Roller Pax

"The skepticism is encouraged, and perhaps even justified by the lack of detailed evidence and data regarding the events. We have established that as a species we'd existed in our current general form for at least five million years prior to the events depicted in these legends, but despite that more than adequate timeframe and our nature as a technological species, our society was unable to capture what would be considered the minimum level of detailed evidence required for any other claim to be given any level of serious credence in our current modern society." Roller explained to A-Three and Orion as holographic images of numerous pieces of artwork illustrating Cybertronians battling an army of Sparkeaters were projected one at a time over the table in the center of the room.

"So am I to infer from what you just said that you do not believe in the Sparkeater Invasion, or that the Knights of Cybertron rose to rally our species and push back their onslaught, killing most and driving the survivors back into depths of the Great Pit, nearly to the Inferno, and sealing them there behind the Tartarun Gates?" A-Three asked, an unreadable look on his face.

"I…" Roller hesitated, "I guess yes, some of it may be based in historical fact, but we should have some sort of historical evidence to support it if it were true as the legends claim. It'd be one thing if these Sparkeaters were a faction of Cybertronians or creatures that exist in our Genetic Database, but they're mythical beasts with abilities that defy what we know to be true of living things."

"The Tartarun Gates exist, they qualify as evidence." Orion chimed in.

"So does that mean you are a believer, Constable?" A-Three turned to Orion.

Orion chuckled. "Not necessarily. I suppose I'm with Roller in that there was something that inspired these legends, but much of it can't possibly be true." The young robot twisted nervously. "And please don't call me Constable, I'm not even a cadet. I'm a delinquent working off my debt to society."

"Uh, O, three hundred hours was met awhile back." Roller replied. "Our debt to society has been repaid, Ironhide must be charging you a ridiculous amount of interest if you think you're still required to be out there."

A-Three smiled. "Orion is well aware that the requirement has been met, he may have just found his calling very early in life. That is a blessing."

"He's doing it for free." Roller grumbled as he looked at Orion.

"House Pax has been beyond gracious in providing me all basic requirements. Why would I demand payment for something I would choose to do with my free time?" Orion replied, but pondered something for a moment before continuing. "To be honest though, perhaps I should discuss an appointment to the Academy with Ironhide, or maybe his offer of on the job training. If accepted, the Academy would provide me room and board, or if I choose Ironhide's offer of employment I would be able to afford my own place."

"Whoah, wait a minute." Roller objected, taking a step toward Orion who was on the other side of the small-to-midsized classroom. "I thought you were fine with your room. If you'd like a bigger one, I know Arlon…"

"No, you misunderstand me. I am fine with my room, I have no need for more, but the fact is that I have no right to it. I live here, but my function is not to provide maintenance or any other service to Tyger Pax. Your family has been beyond charitable to me, and I am beyond grateful." Orion explained. "But I am nearly at a point where I no longer require such charity. It is time I took steps to stop being an imposition on House Pax."

"An imposition on House Pax?" Roller stared at his friend stunned. "You ARE a Pax!"

Orion looked at his friend in confusion before an odd smile crept onto his face and he looked to A-Three. "Would you like to tell him?"

"Oh I know you're not a slaggin' Pax, smart ass!" Roller snapped.

"Language!" A-Three growled.

"Sorry." Roller replied back before continuing. "I know you're not technically a Pax, but you are a Pax. What did Arlon say the last time you tried to suggest that you didn't belong at the main table with us ingesting energon for the House Meal?"

Orion looked down and paused for a moment before replying, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "That he'd used his hind legs to kick me through the wall if I ever made such a suggestion again. He then told me to sit down and tell him about my day."

"I am hesitant to agree with Lord Roller, and by doing so contradict social norms and even certain laws, but you do seem to have been accepted by House Pax in an informal manner." A-Three said to Orion. "Which you clearly know, and for whatever reason…are bothered by. Why does it bother you to be seen as an equal and a member of a great House by those in said House? Especially when the House is the only one devoid of duplicity and treachery? You know they are not lifting you up just to dash your common frame to the rocks, don't you?"

"Of course I know. Every member of House Pax is the very epitome of honor; the only one capable of any degree of deception is my best friend who I trust with every aspect of my life, and that deception is limited to good natured jokes and shenanigans." Orion replied. "It's not that I have any fear for my well-being that bothers me, it's that I don't deserve such fortune. I've done nothing to earn it, and there are so many out there with so much less."

"Well, yes, inequity is a fact of life, but that does not mean you should not accept good fortune when comes your way." A-Three replied.

"It's not just with House Pax embracing me." Orion continued. "I…There are those who have adequate or even ample resources, but they are physically disadvantaged. Individuals who have sustained injuries that their frames have been unable to heal properly; sometimes minor injuries or ailments that should be no problem for them leave them incapacitated."

"Yes, that's another part of the inequity of life." A-Three answered. "Spark strength varies, frame capabilities vary, the quality of our lives hinge on so much that is beyond our control. Even those with the resources to stack the deck in their favor as much as possible by putting what they perceive to be the most quality elements into their hot spots rarely get anything more healthy than protoforms emerging from the most common of pools."

"But what of me? I don't even deserve to exist." Orion snapped. "I didn't even come from a pool, I came from the side of a road, consisting of nothing but stone, dirt and whatever common ore you find near roads. I should never have been born, and when I was born, I should have never have been found, left to starve in the middle of nowhere, unknown and un-mourned."

"Oh, sorry, let me get my hat." Roller replied sarcastically. "I didn't know this was going to be a pity party."

"Piss off." Orion grumbled. "I'm just pointing out that despite being an aberration, an unclean sub-Cybertronian, I've been gifted with everything. I practically have the rights and privileges of not just a noble, but a royal, and my health…I, I just don't understand." He looked at A-Three. "There was a circuit-speeder lab in downtown Polarus, Ironhide arranged a raid and wanted me to observe from a safe distance. The raid didn't really go to plan, a firefight ensued, as well as an actual fire when some of the speeder vats exploded. The lab was in the basement of a building that had apartments in the upper levels. A lot of the tenants were scurrying out, and putting themselves in the line of fire, so I charged in to help them. One guy…he, he took a hit to the mid-section, a shot that should be painful, but something that with adequate treatment he should bounce back from. I went to retrieve him and wound up getting four shots to my torso, two right over my spark chamber. I should have been critically wounded, perhaps even terminally wounded; I had dents and scorch marks. I grabbed the guy and carried him to safety. I then ran back into the building, taking a few more shots which again, did little more than sting. I charged up the stairs, grabbed several individuals that couldn't make it out; whatever obstacles that had been keeping them from escaping were nothing to me, flames and debris that battered their frames were mere annoyances. I made one more trip into the habitation suites in the upper levels to verify there were no more citizens before charging down and taking out the drug producers. They were armed, I wasn't; they didn't have a chance."

A-Three looked down, seeming to understand what was troubling the young robot, while Roller just stared at his best friend. "Yeah, you're slagging awesome! We know that, we've always known that!"

"But why?" Orion snapped, almost yelling. "When I tell people of my origins they express surprise. I should be feeble, I'm lucky to be alive, my frame should be brittle, ready to crumble due to the sub-par materials that it consists of. Yet I'm shrugging off energy blasts, I'm beating the hell out of armed gangs of hardened criminals with my bare hands, I'm practically knocking out surgically enhanced gigantic gladiators with a single punch, which, truth be told, I dialed back more than a little, and environments that cripple or incapacitate most other Cybertronians are barely more than unpleasant to me. And that citizen with the minor energy wound to his mid-section? His spark gave within minutes of getting him to the hospital."

A-Three continued looking down, deep in thought. "You're not made of dirt. I've examined the samples of your frame that I scraped off during your initial physical testing. Torenia is right, you don't appear to have been spawned in any known hotspot in our database, but you definitely don't originate from material found on a roadside. You don't appear to originate from material found anywhere in the Torus Heights."

Orion stared at A-Three. "Yet you referred to me as an unnatural anomaly, a seemingly very healthy specimen but my constitution was constructed of materials and in a way that would likely lead to my death." His optics narrowed. "Those were your words."

A-Three met his glare. "I thought you agreed that you would not look at your medical file."

"He didn't." Roller stated.

"Oh, I see." A-Three shifted his glare to Roller Pax.

"And before you as…"

"Yes, I know he wouldn't and didn't ask you to do it," A-Three interrupted, "and were I forced to guess, you probably had to blurt it out to him before he realized what you were telling him to keep him from insisting that you not tell him." A-Three noticed the look of surprise on Roller's face. "You're not the only one that has come to know Orion well!" A-Three turned to Orion and looked at him earnestly. "I put those words into your file as a favor to Torenia."

Orion was startled. "What?"

"You weren't born in a hotspot, but you weren't born on a roadside near Burthov either." A-Three looked intently at Orion. "I confronted Torenia, she insisted that's where she found you, I pressed her for over an hour, showing her your test results and explaining their implications repeatedly, but she never changed her story. But after that discussion, while her words remained unchanged, her optics were moved. She asked me to keep all findings to myself, and if possible, discourage anyone else from looking into you on any level. So I did. You asked why you are gifted with so much that you feel you do not deserve. Well young one, deserve them! Don't refuse the gifts you're given; accept them, appreciate them, and use them to better yourself, so that in time, you can better the world!" A-Three let that sink in for a few moments before turning and glaring at Roller. "You claim he's your best friend, to love him like a brother? You will prove it by never letting a word spoken here leave this room! I don't know the details, but a noble femme, and by noble I'm NOT referring to her birthright, was made more desperate than I would have imagined her capable of, and I have a hell of an imagination! She loves this boy, so do you," A-Three turned and looked at Orion, "so do I. This discussion ends here and now, and you will never again pry into his background, do you understand?"

Roller nodded, his face a display of complete humility and submission. "Yes Sir."

