Duty and Deceit

Chapter 35

Choices, Decisions

"Argh!" The Prussian blue femme roared in frustration, slamming her fist into the table. Her mask was up, but it hid little of her annoyance. She hissed in discomfort as the right side of her body spasmodically attempted to transform into her alt-mode while the left side remained still. "I swear I'll murder that medic if he doesn't fix this. Soon."

The battle last orn had left her with an irreparably damaged t-cog. The Autobot battalion they'd run into had included the Autobot 'Terror Twins' along with Ironhide and the AFS - the Autobot Femme Squad. The Decepticons simply hadn't been prepared for that tiny abandoned nuclear plant in Sector 13 to be such high priority to the Autobots

So, she'd been landed in med-bay for repair and a half-orn rehabilitation time. Except the good medic had decided to try out an experimental brand of t-cog that would supposedly work at a hundred and fifty percent of the efficiency of her original t-cog, allowing her half the transformation time. That sounded great, so the spy didn't object.

Only the t-cog had 'a few minor glitches' as Knockout put it, which meant that random parts of her frame would rather painfully attempt to transform while the rest of her stayed stationary. After dealing with the malfunctioning t-cog and the vain and arrogant medic for three rotations... her patience had run very, very thin.

Nightracer cocked an optic ridge at her. "Why do hate him so much? Knockout, I mean."

Giving her slightly-larger friend a flat look, the spy snorted, her left pede hanging over the edge of the sofa, partially transformed, "Aside from him using me as a lab-rat and giving me glitchy experimental parts that make my frame try to be in two forms at once?"

The sniper smiled sweetly at her, "M-hmm!"

She sighed, watching her servos curl and uncurl seemingly of their own free will. "I don't 'hate' him, per say, I just... 'greatly dislike' him. He's vain, arrogant, and proud, and he thinks he's Primus' gift to Cybertron."

"You don't even give him a chance though... like just the mention of his name puts you in a mood." Nightracer insisted, biting the end of her stylus while she worked on a report.

She smiled in relief under her mask as all of her frame relaxed into its proper place. With Nightracer, she never had to worry about being asked to take down her mask. Because the shy clone had a mask of her own. Nightracer understood. Unfortunately, that also meant that very little excaped the sniper.

"I really don't know, Night." She answered finally. In all honesty, it was because Knockout reminded her so strongly of the school bully that would never leave Smokey alone. Some rich, high-class kid called Sunstorm. Up until the happy orn his family left town, she couldn't count the times she and Smokey had to share her Energon thanks to the golden example of arrogance incarnate. "Everything about him just rubs my armor the wrong way."

"Well, I guess that's valid..." Nightracer allowed, staring at the little two-wheeler's pedes, which had transformed into the back end of her vehicle-mode. "Maybe you should just have him give you the standard t-cog... If you offer to take his mess-hall clean-up shift for a few orns, Knockout'll probably forget about mastering the upgraded part."

The Protihexian femme laughed, standing up after forcing her pedes to transform back to bipedal mode. "We all know how much he loves clean-up duty. I'll go try that."

As she left, she heard Nightracer laugh, "Nothing like a bribe to sway the good medic... Good luck!"

Nemesis: Communications/Intel. Wing

"Commander Soundwave, good cycle." Terabyte greeted distractedly as her processors were set to both decoding the encryptions in her own mind and scanning all of the internet and planet for anything that could lead them to the Autobots. She was getting closer and closer to locating their base with every passing groon.

Recalling the reason Soundwave had left and the mood he had been when he left, the spy stood up and saluted him smartly. As soon as she had arrived and briefed her commander on the reason Blitzwing hadn't returned with her, the purple mech had been furious. Those Autobots had useful information. Information that would bring the Decepticons to their goals incredibly quickly.

And she had basically told the manic triple-changer to have fun murdering them.

Terabyte bit her lip, remembering how close her boss had been to attacking her. She'd never made him so mad as to resort to violence. She didn't even know that he could get that mad. But it was turning out that there was a lot she hadn't known. And in her absence, in-rank violence had seemingly spiked.

