Transformers: Uprising

by kira444

Prequel to Titan. Before Optimus became a Prime, he fought for order. Before Megatron became a conqueror, he fought for freedom. Before they were enemies, they fought for the preservation of Cybertron's future. Before the Great War, there was...the Uprising.

10. Shadowplay

Chapter 10-Shadowplay

Part 1: Post Hoc

All Quark wanted was a nice, quiet break after spending half the day in his alt mode sitting on a lab table inspecting tiny, microscopic bits of metal and alloy found by some obscure scientist or miner who thought they found the next source of Tyrrenium. It was back breaking work, especially for a bot as old as he was, and he was just content to enjoy the sights Iacon had to offer.

Then Nightbeat came along, and all that went out the window.

The two mechs stood on a corner near McAddams where he got his Nightbeat just got his drink, with Quark reading a news report Nightbeat just shoved into his hand.

"So what am I looking at again?" Quark asked. "Not more violence."

"Some lunatic burst into the relinquishment clinic in Apophenia and started shooting donors." Nightbeat explained. For a private investigator, Nightbeat had an odd habit of informing his friend about the rising number of violent crimes going on in the world.

"Where did he get the gun?"

"Read the whole story. He was ex-military, Primal Vanguard. The gun was part of his anatomy."

Quark sniffed at that. "Sounds like one of those Recepticon fanatics."

"It's D: De-cepticon," Nightbeat corrected him. "After their slogan 'you are being deceived'."

"Thank you, Nightbeat. I immediately stand corrected." Quark didn't even bother trying to hide the rolling of his eyes.

Nightbeat snorted and took a sip of his drink. "I knew you'd blame the Decepticons. You sound like the senate used to, before the U-turn."

Quark shook his head. "I'm not a fan of the senate. They said the Clampdown would make Cybertron safe."

"And you believed them?" The mocking laugh Nightbeat gave him made Quark's scowl deepen. "The Clampdown is insanely counter-productive. The curfews, the sky spies…and Primus help you if you have a Tarnian accent. You push the public too far and they'll push back."

"Careful." Quark warned.

"What?"

"Just…careful. You sound like a Decepticon recruiting agent." Quark took a cautious look around. "Next you'll be "why should we be tied to one job just because of you alt mode? Why should you be a function slave"?"

"Two damn good questions." Nightbeat muttered.

"Seriously, the whole street is probably wired. Look at that bot over there." Quark motioned his head to the mech standing across the street, an orange bot with a small, skinny frame and obscenely large eyebrows who was tinkering with a tiny model of the Proudstar. "You're telling me those eyebrows aren't secret recording devices? This guy screams government plant."

"No, Quark. That guy screams lonely."

"Yes well, we'll see which of is right when they reach the magic number."

Nightbeat finished his drink and tossed the glass into a disposal unit. "What, 'Proteus' Promise'? not gonna happen. And if it does, so what?"

"You say that now-once the Decepticons take over, we're dead. We're not their type."

Nightbeat gave him a look. "They have a type?"

"Of course they have a-the manual classes!" Quark exclaimed. "Constructibots, miners, haulers, the dirtier your job, the greater your chances of survival."

"And you seriously believe this?"

"Look, I'm scientific caste. I turn into a proton microscope-the functionists allow me a certain degree of occupational freedom because what I do is seen as added value," Quark explained. "Come the revolution, the Decepticons will force everyone to change shape-and anyone without a drill bit or scoop will be shot on the spot. I'm telling you, it'll be a trial by-"

"Are you drinking that or nursing it back to health?" Nightbeat reached for Quark's drink, but he kept him at bay.

"Hey, you're interrupting me because you know I'm right!"

"Uh-huh. If you don't want it, I'll have it."

"I'm making it last!" Quark pushed Nightbeat away and looked into his drink. "Besides, it tastes weird."

Then something fell into the glass, and instinctively Quark and Nightbeat looked up. They were met with the horrific sight of a corpse hanging right above them, dripping energon from multiple wounds on his body into Quark's energon.

"I think I know the reason it tastes funny." Nightbeat muttered.

XXXXXX

Chromedome liked his job. He was probably one of a rare breed that actually enjoyed the job he was born to do. Despite being a headmaster, a breed of Cybertronian that could shift their head into another, smaller body, he was lucky enough to be granted a certain degree of freedom involving his choice of jobs, and being in law enforcement was a job he took seriously. Other bots of his caste treated it like a chore, but he wondered how many were now getting their dreams fulfilled with all the slag that was going on in the world. Iacon used to be a relatively crime free city with little in the way of civil chaos, but after all the bombings and assassinations, things were falling apart. Some bots were just in it for the pay, but Chromedome liked the chance this caste provided for him to do some good in a world that was quickly starting to rust at the seams.

That was his thoughts before he met and was partnered up with Prowl-the most rigid, rule obsessed desk jokey of all time.

He arrived at the murder scene in his vehicle mode and passed the yellow holo-tape that read his badge as he went in. He transformed and saw Prowl already studying the crime scene.

"What are we looking at Prowl?" Chromedome asked.

"You're 0.7 minutes late. And his name is Sherma." Prowl said in his crisp voice, studying the ground under the still suspended body.

"Murdered?" Chromedome looked at the body. It was riddled with holes in the torso and wrapped in a heat rod that was hung from the bridge above them.

"Assassination." Prowl clarified.

"When does a murder become an assassination?"

"When the victim is a senator."

Chromedome knelt down and ran his fingers through the puddle of energon under the body. "He leaked to death?"

"A mech his size suspended in that position and sporting those puncture wounds would've lost this amount of energon in minutes," Prowl explained. "But his external eye temperature suggests his Spark was extinguished hours ago. Senator Sherma was killed, brought here, and hung out to dry."

His partner circled around the body and said," The Decepticons are behind this."

"What makes you say that? Does the upside down corpse reference the Deceticons' plans to upend societal hierarchies?" Prowl asked, sarcasm lacing his voice as he looked at Chromedome through his mirco-lens. "Is it the position of the body such that at sunset, the shadow will point to the Functionist building where the first Deceticon activists were arrested?"

Unaffected by his partner's attitude, Chromedome spun the body around and pointed to the back of the body, showing the Decepticon symbol on his back. "There's all that obviously, but for me, the real clincher is the massive Decepticon symbol graffitied on his back."

Prowl hummed, studying the little tidbit he had somehow overlooked and rubbed his chin as he gave one of his signature lines. "We need a full autopsy."

XXXXXX

Orion Pax lived a complicated life that got more hectic as time went on. Aside from the fact that he was still on probation (in name only, according to Quickshadow) for his outburst at the Decagon, and the scandal caused by the murder of dozens of police officers in police HQ, he was also something of an urban legend among his peers. His public declaration of being an Autobot and practically spitting in the senate's face had garnered him a lot of attention that he didn't really need right now. There was already a small corner of the DataNet that preached his creed and called themselves Autobots. He never meant to spark another revolutionary movement, he only did it in a fit of rage in an attempt to give the senate the finger and let the world know just what's going on the inside.

Orion never intended to take after Megatron, but unlike the gladiator, he had a job to do. A job to clean up his city and keep the state from becoming as corrupt and savage as the people who governed it. And Quickshadow figured that mean taking out the trash in the undercity, like the two punks who were beating up a mech overdosed on synthesizers that had less than noble intentions for him.

"I don't know what I find more upsetting: the citizen overdosing on circuit boosters, or the two thugs torturing him for their own depraved amusement." Orion pointed his blaster at them. "Just when you think you know how low people can go…they go lower."

The thugs were on guard, knowing who he was (everyone knew who he was at this point) and one of them took out a blaster as well.

"Look who it is! It's Orion Pax, supercop!" The first thug grinned. "We heard all about you supercop!"

'I'm sure you have.' Orion thought.

"What ya gonna go, supercop? Arrest us?" The other thug taunted.

"I already have." Orion said, tossing his gun aside.

"Say what?"

"I said-" Orion rushed forward and punched the gunman in the face, knocking him out. The other mech fired a blast at him, but his reinforced armor (a gift from Senator Quake) easily deflected the bolt and he took that guy out by smashing his fists into the sides of his head and dropped him. "I already have."