"Good." He then leaned back against the wall, his features softened, and he looked at his students. "Now, back to the topic at hand. I am pleased to hear that you both bear skepticism, and refrain from believing everything you hear, but it does trouble me that you so easily dismiss what is considered to be fact by so many that were wiser than the two of you."

"We do not dismiss it, Sir. I, and in all likelihood Roller as well, bear no disrespect for those that believe these histories," Orion explained humbly, "merely that there's a burden of proof required for me to consider something fact, and the events depicted in these legends have not come close to meeting that. I'm not saying that they did not happen, and for whatever reason anything in the way of firsthand accounts and historical evidence is all but non-existent for events prior to fourteen million years ago, so the absence of supporting evidence is by no means evidence of contradiction. But when what's being depicted is fantastical, there needs to be more than oral tradition."

"I see. I think it's past time I asked Arlon to schedule a trip to the Gates for the two of you." A-Three replied as he accessed his internal chronometer. "It's also time to dismiss the two of you for the day. The Primal Inauguration begins soon, and Arlon would be furious if I allowed the two of you to miss the broadcast."

"Cool, let's meet in the Tygerium, I love the screen there." Roller suggested. "And Orion, if you suggest you're not worthy to watch it there I'll do what the drug gang and burning building couldn't and beat you into a coma."

Orion chuckled. "Lead the way."

A-Three smiled as the two youngsters left the room, but his face took a more serious tone as he knew that Torenia Pax's attempts to keep interest in her foundling would fall short as Orion continued to display his gifts, even with A-Three's help. Perhaps if he were to find out Orion's true origins, he might be able to put a plan into place that would protect him better.

Arlon Pax

He had known Sentinel Honorum for nearly a million years, almost the soon-to-be Prime's entire life. He had first met him after the disappearance of Guardian Prime. Like almost everyone else on Cybertron, the young Sentinel considered the missing Prime to be virtually flawless, above reproach, the Cybertronian ideal in every way, and there was really no reason that Arlon could see to change that perception in the youth. But here, now, moments away from that former youth becoming the ruler of Cybertron, Arlon of House Pax, Emir of the Torus Heights, was having regrets about that decision. Power corrupts even the most noble and ideal of individuals, and knowing that going in was really the only chance of avoiding it. Zeta Prime was a deeply flawed individual, but his saving grace was that he was aware of each and every flaw. Sentinel Honorum possessed no such humility, and without a Matrix to magically enlighten him, there was no reason to expect Sentinel Prime to somehow acquire the trait.

But such concerns served no purpose, Arlon conceded as his quadrupedal body entered the forum and he sought out the seating apparatus designed to accommodate his frame. It would not be easy to find in the chaos, thousands of Cybertronians crowding into the Senate Forum made any movement difficult to say the least, especially for one that could not turn sideways to a flatter profile. The subdued and respectful tone for Zeta Prime's funeral was not being repeated for this less solemn occasion, but Arlon Pax continued to slowly make his way toward the box that Xaaron had told him was reserved for him. What was worse than the pressing and commotion were the looks that he was getting.

He had not left the Torus Heights in eons, and was regretting leaving it now. The gawking, the whispered insults and the condescending grins and comments were almost more than he could endure. No, he could endure it, he could endure anything for his house, his people or his emirate, but for Sentinel Honorum and his ascension to Cybertron's highest seat, this was getting a bit too much. Fortunately he finally caught sight of the box with his name on it. As he pressed his way through the rest of the crowd and got a good look at it, he was surprised to see how ornately decorated it was, and how trays of energon shavings and a vial of engex were laid out in a manner that would be easily accessible for one of his body type; a tremendous amount of consideration and opulence for one thought of as a lesser species by most of the planet. As he entered it, thankful to be away from the pressing frames, he saw a datapad on the platform waiting for him. He activated it with his right front paw and read the ornately written letter.

"Dear Arlon of House Pax, Emir of the great Torus Heights, devoted champion of Cybertron and honored and eternal friend of House Honorum,

It is with tremendous elation and gratitude that I welcome you to Cybertropolis. You were an inspiration, comrade, advisor and friend to my brother Gallus, and I would be honored if you were to be the same for me. Our emirates are neighbors and have always been the closest of friends despite the differences in population and wealth, but I would like to extend and enhance the friendship of our two lands, and with me now having dominion over all of Cybertron, I am in a position to see that the northern states are in a position to receive a greater portion of the fruits of our planet.

We are natural allies, and I'm sure you recognize that there are those that are natural adversaries to our mutual values. I would like to meet with you after the ceremony to discuss several things, and in the coming days would be honored if you would escort me through your tranquil and beautiful emirate.

I look forward to our meeting as well as our journey to the Torus Heights.

Best regards,

Sentinel of House Honorum, soon to be Prime"

Arlon stared at the words laid out before him and wondered apprehensively what exactly the soon-to-be Prime had in mind, and why he was so interested in the emir of north. He quelled these worries as he watched Senator Xaaron walk out to begin what was about to begin. Arlon grumbled, once again frustrated with a decision made by his oldest friend. Sentinel Honorum had much to offer Cybertron, but he lacked the disposition, temperament and overall comprehension of the role to be an adequate Prime. But he acknowledged that a Prime was needed to keep the emirates in line; the Senate lacked any sort of teeth or the symbolism to rally the other emirates to a mutual cause. If nothing else, Sentinel exuded strength, and was respected by all. Even those Houses that despised him respected his strength and determination, and would be foolish to cross him. But still, Arlon thought, there had to be a better choice.

"Arlon Pax!"

The leader of House Pax lifted his gaze from the data pad to see a tall, ornately designed and slender robot approaching him, one that he hadn't seen in more vorns than he would like to count. "Pathos Nexus, it has been a long time."

The head of the ruling House of Altihex smiled as he approached the outside of Arlon's box. "So it takes the naming of a new Prime to get you out of The Torus Heights."

Arlon smiled, which gave an almost frightening appearance on his bestial head. "I was inclined not to come, but Sentinel Honorum was most insistent that the Emir of The Torus Heights, and I assume all other emirates, be present for the coronation. I am not one to refuse a Primal Decree."

"Yes, even us southern emirates were given special invitations." Pathos replied. "Perhaps House Honorum has gotten past its old biases. Both against the South and those Houses that elevate commoners by adopting them into their houses." The Emir of Altihex peered intently at Arlon. "Being that you've been so…inaccessible these last many vorns, I'm not sure what your stance is on my adoption of Starscream."

Arlon met the stare and nodded. "While I have undoubtedly benefitted from my place of birth, and it would seem hypocritical of me to make this claim, I've never placed much importance in nobility. I've long since accepted the way of things on Cybertron; making changes within my own homeland has proven difficult enough so that I have no illusions that I will ever change things on a planetary level. So I play my role, but I will always judge a being on its merit; its true merit, and not the pit that it crawled out of. If a noble finds someone worthy of a title, and they feel this individual will improve their world with the added power and resources, then I am all for such an adoption."

Pathos grinned. "You always were the most progressive of us all."

Arlon continued his stare. "With all that said, I hope that there is a great deal more to this Starscream than what I'm aware of. I look to factors other than physical beauty and flight when determining worthiness."

Pathos smiled. "I know how it seems, you will simply have to trust my judgment when it comes to Starscream."

Arlon nodded. "I suppose I will." A hush fell over the crowd as the Senators and various religious leaders streamed into the forum, letting everyone know that the proceedings were about to begin. "Looks like it's time for you to take your seat."

Ironhide

Youth was a peculiar concept on Cybertron, it seemed less a lack of age or experience and more the fulfillment of a societal expectation. Most of the patrons in 'The Oil Works' were at least ten thousand years old, more than old enough to achieve as much wisdom and experience as virtually anyone else on the planet, but due to their relative youth compared to the rest of their species, they continued to act immature and even childish in many aspects of their lives. This was basically a bar catering to the hip, younger crowd, and Ironhide always felt very out of place here, but he actually enjoyed that fact. If anything, him being there made the patrons more uncomfortable than he would ever feel. And given the comparative lack of maturity displayed here as opposed to other bars, he was here fairly regularly. He walked through the pub, noting the subdued atmosphere that countered the way the bar typically was, even so early in the afternoon. This was likely due to the recently ended broadcast of the Primal Inauguration, which even here had been not only on the view screens, but actually paid attention to in a moderately quiet environment. Ironhide made his way through the bar, looking over all the vastly younger faces; all vastly younger save one. The constable was stunned to see A-Three seated in the corner of the bar, trying not to get his attention, but making no effort to hide himself. At seeing that he'd been noticed, A-Three shrugged and waved Ironhide over to the seat across the small table from him.

"Excuse me sir, but may I see proof of your age of self-determination?" Ironhide chuckled as he slid into the seat.

A-Three grinned at the comment. "Would you believe that I genuinely do not have any? The concept of age of self-determination came out long after I'd reached it. In fact, unless my information creep is worse than I suspect, I believe I came up with the concept of an age of self-determination." The old bots shared a smile as A-Three glanced around the bar. "Though from the behavior of many of these bar-goers, I think I may have to up that age a few thousand vorns."

"Ahh, they ain't so bad." Ironhide chuckled lightly. "You should see this place after the sun goes down."

"I'll take your word for it." A-Three replied.

"So what are you doing here? I was under the impression that you never leave Tyger Pax." Ironhide asked, genuinely surprised to see the old bot.

"I swing up to the Tartarun Gates from time to time." A-Three replied.

"Funny, every so often I give ol' Kup a call, and he's never mentioned seeing you." Ironhide answered.

"I have ways in and out of that place, and I like to keep to myself." A-Three answered.

"Ways in and out of the place?"

"Don't worry, it's not a security concern that Lord Commander Kup needs to be made aware of." A-Three tried to assuage the worry in Ironhide that the Gates weren't as secure as he had previously thought. "I spent more than a few vorns as acting Lord Commander of the Gates myself; and I still have my secrets from that time. But nothing that can be used by foes from within or without."