Or was it always like that and she'd simply been too blind to notice? The spy shook her helm. The voice was getting to her. She was beginning to believe it... somehow that didn't surprise her though. Because she had a sinking suspicion; a sinking suspicion that that voice was not so far away, and not so foreign as she tried to convince herself it was.

In the end, Soundwave had gone to Russia. When he came back, he had ordered Knockout to repair the two mechs whose lives he'd just saved. And she figured that he was probably going to have her interrogate them eventually.

For now though, all he did was nod to her briefly before stomping off to his office where he then locked the door.

Nemesis. Three Joors Since Capture. Brig.

Skyquake blinked his ruby optics online, quickly taking in the wonderful scenery of crackling blue Energon-bars a few feet away from his helm. His wings were still vaguely tingly from the blow to the wing-cons earlier. Shifting to relieve the pressure on his right wing, the olive jet groaned.

At least he was alive.

From a corner somewhere behind him, a cheery voice, practically dripping condescending irony, called, "Rise and shine, genius! Are you enjoying the generous hospitality of the hotel Nemesis?"

The jet sighed and rolled over to get more comfortable, only to land on his back on the metal floor with a resounding clang. Letting out yet another groan, Skyquake stopped the Autobot's coming remark with a low growl, "Shut up, little mech."

Cliffjumper merely laughed, lounging comfortably in his berth with his hands under his helm, one pede propped up on the other mangled limb. "Lotta good that little stunt back there in Russia gotcha, huh?"

Getting up and sitting back down on his own berth, Skyquake leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands, glaring at the prison bars, as if he could somehow make them go offline if he glared at them hard enough. He didn't humor the mech with an answer. He wouldn't go for that bait.

"What? You won't even talk to your fellow Autobot and prisoner?" The red mech asked, putting on an injured tone. "That hurts, mech, that hurts."

Sighing, Skyquake ran a hand over his face-plate and glanced over at the red mech. "That didn't exactly go according to plan, did it."

The Autobot laughed so loud, the guards started giving him weird looks. Slapping a hand against his upper pede, Cliffjumper laughed almost hysterically. "Well, if that isn't the biggest understatement of the vorn, I'm a 'Con!"

Once he'd calmed down a bit, the Autobot continued, dead serious. "You do know that what you did back there puts you pretty high up on my 'Hate Their Guts, Never Trust' list, right?"

"Of course." Skyquake conceded easily. That much was obvious. Very reasonable. He would do the same in his place. But the truth was, now that his plan had so blatantly failed, Skyquake had no thoughts of joining the Cons. If the opportunity arrived, he would, for Terabyte. But otherwise, he was going to focus on getting her back without joining Megatron.

"So..." Cliffjumper started slowly, dragging out the vowel, "If you were all 'I'm gonna be an Autobot now'... Why'd you do it?"

The mech stared at the floor for a while, not wanting to seem soft in front of the Autobot. He knew that to any Decepticon it would only be seen as a weakness. Surely to any good soldier it would be considered such. At this point though, the other mech would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to have not already worked it out.

He didn't do it to get back at the Autobots. He didn't do it to earn his way back into the Decepticon ranks. He didn't do it for fun, or glory.

No, he did it for the same reason he killed Prowl. For the same reason he stayed sane in the many lonely quartex he spent in solitude on this mud-ball. For the same reason he defected. One, simple reason, all summed up in a single word.

"Terabyte."

Cliffjumper made no response, nor did he react in any way. But somehow, Skyquake could tell that he understood. He understood and he respected the jet for it. The olive jet resumed his thoughtful staring at the floor, planning their escape.

Arizona: A Joor Previous

Bumblebee glanced over his shoulder into the valley below. Optimus and Bulkhead were standing perfectly still - or well, in Bulkhead's case, lying on his face in the dust - frozen by the Immobilizer, which was currently stashed in his subspace in about a million little pieces.

Ratchet would kill him for so thoroughly breaking the ancient device. If there was anything left of him when Arcee discovered that he hadn't been able to stop Airachnid before Bulk and Optimus were Immobilized. Bumblebee heaved a worried sigh.

