CHAPTER EIGHT
--Carcer--
The robots gathered in Carcer's radio station watched as the static plagued recording played on the telescreen. Due to Swerve's long untreated condition, the data on Agent 113's bullet had become corrupted over time and most parts of it were difficult to make out.
What could be gathered however, was that, at the time of making the message, the double agent's position had been compromised and he was at risk of being discovered by his teammates. He also mentioned a schism brewing within the Decepticon Empire, but any further details he gave were replaced with static. At the end of the message (or whatever could be made of it), Agent 113 warned High Command about Brainstorm and his illicit dealings, before being cut off. Then the screen went black.
All was quiet for a moment as those present took in all that they heard. Minimus Ambus then turned to Cogwheel, who hovered in the back of the room with Ratchet and Velocity.
"How long have you known that there was an Autobot infiltrator in the Decepticon Justice Division?"
"As long as I can remember," Cogwheel replied. "I believe it was roughly midway into the war I was contacted by High Command. They told us medics to keep a lookout for Agent 113's 'bullet messages,' which he would shoot directly in the right eye of an Autobot badge."
Ratchet frowned, tilting his head. "I don't recall getting that memo."
Cogwheel shrugged. "It may have only been a select few. I never met any other medics who shared my obsession with badges."
Standing behind Karmen, Rodimus inclined his head to the Carcerian comm officer. "Any chance you can recover whatever data was corrupted."
The winged black and red femme shook her head. "I'm not that kind of bot, pal. Although...."
"Although what?" Sentinel Major asked, hovering over both bots. "What is it?"
"Well, not to brag or anything, but I'm kinda good at picking up frequencies that the average audio sensor can't." Karmen tapped the side of her helmet as she pointed at the blank screen. "I picked up something while that was playing. I'm pretty sure it was coordinates."
"Coordinates to where?" Minimus asked.
Karmen looked at each bot standing behind her before saying, "Show of hands: who here believes in the Necrobot?"
* * *
"Admit it! You were worried about me."
Skids glanced at Swerve as the two mechs walked back to the rejoin the others in the Great Hall. "I was concerned about you dying, sure. I mean, I'm sure everyone was."
"You were worried," Swerve said snidely, jabbing the taller mech with his elbow. "You didn't want to break up the act so soon."
"Break up the...? What act?"
"Swerve and Skids!" the minibot loudly proclaimed, throwing an arm around Skids while gesturing dramatically with his other hand. "The Dynamic Duo! The Palpable Pals! The Bodacious--"
"You can stop right there," Skids interjected as he gently removed Swerve's arm from him. "Look, don't take this the wrong way -- you're a great bot and all -- but I don't think any kind of 'double act' made up of us would work. You're all jokes and laughs. I'm all... neither of those."
"Exactly! Some of the best pairs are those who are nothing alike! I mean, look at Rosanna and Squawktalk. Not only did they keep making music together even when they were on opposing factions, but they stayed Conjunx Endurae!"
"Didn't they break up a few months ago?" Skids asked. "Pretty sure I heard something like that while we were on Cybertron."
Swerve's smile faded slightly. "Yeah, well... they're still making music together."
"I personally wouldn't consider back-to-back break-up songs a good example of collaborations working...."
Swerve opened his mouth to rebut that statement but lost the chance to when they reached the Great Hall. Simultaneous to their arrival, they say Nightbeat, Nautica, and Getaway leaving in the opposite direction."
"Hey," Skids called over to them. "Where are you guys headed?"
"Absolutely no idea," Getaway said, stopping with Nautica to meet the duo. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Nightbeat, who kept on walking. "He's going on another one of his detective sprees. We're just tagging along 'cause we're bored."
"Are we even allowed to roam freely?" Skids asked. "So far our stay here has been anything but hospitable."
Getaway shrugged. "Eh, who cares? We've gone through worst places, haven't we? And these Carcerians don't seem that hostile."
"Nor do they seem very welcoming," Skids muttered. "But... what the heck. I'll come along. How 'bout you, Swerve?"
"Uh, I'll pass," the minibot replied, uncharacteristically quiet. "You guys go have fun. I'll... go see what Tailgate's up to."
Skids frowned as he watched the red and white bot head into the crowded hall, wondering what had suddenly gotten him so down. When he turned back to Getaway and Nautica, he found the two staring at him.
"Hey," Nautica said. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine." He gestured to Nightbeat, who was already retreating out of view. "Let's catch up to him before we lose him."
* * *
Skyfall tried very hard to ignore the fact that he was shaking. Perhaps through denial he could actually manage to stop his trembling and proceed with the mission with some professionalism.
Or he could just not do this. But that did not seem to be an option -- and it was too late go back out now.
As he stepped over the Carcerians he had just deactivated, Skyfall stared straight ahead at the relic hovering over its secured, laser-protected pedestal. Four triangular shapes jutted out from either side of the metal sphere, which glowed with sheer untapped power.
The Enigma of Combination. Nexus Prime's masterpiece.
While Skyfall had never given much credence into the first Thirteen or their status as omnipotent demigods or what have you, he could not deny the power he felt radiating from the Enigma. It called to him, drew him in. Suddenly, he had stopped shaking.
He took swift strides towards the artifact, stopping only to retrieve the needed security card from one of the guards he had offlined. Coming up to the pedestal, he slid the card into the security panel. When it prompted him for an optical scan, he lifted up the lifeless guard and manually lit up their optics before bringing their face up to the optic scanner. Once it had performed the scan, the lasers faded away, leaving the Enigma vulnerable to retrieval.
Smiling with satisfaction, Skyfall moved in to take his prize.
* * *
"I assure you, my patient is 100% docile! There is no need to--"
"Don't tell me how to do my job, speakermouth," the bulky femme snapped at Froid as she and two others put restraints on Sunder. The Carcerians had come in mere minutes after Nightbeat and the others had left, completely unannounced. They had demanded to see Sunder right away and wasted no time in arresting him, ignoring Froid's protests.
For his part, Sunder himself up up no fight and did not seem concerned at all. This did nothing to alleviate Froid and his protests continued to fall on deaf audio sensors.
How had the Carcerians even known about Sunder? Save for a select few, no one had left the hall since they had arrived. So unless Rodimus or any of the others had informed their hosts of Sunder (doubtful given their focus on the ailing Swerve), then the Carcerians should not have known about the infamous mnemosurgeon.
Unless they had been led here....
Froid swung to look at Rung, who was watching the scuffle impassively. "You," he hissed. "You called them here."
Rung met his gaze evenly. "Why do you suspect that?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Rung. You've already made your opinion on Sunder and my relationship with him quite known. You summoned the Carcerians here and pinned them on Sunder."
Rung frowned. "Froid, I really have no idea what you're--"
"You didn't say anything when Skyfall was taken away. You could've have easily spoken up about it then. But no. You wanted to have your moment. You wanted to prove yourself to be the better mech." Froid reached up to his neck and snapped off the Primal Beads tied around it. "Well, guess what? You're not. You never will be; not as long as that stain still marks your record."
With that, he turned on his heel and marched towards Sunder. The Carcerians arresting the mnemosurgeon moved to stop him but the psychologist was quick in his action. With medical precision, he threw the beads at Sunder's face....
And they landed right in the criminal's empty eye sockets.
Blue lights shone brightly as if born anew. A disproportionately wide grin formed from Sunder's mouth, dental plates gleaming white.
"Oh," he said, his voice grating like razor-sharp grinders. "Now we're going to have fun."
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