"Well, if you were anyone other than Primon…"

"Quiet!" Despite Ironhide's whispered tone, A-Three still snapped and hissed his reply. "I AM someone other than Primon!"

"OK, OK, settle down there." Ironhide answered, holding his hands up defensively. "Just letting you know that were you…anybody else, I'd definitely be letting Kup know that his house isn't as secure as he thought." The red lawman paused for a few moments before continuing. "Buuut, since we're on the topic of who you may or may not have once been,"

"Don't." A-Three interrupted. "Arlon Pax cornered me in his study and pressed me for hours to do what you're about to ask of me, and he did it well before the inauguration. Trust me, if I said no to him, the answer to you in a bar full of protoforms after Sentinel has been named Prime will not be any different."

"OK, I won't push, but I can sense you're not altogether enamored with Sentinel." Ironhide commented. "What made Gallus different from him? From what I understand, you pretty much thought the world of Gallus Honorum the moment you met him, and had him pegged as the next Prime right away. No such feeling from Sentinel?"

"I wouldn't know, I've never met Sentinel." A-Three replied, staring vacantly at the drink in his hand. "But yes, I knew right away that Gallus would be accepted by the Matrix, and believed he'd be the greatest of Primes."

"Well, I knew Guardian Prime, so I can see what you're talking about. I suppose he must have been pretty damn heroic and awe-inspiring as Gallus too." Ironhide commented.

"He was. If anything, Gallus was more inspiring." A-Three mused, still staring into the liquid housed within his transparent flask. "But there was more than that. He fit a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" The surprised Ironhide asked. "Something from the Knights?"

"No, believe it or not, older than the Knights." A-Three explained as he gently shook his flask causing the engex to swirl around within it. "And alien. I'm sure you've heard the legends of an organic race that ruled Cybertron before us, that lorded over our earliest ancestors. Well, apparently they were a space-faring species and on occasion entertained guests from other worlds. I was researching what I believed to be their attempt to purge us at one point, and in my research came across details of one of these visits. The designation given to the world these aliens came from was LV117, and apparently there were some temporal irregularities with this planet. One of the side effects due to these irregularities was that they apparently had some degree of clairvoyance. They provided a prophecy to our predecessors that detailed the emergence of a Prime promised to save our planet as well as many others, defeating great evils, and spreading freedom and justice throughout the galaxy. What stood out to me was that the most direct translation was Prime, not king, prince, leader, but Prime; a term that would emerge as a title of leader independently millions of years later." A-Three finally looked up at Ironhide and displayed an awkward smile. "Anyway, Gallus seemed to fit the prophecy to the letter."

"So what was this prophecy?" Ironhide asked, genuinely interested.

A-Three shook his head sadly. "Nothing. A false prophecy, like all other prophecies not based on statistical data or fore-knowledge. This one seemed to line up with Gallus out of coincidence, nothing more." A-Three pushed his drink away. "Forget I mentioned it."

Ironhide nodded. "Fine, Ah get it." He then looked down at the data pad on the table in front of A-Three. "So what are you doing here?"

A-Three shrugged. "Needed to get out of Tyger Pax, wanted to watch the inauguration without anyone recognizing me, figured this would be a good place. And it was, until you walked in."

Ironhide grinned. "And the reading material?"

"Am I under investigation Constable?" A-Three joked before running his fingers over the pad. "Just a little research. Geologic in nature."

"Geologic?"

A-Three considered changing the subject, but realized that if anyone could be trusted, it was Ironhide, and even then he was not going to give him the true nature of what he was researching. "Just indulging an old hobby of mine. Trying to see if and what materials other than what's already considered sentio-compatible can be used to create a protoform, and where those material exist on our world."

Ironhide looked at him in confusion, then potential realization seeped into his thoughts. "Any particular reason for renewing this hobby?"

A-Three looked at Ironhide intently. "No."

Ironhide nodded his understanding. "Gotcha." A beeping emerged from Ironhide's wrist communicator. "Ughn, excuse me, duty calls." Ironhide peered down at a newly revealed screen on his wrist and a look of surprise came over his face. "What?" He opened the channel with a mental command. "Prowl?"

"Hello Ironhide," Prowl's voice came through a small speaker on his wrist, "it's been awhile."

"Yes it has." Ironhide replied in a not altogether friendly tone. "Why are you calling?"

"Have you been assigning cold cases to your officers?" Prowl asked, his tone equally unfriendly.

A look of realization came over Ironhide. "I have a recruit who has not as of yet gone through academy training, so to get him up to speed I suggested he go over old case files in his free time. Why?"

"Your recruit just solved the 'The Spark Collector' case." Prowl replied in a matter of fact manner. Ironhide looked stunned; A-Three looked terrified.

Ironhide noted the look of terror on his companion's face as he answered. "What do you mean he solved it? You mean he took a crack at it and his guess wasn't bad? The Collector case is two hundred vorns old and unsolvable, it's one of those great unsolved crimes that cops like to think we'd have cracked had we been in the area at the time."

"He named Arn Kozminius as the killer." Prowl replied.

"Kozminius?" Ironhide questioned, noting that the binomial nomenclature typically indicated a noble, but that it was a house he was unfamiliar with.

"House Kozminius was a minor house in Nyon until the rise of Deathsaurus." A-Three quietly explained. "House Onyx took their lands and holdings, exiled them from Nyon but to this day House Onyx sends any protoforms to emerge from their ancestral pit to them, usually in a crate. It is common for the protoforms not to survive the process."

"Right." Ironhide replied.

"Yes, whoever you're with is correct, Arn was a member of this displaced house still clinging to a sense of nobility. Anyway, using what little information that could be found in public databases and whatever you gave him access to, this Orion of yours prepared a psychological profile of Kozminius that not only paints him as a good fit, but damn near matches the one we put together for the Collector."

"So what, this Arn Kozminius died around that time or what? Why did he end his killing spree?" Ironhide asked skeptically.

"No, he's very much alive, though he's been in a disembodied state for nearly that entire time." Prowl replied. "He was admitted to an insane asylum shortly after the last Collector murder at the request of his House, he was diagnosed with asymmetric reasoning and aural hallucinations, but after he was admitted he became increasingly violent to the point where the doctors recommended the removal of his spark and brain module from a physical frame. He's been there ever since."

"It'd take more than a psych profile to convict someone for a two hundred vorn crime." Ironhide replied.

"Look, you obviously haven't seen the case this recruit of yours has put together." Prowl shot back. "It's virtually air tight. How old is this Orion? I can't find anything on him in the database."

Ironhide sighed and gave an apologetic look to A-Three. "About five weeks."

"He's been your recruit for five weeks?"

"No, he's been my recruit for less than four." Ironhide clarified. "He's been around for about five."

There was a long pause before Prowl finally came back. "Been around, as in been alive? Are you telling me he emerged from the most recent Vectoral Pulse?"

"That's what I was told." Ironhide replied, staring into A-Three's frightened face. "If you want any further information about the lad you'll need to check with House Pax."

"He's a Pax?" Prowl questioned, surprise clearly etched into his voice.

"No, not really, he's just, hell, I don't know." Ironhide tried to explain without giving too much away. "They've kinda taken him in and are raising him. He's like a brother to Roller Pax, the new…"

"Yes, I'm aware of Roller." Prowl replied. "I'll respectfully go through the proper channels, but I'm interested in learning more about this Orion. For someone barely out of the protoformal stage to solve one of our planet's most notorious unsolved crimes is worthy of attention. You may have greatness on your hands and not even know it."

"Believe me Prowl, House Pax is well aware of what they have with Orion, and they are nurturing his potential." Ironhide snapped.

"I know, but perhaps he would be of greater service in a larger…"

"At his age nobody should be worried about how he can serve anything." Ironhide interrupted. "When he's at an appropriate age, he can decide who, what or where he wants to serve."

"And until then I guess he can just do your job for you, is that it?" Prowl growled back.

"I'm helpin' him, and he loves the work!" Ironhide snapped. "And he's safe here. You put him on the streets of Iacon or Cybertropolis or wherever you wanna stick him, and he could get his spark snuffed!"

"This isn't Rodion or Tarn, Ironhide, and I don't want to drag him away from his home!" Prowl snapped as well. "I merely am interested in getting to know him better!"

"He's not an asset to be utilized for the glory of House Honorum!" Ironhide snarled.

"That isn't what this is about and you slaggin' know it!"

"All I slaggin' know is that if you want any more information about Orion, I would suggest you go through Arlon Pax." Ironhide warned. "But I suggest you tread lightly, Prowl, because Lord Pax is very protective of the kid." Ironhide disconnected the call with Prowl and looked at A-Three. The two stared at one another for several moments before Ironhide's optics lowered down to the data pad. "I pray ta' Primus that whatever materials you find in your research fall within the borders of the Torus Heights."

A-Three nodded. "As do I."

Lightwave

The inauguration was about what he had expected, and while he usually enjoyed his visits to the planetary capital, he was happy to be home. He watched as the shuttle carrying him touched down on the landing pad outside Castle Fluctus of House Torrent. Moments later he was marching into the vast structure, brushing off servants and guards as he made his way toward the lab. Up ahead he saw someone that he couldn't simply brush off, his kinsman Soundwave had been tasked with running the emirate while Lightwave was watching Sentinel Honorum get what he felt he had deserved since he was a protoform. "Anything to report Soundwave?"

"Negative Lightwave, status, unchanged." Soundwave replied in his almost lifeless way.

"Good." Lightwave approached and beckoned Soundwave to walk with him. "Shockwave was supposed to meet me in Cybertropolis. The other houses are interested in meeting our scientific prodigy, yet he has once again chosen to embarrass the House in favor of whatever nonsense has piqued his interest today."

