Interlude IV
"'Beat"
The room was small. Tiny. High up. And shielded. Just not for his safety. That honour belonged to someone else, on the other side. Soon.
"Will you be okay, sir?" Gearbox asked.
The Mech nodded. Ushered him out.
"I'll come back for you. If I need to." Gearbox pointedly looked at the stack of energon cubes in the corner, counting them. Deducing how long they would last. A while, the Mech knew. Long enough to wait.
"You can go," the Mech said. "Don't miss your shift."
"I have the off-cycle free," Gearbox persisted.
"Then waste it on something more productive than me. You've done enough."
Gearbox hesitated. "Will... will you be alright sir? Really?"
The Mech looked at him. He didn't say anything. Neither of them did. Nothing else needed to be explained. Gearbox ducked his helm and stopped by the door. He hesitated.
"It was an honour," he said at last.
An honour. Sure. The Mech dipped his chin. Gearbox left him, then. The door slid shut behind him - and locked tight, its internal mechanisms abuzz with a new viral intrusion. No getting in. No getting out. The Mech vented, doubled checked his Stygian and ran his digits over the rifle's frame. He could hear music, far below. It carried up through the tower as a dull beat, a low thumping that rose and lulled like waves.
The Mech's communicator buzzed. A single message.
::Update: security breached. Status: I am inside. Target: en route. ETA: Three decaorns.::
"I hear you," the Mech murmured. He paced by the window, placed his Stygian just below and knelt down. "I hear you."
Iacon sparkled below in the gloom of midnight. It might have been beautiful, if not for the filth underneath, running through the streets and clogging up the lower levels. The Curia rested in the middle of it all, the city-state's glorious crown jewel. There was a square below, one of the many open auditoriums carved out for the comforts of the Councillors.
And all he saw in his mind were a pair of optics going grey and a single blue-and-amber eye opening wide.