This story is is loosely based on/takes inspiration from the "Shadowplay" and "Elegant Chaos" arcs of MTMTE, but with its own fair amount of twists.
PROLOGUE
--Cybertron, 1,500 Years Ago--
"Don't tell me: this is another mystery."
"A mech was found dead earlier this morning by his sparkmate," Nightbeat said as he sipped from his glass of engex. "Face on his desk, gunshot wound in his back. His name was Checkup. Ex-Primal Vanguard. Medic, I think."
Quark sighed as he read the report on his friends datapad, standing with the detective outside Maccadam's New Oil House. "They're dropping like cyber-fleas, aren't they? First Breakthrough, now this... not to mention the Phobos controversy and that break-in at Apophenia."
"Well, a lot of them are old," Nightbeat said. "And if you'd been though the things they've been through, you'd lose your mind too."
"And I'm sure the administration is going to come up with a cover story just to assure the populace," Quark said with a grimace. "I'm none too pleased with how Sentinel Prime's been running things lately."
"It's not Prime you should be mad at but the High Council," Nightbeat replied, taking the datapad back from Quark. "He's being played by them like a puppet, just like they played Nominus and Guardian back in the day."
"Even so, I liked things better when I didn't have to look over my shoulder every five minutes."
"Still bitter about the Functionist Act?"
"Of course I am! One's alt mode should not determine his or her life! The only reason I'm science class is because I turn into an electron microscope, but I really wanted to be in--"
"Mechaforensics. Yes, I know. You tell me that everyday." Nightbeat finished off his drink before saying, "Anyway, Flatfoot's putting me in charge of the investigation team. Tumbler's already looking into potential suspects and Prowl--"
Plik.
Both mechs froze as a droplet of energon fell into Nightbeat's empty glass. They then slowly looked up to see its source.
Hanging upside down from under the Interstate Bridge which shadowed them was the strung up course of a green-armored mech. To make the sight all the more chilling were the words painted onto the corpse's back.
They're watching us.
WHEN TIME RUNS OUT
Part I: A Part of Yesterday
CHAPTER ONE
--The Lost Light, present day--
"So... it was Earth all along?"
"Yes, Pipes," Bluestreak said somewhat exasperatedly as he removed a disc from the movie player. "That thing they found at the end was the Statue of Liberty, a famous landmark on Earth. Finding its ruins as the characters did means that the ape-ruled planet was actually a post-apocalyptic Earth."
"And that's supposed to be a twist ending?" Whirl asked. "Boy, what a rip-off."
Bluestreak rolled his eyes. "So, did anyone else enjoy the movie?"
"I thought it was pretty good," said Pipes. "I'm still shaking from that shark one though. And that one with the time-traveling automobile wasn't half-bad either."
"Eh, I myself like the musical ones better," Ammo said. "Like that one... what was it called again? Perry Moppings?"
"Mary Poppins," Bluestreak corrected.
"Yeah, that's right. Oh, and Jello Holly!"
"Hello, Dolly."
"Whatever."
"So, what shall it be next?" Bluestreak asked, browsing his collection of non-Cybertronian films. "There's Zulu, Wrath of Xal, The Sounds of Eurythma (the abridged version), The Muppets Take Manhattan...."
"Er, could we actually take a break?" Ratchet asked, rising to his feet. "I promised Rewind I'd meet him at Swerve's for something."
"No problem, Doc," Bluestreak said with a grin. "We'll pass the time by watching Manos: The Hands of Fate again."
"Oh, spark, please no," Whirl groaned. "That movie was so awful, I was about ready to shoot myself."
"Okay then, how about A Nightmare on Elm--"
The resulting screams made Ratchet run out of the room at a speed faster than he thought his servos were capable of.
* * *
"...And then I said, 'That's no moon, that's my sparkmate!'"
Swerve broke into a fit of laughter at his own joke, while the others sitting at the table with him stared in either utter confusion or complete boredom.
"So, wait," Tailgate said. "Since when did the brontobot learn to talk?"
"And where did the Nebulan even come from?" Skids asked.
"And since when did you have a sparkmate?" Chromedome asked.
Swerve sighed exasperatedly. "It was a joke, guys. Jokes are supposed to be funny."
"Well, you don't hear me laughing," Nightbeat muttered.
At that moment, the door to the bar opened and Ratchet stepped in, hands rubbing his audio receptors.
"Ratchet!" Rewind called, waving him over to where the others were sitting. "Glad you could make it! How was Movie Night?"