Optimus was like a father to him… Had been since Megatron bombed Praxus. And now he didn't even know if the kind Prime would ever be de-Immobilized.

Especially since he broke the device.

'I needed that...' He thought with a tiny, worried smirk. Beeping and buzzing despondently, the yellow scout's thick black optic ridges pulled down into a frown. If Ratchet couldn't fix them… Bumblebee knew it wasn't his fault. He kept reminding himself of that. But his spark wasn't buying it.

The yellow scout hiked up to the very top of the ridge and looked down to where they had left Arcee to guard Starscream. The smell of spilt life-En washed over him and his face scrunched up in disappointment and concern. He'd been hoping something like this wouldn't have happened...

Jerking his helm up, Bumblebee found he'd done so just in time to see Starscream soar off over the horizon. Arcee stood hunched over, clutching her abdomen, from which life-En was gushing freely down her side.

Oh no... "Arcee?" He called tentatively, letting out a few whirs and beeps of regret. He already knew the answer to what he was about to ask. Nevertheless, he asked hopefully, "What happened? Did Starscream break free and make a run for it?"

Venting harshly, she sighed, seeming to wilt under his gaze. Bumblebee knew that she could see how sad he was that she hadn't been able to restrain herself. "No..." Her tone suggested that she thought her next words were justification enough, "'Bee, he killed Tailgate."

Bumblebee buzzed in understanding. That was a good enough reason for him. He certainly knew that he'd have done the same in her place. "I know what Optimus would say..."

"'Everyone deserves a second chance, no matter what crimes they have committed.'" They both said in unison. Bee smiled, beeping and trilling like he always did when he laughed.

"But, really..." The yellow scout said, patting her shoulder gently with an encouraging round of bleeps and whirls. "I hope you gave him what-for!"

Meanwhile. Nemesis, Bridge

"You left Starscream to the Autobots?" Megatron roared into her face, his own rusted face-plates inches from hers. "Do you have any notion of the consequences of your blunder?!"

The warlord had to respect that even under the full attention of his fury, the femme at whom he was yelling stood her ground, her violet lips pursed tightly together. Her lavender optics burned bright, her tone remaining respectful as her processors no doubt rushed to find a way to pass the blame off to someone else, "But my lordship, it was Starscream's incompetence that cost us the Immobilizer."

Of course she would blame Starscream. Everyone on this ship knew that he found the sly, treacherous mech distasteful. They knew that just as well as they knew that usually when something went wrong it was, in fact, Starscream's fault.

But this time he knew that that was not the case. At this current point in time, the Immobilizer mattered little. It was merely a tool that might have been of use, had the Autobots not meddled.

"I don't care about some trinket!" Megatron spat in her face, causing her to lean back to the point that she had to use a few of her insectoid legs to support herself. "My second in command is a prisoner of the enemy, which means all Decepticon knowledge is within the Autobots' grasp!"

He glared at her, fuming. His vents heaved to keep his large and irate frame from overheating.

The purple and black arachnid's armor shrank tight to her frame as she braced herself for some form of physical punishment. Squeezing one optic shut, Airachnid took a half-step backwards.

Rising suddenly, Megatron turned his back to her, clasping his hands behind his back and snarling in disgust. Flinging one hand out in a dismissive gesture, he said, "You're pathetic, spider. Leave my presence."

"Yes my lord." She hissed respectfully, quick to oblige. "Shall I lead a rescue?"

"My patience wears thin, femme." Megatron warned with a deep growl, the warning serving as a clear enough answer for Airachnid. She made her exit post-haste.

He glared through the port-hole, schemes and plots to get his second back with no strings attached swirling through the silver warlord's helm. Starscream couldn't be trusted not to spill everything he knew if it would further his own treacherous goals. Which meant that all of Decepticon knowledge hung in the balance.

Megatron smirked. If necessary, they could always do the classic mech for mech trade... But if at all possible, he would very much rather get his mech back without giving the enemy anything of use. Energon perhaps? The Prime would not be fool enough to jump on such an offer. Not while one of his mechs was being held captive.

