CHAPTER NINE
--Caminus--
By the time Skids, along with Rapid Run and Ariel, had gotten to the Citadel, he could already tell something was wrong.
Camiens were rushing to and fro, panicked looks on their faces. One was giving out orders, pointing in different directions. Up ahead, he could see Rodimus and Ultra Magnus speaking with another and drove straight towards them, the other two right behind him.
"What's going on?" Skids asked as he transformed. "Rapid Run made it sound urgent when you called her."
"It is," Rodimus said grimly. "Pharma is here."
Skids' optics went wide. "Pharma? Here? How?"
"No time to explain," Ultra Magnus said. "We've already got bots searching high and low for him. Right now, we've got an even bigger problem."
"Of course we do," Skids muttered. "What is it?"
"The Mistress of Flame is trapped inside her chamber," said the black and gold Camien Rodimus had been speaking with. "No one can get a hold of her or her Torchbearers, and the door to her chamber is heavily secured."
"Windblade is with her too," Rodimus said, "and I can't get her comm frequency either."
"So what do you need me to do?" Skids asked.
"You're going to help Magnus bring the door down. Hopefully between his largeness and your many guns, it'll be enough to get yourselves in."
Skids frowned, particularly at the Camien. "Do you guys seriously not have emergency access codes or anything."
"If anyone does, it would be one of the Torchbearers or a Cityspeaker. I don't know of anyone who does, though."
"Well, there's no time to worry about that," Ultra Magnus said, just before converting into his truck mode. "Let's go, Skids."
"Right. Be right with you." Skids looked over to Rapid Run and Ariel. "You two stay safe, yeah?"
"Don't worry about us," Rapid Run said cheerily. "We'll be fine." Ariel nodded in agreement.
Smiling at them, Skids then turned and transformed, driving after Magnus.
* * *
"What the actual living frag is going on?" Getaway said as he and the others in the Grand Hall turned their headlights on to see in the sudden darkness.
"You kiss your caretaker with that mouth?" the Camien known as Starfield snapped at him. "The power probably just went out. No need to worry."
While he was far from worried, Nightbeat still felt there was something amidst. Something felt off, not right.
While everyone else mused amongst themselves, Nightbeat went on the hunt, even bringing out his magnification device to study everything: the floor, the walls, the engex dystillery, Swerve's bar, Swerve himself. He could tell everyone was staring at him, judging by the embarrassed groans from Nautica.
"He's with you, isn't he?" another Camien asked her.
"I don't even know him, Proxima."
Nightbeat went on with his investigation for some time, eventually making his way to Airwave and his music station. The red and white Camien watched the detective oddly as he thoroughly studied each speaker and piece of equipment. He then wheeled around and stared at Airwave sternly.
"What is all this hooked up to?" the detective asked.
"The main grid," Airwave answered.
"And the lights?"
"Same." His optics narrowed skeptically. "Why? What are you trying to say?"
"The music stopped playing before the lights went out," Nightbeat said. "If they're both connected to the grid, wouldn't they have gone down simultaneously?"
Airwave stared at him blankly, his mouth struggling to form a response.
Nightbeat increased the brightness of his headlights, causing the Camien to flinch. "They would, wouldn't they? So either the song you have been playing just happened to be finishing when the lights went, or there's something else going on here."
Airwave held his gaze for a pressing moment. Then, in a low, even tone, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this. I really didn't want to do this."
"Do what?"
"Look, it's nothing personal, okay? I have no qualms with anyone in this room. In fact, I'm friends with most of them. But... he told me if I didn't do this, he would... he would...."
"You're not making much sense, pal. Mind dropping the cryptic vagueness and just get to the point?"
"Right, of course." Airwave raised his hands to his chestplate and pulled back the panels. "I figure it's about time anyway."
Nightbeat yelled out in surprise. He immediately reached for his gun... only to remember it had been confiscated earlier.
The timer on the bomb read five seconds. With no other option at his disposal -- and absolutely no intention to die -- Nightbeat lunged at the Camien.
* * *
"Froid? Froid!"
Rung pushed his way past moving Camiens as he struggled to keep up with the other psychiatrist, whose long legs were carrying him faster than Rung's ever could. If it hadn't been for the crowd, Rung probably would have used the scooter that made up his backpack to catch up to him.
Luckily, upon turning a corner into an empty hallway, Froid slowed his enough for Rung to get to him. The other psychologist paid him no heed however, instead at each numbered door they passed through the hall.
"What are you doing?" Rung asked him. "What's so important for you to look for when everyone is--"
"I'm looking for my patient," Froid said.
"Your patient? You said he was--"
"Fine, yes. Before everything went down the scrapper." Froid eventually stopped before a door labeled 'Sanitation Station'. He moved to open it until Rung grabbed his arm.
"What are you doing here?" the bespectacled mech asked. "This is a janitorial closet."
"Very perceptive," Froid said dryly. "I suppose those lenses do serve a purpose."
Rung furrowed his eyebrows. "You said your patient was interacting with Camiens."
"I said I had given him allowance to do so. As far as I know, he's locked himself up in this closet for the past thirteen hours." Froid then pressed the access panel near the door, causing it to slide open. Rung gasped at the sight which greeted him.
A large mech in black and red huddled at the very back of the closet, hugging his legs close to his spiky chest. A large radar dish adorned his forehead, while his face was hidden behind his crossed arms. The mech did not so much as lift his head as Froid approached him.
"Sunder? Are you okay? Don't worry, it's me...."
"Froid," Rung murmured. "That's... you know that's...."
"I am fully aware of who he is," Froid replied. "Sunder. The Tetrahex Ripper. The Death Walker. His reputation is far from obscure."
"I know, but...." Rung had difficulty in finding words. "He's your patient?"
"Whose psyche did you think I was examining when I left for Garrus-6? I had a part in Sunder's capture and was intrigued by his... condition that I volunteered to be his psychiatrist when he was taken to Garrus-6. When he and I were the only survivors, we became somewhat... dependent on each other. He needed someone to look after him, and I... well, it never hurts to keep in practice."
Rung frowned in disapproval at his former colleague. "Froid, you of all people should know that close practitioner/patient relationships are considered as malpractice by High Command."
"Oh yes, I am aware of that," Froid said, meeting Rung's gaze. "I suppose you can say we have that little kind of misdeed in common."
Rung glared at him. "What are you...?"
"Please don't tell me I'm the only one who remembers the Fateful Archetype...."
Rung clenched his fists. "That was different...."
"Was it, Rung? Was it? Please, do enlighten me."
The orange mech continued to glower at his ex-cohort before finally looking away, making an exasperated noise. "Forget it. That conversation is neither here nor there. We'll talk about it later."
"We shall see." Turning back to Sunder, Froid said, "Sorry about that. Listen, I need you to--"
"Rung, is that you?"
Both psychologists fell silent and looked at each other, a knowing, dreadful look in their optics. Steeling himself, Rung then turned around to see a winged mech in white, red, and blue standing before him.
"Rung?" Pharma said. "I would like to have a word with you."
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