Transitional Stages02-04: Tempus Fugit0

Note: Note: Warnings for this and subsequent chapters include: period accurate language that includes slurs, homophobia, very politically incorrect attitudes about disabilities and mental illness in general, and other sensitive topics. There is also body horror as well as body dysmorphism, stalking behaviors, self-harming, moral ambivalent to outright criminal behavior, discussion of conspiracy theory nonsense, violence, brutality, and fnord. Please remember that this is a work of fiction. Actions taken by the characters are to progress the plot or otherwise enhance the story. If it sounds dangerous, illegal, or morally dubious to do in the real world, then the author wishes to remind you that you shouldn't do it yourself nor do I condone a lot of shit that went down in the 80s and 90s.

"[So what are we doing again?]" Chip asked, clinging to Hellrider's roof as they speed down the deserted streets.

"[We are going to get ourselves some cash, buddy-boy!]"

"[Uh, how? Knock Out said we weren't getting paid for another week!]"

"[You'll see, Chip.]"

They were soon in sight of a massive building that had somehow survived the various bombings and battles that had ravaged much of Iacon. They came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the stairs leading up into the building that was a true statement of monumental architecture found in government offices and…

"…a bank?" asked Chip, hopping over to a sign. "High Financial Offices and Bank of Iacon."

"Yeah." Transforming, Hellrider went over to him with a huge smile.

"And what are we doing?"

"We are going to make a little withdrawal."

"…how? This place looks like it's been abandoned for centuries!"

"Yeah. But the vaults are still full of loot, my friend."

"And just how are we getting in?"

"Yeah! How are you getting in?" asked Misfire as he and Fulcrum transformed, touching down just behind them.

"We're just going to walk in and…"

"Get shot," said Fulcrum. "The automated security system is still active. You can't even get into that lobby unless you got…"

"The right pass-codes," Hellrider finished, strolling over to one of surprisingly untouched corpses strewn about the plaza. Leaning down, he stabbed a needle into it and started looking around it's brain module.

"…oh yeah," said Fulcrum with a little frown. "Forgot you were one of those mnemonic surgeons…"

Misfire went over to watch. "Hey, ain't this dangerous? I heard if you do this with dead people, it can fry your brains or something like that."

"Frankly, after piecing idiots back together and putting up with Motormaster's never-ending torrent of bullshit for the past couple of days while trying to keep Breakdown from murdering him…"

"And you've only slept about three hours in the past few days…" Chip interjected. "I mean, you were literally passed out in a chair when Knock-Out had me go get you to help finish scrapping Darkwing off the ceiling…"

"Right. That too. After all that shit, let's just say I'm shocked it ain't fried already." Finishing extracting the information, he went over to another corpse and repeated the process. Five corpses later, Hellrider was satisfied he had enough codes, he went back to the third corpse and tore off it's head and right arm. Taking out a battery, he hooked it up to the severed parts, causing the optics to light up and the hand to twitch. Going around to a side door, he gestured for Misfire. "I need you to hold the head up to the scanner."

"Oh hell no! I am not touching that!"

"Why not?"

"It's infected."

"With what?"

Misfire muttered nervously, "Cybercrosis."

"Whole area was infected with it at the start of war. It was officially called a terrorist attack they pinned on the Triple M but everybody knows it was really an inside job backed by the Senate… eh, or so I heard," said Fulcrum with a little cough. "It's on of the super-virulent strains, too! It's so bad that the corpses are still capable of infecting you just with one touch! We try to avoid even coming here."

Hellrider ran a scan just to make sure Viewfinder hadn't lied to him, then smiled. "Well, they were wrong. These people died of an EMP burst, not a disease. If what I saw in their memories is right, this guy…" He held up the head. "Was chief of security for the bank and activated several high frequency pulsing bombs as a last ditch attempt to protect the people hiding in the bank from looters. He misjudged the timer, though, and got caught in the blast."

"…so, there's not a deadly disease in all these bodies?" asked Misfire.

"Nope. Never was."

"Then why did they tell us that's what happened?"

"Because seeking the profits gained by the exploitation of the workers would lead to corruption," Kaon droned as he casually walked up to them. "This is a place of dishonor and a memorial to the avarice of upper classes. It is best left forgotten and abandoned to rust."

"The only reason none of you want to touch this place is because none of you could get the loot since everybody with the codes was either dead or fled already," replied Hellrider as he handed the head and arm to Kaon. "Now, why don't you make yourself useful and help a brother out?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you understand. This is…"

"My attempt to redistribute the wealth," Hellrider said. "I mean, look at it like this: we have before us the ill-gotten gains of the venal, self-proclaimed elites. Just sitting there, ready to be used to further the cause. Surely you can't say this isn't a sign from God that we should liberate it?"

"To begin with, religion is the opiate of the masses," replied Kaon.

Chip gave him a shocked look. "You're a communist?"

"Well, how about I give the DJD a little donation?" said Hellrider. "You know, a cut of the loot to go towards furthering your work for the cause?"

"That's a bribe. You're offering me a bribe."

"Bribe?! Oh no-no! I'm just offering a contribution, that's all."

Kaon glared at him, then zoned out for a second. With a little sigh, he said, "Very well. I just ran it by Tarn and he has deemed it acceptable to take whatever valuables have been left. Provided, of course, you grant us eighty percent of everything you find. As a 'donation'."

"Fine," said Hellrider. "As long as I got drinking money, we're golden."

"Isn't that a bit steep?" asked Chip as they went over to the door. "Can't you ask Tarn if he'd settle for something like a sixty-forty split? I mean, that gives you guys sixty percent while leaving enough for a ten percent share for the rest of us."

"…ten percent?" asked Hellrider as he typed in the pass-code while Kaon held the body parts up the respective scanners. "Wouldn't that be twenty for you and me?"

"You forgot about Misfire and Fulcrum," Chip answered, pointing at the other two, who were busily stripping parts from a corpse. "We ought to give them a share of the money. So, how about it Kaon? You mind asking your boss if that would work for him?"