"I cannot say what he is doing or his motivation for not leaving for Nova Cronum this morning, all I know is that he has been in the lab all day." Soundwave replied.

"I will deal with him. I understand you have plans to travel, go ahead. I will contact you if I need to ask anything of you." Lightwave said as he continued ahead toward the laboratory.

Several minutes later he reached his destination and burst into the room, causing the hulking purple robot on the far side to merely turn his head. "Hello Lightwave."

"Why were you not in Cybertropolis today?" Lightwave demanded, clearly irritated. "Your presence was expected."

"I don't care." Shockwave replied. "My presence was not going to change the outcome of whether Sentinel Honorum was named Prime or not."

"We have an image to maintain!" Lightwave snarled. "Despite your best efforts, word of your intellect has gotten out and people want to meet the genius of House Torrent."

"Why should I care what they want?" Shockwave asked as he continued working on whatever he was working on. "I'm in the middle of something important, but you suggest that I put that aside to cater to the whims of people I don't know or care to know?"

"Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, image is vitally important, as is maintaining relationships with the other ruling houses." Lightwave replied. "When you fail to show up to the naming of a Prime, you show an utter disrespect for our culture to everyone else."

"I don't respect our culture." Shockwave replied disinterestedly.

"You don't get to enjoy the perks of being a royal and then make such a claim!" Lightwave replied angrily.

Shockwave was silent for a moment, seeming to ignore the comment while focused on the work he was doing on the six screens in front of his nearly featureless face, but after nearly a minute he finally replied. "If standing in our society were based on merit and not place of birth, do you truly believe that I would be any worse off?" Shockwave finally turned to address the head of his House. "I am brilliant, perhaps the most efficient administrator, tactician and scientist on the planet, and physically, well, the gifts of my large frame pale in comparison to the power that it houses within. I would find financing for any endeavor I would ever wish to take, and I would have acquired my own wealth in very little time at all. Believe me, were this society of ours to crumble, I would have no problem positioning myself within the elite. The 'Shock' is far more than the 'Wave'."

Lightwave stared at the glowing orb that made out the only feature within Shockwave's helmeted face. "And there it is, you've officially said it. You are greater than your house. Do you consider yourself to be greater than Fluctus himself?"

"I do not know, The Knights of Cybertron were long dead prior to my birth. I would have to meet him to fully evaluate him." Shockwave replied before turning back around. "Frankly Lightwave, I would think you would be happy that I am so disinterested in what you find important."

"Oh, and why is that?" Lightwave snarled.

"Because I would take what is yours." Shockwave replied matter of factly. "I'm smarter, and as I've mentioned, I'm a better administrator, I would run this emirate with ease. But because I have no interest in doing so, you're free to maintain your position."

"As gifted as you apparently think you are, you are a faceless, arrogant shut-in with no appeal whatsoever to the other members of this great house, they would never select you over me!" Lightwave replied angrily.

"I can have facial reconstruction anytime I wish, I just don't care about anything as petty as my appearance." Shockwave replied, his voice still filled with ambivalence. "Though physical attraction is at the core of what I'm currently researching, if you'd care to see."

"You're researching romance?" Lightwave replied, stunned.

"I'm researching factors causing sparks to be drawn to other sparks in different ways, romantic tendencies are just one of those." Shockwave replied. "It has been theorized for millions of years that factors within sparks that develop the metallico around them into masculine forms are what cause those masculine robots to be drawn toward feminine forms, or perhaps the sparks housed within feminine forms, and vice versa, but until now they have only been theories. I have identified and quantified the energy output…frequencies, for lack of a better term, that cause most 'male' sparks to be drawn, and the same for 'female' sparks; at least in the majority of the population. There are those that seem to be attracted to the same gender, I would guess somewhere between eight and twelve percent."

Lightwave laughed. "All that research, just to confirm what everyone on the planet has already known for millions of years. If you were so brilliant, you'd have come up with something new or worthwhile!"

"I have." Shockwave replied, no indication of annoyance or offense in his voice. "The romantic aspect was just a mild diversion and an adequate segue into the main focus; the bulk of my study was in lesser known qualities. Less about desire, more…cooperation and enhancement."

"Meaning what?"

"Some sparks give off energy frequencies that can interact with other sparks, an interaction that either allows the individual to come closer to their established potential or somehow increases their potential; I haven't determined which is the case yet." Shockwave explained. "The crew of workers that you hired to rebuild the amphitheater have proven to be excellent examples, the ones Hook and Scrapper are scientifically inclined enough to volunteer their team to the service of my study. The ones designated Bonecrusher and Scavenger are quite dim when you talk to them individually, but when the six of them are together they all become beyond proficient in their work."

"That means nothing, even idiots have a niche they're good at." Lightwave replied.

"That's true, but I conducted several tests where I would isolate them and have them perform a task, then have them perform an equivalent task while in the presence of the others." Shockwave explained. "They were very competent on their own, but the level of proficiency while with their comrades in relative proximity was significantly raised; it's a hard thing to measure, but I would estimate their enhancement in proficiency to be roughly ten percent." Shockwave walked over to a computer screen at another table and directed Lightwave's attention to it. "I've theorized that there are various ways to capitalize on this spark compatibility beyond simple competence enhancement. Some of my theories involve some concepts that seem to defy possibility, but my initial calculations seem to support them. They would involve physical alterations, but if accurate, the results could be…astounding."

Lightwave peered at the shapes on the screen for several moments before ceasing his attempts to make sense of them. "I don't know what I'm looking at, and frankly, I don't care. I forbid you from continuing down this line of study. If you're interested in sparks, you may see if there are ways to make mine," the elder member of the house looked at Shockwave's broad chest enviously, "more like yours. I would encourage that, but the rest of this, it's all an abomination and it will no longer be done in my house!"

Mirage Decimus

There had been a change in how he was treated by this collection of riff-raff lately. The vast majority of the scum and lower nobles that came to these events still regarded him with the respectful distance and hidden disrespectful glares, but some of those running the event, just a handful really, had taken to displaying knowing smiles when they greeted him, as if they had a secret involving him that he was unaware of, and it was most disconcerting. Worst of all was that adopted fop Starscream, who had recently started wrapping his arm around Mirage's shoulders and talking about how wonderful it was to have House Decimus supporting these events.

It was a confusing statement, and when he asked for elaboration, Starscream just smiled and said something about Mirage's presence meaning so much. The most irritating part was that these cryptic little comments had only come about in the last several weeks, since the death of Zeta, and Mirage couldn't help but believe they were related. Now that a Decimus no longer held the mantle of Prime, it was apparently OK to joke about a Decimus being at these gladiatorial events. As though while Zeta Prime were still alive, Mirage's presence at the illegal and illicit events was above being mentioned, but now it was safe to be joked about. Mirage never minded jokes or good natured fun-poking, but it was the timing that irritated him, as if to suggest he were suddenly vulnerable and lowered to the same level as a baseborn with the good fortune to be elevated into a royal house.

The funny thing was that he used to enjoy Starscream's company immensely back when the flier was just a commoner. Despite his low birth he had gone out of his way to educate himself to a level where he was able to speak as an equal to almost anyone on almost any subject. And his low upbringing made him well versed in the vulgarity that Mirage and others of his station did enjoy listening to on occasion. But Starscream's ascension to House Nexus was not well received by most nobles, Mirage included, and his view of the winged robot had changed. And the air of entitlement that Starscream immediately adopted didn't help that view in the least.

Mirage looked through the crowd and almost on cue, saw the grinning, winged form of the robot he had just been thinking about. There was no avoiding him, so Mirage just displayed a subdued smile and greeted the robot. "Hello Starscream. Let me guess, it's wonderful to see House Decimus supporting these events."

"It certainly is." Starscream bantered back. "You and I have a special treat in store for us on the undercard."

"Oh, and what's that?" The skeptical Mirage asked.

"A pair from that anti-nobility group are fighting some hard cases from Tarn." Starscream happily reported as the two made their way toward the boxes reserved for VIP's.

"Ah, so I get to see some Autobots get dismantled." Mirage muttered with a smile. "Should be very entertaining. I'm guessing it's a no-fatality contest."

"Unfortunately yes, they will live to plague us another day." Starscream replied, cherishing the slight twinge Mirage gave at hearing him use the term 'us'. "From what I understand, they're unusual in that they come from a branched spark."

Mirage froze in his steps and stared intently at Starscream. "Branched spark? Are their names Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?"

"Why yes, I believe those are their names." Starscream replied, suddenly realizing why Mirage was so interested and smiling inwardly at the realization. "Why? How do you know them?"

"I don't know those pieces of shit!" Mirage snarled. "There were suspects in Zeta's murder."

"I thought Prowl hadn't released any details yet." Starscream replied, playing dumb.

"I'm a Decimus, I have access to every facet of this investigation." Mirage snapped.

"Well let's go watch them get taken apart my friend." Starscream suggested, his compassion for Mirage seemingly sincere, and for once Mirage was at ease with Starscream wrapping his arm around his shoulder as they headed for the VIP box.

Mirage sat silently waiting for the fights to start, and a half hour later the opening bout was about to begin. The fighters were announced and introduced, the rules were explained (no weapons, no killing, strictly hand to hand to submission or unconsciousness), and they were ready for the fight to commence. The two fighters from Tarn were noticeably larger and appeared to bear vastly more in terms of armor than the two Autobot brothers, which brought a smile to Starscream's face, but brought no change to Mirage's stone visage. The lack of obvious armor did not mean a lack of armor; Mirage knew that better than most as he had undergone a process to leave him sleek and lean while having a significant degree of protection. And if he had undergone such a process, so possibly had these two commoners from Iacon. While they were likely penniless, they were obviously being represented by someone, and that someone probably had resources to armor their fighters.