"All right, until Bluestreak put back in that blasted horror flick," Ratchet grunted. "I had no idea Whirl could scream that loud."
"I didn't know Whirl even did scream," Swerve said. "Man, I need a recording of that!"
Pulling up a chair and taking his seat at the table, Ratchet looked at the others Rewind had summoned: Chromedome, Nightbeat, Skids, Drift, Crosscut, Swerve, and Tailgate. As far as he knew, none of them shared anything in common beyond faction insignia.
"So what's this all about, Rewind?" Ratchet asked. "And why does the sign outside say 'Closed for repairs?' I thought Swerve had already cleaned up after Cyclonus' little breakdown."
"The sign's there so we don't have any interruptions," Rewind replied. "Because all six of you-- Swerve and Tailgate are just here to listen-- are here to help me tell a story."
"To whom?" Crosscut asked.
"To yourselves."
"And you've officially lost me."
"Hear me out. If one subscribes to the theory that everyone and everything is connected, that would mean that all of you-- yes, all of you-- have come within each others' orbits at least once before in life, before the war had even begun. And it's all thanks to one Autobot in particular."
Rewind tapped the camera attached to the side of his head, bringing up a projection screen showing various amounts of footage.
"Let me establish the setting here: fifteen hundred years ago. Cycle 8314, Pre-War. Sentinel Prime has just passed the Functionist Act, making functionism the primary belief system of Cybertron. Bots are being forced into jobs as determined by their alt mode and are none too happy about it. Protests are being rallied and riots are breaking out all across the Tri-Torus States.
"As a result, the High Council has initiated the Clampdown, placing the planet under martial law. The Elite Guard is still embroiled in the Phobos controversy, Shanix is faring poorly as a galactic currency, and in sports news, Blurr has won the Ibex Cup for the tenth cycle running."
At this, Swerve let out a little cheer.
"Anyway," Rewind went on, "as I said before, you were all brought within each others' orbits by not just the most decorated member of the Elite Guard, but also the biggest, baddest, and most evil Decepticon of all time. Take it away, Domey!"
--The past--
"So who are we looking at this time?"
"High Councilor Sherma," Prowl replied, checking the readouts of his examining tools. "By my calculations, he was murdered approximately three hours ago and hung here to dry."
Tumbler looked up at the deceased councilor's hanging corpse, reading the crudely painted words on his back. "'They're watching us.' And just why would someone write that on their victim's corpse?"
Prowl shot him a look. "If I had known, wouldn't I have already been able to deduce the culprit behind this?"
Tumbler held up his hands defensively. "Just pointing out a clue."
"It's certainly a useful clue," Nightbeat said, examining the corpse as well. "Perhaps we have a conspiracy theorist of sorts at hand."
"How about we wait for more evidence to come up before making any wild guesses," Prowl said pointedly. "I'll request a full autopsy from Suture. In the meantime, Nightbeat, I suggest you return your focus to Checkup's murder. Tumbler and I will handle Sherma's."
"Fine. But before I go, were you able to compile a list of suspects, Tumbler?"
"Yup." Tumbler held up a datapad. "I'll transmit it to you now. Good luck."
Nightbeat smirked before converting to his alt mode. "Since when have I ever needed luck?"
--Present--
"Wow," Crosscut said. "Now that's tempting fate, right there."
Nightbeat shrugged. "It sounded better in my head at the time."
"Excellent start, Domey," Rewind said. "While our investigators are investigating... Drift, tell us about the time you were beaten up in Rodion."
Drift frowned. "Er, could you be a bit more specific?"
"Well, I am going off a medical report filed on the fourth chord of Cycle 8314...."
"Ah, I see where this is going...."
--The past--
"Hey, Boom?"
"Yeah, Sonic?"
"Do you think we'll lose our pay if we kill this wretch?"
The thug known as Boom shrugged. "I dunno. Why?"
Sonic grinned savagely. "He's stopped twitching. Maybe I punched him a bit too hard."
Boom knelt down and rested his audio receptor against the brutally beaten Drift's chest. "Nah, his spark's still beating. He's still got some juice left, and I don't mean the circuit boosters."
Sonic chuckled as he raised his fist. "Good. 'Cause I'm just getting--"
The thug was cut off by a blaster shot to the chest. As Sonic staggered back, Boom brought out his gun and aimed it at the newcomer.
"Well, well," he growled. "If it isn't Superbot, here to save the day."
"I'm not just here to 'save the day.'"
Red and black armor gleaming in the sunlight, Optronix cocked his gun and brought out a combat staff from his back.
"I'm here to kick your skidplates."
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