"Dude!" gasped Misfire as he looked up from what he was doing. "Are you seriously trying to bargain with the DJD?!"

"Why not? I mean, Tarn might be a bit… uh, abrasive sometimes, but they seem pretty reasonable once you get to know them. Vos has been especially nice to me lately…"

Both Misfire and Fulcrum stopped what they were doing to stare at Chip.

"…reasonable? Nice?!" muttered Fulcrum. "You're seriously calling the Decepticon Justice Division reasonable and nice?"

"Yes. Geez… You guys all act like they're monsters!" huffed Chip.

Misfire started to saying something only for Fulcrum to slam a hand over his mouth. He smiled nervously at Kaon. "Oh, that's… erm, not exactly true. We just… uh, just have a healthy respect for them as paragons of Decepticon virtue and righteous dispensers of Lord Megatron's justice!"

"In short, yes. Monsters would be a very apt description of us," said Kaon as he stared at Chip with those empty eye sockets. "By the way, what do you mean by calling me a 'communist'?"

"It's a political group on Earth," Chip replied, ears twitching as he did his best to look tough despite being in bunny form. "It's kind of complicated, but I'll sum it up like this: they started out as a group of people trying to make life better for the working class but ended up becoming a dictatorship. They also outlawed things like private property and religion while taking away all the freedoms of the people they claim to be 'helping'."

"And you are comparing the Decepticons to this faction?"

Before Chip could respond, the door snapped open and Hellrider quickly dragged him inside. He hauled the little guy through the backrooms and hallways until they came out into the area where the teller used to sit. Staring out into the lobby, Chip could only manage a quiet "Oh my god…"

Bodies laid strewn around the place, the various scorch marks and stains showing that most of the people who'd taken refuge in the bank had either been murdered or died by their own hands.

"…great," grumbled Misfire as the other three came up to them. "Looks like another mass murder-suicide."

"You've seen this before?" asked Chip, oblivious to Hellrider going over to a teller's terminal and doing something that involved taking several cards from a drawer and swiping them after entering a few lines of code.

"Loads of times. You get a lot of these in the Towers. They'd lock themselves in panic rooms, thinking the war would be over quickly. But it didn't, so their supplies would run out and then they'd…" Fulcrum mimed firing at a random body then at his own head. "Happened all over the place."

"Good places to find parts, too," Misfire chirped happily as he went over to a corpse and began stripping it. "They usually just blew each other's brains out in the end, so things like fuel pumps and whatever else was in their torsos are still usable."

Chip just stared at him. "You… you can't be serious…"

"Uh, yeah. I am. Hey, Fulcrum! Call Krok! We've hit the mother-lode here."

As the pair of scavengers went to work reclaiming parts, Chip turned to Hellrider and Kaon. "Aren't either of you going to do something?"

"About what?" asked Hellrider in a cold tone as he gently lifted Chip onto his shoulder and walked out into the lobby. "They're dead, man. Nothing left to be done for them."

"They're stealing organs!" gasped Chip. "This… this is just sick!"

"You sympathize with the oppressors of the people?" asked Kaon as they picked their way through the ancient carnage.

"Yes, because they were people too! We ought to be a bit more respectful to their remains."

"Chip, buddy, we need to the parts," Hellrider replied solemnly, taking care as he typed in the passcodes. "I know this is nasty, but what else can we do? Let all these parts just sit here corroding when it could be used to save lives?"

"It's still wrong," Chip said as the three of them walked into the now opened vaults. "I mean, it's one thing to do a bank robbery, but they're out there desecrating corpses!"

"This ain't robbery," corrected Hellrider, sitting Chip down before pulling out a random safety deposit box. "They abandoned this shit. It's… uh, salvage! Yeah, that's it. We're salvaging here."

Chip gave him long, doubtful look as Hellrider dumped the box out onto a table and began sorting through it.

"He does have a point," Kaon said in a shockingly gentle tone. "It's perfectly reasonable for us to take back the riches the patricians stole."

"You really are a dyed-in-the-wool Bolshevik…" Chip grumbled in English.

"[Is a Bolshevik the same as a communist, little one?]" asked Kaon in oddly accented English.

"Let me guess, you got a language pack for English too?" said Hellrider while he dumped out more boxes.

"Yes. Our research shows it's the primary language on Dirt."

"I think the billions of Chinese might disagree…" he grumbled. "So, when are we all going to Earth?"

"Soon enough. My team has business to deal with on Cybertron first."

"And that would be…?"

"None of your concern, medic."

"Of course not," said Hellrider, smiling and going back to storing through the plunder while he looked into Kaon's mind. It didn't take long for him to find that the DJD were here to look for a black marketeer named Demus who was apparently collaborating with an unknown group smuggling drugs and other contraband. It was suspected by the Cobalt team that he was actually working with the Autobots to undermine the Decepticon forces by getting large numbers of the rank and file hooked, rendering them useless in combat from their addictions. So they had requested the DJD's assistance in 'questioning' Demus about his motives. Coincidentally, Demus also happened to be the guy supplying the DJD with extra Nuke and parts because Shockwave had convinced Megatron to put a hard limit to all that when he founded the Division. The guy that had started demanding that they (gasp!) pay even more for the privilege or he'd cut them off and snitch to Shockwave. Which wasn't a very smart move in Hellrider's opinion as he'd come to realize from his various peeks into the minds of the DJD's members over the past few days showed that not a single one of them had any qualms about brutally murdering an idiot who thought they could get away with blackmailing them.

Taking a small fortune in pre-war coins, Hellrider looked up Kaon. "This should be enough for me and Chip to get a few drinks. How about you call—"

"We're already here," Tarn said as he came in along with Vos, Tessarus, Onslaught and a positively drooling Swindle. "We thank you for your service to the cause and see that you've taken your share already. We trust that you shall also hand over the debit cards you loaded."

"I thought we agreed on eighty-twenty?"

"You literally put over one hundred billion credits into various anonymous off-planet accounts mere moments ago."

