Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--Caminus--

    If one had to use only a single word to describe Caminus, it would have been beautiful.

    The surface of the planet was coated with a vibrant silver sheen, made only brighter by the gleam of the sun. Crystal structures sprouted from the ground appearing almost translucent in the daytime. In some areas, organics blue growth could be found, usually in the form of small forests. This was all that remained of Caminus before it was colonized by Cybertronians several millennia ago.

    As the Rodpod traversed the stunning landscape, those on board stared at it in awe, mesmerized by such beauty. Even Cyclonus seemed taken aback by it all. After a long bout of wonder-strucked, open-mouthed silence, it was Whirl who finally voiced his opinion on this display of splendor and elegance.

    "This place sucks. When do we go home?"

    "Quiet, you!" Nautica reprimanded him, slapping him upside the head. "At least let some of us have our moment. Windblade and I haven't been here in... how long has it been, Windy?"

    "Too long," Windblade murmured, her hand on the window as she stared down at her old homeworld. "I've forgotten how... beautiful it was."

    "Do you think any of our friends are still here? Swift, Lightbright, Maxima...."

    "Who can say? I just hope Maxima hasn't forgotten our bet."

    The Rodpod continued to make its way across the Camien landscape with some direction from Windblade. In short time, the glowing capitol of Caminus -- the spiral-shaped Citadel of Flame -- laid straight ahead. For a fleeting moment, as the Rodpod sped forward, Rodimus felt his enthusiasm return, as if reenergized by now being one step closer to fulfilling their quest.

    Then he glanced to his left and it all went away again.

    He counted four, maybe five shuttles, done up in the same color scheme as the Vis Vitalis flying towards the Citadel. Down below, native Camiens were cheering on the procession with such excitement and energy, one would think Primus himself had just descended from the heavens.

    But that wasn't the case, was it? No, it was because Thunderclash had arrived.

    Ultra Magnus seemed to have seen the ships as well, for he was already looking at Rodimus. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

    "Yeah," Rodimus said, tearing his gaze away from the ships. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just fine."

    "Be sure to land over there," Windblade said from behind him, pointing over his shoulder to a landing zone fifty miles away from the Citadel. "Only reserved ships are allowed to land in the hangar. Those that aren't get shot down."

    "Yeesh, I thought Camiens were supposed to be a peaceful lot," Swerve said. "Y'know, the kind who'd swear off guns and the sort."

    "You're thinking of Paradron. Besides, they aren't that lethal; just strong enough to bring them down so that security can apprehend them."

    As Windblade explained all this, Rodimus noticed with some annoyance that the five Vis Vitalis shuttles had not been shot down and were entering the Citadel's hangar. With a small grunt to himself, he proceeded to bring the Rodpod down onto the landing pad, where a group of Camien greeters awaited them.

    "Oi! Is that who I think it is?" Nautica pressed her face to the window to get a better look at the entourage. "White chassis, big blue chest... oh, spark, it is him."

    "Don't tell me," Windblade said, rolling her optics. "Your old Conjunx is here."

    "He's not my--! We never--! No!" Nautica stammered. "We were just friends. That's all. Nothing more than that."

    "Really? I didn't know 'just friends' went on for hours about how great their 'just friend' was. I think you talked more about him than you ever did your actual Amica Endura."

    "That doesn't mean anything," Nautica murmured, crossing her arms in discomfort.

    "Not the way I see it."

    "All right, everyone settle down," Ultra Magnus ordered. "We must be on our best behavior if we're to get on the Camiens' good side."

    "Easier said than done," Skids muttered. "After all, we brought Whirl along."

    "Okay, 'dad,'" Whirl said sardonically. "I'll be good this time. Promise."

    Soon, the Rodpod touched down on the landing pad and the twenty bots gathered at the back of the ship, where the exit ramp was. Just as he was about to open it, Rodimus murmured a quick prayer to himself (he would never consider himself religious, but it couldn't hurt) before hitting the control panel and lowering the ramp.

    Standing before them was a group of three Camiens. In the lead was the mech Nautica had described and behind him were two femmes, both yellow while one was a large bulldozer, the other a small motorcycle. All three of them wore an Autobot badge.

    "Welcome to Caminus!" the lead mech greeted them. "My name's Overcast, and these two are Treadbolt and Rapid Run."

