CHAPTER TWO
"Do you always visit this place?"
Nightbeat looked up at Tumbler as he and Prowl walked into Maccadam's Old Oil House. As the two officers sat down, the detective said, "Drinking Visco helps me think."
"Sure it does," Tumbler replied. "So, Prowl here tells me that you have a lead on the escaped Decepticons."
Nightbeat nodded, bringing out a small microchip. "I've compiled all of the security cam footage of each escape and synchronized them."
"And what did you find out?" Prowl asked.
"That each escape happened at the same time with the same thing happening: the footage cutting out for a cycle."
"So it's like something- or someone- is letting them escape simultaneously." Tumbler scratched the chin of his orange mouthplate. "But what or who?"
"Well, I have noticed something else," Nightbeat said. "Each prisoner is a Decepticon who did not surrender at the end of the war. This leads me to believe that a Decepticon- perhaps one of the warlords- planned their escapes."
"Yeah, but who? We can't just go strolling into Decepticon territory and go, 'Hey, Trannis! Care to explain these 'cons running around Cybertron?'"
"Actually," Prowl murmured. "We can."
Tumbler and Nightbeat stared at him in bewilderment. "What?"
A sly smile crossed the officer's face. "I'm friends with an inventor named Wheeljack, of the Science Division. He's recently developed something that may be of use to us."
"And what would that be?" Nightbeat asked, looking skeptical. "Camouflage?"
"Close," Prowl replied. "It's actually a bit more convincing."
* * *
"It's called electronic paint job," Wheeljack said as he rummaged through his untidy workshop. "It comes in the form of a chip which you install into your systems. You can then adopt any color scheme that fits your fancy."
He then stopped as he brought out a jetpack. "Huh. I was wondering where I left this."
"Mind if we borrow that?" Tumbler asked, regarding the device with intrigue. "You know, in case we need to make a hasty getaway."
"Sure thing," Wheeljack said. "Three jetpacks, coming up."
"Er, actually, only Tumbler and I are going," Prowl said. "Nightbeat isn't coming; says it's not in his line of work."
The inventor gave him a stern look. "I know. I'm coming with you. Because do you really think I would trust you guys with these things?"
"With what?" Tumbler asked. "Fancy camouflage and jetpacks? What could go wrong with those?"
"Anything!" Wheeljack snapped. "You're going into Decepticon territory here. And I want to make sure my stuff works before I ask for a patent."
"He's got a point," Tumbler said. "I wouldn't be surprised if one of us didn't make it out alive. We're gonna need more help... and maybe a good plan."
"Good thing I've had one in mind for the past five cycles," Prowl said.
Wheeljack gave him an incredulous look before glancing at Tumbler, who merely shrugged, unfazed.
"Don't ask me how he does it. He just does."
"Right," Wheeljack muttered. "And what exactly will this plan entail?"
Prowl smirked. "Well, we might need more than three jetpacks."
* * *
"That has got to be the stupidest plan I have ever heard."
Standing before Elite Guard commander Zeta inside his office, Tumbler nudged Prowl with his elbow. "I told this was a dumb idea," he muttered.
"Quiet," Prowl hissed. To Zeta, he said, "With all due respect, sir, I doubt you can find a better strategy."
"But the general idea of heading into Decepticon territory is insane in of itself!" Zeta snapped. "They're ruthless, paranoid, and merciless. You'd be spotted and killed in no time."
"I am fully aware of that," Prowl said, his tone even. "I took all of that into account when formulating my strategy. Again, I doubt you can find a better one."
"Might as well just give up, sir," Tumbler said to Zeta. "Once he starts an argument, he never leaves until he's won."
Zeta sighed. "You two can go into Decepticon territory for all you want, if it means that much to you. But leave my men- and any other Autobot- out of it, unless they want to come along as well."
For a moment, Prowl remained silent, locked in a staring contest with his superior officer. Finally, the former said, "What about the Wreckers?"
Zeta blinked. "The Wreckers? No one really controls them, except maybe Ultra Magnus." He leaned back in his seat. "I suppose they might be willing to help, given their taste for danger. But don't expect any Elite Guardsman to go with you."
"I will."
Tumbler and Prowl turned to see a red and black Autobot standing in the doorway to Zeta's office.
"I'll go with you," Optronix said. "If Ultra Magnus and the others would rather sit on their tailpipes and bide their time, then so be it. But I'll go with you."
Zeta rolled his eyes. "Okay it's you three, plus how ever many Wreckers there are and how many other Autobots who wish to tag-along, against at least a thousand Decepticons. Have you calculated those odds, Prowl?"
Prowl smiled. "As of half a minute ago, yes."
* * *
"Any sign of her?" Nitrostreak called out to the members of his squad as they searched for the Decepticon Flamewar in Kaon's industrial region.
"Negative, sir," replied High Beam, kicking an empty oil can. "Heck, I don't even see any Constructicons. Don't they have a night-shift?"
"Er, sir?" Overshoot said. "I think you should come see this...."
Nitrostreak and the other two officers rushed over to his side. Engraved in the ground before them was the unmistakable insignia of the Decepticons.
"She can't be far, then," Getout said. "Maybe we should- gah!"
The Autobot officer collapsed to the ground, a newly made hole seared into his forehead. The others turned to see their quarry standing behind them, a blaster rifle in hand.
A wicked grin crossed Flamewar's face. "Do you all make the same sound when you die? Let's find out."
Some would be grateful that they were not around to hear or see the massacre that followed.
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