"Which was about twenty percent of the funds left 'unclaimed'," said Hellrider calmly as he handed Tarn a stack of cards. "These have the other eighty percent loaded into their accounts, ready to be redistributed as Lord Megatron see fit. All you have to do is set up a PIN for them."

"He is correct," squeaked Ratbat in a giddy voice as he landed on the loot covered table. "My preliminary calculations show that his math is correct. Besides, Hellrider deserves a little reward for his services! Because at last, I can have something I have craved since long before the War: the unfettered ability to audit this bank! I've already started as ordered by Shockwave and Hellrider has indeed only taken a share of twenty percent of the total tangible funds available. And I have also taken out the taxes on said funds."

"…which is still leaves Chip and me a bit of drinking money." Hellrider turned a huge grin to Tarn. "Now, is there anything else?"

"No. You are dismissed," said Ratbat.

Ignoring the evil glare Tarn gave him, Hellrider once more scooped Chip up and hurried out the bank that was now swarming with Decepticon looters. They barely reached the end of the block before Kaon caught up to them.

"And just where are we going?" he asked.

"Chip and me are just going meet Slick for a drink."

"And where are we drinking?"

"Why do you care where Chip and I are going?"

"I think you misunderstood me," Kaon said with a pleasant smile. "I am asking where we are going for a drink. As in all three of us."

"…seriously? Did Tarn order you to follow us or something?"

"Why do you think that?"

Hellrider inhaled sharply, looking again into Kaon's head and finding that the answer was a no. Tarn hadn't given that order. Soundwave had the very moment Nickel had announced he could 'kiss her exhaust port' and sent a rather concerning comment on Hellrider's 'condition' that sent the old bastard into a quiet rage. Which did suddenly explain why Kaon had been creeping around the med-bay for the last few days as well as the reason Nickel had been treating him with the proverbial kid gloves.

"We're going to The Slag-maker, aren't we?" said Kaon, his voice staying monotone but the smile becoming even sweeter. "That's were most addicts go to get their fix from what I've heard."

"Weird. I thought you weren't the type to do drugs," Chip said, matching Kaon's pleasantness. "Other than Nuke. But those are like steroids, right?"

Hellrider bit back his initial urge to explain in excruciating detail the gory reasons why Nuke and nucleon in general had been outlawed throughout almost the entire known universe. He instead gave a non-committal shrug. "No, Chip, it ain't. And I don't know what you're talking about, man. I just want a have a drink."

"Of course. Shall we go then?"

Hellrider snapped his mask and visor back in place. "Fine."

With Chip still perched on his shoulder and Kaon walking just a step behind him, Hellrider sauntered down the street.

Tracks had nearly reached the cemetery gates when he found his was blocked by a smiling Hot Rod.

"And where are you running off to, old man? Didn't the boss lady say there's no 'non-essential' travel?"

"This is very essential," Tracks replied as tried to step around the grinning boy but stopped when Hot Rod grabbed his arm gently.

"I know. Deadlock said you were going to meet a friend of his at Maccadam's and I'm inviting myself along to make sure you're okay."

"I really don't think…"

"Tracks, you're in pretty bad shape," he said, the smile vanishing. "From what I happened to hear, Arcee was not exactly optimistic about what Swoop showed her."

"It's rude to eavesdrop, Hot Rod."

"Hey! I was worried about, okay? And it's bad enough that they were talking about sending you to Delphi."

"Why?"

"Apparently, whatever is wrong with your laser core is so bad that you're going to need surgical intervention very soon. The kind that Ratchet says only Pharma could pull off."

"So she called Ratchet, didn't she?"

"…yeah. And they also did a conference call with Pharma. Even he wasn't sure you'd survive the operation given your current condition…"

Tracks let out a vent-rattling sigh. "I don't know why she bothered. I am perfectly fine. Now, if you don't mind…"

"I'm still going with you."

"Boy…"

"Quit arguing, old man. I promised Deadlock I'd come along with you," Hot Rod said, the smile returning brightly. "Besides, that friend of his might the spooky guy and I'd like a chance to get to know him better."

Tracks gave him a long, cold look, then sighed again. "Very well. Just behave yourself, all right?"

"Sure thing, old man!"

They left the catacombs, transforming and taking care to stay off the main roads as they headed for the bar.

"Is that it?" asked Hellrider, staring at the tiny shot glass of glowing a weird purple with faint wisps of iridescent smoke.

"That, my friend, is vintage Nightmare Fuel," Trickdiamond said with a little smile.

"But why so… small?"

Chip just stared at him over the rim of the K-Juice can he'd been nursing since the first round. "Dude, the bartender had to put on gloves and was using tongs to pick up the bottle. I really don't think you should put that in you."

Hellrider picked up the glass, looking over to Slick. "If I die, I want you to grab Chip and run…"

"Sure thing."

Over Chip's protests, Hellrider slammed back the shot without so much as a wince. He sat there a moment, keenly aware that the others were watching him as if expecting something horrible to happen. "…uh, what's the expiration date on that shit?"

Trickdiamond stared at him in shock. "It… doesn't have one. Why?"

"Because I ain't feeling shit." He waved the bartender back over. "Hey, man, how much for that whole bottle?"

"Of Nightmare Fuel?" asked the bartender, the disbelief clear in his voice. "You want to buy a whole bottle of Nightmare Fuel?"

"Yeah. Now, how much?"

"Look, buddy, if you want to off yourself, that's your own business, but I ain't…" The stack of shanix slammed down in front of him cut the bartender short. He looked at the money, looked at Hellrider, then back at the money. Without a word, the bartender sweep the money up, took the tongs, got the bottle, and sat it down before him with the greatest care.

"You are to drink that?" asked a weird yellow mech sitting at the bar with them.

"Yes."

"For real?" asked one of a trio that had been hanging around nearby. "You're seriously gonna drink that whole bottle?"

"Yes."

Now a small crowd had closed in to watch and place bets.

