Dishonor
Chapter Three
When he raised his fist, nearly sixty bots came to a halt just behind Starscream. These were all the Praetorians they had managed to gather in the face of the advancing terrorist horde, while reaping a fearsome tally amongst those unfortunate enough to get in their way. Now Starscream knew the total collapse of organized resistance was imminent, and he regretted not being able to help, but they had to get out before it happened.
None of them were in any shape for a glorious last stand. Each and every one of them were bruised and battered from a long day of desperate combat that had driven them all to the limits of their endurance. Once they were out into the city it would be much easier to evade their pursuers.
After that, though, he had no idea what they were going to do. Take them to Aurretium? Not all of them were flight-capable… They'd need a transport. Motioning to Stormclaw, the Seeker turned to face him with a curious look. "How long you been stationed here, Stormclaw?"
"I'd say about a hundred cycles, sir."
"So you know the area pretty well, then."
Nodding he asked, "Sure. What do you need to know?"
"We're going to need a transport to get off-world, back to my garrison. We'll be safe there."
"There is a local spaceport farther in the East district. Nothing like Hydrax out in the Badlands, but I'm sure we'll find a spare ship or two we can lay our hands on."
Barking at the others on the newly established comm channel, Stormclaw marshalled the others while Starscream briefed them on the plan. Gathering his band together, they made their way past the jagged ruins that marked where the imposing boundary walls had once stood. As they moved into eerily silent streets, a sense of unease began to grip Starscream. There were no frightened faces peeking out from behind shuttered windows or closed doors. Something just didn't feel right.
The weary Praetorians shared his disquiet and fingers rested lightly on triggers, trans-weaponry sweeping rooftops and alleys for targets. Where the hell did these people go?
Without having to give an order, everyone became quiet as the sounds of battle faded and they delved further into the city. One of the newest and fastest growing districts on the outskirts of Iacon had sprung up here with rows upon rows of freshly manufactured housing and shops lining the streets. Just as he was about to call out, the crack! crack! crack! of high caliber rifles caused him to drop into a crouch and draw his sword in the same movement. Frantically searching for the ambushers, it took a minicycle for him to realize they weren't being shot at.
Glancing behind him, he saw that the rest had scattered into what cover they could find and were just as confused as Starscream was. Stormclaw sidled up to him with a worried expression. "Sir, do you know what the slag is going on?"
Starscream shook his head. "No idea. We need to find the source of that racket, and avoid alerting them if it turns out to be our friends from back there so we can get the rest by undetected. Tell the others to stay here, then pick the two best scouts to come with us."
"Come with us?"
"Aye, Sergeant. We're going hunting."
"Understood, sir."
. . . . . .
The newcomers were Thundercracker, a hulking, violet bot, and Slipstream, slim of stature with dark green accented by a black trim. When they introduced themselves, Starscream couldn't resist asking, "This a bit out of character for you, I expect. You sure you can keep quiet Thundercracker?"
A forced smile was the only response he received. "You got nothing to worry about with me." From what he could tell, Thundercracker probably didn't smile very much.
Slipstream elbowed the larger mech. "This one wouldn't know a good joke if it shot him in the face with a null-ray. I can vouch for him as a scout though, Commander," She said cheerily.
"We'll have to work on that after we secure our escape. Any idea where those shots are coming from?" As if hearing his question, they heard the sharp reports of rifle fire echo around them. Even the echo seemed wrong, oddly distorted.
Slipstream frowned. "It sounds like its coming from somewhere relatively close by, maybe someplace a few levels below us. That wou—"
Snapping his fingers, Thundercracker said, "There's a crashball court that's near here that's underground. Definitely far enough below the surface to make that kind of distortion screwing with the echo."
"Alright, let's check it out before we head back. I need to know how much of a presence they've got here so we can be prepared."
Taking the lead, Starscream and his small recon team made their way through several blocks of equally deserted buildings until they finally reached their destination. Huge barred gates had once closed off the main entrance above ground, but they looked semi-melted, and curled inward from some kind of detonation. His previous unease tightening, Starscream entered behind the scouts, following as they probed deeper into the subterranean entertainment center.
Nearing the massive court where the aggressive sport was played to the usual rabid encouragement of thousands, signs of life reappeared. Smeared trails of Energon here, a fallen children's toy there. Floodlights around the arena had been switched on, illuminating the shadow filled corridors that honeycombed the area with a ghostly light and then they heard the harsh reports of before, the sharp crack! crack! crack! filling the air.
With the intense glare obscuring his optics, the Seeker slowly crept forward until they adjusted. Waiting a spark beat, then two, he peered over the edge of the railing in the upper tier. Then he felt his [blood] run cold.
"Oh Primus." None of the savagery he'd witnessed before that point couldn't match the sheer, overwhelming horror of what he saw. Words failed him. Starscream felt his resistance weaken, until the last traces of restraint finally faded away. Only one thought made itself known before he lost himself to the red sea that rose from the depths of his soul.
Why?