Orion walked over to the paralyzed mech. He didn't look very good, his armor worn and warped in many areas of his body, his eyes blank and looking like two headlights, and he even had some energon dribbling from his mouth. Circuit boosters were fun if you wanted to get a little buzzed and feel like you jumped into a pool of Engex, but abusing it could caused the mech to burn out his processor and fuel lines from overcharge. And that was exactly what this poor bastard was going through.

"Roller?" Orion called on his comm. "It's me. I need you to bring a containment trailer to the undercity, sector DE911. What? Because I'm busy, Roller, some poor Spark is on the brink of burnout. I'm taking him to Ratchet."

Roller was one of the few bots that Quake had introduced him to, a like minded bot who hated the senate as much as he did. Roller was a great friend who filled the void Dion's death left behind, and was Orion's partner in crime when conducting clandestine operations like this. Operations meant to expose the senate's secrets and display them for all the public to see.

The clinic that Pax took the mech to wasn't really an official clinic, rather it was a drop in medical center set up by Ratchet, an old mech who Pax met during his years in the Iaconian Academy of Science and Technology. Orion would take patients there for Ratchet to fix up, bots who would find no help from the public clinics that were sickeningly selective in who they helped.

Orion took the bot into a small operation room where Ratchet immediately got to work on the debilitated mech. Ratchet got to work no cooling down the mech's overheating systems. He flushed the tainted energon out of the patient's fuel pump and replaced it with fresh energon and used external pumps to siphon the charged energy from his fuel lines. Orion watched the entire thing with awestruck eyes, unable to comprehend the speed at which they moved. To think that even legends like Pharma couldn't move as fast as Ratchet could during a medical operation. It took only half an hour for Ratchet to fix the bot up and when he was done he gave Orion his thoughts on the bot's condition.

"This damage is extensive," Ratchet said, as he finished welding the mech's armor panels back together. "What happened to him?"

"Circuit booster overdose," Orion said. "That's the fifth bot I've stumbled on to who did that."

"That's five too many. Why the sudden surge in these cases?" Ratchet sighed.

"Some people just want an escape from how depressing life has become. Can't say that I blame them." Orion muttered.

After a few minute, the mech started to regain consciousness and Ratchet hurried over to him.

"W-what happened?" He asked, his voice rusty and parched. Ratchet gave him some energon to clear his voice synthesizer.

"You took one too many circuit boosters." Ratchet told him. "Almost burnt out your processor in the process."

"That's a damn shame." The mech said bitterly. "You saving me, not the burnt out part."

"You almost died from an illegal substance you shouldn't have had in the first place." Orion said, crossing his arms. "I should arrest you."

Ratchet waved him off. "Aw, give him a break, Pax. He's been through the mill. What's your name kid?"

"Drift." The bot grumbled. Ratchet leaned over him.

"Listen to me, Drift. I saved your life today. What happens next is up to you." Ratchet said. "Get a Paint N' Polish and visit the Functionist center downtown-see if they can match you up with a job. You're special, I can tell. Not get out there and prove me right."

Ratchet didn't normally give pep talks like this, but it pained him seeing bots so young play around with their lives. What was even more disturbing was that there were others out there doing the same thing…and weren't as lucky as lucky.

Drift didn't look convinced, but decided to humor Ratchet anyway. "Look, thanks for the save doc. I promise not to use those things again, for all the damn good they did. But I'm going to head over to the relinquishment clinic and donate my frame."

"A relinquishment clinic?" Ratchet frowned. They were nasty placed that allowed a bot to swap his Spark into another body for a fee. Those that donated their bodies were paid a hefty sum depending on how good their "conditions" were. "It's cheap and nasty body tourism, kid- who knows where it'll lead?"

Drift gave him a weak smile and stood up. "Yeah, but it pays well and let's face it, my alt mode is my one remaining asset. Trust me: there's some monocycle or proton microscope out there who's always wanted to turn into a speedster. See ya around doc."

Ratchet watched Drift leave the building with a frown, but didn't stop him. He hoped that the kid didn't do anything stupid. He put his tools away to be cleaned later, then he noticed Orion watching the video screen and shook his head.

"You and TV! You're worse than Roller!" Ratchet sighed. "Y'know, I miss the old newsfeed service. These days all you get is the state-sponsored scrap about Proteus making first contact with the Povians or froth like "The top 10 Metroplex sightings'."

Orion didn't look away from the screen as he calmly gave the bad news to Ratchet. "It's Nominus Prime. He's dead."

What?!" Ratchet exclaimed.

Orion turned up the volume so he could hear the broadcast.

"…precise time of death has yet to be announced, but the Matrix Flame burnt itself out last night. The search now begins for the next Prime-although unconfirmed reports suggest that someone close to the senate is already showing signs of affinity. A spokesperson for Senator Proteus confirmed that Nominus died after a longstanding rust infection spread from his fuel pump to his Spark casing."

"That's odd…" Ratchet muttered.

"What?"

"I operated on Nominus when he was attacked and his fuel pump was pristine," The medic rubbed his chin and turned to Orion. "You told me the senate was behind the attack on Nominus."

"That's my understanding, yes," Orion replied. "Once Nominus was confined to a circuit slab, Sentinel was going to try and tap into the life-giving properties of the Matrix."

"So maybe…" Ratchet sighed. "Actually, forget it"

Orion gave Ratchet his full attention. "You think Sentinel succeeded don't you?"

"I know, I sound like one of those conspiracy freaks." He groaned. Orion put a hand on his shoulder.

"No, but you remind me of someone I'd like you to meet."

XXXXXX

Prowl and Chromedome stood in the forensics lab with the disassembled body parts of Senator Sherma. The body had been taken apart piece by piece by medical analysts and placed on the floor in an even fashion within a sterile environment. They didn't leave a single screw, armor piece or limb untouched and after a few hours, the two officers were standing before an impressive display of medical knowledge and finesse. Who knew a bot was built of so many components?

"Amazing what a team of thirty can do in a few hours." Chromedome took off his head and it transformed into a smaller, humanoid body that resembled his larger form. He walked through the rows of body parts and hummed. "Now at least we know that he was…?"

"Shot. Several times, at close range." Prowl said.

"That's it? I was expecting something more." He walked over to the round organ that was the victim's brain module and tapped it with his foot. "Why wasn't the brain module dismantled?"

"We've been told to leave it intact. Lobe and his cerebrosurgeons are trying to pull live data from dead bodies."

"Since when? You know I'm interested in mnemonology." Chromedome signaled his body to pick him up and reattached his head. After testing his limbs to get the feeling back he gave Prowl an annoyed look.

"We'll talk about that later, now take a look at this." Prowl held up a vial of blue powder. "It's powdered glass. It was recovered from Sherma's boots and traction treads."

"It's cerulean glass-I recognize the grain. Only place you'd find glass like that is at Translucentia Heights." Chromedome observed.

"Well done." Prowl smirked and held up a golden card.

"What's that?"

"A search warrant."

XXXXXX

Orion wasted no time arranging a meeting with his "contact". Ratchet had no idea that Orion had someone on the inside-hell he didn't know that there was anyone in the senate who was a decent person. He was just now realizing how deep Pax was after his outburst a month ago; the secret missions, the information disruption, rooting out friend and foe. Orion was leading a rebellion of his own and he didn't even know it.

They went to the Proudstar memorial, where Orion had arranged the meeting and first met his benefactor after he was freed from jail. As they waited, Ratchet took a moment to look at the plaque displaying the crew manifest of the Proudstar. Nova Prime of Yuss, Jhiaxus of Tesarus Minor…he had seen half these people in person at some point in his early life.

Ratchet had been online during the later part of Nova Prime's reign, as with hundreds of other bots, and he had to admit that Cybertron lost a great leader on that ship. Mechs who changed Cybertron forever and now with their disappearances, the planet was left in the hands of pompous fools too ruled by fear and greed to properly govern an entire world.

"Heroes one and all."

Ratchet turned to see the mysterious bot Orion spoke if, Quake, walking towards them. Seeing him in person made him look a lot normal than how the new channels portray him. He knew this senator, probably one of the few mechs on the senate who wasn't trying to gain more power through subterfuge.

"I've lost count of the millions I've spent on search missions." Quake smiled.