    "Hi, Overcast, I'm Rodimus. Captain of the Lost Light." He gestured to Ultra Magnus, Drift, and then the others. "This is Ultra Magnus my first mate, Drift my left-hand-bot, and seventeen of my crew."

    "Just seventeen, huh?" Overcast said, studying the crew members. "How big is your crew?"

    "About two hundred strong," Rodimus said proudly.

    "Two hundred? Impressive." Overcast looked over at Treadbolt. "Is that a record?"

    "Well, Thunderclash had three hundred and thirty-two crew members when I was on board the Vis Vitalis," Treadbolt replied. "Though that's not counting me, so that would make it thirty-three...."

    "Huh. It was only one hundred and thirteen when I joined. Though that would have been when he first arrived...." Overcast then turned back to Rodimus, who now bore a sour expression. "Anyway, never mind that. It's not about the number, but the people anyway. I look forward to becoming associated with each and every one of you."

    "Well, from my understanding, you already are with two of them." Rodimus stepped aside to allow Windblade and a very shy Nautica to step forward. "They were actually talking about you on the way here."

    "Was not," Nautica said in an undertone.

    Overcast tilted his head at them, his visor narrowing. "It's Wingblade, right? Wingblade and... Naughty Nautica?"

    "Windblade," the red femme firmly clarified.

    "And... it's just Nautica," the purple one murmured.

    Overcast laughed, spreading his arms out wide. "Ah, I'm just messing with you two! I could never forget your names... or nicknames," he added with a nod to Nautica.

    Nautica revved quietly to herself before speaking. "Um, yeah. So... how's it been, Overcast?"

    "Pretty good, actually. Not much happens here on Caminus these days-- heck, we only just heard last week that the war ended." Overcast then stepped over to Nautica and pulled her over to him, throwing an arm over her shoulders as he walked her in the direction of the Citadel. "But enough from me. I can't wait to hear all about your adventures."

    While Overcast and Nautica walked towards the Citadel, followed closely by a dour Windblade, Rodimus and the others were stepped from proceeding by Rapid Run, waving a scanner in her hands.

    "Hold it right there, folks," she said. "I'm gonna have to ask you to remove your weapons."

    "What?" Rodimus said incredulously. "Why?"

    "Ever since the assassination attempt on the Mistress of Flame ten years ago, non-Camiens are no longer allowed to have weapons inside the citadel." Treadbolt held out her hand. "Please. If you don't mind."

    The eighteen bots complied and turned in their weapons, which Treadbolt stored away on her person. Rapid Run was still waving her scanner however, glaring up at Skids.

    "Please remove all weaponry, sir," she ordered.

    Skids sighed. "I can't. They're built into my body. It would take wickedly precise incision to remove them without killing me."

    "Then I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay out here."

    Rodimus looked over to Skids sadly. "Skids...."

    "No, no, it's okay. I don't mind waiting with the Rodpod." Skids waved his hand dismissively. "Really. It's fine."

    "Well, I'd hate to leave you without company," Rodimus said. "I'll have Ariel stay behind with you. From what I've gathered, the two of you have formed something of a bond."

    Skids smiled at Ariel, who meekly smiled back. "Yeah, we have."

    "Hey, I'm a people-person too," Rapid Run said cheerily, losing her stern demeanor. "You can always chat with me if you want."

    Rodimus chuckled. "Well then, since you're all set...." He converted to his alt mode and revved up his engine. "Let's roll."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--The Lost Light--

    "That's enough. No more for today."

    "I beg to differ." Rung moved over to Fortress Maximus' bedside, gently pushing him back down. "We've barely even started."

    The former warden of Garrus-9 scowled. "We've been at this for three hours now."

    "Yes, and what have we accomplished in those three hours?" Rung asked, lifting an eyebrow. "You still haven't told me what happened at Garrus-9 and Garrus-16."

    "I told you what happened. The Decepticons attacked and they slaughtered us. End of story."

    "No, there must be more to it than that. I need details, Fort Max. First-hand accounts. You're the only bot who can give them to me."

    Fort Max said nothing, staring at the ceiling above him.

    Rung sighed as he sat back down in his chair. "Let's try a different approach. We'll start from the beginning: when, where, and how were you created?"

    "How is that relevant?" Fort Max grunted.

    "I understand it's a personal thing to ask," Rung said, reaching over and picking up a model craft from his desk. "But you're story of creation is different from most, I take it. You weren't always called Fortress Maximus, correct?"

    "Right," Fort Max muttered. "I used to be called Cerebros. Cerebros of Stanix."

