting down with a dopey expression on his face as his systems were paralyzed by the effects of the drug. Mixmaster chuckled at having the obedient addict within the palm of his hand before getting back to work creating another batch.
Mixmaster shivered as the memories of those days entered inside of his mind. He was a ruthless drug maker and drug dealer back then and he was ashamed of what he was back then. Only after he met Scrapper did he abandoned that lifestyle and went into a more legitimate occupation. But still, he left many victims and Drift was one of them.
"Do you regret it?" Drift spoke up to him again, looking at him with a suspicious glare, momentarily taking the chemist aback before grimacing.
"I wish to completely forget that part of myself," Mixmaster told him earnestly. "Much like you wish to disassociate yourself as a Decepticon." He could see Drift scowl at him before the waiter returned to place Drift's drink in front of him. He maintained his glare as he grabbed his glass and took a swig from it before slamming it on the table.
"…Suppose you can say that," he remarked with a huff. "Does Scavenger know about that part of your life?"
"No and I don't want him to ever learn of it," Mixmaster remarked to him with a snarl. "The only one who knows about it is Scrapper. We keep it under lock and key."
"You weren't ever arrested, were you?" he wondered.
"No… the police of Rodion were easy to bribed to make them look the other way," Mixmaster admitted with a grunt before looking to him right in the optics. "I thought you die from an overdose when I didn't see you again."
"I nearly did, but Ratchet… he saved me," he admitted glumly with a frown. "I took a large hit near his clinic and he found me catatonic when he went out for a walk. He brought me in and save my life before the syk finished me off for good."
"At least some good came out of it," the Constructicon murmured with a hum. "I wondered why you and him were so close to each other. That explains it to me."
"Yeah… and I still became a Decepticon after that. My mind was a frazzled mess back then," he said as he rubbed his head at that. "Guess that what happens when you nearly lose your mind."
"You're certainly healthier than me," Mixmaster admitted with a weary sigh.
"And why would you say that. Still taking drugs?" Drift asked with a growl.
"Yes, but that's not the reason. I'm dying," he said simply and the swordsmech gasped at that.
"What? How do you know?" Drift questioned him.
"A week before I came to this academy, I went to the hospital to get a scan. Ratchet was the one who carried it out." Drift was listening with rapt attention at that.
"What did he find wrong with you?" Drift asked him. The 'Con sighed before telling him.
"Zero point," he answered and the swordsmech was confused by that.
"A zero point. Shouldn't you be, you know… hospitalized?" Drift questioned him.
"I should be… but I'm still alive because of the drugs I'm taking stalling the effects of it," Mixmaster informed him with a miserable sighed. "In order to stay alive, I have to keep injecting myself with drugs to keep it from spreading. According to Ratchet, this zero point has been in me for several years now. Probably got it after a lab accident a couple years back when a piece of shrapnel lodge itself inside of my body."
"Primus… have you figured out exactly how the drugs work?" Drift asked him.
"No, and to be honest, I don't know which ones are responsible for me still being alive," the chemist informed him. "I was lucky more than anything. In order to keep myself alive, I inject myself once every few months with the drugs I've made to halt the spreading of the zero point."
"Primus… you could die any day now," Drift remarked to him.
"I should've been dead two years ago," Mixmaster remarked back to him with a light chuckle, "yet, here I am. Alive and suffering. Living with a zero point is not easy."
"No, I imagine not," Drift agreed with him with a nod.
"Yeah… trust me, I know I've done terrible things in my life, but I seek to atone for those faults of mine. This zero point I have is a constant reminder that I'm on limited time, so I will do whatever I can to get all of us out of here," the Decepticon said as he placed a hand on Drift's hand, surprising the swordsmech but not moving to remove it. He just say there, quietly ruminating on it they sit there.
"…Who else knows about this?"
"It was only me and Ratchet," Mixmaster informed him. "Now… it's just me and you."
"You don't find it appropriate to tell your fellow Constructicons about this? Even Scavenger?" Drift questioned him and the 'Con sighed morosely at that.
