Author's Note: In response to Airreon Princess, yes, I am updating much sooner then you think! ;) And can you believe that this story is almost a year old? *Gasp* That was brought to my attention by asalmafsal996. Also, thank you to Sentinel Warpath, Klenda, RoboDiamondDragon09, and everyone else who has been reading and reviewing! You're all so amazing and God Bless!
Bumblebee kept his helm lowered, staring at the dark floor with an air of weakness around him. Yet, his spark was still racing with the past two hours of the day. He moved his servos, trying to get the energon flowing through them, but it was a useless effort against the tight chanis that kept him pinned to the wall.
He glanced over at Smokescreen who was chained to his left. The white mech, like Bumblebee, had his helm down, though his optics were bright and alert.
"Nest of scraplets?" Bumblebee hissed, his mouth forming into an amused grin.
Smokescreen grinned back. "Well, an abandoned scraplet nest." He paused. "At least, that is what Prowl suspected it to be when he found me."
Bumblebee nodded. "Ah." He had never heard such a tail from his friend, and he had not known how Smokescreen came to be found by Prowl. But a bit of a truth into the lie made it harder to disprove.
"What are we doing here?" Smokescreen asked, lifting his helm up to survey the area they were brought in.
"They will question us," Firestar answered. "Again." She sighed and leaned her helm back against the wall she was chained to, closing her optics. But she reopened them once more to glance at them. "That was some stunt you all pulled."
Bumblebee shrugged. "Hey, it created chaos and confusion, and I was not letting you hog up all of Antagony's time. Better that they are left guessing who the Heir is."
"What was the point of you proclaiming that you were the Heir?" Smokescreen demanded, staring at Firestar. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"
"Predaking sees himself as a king, a leader of sorts over the predacons," she answered. "He does not want to help us escape."
"He wants to keep us under his wing so that he can gather the numbers," Bumblebee answered, sitting back with a grim expression. "I suspected as much."
Firestar nodded. "He would never have let us go. While his treatment towards us would have been less severe, I for one do not want to stay as a predacon under his rule."
"So how is us landing in a stinky cell any better?" Smokescreen demanded.
"We could talk," Bumblebee stated. "Everything Predaking told me, told us, could be at Antagony's fingers. Predaking could be compromised, and he knows it."
Smokescreen shifted around. "Still don't see how that is going to help our current situation," he grumbled. "Any moment, we are going to be questioned, possibly be put through a cortical psychic patch."
"The last part seems unlikely," Bumblebee stated. He just hoped Arcee had understood his message. If not, then the truth about the Heir would come out much sooner than he would have liked.
The sideways glance Smokescreen sent him showed that the white mech was hoping for the same thing.
"Should we try to bust our way out of this?" Firestar asked.
"Such an action would only force some of us to stay behind," Bumblebee stated. He looked up at her with narrowed optics. "And that is not going to happen. No one is getting left behind."
Firestar just stared at him, not breaking her stare from him. Everyone looked up sharply at the sound of a metal door opening. Light flooded in, nearly blinding them all. Bumblebee blinked as his optics, which had grown accustomed to the dark, as he noticed a figure enter the room.
Antagony smiled at them, her staff clutched loosely and in a casual manner in her servo. "Such a lovely conversation you all were having," she said. "Now, you caused quite a disturbance amongst my pets, and there is a rumor going around that you," she pointed at Firestar. "Are the Heir."
Firestar stiffened up, a move that was copied by both Smokescreen and Bumblebee.
"Or it could be you," she said, pointing at Smokescreen who scowled at her. "Or you!" she said, pointing at Bumblebee.
"Bingo," Bumblebee said with a raised optic ridge.
"Oh!" she said, pulling back with a laugh. "You like to talk back, don't you?"
"Well, I am not exactly courteous towards those who kidnap, torture and turn me into a predacon," he answered. "I just might complain about the terrible service to the manager who runs this establishment."
Antagony smirked as she stalked towards him. Her thin, sharp finger traced his neck, the exact spot where that listening, torture device was. He recoiled back from her touch, but the wall that held him captive prevented him from going any further.
"I like you," she said suddenly. "In fact, I like you all." She looked around the room with a pout. "But, Sentinel want's me to give one of you up. I don't get to chose, which is not fair. Sentinel wants the Heir to the Autobots for his own purposes."
"Killing the Autobot Heir will hardly stop the treaty," Smokescreen stated.
Antagony laughed. "You think this is all about the treaty? My poor thing, we hardly care about that." Her optics grew hard. "The war created heroes, and monsters. Some hide in the dark while others bask in the light. Weapons and relics that are known to a select few are hidden from sight, and it is those that we covet."
"The Key," Bumblebee said suddenly in understanding, looking up in shock. "Sentinel wants to be a Prime."
Antagony giggled, and it was then that Bumblebee wished he had not spoken. "Darling, he was a Prime. But he is not the Prime Cybertron looks to anymore. The Matrix resides with another."