Soundwave would easily be able to get all the information he wanted from the red Autobot. Then, once Cliffjumper was well and truly broken and drained of intel, Megatron would propose a hostage trade. Optimus Prime would of course agree once he placed all of his terms to ensure that he wouldn't try to pull any tricks.

"I vill see ze Keeng of Cons!" A heavily accented voice announced cheerily outside. Seeming to change moods completely, the mech coldly said, "I have vaited long eenough, Veeheecon. I vill politely ashk zhat you get out of my vay."

Megatron listened with interest as the guard attempted to convince the mech that 'His Lordship' was preoccupied and would not be taking impromptu visitors. Whoever the would-be visitor was, did not take this well at all. A loud yell of outrage echoed through the ship. There was a loud crash as the guard was likely smashed into the wall, followed by the terrified sounds of a mech whose lifeline was in another's servos.

"I shaid, I vill see our leeader. I did not ashk you eef eet vould be conveenieent." The intruder growled, the guards pedes audible rattling against the wall. After a while longer, the guard went still. Pitiful. The unknown voice returned to the cold, calm, and collected tone. "Payrhaps next time, you vill be more heelp-full, yes?"

The silver warlord grinned, not particularly caring that the Vehicon coward had perished. It was however slightly irking that he'd now require a new guard. Megatron turned around to face the doors, waiting for this mech to enter at any moment. Purple optics glowing bright, the warlord chuckled. He liked this guy already.

The doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a large - larger than himself even, which was mildly surprising - triple-changer. Painted a simple sand color, accented with deep royal purple, the mech's face was a pale blue, adorned with a red monocle over his left optic.

Powerful jet turbines perched on his shoulders, the tank's cannons sticking up from behind his wings. Wide tank treads made up the mech's calves. It was very clear that both of the mech's alt-modes were very powerful. Soundwave's lieutenant commander had a good optic for strong soldiers. This mech would be a powerful asset.

"Eet has been quite a vhile, Lord Maygatron. How goes ze Var?" The triple-changer inquired coolly.

"The War goes well, Lieutenant Blitzwing. Much has occurred in your absence." Megatron replied, going through with the formalities.

Blitzwing's face went hard before melting into a new face completely, this one a maroon color with a red visor and a small gap in the top denta. Somehow the face of wrath maintained a relatively respectful tone, "I shoould zink, your Graytness, zat my 'shleep' vas razzer long... Vouldn't you agree? I zink, vith reeshpect, zat," He slammed his fists together meaningfully, "Shome compenshation eez een order!"

Narrowing his optics, Megatron regarded the mech carefully, his lip-plates curling into a sneer. "Do you really."

"Yes, your Lordsheep." The tan mech responded, continuing to spit his titles like insults, not at all intimidated by the look that would have most mechs groveling at his feet, pleading forgiveness. "Sheven vorns eez a vaary long time to be een sholitude on a preemitive organic vorld."

Yes. Megatron mused, he quite liked this mech.

"I see..." He said thoughtfully. He would humor the triple-changer. "What form would you expect this... compensation of yours to come in?"

Blitzwing's visor lit up briefly before his face melted into blackness, a bright red scribbled grin and large oval optics being the only color in the face. "You meean I get zoo choose? Oooh, sho many choices!"

Before Megatron could offer any suggestions - ones that would cost him little - Blitzwing's face changed back over to the main face, the one of logic. "I asshume zat Cybayrtron eez dayd by now, yes? Eet vas dyeeng vhen I leeft. So craydits vould be practeecally usheless."

"Very perceptive." Megatron commented, scowling. Credits would have been his first choice; like the mech said, credits were practically useless now.

Angry face. "Vith all due reeshpect my lord, I vant to shmash your rusty face een as my compenshation."

Megatron's scowl deepened substantially. His patience could only stretch so far before it would snap. And no one wanted to be around when he snapped. Growling lightly, his lips pulled up in a snarl, "Obviously that is not a viable form of payment, Lieutenant."

