CHAPTER SIX
"Care for some tea?" Cogman asked, offering a cup to Rodimus.
"Er, no, thanks," he replied. Despite his earlier claim, he couldn't help but feel that all the beer his avatar had consumed had left him feeling... off. The look that Ratchet was giving him only confirmed his suspicion.
"They're not humans, Cogman!" Sir Edmund Burton snapped at his robot butler. "They're just avatars, you twit."
"My apologies, sir," Cogman replied, setting the cup down. "Would you care for some tea?"
"I already have some! Now bugger off!"
Dutifully, the butler retreated from the room. Burton shook his head ruefully as he turned back to his audience of Autobots.
"Mental, that one. More a nuisance than anything."
"How did he come to be your, er, assistant?" Arcee asked, staring after where Cogman had gone.
"He's been in my family's service for seven hundred years," Burton grunted. "He was passed down onto me by my father after he threw himself out the window."
"And how long ago was that?" asked Ultra Magnus, pacing in front of a cabinet filled with photographs and paintings.
"Summer of '39," Burton said. He reached over for his pipe and lit it. "I was only a year old."
"So... your mother raised you?" asked Bumblebee. "That's what you call caretakers, right? Fathers and mothers? So you had two."
Burton laughed harshly. "My mother was never there for me. She was just some bimbo my father knocked up one vodka-fueled night. She left me on his doorstep and never came back."
"Strange." Bumblebee rubbed his chin. "I had come to assume human marital unions were closer than that."
"But how did Cogman end up here on Earth?" Arcee asked. "I mean... he had to have come from Cybertron, right? Or one of the colony worlds."
"Bloody hell if I know," Burton grumbled. "I couldn't care less about Cyber-whatsit or whatever. I just find these robots and give them a home -- an actual home, where they can be free and not trapped in some zoo."
"May we speak with Cogman then?" Magnus asked. "Maybe he can tell us his story."
"Fine." Burton craned his head to the staircase behind him. "Cogman!"
The robot servant was back at his side in an instant. Burton gestured to the Autobots.
"Regale our guests with a story," the Earl ordered.
"Tell us how you got here," Rodimus said. "You come from Cybertron, right?"
Cogman regarded him with wide blue optical sensors. "Cybertron?" he said, as if it were a name he had never before.
"Yeah. You know, our homeworld."
"Home...world?" Cogman shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Earth is my home. Has been for over seven hundred years."
"Okay, yeah. But... you weren't built here, were you? You had to have come from somewhere."
Cogman was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but my earliest memory is of coming into the service of Sir Abraham Burton in March of 1312. I remember nothing before then."
"What about the other Cybertronians on these premises?" Magnus inquired. "That tank outside; he's an Autobot, isn't he?"
Burton chuckled. "An Autobot with a screw loose. He still thinks it's the Great War. Always going on about some Primal Vanguard and doing us organics in."
"Primal Vanguard?" Tailgate looked up at this, eyes wide behind his blue translucent shades. "Wait... his name doesn't happen to be Undertread, is it?"
"I hope not, because that's an awful name; we just call him Bulldog because that's what's written on him."
"You knew an Undertread?" Ratchet asked, looking over at Tailgate.
"Yeah, he was a big name when I was forged," Tailgate said, looking at his feet. "My caretaker spoke very fondly of him. He was... he was the Primal Vanguard's bomb disposal expert."
"I see. Do you know what happened to him?"
"He was still in service when I... when the Ark took off. After I... woke up, Glyph told me he had retired during the Golden Age and hadn't been heard from since."
"Intriguing," Magnus said, resuming his pacing. He stopped in front of the cabinet, looking at the photos. "What about these? What are all these vehicles?"
"People we've rescued," Burton said. "A P-38 we found on the shores of an island off Morcocco. An Albatros plane and Spitfire from the Smithsonian. A watch from Craigslist."
"And this?" Magnus pointed to a painting of several robots and armored humans pointing their swords skyward. "What is this supposed to be of?"
Before either Burton or Cogman could answer, Wheeljack raised a finger. "Uh, I hate to interrupt but... is someone's phone ringing?"
Arcee reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a phone, raising it to her ear. "Yes?"
A moment of silence passed. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet. "Decepticons."
"Here?" Rodimus asked, getting up as well.
"In Scotland." Her faced turned into a grimace. "It's the D.J.D."
"Oh, thank heavens!" Burton exclaimed. "I was worried Albert had found out about my tea time with Margaret."
* * *
"I'm sorry, Jetfire, did I hear you right?"
"This isn't a joke, Crosswise," Jetfire replied, streaking towards the Highlands. "I want you and Downshift to get onto Sky Lynx when he comes to pick you up. Then go get Rodimus and Arcee's team and fly back to Autobot City. Tell Prime that the D.J.D. are here."
"And what about you?"
"I'll be along shortly," Jetfire lied. "Jetfire out."
With that, he ended the call. That was the last of them, he thought. He had already passed the message along to Drift, Evac, and Overhaul, as well as to the bots in England. Stormshot still hadn't answered her comm; he could only hope that she had flown as far away as possible from where he was now.
He could already see the Peaceful Tyranny, parked by a lake. He would only have one shot at this; he doubt it would take any of the five out, but it would at least prevent them from escaping.
For all of the Autobots the Decepticon Justice Division had killed, Jetfire lined up his shot and fired.
* * *
Stormshot had heard the explosion before she saw it. Flying low across the mountain range, she passed over the highest peak to see the smoldering wreckage of the Peaceful Tyranny. Several Decepticons were scattered around -- some dead, some in the lake. Most of the D.J.D. had been consumed by the blast, but she could see Tarn -- sans his mask for some reason -- was already getting back to his feet.
This is it, she thought to herself. It's fight or flee at this point.
She didn't take long to make her decision. Kicking on her jets, she shot forward, guns ablaze.
* * *
"Tarn? Are you all right? Talk to me!"
"I'm fine!" Damus snapped, swatting away Nickel's hands. "Go check on the others. Make sure they're--"
He was interrupted by the roar of a jet, followed shortly by a barrage of fire. Damus cried out as the bullets pelted his body, although it did nothing to stop him from rising to his feet. His attacker then flew over his head and transformed, landing a few feet away from him.
Damus' face twisted into a rictus of anger as he laid his eyes on the white and blue Autobot. "You," he growled.
"Me," Stormshot said as she pulled out a pair of guns and unloaded on the Decepticon.
Flinching under the onslaught, Damus lifted his right arm and aimed his fusion cannon at the jet bot. As he charged up the weapon, he failed to hear Nickel cry out, as well as the sound of a large jet flying up behind him and transforming....
Damus cried out in agony as Jetfire's gun sheared off a chunk of his cranium unit, exposing his brain module. He then felt a hand grab his weapon arm and blast it off its joint, just as a foot kicked him to the ground.
His optical fading in and out, he barely sensed Stormshot walk over to him until her gun was placed against his brain module.
"You are being deceived."
Whether it was he who had spoken the words or Stormshot, it no longer mattered as the latter pulled the trigger and Damus--Tarn--Glitch thought no more.
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