"I don't want to worry them… I rather wait until I'm joining the Allspark before I tell them," Mixmaster informed him.
"That might come sooner than you think, considering the situation we're in," Drift reminded him with a frown. "At the very least… you should tell Scavenger, in case if, you know…"
"Probably a good idea… but not today. I want Scavenger to be happy today," Mixmaster said with a smile. "I told him to ask Knock Out to start training him… I can't break his spark with this news."
"Ah… I see now," Drift remarked with a smile of his own. "I'm not a fan of you 'Cons, but… I understand the sentiment. Scavenger has never seemed to mature."
"That's… long and complicated," the chemist sighed wearily. "Damn Hook wants to keep him as nurse and nothing more, but Scavenger always told me he wanted to be more. Honestly, it's the main reason I suggested we came here. To get him away from that slagger."
"Without Hook's toxic influence, you think Scavenger would be able to become a doctor?" Drift asked him to make sure.
"I damn sure know he could, but only if he's in an environment that can facilitate it. Him staying with us is not the best place for his skills to come out," Mixmaster informed him. "A school like this would be the perfect place for him. They might want him as a teacher, but I want him to be a student."
"I take it he never had much education?" Drift asked him and Mixmaster was quick to shake his head at that.
"He had no home to call his own when he ran into us. No one cared for him. He desperately needed some sort of home, so Scrapper took him in," the chemist continued to explain. "To be truthful, Scrapper is the only one of us with an education. He taught all of us himself and we're forever thankful for that. Primus knows without him, no one else would've cared for us."
"I never knew… you were cooking drugs even without a public education?" Drift asked him.
"All I had were thrown away datapads. I found this one datapad on chemistry and I took a liking to it. So I made due with what I could find and one of the local drug makers heard about me and decided to take me in. Like Scavenger, I had no family to speak of, so the fact someone wanted me was a new experience for me," Mixmaster explained to him. "From there, well, I became the monster that I was. It's something I'm not proud of, but I won't runaway from it. It's a part of me, for better or for worst."
"Yeah… I know what that's like," Drift agreed with a sigh. "It's why I worked with you back then. Few cared for me and that syk you made was so good…"
"It was good, but unsafe," Mixmaster corrected him. "I left far too many victims… far too many."
"We've all left victims," Drift reminded him. "All of us…"
"Well, the only thing we can hope to do is be better."
Smokescreen paused as he exited his room to see Onslaught, Swindle, and Beachcomber breaking into Ratchet's room together. He hummed thoughtfully before shrugging as he went over to Hoist's room and knocked on it. After a little bit of time, Hoist cracked the door open to see him. "What?"
"Mind if I come in?" Smokescreen questioned him with a tilt of his head.
"Yes, I do, and what the heck is that noise?" Hoist wondered as he stuck his head out to see the trio of bots breaking the door to Ratchet's room open, using the same technique that Hoist had taught Onslaught. "Why are they doing that?"
"I don't know. It doesn't affect me," Smokescreen remarked with a shrug. "Now, will you invite me in or not?"
"No and that's final," Hoist said with a scowl to him as he pull back and attempted to close the door only for Smokescreen to jam his hand into the opening, causing Hoist to slam it onto his fingers.
"Look, I only want to give you something," he said with gritted teeth. Smokescreen may not feel many emotions, but he still felt pain. He could hear Hoist scoff behind the door, thinking about the situation before cracking it open again, giving relief to Smokescreen's hand.
"If that's the case, just give it to me now without coming in," Hoist said to him with a sigh of annoyance. Smokescreen in a pleased matter as he comforted his fingers before reaching into subspace.
"To show that I am serious about our friendship," Smokescreen said as he pulled it out and offered it through the crack. Hoist looked down at it and immediately felt disturbed as the item being offered was Smokescreen's butterfly knife.
"Um… no offense, but that scares me more than making me like you," Hoist said to the serial killer with a tone of disgust.