The fight began with the Tarnian's charging in looking to quickly overwhelm the pair and beat them into an early submission, and it seemed to be heading that way as they got their large arms on the brightly colored pair. But it soon became apparent that the smaller robots were stronger than they appeared, especially the red one, and both were extremely adept at grappling. With the assumed strength advantage mitigated if not entirely removed, the smaller robots suddenly had an advantage being inside the defenses of the larger robots, and began hammering away at the mid-sections of their opponents. Almost in unison, the Tarnians pushed their way back away from the brothers to make use of their reach advantage by turning the battle into one of primarily striking, but while they did have a reach advantage, the two Iaconians were much faster, and made use of their superior reflexes by avoiding, blocking or parrying strikes to get back in and deliver more hammering before bouncing back away.

One Tarnian transformed into an earthmover mode and set upon his yellow opponent in an attempt to flatten the exceptionally handsome robot, but this Sunstreaker leapt to the side just in time, transformed and sped away in a sleek vehicular mode that was even prettier than his robotic one. The yellow street racer sped toward the other pair of combatants, and without even looking the red one leapt to his side, planted a foot on the rear of his brother's alt mode, and sprung from him into the air, landing with a thunderous downward punch into the top of the pursuing earthmover, his clearly enhanced arm, chest and shoulder presses helping him to drive his fist through the armor of the vehicle and causing it to cry out in pain.

Sunstreaker transformed while speeding toward Sideswipe's former opponent and at sixty miles per hour delivered a flying thrust kick into the upper chest of the surprised Tarnian. The Tarnian collapsed, and the moment he hit the ground Sunstreaker's yellow frame landed on him, a finger driving into each of the robot's optics and obliterating all the circuitry from the lens down to just outside the braincase below. Sunstreaker flipped off of the blinded warrior as the Tarnian cried out in pain and attempted to grab the Iaconian on top of him.

Sideswipe watched his opponent painfully transform, and once fully robotic, the red Iaconian set upon him, and with a series of thrust kicks, arm twists, and punches, the second Tarnian was dismantled and unable to continue. The red robot looked to his brother, and then both looked to the referee droid who scanned their opposition. After an evaluation of the injuries the droid determined the match to be over and awarded the victory to the brothers, who just shrugged and marched out of the pit. "Don't worry," Starscream yelled out to Mirage over the cheers of the crowd, "they will get what they deserve soon enough." Mirage merely glared at the departing Autobots.

Roller Pax

Like with most 'living legends', this Sentinel Prime didn't seem to live up to the expectations that Roller had prior to meeting him a half hour before. Arlon had returned from Cybertropolis and had barely gotten out of his transport before announcing that the Primal Transport would be arriving right behind him. He entered Tyger Pax only to return a few minutes later with several servants carrying supplies for a journey. The large quadruped then marched over to Roller and told him it was past time for him to see the Gates, and that Roller would be escorting him, the new Prime, and everyone else in Sentinel Prime's entourage to the polar mountains. It was at that moment that the Primal Transport cut through the clouds and the snow-filled sky and began descending on their platform. Roller had always assumed he'd see the Gates for the first time with Orion, but apparently that wasn't to be as Orion was at work in Polarus. Roller chuckled as he remembered pondering whether it could truly be considered work if Orion wasn't getting paid for it.

Sentinel Prime had exited the craft, delivered a smiling greeting to all present and had assured them all that he would be returning to Tyger Pax to meet everyone before continuing on to look over Polarus. Roller could see the nervousness of both Arlon and Sentinel's security chief Prowl as the Prime made this announcement, but Sentinel Prime was utterly fearless of exposing himself in such a way. The one thing this new Prime certainly didn't lack was a supreme confidence. Roller had been taught that confidence was a necessary trait for any individual, and more so for a leader, but to always be careful not to let it extend into arrogance. From what the young Pax could tell, the new Prime had passed that point and kept on going. But despite the arrogance, he seemed likable enough, and Roller was more than happy to meet him. The Prime was certainly a big guy, almost twice Roller's height and looked to be a good four feet taller than what Orion was. Of course, when dealing with House Honorum's pride and joy, there was a good chance that he had been partially or even completely rebuilt to be that size. He certainly appeared to have undergone every conceivable armor and press enhancement, which was probably helping to fuel his apparent fearlessness.

They had loaded back into the Primal Transport, now with Arlon and Roller, and set forth toward the Tartarun Gates. Roller had been told that the Wardens had forbidden ships from landing in the clearing before the main entrance, but as this was the Prime, an exception had been made. So Roller had spent a good portion of the trip discreetly studying Sentinel Prime, listening to his words, watching his movements, and he was…impressed, but not as impressed as he had expected to be. "Pardon me, Lord Pax." Roller looked up to see Prowl approaching him and taking the open seat next to him. "I hope I'm not bothering you, but if it's alright, I'd like to ask you a question or two."

Roller nodded, a little surprised, but responded. "Of course, and please, it's just Roller. Arlon is Lord Pax, not me."

"If that's what you wish, Roller." Prowl replied. "I understand you were given life in the last Vectoral pulse."

"Uh, yes, yes I was." Roller answered.

"And I've heard that you were the only protoform to be born into House Pax for this pulse, but that you are being raised with a common-born protoform." Prowl pressed, less than gracefully.

Roller nodded. "Yes, Orion."

"Hmm, I'm intrigued by this situation." Prowl replied. "You don't frequently hear about common protoforms being brought into and raised by noble or royal houses."

"I suppose not." Roller was getting more and more uncomfortable discussing his best friend. "Torenia found him abandoned and brought him to Tyger Pax."

"And where did she find him?" Prowl pressed eagerly.

"Roller Pax." Both robots looked up to see Arlon looking over them. "Sentinel Prime has been gracious enough to let you go into the cockpit and watch the pilot operate this fine craft. It's a tremendous opportunity for you."

Roller nodded and looked to Prowl. "It was a pleasure to speak with you, Commander Prowl."

Prowl nodded to the youth as he rose and walked across the craft toward the cockpit. He then looked up at Arlon Pax. "Hello my lord."

Roller caught Arlon nodding to Prowl out of the corner of his eye. "Commander." Arlon then turned and walked back toward Sentinel Prime, who was cheerfully talking to several other members of his personal guard.

Roller entered the cockpit and watched as the pilot directed the craft through the clouds and snow, asking the occasional question and getting a rudimentary understanding of the controls. About a half hour later they were heading down between the mountain peaks toward a small clearing in front of a vast mountain with an immense metal door. In front of the mountain were a few hundred soldiers lined up to greet them, the Wardens of the Tartarun Gates.

The craft set down, and within a few minutes they were all outside the craft lined up before the Wardens. A slightly larger than average light blue robot marched forward and bowed before Sentinel Prime and Arlon Pax. "My Prime, my lord, welcome to the Tartarun Gates, the Wardens are at your service."

"Rise Lord Commander Kup." The new Prime said with a smile before addressing all of the Wardens. "I thank all of you for this greeting, and want you to know that your efforts and devotion are respected and acknowledged. There are many on our world that view what you do as an archaic and unnecessary tradition based on legends and folklore that cannot possibly be true, but please know that there are those of us who know otherwise. Honorus, Paxus, Magnus, Maximus, Ambus, Solus, Trionic, Modus, Decimus, Machtus, Fluctus, Onyx and Nexus; the Knights of Cybertron were not only founders of the great houses, they were heroes that saved our world and drove the sparkeaters and other evils down into that pit that you all now so vigilantly guard. You serve and honor their memory, and whether the masses know it or not, you protect us all. Please know that you have my most sincere gratitude, and that I hold your order in the highest of esteem." The Wardens applauded him for several moments, and when the applause finally died down, Prime smiled. "I would like my visit to be as minimally disruptive for you as possible. Please return to your tasks."

"Of course Prime." Kup replied before turning and nodding to an important looking robot behind him, who in turn used a hand gesture to disperse the Wardens who returned inside the vase cavern at the base of the mountain. "Please, this way." The group entered the cave, Roller in awe of the sheer scale of it all, a small city carved into the mountain housing the army gathered to protect them all from what was kept far beneath, or so the legend went. He had heard what Sentinel had said, but he had gotten the impression that Sentinel Prime would say whatever needed saying to ensure the devotion of those around him. As they marched through the expanse Kup explained both the history as well as the practical functions of each portion of the vast fortress, walking them all down deeper and deeper, until they reached an enormous metal door. "From this point forward only the Prime, Lord Pax and myself are permitted to continue. The rest of you may return to any other section of the fortress that we've been in and enjoy whatever hospitality that you can find."

Roller chatted with a few members of Prime's entourage, but at seeing Prowl walking across the room in the distance decided to make himself scarce. Arlon was no longer there to protect him, and he was beyond unnerved by the Security Director's interest in Orion. He knew that this interest stemmed from Orion's submission of his theories on the 'Spark Collector' mass murder case; A-Three had chewed Orion out for that the day before, stressing the importance that he avoid attention at all costs. Roller had thought A-Three was being excessive, but his short but intense conversation with Prowl had shown him otherwise. The blue robot transformed and quietly sped away down a hallway and into a non-descript side cavern, where he transformed, sat in the corner and silently accessed his stored lessons in memory and boned up in his class work.

The time passed quickly at first, but after a few hours Roller started getting bored and considered leaving his sanctuary. The sound of a large vehicle approaching from the hallway silenced him, and he shrunk even deeper into the shadows of the dimly lit room. The sound of the vehicle stopping followed by a transformation nearly caused him to panic. He knew it wasn't Prowl, whoever was outside the room was far too big to be Prowl. A moment later he watched the yellow-orange frame of Sentinel Prime enter, turn to look out into the hallway to make sure he wasn't followed, and then raise his wrist to open a communications channel. "Nightbeat, come in."

After several seconds a voice replied. "I'm here sir…I mean your grace."

"How are things progressing with your search?" Prime asked curtly. "I need results soon."

