Bumblebee did not even raise his helm when he felt sharp clawed servos wrap around him and lift him up. He kept his helm lowered, staring at the rocky ground below as he was flown overhead. He closed his optics, for a moment, wishing that he could go to sleep and wake up with this all being nothing but a cruel nightmare.
The clawed servos released him, and he plummeted to the ground. The ground met him seconds later, and Bumblebee's optics snapped open and he rolled to the ground before leaping to his pedes.
Dust swirled around him as Predaking landed before him, transforming once more into a mech. His golden optics narrowed as he regarded Bumblebee.
"Transform," he ordered.
"I know the drill," Bumblebee huffed. He straightened up, clenching his servos into fists. His optics fluttered closed as he struggled to activate his transformation. He felt his armor shift and form into an unnatural shape.
A low growl escaped his mouth, and he blinked his optics to survey his surroundings. He steadied himself on his newly formed claws, wings beating frantically for balance, yet he tensed up and forced himself to remain still.
"Exemplary," he heard Predaking say. Bumblebee focused his gaze on the mech, who was still in Cybertronian form. Bumblebee narrowed his optics, his fanged mouth clenching. It would be so easy to rush forward and snap Predaking's neck, or melt him into a pile of useless metal with the very fire Bumblebee felt building up inside of him.
Before Bumblebee could take even one step forward, he was thrown to the ground by Predaking himself who had leaped at him with such ease and swiftness. The predacon had rapidly transformed as he had rushed at Bumblebee, shoving his helm into the ground, forcing submission.
"Don't even think about it," Predaking growled into his audio receptor, the gurgled sounds and growls understood by Bumblebee. He let out a startled gasp when the meshed up sounds made sense to him. "I am the king around here, and I shall not be dethroned."
Bumblebee huffed, muscles straining against the hold he was trapped in. He could not form words to snap back, so he resorted to just growling in defiance.
Predaking shoved back, his predacon form regarding Bumblebee as he shakily arose on his clawed pedes. Bumblebee kept his helm lowered, though he regarded Predaking with narrowed optics, contempt filling him. Now what was he to do? He had been able to transform into his predacon form days ago, after much severe beatings and nearly fatal moments. But now that it was established that he could transform, what was he to do now?
He tilted his helm upward, looking for a way to escape. Now that he had wings, it would be easy for him to escape, possibly get help to find Smokescreen and Firestar and see if anyone else was being held prisoner.
He launched into the air without a second thought, wings flapping madly. He flew upward, heading for the source of light in the small space. His relief at near escape was so strong that it did not occur to him that Predaking was not pursuing him.
His relief was shocked out of him, literally as electric waves flew through him from the hidden security systems in the ceiling. He let out a screech of pain, wings freezing as he fell to the ground. He landed in aheap at Predaking's pedes, letting out a pained whimper.
He should have known it wouldn't have been so easy.
The sound of wings flapping barely caught his attention, though the sound of one transforming caused his optics to flicker over to watch as a dark mech transformed out of his beast mode. The mech was smirking in amusement as he regarded Bumblebee.
"Tried, and failed to escape, didn't he?" the mech asked with a smug sneer as he approached Predaking.
Predaking transformed to frown at the other mech. "You have no right to be here, Darksteel." The implied threat in hsi tone caught Bumblebee's attention, and he froze as he regarded the two interact.
"I have every right," Darksteel responded. "Antagony sent me here."
Predaking bristled, and Bumblebee latched onto that little bit of information he was given. Was that the name for the crazy femme?
"Why should she send you here?" he demanded harshly.
Darksteel shrugged. "To reunite the others. My charge was too slow, so I hurried on ahead. Right now he's clumsily flapping through the halls."
"Or scrambling for an exit," Predaking snapped, irritated.
No sooner had the words left his mouth then did three more predacons descend from the air with mighty wingbeats. One predacon was being dragged by a much larger one as shrieks and growls escaped its mouth, while another followed submissively behind. The one being held was thrown to the ground not too far from Bumblebee.
"Ah," Darksteel said as he approached the groaning, red predacon. "I was starting to wonder if you were lost."
