Author's Note: As always I don't own.

I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story so far. You guys have left such wonderful comments. I hope I can continue to deserve them.

Please let me know if you guys notice and spelling or grammar issues. Also please keep a sharp eye out for continuity errors. Some of them are intentional, but I want to catch any that aren't (such as how someone dies, how something can be killed, etc).

I hope you guys enjoy the latest chapter.

Bluestreak thought he felt cold, but he couldn't feel his frame. It reminded him of long missions he used to go on wouldn't move for orns at a time to catch his target. It was as though his spark was turning to ice. He refused to panic. Instead he focused on remaining calm by reciting his and Bumblebee's favorite TV episodes. At least he was able to think, but thinking wasn't always a good thing. Thinking lead to dark places.

Bluestreak had no luck powering up his optics. He could hear, at least he thought he could hear. There was a strange humming sound. It consumed his being. It matched the pulse of his spark. In a way it was oddly comforting. He was still too cold.

What was he thinking? He was a former sniper of the Autobot army. He needed to…he needed to… he needed to relax. He had plenty of time to figure this out. He had been stationary for much longer. Bluestreak slowly allowed himself to be pulled back into oblivion.

Red Alert was having a bad day. The camera updates he had scheduled were not going as planned. Sideswipe had taken the opportunity to use the random camera blackouts to glitter bomb the hallways. He had only managed to be caught because Grimlock had walked into one of the bombs. Grimlock was currently being vacuumed out by a very grumpy Ratchet, while Sideswipe cleaned up the hallways.

Glitter, as it turned out, was very difficult to clean. Red Alert signed as he tested another motion camera. "I'm going to need Jazz's team to check for blind spots again," grumbled Red Alert. At least Special Operations were less likely to plant glitter anywhere. Too flashy for their taste and it got everywhere.

A small buzzer behind where he sat went off. A young minibot, Pipes, checked the incoming message. "Sir," he said.

"What is it?" asked Red Alert. "I told everyone not to interrupt me while I'm updating the camera."

"But sir," said Pipes. "It's from one of the rehab centers."

That caught Red Alert's attention. "What are they reporting?"

"It looks like a breakout," said Pipes.

"How bad?" asked Red Alert. His horns were starting to spark with the stress. They did not need a mass breakout of crazy former Decepticons running around.

"We'll they're reporting one mech missing," said Pipes. "And, oh Primus."

"What?" asked Red Alert. His horns were now sparking in a quick pulse. "What else are they reporting? Is it a hostage situation?"

"Sir, they're reporting 13 fatalities," said Pipes in a small voice. Just because he was the messenger didn't mean he wanted to be the one to make Red Alert glitch. Ratchet routinely threatened anyone who dared glitch Red Alert or Prowl with an invasive filter cleaning. "They're reporting that the dead mechs have all been, well, offered to each of the 13 original Primes."

That was all it took for Red Alert's world to go black.

"Dear Primus, how did I get involved with this?" asked Smokescreen.

"Usually Ah'd ah had Prowler here," said Jazz surveying the gruesome scene. "But Ah can't get a hold ah 'im and 'Bee."

"Yes, but I would have thought Ratchet or First Aid would be better suited," said Smokescreen. "Why me?"

"Ya worked with tha enforcahs before tha war," said Jazz.

"As a white collar criminal consultant," said Smokescreen. "I never worked with homicide."

One of the guards walked up to Jazz and Smokescreen. "Sirs," he said. "I am 1st Capitan Cornerstone. I'm currently in charge of things here."

"Ah've seen yur service record," said Jazz shaking Cornerstone's servo. "Whut exactly happened here?"

"We're still investigating everything. If I hadn't seen the recordings, I wouldn't believe it myself," said Cornerstone.

"And that would be?" asked Smokescreen. He was tired of all the cryptic bullslag.

"Well, something, we're not sure what, caused a massive power outage in this section. The backup generator kicked on right away like it's supposed to, except for this block," explained Cornerstone. "When we were finally able to restore power eleven of the inmates were dead along with two guards."

"How long was the power out in this section?" asked Smokescreen.

"About 5 breems," said Cornerstone. "We've checked for any visuals or audios that might have been recorded during that time, nothing."

"Is everyone accounted fer?" asked Jazz.

"All except one inmate," said Cornerstone. "We're not sure how he escaped. The doors can only be opened when there's power going through them."

"Is that true for all of the cell doors as well?" asked Smokescreen.

"Yep," said Cornerstone. "That's what makes all of this so fragging unbelievable. None of the inmates should have been able to get out of their cells, let alone into another inmate's cell. Yet, each inmate has been found mutilated in their own cells."