To the encouraging cheers of "CHUG IT!" and Chip's horror, Hellrider casually swirled it then downed the whole bottle in one long gulp. There was a little bubble of quiet as the crowd waited to see if he was going to make it, but Hellrider just sat there completely unfazed.

"Haha… Really funny," he grumbled, turning back to the dumbfounded bartender. "Did you water this down or something? Cause I ain't feeling a goddamn thing!"

The bartender stared at him with dull surprise for a long moment. "That… that was a bottle of Old Skullgrim's. I've seen Phase Sixers pass out after taking just a shot of that…"

"For real?! This was like drinking nothing, man."

Putting the money back on the bartop, the bartender just shook his head. "Here. You… you earned it."

"Keep it."

"That's enough to buy the whole bar a round, man."

"Really?" Smiling, Hellrider climbed up on his stool and called out, "What's up, motherfuckers! Next rounds on me!"

There was a resounding cheer even from those who'd just lost a bundle.

"Well, that's one way to make friends," Trickdiamond said as he sat back down. "So, what's the trick?"

"What?"

"That had to be a trick. So how did you do it? You got a gullet cut-out or something?"

"Nope."

"Then how did you pull that off?"

Slick suddenly interjected, "None of us can get fucked up."

"What?"

"Yeah, what the hell?" asked Hellrider. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. We cannot get high. We cannot get drunk. Sure, you'll have a little buzz, but it'll never quite satisfy. The only thing that comes close is…"

"Is what?"

Slick stared down at the glass of high-grade in his hand. "You really don't want to know."

Hellrider started to press him for a real answer, but was interrupted by Kaon suddenly glancing from the booth in the back he'd been watching for the last hour to the door.

"…I knew it," he hissed, looking back to the booth and pound back his eighth glass of Old Corroder.

"Knew what?" asked Chip.

"…oh no." Hellrider had seen who just walked in and finally noticed who was sitting at that booth all by himself. He immediately snapped his facemask and visor back down, readying for the incoming brawl.

Now Kaon had lurched away from the bar, pushing through the crowd as he headed towards the booth. But, before Hellrider could catch him, Chip had already bounced after him and cut Kaon off half-way.

"Please, don't," Chip said.

Hellrider lunged forward but didn't have a chance to get to Chip when Kaon leaned down and wordless picked the little guy up. Cuddling him like a beloved pet, Kaon staggered back to the bar and flagged the bartender down. "I need another. Now."

"No," grumbled Chip. "I'm cutting you off."

"Uh, Chip? I don't think that's a good idea…" Hellrider said, coming back over and reaching out to get him away from Kaon.

But the now blankly staring mech just held him a bit tighter. "…then I'll have what you were having."

"Me too," Hellrider said, keeping a wary eye on Kaon while Chip did his best to give him a comforting pep talk. He'd barely gotten the can when Trickdiamond nudged him and pointed to a door at the back of the bar. There was a light above it that was once red but now flashed to green.

"[My connection's here. I'll go first and let him know your buying. Then you come along and rap this on the door, okay?]" she said over a private line as tapped on her glass.

Hellrider nodded, downed the K-Juice, and turned to Slick. "Keep an eye on Chip for me."

"Sure thing."

Waiting until she'd been in there a few minutes, he got up and went to the door. He knocked the way Trickdiamond had told him to, then stepped into the room as soon as the door opened.

"So, this is the new guy?" asked a grubby little mech sitting behind a shabby desk.

"Yeah. Headstrong, this is…"

"Forget about the names. You got money?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you looking to buy?"

"Dunno. What's the strongest shit you got?"

"Look, I already told Tarn I ain't got no more Nuke!" huffed Headstrong. "And I don't have any Nucleon Nails, either. Hell, I ain't even got normal nucleon left 'cause Grimlock done wiped me out!"

"Grimlock?" Hellrider was suddenly glad none of them could see the confusion on his face. "Ain't he an Autobot?"

"Hey, if he can pay, then I frankly couldn't give a damn."

"Fair enough. So, what else you got?"

"Trick said you were into speeders."

"Yeah. I'll take the strongest and fastest acting ones you got."

"I've got C10s. That good enough?"

"Great! I'll take as much as you got."

Headstrong raised a brow. "Why? You dealing or something? Because I'll sell it to you wholesale, but you better give me a cut of your profits."

"Nope! Just running a personal experiment." He glanced towards the back to see another door opened to a room where a couple of mechs were processing suspicious powders from foil-wrapped bundles into bags, decanting various glowing liquids into vape cartridges, filling inhaler capsules, divvying up microchips, and measuring out a whole rainbow of pills into discrete packets. "Hey, what's all that stuff you got there?"

"The silvery powder is Plutonium Nyborg, the black gummy lumps are raw taduki, the yellowish tabs are Ba-Na-Na Ph154, those crystal leaves are Kaon Ditch Diesel (I think…), all kinds of circuit boosters and speeders… uh, that's really all the ones I can remember off the top of my head."

"You don't even know which is which?"

"I only learned the bestsellers, kid. Don't do them myself. Never get high off your own supply. I stick to energon wine and Death Stick Zap-paks," Headstrong grumbled, taking a drag of his cygar. "So, what do you want?"

"On top of those C10s, I'd like a kilo unit of Diesel, the same amount of taddie… Hey, are those little blue vials what I think it is?

"If 'zydrate' is what you're looking for, than yes. We finally got a supply from Delphi."

"Yeah," purred Hellrider, smiling as he took a vial and gazed at it lovingly. "You take an injector gun, and the little glass vial goes into the gun like a battery and then the gun goes somewhere against the anatomy. And when the gun goes off, it sparks and you're ready for… surgery…"

"Stuff's pure, too, which is rare, but it'll definitely take you there. Rocko here did a tiny hit the a week ago and he still can feel shit in the arm he shoot up in."

"Cool. I'll take your whole supply, too, and enough Plutonium Nyborg to kill a Phase Sixer."

The old mech laughed suddenly. "Oh boy! I hate to break it to you, kid, but Tarn's built up one hell of a tolerance to that shit even before he became… well, Tarn."