The red predacon only snarled, fangs showing as she clawed and scratched at the ground. But Darksteel did not seem fazeed by the threatening action.
"Antagony wants the newbies to reunite," the silver and blue predacon said, having transformed into his mech form. He snorted, gesturing his helm towards the smaller, white predacon who seemed to slink in the shadows, wanting to go unseen. "Can't imagine why though. She never extended such mercies to us."
"That was because I could care less what happened to you!" Darksteel exclaimed, glaring at the other transformed predacon.
Ignoring the two quarreling predacons, Predaking strode toward Bumblebee who had yet to move. "Transform," he ordered.
Bumblebee struggled into what he assumed was a sitting position, sitting back on his hunches. Transforming should not have taken much thought. It was much like breathing, or reaching for a drink; it was done naturally or subconsciously. Yet this new body was strange, and Bumblebee had yet to adapt to such a violent change.
He closed his optics, praying that he would transform. His wings quaked in anticipation, yet not even a plating on his beastly armor changed. His breathing grew frantic, his optics wide with horror. He looked at Predaking helplessly.
"I can't!" he squeaked, clucked noises coming from his mouth. Primus, would he be trapped in this body forever?
Predaking's optics narrowed, and just as Bumblebee feared, he transformed. He leaped on top of Bumblebee before the mech had a chance to scramble away, pinning him to the ground. The two transformed predacons stepped forward eagerly, but Predaking just snarled at them. "He's mine!"
Bumblebee hated his weakness and despised his body for betraying him. He trembled as Predaking opened his mouth and latched onto Bumblebee's neck, lifting him up like a youngling. Bumblebee let out a startled squeak, his tail and hindquarters being dragged on the floor as Predaking carried him to the far side of the room.
Predaking set him down before stepping back and sitting close, gold optics lided. If Bumblebee had to guess, he would assume that Predaking was sleeping. Bumblebee sat up curiously, cocking his helm.
"W-what…" he clucked, grimacing at the awkward clicking and low growls that escaped his mouth. "What is happening?"
"You are communicating," Predaking responded, as if it were obvious. He cracked open an optic. "You sound like a sparkling. Spare me the headache and shut up."
Bumblebee looked around wildly, noticing the four predacons scattered about. The small, red one was still snarling and laying on the ground, threatening Darksteel. The other small, white predacon was still hovering in the shadows, a picture of submission.
Yet Bumblebee saw the way the small, white predacon's optics flickered around, analyzing and studying everything. While he gave off the illusion of a desperate prisoner, he was in fact a prowling predator. He was watching everything, taking everything in.
Bumblebee released a shaky breath, optics flickering to the two smaller predacons. One was openly defying and fighting their captors, while one was hiding in the distance, watching and gathering intel.
Bumblebee needed to be somewhere in between.
He needed to gather answers. Going about doing it in a different, subtle way would mean he would have to, not exactly play the social game as some would say, but to attempt to create a situation that would put him on speaking terms between himself and his captors.
His racing spark calmed down with the presentation of a mission and a purpose. He could still escape, he just needed to proceed with caution.
He hesitantly placed his claws in front of him before sliding down, his wings draped over him as if he intended to rest. Predaking's optics were still closed, yet from the twitch of his tail, Bumblebee could tell he was awake and aware of everything.
"Why am I unable to transform?" Bumblebee asked.
"You will be unable to for several days, if not weeks," came the short answer.
Bumblebee felt concern well up inside of him, yet he tried not to overreact. "Why?"
"So you can get used to your form and learn your place for Antagony's purpose," Predaking said.
There was that name again. No doubt, it was that femme who was responsible for all of this. "What is my purpose?" Bumblebee asked. "How am I to perform what is expected of me?"
"Wrong question," Predaking said.
Bumblebee narrowed his optics at the infuriating reply he received. "Alright. What am I to expect now that I am one of your kind?"
Predaking finally opened one optic to regard him with smugness. "Now we are getting somewhere."