"I hear you have an interest in exploration." Ratchet said.

"And retrieval, yes. I like to find things that are lost. Metroplex is another obsession."

They shook hands as Orion looked on perplexed. "I take it you know each other?"

Ratchet shrugged. "Only by sight."

"Quake, this is Ratchet." Orion introduced. "I trust him."

"Then so do I."

They took a seat, with Ratchet acting as an innocent bystander just to set up appearances while Orion told Quake of his suspicions behind the former Prime's death. Quake didn't look surprised by this information.

"Of course they had Nominus killed!" Quake whispered. "The moment Sentinel realized that the Matrix in his chest was a fake, his fate was sealed."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Orion asked.

"Bother me? Orion, it was all I could do to stop myself from storming up to Sentinel and tearing his head off. But my anger has got me in trouble in the past-these days I have to keep my volatility in check." Quake sighed. "Also, my…influence within the senate is on the wane. I spent most of my political capital intervening to save your life."

"No regrets I hope."

"Please, you're my brightest hope." Quake smiled.

"Look, I know you want to see the senate humbled and replaced by something better." Orion said. "I know you want to see Proteus and the others removed. But I still don't know what use you have for me."

"Forget Proteus-Sentinel's the one to worry about. The scale of his ambition-it's frightening."

Orion narrowed his eyes. "There's something you're not telling me-I can hear it in your voice."

"I…have a hunch. A hunch that Sentinel's planning something, and that it involves the Decepticons."

"Megatron," Orion muttered. "Is he alright?"

"Well, he's sage, if that's what you mean." Quake replied. "Despite all this talk of justice, the senate wouldn't dare kill him for fear of martyring him. But his followers are a different story altogether."

Orion grimaced and leaned back on the bench. The Decepticons had skyrocketed into the limelight after Megatron's broadcasted speech from the arena. Protests, riots, vandalisms, graffiti, the Dcepticons had reached the same notable fame as Triple M and the Malware Brigade, but unlike those groups, the Cons were more than just religious nuts or social anarchists. They were revolutionaries who made their point and a lot of people were starting to agree with them.

"Do you have any clues as to their plans?"

"Nothing concrete, but I think a recent murder case might be connected." Quake handed Orion a datapad.

Orion read the case file. "Senator Sherma's murder?"

"Yes, perhaps it's just paranoia, but I doubt a Decepticon would murder Sherma and plant their brand on him."

"Why do you think that?"

Quake looked grimly at the Proudstar memorial. "Because Sherma was a Decepticon supporter."

XXXXXX

One of the drawbacks of the Clampdown was the curfew set a little after midnight. When the sun went down, the streets were emptied, and unless you had a permit to be out during restrictive hours, you were taken in immediately without question and probably thrown in jail with a fine. It was the senate's way of rooting out law breakers and rebels, but it only served to further anger the populace, especially those who had to work long hours into the night.

Prowl and Chromedome weren't complaining about it now, however, as they zipped through the skyline of Translucentia Heights in northern Iacon on skydarts, mobile platforms used by individuals lacking aerial alt modes to get around quicker. The normally bustling streets were deadly quiet, with no sign of life and they were the only ones out at this hour. Without the hustle and bustle of the crowds and vehicles, the city was almost creepy, and you didn't know what to expect.

"You know," Chromedome began. "If we had decent alt modes we wouldn't need skydarts to get around. We could just fly everywhere."

"I spent my formative years in Petrex, a twin-mode town north of the pancontinental express way." Prowl said. His partner nodded.

"I know. You said it was governed by-"

"By functionist hardliners. Exactly. Making disparaging remarks about your alt mode was an impressionable offense."

Chromedome grunted. "Sounds like hell."

"Oh, I don't know," Prowl shrugged. "It taught me to respect the rules. Without discipline, we're lost."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Prowl."

The two mechs landed their skydarts near the edge of the residential area that was dominated by towering skyscrapers; the homes of upper caste bots who were alt mode exempt-they were no longer bound to the limitations of their alt mode and were able to choose a job regardless of what they changed to. It was a privileged bestowed by the Functionist council upon a chosen few who have done their duty to society (i.e. them).

"Course, these days, they'd send you to the Institute and be done with it." Chromedome remarked. Prowl made a face at that.

"Pfft." Chromedome gave him a look.

"How do you even make that sound?"

"You don't really believe in the Institute, do you?" Prowl asked.

"I don't know-but whether it's real or not, the idea of the Institute still fascinates me." The headmaster replied.

The Institute was an urban legend born from the fears of the senate's control and the inherent discomfort of menmosurgeons. It began as a rumor that it was a place where the senate takes bots to repurpose them into well behaved citizens, a sort of psychoward for naughty people. Generally it was seen as some kind of codename or reference, but no one really believed it existed.

"How many people live here? Two thousand?" Chromedome asked.

"2,987." Prowl answered.

"Iacon's most privileged and every one of them at mode exempt." He hummed.

"You could be to if you got yourself reclassified as a member of the intellectual caste." Prowl suggested.

"Easier said than done. I'm the only headmaster of my kind to get this far into the social hierarchy. My brain got me as far as mecha forensics-no further."

The two officers stopped at the edge of an apartment complex. "The warden here is one of our most enthusiastic informants. Obsessed with Triple M, then with the Decepticons-this was before Proteus made his ill-advised promise. Nonetheless, if Senator Sherma had business here, we should be able to find out what-"

There was a loud crash, glass shattering above them and a body was thrown through a window of one of the top floors from the building in front of them. It hit the ground with a sickening thump and Prowl and Chromedome ran towards the crash site. The body landed head first and completely destroyed the head, brain module and all. It also sported a Decepticon symbol with two bullet holes where the eyes would be. The two mechs eyed the corpse and draw their weapons.

"Correction," Prowl said. "2,986."

XXXXXX

Part 2: Patternism

In his office, Rolloer sat at his desk, feet on the table and sipping on a box of Kremzeek as he flipped through channels on his tv.

"In other news, Senator Proteus has refused to blame the killing of Senator Sherma on the Decepticon movement, despite claims that a purple symbol was painted on the corpse."

The screen flicks to a conference with Senator Proteus giving his opinion on the current events. "We should let the murder investigation run its course. In the meantime, I stand by the pledge I made when I announced the Decepticon Registration Act, namely that I will grant the Decepticon movement formal political party status if-and only if-at least 10,000 Decepticons register themselves as such."

"Under the terms of "Proteus's Promise", Decepticon supporters have 48 hours left to register before-sorry, we're receiving reports of a high-speed chase in Translucentica Heights, where…"

XXXXXX

"Citizen, I…" Chromedome sighed as the murderer did a low dive under a criss-crossing archway to get away from him. Chromedome elected to chase after the guy on his skydart, but trying to catch a natural born flyer on a skydart he can barely fly was difficult. Who knew? "Citizen, I am an officer with the mechaforensics division and I am not chasing you for fun."

The flyer took a sharp dive towards the street and he kept up the chase. "You've been caught fleeing the scene of the crime; I am giving you the chance to eliminate yourself from our inquiries." The flyer banked right, circling around a statue and open fired on him with rapid fire bullets. "Now you're just being rude!"

Chromedome turned left on a fork in the street to avoid getting shot down and the fleeing mech zigzagged through the air to throw him of his trail. Chromedome pushed his skydart into overdrive to gain some speed on his quarry, but was forced to slow down when he saw the flyer zoom into a pedestrian air duct.

"Wait, stop!" He warned him.

When it comes to glass in Translucentia, there are two things to bear in mind. First, it's reinforced 'iron' glass, second, when you're flying at high speeds, it's pretty much invisible. At the speeds the flyer was going at, it was the equivalent of hitting concrete at 40 mph, and the impact of him smashing through the glass was enough to break off a wing and send him spiraling out of control. But it wasn't the impact that got him, it was when he crashed into a billboard that promoted aerial based alt modes in city limits. Death by ironic billboard.

XXXXXX

Prowl was in the victim's penthouse studying the crime scene-"reading the room" as he liked to call it. He didn't look up as Chromedome waltzed into the room brushing glass of his form.

"Stay back, I don't want you disturbing anything." Prowl said.