"And who was it that escaped?" asked Jazz.

"Barricade," said Cornerstone.

Smokescreen's wings hitched way up at the name. Jazz didn't show it, but hearing that the mech Prowl checked on was the one who escaped set him on edge. "Was Barricade acting any different than normal before this happened?" asked Jazz.

"What's normal in this place?" asked Cornerstone. "This section hosts the craziest of the crazy Decepticons."

"Anything at all?" asked Smokescreen.

"Well," said Cornerstone. "We can give you the surveillance for his cell from the last few orns for you to look at. Not sure it'll do you any good. He never really did much unless Prowl was here."

Smokescreen looked at the cell that had been Chop Shops. His limbs hung from the ceiling like one of his eviscerated dolls. "And the others?" he asked.

"They were a bit more active," said Cornerstone. "We had to move Vortex to a different wing because of Chop Shop's doll hobby."

"And who were tah two mechs who weren't inmates?" asked Jazz.

"Tempest was our psychology expert," said Cornerstone. "He wasn't really an expert, but he was the closest thing we had."

Cornerstone had to take a klik to get his emotions under control. "Ranger was a guard here. He was…he was a good friend."

Jazz nodded. Prowl had mentioned Ranger, apparently he had been recruited out of a neutral colony to guard a POW camp. Barricade had not made his death quick or painless. His body had been impaled against the back wall of Barricade's former cell and his internals sliced out. He would have lasted a few breems before succumbing to his injuries. Jazz had seen Barricade's handy work before. He had only managed to save one of his agents from the mad mech.

"Do we have any ideas as to where 'es goin?" asked Jazz.

"Unfortunately not at this time," admitted Cornerstone. "But like I said, maybe his surveillance tapes will help."

"Thank you Cornerstone," said Jazz. He turned to Smokescreen. "It looks like we're going to have a long orn."

"Great, you do remember I never actually graduated from my psychology program, right?" asked Smokescreen.

Jazz shrugged. "Prime and Ratchet don't seem to mind. And your methods have been shown to work."

Smokescreen stamped his ped. "This is completely different," he said. "I wasn't trained to understand the criminally insane."

"No, but you are a tactician," Jazz snapped back. "And we need to know where Barricade is headed, now."

Thundercracker checked the area outside the townhouse again. The weird mech had disappeared, but that didn't mean the area was safe. He looked down at the sparkling in his arms. The little guy hadn't made a sound since Thundercracker had found him.

A few breems after he had found the sparkling, he had gotten a signal from a shuttle approaching the city. He signal was Autobot, but that didn't mean they were friendly. Unfortunately, the mech who had attacked him had shredded his wings, so there was no way he could fly the two of them to safety. They would have to travel on the ground and hope the mechs on the shuttle were friendly.

"What do you think?" Thundercracker asked the sparkling. "Do you think that was the only dangerous mech around?"

The youngling shivered, but otherwise didn't acknowledge Thundercracker's question. Thundercrack wasn't sure if it was because the youngling was unwilling or unable to speak.

"I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to climb up to the roof and walk along the row of houses," said Thundercracker out loud. He adjusted his grip on the youngling. "I'm going to put you in my canopy, alright?"

The youngling looked up at Thundercracker with big blue optics. After a klik of staring, the youngling nodded his helm once. Thundercracker opened his canopy and helped the little guy inside. Once the youngling was secured, he closed his canopy and checked outside the window again.

"If I remember right," said Thundercracker. "There should be a way onto the roof from the attic. Now, where was the entrance to the attic?"

Thundercracker had only been in the attic of this townhouse once and that was to help put the Festival of Lights decorations away for the season. It had been the last time he had been in this townhouse until the fall of Praxus. Thundercracker rubbed the area around his spark chamber. He didn't want to think about the fall of Praxus and the horrors he had committed that day.

"The washracks," said Thundercracker. "It's in the back of the spare closet." Thundercracker hurried to the washracks and opened the small door at the back of the closet. He quickly climbed up the narrow staircase and found himself in the dust filled attic. He knocked into one of the many boxes that littered the room.

A quiet melody began to play. It startled Thundercracker and he almost tripped over his peds. An old music box had fallen from it spot on one of the boxes. Thundercracker recognized from his younglinghood. He picked it up and set it back on the box. The youngling shifted in his canopy. Perhaps he recognized the lullaby. Impulsively, Thundercracker picked the music box back up and sub-spaced it.

Thundercracker reached the window that lead out to the roof of the townhouse. He unlatched the window and looked out. The deathly grey mech was still nowhere in sight. Thundercracker slipped out of the window and hoisted himself up onto the roof. It was stable. Hopefully it was a sign that his luck was changing.