"They are progressing well sir." The voice came back. "I've compiled several potential scenarios as to what could have happened to the Manifest. I might even be able to begin my galactic search by year's end."

"You'll need to be out there physically looking by month's end." Sentinel Prime grumbled.

"Month's end? Sir, your grace, I'm nowhere near that point in the investigation." Nightbeat's apologetic voice came back.

"Then pick up the pace, Detective!" Prime angrily growled into his wrist. "I need it found, and I need it found now. When you head out, be sure to bring whatever you'll need to cut open a corpse. We can figure out how to get the ship and crew back after you return, but I need you to return with the Matrix."

"Sir, why the urgency to recover the Matrix?" Nightbeat asked, his curiosity overwhelming his sense to not further agitate the angered and impatient Prime.

"Just get the damn bauble!" Prime snapped. "Apparently I can't be the 'Prime Who Was Promised' without it."

"What?"

"Never mind!" Prime growled. "Just prove you're worth a damn and finish your assignment!" Sentinel switched off the channel and marched out of the room. Roller listened to the sound of him transforming and speeding away, and waited a few more minutes before crawling out of the corner and tentatively walking toward the doorway, peering down the hall to make sure nobody was there.

"Roller Pax!" Arlon's agitated voice burst through the speaker on his wrist, startling Roller to the point where he jumped.

Roller clumsily raised his wrist to his mouth. "Yes sir?"

"Where are you? We're ready to go!" Arlon snapped.

"Of course sir, I will be with you in a moment." Roller replied before transforming and speeding toward the rest of the group.

Soundwave

Rabattus Decimus was a tedious, arrogant boar, but he was reliable and competent if nothing else. He had yammered the entire way from Harmonex to Kaon about how this gladiatorial circuit was just the start of an underground empire that would give the southern emirates a distinct edge in terms of wealth, resources and influence over those of the north. Soundwave had been sorely tempted to remind Rabattus that Ankmor was a northern emirate, but chose to keep it to himself. Frankly, he was just grateful for the lift. Lightwave was pretty tight with controlling everything going into and out of Harmonex, and to a lesser degree, the entire emirate of Praxus, and he would never approve of Soundwave taking a transport shuttle to Kaon, or anywhere else in the emirate of Polyhex. And were he to find out that Soundwave was connected with this criminal fight club and the gambling ring spawned from it, there would be no limit to his rage. Fortunately Shockwave was very effective at keeping Lightwave focus on him, even if not deliberately.

"I've received rumblings that Militus has a gladiator with the potential to face down Ogrus's juggernaut." Rabattus commented with a smirk. "I personally don't believe there's anyone capable to defeating Grimlock, but if this warrior can go longer than any previous opponent, then we might stand to make a small fortune through some side-betting."

Soundwave nodded. "I will need to see this fighter in action before putting any money on him, especially against the Simfurian."

"Of course, but provided he's as capable as claimed, we should keep what we learn of him to ourselves." Rabattus suggested. "Word of his capabilities getting out would water down our potential windfall."

"Affirmative." Soundwave said as they looked out to seen the approaching landing pad outside Castle Macht, where a rotund robot was waiting to greet them. "It appears that Militus has sent an underling to greet us."

"Always the dismissive elitist." Rabattus chirped, his comment lacking the level of annoyance that Soundwave had expected given how far they had traveled to meet the Emir of Polyhex. "He's too important to meet with us himself, or to even have a member of his House greet us, instead sending…whoever this is. It appears it's true what they say, House Macht considers itself the Honorums of the southern hemisphere; and as a northerner with close ties to House Honorum I can tell you that is pretty damn arrogant."

The craft touched down and a moment later the small red pilot walked into their cabin and nodded respectfully to them as he prepared the door. "We have arrived my lords."

"Thank you Powerglide." Rabattus said to the robot waiting by the door for them. "Please wait here for our return, and remember, no one is to know of this trip."

"Of course my lord." Powerglide replied, bowing his head.

The two nobles walked down the ramp and were approached by the stout robot waiting for them. "Greetings my lords, I am lord Straxus of Fort Scyk and governor of the northeastern quadrant of Stanix. I am here to represent lord Macht, who regrets that he is attending to matters that will delay his meeting you. But I am happy to guide you and answer any questions you may have until he arrives."

"Adequate." Soundwave replied as he turned away from Straxus and marched toward the large decrepit coliseum in the distance.

Rabattus smiled at Straxus and nodded toward Soundwave for them to follow. "I was not aware that Fort Scyk was habitable, nor that Stanix was large enough to section off into quadrants, Lord Straxus."

Straxus endured the slight quietly, and his nearly featureless face likely gave no indication of his anger, Soundwave assumed as he listened to the conversation going on behind him. "Aye, the fort needs a great deal of work, and the section of land is not large, but the gift of it from Lord Macht is still far beyond gracious. I was common born, but through his grace and his faith in me, I am now a noble."

"Ah, I see." Rabattus replied. "Though from what I've heard, it was less about his grace than his rage at House Scykus. Three light tribute payments and they were wiped from the face of Cybertron."

"Lord Macht had nothing to do with the disappearance of House Scykus." Straxus snapped. "Nobody knows what happened to them, only that they vanished without a trace."

"Hmmm, I received word that there were traces of them all over the fort." Rabattus chuckled.

"Whatever befell them was not the work of my Emir, I assure you." The low lord answered impatiently. "But whatever happened to them, their lands and resources were left abandoned, and my lord required capable attendants to govern the quadrants he sectioned Stanix up into. He felt I was one such attendant."

"The northeastern quadrant was the most energon rich section." Soundwave spat out, still marching straight ahead, though his companions were now catching up to him. "I assume you were involved in House Macht's mining operation in some capacity."

"Well, yes, but that has nothing to do with my selection." Straxus responded defensively.

"Of course it didn't." Rabattus chuckled as they reached the coliseum and entered through the large entrance. "Now tell us of what Lord Macht has been doing with our investments down here. I see he's devoted some of it to patching up this old gymnasium."

"Lord Macht has not only renovated this arena into a state of the art training facility, but he has also added barracks for the fighters from your emirates as well as expanded the infirmary to include a surgical center equipped to provide the fighters with the latest upgrades to both armor and press." Straxus answered as they entered the center of the arena and looked upon hundreds of gladiators and trainers all around them sparring and training in other ways. "The armor enhancements for most are sufficient so that they can go all out in unarmed combat without inflicting or sustaining much more than dents." A cry from the far end of the arena followed by the thud of metal landing heavily on metal drew their attention and seemed to contradict what Straxus had just said. "Of course, there are exceptions."

The three traversed the distance to the other side where the sound had come from; where other similar sounds were coming from now. Years before Soundwave had allowed his kinsman Shockwave to examine his spark thoroughly and perform some experimentation on it as well as his frame and brain module regarding unique spark qualities he had found in the examination. Those experiments had led to extreme pain and a long recovery, but ultimately to some abilities; abilities allowing Soundwave to hear virtually imperceptible levels of sound and even some limited mind-reading, traits that Soundwave was using now. 'He's at it again', 'Tarnian shit', 'Don't care what Terminus, Straxus or Militus claim, he's had every enhancement in Rossum's lab', and other comments that intrigued Soundwave all the more about the combatant causing all the painful noises.

A group of eight warriors and three trainers finally came into view, where three of the warriors were on the ground, nursing injuries and/or gingerly climbing back to their feet, another three were cautiously circling around the final warrior, a hulking twenty-four foot tall tarnished silver combatant who casually regarded the remaining three opponents as they studied him for any opening. "Please wait here." Straxus instructed the two visitors and marched directly toward a worn robot that was looking over the sparring session, and given the air of pride he seemed to possess, he was likely the main handler for the lone brutalizer of the group. "Why is he out here?" Straxus hissed at the robot in a tone he thought was low enough for the visitors to hear. "The Emir wanted no outsider to see him yet."

The older robot looked toward their guests and a look of genuine concern came over his face. "I was not told of any visit." He grumbled.

"Yes you were, I told you!" Straxus insisted, though Soundwave could clearly sense that the statement was a lie.

"Really?" The older robot knowingly smirked. "When was that?"

"He didn't tell you, Terminus." The silver warrior announced as he walked away from the other fighters toward their guests, sending a glance toward Straxus that seemed an invitation for him to disagree. Straxus met the gaze but remained silent. The gladiator continued toward the guests and stopped before them. "You two possess the bearing of nobles; perhaps royals." The warrior regarded both Soundwave and Rabattus. "I am Megatron of Tarn, subject of Lord Militus Macht and I am at your disposal provided your requests do not counter the interests of my Emir." The words and the tone were respectful, but the bow traditionally delivered by a commoner addressing nobility was notably absent.

"Megatron of Tarn," Rabattus grinned at the gladiator, "I believe you are the mysterious warrior that Lord Macht has been working so hard to keep under wraps."

Megatron smiled knowingly. "I am not privy to Lord Macht's plans or secrets, I am merely here to fight in service of his house."

"Of course you are." Rabattus replied with a smile. "You recognized that we weren't commoners. Can you guess who we are?" Megatron looked them both over with a subdued smile.

"Ahem." The old trainer, Terminus, cleared his throat, prompting Megatron to turn and look at him. Terminus delivered an indecipherable look to the younger powerhouse, to which looked down at the ground, ponder something for a moment, and raise his optics back up to Terminus. Soundwave couldn't see Megatron's face, but whatever the silent message he gave Terminus, it left the old trainer looking more worried than before.

Megatron turned back toward the royals and looked intently at Rabattus. "It's highly stylized, but you bear an emblem derived from that of House Decimus. With your dark colors, your helmet and other bestial-themed adornments, I would say…no, I know that you are Rabattus, third in line of House Decimus."

"Very good." Rabattus replied, clearly re-evaluating this gladiator. "And my companion?"