"Of course you would say that, but I want you to have this. Consider it… protection," the gambler explained to the mechanic with a slight hum. "If we're to escape together, I don't want anything bad to happen to you." As he say that, Hoist could hear the slightest the slightest tinge of something in his voice. Worry? Hope? Mockery? Hoist didn't know, but it weirded him out significantly at hearing that.
"Right… fine," Hoist said as he took the weapon from him. "You… didn't do anything to this, right? It's not poisoned or anything?"
"I'm not like Soundwave," Smokescreen insisted to him with an annoyed scoff as he withdrew his hand from inside of his room. "I didn't sabotage my knife in any way possible. Just keep it and hold onto it. Might save you one day."
"Possibly… but I doubt it," Hoist remarked back to him as he held onto it. "We'll talk… another day."
"I hope so," Smokescreen said to him before grabbing onto the door and closing it for the mechanic, successfully getting the final word in. The gambler hummed before looking over to see Ratchet's door wide open now and he was curious as he went over to peek his head inside. Inside of the room, he could see ransacking the room as quick as possible in the search for something. The serial killer wondered just what in the wondered before Beachcomber pulled out a datapad from under the bed and pulled it out before examining it.
"Got it! This is Ratchet's motive datapad," Beachcomber said to them as the got together to examine what it said in it together.
"Then it's official: We know who the mole is now," Onslaught said with a smirk.
"About time we made some progress," Swindle said excitedly. "Now we just need to…" he went quiet as he noticed Smokescreen peaking from outside the room. Realizing he had been noticed, the serial killer stopped hiding before stepping inside the dead doctor's room.
"Hey, Swindle. Good seeing you," Smokescreen smiled as he got close to them before leaning in at the datapad that they found. "What are you all doing with Ratchet's datapad, hmm…?"
"Why should we tell you, you fragging-"
"We're looking for proof of the mole," Onslaught explained as he put a hand to Swindle's mouth to keep him quiet. "We believe we know for sure who the mole is here."
"Ah… so you're breaking into all the dead people's room for their motive datapads, right?" Smokescreen asked with a grin.
"That is what we're doing…" Beachcomber confirmed with a gulp. "We don't need yours, since, you know… we can confirm you're the serial killer in Scavenger's datapad."
"That is true… but that doesn't mean I can't still offer it," Smokescreen remarked as he pulled a datapad out from subspace. "Nothing safer to keep private information than right next to you," he remarked before showing the contents of the datapad over to them. In it, the three could see that the datapad does confirm that Smokescreen is a serial killer, as well as talking about someone being responsible for an accidental crash, leaving them as the only survivor.
"Well... good to have confirmation on that," Onslaught remarked bluntly as Swindle finally removed the hand from his mouth.
"Yeah, sure, sure, still a piece of shit. You're just not the traitor among us," Swindle remarked back to him with a light growl.
"That is true, but I wish to make myself useful with my cover blown," the gambler assured them as he puts his datapad away.
"It sucks that you're literally not the worst person here," Beachcomber said with a sighed. "But we're still going to prosecute you for your crimes."
"Can you even afford to do that?" the serial killer asked them with a smirk. "I mean, judging from what we know, society appears to be destroyed, so how can I be prosecuted?" He leaned in to them. "Like it or not, we're all dependent on each other to survive."
"So then, why did you try to have us all killed?" Swindle remarked to him while crossing his arms in disapproval.
"Well, if I could escape alone, I think I'll be fine," Smokescreen admitted with a shrug, "but I've always had my doubts. I just wanted to make sure that I didn't get executed by someone else committing a successful murder. Basically, I'm optimizing my survival odds. Nothing more, nothing less. No offense intended."
"It's always about your own self-interest, huh?" Swindle remarked with a scowl to him.
"Of course. I'll admit, I care about myself above all others, but I know that I have no choice but to work with people with the situation calls for it. It's just a fact," the gambler informed them. "With more and more information we learn, the outside just seems worse and worse."
"That is true," Beachcomber agreed with him with a sigh. "The world really seems to have gone to slag."
"It is most unfortunate," Onslaught agreed with a sigh. "Still… we're closer to the truth each day and now, we have the certainty of who the mole is."