'I suppose it'd be too much to say 'oh Chromedome! Thank goodness you weren't hurt chasing that serial killer while I did something less risky!'.' Chromedome thought.

"Judging by the fact that you're alone without your quarry, you must've let him get away."

"He's actually dead."

"Dead?"

"He crashed," He crossed his arms. "And you know what? He deserved it. He was an appalling flyer."

"I see. In that case, I apologize." Prowl said. Chromedome didn't even notice that his partner did something completely opposite what he was expecting as he prepared to go on a tangent.

"Typical! You never back down, even when-er," Chromedome did a double take. "What?"

"I said I'm sorry. And I'm glad you weren't hurt." Prowl repeated, glancing up at him.

"I-right. Well, okay. Good."

Someone cleared their throat and they turned to see a red and white mech standing in the doorway. Hiding his embarrassment, Chromedome quickly addressed their informant.

"I found the warden you were talking about." He said. "I had to show nine forms of I.D. before he'd let me talk to him. Tell him what you told me, Red Alert."

Red Alert, who was probably the most paranoid mech Prowl had met, explained that the suite belonged to Senator Momus, a fading politician who liked to entertain. Senator Sherma had been had been a regular visitor, as had various diggers, dozers and other commoners-Red Alert's words exactly.

"Momus was the last person I thought would be targeted by Decepticons. Look here," Red Alert altered the light spectrum in the suite to ultraviolet, revealing the Decepticon symbol and the phrase "you are being deceived" in bold letters. "I found it by accident…eventually."

Red Alert pulled out a datapad from his hip compartment and handed it to Chromedome. "I found this as well."

"The Decepticon Manifesto: The Illusion of Progress Revisited," Chromedome read. One of Megatron's latest essays that was released after his brief incarceration. "Hey Prowl, take a look at this. Prowl?"

Prowl was kneeling on the floor studying the broken window from different angles, studying the glass shards' position on the floor and measuring their individual distances from the window pane. Red Alert looked at him strangely.

"What's he doing?"

"Showing off. He can observe 800 moving objects and compute their direction of travel in 0.5 seconds." The headmaster explained.

"So?"

"So he can do it in reverse. It takes more time, but…by mapping where the broken glass came to rest, he can extrapolate the patterns of movement necessary to generate that precise distribution of debris."

Red Alert knelt down by Prowl. "You're working out how Momus was killed by his attacker."

"Attackers." Prowl said.

"What?"

"I just realized: there were two of them."

Out of nowhere, a purple bot ran out his his hiding spot, pushing past Prowl and jumping out the window. He transformed into a cybertronian jet and opened fire on the three mechs with photon spray lasers.

"Death to the Decepticons!" He cried.

Everything was a blur of lasers and broken glass. Red Alert, Prowl and Chromdome hid behind an overturned table, unable to move from cover lest they get torn to shreds. Red Alert yelped as a bolt flew over his metal helmet and sizzled the tiny centimeter where his head was exposed.

"What are we going to do?" He yelled. Prowl tried to shoot back, but flinched when a photon bolt shot over his head.

"I don't know," Prowl said with wide eyes. "I've never…"

"What?" Red Alert asked, and Prowl looked away embarrassed.

"I've never…"

"WHAT?!"

"He's never been in a firefight!" Chromedome yelled.

The flyer was still unleashing his barrage on the ravaged suite, but he didn't see the large form descending upon him until it crashed on top of him. The added weight caused him to lose balance in the air.

"You could do the sensible thing and land or I can punch you to the ground." Orion Pax ordered.

Inside, Prowl and Chromedome saw Pax and the criminal stutter in the air before the flyer took a nose dive. They were already out of the suite and down the elevator when they heard a loud crash on the street. They ran out of the building and saw Orion standing over the broken body of the murderer, who had a wide grin on his green face as his body twitched sporadically. Orion tried to interrogate him when a bright light shined out of his chest plate.

"No! His Spark's collapsing!" He exclaimed and jumped up with the mech's chest plate exploded outward and a hissing noise sizzled from his teeth. Within seconds the flyer was dead, with a devilish grin on his face, as if mocking them. "Damn."

Prowl came marching up to Orion, not looking very pleased at losing a potential suspect. "I suppose you think that was clever? Playing the hero! When ordinary citizens start taking the law into their own-"

Orion shoved his hand into Prowl's face and projected his badge. "My name is Orion Pax. Read my palm! I'm a registered law enforcer." He looked Prowl up and down. "You must be Prowl. I've heard a lot about you. I assumed most of it was exaggerated."

"Thanks for the save. That guy caught us completely off guard. "Chromedome said. "It's not every day that the perp hides at the crime scene."

"Why are you here?" Prowl asked, still reeling from the sudden firefight.

"I'm investigating Senator Sherma's murder. I heard he was friends with Senator Momus and came to Translucetia Heights to speak with him. Judging from what happened here, I was too late."

"Yeah. We found a Decepticon symbol etched onto Momus's wall and one branded onto his body." Chromedome explained. "But why come here?"

"Because I just learned that Sherma was a closet Decepticon."

Prowl snapped his fingers and immediately started putting the pieces together. "Sherma and Momus weren't killed by Decepticons-they were killed because they were Decepticons." He took out a datapad. "I'm sending a preliminary report to Flatfoot."

"It'll get "lost"- trust me." Orion said bitterly. "It's in the senate's best interests to fomet anti-Decepticon feeling."

Prowl looked at him dryly. "Well, I hope I never get to be as jaded and cynical as you, Orion Pax."

Cromedome sighed. "Why only a preliminary report, Prowl?"

"I want to know precisely what killed this bot before I sign anything off. We need a full atopsy."

"No need: you're looking at a classic case of Spark rejection. Before the Relinquishment Clinics were regulated, they'd slam Sparks into anything. Bodygloving they used to call it." Orion shook his head. "The Spark tended to overheat if the host body was subjected to physical or mental stress."

Chromedome nodded. "I think both our suspects were bodygloving. It would explain why the bot I chased was such a bad flyer: he was honeymooning in someone's body."

"Probably to hide their identities." Prowl deduced. He looked over at Pax and saw him talking on his phone. "Pax, you got anything?"

"I've just asked Roller for details of any relinquishment clinics in the vicinity-seems our best shot of finding out who the killers really are and-"

"Pax?"

"Well look at that," Orion whistled. "A new record."

"There are 26 clinics in the greater Iacon area. The closest is only a few kliks away. Opposite the shrine to Solomus." Roller reported.

"On my way."

"Not so fast big guy, there's something else. I've just taken an emergency call-you're needed on Solomus."

XXXXXX

Solomus was Cybertron's second moon, smaller than its larger twin Epistemus, and harbored its own native population of Minicons. Famous for its hot spots, after they cooled, the moon became known for its energon mines and later accommodating the first maximum security prison, Garrus-1.

Orion took a shuttle to Solomus and arrived at the prison, where one of the guards took him to the prison block to see the bot who wanted to meet him-Whirl.

He knew about Whirl, a lot of people did thanks to Megatron. He was one of Senator Proteus's enforcers who got arrested for beating up a prisoner, who also happened to be the mech leading the Decepticon revolution. Orion was sorely tempted to return the favor for all the scrap he paused, but upon seeing the mech in person, his aggression faded away into pity.

"You have five minutes, ten if I hear screaming." The guard said before leaving Orion alone with Whirl.

Whirl had seen better days. He looked like the entire prison had used him as a punching bag, beating him short of actually killing him. Unknown to Orion at that time, Whirl's thinly-disguised appearance in Megatron's latest polemic had led to every proto-Decepticon wanting to take a pop at him-hell, the miners next door were getting themselves arrested in hopes of getting within killing distance with him.

"Whirl? What happened to you?" Orion asked. "Who did this?"

"Don't worry, Pax. I'm making a list." Whirl grumbled.

"You have rights, you know. If you get into a fight, they're obliged to patch you up."

"I appreciate the feigned concern, but I didn't call you here to bleat." Whirl looked at him with one cracked optic.

"Why did you call me here?" Orion asked.

"Your friend is in danger."

Orion froze. "Which friend?"

"I don't know his name. He's a senator." He explained. "They know he fraternizes with you and that he's working against them-the senate. They're gonna kill him."

"How do you know this?"