    "Stanix," Rung murmured. "That city fell to the Decepticons early on in the war, didn't it?"

    "If by early, you mean a century in, then yes. The 'Cons wanted Stanix since it had produced a hot spot and they wanted to take the sparks for themselves. A team of Autobots intercepted them and were able to recover some of the sparks -- mine included -- before being forced to retreat when the 'Cons threatened to destroy the hot spot."

    "I see." Rung flipped the model over, frowning at the absence of a particular piece. "What after then? What was your first assignment during the war?"

    Fort Max narrowed his optics as he struggled to remember. "My first assignment was... it was...."

    A loud beeping sound cut him off. Rung sighed as he silenced the timer and stood up from his chair. "That's all the time we have for today. I'll see you again in twenty-four hours."

    As Fort Max sat up and swung his legs over the berth, he gave Rung a pointed look. "I've heard that we've reached Caminus."

    "So have I, and no, you're not going," Rung said sternly. "You are in no stable condition to--"

    "To what? To meet and greet with people? It's not like we're heading into some kind of warzone. It's Caminus; they've never heard of war."

    "That's a rather unfair generalization... but I see your point." Rung readjusted his spectacles as he thought over this. With a resigned sigh, he finally said, "Very well, you may go down to Caminus... on the condition that I accompany you."

    "Fine by me." Fort Max got to his feet and started to head out the door, only to stop and look back at Rung. "What about Ariel? Isn't she your next patient?"

    "Yes, but I suppose her session will have to wait until we leave Caminus. I'll ask Skids to bring her along as well -- she's under his care right now."

    "Since I know you're going to ask: I had no idea about her," Fort Max said as he and Rung stepped out into the hall. "She wasn't part of the Garrus-9 staff and, to be honest, she doesn't strike me as someone who would work at Garrus-16 either."

    "I find that understandable," Rung murmured. "She is somewhat... special."

    Fort Max looked at him curiously. "In what way?"

    Rung waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind. We should get down to the hangar bay before Rodimus leaves without us. He tends to get rather impatient...."

*  *  *

    Rodimus was in no hurry to leave.

    Normally he'd be jumping off the walls in excitement for finally reaching the first destination on their quest. A part of him still wanted to. But seeing Thunderclash's ship had killed his enjoyment faster than a fusion cannon to the face.

    As such, he didn't particularly mind when Whirl got into a blazing row with Cyclonus while boarding the Rodpod. Or when Swerve "accidentally" left an oil mark on Ultra Magnus' leg. Or when Glyph nearly bit Nautica's head off for giving her and Tailgate a funny look. Or when Chromedome and Rewind got into an argument over who sat where. Or when Getaway gave Ratchet an unwanted bomp.

    He didn't mind it at all. Anything that prolonged an encounter with Thunderclash was fine by him.

    "And Nightbeat makes twenty," Ultra Magnus said after finishing his headcount. He grimaced at seeing so many unruly bots crowded together in one space, half of them those he strongly disliked. "Primus preserve me," he muttered. "If I don't go insane from this trip...."

    "Hey, don't feel too bad," Rodimus said as he took the controls. "I'm right there with you."

    "I thought you were looking forward to this visit."

    "I was. I am."

    Magnus frowned at him, raising an optic ridge. "Is this about Thunderclash?"

    "No," Rodimus lied. "Don't be ridiculous."

    "I'm just saying. Your mood's been dour ever since we spotted the Vis Vitalis." Magnus tilted his head. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

    "There's nothing to talk about," Rodimus muttered as he set about starting up the ship. "Look, it's nothing, all right? Let's just... let's just get this over with. We've had enough diversions already."

    Magnus continued to stare at him concernedly but did not press the matter further. Eventually, he ended up striding over to separate Whirl and Cyclonus from each other again. The engines then started up and the Rodpod was soon out the hangar.

--Outpost One--

    "That's enough. No more for today."

    The torture device obediently retracted and Ricochet let out a weak whir from his damaged vocal processor. Through his equally broken optics, he could make out the shadowed form of his torturer hovering over him.

    "Congratulations. We're finally making progress. You've given me quite a lot of info -- info that would be extremely useful and dangerous in Decepticon hands."

    Ricochet tried to gather the strength to break free from his bonds but could not find it. His captor chuckled as a clawed hand gently stroked his face.