"Do you now?" Smokescreen remarked. "Care to explain?"
"Still playing?" Bumblebee wondered as he came back to the music room with cubes of energon in hand. Bumblebee went to get energon for everyone and left the two behind. When he left, Wildrider was still playing the violin and he was still doing so now with Dead End reading his datapad still with Sparky beside him.
"He has taken a liking to it," Dead End remarked suspicious with a glare to the maniac before he continued reading his datapad.
"Alright," Bumblebee muttered as he came in and placed a cube of energon next to the one-armed mech before turning to Wildrider. "You going to take a break?"
"Hmm? Oh, sure! I am hungry," Wildrider agreed as he carefully put the violin back down before coming over to take the cube from him. "Thanks!"
"You're welcome," Bumblebee agreed with a morose smile of his own as Wildrider popped his open before chugging it down quickly. Bumblebee looked slightly perturbed with his mouth open in disbelief as he watched him finished the cube off in one gulp and toss it aside. 'Primus, you weren't hungry, you were starving!'
"Ah… thank you," Wildrider thanked him with a smile to the scout. "That hit the spot."
"Now that your satiated, can you sit down for a bit? Hearing you play for so long is tiresome," Dead End remarked to him.
"Hmm… okay! Sparky needs attention," Wildrider agreed as he came over to the place where Dead End was sitting and grabbed a hold of Sparky the plushy sparkeater. "You're a good boy," he said while patting it with Bumblebee coming over, annoyed.
"Well, at least you've had a good time," Bumblebee muttered while taking his spot next to him Wildrider.
"Well, duh, I was invited here cause I'm the Ultimate Maniac," Wildrider reminded him with a smirk, proud of his craziness with Bumblebee just rolled his optics and looked away. Dead End, however, just scoffed at him.
"I've always wonder about that," Dead End wondered, which caused Wildrider to give him a dirty look.
"What are you saying, deady. I'm as mad as they come!" Wildrider insisted.
"No offense, Dead End, but he's right. He's crazy," Bumblebee reminded him.
"Oh, I don't doubt that, but I wonder if he was brought here solely because he's crazy," the poet explained to them with a hum. "Compare him to everyone else. We all have a title that can be feasibly be taught in school except for Wildrider. His is more of an descriptor rather than an occupation."
"Hmm… that is true," Bumblebee agreed and now Wildrider was rolling his optics at them.
"So? Nautilator was brought here because he was 'lucky,' as if that can actually be measured," he remarked with a huff. "This school has odd standards and I'm just further proof of that."
"But they made it clear it was through a lottery," Dead End explained to him with a hum. "Him being an exception is explained. Yours isn't."
"What are you getting at, Dead End?" Bumblebee asked him, confused.
"Yeah, quit beating around the bush," Wildrider agreed. "Tell me exactly what you believe."
"Very well. Quite simple, You were brought here as an Ultimate, but not as the Ultimate Maniac," Dead End shared his hypothesized as he turned to glare at his gestaltmate. "The truth is, you were brought here as the Ultimate Violinist." At that, Wildrider gasped with his mouth wide open in shock while Bumblebee just looked more confused.
"Hold on, you serious? Wildrider was brought here for his violin skills?" Bumblebee questioned him.
"Yes. I'm reasonably confident about that," Dead End insisted as he squinted at Wildrider. "You may think I didn't know about it, Wildrider, but I heard about you putting on violin performances. If I knew about it, it's likely the headmaster here knew about it as well and looked around at your background to confirm this hypothesis." He leaned in at Wildrider at that. "Am I right?" Wildrider was still stunned before gritting his teeth and look away.
"You have no proof," Wildrider grunted to him.
"The motive datapad," Dead End stated bluntly and Wildrider jumped at that.
"What?! You got mine?" Wildrider asked him in disbelief.
"Yes. In mine, it clearly stated that someone was lying about their Ultimate title and you were listed in it," Dead End remarked, leaning in. "I was suspicious before and that affirmed my suspicions. Now admit it." Wildrider was still in shock before he frowned and turning his gaze elsewhere
"…Alright, fine! I wasn't brought here as the Ultimate Maniac. You got me," Wildrider said in an upset tone.
