CHAPTER THREE
--Clemency--
Fulcrum winced as he gingerly held up the remains of a fallen Decepticon. He couldn't fathom how anyone could so casually and carelessly take parts from the corpses of their own brethren. Were these Scavengers that heartless? Or simply desperate?
"It's not gonna bite ya," Crankcase said snidely as Fulcrum continued fingering the corpse awkwardly.
Fulcrum glared at him. "Aren't you the least bit bothered by it? By robbing the dead of their parts?"
"It's not robbery if they aren't using it anymore."
"But it's disrespectful towards the dead! Towards our brothers!"
Crankcase sneered at him. "Are you sure you're a Decepticon, Fulcrum? You should know that the word 'respect' means nothing to us. In fact, didn't Megatron ban that word?"
"Nah, that's just a tall tale some bots made up," Misfire said as he fiddled with a fuel pump. "Besides, Starscream used it in his speech when he declared himself leader."
"Wait, since when did Starscream become leader?" Fulcrum asked, confused.
Misfire grinned. "Oh, that's right, you wouldn't know. Can I tell him, Krok? Please, oh, please?"
"No, I'll handle it," Krok said, walking up to Fulcrum. "You keep scouring this area. We won't be long."
He led Fulcrum a good few miles away from the other Scavengers before turning to look at him. "The war's over."
"What? Since when?"
Krok shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. Officially, it ended 113 years ago when Megatron and Optimus Prime vanished and our two factions joined to take out the Fallen."
"The Fallen?"
"Long story. Anyway, after that, we went into a cold war for the next century, during which Starscream returned without Megatron and declared himself leader. Things then briefly became total war when Megatron returned and Shockwave led his forces in a final attack on Cybertron."
"And... did we win?"
Krok hesitated before answering. "Yes... but as it turned out, these folks who call themselves the Heralds of Unicron were behind everything and are now our true rulers, with Megatron simply as a figurehead."
Fulcrum winced at the mention of the Chaos Bringer's name before saying, "So, uh, is that a good thing or bad?"
"You tell me," Krok muttered as he returned to the graveyard that covered Clemency.
--The Lost Light--
"Messatine, huh?" Elita held her chin in her hand, considering what Brainstorm and Nautica had told her about retrieving a wavelength transmitter. "That's pretty close to Decepticon territory. Dangerously close."
"Yeah, well, what's a little more danger for us nowadays?" Brainstorm said flippantly.
"That's not very encouraging coming from you, Mr. Briefcase of Doom," Windblade muttered from the ship's controls.
"But think of it this way," Nautica said to Elita. "We take this risk, get the transmitter, use it to find Optimus Prime, then all of our worries are over."
"That's a lot of faith to put into some doohickey," Riptide commented from the navigational grid. "But given the circumstances, I'm all for it."
After considering the idea further, Elita finally said, "All right, we'll got to Messatine. Five of you will go down to visit Delphi while the rest of us keep our optics peeled for Decepticons."
"Sounds good," Brainstorm said. "Though let's not take Swerve down with us, especially if we want to get in to Delphi...."
--Clemency--
"Out of my way!"
Fulcrum ducked as a magenta jet shot over his head. He watched as Misfire flew off towards the distance, on a straight course for whatever it was he had seen.
"What the spark was that about?" Fulcrum exclaimed.
Krok sighed. "Do you believe in the Necrobot, Fulcrum?"
"You mean the mute neutral who roams the battlefields of the Great War, administering posthumous rites to the fallen?" Fulcrum shook his head. "Not really, no."
"Neither do I, but Misfire does." Krok shook his head in disdain. "He always does this: he'll get all excited, thinking he's spotted something, fly towards whatever he saw, and then go... wait for it...."
"I've lost him!" Misfire cried, transforming to robot mode. "I-- wait... what the Flywheels is that?"
He turned to the other Scavengers and beckoned them. "Guys, come and see this! I've found a Decepticon ship!"
"How can you tell it's a Decepticon ship?" Krok asked skeptically as he and the others reached Misfire's position.
Misfire looked from him to the Decepticon insignia-shaped vessel jutting out from the ground. "Seriously?"
"Wow." Crankcase's mouth was agape as he stared at the ship in awe. "A D-Class Worldsweeper, P-6 model. Its been my lifelong dream to fly one of these babies."
"Yup, the good ol' symbol ships," Misfire said. "Too bad they always like to crash."
"Shall we explore it, gentle-bots?" Krok asked. "There's bound to be some good parts on it."
"It's better than touching corpses," Fulcrum muttered as he followed the five Scavengers towards the ship.
--Delphi--
"How is Dogfight holding up?"
"Not good, Medix," Ambulon bitterly replied as he operated on the rust-coated Autobot. "The rust has gotten to his motors and T-cog. If those go out, then so will he."
Medix bit his metal lip. "And Roulette?"
"She's doing fine. It baffles me though why it's spreading faster on some and slower on others."
Medix patted him on the shoulder. "Just do what you can for them. If you need me, I'll be searching for Pharma."
Ambulon scowled. "You'd be a lot more helpful here--"
But the Autobot medic was already out the door.
Makeshift's anxiety grew with each stride down the corridor. Between the D.J.D.'s inevitable arrival and the rust pandemic, he wasn't sure he was going to live to see tomorrow. He needed to call help and fast.
Entering his quarters, he rushed over to his monitor station and quickly contacted Cybertron. "High Command, this is Agent 777, stationed at Delphi on Messatine. I require retrieval immediately."
Static. Racking his brain, he tried Plan B.
"Agent 513, this is 777. My position has been... well, not exactly compromised, but I need to get out of here asap!"
Static. Had everyone just died on him?
Suddenly, his monitor beeped, but it was not someone responding to him; rather, it had detected an Autobot shuttle entering Messatine's atmosphere. The initial question of the shuttle's purpose was quickly brushed aside by an idea sparking in Makeshift's head. Already a plan for escape was formulating in his head.
"Medix, I need you in Ward H!"
"Coming, First Aid," the double agent called back as a crafty grin formed on his faceplate.
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"I see dead people."
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