    "But I am no Decepticon. I have no use for the details you have given me. I need something more juicy -- something that I can use against Prowl. Maybe tomorrow you'll do better."

    A switch was hit and the binders around Ricochet's hands snapped open. As the Autobot dropped from the raised medical slab, a set of arms caught him and hauled him up, bringing him face to face with his captor. Ricochet forced his facial struts to form a sneer.

    "May Mortilus have your spark," he growled.

    "How touching," the hellspawn of a robot replied. "You think I still have one."

    He then waved his hand and Ricochet was dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming all the way.

*  *  *

    Artfire could hear people screaming.

    He was alone in a dark room, bound to a raised slab. His guard had told him that his tormentor would be here shortly, after they were done with Ricochet. Artfire had been in the midst of praying for his friend when he first heard the screams.

    A sudden tremor flipped the room on its side and the table Artfire was on was dislodged from the floor. One of his binders broke off and he was able to rid himself of his other restraints. Getting to his feet, he made his way towards the door, which had already been disconnected slightly. Once he had pried it all the way open, he was greeted by a rather peculiar sight.

    A giant floating hand had all five fingers wrapped around a scared-looking Decepticon while another spoke panickedly into its comm.

    "I repeat: we have an invader on Sector D1! Send backup immed--"

    "I don't think so." In quick succession, the giant hand squeezed its victim until he popped before flipping over and changing into a twin-headed dragon, crushing the other bot beneath his feet. The dragon then let out a deafening roar as it called out the name of Artfire's captor.

    "TARANTULAS! Come out here now before I tear this place apart with my bare hands!"

    "I'm coming, I'm coming." Descending from the ceiling on a strand of web was a giant arachnid, its eight eyes gleaming with malice as it came to directly face the dragon. "Patience has never been one of your stronger suits, has it, Gigatron?"

    The dragon snarled. "You've deceived me, Tarantulas."

    "Have I?" the arachnid said, feigning surprise. "Please, do enlighten me."

    "You lied to me about Ragnarok. You said he would give me the power I sought, but I spent three months studying him and nothing! Nothing came about it!"

    "Only three months?" Tarantulas chuckled. "Well, there's you're problem right there. I would've spent at least three years or--"

    Suddenly, the dragon transformed into a hulking robot, grabbing the spider by the head and tearing it off of its web. As Tarantulas was thrown onto the ground, he changed into his robot mode as well and glared at Gigatron as he got to his feet.

    "Right. I understand that you're upset. Perhaps we can talk this out. But before we do so...." He inclined his head to where Artfire was standing. Gigatron followed his gaze and narrowed his optics at the Autobot.

    "I don't suppose you could show our guest to his room?"

    Without further prompting, Gigatron returned to his dragon mode and the last thing Artfire saw was the enormous beast bearing down on him.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--The Lost Light--

    "No, no, no! Faster! More intense!"

    Crosscut fumed as he stormed onto the stage. This display of anger caused some of the actors on stage to back away, fearful of what their director was going to do.

    "Pincher, you're supposed to be fighting Smokescreen, not awkwardly wrestling with him. Throw some punches, be rough, get down and dirty."

    "Hey, I didn't sign up to be a punching dummy," Smokescreen protested. "My role is small enough as is."

    Crosscut stepped towards the blue and red bot and glared at him. When Smokescreen did not back down, the director said, "Fine. I guess I'll just have Rad do it then."

    Smokescreen blinked before finally stepping back, grousing a half-hearted, "Fine, whatever."

    Satisfied, Crosscut then moved on to his next cause of grief: a grinning, wide-eyed Clutch sitting on a set piece that was meant to be a bench of sorts.

    Crosscut huffed as he stood before the self-proclaimed Swerve fanboy. "Clutch, you're supposed to be Pincher and Smokescreen's best friend. You don't want them to fight. You're telling them to stop."

    "I did," Clutch said, not breaking from his smile. "I said my lines, didn't I?"

    "Yes, but you shouldn't be grinning when you say them! You're supposed to be distraught, dismayed by this conflict!" Crosscut then ran a hand over his faceplate, knowing he was going to regret even asking: "Why are you smiling anyway?"

    "Because I've never been in a play before! This is my big break! I'm going to be famous!"

    Crosscut started to say something but then stopped himself. He would have to choose his words carefully if he wanted to get anywhere with this.

    "Yes, I understand that," he finally said. "But if you want to be a famous actor, then you have to be a good one. And a good actor always hides his emotions."