"A cellmate-one of my handlers. He must have friends in very high places, because he arrived yesterday and let this morning, and has he went he said, 'It's all gonna kick off. Before the week is out, Proteus will break his promise and Sentinel will make his move'."

"That's all he said?" Orion Spark was pulsing like ball lightning. This was more serious than he thought.

"No, he mentioned a bomb-'A bomb so big it'll take the name of the city it destroys'. He said it'll be hidden in plain sight." Whirl hung his head. "That's all. I hope it's enough."

"I underestimated you." Orion said, staring down at Whirl in a new light. "I never pegged you as a straightforward criminal-I know you and the senate had history just by looking at you-but I underestimated your compassion."

"No, you underestimated my thirst for revenge." He growled. "The senate mutilated me, got me to do their dirty work, and abandoned me. I want you to hunt them. I want you to crush them. I want…I want…"

Whirl gave a whimper and looked at his clawed hands. "I want my hands back."

XXXXXX

Prowl and Chromedome stood off to the side as they saw a group of Decepticons protesting the registration act on their way to the relinquishment clinic. It was a sizeable protest group, one made of miners and laborers. In fact, Prowl even noticed the green and purple forms of the Constructicons in their vehicle modes, with the leader acting as a platform for the rally leader to say his words.

"The senate used to blame us for every terrorist attack this side of Nova Peak! And now-suddenly-with the announcement of the D.R.A., Proteus says he's prepared to engage with us?" The leader shouted. "I say no! it's nothing but a ploy to keep us distracted-to make sure we play at being good little citizens. He has no intention, none whatsoever, of keeping his promise. Why? Because he hates us! He fears us!

"If Proteus truly believed that our voices deserved to be heard, he'd grant us political party status with a wave of his hand-instead he sets some arbitrary quota!"

Chromedome shook his head at the sorry sight. "Ever wonder where this is heading?"

"Who doesn't? the newsfeed service says there's a Decepticon presence in every geosector now." Prowl said. "I don't know, that sounds…I don't know."

"I have a friend, a hostage negotiator, who says the Decepticon movement is attracting everyone from the Cyberutopians to the Anti-Vocationist League."

"You send out a message, you can't control who hears it."

"That's just it-my friend thinks it's all about job emancipation, but I think it's more than that." Chromedome lowered his voice. "I think this is about a new world order."

Prowl gave him a skeptical look, but Chromedome continued on. "If the senator keeps tightening the Clampdown and the Decepticon movement keeps growing, we could be looking at a full-blown insurgency. I'm not-you'll say I'm being an alarmist, but I can see it happening."

"This can be diffused. Trust me." Prowl reassured him.

"But if we did got to war, would you fight?" Chromedome asked.

"It won't come to-"

"Yes, but of you did."

"If it did, I'd leave. I have no wish to live amongst chaos."

"You'd leave Cybertron? What about me?"

Prowl's steely face melted into a soft expression as he looked at his partner. "…I assumed that you'd come with me."

XXXXXX

They made it to the relinquishment clinic, which admittedly looked just as depressing as the rest of the rundown street they drove down. They announced themselves and waited patiently in the lobby, their earlier conversation still fresh in their minds. The uncomfortable silence was broken by a news report on the videopane.

"In breaking news, we can report that the Decepticon movement has been cleared of any involvement in the murders of Senator Sherma and Momus. The head of the IMP, Flatfoot of Polyhex Minor, has in the past few minutes confirmed that the killings were carried out by two pro-functionist agitants, both of whom were killed trying to escape IMP investigators. More on the story as it develops…"

"What?!" Prowl yelled. " I said explicitly it a preliminary report! Pre-lim-in-ary! As in not the final version. Why in the name of the Underbase has Flatfoot decided to-"

"Shh-we've got company." Chromedome shushed his partner and nodded to the mech walking towards them. "You must be Trepan."

Trepan, the head doctor in the clinic, was a short and lanky mech who's alt mode was obvious not anything mobile. "Sorry to have kept you waiting. If you're here about the special offer on triple changers, I'm afraid there all on loan at the moment."

Chromedome eyed Trepan's hand, which sported a series of long, thin needles extending from his fingertips. "Interesting hand you got there."

"Sorry, yes I was in the middle of something." Trepan said. Prowl cleared his throat.

"Sir, we're from the IMP. I'd like to talk to you about these two individuals." He held up the images of the two bots convicted in the murder case. "We have reason to believe they might have been donors…"

Trepan frowned and shook his head. "I've never seen them before."

"Take a good look."

Before Prowl could inquire further, Chromedome snatched up Trepan's hand and looked at the writing on his wrist. "What's this?"

"Nothing, an engraving." Trepan answered. "It's in old Cybertronian "Everyone's shape serves a purpose"."

"I can read old cybertronian," Chromedome said. That caused Trepan's façade to crack and he laughed nervously.

"Really? Ah, right, well-in that case sorry." He cleared his throat to cover his slip-up. "It says "Cleanse and control". I er-used to work in sanitation. I changed jobs…"

"Now I know you're lying."

Ten seconds later, Trepan was cuffed and left in the storeroom behind the lobby as the two officers made their way into the clinic.

"I didn't know you read old cybertronian." Prowl whispered.

"I can't. But I can read people and that mech was a dodgey as they come."

They scouted the building for anything that looked out of the ordinary. They found medical rooms with Spark extraction equipment, storage containers, body hangars, etc, but just when it seemed that they came up dry, they found a map of the clinic on the wall near the back of the building that showed some peculiar things. And under it was a staircase that went downward.

"What is this place?" Prowl inquired as he read the captions on the directory. "Destabilization center, phobia control, modification ward?"

"I don't like the looks of those directions."

They steeled themselves and went down the stairs, ending up at the end of a long hallway with rooms on both sides. They were careful to keep out of sight as they inspected the rooms, which seemed to get more morbid and depressing as they went deeper into the facility. There were like operating theaters, some showing doctors poking around in the heads of bots-who were still conscious, and three rooms that were filled wall to wall with bots that had their heads carved out and their brain modules missing. They were lobotomized, and potentially dead if the modules were harmed too severely for the Spark to maintain itself.

But what they found next was the disturbing part.

They came upon one last room, the largest on the floor, and inside were dozens of bots, cerebroscientists, working at operating tables, poking and probing into brain modules ferried in from god knows where. These bots were clearly professionals and had been doing this job for a long time. And Chromedome immediately knew what they were doing.

"The Institute?" Prowl said after hearing his partner's conclusion.

"Come on, if you had to design a faculty of dedicated brainwashing, to rewriting your personality, it would work exactly like this." He said.

Prowl shook his head and stepped away from the window. "You're talking about state-sponsored menticide. Even if it were possible technologically-"

"It is! They isolate the centers of the memory and emotion in your brain, remove everything that defines you and implant new patterns of behavior." Chromedome shook his head with a sigh. "It's a forbidden science, it hasn't got a proper name. They just call it Shadowplay."

Mnemosurgery involved delving into another mechanoid's mind via physical contact with their neuronet, like connecting two computers together. This allowed unrestrained access to the patient's mind, their thoughts, their memories, all open to the practitioner like a movie. This practice was still considered controversial among the public even now, but it didn't stop Chromedome from studying the subject. Bots studying mnemosurgery are psyhiactrically evaluated, but there was still some room for abuse. A skill surgeon could rewrite an entire bot's personality, creating a whole new person in the span of a few minutes. A person's entire life, memories, experiences, in the face of mnemosurgery, it was all a drop in the bucket.

Chromedome looked away from the troubling sight and saw a computer terminal nearby. He quickly got on the console and did a quick search for their body-snatching criminals and hit pay dirt.

"Here we go, Fallout and Streaker," He read. "Fallout donated his body five years ago, Streaker not long after. Primus knows who was using their bodies…"

"Anything else on there?"

Chromedome pressed a button and saw another list a names, one that was significantly longer. "Another list, thousands of names, organized according to threat level."

"Upload it and let's go, quickly." Prowl urged. "We need to talk about how we're going to deal with this. Right now, I'm not even sure if any laws are being broken."

XXXXXX

When they went back upstairs, Trepan was already gone, cuffs and all, and Chromedome wanted to chase the mech down to arrest him. Prowl, who was still trying to process what he just saw in the secret area, tried to argue him out of hunting the guy down, but a call from Orion Pax cut into their plans.