"Wait, what? You serious?" Bumblebee asked in disbelief.
"Yes, but don't tell anyone!" Wildrider warned him with a scowl. "I got appearances to keep."
"Appearances?" the scout repeated.
"Isn't it obvious?" Dead End remarked to Bumblebee. "Wildrider values his claims at insanity more than anything else, but it's obvious now to me why he's been doing this." He leaned closer to Wildrider. "I know you've been institutionalized ever since the war ended and Rung has been on your case ever since."
"Rung… he was admitted here in our missing memories as the Ultimate Therapist, right?" Bumblebee asked.
"Correct and after several decades, he must've made a lot of progress with Wildrider. Progress that Wildrider is ashamed to admit," Dead End stated as Wildrider was gritting his teeth.
"So… you're saying Wildrider valued his reputation as a crazy person above all else? What kind of logic is that?" Bumblebee wondered.
"It's his own personal claim of fame. He wants nothing else," Dead End stated with a huff. "He may be saner than before, but his logic is certainly warped and in order to keep up the charade, he continues to play it up."
"Like when he desecrated Counterpunch's body…." The scout realized. "He did it to reaffirm our beliefs that he's completely crazy."
"That's because I am crazy! Off my fragging rocker!" Wildrider yelled as he stood up and started pacing around the room. "I've worked so hard to maintain it, but Rung just had to go probe my mind. Said he make me saner. I don't want to be sane. I don't want anyone to think of me as such!"
"But Rung realized it's not all a genuine act," Dead End hummed to himself. "Part of it was just showmanship on your part. You internalize the belief of your own insanity and thought it as the only thing you should be known for. But when you were released, you needed money, so you started using that talent of yours."
"And that's when the headmaster learned of it," Bumblebee figured it out. "When he invited Wildrider here, it was explicitly because of his abilities as a violinist, not for any of his sordid insanity."
"Yes. The truth is, Wildrider, is that you are crazy, but not as much as he likes to make everyone think you are," the poet finished off. "And with Motormaster as our leader, you leaned in more on your insanity to get yourself through life under his tyrannical rule, which he approved of."
"So… you became insane to get through the horrors of war, both as a means of coping and to avoid further punishment from Motormaster," Bumblebee remarked as he finally realized all of it.
"Which is why, when you realized we were trapped, you lied about your talent to everyone here, so as to protect your identity above all else," Dead End finished as he looked to Wildrider, who was crossing his arms in annoyance. "You always try to hide it, but the last trial, when you question my suicide attempt, that wasn't your insanity, that was the sane part of you coming out once again. It's apparent that, while you are crazy, you are not the Ultimate Maniac, but instead, an incredibly unhinged Ultimate Violinist. That's the truth." The violinist scowled at him before looking away and sighing in a defeatist matter.
"Yes… that's the whole truth. Much as I loathe to admit it," Wildrider remarked with a huff. "Just… don't go telling everyone about it."
"It would be better if you just go ahead and tell everyone," Bumblebee insisted to him. "If word of this gets out, people might think you hiding something more insidious."
"Oh, please. I'm just a violinist and that's it," Wildrider grumbled. "I want people to think I'm the Ultimate Maniac."
"That won't last for long," Dead End remarked to him. "It's best if you admit it, for the good of everyone." Wildrider scowled as he gave a weary sighed.
"…I'll consider it, but not today! I don't like it," Wildrider agreed with a scowl to them. "Guess everyone's secrets gets out at some point."
It was late in the evening now as people gathered inside of the lunchroom. Most of them were there, with the only ones not there were Hound and Rewind, still in the Med-Bay. Everyone else was able to make it, even Nautilator, who was looking slightly shake, but otherwise, walking about just fine. "So, we still don't know who has regain their memory?" Jazz asked.
"No, we don't," Skywarp remarked with a scowl. "It's very annoying. Then again, all I've done is play video games all day that I got from the mall." Laserbeak bickered to him in disapproval. "Don't give me that!"