    "Got it," Clutch said, still smiling. "I'll do my best."

    Crosscut severely doubted that, but he decided to let the matter rest. Besides, there was yet another thing of consternation for him to handle and he turned to Sprocket, his camerabot, to express it.

    "Where the slag is Tailgate with those props? He should have been here half an hour ago!"

    "If I were to wager a guess, I'd say he's probably with his girlfriend," Sprocket muttered.

    "Girlfriend?" Crosscut asked. "What's a girlfriend? What is that word? I don't know that word. Stop using words I don't know. I'm the playwright here, not you."

    "Girlfriend, sparkmate, Conjunx Endura-to-be, whatever. Point is, I have yet to see him without that blue femme clinging onto him. It's... bizarre, to say the least."

    Crosscut huffed, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I guess we'll just have to make do for--"

    "ATTENTION, ATTENTION!" An ear-splitting voice clamored from the intercom, causing everyone to cover their audio-receptors. "ALL HANDS, REPORT DIRECTLY TO THE BRIDGE! RODIMUS HAS AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE! REPEAT: ALL HANDS--"

    "Gah, who's bright idea was it to make Siren the PA system?" Smokescreen griped. 

    "Who cares?" Crosscut muttered, already walking off the stage. "Let's just go before I lose my hearing as well as my mind."

*  *  *

    "Glyph?"

    "Hmm?"

    "What are you doing?"

    Glyph lifted her head up from Tailgate's shoulder, her optics twinkling as she smiled at him. "Cuddling you."

    "What's a cuddle?"

    "It's what couples do when they love each other."

    "Really? I don't see Chromedome and Rewind do this."

    Glyph giggled, a melodious sound that Tailgate always enjoyed for some reason. "That's 'cause it's a private thing, silly. It's not meant to be seen by others."

    "Why not?" Tailgate asked, suddenly anxious. "Will we get punished if we get caught?"

    "No...." She rested her head on his shoulder again, closing her optics blissfully. "It's just something best shared alone by two."

    "Oh. I see." Tailgate fell silent for some time, savoring this special moment as he laid on his recharge slab with Glyph at his side. He then titled his head towards her and said, "Glyph?"

    "Mmm-hmm?"

    "Remember that time when you... when I was cured of Cybercrosis and you... did that thing?"

    Glyph lifted her head to look at him. "You mean when I kissed you?"

    "Yeah, that." Tailgate looked back at her sheepishly. "Do you think you could... do that again?"

    A bright smile curved across her gold faceplate. "Of course."

    She then leaned into him, bringing her face closer to his....

    "ATTENTION! ATTENTION! ALL HANDS, REPORT DIRECTLY TO THE BRIDGE!"

    Glyph sighed as she pulled away, though she kept her smile as she got off the recharge slab. "Maybe later," she said as she sauntered out of the hab suite. Tailgate followed her closely, only to stop when he saw a tall, violet mech coming down the corridor, his red optics set on the couple.

    "Oh, uh, hi, Cyclonus," Tailgate said, waving at his roommate. "How's it goin'?"

    "What were you two doing in there?" Cyclonus growled.

    "Nothing. Just talking."

    "Talking counts as doing something."

    "Well, it was just that. Just talking."

    "So that's what they're calling it now. Why were you 'talking' in our hab suite rather than somewhere else?"

    "Would it make a difference?"

    Cyclonus sneered. "Yes. It would mean I would not severely hurt you right now."

    Tailgate stared at the ancient mech, fearing that he was actually about to hurt him. Whether he was or not, he was stopped from doing so by a green and orange mech bumping into him.

    "Oi, keep a move on, mates," Hoist said as he walked down the hall. "Wouldn't want to keep Rodimus waiting now, would we?"

    Cyclonus simply grunted, giving Tailgate and Glyph one last glare before following after Hoist. Tailgate did not dare to move until Glyph pulled at his arm.

    "Come on," she murmured. "Let's go."

*  *  *

    "Slapdash... Waverider... Dipstick... Gears...."

    Rodimus let out an audible sigh of exasperation. "Do you really have to do this?"

    Ultra Magnus shushed him before continuing. "Hound... Chromedome... Grapple... Pipes...."

    While Magnus continued his headcount of everyone on the bridge, Rodimus looked over to Drift, standing by his side. "Have you got my speech prepared?"

    Drift nodded. "I've transmitted it to your processor already."

