HEAD GAMES
--Cybertron, Cycle 8816--
--Cybertron, Cycle 8816--
The sea of memories were not his own.
He swam through them, yes, but he could tell that they did not belong to him. The main identifier for him was that he was seeing places he had never been to, or had only heard of: the Acid Wastes of Stanix, the Rust Spot near Peptex, the Shrine of Epistemus on Tetrahex's outskirts....
After moving through the memories, he finally found the moment of time he was looking for: the second chord of Cycle 8816, in an abandoned warehouse between Praxus and Uraya. Two mechs were standing face to face: one was of the OC-72 body type common to the Triorian Guard, colored in gray and blue; the other was of a lankier build, with a darker shade of gray and with purple and green highlights.
"Here you go, Banzai-Tron," the former said, handing the latter a datapad. "A schedule of the transports due to arrive on Athenia."
"Excellent work, Dealer," the one called Banzai-Tron said. "If this is legit, you will have given the Decepticons a note-worthy victory." He stepped closer to the snitch. "However, if it is not, then you will be left to the Autobots' mercy... unless you'd rather have someone like Straxus do the honors."
Dealer merely gulped, a terrified look on his face. Apparently satisfied with this, Banzai-Tron shimmered and vanished, having been a hologram all along. Once he was gone, Dealer turned around... and froze upon seeing the interloper of his memories.
"What are you doing here?" he asked before everything faded away.
* * *
"Good work, Tumbler!" he heard Trepan say as he pulled his needle-like fingers from Dealer's neck, retracting them back into his hand. "High Command will find this info very useful."
Tumbler said nothing, instead staring somewhat disapprovingly at his hand. Although it had been in his interest to study mnemosurgery, there was still something off-putting about it. Going through one's memories, violating their privacy... many would find it wrong and immoral.
And yet, nothing was really stopping him from quitting. True, he felt obligated to continue by the fact that Zeta Prime himself had recruited him. But it was not as if the Prime had a leash on him. Or did he?
"Mirage, take Dealer to the prison transport due for Elba," Trepan said, distracting Tumbler from his musings. "I'm sure the folks at Garrus-9 will love him."
After seeing the Autobot traitor off, Trepan turned to Tumbler and smiled. "You're doing good, my apprentice. Remember, all of this is for the benefit of the Autobot cause."
Tumbler nodded, deciding not to argue the point. "Does, er, doing this- you know, injecting and viewing others' memories- have any side effects?"
Trepan rubbed his chin. "Mnemosurgeons have been known to experience flashbacks and relive inherited memories from the minds they've worked on." He then smiled. "But I doubt they're any more harmful than that. You've been doing great so far, Tumbler. I dare say you may become one of the best."
* * *
"Okay, Jolt... how many fingers am I holding up?"
The blue mech sitting in front of him blinked. "Seriously? We're in the middle of a game of Fullstais and you're now asking stupid questions like that?"
Tumbler quietly sighed in relief. Jolt clearly did not remember him injecting his needle fingers into his neck. Now it was time for the ultimate test....
"We were talking about the Decepticons, remember?" he said.
Jolt scratched his chin. "Oh yeah, that's right. Where were we?"
"You were talking about... possibly joining them," Tumbler said, choosing his words carefully.
Jolt scoffed. "Me? With those losers? Maybe when the Pit freezes over!" He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You feeling all right, Tumbler?"
Tumbler smiled behind his mouthplate. "Never better."
* * *
"Well, well, if it isn't Chromedome, the Miracle Worker."
Tumbler turned away from his work to see a black and maroon mech standing in the doorway to his office. "Oh, hey, Swiper. Wait, who's Chromedome?"
Swiper grinned. "You, of course! They're giving out nicknames to us mnemosurgeons, and even some of the other staff. You're Chromedome, that kooky scientist is Brainstorm... Trepan's already got a head based name...."
"And who are you?"
Swiper's smile faded and became a scowl. "Mindwipe. No doubt because I accidentally erased Sketch's memories."
"I wouldn't be too hard on yourself about that," Tumbler said. "Our line of work is a tough one, and accidents are bound to happen. Besides, I like the sound of 'Mindwipe.'"
Swiper smirked. "Still not as good as Chromedome."
-Four years later-
It had happened all so fast.
He had been standing there with Trepan, preparing to lobotomize Soundwave, when he heard the thunder of footsteps, accompanied by blaster fire and the cry of, "Where is he?" Not long after, the door to their lab flew off its connectors and a large mech stormed through, his optics set on Trepan.
Tumbler moved to save his mentor but was quickly shot down. Helpless to do anything, he merely watched as Overlord and his Seeker companions freed Soundwave from his restraints and stormed out of the New Institute with Trepan in tow.
As Pharma and the medics rushed to his aid, a single thought ran through Tumbler's head: How did they know? How could the Decepticons have found the Institute? The only ones who knew the location were his fellow staff members and Zeta Prime. Could one of them have divulged information? But they had all been completely loyal to the Autobots, except for-
Trepan. He had set them all up for this raid. He knew Soundwave would be in captivity and so informed the Decepticons of his location. Tumbler was glad then that the 'Cons had taken Trepan; it would save him the trouble of scrapping the pile of slag....
* * *
Mindwipe grinned with satisfaction as he pulled his needle fingers out of Chromedome's neck. The sea of memories had not been his own, but he had nonetheless been able to modify them to cover his tracks. His work done, he returned to the shadows of the medbay, leaving behind no one but himself to remember exactly what had happened....
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