Arcee felt her neck cables creak from the strain of hovering over the table for so long. She winced, yet tried to hide the expression as she rubbed her neck. When that did little to ease the pain, she rolled her shoulders, feeling the cables pop and groan. It was a sweet, painful relief.
"Maybe you should take a break," Ark commented, looking up from the datapad she was overseeing.
"When I am finished," Arcee commented, optics flickering back and forth to the corpse on the table and the evidence right next to her.
"Take a break," Ark ordered, her voice firm.
Arcee leveled her gaze to glare at the dark Decepticon, who met her charge's gaze unflinching.
"What more are you hoping to find?" Moonracer asked, her voice breaking the silence. Arcee turned her gaze away from Ark to regard the only Autobot in the room.
Moonracer quickly looked down to the datapad Knock Out had previously offered her. "Arcee," she said finally. "We have been at this for days, what are you looking for?"
"I am not sure," Arcee muttered, looking down. Moonracer's words brought the horrible reality crashing down on her. It had been nearly a week of observing the dead, or what was left of them. The acid rain had damaged the first body, but those they had previously tried and failed to save were mauled beyond recognition.
"Then what do you see?" Moonracer asked.
Arcee frowned. She pointed to the body in front of her. "They were not attacked by mere Cybertronians. There are no blaster bolts, knife cuts, or fist marks."
Knock Out snorted. "I could have told you that."
"Speaking my mind helps me think," Arcee snapped. "If you do not like it, you can leave."
"What else?" Ark prodded, ignoring the doctor and staring at Arcee.
"Could they have been attacked by non Cybertronians?" Moonracer asked. "Like...scraplets?"
"The markings are all wrong," Arcee said.
"Besides," Knock Out interrupted. "If they were attacked by scraplets, we would not have any bodies to examine. I have seen Cybertronians consumed alive by the little pit spawns." He shuddered. "Dangerous to the paint job; they leave nothing untouched."
"And if there was a scraplet nest anywhere near the Selecteds, the hunt would have been relocated," Arcee commented. "I ruled out that theory on day one." She looked up, glancing at Shockwave who was examining another body nearby. "Speaking of the hunt…"
"I have already gathered a list of those attending the hunt on that fateful day," Shockwave said, catching on immediately to her subtle probing. The scientist had not said much, only performed his work in silence while offering results. As Arcee glanced at him, she noticed a subtle, almost hidden object near his work station. It was a delicate, colorful art piece that stood out in the dark lab. It was formed much like that of a crystal, reminding Arcee of the crystal gardens Bumblebee had taken her to. Such memories was painful, and she dared not dwell on them much.
"Both Selecteds and escorts alike; Autobot and Decepticons," Shockwave continued, unaware of Arcee's tortured thoughts.
"I have reviewed them as well," Ark said, casting Arcee another thoughtful look. "I am assuming you did so as well. What are you getting at?"
"First off," Arcee stated as she flipped through the datapad. "How can we be sure that everyone perished during the attack? The acid rain destroyed all evidence we might have obtained, and we have only been able to assume that there were no survivors."
Knock Out rolled his optics. "It is like you said: the acid rain destroyed all evidence. The bodies left out there were destroyed. No one was able to collect the bodies without endangering themselves. If there were any survivors, the rain killed them."
"Yet nothing was gathered?" Arcee demanded. "The acid rain is not like the scraplets. There had to be some manner of evidence left behind."
Knock Out hesitated. "Well, bits of armor plating and rusted body parts were collected," he admitted.
"I want the names of the owners of the armor plating and everything else," Arcee said. "It will not give us an exact number of the bodies found, but it will give me more pieces of the puzzle. What of the hostilities in the area?"
"It would be highly illogical to schedule a hunt near any potential terrorist bunkers," Shockwave commented.
"I am not talking about the hideouts," she answered. "It is no secret that there have been frequent attacks and rebels scattered about. Who is the most active? I want those names."
"I would have thought you would have received such information a while ago," Ark commented.
"So did I," Arcee said with a knowing frown, gaze flickering back over to Shockwave. "Yet here I am, repeating my request to Megatron. He has yet to give me an answer."
Moonracer's optics widened at what Arcee was implying, but Arcee rushed on. "This should at least shed some light on what we are up against."
