CHAPTER NINE
--The Lost Light--
Powerflash hummed to himself as he studied the broken pod from which the Megatron copy had broken out of. Dealer wasn't sure what the yellow and red mech was expecting to find by doing so, but he found it wise to simply keep his mouth shut and let the Autobot do his thing.
As he continued to examined the capsule's shattered canopy, Powerflash said to Dealer, "You said this ship belonged to a Decepticon scientist. What was their name?"
"Vivisector," Dealer replied. "Why?"
Powerflash spun on his feet in surprise. "Vivisector? The Butcher of Pyrox?"
"Uh, I guess?" Dealer shook his head. "I don't know much about him. He was never someone I 'hung out' with or anything."
"Consider yourself lucky then. Vivisector is one of the Decepticons' worst. He gives guys like Overlord and the D.J.D. a run for their money."
"Really?" Dealer asked, unconvinced. "He always just struck me as a Knock Out type. I've seen him with a buffer as often as I've seen him with a scalpel."
"Then you've never seen the extent of his vanity. Tell me, what did he look like when you left?"
"Um, mostly black with some gray. Green faceplate. Wings, but he turns into a car; might've been a 65483 body-type."
"Mm. See, when I ran into him during the Liberation of Athenia, he was wearing a 134916-67 type -- tank, silver and purple, and lots of guns."
Dealer blinked in surprise. "Are you sure it wasn't someone with the same name?"
"He killed a member of his own platoon when they mocked his color scheme."
"Yeah, that sounds like him," Dealer muttered. "So are you saying he changes body types often?"
"Yes, but think about it: where does he get the bodies? One couldn't walk into a Relinquishment Clinic for a body swap during the war."
Dealer frowned as he contemplated this. A thought crossed his mind but daredn't speak it, lest it be wrong and make the Autobot even more weary of him.
"Not to mention the fact that he's a scientist," Powerflash went on. "And with a name like Vivisector? I don't know about you but that strikes me as a very deliberate choice."
Sighing, Dealer closed his eyes as he pinched his nose. "I get it. It sickens me to my laser core, but I get it. But what does this have to do with anything?"
"I'm not sure yet, but if a 'Con like him is involved with whatever is in these capsules, it can't be anything good."
"So what do we do then? We're not learning anything but just looking at these pods."
"I know," Powerflash said. "Which means we have to open them."
"No." Dealer was shaking his head. "That's insane. We don't know what's in them. It could be another Megatron or Scorponook or Thunderwing."
"Or it could be our only way of figuring out what these 'Cons are up to." Powerflash reached over and put a hand on Dealer's shoulder. "Look, I understand your unease about this, but trust me, okay? Worst comes to worst, we can either shoot it down if it attacks us or I can radio Red Alert about it. Deal?"
The double agent sighed in exasperation. He knew there'd be no use in arguing or else it would make Powerflash think he was hiding something.
"Fine," he gritted out. "Let's just get this over with."
Drawing his gun, Powerflash reached around the capsule and put in the command to open it, using a code Dealer had provided him. Bracing himself, Dealer converted to his tank mode and aimed his barrel at whatever was waiting within.
The pod's lid flipped open and Dealer found himself staring at the motionless body of Shockwave... half the size it used to be. In fact, it had to have been about Minibot scale.
"Well," Dealer said as he returned to robot mode. "At least I was on the right line of thinking."
* * *
The diminutive bot that had once been the Megatron clone's head huddled behind the counter of the Lost Light's deserted bar. He could still hear the Autobots outside searching for him, the sounds of their footsteps growing closer to his location.
Blowing out air to cool his systems, the robot buried his head in his hands. He had no idea where he was or why, but he needed to escape as soon as possible. That was definitely not part of the plan. This was far beyond anything he had been prepared for.
The plan has changed. Improvisations are required.
The robot looked up upon hearing the voice in his head. "Shockwave?"
My time with you is short, so I'll make this brief: I want you to usurp command of this vessel.
"But how? I left my body in the hangar."
I can control it remotely. It should be reaching your position right about....
Without warning, a huge gray tank came rearing into the bar, prompting the robot to emerge from behind the counter. On its own, the vehicle transformed into a headless body that resembled the late leader of the Decepticons.
Rise, Megatron. Your destiny awaits.
The robot silently regarded the body for a moment before jumping up and folding up into his head mode, inserting himself into the exposed neck socket. After taking a few seconds to get used to the body, he turned to the open doorway and strode on out into the hallway, where he came face to face with five Autobots.
Without a second's hesitation, he readied his fusion cannon and took aim....
--Outpost Two--
It took every ounce of Oil Slick's will to make his way back to his lab. His central motor struts had been all but blown out, forcing him to rely on his backup systems. He had also lost his one good optic, and seeing solely through his monocle was no easy task. All this, coupled with the fact he only had one arm left, it was a miracle he was even still functioning.
Arriving at his lab, he found that the attacks had torn it asunder. Tables were knocked over and equipment was scattered about. Given it had already been rather untidy to begin with, he didn't particularly mind. What did concern him, however, was the ruined state of the capsule he had been keeping in his lab -- the one Vivisector had been about to put on his ship before Doubledealer turned on them.
It was open. The glass canopy had been shattered, as if broken from within. Whoever the capsule had held had awakened on his own and was now roaming free about the base. Or rather, as suggested by his proximity sensors, right behind him.
Oil Slick started to turn around only to feel a gun press against his head.
"Don't move a single piston, Decepticon," came the growled order. "Or I'll blow your processor to pieces."
"That's... rather unexpected coming from you," Oil Slick muttered. "Especially considering your template...."
"Wouldn't be the first time I shattered somebody's expectations today. Listen, here's how it's going to go: I'm going to leave this station with the Wreckers and Magnificus in tow. You're going to be left here alone, so that when your Decepticon friends come to investigate, you can tell them everything that happened."
"You're not supposed to be saying that," Oil Slick murmured. "You weren't programmed to--"
"No, I wasn't. Ever heard of free will? Look it up."
Oil Slick scowled. "We will find you, you know. Do not underestimate the Secret Order and how far it reaches. We will find you."
"I know you will. In fact, I'm counting on it."
With that, the gun was removed from Oil Slick's head and the Decepticon dared to look over his shoulder. Whoever had been behind him was now gone.
Exhaling softly, he raised a hand to his helmet comm. "This is Oil Slick calling from Outpost Two, ID #1082008, requesting for retrieval...."
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