At his request, they met up with Pax at the Rodion police station, where they also met another senator, a "friend" of Pax's alongside Ratchet. Chromedome explained what they found at the Institute and showed them the data he downloaded, and it was then that the seemingly random pieces started falling into place.

"That's it, that's the list." Quake said upon seeing the list.

"The list?"

"The Decepticon Registration Act-that's the list of registrants. I recognize some of the names."

"Why would the senate be interested in-oh." Ratchet frowned. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"The senate wants to lobotomize Decepticons." Chromedome said. "Surgically remove the impulse to rebel."

"But on what pretext? Not even Sentinel would round them up without an excuse."

"The murders-Sherma and Momus."

"Too small," Quake frowned. "Besides, why would they be killed before the registration had been closed? It's in his interest to get as many as possible to register."

"Okay, I like a good conspiracy as much as the next bot, but this is where me and this conversation part ways." Prowl said firmly. It all sounded so absurd to him.

"Wait, give me a second." Orion sighed and thought hard about it. "Okay, say the DRA is the senate's way of flushing out the enemy. But the Decepticons don't trust the senate-why would they, after all the propaganda?-so registration is poor. Proteus starts to panic-he only gets one shot at this. He arranges for Sherma and Momus to be murdered, knowing that the Decepticons will expect the senate to blame them. Instead by refusing to jump at conclusions, he can use their death to demonstrate his evenhandedness and convince the skeptics that he's no longer anti-Decepticon.

"But he needs the murder investigation to go above board so he makes sure the task of finding out the "truth" is given to a pair of scrupulous investigators. When the Decepticons are cleared of any wrong doing, Proteus looks like a model of probity. The result-a last minute surge in registrants."

"That's why Flatfoot was so quick to send a preliminary report to the senate." Chromedome said.

"Flatfoot's in on this to?" Prowl gaped and groaned. "Of course! Why not?"

"Hang on. If enough Decepticons register, then Proteus is obligated to make them a political party." Ratchet noted.

"Not if they show their "true colors"." Orion said.

"The bomb that Whirl mentioned," Quake muttered. "Proteus is going to blame that on the Decepticons!"

"Proteus gets to break his promise and Sentinel gets his excuse to round up everyone on the list and brainwash them, render them passive and docile."

"Great! A bomb's about to go off any day now, and we don't know where." Chromedome groaned.

"Hey big guy," Roller called out, pointing to the videoscreen. "Check this out."

"…exclusive footage of Nominus Prime's body being laid in the Primal Bascilla. Tomorrow the first of an estimated million mourners will view his corpse. For many, it will be the first time they have seen the Matrix up close."

Something in Orion's mind clicked and he made the final connection. "The Matrix-the fake Matrix-they've turned it into a bomb. A bomb that'll kill thousands and desecrate a religious landmark-the ultimate act of provocation. We have to stop it."

"But how?" Ratchet asked. "We can't tell the senate, we can't tell the mechaforencis, we can't trust anyone."

"We have to handle this ourselves. We have to neutralize the threat."

"What are you saying?" Quake asked, but he already had a feeling on where this was going.

"I'm saying," Orion looked at those present, his blue eyes shining with determination. "We have to steal the Matrix."

XXXXXX

Part 3: An Intimate Beheading

Prowl sulked outside the station. After Orion and the others formulated their plan, he finally had enough of the absurdity of it all and just left the building. He spent the last 17 minutes outside just staring at the skyline of Iacon, quiet and peaceful, though inherently more dangerous since the attempt on the last Prime's life.

"Prowl?" Orion walked up behind him. "Your partner was looking for you earlier. He's gone to the Academy with Roller to get help."

"Which means you're actually going to go through with this." Prowl said.

Orion sighed. "I don't expect you to understand."

"Good! Good, because I don't! Let me spell it out for you so you can hear the mounting incredulity in my voice. On a hunch, you're going to assemble a team of "specialists" to break into the Primal Bascilla and steal the Matrix from Nominus Prime's corpse," Prowl whirled on Orion and got in his face, his anger rising. "Why? Because you think that the Matrix is actually a bomb that'll kill hundreds of civilians. And we can't tell our respective superiors because everyone's in on it. Apart from your so-called senator friend, who just happens to be the one good mech in a rotten system."

Orion didn't move an inch, unfazed by Prowl's hostility. "You're skeptical."

"Skeptical? Pax, I think you're mad."

"But you were the one who found the Institute."

"I don't know what I saw."

"Well, your partner seems to-"

"My partner seems to have fallen under your spell, just like everyone else." Prowl deflated and leaned against his skydart. "Look, he's good at his job, not that'd I ever tell him, but he's going to throw it all away for the sake of this…escapade."

"Prowl, wait…"

"Listen, this goes against the very grain of my being, but…I won't tell anyone about your little heist if you promise to do one thing for me. Keep him out of this."

Orion said nothing as he watched Prowl mount his skydart and fly away. He exhaled and rubbed his forehead, already feeling like he aged a vorn. He didn't need this stress before committing what could be probably riskiest act of heroism or the most heinous sin against all of cybertronian kind. He went back inside the station and saw Chromedome and Roller returning with some new friends of theirs.

"Hey guys," Chromedome said brightly. "We found some friends."

Orion whistled. "Wow. I wasn't expecting you to find anyone who would help us."

"It'd was surprisingly easy." Roller said. "All it took was mentioning Quake's name and that was all it took."

Quake smiled at the team of mechs. "Well, the Academy of Advanced Technology has always been a safe haven. You see, there's a variation among our race. Certain bots with gifts that set them apart."

"Outliers." Orion said. He thought of Elita-1 and wondered if she was still worried of his well being, or had resigned herself to dealing with the tragedy of his eventual death. And he also remembered how distressed she was at the thought of the functionists discovering her true nature. "You've taken them in as strays."

"I help hone their skills. Protect them from prosecution." Quake said. "You know how the functionists hate outliers because their existence undermines the principles of mode determinism. An outlier's gift bears no relation to their alt mode, you see. I have a student who can generate force fields and he turns into a truck. What's the link? There is no link."

"Is he the one with the claws?"

"No, that's Glitch. Well, we call him Glitch." Quake turned to the red mech with one eye and three pronged hands, signs of a humiliating torture that was exuded upon him. "He's an empurata victim who can render non-sentient machinery inoperative simply by touching it. One day, he'll be able to apply his skills from a distance."

Quake introduced the rest of their team: Windcharger, who was a levitator-a living electromagnet who channeled his power through arms. Then there was the jittery blue mech named Skids, who may be an outlier with a less flashy power-he was a congenital expert, a superlearner. He acquired new skills as often as a bot gets a new paint job.

Orion saw something drawn on the side of Skids' cheek and leaned in uncomfortably close to the mech to inspect it.

"Is…anything wrong?" Skids asked.

"You're wearing a miniature Matrix. Nothing's wrong. You just remind me of a friend. He was religious to." Orion replied, thinking back to how Dion saw the Matrix as a holy relic of great power and importance. That gave him an idea. "Chromedome?"

Chromedome, who was busy punching the wall to vent out his rage at Prowl ditching him at the station, paused in his abuse of non-living objects to give Pax his attention. "What?"

"I need you to do something for me."

XXXXXX

'How did I get roped into this?' Chromedome thought gloomily the next day. 'Oh yeah, because Prowl decided to ditch me, the bastard.'

He marched through the doors of the mechaforensics division and gave the receptionist a half-assed greeting as he made his way towards the ballistics department, where they developed new weapons of the trade to be deployed. From full blown weapons to variable ammunition, this was where the ever evolving war on crime got its sweet digs from. It was also a place where bots who worked there got little recognition, not even a thank you. Chromedome himself barely visited this part of the station, but Orion had assigned him an important task that had to be done before time ran out. No pressure.

"Ironfist?" He poked his head into a heavy cluttered room filled with junk from nearly every era.

Inside, a short white and blue mech with a grilled mouth plate and bright yellow eyes sat at his crowded desk tinkering with an ungodly amount of old school memorabilia. "Oh! Sorry, sir, I was just-well, come on in!"