"Well then, we're really screwed," Wildrider muttered, look depressed, attracting an odd look or two, but they ignored it.
"Well, that is such a shame… good thing there is good news!" Smokescreen said with an utterly smug grin that annoyed everyone.
"Oh, and what did you find?" Perceptor questioned him, annoyed.
"It's what we find!" Beachcomber insisted. "He's claiming credit for all the hard work we did."
"'We' did?" Dead End questioned.
"Me, Swindle, and Beachcomber had a task today: to recover the motive datapads the deceased mole suspects had," Onslaught informed them. "And it was quite… revealing."
"So wait, you guys know who the mole is? Then tell us!" Skywarp demanded as he leaned forward in anticipation.
"It's simple," Swindle said as he shifted his looked over to Perceptor, who was taking a drink of energon. "Perceptor is." The scientist choked on his energon as everyone else was shocked as they looked to the scientist, who took a second to make sure he could speak clearly before slamming the cube of energon on the table.
"What is this sick joke you're pulling?" Perceptor questioned them. In response, the four all showed off a datapad.
"This is Chromedome's datapad. In it, his secret is the fact that he had aided in the disappearance of Dominus Ambus," Swindle pointed out the datapad in his hand.
"This is Mirage's datapad," Smokescreen said with a grin to Hoist. "In here, it says that he purposefully caused an accident that permanently scarred a rival of his."
"This is Nightbeat's datapad. His was that he made an incorrect accusation that caused the person to commit suicide," Onslaught stated.
"And this is Ratchet's. It says that he accidently caused the death of a patient while drunk," Beachcomber admitted glumly.
"And they've already seen my datapad, which confirmed that I am indeed the serial killer," Smokescreen said with a smirk. "So, all of us are innocent of being the mole, which leaves one single person a mole suspect." With that, all optics turned to Perceptor, who had his mouth wide open in shock. "So, Perceptor, if you aren't the mole, show us your datapad. Now." Everyone was now glaring at him with suspicion in their optics. Perceptor gulped before he spoke up again.
"Look, I am not the mole. I'm completely innocent. I don't know why any of their datapads don't say they are the mole, but it isn't me!" he said desperately to them.
"Perceptor, if you're telling the truth, give us the datapad," Jazz said to him softly as Perceptor was looking about desperately.
"I… I can't! My reputation…" Perceptor began to speak before going quiet again.
"Your reputation will circle the drain if you don't give us the datapad," Dead End remarked back to him dispassionately.
"I… I… I'm going to my room!" Perceptor announced as he stood up and ran out as fast as possible.
"No, Perceptor, wait!" Jazz yelled as he hopped up to chase after him, Blurr following behind and Skywarp warping to try to intercept him. Perceptor bolted up the stairs to the second floor into the waiting hands of Skywarp, who tackle him to the ground as he got up there, giving Blurr and Jazz enough time to climb up and get to him to help pin him to the ground.
"Please, let me go!" Perceptor demanded as he struggled fruitlessly in their gasp as the rest arrived as we, crowding around the surrounded scientist.
"Perceptor, please, explain to us what's in your datapad," Jazz demanded of him. "I don't care what's in it, I just want to confirm if you're the mole or not."
"I'm not the mole! I'm not!" Perceptor demanded of him. "It's just, I can't afford to have my reputation destroyed."
"Because you're the mole?" Blurr badgered him.
"No! It's not, but if it's known, I won't have a career anymore," Perceptor insisted to him.
"If you don't tell us, I'll just warp into your room and get it," Skywarp threatened him.
"You can't. It's already too late," the scientist said to them with a grimaced. "I broke it and tossed it into the incinerator."
"So… we only have your word that you're not the mole, despite all evidence to the contrary?" Smokescreen asked smugly to him. "Why do I find it so hard to believe."
"No matter what, if he won't tell us, we must keep him locked up," Bludgeon stated for the group. "He's too dangerous to leave unguarded."
"I'll help," Bumblebee offered.