"Who says it's for him? I told you, I'm doing an experiment."

"On what? How to die flying higher than the entire Air Division without ever leaving the ground?"

Hellrider shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows?"

"All right. But I need that cash up front."

Doing a bit of calculating based on what he'd managed to wheedle out of Viewfinder about the current street values, Hellrider handed over roughly twice the amount needed to get it all. "That good enough, old man?"

Headstrong snatched the shanix up, counted them with a speed like a cheetah on speed, nodded with a little smile as he put them in a lock box and turned to the backroom. "Well, you heard the mech. Hand him the goods."

In mere moments, Hellrider had everything he ordered, plus an extra bit of something the old man called One-hitter Centurion Chronic. "Aw, thanks."

"No problem," grumbled Headstrong as entered in the amount into a discrete log book. "Shame I won't have you as a repeat customer, though."

"Right…" Taking the hint, Hellrider quietly stepped out when Trickdiamond opened the door, slipping her a small bundle of shanix as he went past. Dry swallowing a speeder, he started back towards the bar but got cut off by Deadlock.

"Why, hello there!" Deadlock said with a grin.

"Oh, uh… hi." Hellrider started to go around him, but stopped when the other mech grabbed his arm.

"I thought you were going to have a drink with me?"

"Oh! Yeah… Well, let's just go the bar and…"

"Not here."

"Huh?"

"I said not here," repeated Deadlock, gently pulling him away from the bar and towards the door.

"Look, man, I can't go. I really need to get back to Chip and…"

"Oh, he's just fine," said Deadlock.

Hellrider glanced over towards where he'd left the little guy and saw Chip was still being cuddled by Kaon and doing his best to bring the eyeless bastard out of his despair. Slick, meanwhile, appeared to have finally passed out from the obscene amounts of high-grade he'd been consuming for the past few days.

"I can't just leave him alone here," Hellrider growled.

"He'll be fine," Deadlock said again. "Slick's with him and…"

"And he's passed out drunk."

"No. He's not."

Again, they looked to the bar and saw that Slick might have been slumped onto the bartop but he was occasionally butting into to whatever conversation Chip and Kaon were having.

Hellrider turned to Deadlock. "…I don't like leave him like this."

"It would be easier if just the two of us went."

"Why?"

"Let me show you something," grumbled Deadlock, pulling a thin plastic receipt and a pen out. He took his time circling six letters in a very specific order while Hellrider watched before shredding it. "You understand now?"

"…yeah."

"Then let's go."

"All right."

Taking one last look back at Chip, Hellrider followed him out to the street. When Deadlock transformed, he did the same and kept right behind him as the old man sped off.

"What's taking him so long?" muttered Tracks over the barely touched mug of now very cold oil.

"Did he give you a specific time?" Hot Rod asked, sipping on a fresh can of K-Juice.

"No."

"Then why are you worried? He might just be waiting for that friend he's bringing along to get done working. Deadlock said the guy was a medic."

"Interesting… And what else did the old bastard tell you?"

"…it's so weird hearing you curse," Hot Rod grumbled. "And that's pretty much all he said. The guy's a medic and needs to talk to you."

Tracks just nodded, taking out a vape. It was almost to his lips when flat gray talons snatched it out of his hand.

"You shouldn't be using these in your condition, fancy fenders," came the distorted grumble from what looked like a zombie Lambo model who's face was hidden behind a visor and faceplate. "In fact, you shouldn't be out drinking at all, big guy."

"Excuse you?"

Cursing as he trotted up the table, Deadlock sighed. "Sorry. Tracks, this is Hellrider. Hellrider, Tracks."

"Oh good," Tracks said with a cold smile. "I'll just get straight to the point, boy: Give him back."

"Uh, rude," huffed Hot Rod. "At least let them set down and have a drink before making crazy demands. Seriously, you're usually just as bad as Magnus is about bitching that nobody has manners these days and…"

"Etiquette is for civilized people." Tracks did his best to hide his anger underneath the haughty discourtesy towards lowlifes he often used working in the Towers, but it still slipped through as he repeated, "Now, give him back."

Hellrider started to say something, froze up, tried again, then let out a low huff from him vents. "I can't…"

Getting to his feet, Tracks grabbed him by the shoulders and snapped, "Give Raoul back to me, you fucking son of a bitch!"

"…you need to calm down," Hellrider said with that tone of poised annoyance many medics had for unruly patients. "I can hear your oil pressure rising, big guy."

"Do not call me that, boy," hissed Tracks, grip tightening.

"What the hell, man? Don't you recognize—" Hellrider froze up again, looked down at his chest plate and sighed. "Oh yeah… I guess you don't, huh?"

"I frankly don't give a damn who you are," Tracks said. "I just want my boy back."

"That's going to be a bit difficult…" said Hellrider. He started to say more, but again froze up. After a few more rounds of stammering and freezing up, he finally growled, "Look, I kind of can't explain right now."

"Why not?"

"They've put an info-lock in him," Deadlock interjected. "Shockwave is fond of putting them on his security personnel to keep them from talking."

"Oh, this just keeps getting better…" Tracks replied, glaring at the older mech.

"He can't say it but I can."

"Say what?"

"What would you say if I told you Hellrider and Rah-ool are the same person."

"I'd call you damn dirty liar."

"I'm telling you the truth."

Tracks took a deep breath, vents rattling. "Listen here, old man. Just because they're currently binary partners does not mean…"

"They aren't binary-bound. They are the same person," said Deadlock, plopping down into the chair by Hot Rod. "Your Rah-ool has somehow been transformed into a sparkeater and they gave him a fake backstory to make it easier for the other 'cons to accept him."

"Is that so?" grumbled Tracks, sitting back down as a wave of lightheadedness took hold. "That might have been believable until you brough up that sparkeater nonsense, old man. And it's awfully convenient he can't confirm anything himself."

"Give me a second," Hellrider replied as he took the seat next to Tracks and calmly jabbed a finger-needle into his own neck.

"Holy shit!" barked Hot Rod as the other three just stared in horror.