"Is now a good time?"

"Now's a glorious time!" Ironfist said, eyes wide and sparkling. He never got many visitors that were just there to talk. "I've just bought the power booster rod that Delta Magnus used to trick the Neathians into thinking that he was a god!"

"Wow," Chromedome said, trying not to be rude and hoping that this guy wasn't for real. "That's…that's…"

"I know!" Ironfist laughed. "Please sir, take a seat. I'll show you the rest of my haul."

As a ballistics expert, Ironfist lived on site at the station in his crew quarters, but he was a loner who found solace in collecting old relics and knick-knacks in substitution for having a general lack of friends. This week, his interest was in Delta Magnus and the Primal Vanguard. Many of his peers and co-workers, but Chromedome wanted to throw the kid a bone. Unfortunately, to Ironfist, that meant he was a fellow hoarder.

"This is the forever glass from Moladive VI-the one that traps light?" He held up a mirror that showed not a reflection, but a still image of a mech's horrified face. "You can still see Crosscut's reflection. He's watching the neuroparasite climb out of Ambit's mouth. Glorious…"

He grabbed a drill and held it up. "This is Borebit's spare drill, and somewhere around here is a bomb disposal kit used by-"

"Ironfist!" Chromedome exclaimed and sighed. "Just, relax. Put down the drill and step away from the memorabilia."

"I'm sorry, I got carried away." Ironfist looked down. "Don't say anything to Prowl. He told Flatfoot I was spending too much time on my hobby and confiscated my life sized model of Delta Magnus."

And here's that opportunity he was waiting for. "Well, how would you like to get Delta Magnus back?"

"Yes! I mean-how?"

"I need a favor. Have you ever heard of the Decepticons?"

"The Decepticons?" Ironfist's genuine confusion made the question sadder than it should be. "No, should I have?"

Chromedome face-palmed so hard that he dented his forehead. "Oka, forget about the Decepticons. You've heard of the Matrix, right?"

"Sir, please, I have a life outside of the Primal Vanguard you know!"

"But I'm right in thinking that the Vanguard as the custodians of the Matrix during the-"

"The Interregnum, sir, yes. Nova Prime disappeared and Delta Magnus carried the Matrix until a successor was appointed. It was a glorious chapter in their glorious history."

Ironfist liked to say 'glorious' all the time. It was Delta's catchphrase.

"I've written several monographs if you want to-"

"No thanks!" Chromedome nearly shouted and cleared his throat. "I mean, yes, please. But first, that favor."

XXXXX

"A perfect replica of the Matrix. Exact in every detail." Chromedome said proudly as he held the little bauble up to the others.

"Outstanding work, Chromedome! I could hug you!" Quake laughed.

Orion clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Everyone, attention please. Windcharger can you just-can you put Skids down for a second? Thank you."

He cleared his throat and began explaining the game plan. "Now, last night, Ratchet was given a guided tour of the Primal Bascilla. His "health and safety inspection" gave him a chance to familiarize himself with the Bascilla's security systems."

"The good news is it is virtually impossible to try to break into the Bascilla without getting killed." Ratchet said.

"That's the good news?" Windcharger scowled.

"I draw your attention to the word 'virtually'." The medic replied. "As well as a fleet of sky spies, the building is surrounding by a no-fly zone, the air is laced with gluometric particles that scramble onboard guidance systems-I know, I hadn't heard of them either. The point is, any aircraft passing within 25 miles of the Bascilla will crash.

"The perimeter itself is guarded by the senate's Triloian Guard-nearly a hundred multi-terrain triple changers, all of them under orders to kill suspected troublemakers on sight, with emphasis on kill or suspected depending on which guard you talk to. Nominus Prime's body is on the high alter not far from the Atrium. The entire floor is covered in hypersensitive panels: anything heavier than a shadow will set off the alarm." He continued. "And when the Bascilla's in lockdown; which it will be tonight, every square inch of the interior space is dissected by tracer beams. Break a beam or step on a pressure panel and 98 trigger happy guards will run, fly or drive through the portico doors."

"What I'm about to propose is highly necessary and highly dangerous, but first, I'm giving all of you the opportunity to walk away." Orion said. "If you choose to stay, thank you and listen carefully, because here's how we're going to do this…"

XXXXXX

It was at the dead of night that the operation had begun. Orion, Ratchet, and their group of specialists had traveled to the large, golden dome of the Primal Bascilla, the place where the new Prime was officially elected into office. Roller stayed behind with Chromedome and Quake and was working on hacking into the sky spy network, replacing the real time footage with old images to make it seem like a quiet night.

From the roof of a nearby building, Windcharger used his magnetic powers to levitate the team on a metal slab, initiating a vertical descent designed to lower their chances of being spotted. It was touch on Windcharger, would could only lift one person at a time, but he pulled through with an amazing amount of grace. Once they made it onto the Chamber, they quickly got to work on the detector beams.

Glitch, who barely said anything from the start, was tasked with deactivating the generator on the roof long enough for Orion to swoop in and switch the Matrixes. But this part had a strict time limit.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Glitch hissed.

"Shh! What's wrong? Does it hurt?" Orion asked.

"It always hurts! And-ow!-it's going to get worse." His arms were already starting to tremble on the generator, as if he was lifting something heavy. "This generator powers a lot of beams; any minute now, I'm either going to scream or pass out."

"Skids, move up!"

Skids pushed past Ratchet and crawled into the vent, were he reached the hatch above Nominus's body. He shifted his right hand into a grappling line and tied it to Orion's foot.

"I should have said this earlier, but as a trainee theoretician who can master virtually any skill, I'm kind of insulted that you brought me along for my grappling hook."

"Sorry Skids, but this job requires a more utilitarian approach." Orion patted him on the shoulder and Skids lowered him into the atrium.

The chamber was dead quiet, but Orion felt as if the silence was the loudest thing to him at the moment. He tried to ignore the sightless glares of the Nova Prime statues as he got lower to the body, and kept urging Skids to extend the line until he was just a few inches above the body.

"Okay, I've got an angle." Orion whispered. "I'm opening his chest now."

Orion, using Ratchet's medical knowledge, pressed a few pads on the sides of Nominus's torso to open his chest plate, but once the cavity opened up, he gave a curse."

"Ratchet, we have a problem."

XXXXXX

"I'm telling ya, Chromedome, Pax said you're staying here." Roller said, lazily watching the videopane. "Boss's orders."

Chromedome just groaned. "I don't know how you can just be sitting there, Roller. I should be with Pax stopping a plan of sabotage. Not-"

"Nursemaiding me?" Quake grumbled.

"That wasn't what I was going to say." The headmaster said. He and Quake stood side by side watching Roller flip through channels on the television. "I just can't believe Pax told me to stay behind."

"For what it's worth, this "protective custody" arrangement? I think Pax is being overcautious," Quake said. "The fact is, I'm too high profile for Sentinal to risk…oh no…"

Quake's Spark froze as he saw new footage of his academy, his life's work, ablaze in towering flames. Roller straightened up and increased the volume.

"…Academy of Advanced Technology, where teams of pyrobots are struggling to contain a blaze which the authorities are blaming on a faulty propex conduit. Reports suggest that…"

"We are in serious trouble." Quake noted. Then they heard a loud knock at the doors. Roller got his blaster and jogged to the main lobby.

"I got this."

"Roller," Chromedome ran after him. "I don't really think you should-"

"Hide, both of you." Roller waved him off. "Go on, shoo! I'll deal with this."

Not a second later, the front doors were destroyed in an explosion that blaster Roller back into Chromedome. As the smoke cleared, two mechs stood amidst the rubble with two large bots in black armor behind them.

"Best. Tip off. Ever." Kroma grinned.

XXXXXX

"Ratch? I said we have a problem?"

"I heard you, Pax just-" Ratchet knelt down next to Skids. "Glitch is about to pass out due to exertion-related neuralgia, and Skids' arm has nearly popped out of its glenohumeral socket. Or, in layman's terms, hurry up."

"I can't, it's the Matrix."

"Don't tell me: it's not there." Ratchet groaned.

"No, it's here, it's just held in place very securely." Orion said. Below him, the fake Matrix was practically molded to Prime's chest cavity with damn near every lock he could think of. "It's going to take me hours to pick these."