Megatron looked into Soundwave's optics for a moment, an act that gave the royal from the emirate of Praxus a chill that ran the length of his frame. The warrior then looked Soundwave's frame up and down for several moments before returning his gaze up at the predominantly blue robot's optics. "You are of House Torrent." Megatron replied. "You are not as overt about displaying your royalty as Rabattus, but the design patterns on much of your non-original frame are Fluctusian."

"You are familiar with Fluctusian art styles?" Rabattus asked, genuinely surprised for once.

Megatron nodded. "I am."

"How is that possible?" Soundwave asked. "You are of common birth."

Megatron regarded him with a look that wasn't threatening or angry, but one that made it clear that he should never be underestimated again. "There are ways for the low-born to educate themselves. Even the lowly streets of Tarn sometimes lead to data depositories. The colleagues of my youth were far more interested in merchandise that could be fenced or mind-altering chemicals, but I chose instead to expand my mind, to see what knowledge could be gained. Though the offerings were limited, I immediately recognized the benefit of studying these data pads. It is there that I became familiar with the legends of The Knights of Cybertron, and of Lord Fluctus's love of the natural and cybernetic aspects of this planet that he incorporated into his artwork. He founded House Torrent, and so much of everything they build incorporates this artwork style in some way, including the additions to their frame."

Straxus walked over to the group. "Lord Macht has also given the gladiators online access to the Castle Macht library, which goes unused by all of these grunts but this one." The low lord glared at Megatron. "I don't know whether it's seeing my ascension to low nobility or the suffix 'tron' in his name, but this one has always had a problem of accepting his station. I apologize for his presumption."

"Nonsense." Rabattus contested. "I asked him questions, he has merely answered them. Though the question of my colleague's identity still remains unanswered."

Megatron looked back at Soundwave. "I mean no disrespect to your house, but from what I've read, the members of House Torrent they are focused primarily on their house's standing and their own personal appearance, with two notable exceptions. Your frame is handsome and well maintained, but there is much room for further adornment, and a faceplate seems out of place for a member of House Torrent. I have read the word 'Cyclops' applied to Shockwave, so I would have to guess you to be Soundwave."

"Excellent!" Rabattus announced as Soundwave nodded at the warrior.

Megatron smiled and looked back to Terminus, who looked more concerned than ever. Soundwave couldn't take it anymore, and tried to pry into the mind of this Megatron. 'I know what Terminus fears, but I will no longer kneel and play dumb for lesser…what, what's in my head?' Soundwave immediately withdrew his prying mind, but Megatron turned his head and glared at him knowingly, the look on his expressive face appearing to be weighing whether to obliterate Soundwave or not. Megatron's facial features slowly shifted to a knowing grin, before he turned away.

"My friend Megatron," Rabattus said through a widening grin, "you've impressed us with your intellect, we were wondering if you could impress us with a display of your physical prowess."

Megatron smiled back and nodded. "Of course my lord." He turned back toward the six gladiators he had been fighting earlier. "Each of you go get a friend and come back."

Prowl

The meeting with the legendary Omega Supreme had clearly not gone well, Prowl thought as he looked upon Sentinel Prime and the scowl etched over his face. Had not Zeta Prime assured him of the Guardian robot's existence, Prowl would have assumed that the giant was as much a myth as the monsters trapped within the bowels of the planet that he was supposedly protecting them all from. Of course, Sentinel had clearly met the giant, and had come back agitated and impatient. Prowl chuckled as he figured the ancient robot probably chastised the new Prime for not seeking him out prior to the inauguration the way that Zeta Decimus had. It wasn't technically law, but in the absence of the Matrix it had been assumed that the individual chosen to be Prime by the Senate also needed to seek out the approval of Omega Supreme, the last living creature to have fought alongside the Knights of Cybertron fifteen millions years before; provided they ever really existed. Sentinel Prime, of course, had gone ahead with the inauguration prior to getting the Guardian's blessing.

Now as they marched through downtown Polarus, Sentinel Prime was required to set aside his scowl and display a forced smile at the people who were out to see and wave to their new leader. Prowl on the other hand was required to keep his senses on full alert because of the new Prime's bravado. Sentinel's announcement of an impromptu stroll through the emirate's capital city without any sort of security preparations was an invitation to anyone who wanted to do anything from harass to flat out kill the new Prime, and given what had happened to Zeta just a few weeks before and that whoever had done it was still at large, the threat was beyond real, and it was Prowl's responsibility to ensure that it didn't happen. Sentinel was going to make Prowl's life harder as Prime than he had as Zeta's Chief of Security.

But if Prime had to pull this shit anywhere, better it be in Polarus than any other large city. True to their name, the Pax's kept the peace better than any other ruling house on the planet, and they did so with the most just and permissive rules for their people. Perhaps they achieved such results because unlike every other ruling house, they were bound by the rules as much as any common citizen, and that they spread their wealth throughout the emirate, providing education and opportunities for advancement to every single denizen of the Torus Heights, much to the consternation of nobles and royals around the planet. Were the climate not so unpleasant and their culture not so isolationist and quirky, commoners from all over Cybertron would likely be pouring over their borders. Even with those things, Polarus seemed to be a city made up primarily of immigrants. A broad mixture of dialects rivaling the melting pots of Iacon, Cybertropolis or other larger and wealthier metropolises, but in a less bustling and far more hospitable, welcoming environment.

But even in this welcoming environment Prowl knew he needed to scout for potential hostilities. He scanned the street intently, and quickly saw cause for concern. A large robot, one almost as large and broad as Sentinel Prime himself stepped out away from the crowd and into the street a couple hundred feet ahead. Prowl immediately recognized the robot, and he and several other guards stepped in front of the Prime, to which the robot simply raised his hands, palms toward them submissively. "Stand down and prepare to be taken into custody!" Prowl announced to the robot, his rifle loosely held and pointed at the large red, orange and gray robot.

"I'm not here to surrender Prowl, merely to talk to the new Prime peacefully and then leave." The robot announced. "He claims to serve the people, all the people, not just the nobility. Let him prove it now and listen to what I have to say. I give my word that him doing so would…"

"You will never speak with the Prime, filth!" Prowl winced as he heard Barricade bellow out next to him. He knew the Autobots would be recording everything that was going on here, and if they weren't broadcasting it live, they would be sending out the recording soon.

"Enough." Prowl admonished his comrade. "Blaster, you are wanted on several outstanding warrants. I can list them off for you now, but in case you would prefer them not being made public to all here and whoever you may be broadcasting these events to," the Head of Security sent looks to all his subordinates as well as one to Prime to make sure they all recognized that their actions were being witnessed, "I am more than willing to use discretion and wait until we're in private before listing them off."

"Graffiti and public mischief is all you have against me." Blaster announced. "Any other charges you may levy against me consist of nothing but trumped up lies. And the graffiti and mischief only occur because there are no legitimate venues for the grievances of the long suffering common people to be aired. Now that he has claimed the same title, legacy and responsibilities as Primon, Prima, Prime Nova and Guardian Prime, I am hoping that Sentinel Prime has a greater empathy for the lowborn classes than Sentinel Honorum displayed, and am giving him this opportunity to prove it."

Prowl felt Sentinel Prime pushing his way to the front and knew he had to do something to calm his leader down. "Prime, wait…" Prowl whispered, trying to stop Sentinel's advance, but the hulking yellow/orange leader ignored him as he pushed his way to the front.

"The commoners have their needs met, they are granted peace and security, and their rights are protected by law and upheld by me, and I take that responsibility very seriously!" Sentinel Prime snapped. "You have a say in who represents you in the Senate,"

"We can vote on one plebian representative, who can represent up to five thousand commoners and has a tenth the vote of a single low noble and a fiftieth of a high noble, all of which can be put aside by the whim of the Emir." Blaster shot out.

"How dare you interrupt me, you Lower Iaconian worm!" Prime roared, causing Prowl to groan quietly. Blaster's dialect made it clear he had been raised in the sub-surface region of Iacon, but the Prime was supposed to be above using someone's origins against them. "I am the Prime! I will not be drawn into a whining session by some common outlaw thug! You chose vandalism and civil disobedience; you will now pay for your crimes!" Prime turned back to Prowl and the others. "Take him!"

"I told you, I'm not here to surrender." Blaster replied, slats in his legs opening to reveal some odd round black devices.

"Get the Prime back!" Prowl ordered as he charged in front of his leader, followed by six other guards.

Just as Prowl and his comrades formed a protective wall, a torrent of sonic waves blasted he and the two officers on either side of him off their feet. The blasts of sounds scrambled some of his inner circuitry, and that damage combined with impacting the metal ground forced disoriented him a few moments before he could register what was happening. He looked up and saw Prime and those closest to him taking fire, causing him to leap to his feet. But he immediately noticed that there was something odd about the assault. The rounds striking them and the area around them weren't cutting, burning or exploding; they didn't seem to be metal, explosive or energy rounds, they were globs of some darkly colored adhesive. "Tar bombs!" Prowl muttered, his attempt to call out the weapon that was being used against them came out as barely more than a whisper. He struggled to run forward and aid his leader, but a large ball of the sticky black ooze slammed into his leg and the ground around it, pinning it there. It would be minutes before he could work his way out of the adhesive, and in all likelihood he'd be hit by a few more balls by that point. But as debilitating as these balls could be, they were not meant to kill or even injure, which Prowl needed to make Prime aware of before he retaliated with the vast arsenal he kept housed within certain sections of his frame. Prowl realized the likely aim was to prompt a response utilizing excessive and unjustified force from the Prime and his entourage, a retaliation that he was already certain was being recorded and likely broadcast live or would be within seconds of the events unfolding. He had to protect Sentinel Prime, and not just from the Autobots, but from his own temper and those guards eager to cut commoners possessing the gall to buck the system to pieces.