Tracks was about to yank Hellrider's hand out when he got a ping on a private line. Confused, he accepted the call.

"[Hey, big guy… Long time, no see, huh?]" said Raoul in a nervous whisper over the static filled line.

Tracks sat there in shock for a moment, at a loss as to how to reply. Then in a detached tone, he said, "[I don't know what they've done to you, but I will get you out. I'm going to bring you and this bastard back to the base and see if Perceptor or Brainstorm can…]"

"[I can't]" Raoul replied. "[Not without Chip, Slick, and Vester.]"

"[Raoul, please…]"

"I won't let them be left behind," Hellrider said in a sharp tone.

"I wasn't talking to you," Tracks growled, then in a gentler tone to Raoul, "[We'll do everything we can to help them, too. But since your already here, I think it's best…]"

"[Look, big guy, I get what you're trying to do, but… You can't save me. …not now.]" Raoul let out a miserable laugh that was simultaneously echoed by Hellrider.

Withdrawing the needle, Hellrider said in a dead tone, "I'm sorry, but it's a bit too late…"

"Don't worry," came the soft voice of Springer. "We'll take care of that soon enough."

Tracks turned to see the young mech had managed to creep up behind him with Grimlock and Snarl in tow.

Hot Rod let out a loud groan. "For god's sake, will you lay off the guy?"

"First off, that's not a person," Springer replied with a blank expression. "Second, what in the Pit are you doing here?"

"Having a drink?"

"Maybe you might have forgotten, but there's a standing order for nobody to be doing any unnecessary traveling right now."

"This was completely necessary," Tracks said haughtily. "I'm going to bring this…" he gestured to Hellrider. "Back to the base, disentangle him from Raoul and send the poor boy back home."

Springer gave him a little frown. "Look, old man, that's not going to work. What I can do for him is give him two shots to the back of the head…"

"No, Springer can't," Grimlock huffed after leaning in close to Hellrider and giving him a long sniff.

"Why not?"

"Him pregnant."

"What?!" barked Tracks and Springer in unison.

"Dude's pregnant," Snarl replied as he took a sniff himself. "Or at least, he smells pregnant. *snuff-snuff* Like, maybe a bud or something…"

There was a moment's silence, then Deadlock asked "How?"

"…I'm not pregnant," Hellrider grumbled. "I'm just holding onto to some random guy's spark for a bit until I can get him a new body."

"Or you just ate somebody," said Springer.

"You want proof? Here!" Hellrider took the broken end of a harpoon from his subspace and dropped it in front of Springer.

The whole bar went dead quiet as soon as it hit the table top.

Hellrider broke the silence, his tone sounding ashamed despite the distortions. "Oh… Shit. Sorry. Didn't realize you were his ex-w—"

"You are very lucky this is neutral ground…" Springer spoke each word with deliberate coldness as he picked up the harpoon. "Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?" huffed Hellrider, going aggressive again. "If you want a fight, just say so…"'

A loud cough from the behind the bar caught their attention. Maccadam frowned beneath his impressive facial decoration, pointing up at the sign on the wall clearly stating at the top in large, bold letters that this was 'Accorded Neutral Territory'.

"Accorded? What the hell does that mean?" Hellrider asked.

"It means that as long as we're in here, I can't ram this," Springer put the harpoon just under Hellrider's chin, "Straight through your face."

"Then why don't we take this outside, [cabrón]?"

Tracks got to his feet before Springer could reply, dragging Hellrider up with him. "Nobody's fighting tonight, children. Rod? Will you please keep an eye on Springer? I need to have a word in private with this boy."

Springer growled softly. "You know, I outrank you…"

"And Springer gonna sit his aft down," Grimlock grumbled, flagging down a waitress and when he noticed the glare he was getting, the massive mech shrugged. "Me know Springer not gonna win this fight. Besides, they pregnant. Me not cool with letting you beat up an expecting mother. Even if they Decepticon bug and baby gonna be second coming of Impactor. What you want drink? Me buying."

"No. We're on duty, Grim."

"So?" came the cheerful reply as he ordered a round for the whole table.

Satisfied that Springer would be preoccupied dealing with Grimlock for a while, Tracks pulled the eerily quiet young mech to a booth in the back. They'd hardly sat down when the waitress sat down a glass of energon wine and a mug filled with a dubious, smoking liquid.

"You're friend sent them over," she said, gesturing towards Grimlock.

"Nice of him, but he ain't really supposed to have anything stronger than plain energon," Hellrider replied in the most pleasant way he could manage.

"Doc over there says one's okay," the waitress said, this time pointing to Swoop before moving away.

Tracks felt mild horror to see that he drinking with Sludge and a grinning Slag.

"They're just waiting till you leave," Hellrider said, opening his mask to wash a suspicious capsule down with his first gulp.

"I'm sorry?"

"The Dinobots are just waiting till Springer drags you, Hot Rod, and Deadlock back to your base," he said. "Then they're gonna go out and jump Tran's ass while they're hauling back the loot from the High Financial Offices and Bank of Iacon. Oh, that reminds me… I've got a gift for you."

"What is that?" asked Tracks when he slid a couple of debit cards towards him.

"The back-pay the bitch owed you… plus a little extra."

"You do know this is theft, don't you?"

"She's dead and owed the taxman billions… Which explains why Ratbat was positively orgasmic over getting to audit the place."

"They kept your smile."

The mask shut as Hellrider stiffened up. "I don't know what you're…"

"I know your face, Raoul."

"Oh, now you're gonna believe Deadlock?!"

"It's not just the face," Tracks grumbled. "It's also the fact that I have never met a more suicidal overconfident idiot than you in my life! For god's sake, Raoul, what do you think you're doing, antagonizing Wreckers and…"

"Whoa! Calm down, big guy!" Hellrider took out a vape pen, slotted a cartridge and held it out to Tracks. "Here. Take a hit off this."