"But with the Key, he could possess all that the Matrix holds," Firestar said. Her servos curled into fists. "Primus made his choice, and it is not Sentinel's place to decide who holds the Matrix."
"And who cares if another war erupts during his mae dash to achieve the Key?" Smokescreen growled, hatred in his optics. "He could rise again as Cybertron's savior with the knowledge of the Primes, with all of Cybertron's hope dead and at his pedes."
"Precisely," Antagony thrilled. "You are a smart bunch!"
"Which is more than I can say for you," Bumblebee muttered. His words clogged up inside of him as the device on his voice box sent electric waves running through him. He struggled against the bonds that held him captive as pain, an old companion now, surged through him. The sounds of his screams mixed with Smokescreen's and Firestar's desperate calls to him, yet it did nothing to ease his pain.
When the pain mercifully came to an end, he slumped against the wall, the chains keeping him up as he panted. His entire body shook, and he felt an ache build up from his voice box to his entire chassis.
"Talking back will only get you so far," Antagony said coldly. There was no hint of mad laughter in her voice, yet the madness in her optics was still there. "But since you like to talk so much, why don't you tell me who the Heir is?"
"Me," Firestar said.
"Me," Smokescreen declared.
"Me," Bumblebee echoed, looking up at her with narrowed optics.
Antagony pulled back with a scowl. "Very well then," she said, twirling her staff that thrummed to life with electricity. "It looks like we will be here for a while."
"Your deviousness truly disturbs me," Prowl stated with a frown, though he could not deny that his spark pulsed with relief from the news he had just received.
"Thank you," Megatron said simply.
"And how long were you planning on keeping this from us?" Jazz demanded. "Or were you planning on presenting it to us as a wedding present when the Heirs bonded?"
"I was planning on telling you when it mattered," Megatron answered simply.
"In other words, never," Jazz grumbled. He looked like he wished to say more, but Optimus's voice cut him off.
"Megatron, I assume you have a fail safe for this?" Optimus stated. "If we wish to get to the bottom of this and to maintain this fragile peace, then it is best that you come forward with all your secrets."
"What other beasts are you hiding?" Jazz growled.
"Project Predacon was terminated long before I met with Optimus about a possible peace," Megatron said, turning his red glare on Jazz. "However, that does not mean that others have tried to continue Shockwave's previous works."
"Where is that one optic freak now?" Jazz demanded. Prowl closed his optics to try and ward off the helm ache. He resisted sighing at Jazz's brash behavior towards the Decepticons. He knew it had been a poor choice to include Jazz in on this, but the sudden news Megatron had for all of them had shocked everyone to the core.
"Is there a chance that Shockwave placed a weakness into the predacons?" Prowl asked, opening his optics.
Megatron scoffed. "This was during the war. Shockwave dd not sabotage his own work when the cause of the Decepticons relied on him."
"What of the cortical psychic patch?" Optimus asked. "This...information that you had obtained, have you dealt with the warnings?"
"The cortical psychic patch has been dismantled, and is under heavy guard," Megatron stated. "But it has come to my attention that one of my Decepticons had questioned you about a certain relic."
Optimus stared at him. "You were informed correctly." He said no more, and even Prowl could tell that the Prime was not going to say anything more on the matter. The Key to Vector Sigma was a heavily guarded secret. Prowl had voiced his misgivings when Optimus had given it to Bumblebee, but the young mech had proven himself just as trustworthy, and Prowl's misgivings had slowly vanished over the years.
Now, the Key was in danger of being stolen and used against them. Prowl was both alarmed and relieved when Optimus had declared to his inner circle of handing it over to Ratchet to guard.
"And these beasts that attacked your Heir and her fellow companions?" Jazz stated with a frown. "You could not locate them despite the fact that Soundwave was there?"
Prowl's optics flickered over to Soundwave, who was casually leaning up against the wall. It did not go unnoticed by Prowl how Megatron glanced at Soundwave, a smirk tugging at his mouth. Prowl narrowed his optics at the silent exchange, and it was then he noticed Soundwave's empty chassis.
The exact spot his minicon usually resided.
His optics widened, and he found himself speaking before he could stop himself.
"Where is Laserbeak?" he demanded.
Megatron's grin grew into a smirk. "Locating the beasts, even as we speak." He leaned back. "There is always a fail safe for everything I do. The horror of pain and fire could not stop Soundwave from performing his duties in the moment of battle."
"Let's not jump to conclusions," Ark stated quickly.
"Lets," KnockOut said with a smirk. "I never liked that traitorous mech in the first place."
"Watch your tone," Moonracer snapped, glaring at him. "You may not like him, but he is still a-"
"A what?" KnockOut countered. "An Autobot?" He scoffed, glancing at Ark. "Darling, don't you remember our little talk about the double agents? Both sides would not divulge such information to each other to protect the double crossers."
"No," Moonracer breathed, though there was uncertainty in her optics. "KnockOut, that is a serious charge you are talking about. To accuse Sentinel of not only being a traitor during the war, but to be involved in the attacks is-"
"Too high?" KnockOut asked. He shrugged. "Megatron could tell you more than I ever could. After all, it's not like I was there during the war." He stopped talking and placed a hand on his hips. "Oh, wait, I was."