Crazy face. Blitzwing's scribbled grin flipped upside down, and he cocked his helm to the side, hands clasped in a pleading gesture. When he spoke his voice was whiny, "Awww... Pleease, my lord? I vould ever sho enjoy eet! I vouldn't need any ozzer payment..."

"No!" The warlord barked out roughly, causing Blitzwing's face to turn sour.

"I zought eet shounded like an eckshellent deeal." The mech pouted, glaring at the floor as his face morphed back into anger. Glaring a hole into his spark - if he still had a spark, Megatron thought wryly - Blitzwing shouted, "Vhat elshe do you have to offer zhen?! Zat's all I vant!"

Megatron glared at the triple-changer flatly. Negotiations were failing. Logic had no standing with the insane. He growled impatiently. Negotiations were about to get very physical. This mech needed to be taught his place. Memorably.

Rising slowly, the warlord felt the Dark Energon flowing through him thrum in pleasure and anticipation. The energy was purely evil, taking joy in other's suffering, consuming his thoughts with the thrill of the hunt. He was immortal, invincible, unstoppable. He was... Megatron.

"You've stepped out of line, soldier." He said, his tone terrifyingly eager as he walked at a leisurely pace towards Blitzwing. The larger, three-faced mech shuddered noticeably. The mech's wings flicked back slightly, a sure sign of fear. Grinding out each word, he continued, "I dare say that line needs to be drawn a little clearer. Deep enough to leave a permanent mark."

The triple-changer took a nervous step backwards. The cold blue face appeared, twisted into a fearful grimace. "My lord... eh, I shpoke een haste..."

Jack-o-lantern, also - though perhaps not so defined - showing signs of fear. He cackled madly, "A meere jesht..." Megatron grinned as the mech's optics widened as his dorsal plates touched the wall. The warlord did not slow his pace. "Ah-hah... ha... Not sho funny, zhen?"

Megatron slammed his sword into the wall microns from Blitzwing's helm, relishing the mech's frightened squeal, his face swapping to the angry one, only a little bit wary. That would soon change though. The face of logic would soon be joined in his terror. All of his soldiers must learn respect.

This mech just happened to be a three-in-one package.

"You vish to challaynge me?!" Blitzwing roared in his face, attempting to shove him away and only succeeding in putting a few feet between them. The warlord's expression remained impassive as he tossed aside his cannon pointedly, causing Blitzwing to snarl and follow suit. "Zhen I vill show you ze true meaneeng of pain, and take my reevard!"

Crazy. Blitzwing pulled back his fist, swinging a full-weight punch, all the while singing to the Earth song 'London Bridge', "May-gatron eez fall-eeng dayd, fall-eeng dayd, fall-eeng dayd! May-gatron eez fall-eeng dayd, my poor Leeader!"

Growling as the younglingish tune instantly ingrained itself into his processors, repeating again and again and again, Megatron reached out with lightning fast reflexes, enhanced by the Dark En. Latching onto the larger tank-jet's wrist, the silver warlord threw his own weight, using Blitzwing's mass and momentum to double his strength, slamming the triple-changer into the metal floor with a deafening crash that rang through the bridge like a bell.

Blitzwing giggled.

Megatron blinked.

The tan and purple mech lay crushed in the dented floor, totally faceless and giggling.

A rather disturbing combination of all three faces meshed together into one grotesque image flickered to life on the blank face-plate, grinning loopily. "Zat vas fun... let'sh do eet agayn shometime eh, Bossh?"

Rolling his optics disgustedly, Megatron walked back to his throne, stepping harshly on Blitzwing's left wingtip as he passed, contacting Knockout boredly. That had been rather... disappointing. He'd expected more of a fight. /You have a patient indenting my floor, Doctor. Fix it./

Next Day: Communications and Intel

"Whazzup?" Miko's voice asked nonchalantly through Soundwave, the mech as usual choosing to speak through records.

Terabyte's black finial twitched as she replied calmly, "Everything is in good order."