"Well," Knock Out huffed as he sat back in his seat, propping his pedes on a small table that was clear of pointy tools. "If I were you, I would not only collect a list of those attending the hunt, but also of those who organized the hunt."
Arcee narrowed her optics. "What do you mean?"
Knock Out shrugged, giving off the illusion of one who was not interested, though the gleam in his optics suggested otherwise. "Who organized the hunt? Who suggested the hunt? Who led the sport and who supplied the weapons for said sport?" He looked upward. "Might be something of use."
As reluctant as she was to admit it, Knock Out presented a good point. A quick look at Ark showed that the femme was aware of Arcee's unspoken request and was writing down the needed information.
"Also," Knock Out said as he casually got up and strode toward one of the bodies. He pulled back the sheet to reveal the damaged and burnt armor of the body. "While you are correct that these gash marks could not have been made by a mere blade, what of a cleaver? I have known some crazy Decepticons," here, he chuckled fondly, "who have replaced their very servos with sharp weapons. However, the sudden replacement would make it much more difficult to perform the simplest of tasks."
"What are you getting at, Knock Out?" Arcee demanded.
"What I am getting at is that a Cybertronian with blades applied to their servos, take Starscream's hideous manicure for instance, could easily create such puncuters to the unfortunate victims," he said. He hummed, placing a servo under his chin. "Although I will admit that these puncture marks are rather large for a normal sized Cybertronian to inflict."
"What if they were a combiner?" Moonracer voiced. "A combiner could very well inflict such damage."
"If that were the case, then simply shooting or squishing their victims would have been the easiest way to annihilate all in their path," Arcee commented. "To puncture someone with such lethal force means getting within a very personal proximity of their enemy."
"Yet these are not simple puncture marks," Ark commented, nudging a scowling Knock Out aside and lifting the mauled armor with a protected servo. Even Arcee winced at her forwardness with the body. "They were clawed at, not simply punctured. These cuts go deep, traveling up and down with skill."
"All the precious fluids and parts would have been damaged beyond repair, or come gushing out," Knock Out stated with a slight pride in his voice that disturbed Arcee slightly.
"What of the burns?" Moonracer asked, catching everyone's attention. "The bodies have been heavily burnt," she stated. "Was someone carrying a blow torch?"
"They certainly were not burned to death," Arcee commented. "The heat did not kill them."
"But the impact of the bodies hitting the ground did," Knock Out stated. He huffed at the surprised looks everyone gave him. "Oh come on! Someone lifted the Cybertronians and dropped them from the sky! The insides of some of the bodies is dislodged greatly, some even shattered. Sure sign of being dropped from a great height."
"So, we are looking for seekers," Moonracer commented.
"A whole lot of seekers," Arcee commented. "It would take at least three seekers to lift a small Cybertronian in vehicle mode. If that was the case, then why not shoot them?"
"So, someone who can fly, someone with sharp blades, and someone with a flamethrower," Knock Out mused. "Well, the answer for today seems obvious."
Arcee frowned. "No, really, do tell us what your grand theory of the day is."
"That we will not find an answer for today!" he exclaimed in disgust. "And certainly not in here surrounded by bodies! I mean, do not get me wrong, I love spending time with you lovely ladies with a bunch of bodies on metal slabs. But you will not find anything more in them."
"I will be dispatching someone to find any leads on knife servoed Cybertronians," Arcee stated with calm exasperation. "We will need to look into surveillance."
"You know who would be good at that?" Knock Out said with a smug look. "Soundwave."
"Ark can speak to him about that," Arcee replied swiftly.
"He will listen to you," Ark challenged.
"Yes, he will indeed," Arcee said as she closed the datapad with a firm snap. "It is such a shame that I will not have the time to speak with him."
Ark's optics narrowed. "And where will you be going?"
"I am going back to the scene of the crime," Arcee stated with a smirk. "And Moonracer shall come with me." She ignored Moonracer's startled look as she strode out of the room. "Be prepared to rise up with the sun," Arcee called over her shoulder. "We will be leaving quite early."