    "Ah, thank you." Rodimus waited until Magnus was done before stepping up to address the two hundred odd bots standing before him.

    "Everyone, I have fantastic news to share! Progress has been made! After the countless detours we have made over the two past weeks, we have finally reached the first destination on our map: Caminus!

    "For those who don't know, Caminus is one of the first thirteen Cybertronian colony worlds, said to have been discovered by Solus Prime herself. Many Camiens prescribe to the Way of the Flame, a religion that idolizes Solus and her fellow Primes and, yes, the Knights of Cybertron.

    "From what Drift and our resident Camien Windblade have told me, the Mistress of Flame -- Caminus' leader -- is said to bear knowledge of the Knights that no Cybertronian alive has. As such, she is paramount to the future of our quest.

    "So stand tall and keep your chins up! We may have gone through some tough times so far, but I assure you things can only look up from here. So with that out of the way... till all are one!"

    The gathered crew (save for Cyclonus) echoed him. As Rodimus turned back to face Caminus, visible through the viewport, he frowned upon seeing another spacecraft coming into view portside. Its deco was white and blue with yellow accents.

    "Please tell me that's not who I think it is."

    Mainframe leaned over the sensor screen and studied it. He then looked back at Rodimus. "It's the Vis Vitalis."

    "I said 'please.'"

    "The Vis Vitalis?" Ultra Magnus repeated. "That's Thunderclash's ship."

    "Pretty please. With an iron bolt on top."

    "What luck!" Drift said cheerily. "I've heard great things about Thunderclash. Maybe with his help, we can finish this quest in no time!"

    Tuning both mechs out, Rodimus said to Mainframe, "Just take us towards Caminus."

    "Are you sure you don't want to hail them?" Blaster asked. "Let them know of our presence?"

    "No."

    While Mainframe flew the ship forward, Rodimus seated himself int the command chair and made an irritated noise. In the matter of seconds, this day had become the best and worst of his life.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Prologue

PROLOGUE

--Outpost One--

    This mission could certainly have gone better.

    Blaster fire peppered the hallway, plasma bolts ricocheting off the walls. Ricochet winced as one narrowly missed his head and hit the control panel behind him, permanently sealing the door shut.

    "No way out," he said to his partner, who was crouched down across from him, returning fire. "We're trapped here."

    "Just as well," Artfire muttered. "There's no turning back at this point."

    Ricochet grimaced, knowing what he meant. This mission was a dangerous one, a mission no one else could perform. If they failed, then there would be no hope for anyone else who followed in their shoes.

    Primus forbid on that last part.

    Just as Ricochet was about to return fire again, something unexpected happened: the gunfire stopped. Exchanging a look with Artfire, he risked a peek around his cover.

    Their enemies were retreating. Not out of fear however; they were moving much to orderly for that to be the case. No, this was planned. This was part of their defense, as if they had been prepared for this.

    That was when it hit him. In more ways than one.

    Ricochet let out a scream as he was suddenly pulled up into the air. Electrical shocks coursed through his systems, frying each component. Artfire joined him and both Autobots were convulsing in mid-air. Over their screams, a sly voice spoke over the intercom.

    "Hello, you two. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

    Ricochet wanted to deny it, but he knew that voice. It carried a a different, more sinister edge to it now, but it was unmistakable. The current pain he was in prevented him from saying the name.

    "You've probably already figured by now, but I had been expecting you." A low chuckle came over the intercom. "Prowl thinks he's got his eyes on me, yet he doesn't realize I have eyes on him. Six more than he does, in fact!"

    This gave way to a loud cackle, one which sounded like it was teetering on the edge of sanity. Once it was finished, the voice returned to normal -- or as normal as it could get.

    "Now then, you might be wondering what I'm going to do to you. I could kill you, for one. It would be ridiculously easy to do so -- so easy, it wouldn't be funny."

    Suddenly, the electrical pulses stopped and both mechs collapsed to the floor, smoke emitting from their bodies.

    "But on the other hand... imagine what juicy details I could glean from your processors. Imagine all the dirt I could accumulate and use against Prowl. Oh, I can already see the look on his face. Be still my spinnerets...."

    Just to the side, a panel in the wall slid open. Ricochet then felt himself being lifted up and taken towards the opened door, Artfire right beside him.

    "Come in, please. Make yourselves at home." The voice belted out another deranged laugh. "I want you to show me something naughty."

ALL THAT GLITTERS

Part I: With Friends Like These