More insistently, Soundwave poked a long, accusing servo at her spark chamber. Megatron's voice boomed out, "Status report, soldier!"

"All is in order." The tiny spy repeated, her tell-tale twitch continuing. "There is nothing wrong, Commander." Turning to leave, she said, "If you will excuse me, sir, I will interrogate the prisoners."

As she left, Terabyte could feel the stoic head of communication's optics boring holes through her steel gray dorsal plates. He suspected she was lying. But ever since she'd seen Skyquake, that voice in her helm had only gotten louder. And it was getting much harder to ignore, as she agreed with a lot of what it had to say.

The femme took her sweet precious time walking to the brig. She was pretty sure that this interrogation would be harder than the rest. Because she knew these mechs. And that voice was determined that they were both very real and a lot closer to her than she'd ever intended.

Terabyte frowned slightly. Speaking of the voice, she wondered if they would hear it when she synced with them through the hub. Hopefully not. An interrogator would never be successful if he/she showed any signs of weakness.

Arriving at the brig, she nodded swiftly to the Vehicon on guard duty. With a hissing pop, the energy bars went offline. "I want a sound-proof force-field around this cell, understood?"

The Vehicon pressed several buttons on his terminal and nodded. "In place, ma'am."

"Hey, TB! Wondered when you'd come visit..." The red mech hollered in a jovial voice from where he lay on a berth, kicked back in a perfectly relaxed position. Skyquake just gave her a sad little smile, nodding his helm in respect to her.

Baffled by this somewhat out-of-character action from the jet, Terabyte nodded slowly in return, reminding herself that the mech in front of her was not her Skyquake. Taking a step forward, the spy felt and heard the energy bars come back to life, the heat from them licking at her dorsal plates.

"I want you to tell me the coordinates of your base." She stated flatly. Not that she expected it to be that easy.

Ignoring her demand completely, Cliffjumper sat upright and motioned for her to take a seat beside him. She, in turn, completely ignored the gesture. He smiled, starting up conversationally, "So TB, what's new?"

"Last I checked, you were not in charge of this procedure, Autobot. I ask the questions."

"Oh," He laughed, ignoring her hard, no-nonsense tone, "Oh yeah, you're here to prove your worth as a Decepticon by beating us both within an inch of our sparks, right?"

Her face-plates pulled taut, her hidden lips pursed together. If looks could kill, he'd have been dying. "While that may be the Autobot way, we are not sparkless savages."

Behind her, Skyquake growled deeply. "You lived amongst us naive and shielded, Terabyte. You never heard one of Megatron's speeches, you never attended public disciplinary beatings or executions, you have never given scourgings nor taken any... You never had a clue what the Decepticons really are."

"And I would be all the wiser to trust the word of a dead mech?" She retorted testily, her finials pinned back in annoyance. He's not dead, the locked side of her mind grumbed. It went on to inform her that she would not hurt either of them. In fact, she would even help them escape. Terabyte snorted at the voice, "Yeah right. Good luck with that one, Voice."

Cliffjumper and Skyquake both stood up, giving her worried looks. The red Autobot shielded his mouth with one hand and leaned over confidentially, whispering not-so-quietly, "Was it just me, or is she talking to herself here?"

Terabyte glared at him, her tone flat. "Was it just me or is she standing right in front of you?"

Both mechs were still not paying too much attention to her. The spy sighed. Fine. She'd just have to get their attention by more... direct methods. They were prisoners here, and it seemed they needed a little reminder of that.

"...ot working. Now we do it your way." Skyquake said, not sounding like he much approved of whatever Cliffjumper's plan for whatever was.

Right as, in a blur of black and red, Terabyte lunged forward to slam Cliffjumper back into his seat with enough force to put him in his place, the red mech's hand struck out to catch her wrist, his other fist flying towards her helm. She'd hardly realized what had happened before her frame began to go limp in Clffjumper's arms.

He caught her gently as Terabyte's stiff, flared frame went completely limp. Cliffjumper sighed heavily and studied the calm expression on what he could see of her face. She seemed so tiny when she was relaxed... So young.