Arcee glanced at Ark uneasily. "Ark, you are surprisingly quiet."
"For good reason," Ark said as her servos frantically typed away.
"Does the money trail match?" KnockOut asked sweetly, leaning in to look over the femme's shoulder.
"Shut up," Ark growled.
Arcee's spark hammered in her chassis. To think that such corruption reached so high up was alarming. The fact that Sentinel had betrayed the Autobots and worked with Megatron was disturbing enough, as it meant he had no qualms for alliances, she also had to face that fact that he might be involved in with the predacons. If Sentinel was indeed involved, who else was?"
"This is too grave to push aside," Ark said, staring at Arcee. "Too many pieces fit into place now that Sentinel is in the picture."
Arcee was about to speak up when the door to the lab opened, and Shockwave entered. He headed straight for Arcee, an object clutched in his servo. He stood before her and passed the object to her with tender care. "Do what you must," he said. With that, he turned and left just as suddenly as he had entered.
Arcee watched him leave before glancing back down at the object in her servo. Shockwave's quick work was so authentic that she herself felt like the Key she held was real. She was right in assuming that Shockwave could create such a convincing replica of the Key to Vector Sigma. Despite what Shockwave said, he would make a great welder.
She smiled and clutched the fake key. "We will present our case to Megatron himself."
Antagony's presence soon became more like an annoying buzz to Bumblebee. Her questions remained the same, as did their answers about the Heir and the Key.
"You are making this very difficult," she said.
"Well, we are not known for being easy students," Smokescreen said with a snippy reply. "My guardian, Optimus Prime, was driven up the walls with my-" He was cut off with a pained cry as Antagony stabbed him with her electric staff.
"Antagony," a new voice declared, causing the femme to halt her torture on Smokescreen. "That is enough."
"Look guys," Bumblebee muttered. "It's a traitor get-together."
Sentinel scowled as he walked in, arms folded behind his back. "A get-together of difficult sparklings as well."
Bumblebee looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging. "Eh, I think my comment was better than yours."
"One would think you'd have learned to keep your mouth shut in such circumstances," Sentinel growled.
"One would think you'd have learned that we aren't going to give you what you want," Bumblebee snipped back.
Sentinel stalked toward him, expression thunderous. "Maybe that will change soon enough. Where is the Key?"
"I don't talk to traitors," Bumblebee said stubbornly, turning away with a pout. He could feel the annoyance radiating off from Sentinel, and he smirked at the thought of annoying Sentinel.
Sentinel's optics narrowed, and he turned to look at Firestar. "You claim you are the Heir?" he demanded.
Firestar blinked in surprise, though she nodded her helm. "Yes, I am."
"Good," Sentinel stated, and he powered up his gun and leveled it at Bumblebee's spark. Firestar lurched forward, as if she could wrench free from the chains that bound her. Bumblebee breathed in sharply as he felt the heat of the gun touch him.
"Where is the Key?" Sentinel demanded.
"I don't know," Firestar gritted out. "Optimus Prime would not tell me."
"The Key to Vector Sigma was passed down from Optimus Prime to his Heir," Sentinel stated. "Either you are not the Heir, or you are lying about your lack of knowledge." He shrugged. "If you refuse to cooperate, then fine. I can always move on to the white mech after I am finished with this one." With a sharp move, he smacked Bumblebee across the face. Energon from the cut on his face flowed downward as Bumblebee lowered hsi helm from the unexpected blow.
Firestar's tone grew desperate. "I do not know where the Key is! I swear to Primus that I do not."
"He won't do it, Firestar," Bumblebee said, glaring at Sentinel. "I wouldn't dare risk killing the Heir by accident. For all he knows, I could be the Heir, not you."
Sentinel sighed, his gun transforming back into a servo. "How right you are." He looked down, as if reluctantly admitting his defeat. It was in that moment that Bumblebee felt that he could breath in relief.
"However," Sentinel said suddenly, looking up as he reached out his servo to touch Bumblebee's neck. "I have grown tired of your pointless prattle." Bumblebee's optics widened as Sentinel lunged forward, sharp servos digging through his armor.
Firestar was screaming threats as Smokescreen pleaded for mercy as they watched in horror as Sentinel ripped away Bumblebee's protective armor. Bumblebee's choked screams were silenced as he felt a cold, clawed servo dig deep with as energon spurted out of the new, open wound. Finally, Sentinel pulled back, servos wet with energon. Bumblebee's panicked gasps became choked as he struggled to spit out the energon gathering in his mouth.
"His voice box has been punctured," Sentinel sad simply as he wiped away at the mess in his servos. "Without medical help in the next two hours, he will never speak again. Four hours, he will bleed to death." He turned to stare at Firestar and Smokescreen individually. "I shall leave you two to decide amongst yourselves how you wish to help your friend. Maybe you will be a bit more willing to cooperate with me and give me what I want."