"I will too," Blurr agreed.
"Can't let this bastard off easy," Skywarp agreed.
"Alright, listen, Bumblebee, Blurr, and Skywarp, you stay with him and make sure he doesn't go anywhere by himself," Jazz ordered them.
"We can do that," Bumblebee agreed as Blurr and Skywarp force Perceptor back to his feet.
"Fine, please, but this will only prove my innocence," Perceptor insisted to them, with his gaze narrowing on Jazz. "I'm not the mole, I promise to you."
"I want to trust you, I do, but until then… this is for your safety as much as ours," Jazz said to him before looking to the other two. "Take him away."
"You don't have to hold me," Perceptor insisted as the trio led him away to his room, Perceptor not fighting as much now as they all entered his room together.
"Right…" Jazz muttered before turning to everyone else. "Hey… it's a long night. Just go back to sleep," he told them in a tired tone. Everyone looked to each other before nodding as they all left to go to their rooms. As they all left, Smokescreen came up to him and looked him in the optics.
"He's guilty, Jazz. Don't fill guilt for it," Smokescreen insisted as he leaned in close to him. "Don't tell me you believe him."
"I'm not sure… but I want to trust him," Jazz insisted to Smokescreen with a sigh.
"Come now, don't let him betray your trust like I did," the gambler remarked with a chuckled as he left, patting the spy's shoulder in a mocking matter before heading to his room. Jazz watched him walked off before sighing as he walked to his own.
"I just can't help but trust my friends…"
"Bet everyone's having fun at dinner. You should join them," Hound remarked to Rewind with a smile as they laid at the Med-bay together, Hound still sketching.
"Maybe… but I want to spend more time with you," Rewind insisted to him as he clings to him. "And I swear, you've been sketching all day. What are you making?"
"Hold on… there! Think I'm done," Hound said to Rewind before giving a smile as he offered it to him. "Here, for you."
"For me?" Rewind asked as he grabbed the datapad and looked at it before gasping at what was inside of it. Drawn on the datapad was a portrait of Chromedome, with as much detail drawn on it as possible. His visor, his wheeled shoulders, the exact detail of his head fin. It was quite remarkable. "H-Hound…"
"Don't. I'm ready to sleep. I just wanted to make sure you can have Chromedome by your side, even as you sleep," Hound said to him with a soft smile. "Now, I'm going to sleep for the night, then tomorrow, I'll be able to get up. Don't you worry."
"I… I… thank you," Rewind said to him weakly and Hound just smiled before patting him on the head.
"You're welcome, now head to your room," Hound said to him. "Knock Out will be here soon. I'll be fine."
"Okay..." Rewind nodded as he got off of Hound and hopped down to the floor. "Just… rest well, Hound."
"I will," he said with a smile before he quickly offlined from feeling worn out. Rewind watched him recharging, looking at peace with himself before heading to the exit. He walked, taking shaky steps, before stopping in front of the entrance and looking at the datapad once again. He stared at it, betraying no emotion on his face, before dropping it and walking off, not sparing a second look at it. As he did, Knock Out walked past him and stopped to address him.
"Ah, Rewind, good news and bad news. Good news, Chromedome is not the mole. Bad news, Perceptor is confirmed to be it," Knock Out informed him.
"Ah… okay," Rewind said to weakly with a nod, which struck Knock Out as strange.
"What's wrong? I thought you would be over the moon with Chromedome's innocence?" Knock out questioned him.
"…It's… good to hear," Rewind said before he continued walking again. Knock Out was weirded out by the reaction of the minibot before sighing.
"I guess he must be tired," Knock Out came to his conclusion before entering inside the room.
*Crack*
"Hmm…?" Knock Out hummed as the foot on his blindside stepped on something and he roise his foot up to see a datapad, now cracked. He grabbed it and looked at it. Even though it was cracked now, he could still make out Chromedome's form. "Huh… guess Hound drew this, but why is it on the ground like this?" he wondered before looking back at where Rewind once was in worry. "…Just what's going on, Rewind?"