Skyquake's engine whined quietly beside him and the red mech nodded his helm, trying to bring his thoughts back to their plan. He'd hoped that the olive jet's idea of reasoning with her had worked. He really hadn't wanted to have knock her out. But things rarely went the way he wanted.

"Did you have to hit her so hard?" Skyquake growled at him, his wings hunched forward in concern.

The jet was so protective of her. Cliff wondered just how long the mech had been protecting her in the Decepticon ranks. Apparently for as long as she'd been a 'Con. Skyquake was as much her bodyguard as he was her friend. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of femme Terabyte would have been if it weren't for the jet.

Though in all honesty, he had a feeling that it wouldn't be too far-fetched to say he was getting a glimpse of that every time he looked at the twisted En-thirsty femme the 'Cons had made her to be.

"If I'd hit her any gentler, I'd be on the floor with half my chassis in her fists." The Autobot muttered quietly. He didn't doubt it either. The little femme was a skilled fighter. Most two-wheelers were. Big punches packed into little fists.

The olive jet chuckled knowingly, "Very true, little mech, very true."

"Aww, c'mon!" Cliffjumper moaned good-naturedly, a grin taking form on his own face, "I do have a name, Jetbrain. Besides, I'm not little. You're just, like, the 'Jumbo' version of Starscream."

The battle-class jet scowled indignantly, smirking all the while, "Now that was just downright nasty."

He laughed, bending down to hoist Terabyte's limp frame over his shoulder. Grunting slightly, he got her half-way up before she slid down to the floor again.

"Sweet Unicron, she weighs as much as Bumblebee!" Cliffjumper exclaimed, having been unprepared for her slight frame to be so dense. It was by no means beyond his abilities to lift her, he just hadn't been expecting lifting her to be comparable to lifting Bee.

Bending down for another attempt, Skyquake pushed him aside lightly. Or at least he figured the jet thought he was being gentle. Cliffjumper fell back hard on the numb pede, sending a spike of red hot pain searing up the limb. Biting back a hiss, Cliffjumper backed away, throwing up a smile.

"I'll go ahead and leave you to carry your femme then... and I'll fight our way outta here, right?"

Skyquake growled at him again, hoisting Terabyte over his shoulder with surprising amounts of care. "Terabyte is her own femme, as I'm sure she'd be quite eager to inform you. And I can fight one-handed twice as well as you could normally."

Cliffjumper snorted, "You wanna bet on that?"

"What are the stakes?" The olive mech replied with a smirk, raising one optic ridge in question.

"Winner gets the big berth for a month." He replied instantly, his frame stiff from long nights in the nook of his berthroom. "Loser gets... A month's inventory duty for Ratch'."

"Ouch..." The jet muttered, sneering, "Sounds fair... May the best mech win."

He nodded, his smug, beaming expression flickering slightly as he turned to stare at the blue energy bars still providing a very unforgiving wall of crackling electricity. "So. Now that we've settled those issues of great importance... We forgot to get the comm frequency before knocking her out."

"Correction: You forgot to get the comm frequency before knocking her out." Skyquake informed him flatly, his ruby optics dimming as he tried to think of ways out of this mess.

Cliffjumper groaned, flopping down onto the hard, purple-tinted berth. This was just lovely. Absolutely grand. Now they were effectively trapped, no closer to freedom than before, only now they were trapped with a rather high-ranked - and rather unconscious - Decepticon femme.

"Are you saying that you've got the frequency somehow?" He asked, annoyed.

"Well..." The jet averted his gaze, admitting somewhat guiltily, "No... I was just ensuring we both knew that I am in no way at fault here."

"Sure. Thanks." Cliffjumper grumbled sarcastically, rolling his optics and poking around mindlessly at his half-silver pede. "I'm glad we got that ironed out. It really brought us closer to getting out of this stupid purple prison."

At least the top half was the same color as the rest of him, even if didn't look the same. And he had to admit that the new pede looked cool in some weird, disfigured way. It looked almost Decepticon in design, all edges and points as opposed to the softer, rounded Autobot style.