His fears were realized as Prowl watched his comrades open fire at Blaster and into the buildings where the tar bombs seemed to be originating from. Sentinel drew a rifle the size of his leg that had been strapped to his back and opened fire as well, forcing Blaster to sprint toward an alley and dive for cover. "You have my attention now, Blaster!" Prime roared as he continued firing while marching toward the opening of the alley as Prowl started to tear out of the tar. "Come out and let's discuss your rights!"

A large ball of tar flew out from a rooftop and slammed him in his head, sending him stumbling over and nearly falling. At that moment Blaster flipped out from the alley and blasted sonic wave's from the weapons in his legs that knocked Prime back and to the ground. "We didn't want this Prime, it was only supposed to be talking! You came at us, we're just defending ourselves!"

"He's assaulting the Prime!" Prowl heard Flatfoot cry out as he charged weapon firing at the large red and orange Autobot. "Die lowborn shit!" Blaster took a few rounds to his torso before falling back into the alley. Flatfoot continued marching forward as Prowl got to Prime, noting that he was uninjured, but incensed. Their attention was shifted up toward the roof where the tar bomb that hit Prime had originated from, where a cry and a pair of bodies were coming over it and falling to the ground. A large red and blue robot was gripping a mid-sized predominantly white robot, one Prowl recognized as the suspected Autobot Jazz, and falling down to the sidewalk below, but the red robot planted his foot on a light pole and used it to slow their descent and spring out to land in the middle of the street. He slammed Jazz down, ripped his tar-canon out of his hands and slammed his blue fist into the Autobot's face, knocking him out cold with a large dent in his cheek.

The newcomer looked up, Prowl, who was typically so good at knowing all the potential players, had no idea of who he was, but he had continued from the fall as if it were just a normal step and handled the large canon with the ease that Prowl would handle a pistol. "Get the Prime inside Snowfall Café! Constables, determine who are civilians and direct them off of the street! House Pax, with me!" The robot called out with an authority in his voice that as far as Prowl knew he did not possess, but despite this, all local constables and every member of the House Pax security detail immediately did as he instructed. The Pax guards swarmed behind him, not even bothering to look to any of the Primal Guard for any sort of instruction or input, instead following this unknown individual without question. "There are snipers on the roofs of Malnax's Washhouse, Bonarus's Shell Design, and in the fourth floor window of the Savings and Loan! All appear to be armed with these tar canons, I have yet to see anything remotely lethal, so they are not to be taken down with extreme prejudice unless you see a more serious weapon! I repeat, lethal force or any undue brutality is NOT to be employed unless the situation changes from what we've seen thus far! Impactor, take your squad and clear Malnax's! Roadbuster, take your squad and clear Bonarus's! Inferno, the Savings and Loan!" The newcomer marched toward the alley. "I've got their leader!"

"You've got shit, elitist!" Several Autobots poured out of the buildings that the red and blue robot had identified as their hiding spots and opened fire on the advancing Pax guards. The one who yelled out, who Prowl knew as the suspected Autobot Trailbreaker, began firing his tar canon at them as he and his comrades also made their way to Blaster's position, presumably to rescue him.

"We have no issue with House Pax!" Prowl was a little surprised to see the scientist known as Perceptor operating with the Autobots, but his surprise had to be dismissed for the moment as he watched his comrades hustling the Prime into the café, against his will from the sounds of it.

"And I have no issue with the Autobot philosophies and goals, but you bring violence to the streets of Polarus!" The red robot replied. "You endanger civilians, and confront the Prime with the clear goal of goading him into a violent confrontation!" Trailbreaker fired a shot directly at this robot, who raised his canon to block the shot. The glob of tar wrapped around the cannon and a small part of the robot's forearm, but the robot merely whipped the canon at Trailbreaker, the tar tearing from his arm with ease and the goop-covered canon slamming the black Autobot in the chest and sending him to the ground.

Perceptor fired another shot at this robot, who blocked it with his left hand. The glob covered nearly his entire forearm, but once again the robot flung his arm with enough force to send the dark ball of goop flying back toward Perceptor, hitting him in the face and sending his tar-covered frame crashing to the ground. Eight more Autobots charged ahead to intercept this robot and his companions. The Pax detail got five of them and used their training and superior numbers to take them down with ease, but three made it to the red robot and attacked him hand to hand. Prowl watched the battle unfold, and recognized the moves to be nothing more than basic police hand to hand combat moves, but the speed and power at the disposal of this robot was such that even against the most skilled gladiators, these basic moves would have been more than enough. In mere seconds the three Autobots were completely incapacitated and the robot marched into the alley and carried out Blaster, using a level of delicacy that seemed at odds given that he was taking the robot into custody. The red robot then looked at Blaster as he laid him down. "I apologize, but this is necessary." With that the robot punched through each of the sonic weapons on Blaster's legs, but seemed to keep the pain and damage to walking function to a minimum.

Prowl approached the two robots quickly, but felt two forms brush past him. He watched as Barricade and Flatfoot, with rifles drawn, ran toward the injured and subdued Blaster, with what Prowl knew to be intent to kill. The newcomer saw them approaching as well, and positioned himself between them and the prisoner. "Halt! The suspect has been subdued and is unarmed!"

"Move Frosty, this is for planetary security!" Barricade snarled.

"No!" The other robot stood his ground against the two well-armed Primal Guards. "He will be arrested and tried in a court, you will do nothing more to him!"

"Oh, and who's going to stop us?" Flatfoot asked angrily. "You?"

"Yes I am." The robot replied, causing both guards to raise their weapons at him. Flatfoot fired, but the robot amazingly twisted out of the way to avoid it. Barricade's shot came a moment later and struck the robot in the abdomen, but the round elicited nothing more than a grunt. The robot then lurched forward and hammered Barricade to the ground with a right cross, then twisted and backhanded Flatfoot. Barricade was out, Flatfoot flew back and hit the wall of a building behind him, but remained conscious; at least until the red robot followed after him and hammered him with another right cross. The two guards were laid out unconscious on the ground as Prowl approached. The robot twisted and glared at him. "Back off! No further harm is to come to the prisoner!"

"You back off!" Prowl snapped. "I appreciate your assistance, but I'm in charge here!"

"I'm still a bit green, but I'm pretty sure you're in line behind Sentinel Prime and Arlon Pax." The robot shot back. "I can't speak for the Prime, but there's no way Lord Pax would allow someone to be murdered in cold fluid, even by the Primal Guard. So you back off!"

"Enough!" The roar forced the two to turn toward the advancing Arlon Pax, with Roler Pax next to him. "The constable is correct, there will be no killing in my streets."

"Constable?" Prowl questioned. "I've familiarized myself with the dossiers of all law enforcement in the Torus Heights, and I don't recognize this individual."

Arlon paused, the slightest hint of nervousness coming over his bestial face. "You OK Orion?" Roller asked the robot, unaware of Arlon's desire to keep as much from Prowl as possible. Prowl's gaze spun back toward the youth in question, staring at both his face and then the scorches and dents on his abdomen that should have been vastly more damaged. Frankly, while the rifle Barricade used wasn't the most powerful of weapons, at that range the round should not only have penetrated this Orion's dermal plating, but cut through much of his inner workings. As far as Prowl could tell, the youth did not have any sort of armor enhancements, yet all that was left of the shot was a small dent and scorching.

"I'm quite fine Lord Pax, thank you for your concern." Orion replied, bowing his head.

"Lord P…"a confused Roller started to ask, but then looked at Prowl and nodded, "ah, right." He looked back at Orion, a grin he was trying to subdue forming on his face. "Hopefully somebody recorded that, you really need to see what you did."

"Don't worry my lord," Blaster replied through his pain, "all that transpired here today was recorded and is being viewed by everyone on Cybertron as we speak." The large red robot turned and looked down the street to see a yellow feline form sprinting away. "Your friend will be a hero, and the Prime will be revealed to be the brutal elitist he truly is."

Prowl ground his teeth as he drew his pistol and leveled it at the yellow form darting away, while at the same time opening a communications channel. "Eject, please tell me you followed my orders and placed a transmission jam around us".

A voice came back through his wrist. "I've been expecting your call sir. An immensely strong signal has been trying to push past the barriers we have in place. It's holding for now, but it seems that the origin of the broadcast is putting distance between it and your party. I won't be able to keep it contained for much longer."

"You won't have to." Prowl replied, firing a shot. The round caught the feline in the rear right haunch, causing it to tumble to the ground. Prowl then turned to several Primal Guards who were running forward, followed closely by Sentinel Prime. "Go apprehend that feralitron." He then looked to Prime. "I've got Blaster."

Blaster looked up at the Prime. "It's unfortunate for you that I was captured in the presence of Arlon Pax. Had we been anywhere else you'd have been able to kill me."

Sentinel Prime stared back at him with a grin. "Had we been anywhere else I doubt you'd have pulled this ill-conceived joke of an attack."

"It was never meant to be an attack, merely a forced meeting that we knew would lead to you exposing yourself as the unfit leader you truly are." Blaster spat, looking up at Orion. "And we'd have been successful had we not overlooked this one Polarus cop."

"He's not a cop." Prowl said as he started placing shackles on Blaster. "Not yet, anyway. Just a kid volunteering for the Constabulary." He looked up at Sentinel. "Prime, this is the individual that solved the Spark Collector case."

Sentinel Prime looked down at the youth and smiled broadly. "A super-athlete and a genius as well."

Orion bowed his head. "Neither sir, just a hard worker trying to help."

"He also beat the hell out of Barricade and Flatfoot, your grace." Another Primal Guard stated to Prime.

"I suggest you let that issue drop and be forgotten." Arlon growled threateningly. "The lad most definitely was in the right and I will testify to the highest power of that fact."

"It is forgotten." Prime said, studying the youth. "I am curious as to his post-protoformal test performance."

Arlon shifted uneasily. "I will see if we can find them."