Tracks' vents rattled loudly as he sighed. "Raoul…"

"Look, it's the only relatively safe sedative I got on me," he grumbled back. "The zydrate might be too much, though I know it's legit. Hell, this might not even be Chronic, so maybe you're right not to take it. I just hope I only got a bad batch of speeders, because these C10s ain't doing shit…"

Tracks gave him a long, hard look with a frown.

"What? I know what the stuff looks and acts like," Hellrider said, showing him a glowing vial. "It's the shit I used to keep the peace in the medbay between Motormaster and his idiot brothers. Though we cut it with enough synthetic energon that it's less than one percent zydrate by volume."

"Is that how they're keep you in line? By encouraging your self-destructive antics with a ready supply of dope?"

"You think the Autobots are better about that?" came the vicious laugh. "A lot of you guys are using too, you know. Take Grimlock, for example."

"We aren't talking about him, Raoul. We are discussing you. And will you take that off your face?"

"Why?"

"Because this isn't you."

"You so sure about that?" he huffed, but opened his mask anyway.

"The visor, too."

"No."

"Why not?"

Hellrider squirmed, trying to cover his discomfort with a deep gulp of his drink. "…you don't want to know."

"Please?"

Now the boy stiffened up and bristled just the way Tracks recalled he always would when trying to bluff his way out of a serious conversation. "Seriously, it's best I keep the visor on. It's… not pretty."

Reaching over, Tracks gently pressed the little trigger at the side of the boy's helm to force the visor to withdraw. He was surprised that it only got him a grumpy little glare, but seeing that face again was worth it. "It's not so bad, Raoul."

"Well, this is a first!" he laughed. "Everybody else thinks my eyes are fucking creepy."

"Jazz's are the same," Tracks replied, letting his fingers linger a bit before he pulled away.

"But I'm not blind," Hellrider grumbled.

"Didn't say you were." Tracks smiled slightly as he gazed at the boy. "I must admit they did good work. You look just as good as you were a human…"

Another, nastier laugh. "I'd say I look better now."

"I much prefer you the way you were." Tracks pulled out a tablet and click on a the slideshow of pictures he had of Raoul. "This is you, Raoul."

"…please stop."

"Stop what?"

"That's… that's not my name…"

After a moment's pause, Tracks asked, "What have they done to you?"

"There's nothing they could do that I haven't already done to myself."

"Raoul…"

"It's Hellrider now, big guy."

Tracks shook his head with a little sigh. "No. It's not, Raoul. This is not you. I don't know what Soundwave has done to you, but we'll work on fixing you when we get back to base."

"I can't," he said in a flat tone. "I told you, I won't leave Chip or the others behind."

"And we'll do whatever we can to rescue them," replied Tracks. "But first, I'm going to get you somewhere safe."

"I'd say something about 'treachery' and 'betrayal', but getting Hellrider into rehab might actually be a good idea," droned a thin, dull red mech with a rather embarrassed bunny cradled in hand and a disturbing lack of eyes in his burnt out sockets. "By the way, can I have a C10? I need to sober up, fast."

Hellrider snapped his mask back and visor back in place, then turned to the newcomer. "Why?"

"We're going to end up in fight the second we step out the door."

"I'm sure he's just exaggerating," the bunny said sharply.

Tracks blinked and stared at him. "Chip? Is that you?"

"Yes, and hi!" Twisting around, Chip gave Kaon a hopeful look. "Tracks is a friend of ours, so I'm sure he can explain things to his friends…"

They all turned to look towards the bar where all five of the Dinobots where now standing and giving them the biggest smiles. Even Grimlock was grinning in eagerness behind his mask.

"Tell you what," began Hellrider. "You hand Chip over to Tracks, I give you that speeder, then you and me can go have a nice little chat with the Dinobots."

"No," replied Kaon, cuddling Chip tighter.

"Why not?"

"Because you were just plotting to desert the cause with this Autobot."

"Well, do you blame us?" grumbled Chip. "I mean, you've seen what it's been like with Motormaster!"

"Yes, but…"

"But there's nothing stopping you from coming with us," Chip continued with a blissful lack of awareness that sprang from youthful optimism. "I mean, you don't have to join up with the Autobots if you don't want to. You could just stay neutral, Kaon."

The bar went deathly silent again.

"Chip, sweetie?" Tracks said, trying his best to hide both the growing panic and the sudden pain that had hit him. "Are you seriously trying to reason with a member of the Decepticon Justice Division?"

"Geez, I don't get why everybody acts like they're maniacs. I mean, they are actually pretty nice once you get to know them better… Right Kaon?"

"I fear you think too highly of me, little one."

"That is the understatement of the millennia," Tracks said dryly.

"You need to quit selling yourself short," grumbled Chip. "You are a much better person than you think. And you've been a good friend to Needy, even if you are right about him having terrible taste in men. With a boyfriend like that, he's going to need all the support he can get…"

In a cold rage, Tracks said, "So, somehow Horri-Bull has survived?"

Before either Hellrider or Kaon could stop him, Chip cheerfully replied, "Actually, we rebuilt him and his brothers… well, I think they're brothers. But Raoul had to go get their sparks because they were dead and…"

Kaon covered Chip's mouth gently. "Please, hush."

"I think he needs to say more," came buzzy monotone from a blue mech who had clearly been the victim of an extreme empurata. "Like, which bar that fucker's at."

"Why?" asked Kaon, caught off-guard by the mech's sudden appearance.

"None of your business, buggy boy."

"Gentlemechs… and Whirl, let's just calm down," said Deadlock as he slipped in between them. "The wavelengths are already very indigo and the vibes have gone rather bad…"

"I am perfectly calm," Kaon replied, taking care to pass Chip to Deadlock. "I just want to know what cyclopes' wants with Horri-Bull."

"He owes Whirl… twelve shanix? For real?!" gasped Hellrider, handing Kaon the capsule he'd been fiddling with. "You gonna kill a guy over twelve shanix?"

"It's not about the money," droned Whirl. "It's the principle of the thing."

"Look man, when we saw him last, he was at the Slag-maker working on finally sealing the deal with Needy. I'd say he's already suffering a fate worse than death," Hellrider replied with a nasty chuckle.