Skyquake didn't respond for a while, opting to try glaring a hole through the floor. After several klicks, he began to wonder if the jet was actually making progress. That was how sharp his glare was.

Finally, the olive mech gasped, practically bouncing, "Why didn't I think of that earlier!"

"Think of what?"

The jet ignored him completely, ruby optics dimming as he commed someone. After a moment, the bars went down with a fizzle and a pop, a Vehicon poking his helm around the corner. Before Cliffjumper could do more than stand up, Skyquake had punched the mech in the face, smashing the visor and sending the mech into the wall with a thud.

Skyquake shrugged, his optics grinning in challenge as he tore the other guard's helm off. "Two. Guard said our weapons are stashed two levels up. Try to keep up, little mech."

He snarled, pushing past the jet and jogging in a direction he hoped would eventually have a lift. Turning left at a junction, Cliffjumper sucker-punched the Vehicon that came strolling into him, throwing the purple mech into his two buddies, knocking them out against the wall.

"Three!" He hollered triumphantly. Hearing a crash and no response from the jet, he turned around.

Down the opposite hall, unconscious Vehicons were strewn all along the walls, mostly in piles of two or three. Some Cliffjumper doubted would ever wake up. Scowling, he followed the trail Skyquake had left behind.

Reaching a lift, Cliffjumper glared at the jet who was leaning casually against the lift with Terabyte still slung over his shoulder, one hand around her knees to keep her from falling. Beside him, a couple more Vehicons were slumped against the wall.

"Seventeen." The jet greeted with a grin. "You?"

Cliffjumper spun around and sharply kicked the mech behind him that was stirring groggily.

"Four." He spat sullenly.

"That one was already down!" Skyquake protested, straightening and calling a lift.

Cliffjumper gave him 'The Look'. Which was ignored by its recipient. "Aww, c'mon, mech. He was still moving. Besides..." Pulling up the ultimate, turbo-puppy face, Cliff continued, "You can't say no to this face."

The jet kept a perfectly straight face, "No. Doesn't count. No, no, no."

The red mech laughed. He'd probably lose this bet. Actually, make that almost certainly. But he had to respect the mech. He respected anyone who could resist both 'The Look' and the turbo-puppy face after two orns without recharge. Prime went into that category. So did Arcee. Usually.

Maybe this guy wasn't half-bad after all.

Half an Hour Later.

"Twenty-six, and that's my final." The jet said gruffly, shifting Terabyte to his other shoulder as they ran towards the bridge Cliffjumper had requested, dodging enemy weapons-fire as they went. "How 'bout you, little mech?"

Okay. Scrap three breems ago. This mech was horrible. Cliffjumper repressed the urge to punch Skyquake in the face and claim victory. The only reason he was able to repress said urge was because he knew that if he did that, Optimus would probably make him carry both of them all the way back to base as punishment.

Emerging back at base, the swirling emerald portal shut down as soon as they were through. Cliffjumper mumbled sourly, "Thirteen."

"That's convenient." Skyquake commented smugly.

"Yeah, yeah. Congrats, Jetbrain." He muttered. Smiling brightly, he finished, "You've made it official! You actually are capable of multi-tasking!"

The mech smirked, "Oh, sure. You're just a sore loser, little mech."

Cliffjumper ignored him and looked around for their welcoming party. The whole main chamber was deserted. Ratchet had left the room as soon as they'd arrived and was over in the med-bay tinkering. No one else was anywhere to be found. A little mop was lying on the floor in front of the bridge.

"Hello?" He asked. No response. Lip-plates twitching downward for a moment, Cliffjumper hummed. "That's weird. Heell-looo?"

Still nothing. "Hey, Doc? Where is everyone?"

The medic huffed. "Out."

Cliffjumper was about to holler back something about how amazingly helpful and informative that reply was when Skyquake's engine let out a low rumble.

"We can worry about them later..." The army green jet grunted, kneeling down to lay Terabyte down gently on the cool concrete floor. "She's waking up."