"In that case, you better let me handle this."

A few minutes later, Ratchet was now being lowered into the chamber so that he could get a better grasp on the locks in question. He studied the mechanism for a minute and hummed.

"Okay. They've wired it in like a tamper proof fuel pump. A 440, the mother of all fuel pumps. If I put a finger wrong, it'll explode." Ratchet observed.

"In that case, don't do anything. Not even you can disable a 440 by hand."

"Pax, I think you're amazing," Ratchet said as he started tinkering with the locks. "But that is the most hamfisted attempt at reverse psychology I've ever heard."

It was like doing one of his operations, pressing a few points here while working on another area at the same time, and also making sure not to press too hard to cause anything to rupture. He only needed a few minutes to work on the rigged fuel pump before he unhooked the final lock and pulled out the Matrix.

"Got it!" He grinned and started to install the replica. "I'm putting the replica Matrix in its place.

"Quick as you can old friend," Orion said. He tried to calm himself, but it was hard to relax after doing what they just did. He still couldn't believe they actually made it past the hard part. Still, the mission wasn't over until they got out of there in one piece.

"I'm done. Pull me up!"

"Nicely done. Good work Skids." Glitch laughed, slapping a hand on Skids' shoulder and immediately realizing what he just did. "Slag!"

"Don't touch me, you gearstick! You'll-" Skids felt his arm jerk and the tow line jam. "You've jammed the winch!"

The sudden stop jostled Ratchet and startled him. He lost his grip on the bomb and tried to catch it, but couldn't get a proper hold on it. He cursed as he saw it fall to the floor.

"Brace yourselves everyone! It's going to…" Ratchet opened his eyes (he didn't recall shutting them) and saw the Matrix floating in the air under him. "Huh? It's just hovering there!"

"You can thank Windcharger and his magic arms for that." Orion said, smiling at Windcharger as he held the bombastic bauble in place.

"You're lucky I got tired of waiting." Windcharger grinned.

"His magic arms and his low boredom threshold." Orion chuckled. "We'll pull you up and get outside."

Within seconds they got the good doctor back into the shaft and quickly made their way back outside. Once they were all back on the basin, Windcharger started to lower them to the ground.

"So, bauble or bomb?" Skids asked. He stared at the Matrix with wide eyes, expecting to be struck down for taking part in its theft. He wasn't overly religious, but he got the feeling that they pissed off someone with this stunt.

"No, no, it's a bomb." Ratchet confirmed. He studied the crystal inside. "Look, the facets here and here are thermobarbic plates, and there's even a trigger pad-although I suspect they'd have to detonate this remotely."

"Holy slag, it really is a bomb." Glitch breathed. "Those bastards were going to kill hundreds just to frame the Cons!"

"Can we go any faster, Windcharger?" Orion asked. "I'd be better off driving…"

"'Fraid not, magnetic travel is all one speed. What's the rush?"

"Roller was supposed to call me and he hasn't."

"Well if you're serious about driving, I can let us down, or if you're really in a hurry you can jump."

No one expected Pax to actually jump, but then again they don't know him very well. He leapt over the side and fell down nearly a story to the ground, hitting the street in his vehicle mode. The others watched him go with wide eyes and open mouths.

"He actually-wow." Windcharger said. Ratchet could only shake his head and question his taste in friends.

XXXXXX

Quake struggled in the Heavy's two-handed grip, but could get free of the modified brute. In front of him, Kroma, the mech leading the operation as a member of Sentinel's "security" force, smirked at the now trapped senator.

"What a lot of trouble you've caused. Flirting with agitators is one thing, but building an army of outliers? What did you think was Sentinel was going to do when he found out?"

"Got to hell, Kroma!" Quake hissed.

"You're going to be cleansed and controlled, and it's been a long time coming." Kroma said. "If I was a more compassionate person I'd shoot you in the head. As it is, I-"

Kroma was surprised when a large red truck smashed through the Heavy's torso, killing him and knocking Kroma back. Orion transformed and jumped in front of Quake, pointing his gun at Kroma.

"Pax!" Quake exclaimed.

"Leave this to me, senator." Orion said.

"I don't want to fight, Pax. I want to swap." Kroma pointed his photon rifle at the back of Roller's head. "Hand him over or I flash-fry this one's brain. Well?"

Orion fingered the trigger, but didn't fire. He was sure he could hit Kroma's head from here, but if he missed, then there wouldn't be a second chance. He was still weighing his possible options when Quake placed a hand on his arm and lowered the gun.

"Don't try, Orion. It's me he wants." Quake said.

"Wait! What are you-!"

"It's over, Pax. My fight ends here. I'm surrendering."

Quake walked over to Kroma, who cuffed him. He turned back and gave Orion a resigned smile. "Remember me as I was."

As the senator was handed over to his partner, Kroma glanced at Orion, who was shaking with anger. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Oh, you'll see him again." Kroma smirked. "Then again, given what Anvil is about to do to you, maybe you won't."

Orion was suddenly smacked aside by a large fist and went crashing through two walls before crashing into a desk and hitting the ground. Anvil, the other Heavy that he missed, stomped towards him.

"Gonna kill you. Gonna kill you good." Anvil growled, his limited intelligence clearly a side effect of having most of his body's auxiliary power routed to his musculature servo array. "You say anything?"

"You mean, do I have any last words?" Orion coughed. "Well, yes actually, I do. I have only one thing to say. Run."

His chest plate opened and he took out the Matrix bomb, pressing the trigger before tossing it at Anvil and taking cover. Seconds later, there was a bright blue explosion that killed the Heavy and took out a good portion of the room along with it and beyond.

On the 5th chord of 4th cycle Sol, sky spy 12-0185 recorded the explosion that reduced Rodion police headquarters to a crater.

XXXXXX

Orion would later dig up Chromedome after regaining consciousness and together they would go off to rescue Quake from the one place they knew he would be taken to-the Institute. They raced through the still empty streets and drove as fast as their wheels could take them to the relinquishment clinic Chromedome and Prowl visited earlier.

What they didn't know was that this Institute was only one of many, a whole underground network. The name was to mislead people into thinking there was only one. So when Orion and Chromdome reach the facility, they found nothing. The bodies, the cerbroscientists, the Spark storage units, all gone without a trace. And with it, their only lead to the senator.

The trail had gone cold. They lost.

XXXXX

Archer sat at his desk inside the Institute facility in Nova Cronum. The videoscreen on his desk was showing a news report that he thought was terribly ironic given his current occupation.

"Amputee support groups have called on the senate to outlaw the controversial Empurata ritual." Said a reporter. The camera switched to one Empurata victim with the common cone-shaped head and single eye. "Any government that mutilates its citizens for the express purpose of precipitating social stigma is, frankly, unfit to govern."

"But a spokesperson for the senate defended the ancient practice, saying that head and hand treatment was reserved for criminals who deserved to be publicly humiliated."

"Changeover," Ruk called out as he walked over to his desk. "Anything to report?"

"Not really. They brought someone in for treatment. A screamer." Archer said. He switched the monitor to a camera feed of the operation that was going on. "Here' take a look at what they're doing to him."

"Jeez. Empurata and shadowplay?"

"The empurata is just out of spite-they know he was forged, but the shadowplay," Archer shrugged. "Lobe calls it total personality inversion. 'It's the most ambitious piece of cerebral re-engineering I've ever attempted. By the time-"

"That's supposed to be Lobe?"

"Shut your stupid blue face.. 'By the time I'm don't with him, he'll be lucky to must an emotional response to anything."

Ruk looked at the patient ID. I know this guy. He's supposed to be a politician right?"

"I guess so. Must be if he managed to piss Sentinel off."

"What's his name?"

They looked at the monitor to see surgeons working on a dark purple body, implanting the senator's brain module into a hexagonal head with a single yellow eye, what's left of his old cranial unit sitting on a blood soaked tray.

"Shockwave."

---

Quake was the name of masterpiece Shockwave, and I thought it would be nice to have a little connection with the then senator's alias. Escalation will be on hold until I can dish out the last three chapters of this story. Next chapter will deal with a personal tragedy to Megatron and Orion and begins the schism between the two like-minded friends. Thank you all for your continuing support.