"Oh. Thanks!" chirped Whirl, who turned and sprinted out the door.

Kaon stared at him in shock. "Dude. Not cool…"

With a heavy sigh, Tracks stood and dragged Hellrider up after him. "You and I are going to have a long talk when we get back to base. Now, if you don't mind, it's time for us to go. Right, Deadlock?"

"Right. We ought be going…" Deadlock said, taking a step away from Kaon.

"You cannot be serious," Kaon growled, dry swallowing the capsule without a second thought. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

"No. But frankly, I don't give a damn," Tracks replied with his most arrogant tone. "Now, good day sir."

Kaon moved towards him, stopped suddenly, and fell back into the booth in a swoon.

"Oh god! Is he okay?" asked Chip.

"Yeah. I just gave him a little dose of zydrate. Just enough to make him take a little nap. He'll be fine in about… oh, sometime tomorrow morning."

"Well, we best be off then!" Tracks said, hauling the boy along him with Deadlock and Chip following close behind as he made for the back of the bar while everyone was still processing what happened. He gave Maccadam a little nod when they passed by him into the storeroom. They were nearly to the backdoor when Springer and Hot Rod finally caught up to them.

"You need to stop right now," Springer said in a quiet tone.

Tracks winced at a sharp pang in his chest, glaring at them. "Listen here, boy, I've had just about enough of your antics for one night."

"Uh, no, he's right," said Hot Rod with a nervous smile. "We need to stay in the bar for a bit…"

"Why?"

"Because Tarn and his boys just walked in," Hellrider answered.

As if one cue, they heard Maccadam loudly barked, "Am I going to have to tap the sign again?!"

They didn't hear the answer, but they certainly heard the reply.

"Well, I don't give a flying turbo-rat's ass who you think you are, boy," snapped Maccadam. "There's only one law here: Mine. And I say this is neutral territory. So if you can pay, you can stay. Now, are you buying a drink?" He paused, clearly listening to the reply, then said in a very angry tone, "Well, if you ain't customers, then there's the door! I've told you idiots once that I'm not having this shit in my bar!"

"…fuck. Is Tarn really trying to pull shit in a church?" muttered Hellrider under his breath.

Tracks gave him a confused look. "I beg your pardon?"

"This isn't just a bar," Hellrider said with a fearful reverence. "This is a temple dedicated to the Alchemist Prime. And that guy's not just the barkeeper, he's also the god being worshiped here. That conceited shithead is picking a fight with fucking robot Dionysus in his own house and he's about to get his ass turned into a dolphin or some shit…"

"How do you know that?" asked Hot Rod, giving him a very concerned look.

"…you don't want to know," he replied, now sounding vaguely sick. "Uh, I think me and Chip better get out of here…"

Tracks started to ask why, then noticed energon oozing out from underneath Hellrider's mask.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling so good," Chip managed to gargle out as energon began to drip out of his mouth, nose, and eyes. He gagged then suddenly vomited out a copious amount onto Deadlock. "…ugh, sorry."

"It's fine."

Opening his mask to let the now free-flowing energon out, Hellrider jerked the door open. "…oh, fuck my life."

Vos said something in the Primal Vernacular that Tracks guessed was a greeting, blocking the door. When Hellrider replied in kind by saying something about 'Dominus Ambus' with a viciousness that Tracks had never heard from him before, Vos made as if to lunge for him but froze up and collapsed to the ground.

"Well, that was easier than I thought," muttered a gaunt Megatron clone. "God, am I glad to see you!" rasped Hellrider as he snatched Chip out of Deadlock's hands and immediately darted into the alley to hug the stranger.

Stepping out behind him, Tracks looked over the other mech. "And this is…?"

"Oh! This is Slick. Slick, Tracks."

The sounds of a brawl getting started cut through the night air.

"Hi. And bye." grabbing the boy's arm, Slick immediately took off at a dead sprint with Hellrider stumbling after him and trying not to drop poor little Chip.

Tracks chased them to the end of the alleyway, just managing to duck as a large body flew past him. It hardly even registered to him that there was a brutal fight going on as he concentrated on catching up to Hellrider, who was now wielding a heavy blaster in his free hand. The moment he transformed with Chip now clinging to his roof to get away, Tracks did the same and raced after them. The brawl was soon long behind them as they raced down the deserted streets of Iacon with Tracks doing his best to stay right behind the boy despite the surging pain that came with straining himself so hard.

He was so focused on keeping up that he failed to see the various warning signs lining the roadside. It was only they were just past the last sign that Tracks realized they were at the Dancing Bridge.

Or at least, what was left of it.

The disrepair and other fatal damage from the millenniums of war must have destroy the sensor as their speed would have triggered the bridge. Instead, Hellrider went flying over the edge while Chip managed to barely jump clear and catch the ledge. Transforming, Hellrider tried to do the same, but momentum had sent him out too far and he went tumbling into the chasm.

Diving over the edge and shifting in midair, Tracks cut on his jets once he caught the boy. But his engines started to misfire and the jets sputtered several times. There wasn't enough power going to them to go back up, but there was enough that he could slow their fall and make the inevitable crash survivable. He even swung them around so he'd be landing on his back and able to use his body to cushion Hellrider's fall.

There was a sickening crunch as they hit the ground and Tracks forced down a scream as various jagged edges from the rusted debris carpeting the canyon floor drove deep into his back.

"Holy fucking shit!" snapped Hellrider, getting to his feet and immediately inspecting the older mech. "What were you think?!"

"Your welcome," Tracks grumbled back, trying to stand up but Hellrider forced him to lay down.

"Don't move! Just lay there and let me see what's broken."

"I'm fine," he replied, dragging himself upright despite the pain.

"You need to…"

A faint pop in the distance and dull thump cut Hellrider off.

Tracks glanced up just in time to see a small shape with a big gun duck back out of sight. Then he looked down at the smoldering hole in his chest. And that was when his systems went haywire causing him fully blacked out.