CHAPTER THREE
--Earth--
"If these guys are supposed to be knockoffs, why are they hard to kill than Vehicon?"
"Isn't that the question of the day, Drift," Hound said as he wrestled with a Trax drone. "Maybe 'cause they don't have as much of a personality."
"Or maybe because you two aren't focusing," Arcee said, having just sliced apart another Trax with her arm blades. "Less banter, more fighting."
As the four Autobots continued fighting the Traxes, none of them noticed the dark-colored muscle car slowly driving up to the scene, its headlights set on one Autobot in particular. The moment anyone took notice of it, it would be too late.
* * *
Prowl stepped into the command center of Autobot Outpost Omega One. He found it strange to call it that, considering it had never had much of a descriptor beyond "Autobot HQ." But with more and more Autobots being revived from the Ark, Sector Seven decided to give them multiple outposts in order to spread them out better.
In the commander center, he found most of the Autobots under his command at work: Ironhide, the Lambo twins, Mirage, Bulkhead, and the one mech Prowl was looking for-- Wheeljack. As he made his way towards the inventor, Wheeljack barely moved his head to look at him.
"Before you ask: No, Arcee and her team aren't back yet; no, Ratchet isn't back yet; and no, I'm not having a good day."
Prowl stopped to cross his arms. "I wasn't going to ask any of those things. I need you in my office."
Wordlessly, Wheeljack moved away from his station and followed Prowl to the latter's office. Upon entering the tidy, well-organized room, Prowl took a seat at his equally-neat desk while Wheeljack stood before him.
"What is this about, Prowl?" the inventor asked.
"That device the humans gave you three months ago," Prowl replied.
"Hmm? Oh yeah, that thingy. What about it?"
"You said you thought it came from the Institute."
"So I did. Like I said, what about it?"
Prowl tented his fingers. "You didn't work at the Institute, did you?"
Wheeljack shook his head. "No, but I know someone who did. I used to work with Brainstorm at Kimia Facility and he told me about his work at Zeta Prime's New Institute, so I know what kind of tech they used. It was just between us, though."
"So why are you comfortable with telling me this?"
"Because I figured you would try to blackmail me or something to get your answers. It's your style."
Prowl opened his mouth to object to the accusation but decided against it. Instead, he said, "Never mind. Do you have any idea how Scorponok or Machination was able to get a hold of Institute tech?"
Wheeljack shrugged. "Not a clue. I doubt a gladiator like Scorponok would have worked at the old Institute, and he sure didn't at Zeta's."
Prowl frowned. "That leaves only two possibilities: either he stole it... or someone gave it to him."
"Any suspects, Sherlock?"
Prowl ignored the Earth reference as he tapped his chin. "I'll have to give it some thought. But thank you for your time, Wheeljack."
Taking those words as dismissal, Wheeljack walked out of the office. Left alone to dwell on his thoughts, Prowl reached for his communicator and contacted the one person he could trust to handle a situation like this.
"It's me. I have a job for you."
* * *
Dodging a stray shot from one of the Trax drones, Drift spun with his twin short-swords in hand and sliced the man-made bot apart, letting its parts join others of its kind on the ground.
Three down, two to go, he thought. No idea knockoffs would be so hard to--
His mind left him when something struck him in the back. Dazed, he dropped to his knees, struggling to pick up his bearings. He could hear Bumblebee and the others calling his name, as well as footsteps approaching him from behind.
"Wow," a cold, raspy voice said sardonically. "That was a major letdown. I was expecting better resistance from someone as renowned as you, Deadlock. Guess all of those claims were a bit exaggerated."
Drift gritted his teeth upon hearing his renounced name. "Megatron sent you, did he?"
"Heh, you must not be very up to date on recent events. But no matter; you'll know my employer soon enough." As Drift's aggressor bent down to restrain him, a blast courtesy of Bumblebee's stingers hit the mech square in the back.
"You're not getting away with another one of our own this time, Lockdown!" the Autobot scout called.
Having barely flinched from the attack, the Cybertronian bounty hunter turned his head to glare at Bumblebee. "Do I know you? I'm not good with names and faces."
"You captured Optimus Prime on Junkion," Bumblebee said darkly.
"Ah, now that I remember." Lockdown chuckled. "You Autobots have better memories than I give you credit for. But enough talk; I have a bounty to turn in."
"Not on my watch."
Out of the corner of his optics, Drift saw Arcee charging, both arm blades brandished. Nonchalantly, Lockdown raised his left arm and revealed a twin-barreled gun. An electromagnetic pulse shot from it, hitting Arcee and causing her systems to seize up.
As the Autobot warrior fell, Drift heard Hound cry, "No!" As the green mech came running, Lockdown fired another pulse, though instead of knocking him out, it simply made the Autobot disappear.
Unfazed by this, Lockdown grunted. "Hnn. Holograms. Figures." He then twisted around, exchanging the EMP generator for a blaster, and shot it at the real Hound, who was approaching him from behind. He then did the same to Bumblebee, disabling all four Autobots in the manner of minutes.
"That was fun," the bounty hunter said as he then began affixing stasis cuffs and inhibitor claws onto Drift.
"You're going to regret this," Drift growled.
Lockdown laughed harshly. "No more than you're going to regret changing sides."
At that, Drift heard a loud roar of engines. Descending from the sky was a dark red spacecraft, armed to the teeth and with two energy sails on its sides. As a hatch opened in the ship's underbelly, Lockdown took a hold of his quarry and the two of them shot up into the ship.
* * *
By the time Arcee had come back to her senses, Lockdown's ship was little more than a glint in the sky. The two remaining Traxes had also fled from the scene; apparently all they had been after was Drift, the other Autobots being mere obstacles.
Talk about deja vu, she thought, recalling an event similar to this one involving Sunstreaker. Was Machination seeking out more test subjects? Or was Lockdown working for someone else?
Megatron sent you, did he? Drift's words to the bounty hunter rang in her head. What had he meant by that, she wondered. Was there something he had not let on about himself?
"Well, smelt," Hound muttered as he sat up from where he had been laying. "This little trip certainly went downhill."
"So now what do we do?" Bumblebee asked, struggling to get back to his feet. "Do we go after them or just let Lockdown get away with one of our own?"
Arcee sighed. "I don't know, 'Bee. I think we should report to Prowl and have him decide on the next best course of action."
Bumblebee grimaced. "I hate it when we have to resort to Prowl."
"I know," Arcee said. "But he's the only person we have for guidance, besides Jazz."
"Hey, it could be worse," Hound said with a weak smile. "We could have Swerve."
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"Out of all the people on my list of those to watch out for, your name is at the very top."
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